Dance on the Wind

by Brenda Jernigan

  That remark produced a hard stare from Thunder.

  Ward attempted to look innocent. At dinner, he’d tried hard not to smile as he’d watched Thunder at the head of the table as he’d interacted with the children.

  Ward thought about pointing that small fact out to Thunder, but figured he would take off his head.

  Thunder turned and led Ward past the fountain to the wagon. They went over the vehicle with a fine-tooth comb.

  “Looks like Brandy did a good job finding herself a wagon.” Ward chuckled. “And ... a guide.”

  Thunder had just lit a cigarette. “Keep at it, Ward, and you will leave here with a fat lip,” Thunder warned.”However, I will give you that she is quite a capable young woman.”

  “You look like you’re adjusting well here. I’d have figured you’d be ornery as a mule by now. But you look relaxed and, I might add, satisfied with your new family.”

  Ward watched as a stony mask slid across Thunder’s face. “They are not my family. I’m forced ... no, hired help.”

  Ward stared hard before speaking. “I think I know you well enough to say you wouldn’t stay here if you didn’t want to. These walls aren’t high enough to keep you inside.” Ward became silent as he, too, lit a cigarette and propped his arm on the wagon wheel. “So, why do you stay?”

  Thunder blew a thin ring of blue smoke and watched it drift through the air as he pondered Ward’s question. “That is something I’ve been asking myself all day. I know I don’t have to remain here. As you said, I could climb the walls and be long gone with no one the wiser. Yet, I’m still here.” Thunder blew another ring of smoke before adding, “Frankly, Ward, that scares the shit out of me.”

  “And well it should, son. And well it should.”

  9

  The ink-black sky provided little light across the courtyard below as the wind whipped through the compound. A storm was rapidly approaching. Thunder could smell the dampness. The gods must be in as much turmoil as was he.

  Ward’s words echoed again in Thunder’s mind long after his friend had left.

  Why did he stay?

  Driven by an unknown need to escape, Thunder didn’t bother with a saddle as he led his horse, Lightning, to the side gate of the parsonage. The gate barely creaked as he shoved it open and led his mount through the opening. He secured the gate behind him and swung his long legs across his mount and nudged the animal into motion.

  Thunder rode around the back side of town before he urged Lightning into a full gallop, the open prairie, horse, and rider becoming one with the wind. The wind was strong tonight and tore at his clothes, daring him to shed his shirt. He loved the freedom of the open spaces and the feeling that came right before a storm.

  The darkness, the danger, the excitement.

  Soon he’d lost track of time and direction. His senses reeled with the exhilaration of his wild ride.

  It also brought back memories of another such ride, a long time ago, when his Indian name had been chosen. Thunder pulled back on the reins, bringing Lightning to a halt. He looked up at the sky as if his grandfather could hear him.

  “I remember the night we stayed in the canyon, Grandfather,” Thunder whispered into the stormy sky. “The lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the heavens, and the strong winds forced the trees to bend down and kiss the ground. It was the darkest of nights, but I had no fear. I found the storm exhilarating as I rode my pony down the long caverns. Hearing the rumble behind me, I dug my heels into my mount, urging him to go faster as I raced the thunder down the canyon. Just when I reached you, a loud crash occurred as the Great Spirit shook heaven and earth.

  “I remember seeing the amusement in your deep- set eyes as your clay-colored skin wrinkled with laughter. I wondered as I slipped from my pony what had amused you so. Your words still ring clear in my mind.”

  When his grandfather had spoken it had been with great wisdom . . . “Tonight, my grandson, I’ve decided on your warrior name. You are Cheyenne, and I have taught you many things. You must not forget them, for they will give you strength. This night, you have shown no fear of the thunderstorm When the trees would bend . . . you stood tall. From this day forward, you will be known as Rolling Thunder. Be proud of your name for there will come a day when white people fear Rolling Thunder.”

  * * *

  Thunder sighed, wishing it were that night many moons ago when his life was so simple.

