by Rita Karnopp
"Oh, yes, Mother. I understand because I can hear you. I want you to hear something, too. I did not ask to come back here. They forced me to. I would rather live in a tipi with the Blackfeet, than live in this cold, unwelcome house with you. The Blackfeet showed me more love and kindness in the short time I was with them, than I've seen my whole life here. They deserve my respect. You don't even deserve the title Mother!"
Unprepared for the forceful slap that landed loud and sharp across her cheek, Sarah winced. It left the two women staring at each other, silent.
Rachel drew in a breath, then spoke. "I'll have someone bring up water for your bath. Expect a change of clothes. Wear them. We are expecting honored guests for dinner tonight. You will be present and dressed appropriately." She turned and hastily made her way down the hall. She stopped short, then said, "I'm glad you got your hearing back, Sarah."
She watched her mother escape—a familiar loneliness set in. Sarah entered the cold, unfamiliar room. She walked to a high-backed chair and sat on the hard cushion. Sarah closed her eyes and tried imagining the dogs running and barking around the camp. She imagined the crickets, the children laughing and crying throughout the village. She imagined hearing the voices of the old women telling stories and the young women gossiping while they worked. She imagined staring out the smoke flap at the sparking sky, thinking she could hear the stars speaking to her. They had warned her, she hadn't listened. Look where it had gotten her.
Opening her eyes, Sarah stared at the high bed, nearly laughing at how ridiculous it looked above the ground. She wondered what it would be like to make love to Two Shadows on such a bed. Color warmed her cheeks at the thought.
* * *
Sarah struggled into the many layers of lacy underclothes, then finally the tight fitting dress with its indecent neckline. The blue satin dress her mother chose had too much material on the bottom and too little on top. She hated her mother's frilly dresses, this one in particular.
It took Mrs. Kendall nearly an hour to fix her hair in a curly, frilly style that Sarah hated. She felt like one of the dolls that had been on her shelf.
A soft knock, then a quick open and close of her door, caused Sarah to look up. "Melody!" Sarah called out, rushing to give her a warm hug.
"Oh, Sarah! It's so good to see you," she cried, hugging back. "I've thought of you every day since we parted. I thought you'd be dead by now."
"Let me look at you," Sarah said, putting an arm's length between them. "You look wonderful! Not a day has passed that I hadn't wondered if you made it back safely. Wondering if I'd done the right thing by sending you away, all by yourself. I tried not to think of all the things that could have happened to you."
"I'm not supposed to be here. My mother has forbidden me to talk to you. But I had to come. I had to tell you all that has happened and also explain a few things that you need to know. I'm hoping you'll understand and won't hate me when I'm done," she looked away, wringing her hands.
"Come, sit and tell me everything," Sarah grabbed Melody's hand, pulling her toward the bed.
Melody followed, looking around the room. "What happened to all the shelves of beautiful dolls and toys that used to be everywhere?"
"My mother removed them all. She thought I was dead and got rid of everything that belonged to me. She sure didn't waste any time, did she?" Sarah noticed a momentary look of discomfort cross Melody's features.
"I'm sorry. It's probably my fault, yet she could have waited until Giles, Buck and Jim returned to be sure."
"Let's not waste time talking about my mother. Tell me about you."
"I told everyone René and I got married. Please, Sarah, don't tell them it's not true. I am going to have René's child. I didn't know what else to do. They know nothing about the wagons of women or what we've been through. I told them I ran off with René' and got married. That you begged for us to take you away with us, and we did. That the Sioux attacked us on our way westward. I told everyone how the Indians thought you were special because of your voice and your yellow hair. Then I told them they'd stabbed you by mistake and wanted to make thing right with the Great Spirit so they let me go. I never thought I'd see you again. You told me to tell everyone that you were dead—and I did."
"Sounds to me like you told the truth. The only truth this gossiping fort needs to hear. I'm glad you thought ahead to protect yourself and your baby. Don't fret, Melody. I am your friend, I won't ever say anything that will hurt you or your child."
