by Rita Karnopp
"Your voice, it sounds normal. I'll be damned, Sarah. You got your hearing back, didn't you?"
"My name is Whispering Sun. Yes, I can hear!"
"Did you get your hearing back before or after you hitched up with that Indian?" he asked, leering at her breasts, pressing against the soft leather.
She lifted her chin, meeting his icy gaze straight on. "What difference does it make? I would choose Two Shadows over any man I know, before or after my deafness. If you are curious, or suspicious I know too much about your, shall we say, comings and goings of my father's study―"
"That will be enough, Sarah!" Giles struggled with his desire to wipe the defiant smile off her face. How could she prefer a filthy Indian? He wanted to be her first man. He wanted to show her his power. Now she was no better than a saloon girl. Even worse, she'd been whoring with an Indian. Several for all he knew.
"You've changed. You sound like an Indian. You look like an Indian, and I'll be damned if you don't even stink like a God-damned Indian!"
She straightened her back, clenched her jaw, then glared back at him. "You don't know what you're talking about, Giles. Any one of these Blackfeet smell better than your God-awful grease and tobacco. Go ahead and insult me all you want, but refrain from degrading a whole race you know nothing about. These people have shown me more love and care than any one white woman or man. So don't you tell me about savages."
"Get her up on a horse, Buck. If I touch her I just might kill her!"
"I'll go with you, but only because you've threatened the lives of the people I love."
"Get her on a horse!" Giles shouted.
"Come on, Sarah," Buck said, leading her to a white pony. "You look wonderful! I never thought I'd see you again."
"It's good to see you, too, Buck. But, as I told Giles, I do not wish to leave. I am happy here. I want to stay. I want you to leave without me. Tell them I wanted to stay, or tell them I'm dead. I don't care what you tell them. Just leave me here," she said, grabbing his arm, pleading with her eyes. "Please, Buck." She watched his expression change to one of disbelief.
"You can't be serious, Sarah. We've traveled for days to get you. You don't belong here, you're a white woman. They've frightened you into believing you have to stay. But you don't. We are here to take you home!"
"Buck," she squeezed his arm again, drawing him closer. "I do belong here. I know it's hard for you to understand. I don't want to go back to Fort Bryson. I have a husband here and a new life." His face betrayed revulsion at her words. It hurt to see his reaction.
"Keep this information to yourself, Sarah. You will wish you never spoke of it. I'm sure once you're back home, you'll be glad you didn't stay..."
"Whispering Sun! Whispering Sun! Don't go! Please don't go!"
Sarah turned to find a tear-filled Little Arrow running toward her. He rushed into her arms and held on with an iron-grip hold. "Shhh. You must not grieve so. I am doing what I must. These men are from my camp. They have come to take me to my white people."
"I do not understand. You belong here. You are special, even Many Pipes says so. The Great Spirit will not let these men take you away. Please, do not go with them."
She opened her mouth to speak, but gasped as she felt the boy being roughly torn from her arms. She watched in horror as Giles tossed Little Arrow into the air, away from her. She watched him get to his feet, knife ready in his small hand.
"You, bad white man. Whispering Sun stay!" Little Arrow said, feet spread, jaw set.
She noted Giles's laugh came forth cold and challenging. She drew in a breath, watching Giles's tense body step forward. In a quick jab, he snapped his fist into the young warrior's nose. The sound of crunching bones made Whispering Sun cringe. She had no doubt the young boy's nose had been broken. Blood streamed from both nostrils. Giles reached down, gripping Little Arrow's neck, lifting him to his feet.
She dove at Giles, sinking her teeth into his arm, biting with a vengeance.
Giles released Little Arrow, grabbed Sarah by the back of her neck, pinching until she let his arm go. "Damn bitch! You'll pay for biting me!"
She looked at him, staring, unafraid, unmoved, hatred filled her being. The taste of his blood sickened her, yet she'd do it again, if she had to. She took his fist on the right cheek, it sent her reeling to the ground. "I see you've become an even bigger man since I've last seen you. You publicly show your abuse, instead of hiding behind closed doors as you use to."
Buck rushed to her side, helping her up. "Touch her again and I'll flatten you, Giles. You have no right to treat a lady like this."
