by Rita Karnopp
"Stop talking such foolishness. Trail Walker always told me if I believe I can or I can't…I'm always right. I now understand what he meant. If you say you're going to die or live, you're right! The decision is yours. Believe which one you want, it'll happen."
"If only I could believe like you. I wish Trail Walker had been my friend."
"He can be, Melody. When you get back tell him I don't want him to mourn me. Tell him I'm happy. Tell him I want you to replace me. He'll understand." Pausing to regain composure, Sarah continued, "All I ask is that you give him a chance. Tell him that…I love him like a father and I will always love him." Sarah glanced away, fighting tears that swelled with love and longing. Why hadn't he come? The nagging question frightened her.
Sarah grabbed Melody's wrist and led her to the pony. Taking the blanket from her hand, Sarah tossed it onto the animal's back. "You have to remember to follow our old trail. Once you reach the wagons the trail should be even easier to follow. You can do it, Melody. I just know you can."
"I'm not so sure. René brought us a long way. What if I get lost?"
"You've got to grow up. I can't do it for you. You can do it if you really want to. Look around you and tell me you want to stay. This is real. Even if they let you come with us, it's a matter of days before another warrior decides he wants to claim you for his woman. You decide. Do you want to go back home, or stay? Don't take too long to decide. We're leaving now."
"I'll go," Melody whispered, distress mounting. "I already said I'd go. I just wanted you to go with me."
Sarah turned and walked over to Eagle Shield. "She's ready."
Eagle Shield handed Sarah a leather strap, on one end hung a water bag, the other a leather pouch of pemmican.
Sarah watched his hand gestures, and then turned back to Melody. "He said to use this sparingly. It should be enough to get you back if you eat once a day. You won't have any problem with having enough water. You just have to remember to fill the bag at every watering hole you come across." Giving Melody a hug, Sarah sensed the girl's fear. Pushing a distance between them, Sarah said, "You'd better get going. Travel fast. Keep your eyes alert. Good luck and God bless you, Melody Briar."
"Thank you, Sarah."
A silent Eagle Shield lifted Melody to the pony's back.
Sarah didn't hide her tear-streaked face. She didn't care if they saw her grief. The fear in Melody's eyes betrayed the confident exterior she'd bravely showed. Sarah prayed Melody's fear would be replaced with hope as she rode from camp.
Emptiness engulfed Sarah as her one link with civilization left. Watching Melody's back, as she rode away, rekindled feelings of hopelessness as memories of Maria surfaced.
Eagle Shield gripped Sarah's waist, then lifted her onto Cloud's back. His fingers lingered, causing her to shift with anxiety. How long would it take before Eagle Shield claimed her for his woman? She swallowed, forcing the thought from her mind.
But thoughts of Eagle Shield refused to go away. So did images of a frightened Melody struggling to find her way back to the fort. Lonely yearnings for Trail Walker, and even the hero, haunted Sarah during the long, hard ride.
Their leader stopped to camp alongside a lake. Sarah marveled at its stillness, it shimmered like wet glass. She sat on her blanket, back resting against a boulder, and watched the sun set behind the mountains. The rugged summits silhouetted sharp outlines against the golden light still lingering in the western sky. The distant snow-capped peaks, intervening forest-covered ridges, and the silver crescent of the new moon, reflected in the quiet lake.
Sarah couldn't help wondering how Melody would spend her first night alone. How far had she traveled this first day? Was I right in sending her back? Sarah asked herself for the hundredth time.
"Sarah missing friend?"
Eagle Shield's voice startled her. She yearned for privacy with her thoughts. "I can't help wondering if she's safe. I'm hoping today brought her many miles closer to home."
"Sarah come share blanket this night?"
How she dreaded hearing that question. She looked up to find his dark eyes boring into hers. Silence hung between them.
"No answer question."
"I'm grateful for your kindness, Eagle Shield. I have always thought that when I shared a man's blanket it would be because I loved him. Not because I felt I had to." She watched him shift his weight, thinking about her words.
