Walks Alone

by Sandi Rog

  “Me’êševôtse!” the woman cried out again.

  Anna understood the word to mean, “My baby.” She looked out at the lake, and a ways from shore she saw bubbles forming on the surface.

  “Get the doctor!” Anna shouted to Runs With Wind as she ran into the water, fixing her gaze on the bubbles. She sucked in air and dove just before she reached them. A cliff dropped beneath the surface. The child must have fallen off. She scanned the blue haze as she swam toward the bottom.

  Nothing. Nothing but weeds. She pushed them away and kicked through them, searching for the bubbles. A bubble floated up from behind a thick weed. She swam to it, and tangled in a plant was a child, no more than two years old. Her lungs hurt, and she fought the desire to swim up for air, but she had to get the baby first. If she went up, she might not find him again. Letting out a little air to ease the tension in her lungs, she swam down, forcing herself toward him. She clawed the water, reaching for the child’s arm. Her fingers clamped around him, she tore the branches from his body, and she kicked upward.

  Breaking the surface, she gasped for air. She held the baby’s head above water as she turned on her back toward shore. When she touched ground, she got to her feet as quickly as possible. Taking the baby under her arm, she held him upside down against her hip, smacking her hand firmly on his back as she made her way toward land. Once on shore, she turned the child over her knee and hit him again on his back.

  He choked. Water spewed from his mouth, and he cried.

  With trembling hands, she held him up as he wailed before her. “You’re going to be all right,” she cried, shivers of relief pouring over her. The baby gasped for air, and she hugged him, brushing her fingers through his wet, matted hair. His mother rushed to her side and snatched the baby from her arms.

  “Nea’eše! Thank you!” the woman said in Cheyenne, repeating the words over and over again. “You saved him.” The child clung to his mother, crying on her shoulder. Tears filled the woman’s eyes, and Anna reached out to touch the shivering boy.

  “He’s safe now,” she said in broken Cheyenne.

  Voices and people swarmed around them. She hadn’t noticed that anyone else was near. The medicine man led the woman and her child away from the group, and Runs With Wind hugged Anna. It was then that she became aware of the throbbing in her shoulder. She rubbed her hand over the ache.

  After expressions of appreciation, Anna and Runs With Wind moved from the small crowd. She stopped when she saw White Eagle standing away from the people. Runs With Wind ran up to him, shouting. The words came too fast for Anna to understand. She caught a few, something like “save” and “child, save child’s life.”

  White Eagle nudged his chin toward the lake. “You saved the child?”

  Anna shivered, water still dripping from her hair and dress. “With the Lord’s help, yes. I suppose I did,” she said, wondering how she knew what to do. Memories of her childhood waded across her mind. Most Dutch people learned to swim at an early age. The threat of floods from an overflowing dike was a constant concern, so they taught their children how to swim, how to save someone who might be drowning. All those lessons from her father had engraved themselves into her mind. She didn’t even have to think when she went after that baby.

  White Eagle stepped toward her and brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “You all right?”

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he said, staring at her, his jaw ticking. He then turned and walked away. He seemed tense, for he squeezed his hands into fists at his sides and kept shaking them out.

  Runs With Wind cast her a questioning look. Anna shrugged, and a small pain shot through her shoulder.

  ~*~

  It had been almost four months since the day Anna left New York. Her shoulder was still bruised and puffy, but no longer painful to move. The wound had healed nicely, although she could see that the marks would likely scar, but she wasn’t worried about it since her shoulder would always be covered, unless she wore her Cheyenne clothing. But she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

  Her lovely traveling dress had been ruined, stained with her blood, so Beth had offered the use of her own dress since she would have no need for it. Anna sat at the opening of White Eagle’s lodge and repaired the tears. She yanked the needle too hard, breaking what little thread she had left.

