Dance on the Wind

by Brenda Jernigan

  Brandy drew in a long breath, surprised Molly had been here so long yet she still didn’t have any money. “Surely you earn money here.”

  “Yeah, but somehow it seems to all go to Sam, and we never get to touch the stuff.”

  “I see.” Brandy started to dust the furniture. Sam would always have these girls under his thumb, and they didn’t have any hope of escaping. What an evil man he was. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get into this business?”

  Molly took a swig of laudanum, then chased it down with water. “Let me see, honey. Been so long ago.” She rolled her eyes as she thought and then focused on Brandy. “I was a young thing like you about five years ago.” Molly paused to take another swig of laudanum.

  Brandy tried not to gasp. She’d thought Molly was a good ten to fifteen years older than herself.

  “Let me see, where was—oh, yeah, I came out on a wagon train. I was supposed to marry Frank Green. We were going to have a little house with a picket fence, a family.” She sighed with a faraway look of another time and another place.

  Brandy had stopped her dusting and was now sitting across from Molly. “So what happened?”

  “Well, sweetie, life has a funny way of going wrong.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “I arrived at the fort to meet Frank when he was a soldier stationed there. Anyway, when I arrived, I found out he’d been killed two weeks earlier while out on patrol. I was stranded. I had no place to live, no money. Nothing.” Her eyes were cold and her face hard. “Then I met Sam. He happened to be in the room when I was talking to the colonel. He offered to give me a place to stay until I could find something else. And I guess you know the rest.”

  Neither of them had heard the front door open. “Is this how you pay your debt, Brandy? Or have you finally come to your senses and decided to join Molly and the other doves?” Sam reached down and grasped Brandy’s chin in his hand. “You’d make a good piece.”

  Brandy jerked her face away and stood her ground. “Don’t touch me.” She moved around him and started to dust.

  “Molly, you look like hell,” Sam informed her. “Now get upstairs and fix yourself up before the men start coming in. They pay good money for you to look nice. And give me that bottle before you get drunk.” He jerked the brown bottle from her hand.

  “I’ve got a headache,” Molly complained as she stumbled to her feet.

  Sam slapped her hard enough to knock her back a step. “If you don’t get up those stairs, more than your head is going to hurt.”

  Molly began to cry but she said nothing else as she stumbled up the stairs.

  Sam whirled on Brandy. “And you better get busy, too. You still owe me quite a bit of money.”

  “Go to hell,” Brandy said before she thought it through.

  Sam reached back as if he was going to slap her, and Brandy stepped quickly out of his reach.

  “If you hit me, I’ll kill you,” she promised.

  “You need to be brought down a notch or two, sweetheart,” Sam snarled. “And you think those kids protect you?” He gave her an ugly laugh. “I do admit they are a problem that I hadn’t expected, but there are ways they could disappear.” He spoke in a low, sinister voice.

  Momentary panic sprang up her back. “You leave them alone or I’ll go to the fort for protection.”

  Sam gave her a sick smile. “You are a naive thing. I think I’m going to enjoy showing you how a man should treat a woman. But I have better things to do now.” He came closer and grabbed her chin. “Rest assured, your day is coming very soon.”

  When he was gone, Brandy let out her breath. She would have to warn the children to always stay together and not get off by themselves. Somehow, some way, they had to get away from here before something terrible happened to one of them.

  “Thunder, if you can hear me, please come back for us,” she said as she shut her eyes and tilted her head toward Heaven.

  Was Thunder thinking about her? Or had he forgotten all about them? She ached to be held in his arms. She could only pray that he felt the same way.

  She sent the silent plea: We need you.

  18

  The sun was just coming up over the horizon, giving the sky a purplish hue before it brightened the day. Autumn had arrived, bringing the crisp nip, reminding Thunder that winter wasn’t far behind and summer was a fading memory. The leaves still clung to the branches and provided an array of oranges, yellows, and reds.

