by Rita Karnopp
Hunger gnawed at her, but she pressed on. Moving, hiding in the limited bushes, moving, then hiding again. Finally she'd reached the boulders across the valley. Already the coolness of evening seeped into the air. The sun began its descent behind the towering mountains against the horizon.
Tired, sore, hungry, and thirsty, Sarah had reached her destination as darkness enveloped her like an ominous cloud. She knew a fire wouldn't be possible, they'd find her right away. She worried about staying warm and safe this first night alone. Every bird flutter, every animal cry, every tree sway became a threatening movement in the dark. Never had she felt this alone, not even in her deafness at the fort. She drew on images of being safe and warm in Two Shadow's arms to keep from crying.
Fears crept into her thoughts. What if another mountain lion came to feast on her? What if a snake came to find warmth in her blanket? What if the Crow Indians found her? She'd welcome any of them over Giles Rutledge's insulting looks and foul breath. His rough, disgusting hands were touching her flesh where Two Shadows had so lovingly touched. No, she would rather die than to be subjected to Giles.
The night refused to let her sleep. Soon she found herself walking in the brisk night air—toward home. It seemed easier walking at night. She didn't have to dodge and hide as she did during the day, and the blistering heat didn't rob her energy. Come morning, she'd find a place to hide and sleep. She'd search for water, fill her canteen, then she'd find food. Feeling weak had to be from the lack of nourishing food. The few, barely ripe gooseberries she'd eaten helped little.
She stopped by an old tree that had shed its dried bark after years of collapse. She rolled a small portion of the old bark back, grabbing several squirming grubs. She tossed them into her mouth and swallowed, washing them down with what remained of the warm water. Once they were down, she gave a great shudder. She'd do what it took to stay alive, and away from Giles.
It took some time, but nearing high-noon, she found a small indenture in the rocky ledge. Two Shadows had shown her how these small caves were homes for nature's pantry. She grabbed several rounded, flat rocks, then snapped them into the opening, as she'd done many times before. She snapped off a stick, then scraped the darkened indenture. She offered a thank you toward the sky, to God, to Napi, it didn't matter. She had a small, brown rabbit that made her stomach growl to look at.
Instinct, a warning from her protector, Napi, she didn't know, caused Sarah to climb into the small indenture with great haste. She pulled several loose tumble weeds across the opening, and held them in place.
The click of horse hooves echoed on the rocks around the cliff edge from her hiding place.
"Shit, Enos. We've got to find the bitch. She couldn't have gone far on foot."
Sarah recognized Giles voice, bitter and angry.
"I's don't see no sign of her, Giles. Twer a surprise the little snip was plannin' on runnin' away."
"You were on guard. You should have seen or heard her leave. Never found a woman yet that could be quiet. You were sleeping, I'm sure of it."
"We'll head down the valley, have a look around and then move east toward Jim and buck. She couldn't have made it even this far on foot. But we'll find her. I won't let her get away. I still have something I want to give her. I won't rest until we find her."
"You supposin' those boys are watchin' for us already?"
"Thought you said your cousin could handle everything."
"He can. Except'in, I hope they don't miss shootin' arrows at those greenhorns and your girlie…and gets me instead. I ain't too keen on the thoughts of gettin' an arrow run clean through my hide."
"Enos, we don't have time worrying about the boys right now. We're losing good time looking for that Indian whore. When we find her I'll teach her a lesson she won't forget. When I'm done with her, she'll wish the Crow had found her, instead of me. You just make sure you keep your guns on those greenhorns. That Buck fellow got the jump on me last time, I'd of killed him, too, but we need him for a spell. Now, let's get moving."
Sarah trembled in her small hiding place. She closed her eyes, imagining what Giles would to do to her. She wasn't going to let Giles catch her!
Sleep conquered. When Sarah woke, early evening had settled on the land. Her stomach gave a sour feeling up her throat. She needed food. Working her way out of the small cave, Sarah took the small rabbit around the ridge. Using a flat, sharp rock, she skinned back the fur, then cut out the largest pieces of meat for herself, tossing the rest for scavengers.
