His Dakota Captive

by Jenna Kernan

  She struggled to untangle her long skirts from her legs and then stood. “I can’t go back to California and let them see that I have failed again.”

  “Your mother fought hard to steal you. I don’t believe she would easily give you up.”

  She wiped her fingers beneath her eyes again. “She didn’t. She forbade me from coming.”

  He scowled. “Then why did you disobey?”

  Her lips pressed together and her shoulders went tight with her displeasure. “Because I am not a child to be ordered to my room.”

  Yet, she sounded like a child now. He recognized this anger as the defiance he used himself when challenged.

  “Is that the real reason?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Why should I tell you?”

  He nodded. Why, indeed? “Because I might be the only person walking the earth who would under stand.”

  She considered that, searching his face. What did she see?

  “My parents reunited after my rescue. They began the life that had been interrupted by a mistake. I have three sisters now and two brothers and I am old enough to be the mother of them all.” She swallowed and glanced away. “They are happy now, except for one thing.”

  He waited but she spoke no more.

  “What is this one thing?”

  She glanced about as if fearful she might be overheard. Then she spoke in Lakota.

  “Me. I am their sorrow—the symbol of the years they lost and the mistake they made, the stone in their hearts, the daily reminder of one they could not protect. They wish to make my path smooth, but cannot. Each time the Wasicu cut me with a word or look, it cuts them twice. I will lie to them rather than go back and witness again the pain in their eyes.”

  Sky had always thought of Lucie as brave, but never more than at this moment. He resisted the urge to draw her in. Instead he nodded.

  “You wish to protect those you love. It is the natural way. You are a good daughter to spare them this.”

  Her chin quivered, but she held back her tears.

  He gathered up the blanket and draped it around her shoulders, tugging it tight. He imagined Lucie in braids and could see the woman she might have become, had she stayed with the People.

  “The school, then?”

  “Yes. The girls still need me. Although…”

  “What?”

  “It isn’t what I imagined.”

  He nodded his understanding of this. It was the first honest thing she had said about the place.

  He collected Ceta’s reins and held his stallion still. Lucie needed no leg up to mount. She was agile as a bobcat as she swung up into the saddle, then removed her foot from the stirrup so he could use it to mount behind her.

  They did not speak as they rode back, but he was distracted by the sweet scent of her body and the graceful curve of her long, thin neck. He already knew the softness of her skin and the arousing warmth of her body. She leaned against him as Ceta walked steadily along and he found himself wondering what she would do if he did not take her to the school, but instead rode off with her.

  He cast off the foolish impulse. Even if it were suitable for him to pursue his friend’s former wife, he still could not do so because he knew in his heart that he didn’t deserve such happiness, not when Sacred Cloud lay rotting on his funeral pyre.

  His head knew these things but his heart felt the pull of this woman. What did she think of him?

  “Lucie?” Had he just spoken?

  “Yes?”

  How did one form a question around such an unfamiliar feeling of need? He had spent his entire adult life by himself and had never felt as isolated as he did at this moment. The squeezing in his chest reminded him of the ache he once felt before parting from his family.

  “What do you do about the loneliness?”

  Lucie thought on his question, choosing to consider carefully instead of saying the first thing that popped into her head, as she once might have done. It was an important question and deserved a considered answer. At last she spoke, in English.

  “My way is to find something more important than myself. I found these girls at this school. They are also lonely, missing their family and the Red Road. That road is fading now. They need skills to survive as a defeated people. I hope that one day they will forgive us.”

  “Is that why you came back?”

  “And to give my parents peace with their new family.”

  “It is your family, too.”

  She sighed. “No. It’s not. I lost my family on this prairie. The only father I ever knew, died of sickness and then I was captured. I never even met my real father until after my rescue. Thomas West left my mother for the gold fields with a promise to return, but he never did. My mother only tracked him down after my capture. That’s when she discovered he had come back to find her married to his brother. He thought I was their child and that she’d abandoned him as soon as he’d left her. Apparently his elder brother deceived them both. My mother never told me the truth.”

  Lucie thought about Samuel West, the brother of her real father. She missed him and wondered if her mother ever thought of the man she had married and lived with for fourteen years. Lucie had wondered why she never had any brothers or sisters. Now she had David, Julia, Nelly and Cary and the baby, Theodore. It was obvious that her mother was capable of having children. Had they even shared the same bed?

  She wondered if her father’s life had been more lonely than hers was now.

  She felt the rumble of Sky’s voice as he spoke behind her.

  “You rescue people. I rescue horses.”

  “I heard you were a horse trader.”

  He switched to Lakota once more and she realized it was his first language and the one where he felt most at home.

  “I call to them and tell them their old way is gone. Their land is gobbled up and they will go as the buffalo. So they come to me and I teach them so they will find a new way of living.”

  Lucie smiled. It was exactly what she tried to do with her students.

  “Yes, I understand that. Do they listen?”

  “Some do. Others do not wish this change. They will not take a bit and so I let them go with a prayer to protect them from the Wasicu’s bullets.”

  So he didn’t even consider himself white. How odd. But if that was true, why did he come back?