  But what held his attention this morning was the purplish horizon. He sat on a hill, watching the sun as it tried to burst from the earth, but what he really saw was a pair of sultry amethyst eyes holding him spellbound. Many unanswered questions lurked in their debts.

  He wondered how Brandy was doing. Had she married the man who had paid her passage? Was she happy? Did she love him? His jaw tightened at the thought. For some strange reason, he didn’t want to think of her in another man’s arms. But a part of Brandy belonged to him.

  What had happened when her fiancé found out she wasn’t a virgin? Had he grown angry? Thunder didn’t want to think of that possibility. He knew the only way he’d find answers was to return and see for himself. But first he had other obligations. His mother was finally well, but the tribe was still unsettled.

  “What has you frowning so much, my son?” His mother sat down beside him with a light blanket draped around her shoulders to ward off the chill.

  “Nothing.” Thunder shrugged, then added, “It is good to see you out more.”

  “And it is good to smell the morning’s breath, but do not change the subject. I am not blind to what I see. I think it is time that you told me what causes the frown I have seen so many times when you didn’t think I was looking. Now that I am much better, I know you no longer worry about my health which leads me to believe that something else is bothering you. Do I assume that your heart is elsewhere, my son?”

  Thunder turned his head and smiled at her. “My heart is always with you.”

  “I know that.” She smiled and reached over and patted him on the leg. “But there is another. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Mother, you have always been wise,” Thunder said with a sigh. “There is something bothering me. I thought when I returned to the village I would be at peace once again, but I have not found that which I look for. And now I’m not so sure what it is I seek.” Thunder thumped his chest with his fist. “I still have this restless animal that paces within me. When I am with the white man I long to be here, and when I am here I think of the white man.”

  “Or is it a white woman?”

  Thunder smiled. “Yes. There was one that still fills my mind even though I try to shove her from my head.”

  “And your heart?”

  “Of that, I am not sure. But I do miss her and the children.”

  “She was married?”

  “No.” Thunder shook his head. “She was taking care of five children from an orphanage.”

  “I see,” Helen said as she pulled her blanket closer. “Does she love you?

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “She was engaged to marry another which was the reason she traveled on the wagon train.”

  His mother was quiet for a few minutes before she asked the next question, “Did she know this man?”

  “No.”

  Helen pulled a piece of grass from the ground and rolled it between her fingers. “Did you see her married before you left?”

  “You are full of questions this morning,” Thunder said with a smile. “When I arrived at Ft. Laramie, Little Big Bear told me you were sick so I left immediately to come to you,” he explained. But for some strange reason, he wanted to make her understand Brandy. “The woman is different. She didn’t look at me as a half-breed as some whites do.”

  “Then she is a wise woman because you are not Cheyenne, my son,” Helen said softly.

  Thunder’s head snapped around to gape at his mother. “Do you want to explain?”

&nbs
p; “No one else knows but myself. You see, I was pregnant with you when I was taken hostage, but it was early and I did not show that I was with child. When I married Crazy Arrow, he always thought you were his child, and I never told him differently.” His mother’s face clouded with uneasiness. “Your father was killed when our wagon train was attacked.”

  “White man” Thunder said the words tentatively as if testing the idea. “I do not know what to say. Who was my father and what was he like?”

  “He looked very much like you do. Tall. Strong. We were only married a few months when he heard of the gold strikes and he wanted to go west, but he didn’t want to leave me. So we packed our few things and boarded a wagon train. When we were attacked, I didn’t expect to live, but I knew I was with child and I would have done anything to protect you,” she said with a smile. “Everyone was killed on the wagon train but me. Why I was the lucky one, I’ll never know. But when Crazy Arrow found me, I didn’t fear him like the rest. We married fairly quickly so it was easy for him to believe that you were his son. I feared if he knew the truth that he or someone else might try and kill you.” She reached out and touched Thunder’s hand. “Crazy Arrow was a good man also and a good father to you.