She worked her way back to the small overhang to eat. The first few bites of raw meat caused involuntary gagging, yet she continued to chew and swallow. She forced herself it eat all of the sweet, mushy meat, she had to. She'd wait for night to settle in, then she'd continue her quest for home.
Chapter Twenty
Dirk waited for the General to arrive. Impatiently he paced, then headed for the General's house. He walked across the wooden porch and raised his knuckle to knock—the door opened.
"Come in, quickly," the deep voice said from behind the door.
Dirk entered in several long strides. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dark interior.
"You knock on that door and wake the Missus and you'll hear the biggest raucous of your live," the General said, almost whispering. "Thought you were going to wait with Trail Walker? Come in, follow me," he said, walking toward his office.
Dirk followed, remaining quiet until they were seated. "Your supply wagons are coming today, General. They'll be attacked at Mule Creek Junction, about five miles south of here, around noon. I'll show you the exact place and where their men plan on hiding before the attack."
"How can you do that? Is this an ambush for my men?"
"It's an ambush alright, but not for your men, for the outlaws. You follow-through with this, General, and I guarantee you will learn the truth faster than lightning strikes."
"I can't say why, but I happen to believe you. I'll take fifty men and follow you to this place. There better be at least one man alive to tell me Giles Rutledge is behind all this!"
"You are wrong, General. There better be fourteen men alive to talk. I do not want any of them killed unless it cannot be helped. If we allow them to think they are attacking the supplies, we can surround them before they get a chance to kill a single soldier. They will have to drop their weapons and surrender. We will have them all."
The General stood and rubbed his whiskered chin. "Danged if I don't think you're right. It's a good plan. You said they'll be attacking in about six hours?"
"Yes, General."
He studied a map on the wall behind his desk. "Yump, that's exactly where they'll be in six hours, Mule Creek Junction. I'll be damned! I wouldn't have believed it. Hell, I didn't believe it. Giles Rutledge. Wanted him for my son-in-law. Damn! Nothing with that girl ever works out."
Dirk swallowed hard, determined not to allow his feelings ruin the one chance the people had to catch Giles Rutledge.
"We'd best get the men prepared and ready. It shouldn't take us long to get there."
Dirk hesitated, then said, "I don't think we need fifty men, they make too much noise and rise too much dirt rise with their horses. Ten soldiers should be more than enough. About a half-mile west of the outlaw's attack position is a great place for the men to hide and wait. If we arrive before hand, they won't see or hear us coming."
"I like it. Where'd you get your military strategy training from?" the General asked, staring straight at Dirk.
He glanced away. "Let us say I have learned a lot from the successes and failings of both the white and red man."
"I admit, I'm impressed. Let's hope your plan comes through today. We'll have several posts watching for developments. We're going to get the whole bunch alive and then we'll get to the bottom of this gang. I've waited a long time for this day."
Dirk rose and looked at the man, determined to protect his men. He genuinely cared...but what about his daughter? "I look forward to the
end of these attacks too. The chiefs of the many Blackfeet tribes will deserve an apology from you."
"You don't miss a chance to point out a man's errors, do you?"
"It is not for me to point out any man's errors. It is for a man, himself, to admit he has done wrong. It is also his duty to correct that wrong. I am sure you will do the right thing, General."
He looked at Dirk for an extended time. "You're quite young to have such wisdom. I get the gut feeling you have the insight of a very old Indian. Fact is, you remind me of Trail Walker, as I understand you are friends with. I find you a very interesting man, Dirk Williams. Now isn't the time to figure you out, though. We have a job to do. Best we get at it!"
Relieved, Dirk rose quickly, leading the way out of the stifling house.
* * *
Tense, Sarah woke. She relaxed, realizing a hooting owl had waken her. Crawling from her confined, stony space, she found her muscles sore and stiff.
The bright moon helped Sarah make her way across the demanding terrain with determination.