  “Grandfather, one day I will make you proud!” he shouted to the hills.

  Then, from a distance, came the slow roll of thunder, rumbling across the sky and crashing with earth-shattering noise. He wondered if the upcoming storm could possibly be as strong as the one brewing in him tonight. His emotions seemed twice as powerful as any force of nature.

  The rain began slowly at first and then the dark clouds let loose their water until Thunder was completely soaked.

  His intentions had been to leave this town and not look back, but here he sat on a knoll that overlooked the graveyard where he’d first laid eyes on the violet eyed beauty probably sleeping like a baby in her soft bed while he prowled the night.

  He’d realized he’d made his decision. But why did he want to stay? Was it the sense of family he had learned from the Cheyenne? Did he feel sorry for this group of vagabonds?

  Was that the real reason?

  He needed answers, and he had none.

  Shaking his head, he swore, “Damn you, Brandy!” He bumped his horse in the sides and urged him back. “Everything is her fault.” Life had become too damned complicated since he’d made the mistake of making Brandy’s acquaintance.

  By the time Thunder returned to the parsonage, the storm had blown over and the first rays of daybreak were streaking through the sky. After rubbing Lightning down, Thunder changed into dry clothes, then stretched out on his bed and hoped to gain a few hours sleep. His last thoughts before he drifted off were of rare violet eyes that glowed with unexplained emotion every time she looked at him. And he couldn’t afford to find out what that emotion might be.

  A cynical inner voice cut through his thoughts. He couldn’t get wrapped up in this family. He was going to accompany the wagon train to Ft. Laramie, and then go home to see his mother. Once the trip was over, he would never see any of them again.

  * * *

  Come morning, a cup of hot coffee helped chase the cobwebs from Thunder’s brain; however, having had little sleep, his mood was far from pleasant. And she was the reason for his sleeplessness.

  After breakfast, he and Billy silently hitched the horses. Thunder didn’t want to talk He didn’t want to feel. He straightened, just in time to see Brandy walking toward them. “It’s about time. Are you ready, Brandy?”

  “Yes.” Brandy detected a hint of irritation in Thunder’s voice and wondered what caused him to be so short this morning. After his comment yesterday, she was determined not to complain. He had been right. The trip had been her idea and somehow she’d survive it. However, she had never intended to drive the wagon. That was supposed to be Billy’s job, but she’d show Thunder she could do it. Or die trying!

  “Where are your gloves and hat?” Thunder snapped. Once again, he sounded impatient. This time, he didn’t even bother to look at her.

  “It’s hot. I won’t need them today.”

  That comment earned her a raised brow and a frown. “We will see.” Thunder’s voice was as cool and clear as ice water. “Climb into the wagon. Billy is already up there.”

  She almost asked if she had done something to make him so disagreeable this morning, but decided her best course of action was to ignore him.

  The seat was high above Brandy’s head, and she wondered how she would get up there. Evidently Billy hadn’t had a problem since he was already seated. She looked back to Thunder, but he had turned away again. Apparently, he wasn’t going to help her. And when she glanced up at Billy he was grinning at her.

  She hitched up her skirt and stepped on a wagon spoke. Grabbing ho
ld of the side of the wagon, she managed to swing her leg over the jockey box just as Billy reached for her hand.

  By the time Brandy had made it to the top, her skirt had slid up to her waist. It might not be a pretty entrance, but she’d made it. Straightening out her clothing, she took the seat next to Billy, who was laughing so hard he had to hold his sides. He muffled his mirth when she snapped her head around and glared at him.

  Thunder had just grabbed his horse’s bridle when he heard Billy’s laughter. Thunder turned in time to be greeted by Brandy’s backside. The woman must learn a more graceful approach to driving, he thought. Or she’d have every man on the wagon train watching her. Then he would have his hands full.

  “If the seat is too high, you might try entering the wagon from the back.”

