White Vengeance

by Susan Edwards

  Renny nodded to her brother. Dressed in their native clothing, he looked like a small warrior, especially with the feather in his hair. She turned to Daire, who was also dressed in breechclout, leggings and vest.

  “Daire, what do you see?”

  “One person. One horse.” He’d walked around, stepping lightly, his moccasins leaving no prints. He held up his foot to one of the prints. “A grown man.”

  Kealan, who had wandered away, called out. “He goes this way.” Renny walked over, spotted the deeper indents of a heel in the ground and ruffled her brother’s hair. “You have good eyes,” she praised.

  Together, brother and sister followed the tracks on foot. Then, to Renny’s disappointment, the horse tracks faded into a sea of marshlike grass.

  They were at the bottom of a rise of land. Water had collected, making tracking impossible.

  “Spread out,” she called to the others who’d followed on horseback. Everyone dismounted. “Kealan, you and Reed go north, Tyler and Daire east.”

  “You’re not going off alone,” Tyler said, daring her to argue.

  Renny sighed, rolled her eyes at him then glanced at Maze. The woman didn’t wait to be asked.

  “She won’t be alone. I’ll be with her.”

  Renny grinned when she saw Tyler’s disappointment. She and Maze headed west while Mattie and Caitie waited behind.

  Renny climbed a slight hump of golden grass. Spread out below them, the land was open, they could see in all directions. It was mostly flat but for the brown humps and hills of prairie land.

  She and Maze covered a large distance before admitting defeat. All they’d found was evidence of a herd of antelope, which meant there was water in close range.

  “Nothing,” she said with a sigh of disappointment.

  “Do not give up hope, child.” Maze’s voice was gentle.

  When they returned, Reed and Kealan were waiting with Mattie and Caitie on top of the small hill where the ground was drier.

  They were looking at her. To her. Even Mattie seemed to be staring at her, though Renny knew it was because her sister heard them approaching.

  From her vantage point, she could see Tyler and Daire still searching. It wasn’t looking very promising.

  She glanced skyward. “Now what?” she whispered to herself. If Tyler and Daire came back empty-handed, she’d have to admit defeat.

  “What would the child do?” Maze’s voice drifted around her, through her, inside her, warming her from the inside out, calming the nervous pounding of her heart.

  Renny glanced at the woman. “Kealan or Caitie?”

  Maze laughed softly. “No, child.” She stared intently at Renny for a moment before slowly closing her eyes, then reopening them.

  Renny gasped. Maze’s eyes had turned a rich, dark blue, like that of a glass-smooth lake. In those eyes, she saw herself reflected there. Or rather, a much younger version—the child she’d once been. Renny, the woman, stared at Renny, the child.

  “Who are you?” she asked Maze, her voice hoarse with fear and excitement. She blinked, and her reflection was gone.

  For a moment, Maze seemed to shimmer. “I am one who wishes to help you,” came the simple reply.

  “Trust yourself. Find that child within and let her guide you.” Maze turned and walked away.

  Renny stared down at her, and for just a fleeting moment, the woman’s single, silvery braid seemed to swish and flow like the tail of a horse.

  “I know you,” she whispered.

  Maze glanced over her shoulder. She was smiling. “Yes, child. We know each other well. Trust yourself. Do what the child would do.”

  Stunned, confused and a bit unnerved, Renny watched as Maze joined Mattie. Caitie went right into her arms. Renny had the feeling she knew just how Caitie felt around the woman: safe, loved and secure. Exactly how Renny had felt in her dream so long ago. Silver Star, her companion during both day and night, had always made her feel warm and safe. And very loved.

  It seemed too much to take in. First her dream last night, the return of her beliefs, and now this. Renny shook her head. This was much more powerful. And scary. For it meant that if she was right, Maze was none other than Silver Star.

  Once more, the spirit horse had entered her life.

  Renny wanted to go to her, beg her to guide her, teach her what she needed to know. Even more, she wanted comfort and forgiveness for having doubted.

  But she didn’t chase after the woman. The spirit had given her the answers or else she would not nave walked off. Renny turned back to the view.

  Already another storm was gathering. The clouds scuttling together, forming huge thunderheads. Before the day was over, they’d be wet.

  But how did this knowledge help her? Below, Tyler and Daire were still searching. Kealan had run down to join them.

  What would the child do?

  Renny frowned. As a child, she’d tended to act first, think later. She’d gotten into many a scrape with her impulsive, impatient nature.

  Slowly she turned in a circle.

  What would the child do?

  She wouldn’t have given up. That much she knew. She’d keep searching, too stubborn to stop until she found what she wanted. Maybe she needed to go back down there, retrace her steps. Perhaps she’d overlooked something.

  A shout drew her attention. Tyler and Kealan were on the next rise. Kealan was jumping up and down.

  Renny didn’t hesitate. “Stay here,” she told Mattie, Reed and Maze. She jumped onto the back of her horse and rode over to join them. “What is it?” She jumped off before the horse stopped.

  “We found some tracks. They go that way.” Kealan was pointing northeast.

  “Let’s get back to the others. The rain is starting.” A few fat drops had just begun to fall.