  In the distance near the yellow and red aspen trees, the men spent a great deal of time in the sweat lodge. It was an interesting structure: a short, rounded-off tipi, made of buffalo skin, resembling a very large beetle without legs. She had helped the other women heat up rocks after they’d carried them up to the lodge. Apparently the men would go in, smoke a long pipe together and sweat out all the evil from their bodies. It was some sort of purification ritual. She watched closely, wondering if White Eagle would ever join them. She’d never seen him enter. Where could he be?

  When she finally finished with the repairs on Beth’s dress, she went into the lodge to make her things ready for her trip, whenever they would leave. It couldn’t be much longer. She hung Beth’s dress from one of the stakes and noticed her Bible on White Eagle’s bed. How’d it get there? It must have fallen out when she set her carpetbag there. She placed it back in her carpetbag and knelt by her bed to fold her Indian dresses so they would be easy to pack. She planned to speak to White Eagle today about their eventual departure.

  It was time to leave, whether he thought so or not. She’d healed enough, and she’d been patient. What he was waiting for, she didn’t know. When she finished sorting through the rest of her things, she decided to help the women with their chores. She ducked through the opening of the lodge and tied back the flap. As she turned, she noticed White Eagle with a frown, striding toward her.

  She opened her mouth to ask, yet again, when they would leave.

  “I’m going hunting,” he said. He strode past her and entered the lodge to pack.

  Anna followed him inside. “When will you take me to Denver?”

  “We’ll talk about it when I get back,” he said, taking up his rifle, bow and quiver. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He headed for the door flap.

  She wrung her hands, sensing White Eagle’s moodiness, but not wanting to wait yet another day to hear his answer. “But I’ve waited so long already.”

  He turned on her, eyes blazing. “I’m tired of hearing about that city!”

  His anger sent a painful tremor from her head to her toes.

  “We’ll go when I’m ready,” he said between clenched teeth. With that, he marched away.

  Stunned into silence, Anna watched him go.

  ~*~

  The following day, Anna wore her civilized clothes, not necessarily as a statement of defiance to White Eagle, but because they reminded her of who she really was, where she really belonged, and right now, her own clothes were her only form of comfort.

  While the men were hunting, Anna collected wood with Beth. Laughs Like A River wasn’t around, and the other women ignored them, but one in particular kept eyeing them suspiciously. Anna had seen this woman before, though she’d never paid her any mind. One thing was certain—the woman rarely smiled and never had anything to say to her and Beth.

  Anna dragged a thin log over to her rope to bind the wood together and dropped it next to the others. She straightened to rub her aching back, keeping an eye on the woman, who was obviously keeping an eye on them.

  Beth knelt next to Anna and began binding her wood together. Anna watched, irritated that Beth was already finished and could carry so much more than she could.

  From the corner of her eye, Anna saw the suspicious woman straighten and stride over to them. As the woman neared, she raised a root pick high in the air over Beth.

  “Bet!” Anna leapt forward and grabbed the woman’s wrist. Beth scurried out from under them, and the force from the woman’s blow made Anna’s arms buckle. She let the woman bring it down, but guided it into the ground. The woman reached to yank the pick back up, but Anna stomped
on it and the woman’s hand. The woman gasped, but to Anna’s surprise she didn’t cry out.

  “Nay!” Anna said, her heart in her throat. Then remembering the word in Cheyenne, she repeated, “Hova’âhane!”

  The other women came to stand around them. Anna eased her foot off the root picker, watching the woman’s hands to see if she’d go for it again. “Don’t hurt my friend,” Anna shouted, her limbs trembling.

  “She white. No belong here,” the woman said, in broken English. “You no belong here.” The woman pointed at Anna.

  “And your braves kidnapped us!” Anna’s anger flared, especially when realizing she could be in Denver right now rather than defending their lives. “Do you think we chose to be here?” Anna stepped toward the woman. The trees seemed to shudder from her rage. “Don’t ever hurt my friend! She’s your war chief’s wife, and if you ever lay a hand on her, he’ll kill you!” She shouted everything in English, too angry and upset to think of the right words, but the woman who’d threatened Beth seemed to understand their meaning. The thought that poor Beth would be stuck here made Anna realize the urgency of the matter that she make it clear that they not hurt her best friend. Her eyes narrowed in on each woman standing around them, making her point clear.