"Thank you, Sarah. I knew you'd understand. I wish my mother wasn't being so stubborn about my visiting you. We had a big argument earlier today. She insisted I stay clear of you and I told her I was a grown woman with a right to make up my own mind. Of course, you can imagine how she felt about that. I don't care what she says, Sarah. I'll sneak over to see you as often as I can—if you want me to."
Sarah reached over and pulled Melody's shaking hands into hers. "I need a friend. It won't surprise me if the good people decide to drive my filthy butt out of this respectable fort. Things are worse now than before I left."
"I think you're right. The gossip will slow down, Sarah. In time they'll forget you lived with the Indians. At least you're back and don't have to live with those heathens anymore."
Sarah swallowed hard. She appreciated Melody's friendship, but it wasn't easy to keep from slapping the girl for her comment.
A knock on the door made both girls jump to their feet.
"Sarah, the General says it's time for you to come to dinner. They've been waiting, so you better come now."
She recognized the housekeeper's voice. "Thank you, Ruth. I'll be right down," Sarah said, pulling hard to raise the bodice of her dress.
"You go on ahead, Sarah. I'll sneak down after you join your dinner party. I saw that man who caught Giles. Lord, he is one handsome fellow. I would just die if I sat across him at the table. You're so lucky, Sarah. If he looked at me, I think I'd faint dead away."
Sarah giggled behind her hand as Melody rolled her eyes in mock swooning. "Hush. I'd better get down there before Father becomes angry. Thank you for coming to see me. I hope you can sneak away again soon," Sarah said, squeezing Melody's shoulder with the palm of her hand, then rushing from the room.
* * *
Dirk sat stiff and awkward at the elegant dinner table. He wondered why he'd allowed himself to be talked into attending dinner, the guest of honor for that matter. He glanced out the double doorway, then paused. A movement on the stairs caught his attention. He watched as his Sarah descended, then moved toward the table. Her shimmering hair bounded and moved about her like a yellow, satin, waterfall. He wanted to turn away, proving she didn't interest him, but he found himself mesmerized by her beauty. Every inch of her spoke of softness and called out, inviting his appraisal.
She moved with a touch of grace he hadn't noticed before. She sat down across the table from him before he realized she'd done so.
"Damn hard to refrain from gawking, isn't it?" the General's loud voice asked.
Dirk looked up, finding the man staring at him. "Sorry, sir, didn't mean to be disrespectful. She took me quite by surprise."
"Don't suppose the word respectful fits where Sarah's concerned, dear boy. Just the way things are."
"Excuse me for saying so, sir, but I find your comment offensive. She is your daughter and...well...if you make comments like that...well, I just don't think it should be allowed. Sarah has done nothing to be ashamed of. She deserves your respect as well as ours."
"Well said, Buck, old boy! Quite smitten with the girl, are you? Tell me lad, is there something a father should know about, concerning you and my daughter? After all, you did spend the past two weeks together, didn't you?"
Sarah felt Buck tense, but refused to look at either man. She held her head erect, looking just past Dirk's right ear.
"I resent that implication. Your daughter conducted herself like the lady she is. I find your comments in poor taste, sir. In order to save Sarah from fu
rther embarrassment, I request to be excused, sir," Buck, stood, folding his napkin.
"Request denied, Buck. Sit down, relax, and stop taking offense to everything. If Sarah finds my words distasteful she'll speak up. Be assured she has a tongue sharper than mine!"
Sarah refused to be baited. She remained still, offering no comment or response.
Raising his wine glass, the General said, "I'd like to make a toast to our honored guest tonight. I compliment you, young man, on your brilliant plan to capture this traitor of the cavalry. This is indeed a relief. You have saved many lives. I extend to you our sincere gratitude, Dirk Williams."
Sarah drew in a breath, then glanced sideways at her father. She looked the length of the table and noticed everyone raised their drinks toward Dirk. At least twenty of the fort's most upstanding men and women drank to his honor.