  She’d just mounted when the first rumble of thunder rolled across the land.

  “Renny, we need to wait out the storm.” Tyler had grabbed her by the arm.

  Renny shook her head. “Can’t. We’ll lose the trail.” She signaled the others with a loud call and the waving of her hands.

  When the rest of them arrived, they once again mounted. Renny was ready to give the order to ride when Tyler called her name.

  “What?” She didn’t have time to talk, or fight.

  “Look.” Tyler was pointing.

  The heavens had just opened in a burst of water. She peered through the sheet of rain. “What—”

  “Look,” he said urgently. “A horse.”

  A flash of lightning illuminated the land below her. And she saw it. Her magnificent horse. The golden one who seemed to be her helpmate in this journey.

  He stood watching them, then turned and ran east.

  “It’s him,” Renny breathed. Far in the distance, she saw the yellow-gold of the horse, the high flick of a pale tail. She held her breath.

  What would the child do?

  Renny firmed her lips. The child. She, Renny, would follow that horse. No matter where it led her or what anyone said, she’d follow the horse. She’d follow her heart and trust in the wisdom of the spirits that were guiding her.

  Renny glanced at Maze. Maze just met her gaze, leaving it up to Renny. Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, the child within her demanded that they follow that horse. But the woman the child had become was wiser now.

  More cautious.

  Finally, Renny made her decision based on a combination of what she once had been and what she’d become.

  She nodded to the horse that everyone was now watching. He rose up on his hind feet and pawed the air. Then he turned and galloped away.

  Renny’s heart was with the horse. Something drew her to him. She made up her mind. “I’m following the horse to the east. Reed, take everyone els
e and follow the tracks.”

  Tyler moved beside her. “Are you sure? The horse is going in the opposite direction of the trail we found.”

  Before Renny could answer him, another flash of light lit the heavens. Several bolts of lightning raced across the sky like rivers of molten silver. And there in the center, Renny saw something she’d never forget: the silvery image of a horse rearing high into the sky, mouth open.

  Silence fell over the group. Even Tyler was struck dumb.

  With tears in her eyes, she nudged Tyler. “You’re with me.”

  Tyler nodded, his gaze glued to the now rain-laden clouds. “Without a doubt, Miss O’Brien. Without a doubt.”

  * * *

  Brenna hid with Gil in the trees. Out on the prairie, a band of Indians was hunting. Antelope fled in every direction, the flash of their white tails a signal that could be seen for a great distance.

  “Maybe I should give you to them,” Gil said. “You want to go live with them, don’t you?” he asked, his voice filled with contempt.

  Brenna didn’t respond. It wasn’t the first time Gil had made the threat. She knew he was trying to frighten her. He got perverse pleasure in frightening her, and making her beg.

  She pressed her fingers to her lips to keep them from trembling. “They’re gone,” she said, getting to her feet. She went to where their horses waited.

  “Then let’s go,” Gil ordered, shoving her out of his way.

  Leaning against her horse, Brenna knew she couldn’t take much more. Her nerves were shot. She was hungry, tired and getting discouraged, losing heart.

  Listen to your heart.

  She recalled the eagle she’d seen that morning and her decision to follow her heart. She glanced up at her brother on his horse, the rifle cradled in his arms. His eyes were glazed with grief, anger and exhaustion.

  Brenna got onto her horse. When Gil turned away, she remained where she was.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Get moving, Bree.”

  “No, Gil,” she said. “I’m sorry.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “What do you mean, no?” His voice rose with fury. “You promised.”

  Brenna’s eyes filled with tears. “I know. And I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  She took a deep breath and gathered her shreds of courage around her. “It was wrong. All of this. It’s all wrong.”

  Gil’s lips twisted in a sneer. “Yeah, you started it. It’s all your fault.”

  Brenna felt the familiar cloak of guilt slide over her. “No,” she shouted. “Not all of this is my fault. I made a choice. It was wrong. But you made a choice too, Gil. You chose to shoot Matthew. You shot him in cold blood.” She covered her mouth with her hands. God, don’t let him have killed Matthew.

  It was time for her to take a stand. The right stand. She couldn’t change the past, couldn’t change what Gil had done, but she could end it now. She’d return to Matthew.

  If he was dead, she’d take his body home and she’d live with the guilt of leaving him forever.

  It didn’t matter that Gil had left her little choice. If Matthew was dead, then it didn’t matter that she’d tried to bargain for his life. But if Matthew was alive, somehow, someway, then maybe she had done the right thing.

  But it was time to go back.

  “I’m leaving, Gil.”

  Gil spun his horse around. “You can’t,” he screamed. “You promised.”

  “Then let me go, Gil. I’m your sister. Your sister,” she cried, tears streaming down her face.

  “You’re all I have,” he said fiercely. “I won’t let you go.”

  “Then I’m sorry, Gil. I’m so very sorry.” She turned her horse.

  “I’ll shoot you,” he screamed at her.

  Brenna looked at him one last time. “Then you will have killed all that you have left, Gil.”

  She held out a hand. “Gil, it isn’t too late. Come with me.”

  Gil fingered the trigger. “Never. I’ll never go back and I won’t let you go either.”