  The woman said something in Cheyenne that Anna didn’t understand, but one thing was certain by the look in her eye, it wasn’t meant to make peace. Anna took another step toward her, and the woman straightened.

  “If you want to hurt one of us, then hurt me,” Anna said, trembling. “Let what you do to me be a sign to chief Yellow Leaf and our husbands that you don’t approve of us. But after that, you promise to leave us alone.”

  The woman’s nails slashed across Anna’s cheek. Shocked from the blow, Anna stood her ground, straining to keep her hand from grasping her burning cheek. She wouldn’t give this woman the pleasure of knowing she was hurt, just like she’d learned long ago not to give her uncle that pleasure. The woman shouted something she didn’t understand and slapped Anna. She then seized Anna’s throat.

  The other women watched as Anna tried to pry open the woman’s fingers. She spotted some of them holding Beth back. The trees swayed. She clutched the woman’s wrists, but she wouldn’t let go. She clawed her way down the woman’s arm, but she still kept her grip fastened around Anna’s neck.

  Desperate, she kicked the woman, grateful she’d worn her boots. The woman released her, and Anna side-kicked her in the gut. The woman buckled over. Anna gasped in air and rubbed her throbbing neck. The woman also struggled for breath. They both stared at each other. Anna didn’t dare look away.

  The woman pointed a quivering finger at Anna’s cheek. “This sign.” She then turned, plodded with a heavy slouch, took up her pick, and walked away.

  Relief flooded Anna’s eyes, but she covered them with a quivering hand. She wouldn’t give any of them the pleasure of seeing her tears. Suddenly, Beth was beside her. Beth grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. Anna stumbled into her.

  She leaned on her friend as Beth led her back to their woodpiles. “Are you all right?” Beth finally asked, once the rest of the women dispersed.

  “I think so,” Anna said, unable to control the quake in her voice.

  “Let me take you back to the village.”

  “No. Dat’s . . . that’s what they want. That’s what she wants. We can’t let them scare us, Bet. It’s important.”

  “How do you know?”

  Anna could say it was how she dealt with her uncle, but she didn’t want to get into that. Besides, she remembered some of the Indians in her book being impressed with an enemy’s show of bravery, forget the fact that they’d killed him anyway. “I read it somewhere,” she finally said, not mentioning it was fiction.

  ~*~

  It was late afternoon when Anna saw White Eagle and the other men return from their hunt. Behind White Eagle’s horse, the travois was weighed down by a dead animal. The women, as usual, ran up to take care of the beasts. This time Anna stayed behind wringing her hands.

  White Eagle strode toward her with the carcass of a bear on his travois. Pride showed on his weary face. He had done well in his hunt, and a good wife ought to reward him with praise.

  It made what she wanted to say more difficult.

  “What happened?” he said as he came up to her, his gaze locked onto her cheek. “How—?”

  “I want you to take me to Denver City tomorrow, or I’ll . . .” She squared her shoulders. “I will walk there myself!”

  He stopped and frowned.

  She wondered if he’d expected her to greet him the way the other wives had greeted their husbands, praising them for the job well done. She should have at least said something about the bear he’d killed. It was quite amazing, really.

  Other men and women untied the travois from his horse. They frowned at her, but at this point, she didn’t care what anyone thought. She didn’t belong here, just like that woman said.

  “You are my wife.” He towered over her. “You belong with me.”

  Anna stepped back. Why would he say that? Did their wedding mean something to him after all? The thought that he might actually believe they were married caused her heart to flutter. If only for a moment. Yes, she was desperate to get to Denver City, but did he really want her? She clung to the sudden hope that welled inside her. “I thought our marriage wasn’t real?”

  His eyes flickered to her ring, and he swallowed. “Of course it isn’t.” He turned away.