She settled her gaze on the man she loved, her husband. But she saw little of the man, Two Shadows. Before her sat Dirk, the white side of the man she loved. She glanced away, afraid Dirk's eyes wouldn't speak of love, as Two Shadow's did.
"General, perhaps this isn't the proper time, but in thinking over your hurtful words regarding your daughter, I feel I must inform you of my intentions."
Sarah tensed, turned to look at the young man sitting next to her. He'd slid his arm across the back of her chair, indicating possession and it angered her. "Buck, I think you'd better consider what I told you earlier today. Please don't do this."
"I'm sorry, love, but I can't continue to listen to the accusations of your father and the people around the fort. In your best interest, and mine, I don't want to wait. You can be angry with me now, but you'll thank me later."
"Don't be absurd, Buck. You know how I feel."
"And I accept every word you've said. General, sir, I wish to marry your daughter. If you grant us your blessing, we'll marry in the morning. In two days time we'll be leaving Fort Bryson, to my new post in Boston."
"Damn best proposition I've had all day! You have my blessings, Buck Anderson. Damn! If that don't beat all. Never had it figured, son. She's a wildcat to be sure. I'd never have expected a refined man as yourself to be able to tame her. Amazing what a couple weeks out in the wilderness can do for a man."
Sir, I―"
"I know, Anderson. You resent my implications. Hell, forget my implications. You've made me a happy man. This calls for a toast," her father called out, raising his glass once again.
Sarah stared at Buck, speechless. She glanced over at Dirk, horrified to think he'd believe this preposterous arrangement. The chair was empty! He'd left without a word. When? Gazing around she searched the room, hoping to find him lurking nearby. He wasn't.
She rose, bumping the table, causing the china to rattle in place. "I have not consented to this mockery. I can't and I won't marry you Buck! I've tried to tell you that."
"But, Sarah, you can't stay here the way things are. Besides, I love you!"
"You aren't listening to me! I can't marry you, Buck, I'm already married!" She bolted from the room, aware of the rising whispers from those she left behind.
She rushed up the stair, stumbling over the ridiculous refinery that clung to her legs. She entered her room—the room that spoke of no warmth or welcome—then slammed the door behind her. Clenching her jaw, she thought about her father's cutting words, then grabbed the tight, revealing bodice of her dress and yanked hard, splitting it open to the waist.
Sarah thought over Buck's possessive, controlling words, then set forth tearing at what remained of the dress. No man would control her life. No man would speak for her, without her permission. No man would take it upon himself and decide her future—because he felt it was best.
Fury swarmed around her like an angry bee's hive. She tore at the lace, at the buttons, at the ties, removing the layers of white woman's clothes until she stood naked.
Reaching behind the large oak armoire, Sarah retrieved her wedding dress and worn moccasins from the hiding place. She pulled and tugged at her curled, tied and pinned hair, brushing it with a vengeance, until it hung loose, as Two Shadows liked it. She grabbed a handful of hair from her forehead, then tied it back with the wing bone. She lowered her necklace over her breasts, knowing Two Shadows loved her. She stopped, catching her breath, doubts filled her thoughts. What did Dirk Williams feel? She would soon find out.
Not wanting to confront any of the guests, especially not Buck, Sarah inched her way down the stairs.
"Oh, don't worry about it, son."
She recognized her father's booming voice.
"She'll have a good cry and think it over. By morning she'll be apologizing all over the place. Sarah may be head-strong, but she's no fool. She will realize you are just what she needs. Now drink up, Buck. You might consider this your last party as a single man."
"Hear, hear!"
Sarah couldn't believe her ears. They were celebrating her up-coming marriage to Buck—even without her. Sarah worked her way to the front door, the house seemed to try and swallow her up in its hot, domineering existence. Lifting the intricate latch, laughter from the dining room rose in unison. She wondered what her father said to be so richly rewarded—surely it must have been a crude Indian remark.