  “Then we have no more to say, Gil.”

  She turned once more. Her heart pounded painfully loud in her ears, and her chest felt ready to explode. One moment turned into two. Silence stretched taut between them.

  “Goodbye, Gil,” she whispered, not turning to look at her brother.

  Crying, she urged her horse forward. She felt Gil’s eyes on her, felt the rifle aimed at the center of her back. She broke out in a sweat of sheer terror.

  Would he kill her? With each step, she wondered. Would he call her name? Would he run after her, try to stop her? Would he threaten her again or would he just make good on his promise to kill her if she ever left him again?

  Nothing happened. She urged her horse a bit faster, holding her breath the whole time. She let the air out of her lungs and kept going, sobbing loudly, hoping one day Gil would forgive her.

  Suddenly a shot rang out.

  Chapter Twenty

  Matthew woke as though from a long sleep. He glanced around. He had no idea how long it had been since Gil had shot him.

  He also had trouble distinguishing dreams from reality. But he thought he remembered hearing Brenna crying, her lips so close to his own, telling him she was sorry, that she had to go, right before the veil of darkness descended.

  But was it reality or dreams? Had she known that Gil would come for her? Had they planned this? His heart immediately rejected that Brenna would do anything to hurt him. But, he’d never have suspected that Gil would shoot him either.

  He struggled to sit up, gasping in pain. He’d thought it hurt when he’d gotten shot in the thigh nearly a month ago. But this was worse. Much worse.

  His side burned, as though on fire. He felt the bulky bandage, felt the strips of torn cloth that bound the bandage to him biting into his waist.

  As he sat, a small object fell from his bare chest. He was clothed only in his loincloth.

  It was a tiny leather pouch with no markings. But as he held it, felt the warmth of it, he knew it was Brenna’s medicine bag.

  He brought it up to his nose. Her scent clung to it. “Brenna,” whispered. The need to find her rose in him. If she’d left this with him—for him—then she was not part of this treachery.

  She’d asked him once what was in his medicine bag. It was larger than hers, usually worn on his belt. He’d told her that the contents were only known to the owner, and then he’d taught her the value and uses of a medicine bag.

  He’d had no idea that she’d made her own. Though he longed to see what she considered to be her medicine, he didn’t open it. But the fact that she’d left it gave his heart hope. The canvas above his head sagged, as though the wind had loosened it, and there was a long, narrow strip missing from one side. He glanced at the bandage around his waist. It had come from the shelter. Someone had been here tending him.

  An old man. He remembered the gruff yet gentle voice, the firm and tender hands. He frowned. He also recalled chanting. And prayers.

  Reaching over cautiously, Matthew picked up the flask of water that the old man had kept filled and within easy reach. Matthew drank deeply.

  Shifting, he managed to scoot his body over to the trunk of the tree where he’d tied one corner of the canvas cloth.

  He leaned back and took stock of his injuries. With every breath in and out, his side hurt as though dozens of spears were being jabbed into him. He pulled the bandage away, saw the raw and red wound, and the seepage of blood.

  His side looked as though it had been torn from him.

  Blinking, struggling not to give in to the urge to lie back down and drift along in a pain-free world, he peered outside. He couldn’t see anything.

  “Old Man,” he called, his voice weak as a newborn’s. He couldn’
t remember the man’s name. A small heap on his other side drew his attention. He reached out and picked up Brenna’s shawl.

  His heart nearly burst through his chest when he saw the blood on it. “No. No,” he said over and over. She couldn’t be hurt. He didn’t remember her being hurt.

  A shadow moved outside. Matt clutched the shawl. “Old Man,” he shouted. Unable to help himself, Matthew shook the shawl out, ignoring the pain. He studied the blood. It was hard, dried and all in one spot, as though used to soak up blood.

  Matt felt his side. Had Brenna tried to help him? Did that mean she was alive? With Gil?

  He closed his eyes, pulling from the haze of pain, and remembered Gil shouting at him.

  “You took her from me. You left me alone.”

  A rush of wind whipped into the shelter with a low whistle. Matthew’s eyes flew open. He searched the shelter, and found the food pouch gone, along with her personal things.

  “She’s alive. She has to be.” He twisted again to look outside. The old man must be off hunting. He struggled to his feet with a goodly amount of sweating and cursing.

  “Can’t wait. Must find Brenna.” He waited until he got his breath back before taking his first step. While he walked on legs that trembled like a newborn fawn’s, he wondered how much time had passed. He had a vague memory of asking the old man that same question but had only gotten riddles instead.

  When he was sure he could walk without toppling over, he left the shelter. It was as he remembered—a small clearing with many saplings crowded together along with some thick brush.

  It had made a good shelter. It had not been a safe one, however. The shelter he’d sought had also provided cover for Gil and had allowed the man to sneak up on them.

  Matt would never forgive himself for being so careless. Though he hadn’t been speaking to Brenna, he hadn’t been able to make himself travel faster to get rid of her.

  So he’d decided to go slow. Make her walk much of the way. They’d lived off the land—she found them berries and roots, he hunted in the way of his parents and grandparents.