  Anna’s heart sunk. “Then take me home.” She choked out the words, angry and disappointed.

  He faced her, and his gaze raked over her. “A cat,” he said between clenched teeth, looking her up and down with an accusing glare. “You purr and flick your tail under my nose to tempt me.”

  Anna gasped. “I did no such thing!” She clenched her hands into fists. “I’m no temptress,” she said, barely able to control her tears. “You’re the one who brought me here. I didn’t ask to come!” She trembled, thinking of her recent battle in the woods, of his promise to take her to Denver. “You’re not a man of your word.”

  He came inches from her face. “If that’s true, I’d have taken you by now. And I don’t mean to Denver City.”

  Fear and anger paralyzed her.

  He walked on.

  Her throat clotted, and she wondered if she could still speak. “Please.” She followed after him, half running to keep up with his long strides, her voice barely passing the knot in her throat. His back was to her and a feather dangled from his hair, his broad shoulders towering over her even in their slumped, tired state. “I mean it. I’ll go alone.”

  He stopped and turned, and she nearly collided with his chest.

  “Walks Alone,” he said, his jaw ticking.

  She bristled, wondering why he suddenly called her by her Cheyenne name.

  He strode away. “The name suits you.”

  She clenched her jaw. No words for a proper response came. She wanted to cry, to stomp and scream.

  “We leave tomorrow.” He tossed the words over his shoulder.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Anna, before you go, I have to share something.” Beth pulled her aside from the others crowded around the horses that were packed and ready to go.

  “What is it?” Anna asked, sensing something very important had happened. She hoped it wasn’t something terrible, like another encounter with the woman in the woods, which would obligate her to stay.

  Tears welled in Beth’s eyes. Her cheeks bloomed with color, and a smile turned up her lips. “I’m with child.”

  Anna stared in stunned silence. She couldn’t believe her ears.

  Beth simply smiled.

  “How can that be?”

  “It just is.” Beth shrugged.

  Anna’s heart soared with delight. She took Beth by her arms and they jumped up and down, giggling. They both laughed and cried. “You’re so blessed. I simply don’t know what to say. Does Running Cloud know?”

>   Beth nodded. “He’s so careful with me.” She giggled. “Almost too careful.”

  Anna laughed and hugged her. “I am so happy for you!”

  “And he knows all about that wicked woman who tried to attack us. You can leave without worry. He’ll protect me. Besides, he says she won’t harm me because of your act of bravery. She respects you, even if she doesn’t like you, and that means she won’t harm me.” Beth brushed a dark curl from her face. “I hope you’ll be happy.”

  Anna sighed with relief. Beth would be safe. “Thank you.” Only Denver City could make Anna happy.

  She felt a tug on her clothes and looked down to see Runs With Wind.

  “Oh! I have something for you.” Anna knelt down next to the little girl and handed Runs With Wind a lock of her hair. The little girl’s face looked puzzled, but she finally smiled and hugged Anna around the neck.

  Song Bird came to the women with a worried face, holding out the folded clothes Anna had earlier refused to pack. “You wear these.”

  Anna looked at the clothes as Song Bird continued to hold them out to her. Reluctantly, Anna took them. “Thank you.” She’d lost track of how many times Song Bird had tried to coax her into wearing the improper man-like clothing. “I’ll pack it on the horse,” she said, hoping to have reached a compromise.

  Song Bird nodded and turned away.

  ~*~

  White Eagle let Song Bird take him by the arm and pull him aside. He gazed into the woman’s eyes, wondering why they were round with concern.

  “Walks Alone is afraid,” Song Bird said in Cheyenne. “But she is strong. She saved Beth’s life. Return to us soon. Be proud and not ashamed. She’s the only woman brave enough to fight our female warrior. She wears the mark of Beaver Claws.”

  He looked at Anna’s scratched cheek. He assumed she’d caught herself on a tree branch. Now he understood. Now he understood everything.