Her leg ached. The extended use of the muscles near the injury, plus the tension of keeping sure-footed caused incredible pressures on the newly healed leg. Although the color remained healthy, she had doubts whether she could keep up the grueling pace.
She pressed onward throughout the night, elbowing her way through a thorny thicket, only to find herself faced with another, and another. It took much of the night to work her way through the forest barrier of thorns. Exhausted, she forced her body beyond yet another bush, and surprisingly no others barred her way. Exuberant to have made it, she found herself on the edge of a grassy valley. Scanning the shadowy land, Sarah noticed that recent rains had caused considerable flooding. When coming this way, she didn't recall traveling through a flooded valley, nor working their way through a ridge of thorny bushes. She checked the sky, relieved, she still traveled west. Surely she would reach the village soon.
She needed water, plenty lay before her. She pressed forward. The leather on the bottom of her leggings had worn thin, prickly pear thorns had stabbed and re-stabbed every inch of the bottom of her feet. They were raw and bleeding. Her arms, hands and even neck itched and burned from the thorny bushes that stabbed, scratched, and poked her flesh all night long. Most serious became the throbbing of her injured leg. The pain caused her to limp severely. Yet, she forged on.
She'd crossed a good half of the valley without much effort. The plush, green grass felt soothing to her sore feet. She detected the skunk-scented, pink-purple parry primroses.
Having reached the over-flowing stream, at the center of the valley, Sarah drank her fill, then lying in the water, replenished the canteen. Remaining on her stomach, Sarah maneuvered through the grasses and bright yellow golden peas, like a snake. The thick spikes rose inches above her head, allowing her to feel safe in their haven.
This sense of security ended with the cries and hoots of Indians. Sarah wondered if they had already seen her. She prayed they were Blackfeet, yet, from their excited cries, she knew they weren't. Crow. Her worst enemy! No, Giles Rutledge held that position. The Crow came in a close second, she decided quickly. They would need one look at her beaded tunic to know she belonged to the Blackfeet tribe. Would she rather be a Crow slave, than have Giles find her? She had to admit, yes.
She wondered if the Crow knew she lay in the grass. If only she could find a place to hide. Just ahead, Sarah spotted a beaver lodge in the wide section of the creek. Hadn't she read in school about a man, yes, Colten or Colter, who hid from Blackfeet under a pile of driftwood in icy water. Couldn't she then hide from Crow under a beaver lodge in cold water?
The Indians were moving in closer, she had to make her move soon, or be captured. Holding her breath, she ducked under the surface. Cold water pressed against her eyes, she feared they might freeze. Sticks and twigs protruded from the crude structure, poking at her skin.
Deeper and deeper she went until she worked her way under the woven mass, into the center, then rose, gulping for air. She inhaled several long, deep breaths, struggling to remain quiet. Her heart beat hard and fast.
An arrow pierced into the mound, inches from her shoulder, Sarah jumped. Another arrow sliced through, just missing her scalp. Taking another deep breath, she submerged deep into the water, sitting on the bottom of the creek. Several arrows sliced into the water near her. She remained submerged until her lungs burned for air, she surfaced, struggling to breathe without making any gasping sounds.
She noticed the Indians were shouting and talking fast. They laughed often, sounding very young. She didn't understand Crow, but their laughter made her wonder if they were shooting at the beaver lodge in sport. There might be a chance they hadn't seen her at all.
A loud splash made Sarah recoil, then break out in a cold sweat. A new adversary...a beaver...moved into the structure. She pulled her legs up and lodged her feet into the woven sticks above the water. Crouching above the beast, Sarah wondered what she should do next. She'd heard the beaver wasn't an animal to take lightly. She'd seen their pelts, they were huge.
Acutely aware of the Indians still above, she worked a Crow arrow through the woven structure. Like a spear, she raised the weapon, ready to strike if needed. Shiny black eyes surfaced, Sarah jabbed at them with all her strength. Grasping the arrow with both hands, she prepared to lift the heavy beast with all her remaining strength. She gave a mighty pull, then found herself falling backward against the irregular sticks, poking her back unmercifully. She wanted to shout out, but held back, for fear the Crow would hear.