  “The Cheyenne teach a simple way of life, but we don’t belong as we once did. The Cheyenne believe man’s life is a complete circle, and man, trees, rocks, and clouds are all a part of nature and each other. Since Crazy Arrow has died I have felt this same restlessness that you speak of. I know that Black Kettle has arranged for a meeting with the Governor. He still hopes for peace, and he wants you to go with him for the meeting.”

  Thunder nodded. “He has already asked me.”

  Helen slowly stood. “I have given this much thought. Once our tribe is settled and safe, I think we should leave. I am ready to go to my other home and see my parents before they die. They have no other family besides the two of us, and they have suffered long enough. I knew I could never leave Crazy Arrow, not after everything he had done. And he would never have agreed to go to Boston. But now I have no one here. Will you come with me?”

  “Yes, Mother, I will take you to Boston.” Thunder got to his feet. “But now I must meet with Black Kettle.”

  Together they walked back to camp, where Black Kettle had already mounted his spotted pony. The chief looked very old and tired, yet he still had that regal bearing that demanded respect. His face had many wrinkles and lines, which showed he had worried over his people and their fate. Thunder knew Black Kettle would fight for his people.

  White Antelope rode up with Thunder’s horse. “Come,” he said as he handed over the reins. “It is time for us to go.”

  Thunder did not hug his mother as he wanted to, but mounted instead and together the three men rode off. It was hard for Thunder to believe he wasn’t Cheyenne. Yet he didn’t have time to think about what his mother had confessed because Black Kettle approached him.

  “Have you been to Camp Weld?” Black Kettle asked.

  “No. I have seen many forts. They are all the same.”

  “Governor Evans is nervous,” White Antelope said. “I have been told that there is near-famine in the city due to our many raids.”

  Black Kettle grunted. “We would not have raided had not Chivington shot Chief Lean Bear.”

  “Why did he shoot the chief?” Thunder asked.

  “First they accused us of stealing their cattle,” Black Kettle said. “Did you see cattle in our camp or fat bellies from the beef?”

  Thunder shook his head.

  “Well, Colonel Chivington believed the tale. Chief Lean Bear was peaceful. He always wore the medal the Great Father in Washington gave to him. He was proud of his medal. He thought that it meant something.

  “When Chivington rode into camp with his soldiers, Chief Lean Bear tried to wave the colonel away. He wanted Chivington to understand that Lean Bear and his people wanted peace but one of the pony soldiers shot him without ever speaking the first word.”

  “What do you think we’ll find when we arrive?” White Antelope asked.

  A thoughtful look came upon the chief’s face. “I hope it is peace. I grow weary of war.” Black Kettle sighed. “Major Wynkoop has arranged this meeting. There are not many white men that I trust, but I do trust Wynkoop. He does not speak with a forked tongue. I believe him to be a good man.”

  * * *

  On September twenty-eight at Fort Weld, Governor Evans spoke to Colonel Chivington, commander of the District of Colorado, before the meeting with Chief Black Kettle was to take place. Because of the threat to Denver, the governor had called for help, and the war department had responded by authorizing one hundred men to train with the military so that Denver would be protected.

  “It appears that we will have peace. Therefore, I see no need for the ‘Hundred Dazers,’ ” Governor Evans said before he put a cigar back in his mouth.

  “My men have trained hard. They are volunteers who have trained to fight the Indians, and that is what they want to do. They are fine men. Well trained. After all, the war department authorized the special regiment,” Colonel Chivington protested.

  “If we reach a peace agreement today, then we will have no need, Colonel. It’s best if you don’t attend the meeting. The chiefs seem to trust Wynkoop. Now, if you will excuse me,” Governor Evans said, dismissing the man as he walked away from the red-faced Chivington.

