by Jenna Kernan
“I think it’s what I deserved.”
She gripped his chin and looked into his eyes. “No, Thomas. It’s not. We deserved a chance. We deserved the truth and both of us deserve forgiveness.”
He looped an arm around her shoulder and sighed wearily. “Maybe so, maybe so.”
He lay back, drawing her beneath the buffalo robes. Their bodies entwined like honeysuckle about a climbing rose.
She felt at ease beside him once more. She wondered if she should tell him that she still loved him, but hesitated, fearing to lose this tender moment.
Tomorrow, she promised. She would tell him then.
“We won’t give up, Sarah,” whispered Thomas. “Not ever.”
Sarah breathed in the scent of Thomas and the buffalo hide, allowing herself to draw comfort from his presence. Perhaps the chief would change his mind and return her daughter. Perhaps.
Sarah’s eyes drifted closed and her breathing grew heavy.
Someone shook her shoulder. Sarah blinked up at Water Blossom. “We must go ready the horses.”
Sarah sat up, pushing her tangled hair from her eyes. Morning had caught her unawares. She glanced about to see that Thomas had left their bed.
The hope that seemed so bright last night shivered in the cold dawn of the Sioux camp.
“Keep your robe up over your hair,” reminded Water Blossom as they made their way to the horse corral.
Sarah tugged her hat down low and tied her muffler about her head and face.
As they approached the penned animals, a woman stepped before Water Blossom. The two engaged in conversation. The tone seemed civilized, but Sarah saw her friend’s eyes widen at the woman’s words.
Water Blossom motioned to the woman, who looked to be somewhat older than Sarah.
“This is Yellow Bird, the mother of Eagle Dancer,” she said.
Sarah shook her head in confusion.
Water Blossom’s eyes rounded meaningfully. “The warrior who has wed your daughter.”
Sarah’s attention snapped to the woman again as Water Blossom continued.
“She says your daughter has cast an evil spell on the heart of her son.”
Her friend turned back to the woman and Sarah stood on tiptoe as she strained to understand their words. At last Water Blossom translated.
“She says she will take me to your daughter. She wants her gone from the village.”
“We will take her away,” said Sarah.
Water Blossom shook her head. “I have said that. She says that we cannot. The sentries will never let us pass and her son will know of her deceit.”
Sarah’s mind reeled at the thought of seeing Lucie.
“We must sneak her away.”
Water Blossom spoke to the woman and then to Sarah. “She says the chief has posted guards at your daughter’s teepee until after we leave. But she wants the girl gone and says she will kill her if she does not go.”
Sarah took a step toward the woman, reaching for her knife. Water Blossom slipped between them, as the mother of her enemy backed away.
“This will not help,” said Water Blossom.
Then the idea came to Sarah. All at once and completely formed, the solution sprang from her mind like Athena from Zeus.
“We could both go. Once inside, Lucie can take my robes and leave in my place.”
Water Blossom stared in astonishment. When she found her tongue she said, “Your daughter would not wish to leave you behind.”
Her hope burst, for Sarah believed this was true. Then she knew what must be done. Could she do it? Did she have the strength to come so close and not speak to her child?
Yes. To save Lucie, she could do anything.
“I won’t let her see me. You bring my clothing to her and tell her you’ve come for her. Don’t mention me. Tell her to keep silent and take my place in line.”
Water Blossom looked doubtful.
“It will work.” Sarah motioned to their accomplice. “Tell her.”
Water Blossom did and the woman nodded. The women waited as she gathered her things from the teepee. Sarah collected the necessary garments and added the new coat Thomas had purchased for Lucie.
“Will she not recognize the robes of her mother?” asked Water Blossom.
Sarah looked at the traveling dress, muffler and coat that Thomas had provided. “These are new. She has not seen them.”
Water Blossom accepted the clothing and spoke to the other woman. In a moment they were off, following Yellow Bird.