"What is this love?"
"I'm not sure. I mean…I think I know. It's a feeling between a woman and man when they want to be together all the time. It's a feeling that makes you happy inside. I don't know, Eagle Shield. I've never felt this love."
"You don't have this love for me, do you? I would be kind to you. I am a great warrior. Your tipi would never be empty of food."
Sarah looked off across the shimmering lake. Would she rather be Eagle Shield's wife, than marry Giles Rutledge or René? How quickly her mind answered yes!
"You should answer. It is insult to ignore person who talk to you."
His words broke her reverie. She found herself missing some of the quiet that allowed her to think things through. "I'm sorry. I've been deaf for many years. I'm use to being quiet. I didn't mean to be rude."
"Blanket ready when Sarah ready."
"Thank you. In time I think I could learn to love you. I just need more time." She felt him watching her. She chose to look out into the night. Had she seen a movement across the lake, or had she imagined it? Should she warn the others? Warn them of what? Sarah stared at the tall grass, the cottonwoods hanging over the water, the log that lay half submerged…nothing moved. Yet, the feeling lingered.
She glanced at Eagle Shield. She read sadness, a rejection in his expression. She placed her hand on his arm and felt him flinch. She quickly withdrew it. She watched him look out across the lake, then turn and walk away.
Wondering if he'd seen or felt the presence of someone across the lake, she studied the terrain once more. She couldn't help asking herself if Eagle Shield could feel love for her. Would he be honored if his woman found favor with the Great Spirit?
Darkness enveloped her like a black blanket. She heard the others talking in low tones among themselves. She heard the crackling of their fire. She listened to the lonely sounds of night. She even heard the beating of her own heart.
Only the persistent buzzing and annoying attack of hundreds of mosquitoes forced her to take refuge by the campfire. She noticed a blanket had been spread out a short distance from Eagle Shield. She moved toward it, glad to see pemmican and water awaited her.
She'd considered thanking him, but refrained, nervous about their previous conversation. She pulled her horse blanket tighter around her shoulders, and nestled near the warm, inviting flames. Biting off a chuck of meat, sucking and chewing, she accepted the strength of the buffalo. She closed her eyes, feeling the ever-watchful vigilance of Eagle Shield.
She brought to mind dancing with the stranger. Sarah pulled back to see his face, but no…he couldn't be the hero. She stared at the Indian before her. His long, shiny black hair had been pulled back from his face and plaited, hanging below each ear, wrapped in leather stretches before hanging free. A thick braid hung from the crown at the back of his head, decorated with a single white eagle feather.
His massive bronze chest remained bare except for a neck choker of white bones and large turquoise beads. Another necklace of carefully knotted leather displayed a medicine whistle.
She glanced up to his face and found his striking high cheekbones held an expression of power. His nose appeared less flat and broad than most. She paused to take in the soft, well-formed lips that fascinated her.
Daring to meet his gaze, she drew in a breath. They showed intelligence and independence of spirit. They were compelling, magnetic, drawing her into the smoldering depths of his soul.
A strong, driving need filled her. He pulled her closer. She sensed his urgency, and realized she, too, wanted to press against him. Breathless, she―
Sarah crouched low in the thick foliage. The dark night aided in her security.
The Sioux's most hated enemy, the Blackfeet, attacked with a vengeance. For the first time she heard the frightening screeches and whoops of fighting warriors. She didn't have to see knives slicing skin and bone, to know these things were happening. She heard only slight moans, faint reactions to the injuries inflicted. A warrior didn't give his enemy the satisfaction of hearing his pain, a weakness that wouldn't be rewarded in the Sand Hills.
In horror, Sarah watched a large Blackfeet dive at Eagle Shield, pinning him to the ground. She caught a glimpse of the Blackfeet's risen tomahawk in the moonlight. She pinched her eyes shut. She couldn't watch him kill the man who'd saved her life. She suddenly realized she did care. She didn't want him to die.
She pressed her face into her palms. Her body trembled from the fearful images her mind created. She peaked between her fingers and the brush, afraid of what had been done to her friend.