"A white woman who willingly sleeps with an Indian can hardly be called a lady. Get on your horse, Sarah. We are leaving. I won't forget this," he said, wrapping his neck scarf around the wound. He mounted his horse and looked down at them. "Let's get out of this stinking place. You give me any more trouble, I'll start shooting, beginning with that bleeding kid!"
Whispering Sun rushed to the white pony, allowing Buck to help her shaking form into the saddle. She slid her feet into the stirrups, finding her injured leg already hurt from the position. She couldn't help giving Giles a cold look of triumph.
They rode through the village. Whispering Sun observed the people gathering in front of their tipis, many waved, other nodded. She noted their solemn expressions, even tears. They stood silent, yet respect spoke loud. She held her head high and proud, tears slipped down her cheeks, she continued on.
At the village edge they approached a poorly kept tipi. A filthy-looking white man hastily emerged from the structure, hoisting his trousers up. He mounted his horse as Buffalo Woman and Laughing Eyes emerged, openly displaying expressions of conquest.
"Damn you, Enos. Couldn't wait?"
"Was worth it. She's as good as she looks. Coulda done her all day and all night. She didn't wanta quit. Knows her men. Tried takin' her along. Her mama wouldn't let the girl go lessen I took her, too. Damn! Be some time 'for I gets me anythin' good as―"
"Shut up, Enos. Let's get ridding. We're in trouble if they get wind of us too soon."
Giles picked up the pace, they raced across the valley. Sarah felt sick inside. She ached for Two Shadows to come rushing in from any direction to save her.
Two Shadows! Why hadn't she thought about it sooner. Two Shadows, Horse Racer and He Who Listens had already gone ahead to Fort Bryson. Relief rushed through her. She'd return with Two Shadows. No, she wouldn't be able to do that. A heavy feeling engulfed her. He wouldn't want her after Giles got through with her.
They rode all day, stopping only when necessary. Watering the horses, then back at hard riding again. She stayed close to Buck, hoping Giles would keep a distance if she did. Her leg ached and even burned. The limb had stiffened from the harsh, continuous riding. Already she missed the smell of Otter Woman's stew and the happy singing of Willow Basket.
"We'll camp here for the night. Enos you take the first watch, Jim next, then you, Buck." Giles gave the orders in a hushed tone. "You, squaw woman, gather up some wood and make a fire. When I return with game you'd better be ready to clean and cook it. I'm sure you're used to that. I'll bet you make a good squaw, by the cook fire and the bed. Oops, they don't have beds, you like rollin' on the ground. Don't you?"
Sarah wanted nothing more than to be left alone. She glared at him. His comments were crude and embarrassing. "Leave me alone, Giles."
"Did your Indian leave you alone?"
She watched his gaze travel the length of her. She felt dirty by the way he leered and openly lusted. She hated this man enough to kill him herself. He seemed to enjoy making her uneasy. She'd outsmart him. She'd ignore his comments and looks. First chance she got, she'd escape. She'd go back toward the village and hide. When the men returned to camp, she'd go to them for help. She'd love to see what the Blackfeet would do to Giles Rutledge. Her decision gave her renewed strength.
Sarah worked her way into the thick bushes, took care of nature, then hurried back toward Buck's protec
tion. A snapped twig behind her warned too late. A harsh hand moved over her mouth, while she felt another grip her hard and firm against a chest. One whiff of grease and tobacco told Sarah Giles Rutledge had made his move.
"Suppose you squaws wear nothing under them soft buckskins, huh? Suits my needs real well."
She struggled, pressing against him, twisting to break free. His foul breath soured her stomach. His swollen manhood pressed against her leg, fear filled her.
Falling to the ground hard, he turned her onto her back, keeping his tight grip across her mouth. His weight pressed into her. "I'll show you how having a white man is better than a heathen redskin. You'll learn to like it, even beg me for it. This is going to be a very rewarding trip back to the fort."
She found his snickering as disgusting as his closeness. She pressed against him, twisting her face back and forth. She would fight him. She wouldn't make this easy for him. She felt her dress being inched up, she pressed her buttock into the ground, hoping to keep the material from moving.