They stopped as Yellow Bird spoke to the trader’s wife.
Water Blossom nodded and then turned to Sarah. “Do not show your face to the guards as we enter. This way, three women go in and three women come out. Your daughter must not see you. Once we are away, the sentries will leave and Yellow Bird has promised me she will lead you from the village and put you on our trail.”
Sarah nodded, caring only to get Lucie safely away. “Yes. Where is Lucie?”
“She waits in the teepee just ahead.”
Sarah’s heart squeezed with joy. She was so close. Would this work?
She stiffened her spine against the uncertainty. It had to.
Sarah’s heart ached as she recalled that she could not speak to her child or kiss her goodbye. Sarah exhaled against the pain tearing through her.
She had little faith that Yellow Bird would lead her to safety. But if Lucie could escape, it would be worth the sacrifice. Thomas would care for Lucie now.
“Are you ready?” asked Water Blossom.
Sarah nodded. “If something happens, tell Lucie I love her and see that she gets to Thomas.”
“This I will do.” Water Blossom smiled and Sarah lifted the robe to cover her head.
Water Blossom clasped her hand and led her along.
Through the small opening in her robe, she spied two sentries beside a small teepee. One stood as they approached.
Yellow Bird spoke and they waved them in.
Sarah lowered her head, ducked into the tent and sat, clutching the robe with all her might. It took all her will not to toss the hide back and seize her child.
She heard Yellow Bird speak, then a familiar voice replied in Sioux.
Lucie!
Sarah started to rise and then forced herself back down. There was a rustling sound. Sarah lifted her gaze from the trampled grass to stare at her daughter’s bare legs and new moccasins. Next, Lucie’s tattered dress fell about her ankles. More rustling followed and a brief exchange of words. At last Water Blossom touched Sarah’s shoulder.
“We go,” she whispered.
Sarah lifted her head in time to see Lucie dressed in her mother’s clothing, with the muffler wrapped about her head. Water Blossom draped a buffalo robe about Lucie’s shoulders and glanced back, lifting a hand in silent farewell.
Tears sprang from Water Blossom’s eyes.
A choking sob rose in Sarah’s throat, but she made no sound as Lucie turned. Sarah lowered her head before their eyes could meet. There was a rush of cold air and the thump of the wood frame as the hide flap fell closed.
Sarah straightened.
She was alone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Thomas glanced back once more to find Sarah still riding behind Water Blossom, her head lowered so it nearly reached her saddle horn. She seemed the picture of grief and misery. He had tried to speak to her earlier but Water Blossom had interceded, telling him that Sarah had requested that he leave her in peace until she chose to speak to him.
He knew it was hard for her to abandon Lucie, but they had ridden most of the morning and still she sat dejected, staring at her saddle horn. He gritted his teeth and tried to turn away, but found he could no longer honor her request. He laid the reins across his horse’s neck, bringing him about.
Water Blossom eyed him as he passed but did not move to hinder him. He had little time to consider the worry in her eyes before he drew next to Sarah.
She seemed smaller, frailer from her
burden. He waited for her to note his appearance but when she did not, he spoke.
“Sarah?”
Her chin lifted and Sarah’s eyes met his, but the face was that of a stranger. He gasped in horror as he stared. Then recognition dawned. He knew this face that so resembled his own.
His daughter drew back the pink muffler covering her head and her strawberry blond hair shone bright in the gray morning. What had Sarah said when he asked if the child was his? Something like, “Wait until you see her, Thomas. You’ll know.”
And so he did.
He smiled at his daughter, the girl he had only imagined.
“Lucie?”
She nodded.
He reached out to stroke her cheek and the muffler fell to her throat, revealing the ugly blue marks upon her chin. He recoiled before he could stop himself and saw the shame in his daughter’s eyes.
Anger pulsed in his veins as he recognized the marks the savages had drawn upon his little girl’s pretty face. The urge to kill someone nearly blinded him.