Blinking, she looked again. She hadn't imagined Blackfeet warriors would be tying Eagle Shield to the base of a cottonwood tree. Were they going to torture him? She glanced around the camp. Bodies lay everywhere. She recognized the Sioux leader's headdress, knowing he'd never wear it again.
These Indians, who'd successfully attacked her Sioux captors, were Trail Walker's people? Could she take the chance they'd believe her, and could take her back to the fort? Would they instead believe her to be a Sioux squaw? They'd take her back as a slave, or kill her.
No. She'd lay low and hidden until they left. She'd double back and go after Melody, and the fort, herself.
A large Blackfeet motioned and gestured in front of Eagle Shield. Sarah watched intently, aware the Blackfeet appeared angry. She watched him grab Eagle Shield by the hair, then pull a necklace over his head. The Blackfeet shook his fist of beads, and then held them to his chest. She wondered if the necklace meant something to the warrior.
Looking about, Sarah realized there were only three Blackfeet moving about the camp. Could so few have killed so many Sioux? She'd heard Blackfeet warriors were the fiercest and deadliest of all Indians. Eight Sioux had been killed, not a single Blackfeet.
The large warrior moved back to the campfire, sitting across from the others. He spoke and there seemed to be arguing among them. Several times they looked in Eagle Shield's direction, and then had more words. She wished her hiding place had been closer so she could hear what they'd planned for Eagle Shield. She feared they were discussing how to kill him.
She decided to wait until they fell asleep, then she'd work her way toward Eagle Shield. She'd untie him. In turn, maybe he'd take her back to the fort.
The warrior's laughter sounded off in the distance. Heaviness settled in, weighing down her senses. She fought the drowsiness, concentrating on ridding herself of the mosquitoes that feasted on her flesh. Sometime between the hum of their voices, the buzzing of the insects, and the musical tones of their laughter, sleep became the victor.
Chapter Eight
Guilt riddled Two Shadow's conscious. Hadn't he, Horse Racer, and He Who Listens abandoned Trail Walker? He'd have wanted them to go after Sarah—Two Shadows felt it in his heart. He wanted to slit Giles Rutledge's throat. Nothing would convince Two Shadows that the man had nothing to do with Sarah's abduction.
Glancing at his complacent captive, Two Shadows gritted his teeth together. He'd like nothing better than to tear the life from the Sioux's breast.
So many women killed, butchered, slaughtered, by these animals. If only he and his brothers had reached Sarah before the attack. He'd found her beaded knife shield she'd gotten from Trail Walker...next to her charred body. He couldn't bring himself to even touch her. The horror of that campsite still lingered in his mind's eye. The Sioux beasts reminded him of the buffalo skinners.
The Sioux captive divulged more than Two Shadows expected. His mother's necklace confirmed he followed the right path. This first indication of finding the buffalo skinners gave Two Shadows hope. Surely the Great Spirit chosen this sign to make known his quest had begun. Two Shadows decided to send He Who Listens and Horse Racer back to help Trail Walker.
Two Shadows thought of his mother, Lame Deer, and his sweet, innocent sister, Morning Dove. They didn't deserve to die at the hands of the buffalo skinners.
Nothing could make Two Shadows forget the hideous scar-faced man laughing while he sliced and killed.
Hearing the Sioux stir, Two Shadows took another good look at his captive. He slept, neck resting down on his chest. He'd won the necklace in a game of white man's dice, so he said. The buffalo skinners had a hidden camp in the Beartooth Mountains. Two Shadows didn't want to let this Sioux free. He'd been among those who killed Sarah. But he knew how to find the camp of the buffalo skinners. Two Shadows didn't have a choice.
Before the sun rose over the mountains, Two Shadow's brothers loaded up the property and belongings of the Sioux. They'd take back to the village the exciting account of their attack on their hated enemy. They'd also take back the news that Two Shadows had gone to avenge the death of his family.