She felt his impatience mount. He released his grip on her mouth and yanked at the buckskin. Sarah screamed out, loud and piecing, filling the night with a shrill cry for help.
He slapped her mouth hard, the sting reached her swollen cheek. "Won't do you no good. You're getting what you deserve."
Sarah closed her eyes, hating to see any shadow of the man. Once he took her, she knew she'd never be with Two Shadows again. Her life would be over.
The pressure of Giles heavy body suddenly left. She looked up to find him being hauled away by Buck. She watched him slam a fist first into Giles's face, then stomach. She self-consciously grabbed at her dress, covering her exposed limbs.
"Don't ever try that with Sarah again. Next time I'll kill you," Buck's words came low and threatening.
"This has nothing to do with you, Anders. I have a score to settle with this squaw and you'd better stay out of it. It's been comin' on for some time. Step aside and get back to camp," Giles ordered.
"I'll be damned if I will. We came to rescue Sarah from the Indians. Promised to bring her back to her father. What do you suppose General Bryson will say when he find out you raped his daughter? Jim and I won't stand by and let you do this. Don't ever try it again."
"Shit, Buck. She's been layin' with a damn Indian. I don't think that deserves any respect. I just wanted to show her what it's like to bed down with a white man. Figure if I'm marrying the whore, I got a right to do that!"
Sarah watched Buck slam another fist into Giles's face, connecting with the man's jaw.
"Nothing that has happened to Sarah is her fault. She deserves as much respect now as she did before she got taken by those Indians. Don't touch her again, that's all I'm saying."
Giles walked past Buck, then stared down at her. She read the hatred and fury that blazed in his eyes.
"You Indian lovers just don't understand. Just watch and see who'll want her now. I changed my mind, don't figure on marrying her either. Sorry, love, engagements off!" He spat on the ground near Sarah, then twirled around, stomping back to camp.
"I'm sorry, Sarah. I know you've been through a lot. I'm afraid there'll be a lot more people who think like Giles. They're wrong. You did nothing to be ashamed of. You survived and I admire you for that," Buck said, reaching down and helping her up.
"Thank you, Buck. I hate him! Why can't he just leave me alone?" She allowed Buck to pull her against him. She needed the comfort and support. Giles's attack shook her more than she expected. "Buck, I don't want to go back to Fort Bryson. It was bad before I left, it will be worse this time. I belong with my Blackfeet people. They understand me and I love them." Clouds rolled in front of the moon, suddenly cloaking them in complete darkness.
"I know you believe that right now, Sarah. You've been through a lot. But, once you're back and things settle down, you'll realize I was right. You don't belong with the Indians."
"I know you mean well, Buck, but you're wrong. I love my people." A tear rolled the length of her cheek, then settled at the corner of her mouth. Sarah touched it with the tip of her tongue, it tasted salty.
"I've been meanin' to tell you I'm glad you got your hearing back. You'll have to tell me all about it, but later. I know you're tired and need your rest."
He led the way back to camp, then stopped, turning her toward him, he said, "Sarah, do you think you could ever love me?"
She placed a hand against his stubble cheek. "I'm sorry, Buck. I do care about you, but not in the way you want me to. I think of you as my friend. My heart belongs to another, always will."
He pressed his hand across hers. "I guess I could settle for that, Sarah. You might learn to love me, just a little. Think on it. You might feel different after you've been back for awhile. Will you think on it, Sarah?"
She needed his protection, and although she knew the answer had to be no, she nodded. A deep sense of guilt and betrayal filled her. As a Blackfeet she would have been brutally honest. Now, a white woman, she found herself willing to lie for a price; Buck's protection.
Two Shadows had been right. Being a white man, behavior could always be justified when it suited one's needs.
Sarah followed Buck into camp. No fire blazed, no rabbit cooked. Giles Rutledge sat with his back against a fallen stump, his blanket held to his chin. She shuddered just seeing his image. She welcomed Buck's protective arm. He wrapped a blanket about her shoulder, then guided her across camp. He leaned up against his saddle, patted the ground next to him, offering a place beside him. She settled her back against Buck, allowing him to pull her into the warmth of his arms. She closed her eyes, praying he offered protection, expecting nothing in return.