  “Sky? Why did you leave the People?”

  He did not answer for a long time, so she turned in the saddle to glance back at him. His face showed strain, as if her question caused him great distress.

  “We are almost to the school. Quiet now, or they will hear us.”

  Lucie recognized the avoidance tactic. Clearly he did not want to speak of it. It broke the intimacy and common experience they shared. They had much in common, but she did not really know him at all.

  At last they topped the hill behind the buildings and crossed onto the plain where the dormitory lay, a dark outline on the pale prairie. He took her on horseback along the back of the residence, stopping beneath her open window. All seemed quiet.

  Was it possible that she had not even been missed?

  “I’ll lift you up,” he whispered.

  His strong hands circled her waist, plucking her from the saddle as one pulls up a weed from a garden. Would he be glad to be rid of her?

  His duty was discharged. He had no reason to linger.

  Sky rested her gently on the window ledge. Lucie swung her legs inside and then leaned out over the sill. Her new position brought her nose-to-nose with Sky.

  “Will I see you again?” she asked.

  “I must tell your…Eagle Dancer that you will not come.”

  Lucie felt a stabbing regret pierce her. She knew the way of the People. To break their union, she must say the words to him before a witness. But this she would never do, for it would require that she see him again and she was far too frightened for that. All these years she had pretended that it never happened, but it did and she was ashamed. Ashamed by her w
eakness at agreeing to wed a man she never loved. She knew what others would say if they knew. Better to be a captive than a… She knew what they would call her, knew what this revelation would do to her family. My God, David was an officer at Fort Sully, on the very doorstep of the Sioux Reservation. What would his comrades say if they knew?

  “Must you tell him that you saw me?”

  “He knows you are here, Lucie. You cannot keep from hurting him with this.” He kept his gaze on her a long silent moment, then added, “I’ll be heading out in the morning, in case you change your mind.”

  He laid the reins across the horse’s neck and his stallion turned away. He did not look back, but left her there with her feet on the solid wood of the dormitory planking and her head and shoulders outside under the wide-open sky.

  When Eagle Dancer woke, his nephew had returned after many days’ absence. He had hoped the boy had gone back to the school, as he had asked. But when he realized that three older boys were also missing, he grew concerned.

  Outside his box-house came the once-familiar sound of riders approaching. No Moccasins stirred and rolled toward his uncle, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes. It was only then that Eagle Dancer saw the blood beneath his fingernails. He shook his nephew awake.

  “Up!”

  The boy’s eyes widened. A moment later they heard the men’s voices. He cast off the sleeping robe and sprang to his feet.

  “Clean your hands and stay inside.”

  “Yes, Uncle.”

  The pounding on the door caused No Moccasins to jump. He scrambled for his skinning knife and began to scrape away the dirt and blood.

  Eagle Dancer studied the boy. He looked pale and his hands trembled. Had he been seen off the reservation?

  “Eagle Dancer,” came the call in English. “Open this door.”

  He did, stepping out to face the mounted soldiers and BIA agent.

  Lucie had taught him a little English and he could understand most of what was said, if the speaker did not talk too quickly. But he did not understand the jabbering of the man before him. He wore two stripes on his sleeve and had gray-and-white side-whiskers that made him look like a coyote.

  When Eagle Dancer did not answer, the soldier called back to a man still mounted. Eagle Dancer recognized him at once. Thornton Lewis, the translator. He had to be helped off his horse. He swayed from side to side, rocked by a breeze that stirred only within himself. The red-rimmed watery eyes and the stench marked the man as drunk.

  “Tell him what I said,” said the coyote-man.

  Lewis tugged up his trousers and staggered.

  The officer spoke more quickly now. “Names. Get those names. We’re setting an example. These bastards…” Eagle Dancer could not understand the words that ran together like raindrops. “…treaty and have to stick…want names, goddamn it.”

  Lewis spoke to him now. “He see four warriors on prairie, carrying weapons. You tell us who.”

  Eagle Dancer shook his head.

  The officer snorted, but this time he spoke more slowly. “Ask about the boy.”

  Eagle Dancer felt the fear that filled him only when one of his family faced a threat. Why was it so much easier to meet danger than to watch this happen to one you love?

  “Your nephew ran away from the school one full moon away. School man track. Both no see now, many days.”

  Eagle Dancer scowled. The man was a drunken fool who spoke like a child two winters old.

  “You seen the boy?”

  Eagle Dancer shook his head.

  “Treaty say all children go to school.”

  Eagle Dancer turned to the coyote-man and spoke in English. “This man is drunk.”

  The bluecoat ignored him and spoke to Lewis. “What about the truant officer—Norm Carr? He seen him?”

  The translator asked him about a man who chased runaways.

  Again he shook his head.

  “You believe him?” asked coyote-man.

  The drunk laughed. “He’s an Indian. ’Course I don’t believe him.”

  “Tell him that if the boy shows up, I want to know.”

  Lewis relayed the message. Then he turned and tried to mount his horse. He failed, landing on his ass in the road. He needed a leg up to gain his saddle. The armed contingent turned around and retreated toward the river.