She slipped outside, immediately drawing the fresh night air into her lungs. Already she felt a sense of freedom. Staying in the shadows, she hurried along the row of trees, heading for Trail Walker's cot. He'd be able to help her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two Shadows longed to feel every inch of Whispering Sun's satiny skin with the palms of his hands. He longed to feel her warm body fit perfectly into the curves of his own. He longed to hear her sweet laughter and see her inviting smile. He missed watching her blue eyes change colors and sparkled with happiness. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, to brush it until it shone like golden sun between his fingertips. He even loved her ticklish short, stubby toes that she wouldn't allow him to touch.
"Two Shadows? Have you been listening to me?" Trail Walker asked, impatient with his traveling companion.
"What?"
"I said, once you get me to the camp of Horse Racer and He Who Listens, you must go back and get her."
"I will not. She has chosen a white man and the white man ways. I did not leave her. She left me."
Trail Walker shook his head. "You drag your heart on the ground for two days. You hear nothing of what I say to you. I know you love Whispering Sun. Why let her go without a fight? Did your woman tell you she no longer wanted you for her husband? Did you ask her why she wants to be married to Buck and not you?"
Two Shadows adjusted the straps on Trail Walker's travois. "A man does not ask his wife why she no longer wishes to be married to him. What kind of fool do you think I am? It is obvious that she loves this man, Buck. She could not look me in the eyes. She looked past me as though I had died." Two Shadows rubbed his aching forehead. "Camp is just ahead. You can rest for a while, then we will go home. Never will I return to the land of the white man. Never will I use the name Dirk Williams again. I am Blackfeet. I will remain one shadow for as long as I live."
"You speak like a man who hides from his own shadow. Run away like a little boy if you must. You will be unhappy. Only when we face the problem, can we solve it. Go back and talk to Whispering Sun."
"She is Whispering Sun no longer. She is Sarah. By now she is wife of another. When the sun rises on a new day she will be gone from this land. He is taking her to a place called Boston. We will never see her again."
"I had much to tell her. I did not get a chance to tell my daughter goodbye. It saddens me to think she is alive, yet dead to me. I wanted to tell her I loved her."
"I'm sorry, Trail Walker. I didn't mean to keep you from Whispering...Sarah. I know she will feel the same about not seeing you. She spoke of you all the time. She loved you as much as you loved her."
"Take me back to see her. If you will not go back and speak with her, take me back so I can see her one last
time."
"It is too late, Trail Walker. We have traveled two days. It will take us two days to return. She will be gone in one." Two Shadows turned his back to the old man. "She is dead to me. Whispering Sun has died." He dropped to his knees. Misery and a sense of loss engulfed him. He missed her. His heart ached to see her—just one more time. He stretched his face to the sun. "Nat'-o'-ye wo'-ka'hit! It-sis-oks-is-taki," he cried out his prayer to Napi. He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. Two Shadows closed his eyes and struggled to convince himself his wife, Whispering Sun, would no longer come to him. "Nat'-o'-ye wo'-ka'hit! It-sis-oks-is-taki," he sang out again.
"You do not sound like a man who cries out for the dead. You ask Napi to tell the one with the power of the sun to listen to you, to hear your heart? I do not think you can tell your heart Whispering Sun is gone."
Two Shadows felt drained. "I cannot. I will take you the short distance to the camp of my friends. I will borrow a horse and ride back to her. If she is still there, I will ask her to be my white wife. I do not want to be a white man for all time. But I would rather be Dirk Williams and live with Sarah, than be Two Shadows without Whispering Sun."
* * *
Whispering Sun kept a safe distance from Trail Walker and Two Shadows. She followed, drawing on their direction and safety, if need be. She wouldn't let them know she existed until they'd gone too far to send her back. If Two Shadows didn't want her, would she still be welcome at the village? She never wanted to leave the village again.
Two days she trailed behind, fearful they'd see her, fearful they'd send her back. For two days she yearned to be in Two Shadows' arms. She yearned for his teasing ways. She yearned for the warmth of his loving touch. She yearned to fit her body in the curve of his and feel his protection. She yearned for the scent of his earthy cinnamon and touch of pine.