Having finished his daily prayers to the Sun and to Old Man, Two Shadows asked for divine assistance in this important undertaking. He sat, legs crossed, palms resting on each thigh. Eyes closed, he raised his face skyward, allowing the early morning breeze to pass over his flesh.
He heard women singing the wolf song, the good-luck song of warriors. He watched the Raven chief take a slender stick from a long paraflech sack. It was beautifully dressed with many colored feathers. The skin of a raven, head, wings, feet, and all, had been fastened at the end of it.
The Old Man spoke, "The Raven's eyes are sharp. His wings are strong. He is a great hunter and never hungry. Far, far off on the prairie he sees his meal and deep hidden in the pines it does not escape his eye. So too, the Raven will see his foe."
Two Shadows then saw the ground turn red...red from the bodies of his enemies falling, dying to the ground.
The cool breeze brought with it the scent of moisture. Two Shadows opened his eyes. Excitement filled him. He had indeed been given a great vision.
He knew this meant only one thing; he would be successful in his quest. He knew the raven, the wisest of birds, true friend of the warriors, had come to urge him to go on. Trail Walker had told him, "Be patient for one day you will be approached by Napi. He will guide you to set things right for our people. When this happens you will know, without question." As Trail Walker had said, Two Shadows knew—the time had come.
He approached his brothers. "You must hurry to our village, then return to help Trail Walker. You must explain why I cannot be there to help him with this problem. He will understand."
"What if we cannot find proof? What if the white seizers come back to our camp, like they said they would? They will take many of our young warriors and punish them for something they did not do." Horse Racer shook his head. "I fear they will put a rope around their necks. This is a bad thing."
He Who Listens scratched along the jaw of his sorrel. "It would be most unwise to ignore the signs of Napi. We will tell Trail Walker you will return when the Old Man guides you back."
"We could help you, Two Shadows. The three of us could kill the buffalo skinners and be back to help Trail Walker much faster than one." Horse Racer's voice held an edge of pleading.
"I wish it could be so. There is a reason Napi has chosen this time to send me on this mission. Has he come to you and told you to help me?" Two Shadows paused, searching the faces of his friends. Their sorrowful expressions told him the answer. "Then you must hurry back to help Trail Walker. I promise to return as soon as I can."
"We will take fresh horse
s from the village, then hurry back, as you have said," Horse Racer stated.
"You are good friends. I am glad you understand, as I have no doubts Trail Walker will. It will be strong in my mind and heart to return. It's my belief Giles Rutledge had much to do with the deaths of those women. You can be sure I will return to make him pay."
Mounting, Horse Racer leaned forward. "I cannot help but think you, as well as Trail Walker, will mourn the loss of this Sarah. The pain shows in your eyes."
Two Shadows glanced toward the sunrise. Its beauty didn't lighten his mood. "Be sure, my brother, Trail Walker has lost a daughter, I—my heart." Having spoken the words, Two Shadows surprised even himself.
Without questions, they rode from camp. A grateful Two Shadows watched them disappear around a rugged boulder—leaving him with his thoughts—and quest.
He squared his shoulders, walked over to the Sioux and jabbed him in the chest, waking him. Upon his immediate awakening, he searched his surroundings with a penetrating gaze.
There had to be a reason for his concern. Two Shadows paused, taking a careful look over the entire area. He'd begun to question his own intuition when a patch of white caught his attention.
He stalked toward the object, knife in hand. The closer he got, the more convinced he became. A small body lay hidden beyond the brush. He'd guess a young warrior or possibly one of the Sioux's women had hidden during the attack.
Two Shadows noiselessly approached, then dived over the sprawling shrub, landing on top of the sleeping form. The immediate screams informed him the squirming body could be none other than a woman. She fought like a wildcat. He sat across her stomach, pinning her down. He grabbed her wrists, holding them above her head until she stopped struggling.
Yellow, tangled hair obstructed his view of her face. He fought images of Sarah's golden strands of whispering sun. The woman remained passive for several seconds. He chanced holding her wrists in one hand, allowing him to work on the disheveled mass.