  * * *

  Black Kettle was impressed when they rode into the fort. He’d asked for the meeting to be held outside around a campfire so everyone could see the talks take place. Governor Evans and Major Wynkoop stood by the fire, waiting for the chief. Governor Evans extended his hand, and the chief shook it before he took his place on one side of the fire with Thunder to his right and White Antelope to his left. The governor and Wynkoop sat across from them with Chivington standing in the background.

  “I’m glad you have come,” Governor Evans addressed the chief.

  Black Kettle’s gaze settled on the governor. “Major Wynkoop received my letter offering to end the hostilities on both sides. He is in agreement with me.” Black Kettle looked at Wynkoop for acknowledgement, then back to the governor. “What do you have to say?”

  “How do we know that this is not just talk?” Governor Evans asked.

  Major Wynkoop spoke before the chief could say more. “Black Kettle is an honorable man. When I visited him earlier to discuss peace, he released four prisoners to me as a sign of good faith. He has also come to the fort today as I requested. So I guess you could say that Chief Black Kettle has tried to do everything we have asked him to do.”

  The governor nodded, then looked at the chief. “Will the others follow you?” Evans asked.

  “The Cheyenne and Arapaho will follow. However, there are some younger warriors who I do not have the ability to control.”

  The governor bowed his head and thought for a moment. “I will make a suggestion. You have just conceded your inability to control some of the younger warriors?”

  The chief nodded with a frown.

  “Then bring your tribes to settle at Fort Lyon, where you will be protected by Major Wynkoop. It’s not far from here. You can move your village about forty miles northeast to a place called Sand Creek. There you will be able to hunt and make camp. The army will protect you as long as there is peace. Do you agree?”

  Thunder thought it sounded good. Almost too good. But he, too, liked Major Wynkoop, and he knew him to be honest. So when Black Kettle glanced at Thunder and then White Antelope, they both nodded their approval. Thunder remembered his mother’s words but his heart would always be part Cheyenne.

  “We will accept this agreement. And hope to bring peace to this land once more,” Black Kettle said as the meeting was concluded.

  In the background, Colonel Chivington was livid. He swung around and went to his office, where he sent a letter to General Curtis falsifying the nature of Wynkoop’s conciliatory policy and asking for a replacement as soon as possible.


  His men had trained hard. They deserved to see some kind of action.

  ***

  * * *

  Every day Sam was becoming more difficult to deal with, due to his consumption of liquor. Brandy tried to avoid him as much as possible.

  She couldn’t see that they were any closer to getting out of Sam’s grip, and she didn’t know what to do about their situation. She just prayed a letter would come from MacTavish or, perhaps, Thunder would return. But it had been months and he hadn’t come, so she willed herself to stop thinking about him

  The weather was just as gloomy as her mood, she thought as she stared out the back of the wagon. The dark clouds had opened up and a steady rain had fallen all morning. She wished she’d kept that ugly black dress she’d had in Independence. Now that the days were much cooler, it would be comfortable, and it would reflect her despair. She wrapped a small blanket over her head, climbed down from the wagon, and ran for the house.

  She darted around to the front of the house because it had a porch where she could shake off the water. Entering, she brushed the water from her clothing, then glanced up just as Molly paused before going upstairs. Her hand rested on the rail as she turned to look at Brandy.

  Brandy gasped. Molly’s eye was puffy, and ha lip was split and swollen.

  “He’s in one of his moods today,” Molly warned Brandy. “Been drinking since last night So be careful ’round him, honey.”

  Brandy didn’t have to ask who. “What put him in such a mood?” She strolled further into the room.

  “Remember those soldiers that got into a fight last night?”

  Brandy nodded. “We could hear it. from the wagon.”

  “The colonel put the hog house off limits for six weeks, so it ain’t gonna get any better.”

  “At least you’ll have some time off,” Brandy said, trying to find a bright side.

  “I’d rather be working than put up with Sam and his foul temper.” Molly sighed. “Better go up and put something cool on my lip.”