His jaw locked in rage as he looked about for the enemy. It was then that he first realized Sarah was not here.
Thomas craned his head about, becoming frantic.
“Sarah!” he called. Then turned to his daughter, grasping her arm.
“Where is she? Where is your mother?”
Lucie stammered. “I—I don’t know. I never saw her.”
She followed the direction of his stare, back the way they had come across the frozen wasteland of prairie now dusted with snow. Overhead, low dark clouds swept in from the north.
He spurred his horse to Water Blossom’s. The trader’s wife did not wait for his question.
“She stayed behind so Lucie’s captors would not see that we have stolen your daughter.”
The surge of terror that ripped through him was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He thought his heart might burst from his fear.
Sarah was back there with the enemy. They would kill her, just like Alice French.
Thomas wheeled his horse about. “I’m going back.”
“The ones who helped us promised to steal her from the village and set her on our path.”
Thomas shouted to Roubideaux. “Take them to the trading post.”
Roubideaux’s face turned red as he glared from Lucie to his wife. “Damn the post. Those Sioux figure out this double cross, they’ll be on us like a pack of wolves. We’re making for Laramie. Come along if you don’t like dying.”
Thomas turned to Lucie. “Follow them. Don’t fall behind.”
Lucie nodded and then lifted the soft muffler up to hide her chin as the stranger spurred his horse, retracing their path at a gallop. He had looked at her as if he knew her and he called her by name. He said her mother was there. She didn’t understand what was happening.
“Move out,” shouted the grizzled old man.
Lucie lifted her gaze to the billowing clouds and tightened her buffalo robe about her shoulders. She had never had a robe of her own, and she intended not to lose this one. The Indian woman with the kind face, riding before her, had also given her a dress, a wool coat and the pink scarf.
Lucie’s spotted horse needed no urging to follow, responding before she had time to lift the reins. The pretty Appaloosa had more freckles than she did.
Lucie smiled at that. It didn’t last. Soon her brow wrinkled in confusion again.
For so long she had dreamed of rescue and could scarcely credit that she was now away. After months of waiting, her retrieval had happened with a suddenness she did not understand.
Yellow Bird shouting at her as she changed from the tattered cotton into a fine blue dress. A strange woman draped her head with the pink scarf and then a buffalo robe. She had kept the calf-high moccasins Eagle Dancer had given her as a wedding gift.
And who was the other woman, the shrouded one who had stood silent and apart?
The hairs on Lucie’s neck prickled as she mulled over what had just happened. The strange man looking so stunned to see her. What had he said? Where is your mother? His look of panic haunted her.
With a shake of her shoulders, she cast off the vague dread. She was away, miles and miles away. This leader, with the beard, would take her to her mother, then she would get her answers—if they got away.
She glanced over her shoulder for signs of pursuit. The sound she heard was not a war cry but only the rising wind shrieking over the prairie like a banshee. Next came the ice, like stinging shards of glass, pelting her exposed hands and face. She withdrew further beneath the robe and huddled as the gale lifted her skirts, sending a blast of frigid air all the way up her bloomers.
They rode on, as the storm grew fierce. She fought not to lose sight of the mule whose travois scrapped along the icy path. By now Eagle Dancer would have noticed her absence and set out in pursuit. He would be so angry. Lucie’s heart pounded in her throat.
Even her husband could not find her in this storm. She was half-grateful for the savage wind that turned her surroundings into a rolling sea of white, until she remembered the man and his wild gallop north.
As her feet grew numb and her bottom throbbed from the long ride, she began to worry less about capture and more about being lost in the storm.
Did the man know where he was going? She could barely see the line of horses, let alone the trail.
When the horse before her stopped, her mount dutifully halted before she could draw back the reins. Her gelding’s head hung as if he were too weary to lift it and ice crystals coated his long lashes. Only his pricked ears told Lucie he was alert.
Why had they stopped? It took a moment for her eyes to discern the building. A house?