  Eagle Dancer waited until the fall of the hooves was obliterated by the murmuring of his people’s voices. Many had come, following the riders to his door. The elders were already gathering. Eagle Dancer glanced back toward his log house and saw the worried face of No Moccasins.

  What had his nephew done?

  Lucie closed and locked the window, for fear Sky would change his mind and carry her back to Eagle Dancer. She lay in bed with her knife in her hand and when she did sleep her dreams were of her capture.

  Eagle Dancer still waited, had never remarried. Where did Eagle Dancer live? On the reservation, she now knew, but did he have a house and farm? That was the agreement of the treaty. Subsistence rations issued to each head of household if they were willing to farm. She tried to picture Eagle Dancer wielding a hoe, but she could not seem to conjure an image of him without his horse.

  They took that, as well. And now he had lost her forever. She tried to shake away the image of Eagle Dancer humbled and heartbroken, because the thought brought her a physical pain.

  Her mind turned to Sky’s arms around her. How long would it take Sky to return to the reservation? She realized she did not know the distance to their lands. Would she ever see him again?

  Color trickled across the sky, the gray dissolving into a pink glow. Soon the vivid orange bands blazed overhead. Birdsong rose into the air. He would be gone soon and she could forget the entire thing, bury it back inside. Sky would not tell and so she could again pretend she had been forced, when the truth was she had given herself away. Lucie found it hard to breathe past the knot in her throat. She rose and dressed, braiding her hair in one long rope as she had once done and then coiled it properly on her head.

  She crept to the window. Had it really happened? Had Sky carried her off and then returned her? She rolled her shoulder feeling the pain and stiffness caused by being bound.

  The rapid woodpecker-like knocking on her door made her startle. She stood facing the door, knife in hand.

  “Miss West, enough pouting, you must open this door at once.”

  Her shoulders relaxed and she sheathed her weapon as she recalled that the other matron had come to her room last night and knocked. How could she have imagined that Lucie sat bound and gagged just beyond? Instead she must have decided Lucie was being difficult.

  Lucie lifted the latch and opened the door. “Yes, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Fetterer held a lamp and stared at her with a look of puzzlement. “You are already dressed?”

  Lucie could think of no quick answer.

  “Never mind, come along. Something dreadful has happened and Father Batista has sent for us. We are to bring the sister of the runaway to his office.”

  She had heard of the boy, of course, but did not know he had a sister. The children were separated from their family groups on arrival and arranged by age and gender.

  “Which girl is it?”

  “Maud.”

  The child was in Lucie’s care as she was not yet seven. All she knew of the girl was that her mother had died. Her Indian name was Hummingbird, which was what Lucie called her, but in English.

  “I’ll be just a minute.”

  Mrs. Fetterer nodded. “Bring Maud with you.”

  Lucie hurriedly scrubbed her face with the freezing-cold water and retrieved her shawl from the bed. The rest of her scattered belongings she had set right before retiring late last night.

  Once she had her shoes buttoned, she carried her lantern to the younger girls’ bedroom. The interior was still dark, though she saw some of the children already stirring. She headed straight for Hummingbird and crouched beside her bed.

  She laid
a gentle hand on the girl’s small shoulder and called to her in Lakota.

  “Wake, Hummingbird. We need to go see the big father.”

  Hummingbird threw herself into an upright position, looking up at Lucie with wide frightened eyes.

  “Shh, quiet now or you’ll wake the others.”

  “Are you taking me home?”

  “No, darling, the big father wants to speak to you.”

  “But I haven’t done anything wrong. I say my prayers to Baby Jesus and wash my hands and face.”

  “You are a good girl. Come along.” Lucie ushered her out of bed and into black stockings and the gray dress. She finger combed the child’s hair and found that many of the other girls were now awake and staring wide-eyed at Hummingbird.

  “Come.” Lucie stood and offered her hand.

  Hummingbird gripped it like a girl on a cliff and clung with both arms wrapped about Lucie’s.

  Lucie saw Mrs. Fetterer in the doorway and switched to English. “No reason to be frightened.”

  This did nothing to relax Maud’s grip as Lucie steered her out the door.

  “I’ve just discovered the trouble,” said Mrs. Fetterer. “They found Mr. Carr’s body. He’s been butchered by Indians.”

  Lucie stumbled and then righted herself. “What?”

  Where was the horror she would expect from a woman relating such nightmarish news? Mrs. Fetterer seemed wholly unaffected in her tone and bearing. “They mutilated his body. Sliced off his hands and used him as a pincushion. It seems he forgot that young boys have parents—savage parents.”

  Lucie’s heart began pounding, but she didn’t know why. She had not done anything wrong, but somehow she felt as if she had.

  “When?”

  “Several days ago, from what I’ve gleaned. And they still haven’t found the boy. What’s his name again? Wait, I’ll think of it. Phillip, no, Charles Phillip. He’s no more than twelve. But it runs in the blood, the savagery.”

  Lucie and Mrs. Fetterer met Father Batista, who waited just outside the girls’ dormitory. Here the lantern was no longer needed. The world was already bright and awake, while Lucie’s head spun from fatigue and worry.