Prepared for the worst, she looked down at the end of the arrow. A wiggling leopard frog kicked in a last effort to free itself from death. She smothered the laughter that threatened to surface. She stared at the oval, black spots on the green kicking form, and shook her head. So this was the great beast that came after her in a beaver lodge. Wait until Two Shadows heard about this. She chuckled under her breath again.
She glanced upward. Silence answered. The Crow had left. Thoughts of Napi came to mind. Did he truly protect her? She couldn't help wondering. Surely someone helped her when things got bad; would Napi protect her from Giles?
Considering her options, she decided to stay the duration of the day right where she was. She looked down at the frog, then decided she had no choice. She twisted a big leg off, slid the slimy, spotted skin from the meat, as if removing stockings, and gnawed at the cold, raw pinkish-white flesh. The meat slid the length of her throat, rose slightly, then dropped back down into her stomach. She took a long drink of water, then took another bite. Forcing thoughts into her mind, other than eating a frog, Sarah managed to finish the entire meal. She refused to allow herself to think about it, doing what had to be done.
She admitted her stomach felt considerably better. She worked herself out of the wet tunic and leggings, then carefully pushed them up into the sticks for the sun and air to dry. Naked, she curled up on the wet blanket, stretched across a stable, sharp, jutting ledge of sticks. Amazingly, she slept deep and hard. Whether Giles or any other men crossed the valley that day, she didn't know.
Now, though, no light filtered into the once slightly lit domain. Sarah shivered from the cold and tucked the now dry blanket around herself.
The darkness consumed her. She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. With no way out except under the water, Sarah knew one of her greatest efforts would soon to be tested. Could she find her way out of the water in such darkness? She shivered, not just from the cold. There wasn't time to think about it, she had to get out fast, dress and hurry toward her village. If all went as she'd planned, by morning she'd see the fires from their tipis. She'd be home. That thought spurred her on.
Sarah pushed the dry blanket up into the mound of sticks. Once she'd made her way out from under the beaver lodge, she'd retrieve her dry belongings from above. With cold, wet clothes and no way to dry them, she'd surely get chilled and become sick. She wouldn't allow that to happen.
Taking a deep breath, not allowing herself time to think about what she planned on doing, Sarah ducked under the water and pushed with her feet. The incredibly cold, icy water washed over her flesh, instantly numbing her skin, yet she allowed herself to sink deeper and deeper until she touched the bottom of the creek, then with her fingertips, she worked her way along the rocky bottom until she no longer felt the presence of the stick structure. Her lungs cried for air, Sarah pulled up, toward the surface.
Breaking through the water, cold night air immediately filled her nostrils and mouth, burning as they entered her body. She didn't waste time thinking about it. She swam to the beaver mound, then climbed on top of it. Darkness cloaked her even above the structure. The night didn't grace her with a guiding lantern.
Working her hands into the sticks, she reached and searched for her dry clothes. Relieved, she felt the blanket with her fingertips. She worked the material through the sticks. After some time and work, she'd managed to retrieve her tunic and leggings. The strong, sturdy buckskin remained intact. She muttered a soft thank you to Otter Woman's fine sewing.
She wrapped herself in the blanket, grabbed up her clothes, the water canteen, and several confiscated Crow arrows. She worked her way off the beaver home and headed across the valley for dry land.
Stepping up on the rocky edge, Sarah paused to dress. She hastily pulled the dress over her shivering form. Tearing several strips off the bottom of the blanket, Sarah wrapped her cut, thorn poked and bruised feet, then pulled on the leggings over her wrapped feet.
All this effort took precious travel time. She pressed on. The cloud-latent night-sky blanketed her world in an eerie darkness. Travel became impaired beyond belief. She tripped and fell more times than she could count. She walked into bushes that unmercifully poked and scratched her body. Yet, she forged on. Time and again she shivered beneath the tightly wrapped blanket, pushing onward, hoping the brisk pace would generate some heat.