Her breathing quickened as she tried to recall when she had last seen a sod house. It seemed a lifetime.
The woman dismounted and motioned for her to follow. But she seemed rooted in place, disbelieving her own eyes. Her lip began to quiver as a tiny choked sound emerged from her strangled throat. Was this real? Had she reached freedom at last?
Her gaze remained fixed upon the sod structure, afraid somehow that should she glance away or even blink, the vision might be torn away from her once more.
A tiny seed of hope rooted in her heart. What if her mother was waiting for her just behind those doors?
With renewed energy she threw her leg across her saddle, ignoring the sting of tears that wetted her numb face.
She groaned as she slid to the ground, but her mount gave a sigh of relief. She followed the others, leading her gelding to the barn.
As she crossed the threshold the howl of the gale changed. She no longer felt the wind buffeting her. Now it wailed like a stubborn child denied entrance.
She stood trembling in the darkness. The sweet familiar scent of hay filled her nostrils. A flame sparked as the man struck a match and lit a lantern hanging by a wire from an overhead beam.
“Get the door,” he shouted.
Lucie, now used to jumping to fulfill an order, dropped the reins and dashed back to slide the door along its rollers. When she had finished, she leaned against the solid planking, panting. Her breath came in little white puffs of vapor. The man now balled his fists at his sides. Lucie recognized the mutinous rage twisting his features and glanced about the enclosure in search of a place to escape.
When she glanced back she saw he stood before the Indian woman.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” he shouted. “They’ll be on us as soon as they realize you’ve stolen her. They’ll kill us all!”
She made no reply as he loomed over her. Lucie eyed a wicked-looking pitchfork and inched closer to the weapon. The ogre spewed twin streams of white vapor from his flaring nostrils over his frosted beard. He seemed, to her, a fire-breathing dragon.
“Answer me!” he shouted.
She didn’t.
“Unsaddle these horses.” He stormed out the door leaving Lucie alone with the silent Indian.
The woman exchanged the bridles for harnesses on th
e horses and faced the storm once more to remove the travois and collect both mules. Lucie forked hay into the crib for the animals. It took more time to drag the travois into the enclosure. Next, they stacked the supplies against the wall.
The Indian finished by chopping the ice from the large barrel to reach the water beneath. She filled the horses’ buckets and then straightened, motioning to the door. Together they rolled the barrier aside and then closed it once more. The woman grasped Lucie’s hand and pulled her along.
When Lucie glanced forward she could not see the house. Terrified of being lost in this sea of white, she reached to clasp the hand of the woman who held her wrist. Together, they stood paralyzed in the blinding storm. Lucie’s heart seemed to stop as the snow swirled and then, there it was, just ahead and to the right. They ran now, dashing headlong for the safety of the sod structure until they touched the rough clods of earth. Only then did Lucie draw a breath.
On the leeward side of the house, the snow did not blind them. She noted the small shuttered window and, at last, the front door. The woman fumbled for the handle, lifting the latch.
The man turned toward the door as they entered, then returned to the business of tending his new fire.
Lucie looked around.
Empty wooden crates filled the shelves along the sod walls. Perhaps in the early fall this was a trading post, but now it seemed a cold, dusty shell. More empty crates, once holding liquor, lay stacked behind the door.
The woman moved forward to relieve the man of the fire tending and he sat on a low stool, his hands outstretched to the flame. Lucie crept forward, lured by the promise of warmth, yet wary of the man. He did not want her here.
The trader muttered.
“Never be welcome again. You’ve ruined us, you know that. Burned our bridges for good and all.”
Lucie hung in the shadows as the woman chopped ice from the water barrel and set the chunks in a black kettle. Lucie huddled in her robe as the woman sliced potatoes and added barley to the pot, and then set it over the stove. After the man ate, the woman offered Lucie a bowl. Lucie nodded at the kindness. She had not eaten for so long.