  Brandy looked up and glared at him. “I didn’t think of that. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

  “I didn’t realize you’d show your drawers to everyone,” Thunder snapped as his piercing eyes swept over her. What was the matter with him? She wasn’t his woman. Why should he care what others thought?

  He was sure being nasty today, Brandy thought. She had a good mind to tell him she didn’t need his help. She’d do it herself. Then she realized that was probably what he wanted ... to be released from his obligation. There was no way she was going to let him off the hook no matter what mood he was in.

  He was taking his horse, so at least she wouldn’t have to ride with him. However, he didn’t mount. Instead, he took Lightning to the back of the wagon and tied the animal.

  Thunder strolled back to the front of the wagon. He didn’t bother to say a word; he simply climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “What are you doing up here?” Brandy asked. At the same time, she scooted toward Billy, making room for Thunder.

  “Since you are both greenhorns, I think it’s better if I drive until we get out of the town. I’d hate to have a spooked team tearing through the streets.”

  Scott ran toward them jumping and shouting excitedly, “I want to go! I want to go!”

  “Not today,” Thunder said, then realized his tone had been short when he saw the child’s smile fade. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow, and then you can ride in the wagon all you want,” he said. “Be a good brave and open the gate for us.”

  “What’s a brave?”

  Thunder smiled for the first time today. “Someone who is big and full of courage.”

  Scott grinned. “I like being a brave.” He didn’t bother to argue any further, much to Brandy’s surprise. She watched him struggle to open the big doors, and then he waved as they passed through.

  As the wagon swayed, bumped, and thumped, Brandy became uncomfortable squeezed between Billy and Thunder. If she scooted much further in Billy’s direction he’d be on the ground, but she didn’t want to touch Thunder. Being close to him did strange things to her that she didn’t understand.

  Every time they hit a bump, her thigh brushed his, and she became very aware of the man next to her. He was staying on her mind far too much for her liking, and lately she’d even begun to dream about being kissed by this handsome stranger. She wondered if she’d lost all of her sanity.

  “We will be there soon,” Thunder snapped.

  Evidently, he thought her squirming meant she was impatient.

  She smiled to herself. If he only knew!

  * * *

  Ten wagons hitched and ready to begin their drills stood in a clearing just outside of town.

  “I didn’t realize there would be other wagons,” Brandy remarked with a perplexed frown.

  “These are the newest drivers. All of you will learn together. There will be another ten to twelve wagons which have already gone through their training period.”

  “Mind if I drive first?” Billy volunteered.

  “Good idea. Here.” Thunder turned over the reins to Billy, then jumped to the ground. “Stay thirty feet from the wagon in front of you,” he said, and then he was gone.

  The little band of wagons drove a couple of miles outside of town. Every driver maintained a straight line, keeping thirty feet between each wagon. If they didn’t, they were reminded quickly by Thunder and Ward.

  Billy handled the team like an expert, and Thunder praised him each time he rode past the wagon. Over and over again, they would circle the wagons, then straighten them out to form a single line.

  The drills went on for at least two hours before the dreaded call was issued. “Switch drivers,” Ward shouted over the din of wagons and animals.

  “I’d rather not do this,” Brandy tried to object. However, Billy ignored her as he handed her the reins and climbed past her. “What do I do?” she asked, feeling the same panic she imagined the animals must feel.

  “Just click your tongue like this.” Billy demonstrated the sounds for her. “And pop the reins.”

  Surprisingly, the animals moved forward, and it pleased Brandy. This might be easier than she’d first thought. She felt in command of the beasts in front of her, something she hadn’t managed to feel with the children.

  They moved along at an easy, plodding gait, and for the next half an hour, they formed orderly lines, then sweeping turns; then they did it all over again. Every few minutes, Thunder pointed out something she had done wrong or was about to do wrong.

  Ward rode past her once and gave her a sympathetic smile. Then he issued the command to start again.