She woke, the night's stillness spoke out to her. Buck's arm draped across her waist. She inched from his side, easing his arm to the ground. She held still, waiting for his light snore. He turned, adjusting his head on the saddle. She breathed with relief. Pulling her blanket around her shoulders, Sarah rose to her knees, then stood. Giles sleeping form remained against the log. Jim slept in a tight ball, near a tree. Enos would be her adversary. He had watch, but where he kept point, she had no idea.
Giles would not let Buck get the upper hand next time, of that she was certain. She didn't want him getting killed because of her. She'd rather die than to let Giles get near her again.
There were several hours before the sun would start rising. Either she ran now, or she might never get another chance. Pulling the blanket tight around her shoulders, Sarah took a final check for possible movement from the camp. Everything remained still. She picked up the water canteen, then walked, slow and deliberately from camp. Not a twig snapped beneath her soft moccasins.
Once far enough away from the others, Sarah ran. She ran as fast as her sore leg would allow, then more. When she could no long grasp a breath, nor take a step, she allowed herself to stop. She sat on a rock, gasping, waiting for her breathing to slow, for the pain in her chest and side to ease. Her ears ached from the cool morning breeze, she shivered under the tightly held blanket, in spite of the sweaty feeling from running.
She scanned the area around her, hoping to have some idea where she was. A natural sense of direction wasn't a talent she possessed. Studying the mountain lined horizon, she realized she'd spotted the first rays of the early morning, east. She couldn't help feeling relieved that she'd run west, the direction she needed to go. Napi must have guided her home. They wouldn't catch her, she'd see to that. She'd rather die than to let Giles Rutledge catch her again!
For all the determination she felt in her heart, Sarah had as many doubts in her mind. They had horses, an excellent tracker, and food. Even Buck and Jim would try to bring her back, they thought it was the right thing to do. How wrong could they be?
Sarah got to her feet, then pressed westward at a brisk pace, ignoring the pain in her leg. She pushed herself, step after step. Once the heat settled in, she rolled and tied the blanket with her dress waist tie, looping it over her shoulder. The
growing heat took its toll, slowing her pace. The beautiful, wedding dress clung to her sweaty body. Hunger gnawed at her stomach. She pushed on. Already she could hear the quivering call of Otter Woman. Nothing would stop her now.
From a high vantage point, Sarah stopped and gazed at the intimidating terrain before her. Shrub infested rolling hills graced both sides of a fast moving stream. Pines towered across the distant mountains, casting a blue hue. Off to the right several boulders jutted to the sky while beyond their majestic impressions a valley spread for at least a quarter of a mile across. This valley would be her greatest adversary. She'd have to cross it without being spotted. It offered no coverage, save tall grass, and from above it camouflaged nothing.
Moving down the slope, she slid passed orange-red Indian Paintbrush, striking in contrast to the bluish-gray sagebrush that sprouted on the more desolate hillsides and valleys.
A hawk screeched, swooped to the ground and rose with a snake dangling from its deadly claws. The action reminded Sarah she had to press onward.
After a small swallow of water, she inched her way down the steepest part of the ridge. The wax current bushes tore at her flesh, she pressed past them with abandon. Reaching a flat rock, Sarah paused to scan the slope, then down at her destination. She'd have to hurry if she wanted to make it to the boulders across the valley without being spotted.
The steep incline proved more treacherous than Sarah ever imagined. She had to grasp onto thorny Squaw bushes to slow her descent. Thorns broke away from the bushes, embedding into her tender flesh. Her fingers felt sticky, upon closer examination she realized they were covered with blood; her blood.
Her ankles ached from digging her feet sideways into the earth to break the downward momentum. Her leg throbbed from the excessive pressure and punishment she'd forced them to do. Continually she stretched her neck upward, checking along the upper ridge, searching for any signs that the men had caught up with her.
The day stretched on, as did the distance toward the massive rocks. She fought the urge to drink the dwindling water supply, her parched lips cried for moisture. The heat of the day steamed up from the ground, the sun's rays robbed her energy with each agonizing step.