  The hot sun showed no mercy as the day grew hotter, and Brandy’s hands grew damp. She kept wiping them on her skirt, but the leather straps constantly sliding back and forth between her fingers soon caused blisters. Now she understood why Thunder had suggested gloves. However, she’d never admit the fact to him. No matter how much it hurt.

  “Keep that line straight, Brandy! ” Thunder shouted.

  Was it her imagination, or was Thunder only yelling at her? Maybe she needed a new guide—one with a better disposition. The thought appealed to her at the moment. But it was soon forgotten as they kept up the grueling pace for another hour.

  “Turn right and form a circle,” Ward barked again.

  Brandy groaned. The blisters between her fingers and on the palm of her hand had started to ooze.

  “Are you all right?” Billy leaned forward to look at her.

  “Yeah. Just a little tired,” she mumbled. Boy, was that an exaggeration! By now, every muscle ached, and her shoulders burned from the constant pull of the animals. Then there were her hands! Maybe, if she switched to her left hand, which was in much better shape, she wouldn’t be so uncomfortable.

  Acting on the idea, she made the switch, but the straps slipped from her grasp and fell down on the jockey box. She immediately put her foot on top of the reins to catch them. She watched Billy out of the comer of her eye. He was looking out to the side, not paying her any attention. When she looked back to the team, she could see Thunder riding back from the first wagon.

  Without wasting another minute, she reached down and tried to gather the loose straps. If she stretched just a little further, she could get them She leaned over, but lost her balance and tumbled forward. Clutching at the jockey box with both hands, she screamed from her upside-down position.

  Billy jerked around and grabbed Brandy’s skirts. He tried to hold onto the fabric and reach the reins, but they, too, fell to the ground. Given their heads, the horses picked up pace and broke away from the line.

  “Do something, Billy!” Brandy shouted.

  “Be still!” Billy yelled. “If I lose my grip, you’ll be crushed. Hang on, Brandy!”

  “I can’t. I’m slipping!” she yelled at the same time she heard the material of her skirt rip. “Catch me!” Before she could scream again, she was no longer on the wagon, but sitting on a horse in front of Thunder.

  “You’re supposed to control the animals from the seat . . . not below it!” he bit out dryly.

  “I know that! I lost—oh, never mind.” Brandy refused to explain. Couldn’t he see that she’
d almost been trampled?

  “If you’re through with your little show, I suggest you get back on that seat and get your wagon in the circle with the others. We still have work to do,” Thunder reminded her.

  Brandy fumed as she jerked around to face him. “Why didn’t you just let me fall? At least, I’d have been out of your hair, and you could devote your time to the rest of the wagons!”

  Thunder rubbed his chin. “That’s a thought. But you have five children in your charge, so get up there and do your job,” he growled before shoving her over to the wooden seat and nodding for Billy to give her the reins once again. “See if you can hang onto them this time.”

  She glared at him, but wisely took control of the wagon again in her left hand.

  Thunder looked past Brandy to Billy. “How about paying more attention to your sister? We could have lost the whole wagon because of her carelessness.”

  Billy looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

  Brandy was sick of their guide. She must have been crazy to ever want him to start with. How was she going to put up with the insufferable mule for the entire trip? Maybe she should fire him. No, on second thought, they would never get to Ft. Laramie without him.

  Drat! She sucked in her breath and blew it out. This was going to be a very long trip. Slapping the reins, she moved her wagon forward and then into the circle just like an old cowpoke.

  Thunder sat off at a distance and smiled. Maybe it helped to get Brandy angry once in a while so she would forget her helplessness.

  Ward rode to where Thunder sat on his horse. “Don’t you think you’ve been a mite hard on the little lady? You could have hitched the oxen instead of the horses.”

  “Horses are more difficult. It is better that they learn from the hard team first,” Thunder said curtly. “And, no, I’m not being hard. Just trying to knock some sense in that thick head of hers. I got a feeling I have yet to see the real Brandy. I have a gut hunch she has a stubborn streak in her a mile long, and I know she isn’t as helpless as she thinks.