Chase the Wind

by Cindy Holby - Wind 01 - Chase the Wind

  Jenny stepped closer, trying to determine if he was truly awake or perhaps caught up in a continuing nightmare from his attack.

  “Your mother is already with your father,” she said as she took another step closer to him. She caught a flash of silver in his eyes as he looked at her, a spark of some kindred understanding. “She was with him as soon as her spirit left her body,” she said.

  “How can you know this?”

  Jenny stepped closer until she was standing right in front of him, and had to tilt her head up to see his face. She realized that he was the only person besides Jamie who was taller than she. “I know this because my father saw my mother’s spirit waiting for him when he was dying. He told me that she was waiting for him to join her, and his spirit left his body so he could be with her.”

  “He told you this when he was dying?”

  Jenny nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying at the memory of that awful day. She looked up into the dark eyes, which were suddenly filled with relief and gratitude, and saw the tense lines around the eyes fade. Suddenly he lost his balance, and tightened his grip on the bed frame. Jenny threw her arms around his waist, supporting him until he was able to back around and sit on the bed. She felt him trembling as he lowered himself, trying to keep the splinted leg from taking any of his weight. She waited until his body relaxed before she took her arms away. His own arm had become tangled in her hip-length hair, and as he tried to disentangle it, the ends flew up in all directions, still full of static from the brushing she had given it. Jenny finally just pulled it away with her hands, but some of it floated towards his arm, as if it didn’t want to be separated from him. Jenny quickly smoothed it down, then tied a knot in the whole mass and flipped it over her shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” she asked him when she finally felt that she had everything under control. He nodded. He seemed so weary he couldn’t even speak. “Lie back and I’ll fix your leg again,” she instructed. He did as he was told, and Jenny gently placed his leg in the brace and pulled it back up into traction. He watched her with his dark eyes, followed her with them as she went to her own bed. She bundled up into a ball once she was under the blankets, tucking her feet up into the tail of her gown. “Are you cold?” she asked.

  “I’m used to it.”

  “Good night”

  “Jenny?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Sister Mary Frances returned to find both of them asleep. She placed extra blankets on both beds before she retired to her own small chamber. Outside, the wind continued to beat against the windows, and the snow piled up, drifting where the wind blew it until there was barely a dusting in some areas and the drifts were waist-high in others. Those travelers that had taken advantage of the few warm days just past regretted their foolishness as they looked for shelter from the elements. Those lucky enough to be inside snuggled deeper under their blankets and came closer to their fires, grateful for the comfort of those simple blessings.

  Jenny was dreaming. She knew she had to be because she saw her mother and father. The weather was warm, the sky blue, and she was in the middle of a beautiful pond, swimming without a stitch of clothing on. On the bank she could see Jamie, Sister Mary Frances, Marcus, Mary and Chase the Wind, all enjoying what seemed to be a picnic. They were all smiling, and occasionally one of them would wave to her. Above them in the branches of a tree sat her parents. They were happy, wrapped in each other’s arms and looking down on the group below. They looked over at Jenny and waved to her, and Jenny waved back. She felt her arm move against the weight of the water, but she couldn’t lift it up where they could see it. Her father began to motion for her to come to shore, and Jamie stood up and waved for her to come in. She started to swim towards them, but something held her back. She felt as if her hair was snagged on something. She turned and saw Logan and Joe both holding on to long tendrils of her hair, and they were laughing at her. She pulled her hair away from their and turned to go in to shore, but before she could move, her was shoved under. She fought her way to the surface, and tried to draw a breath, but before she could, she was pushed under again. She reached her hands up and felt a hand on her head, holding her down as she struggled in the water. Her hair was floating all around her and she fought against it, pulling it out of her eyes as she tried to surface. Above her she could see where the water ended and the air began, but it was just out of her reach. Her fingertips just broke the surface, sending ripples in all directions. She could still see everyone on the shore, standing now, looking down at her, telling her to come in, to quit fooling around, they were waiting for her. She tried to scream for help, but all that came out of her mouth was a trail of bubbles that skipped to the surface and exploded, each one carrying the sound of the different voices on the shore. The hand holding her would not let go, and she felt her lungs burn, desperate for air. She knew she had just seconds left, and she fought with all her might against the pressure on top of her head.

  Jenny woke with a start, drawing air in with a hoarse gasp as she sat up in bed. Father Clarence was standing before her, peering at her over his half glasses as he leaned heavily on a stout stick that had been polished to a high sheen.

  “You seem to have recovered from your injuries,” he said. He raised the stick and began to poke at the mattress where her feet had been. “It will do you no good to hide from me. I can feel your evil all around this place.”

  Jenny retreated against the headboard of the bed and searched the area for a weapon. She remembered well the damage the broomstick had done; there was no doubt in her mind that the stout stick he now carried was more dangerous. Behind the priest, Chase the Wind was sitting up, his hands braced around the upper thigh of his broken leg to swing it out of traction if need be. His eyes narrowed at the back of Father Clarence’s head as the priest continued to poke at the mattress, coming closer and closer to Jenny’s retreating feet. There was a pitcher of water on the bedside table, and Chase the Wind reached out and sent it flying to the floor with a crash, drawing the attention of Father Clarence.

  “I knew I never should have allowed that heathen in here. They don’t know how to act in civilization,” the priest said to Jenny.

  Sister Mary Frances came rushing in, pulling a robe around her gown, her short hair spiked out in all directions.

  “Sister!” he exclaimed. “You are not properly dressed.”

  The nun smoothed her hand over her hair as she quickly took in the situation. “It’s the middle of the night, Father. I thought perhaps there was an emergency and my patient needed some assistance.”

  “Except for being incredibly clumsy, he seems to be all right,” the priest said, waving his cane in the direction of Chase the Wind. The nun began to pick up pieces of the pitcher from the floor.

  “Was there something you needed, Father, that brought you to the infirmary at this time of night?” she asked as she carefully placed the shards in what was left of the pitcher. She looked at Jenny as she talked, and Jenny silently made her way down to the foot of her bed, where she could leap through the door if need be.

  “I came to check on our new resident. The sheriff left him in my care, and I realized I don’t even know what his name is.”

  “His name is Chase the Wind. He is part Kiowa Indian,” the nun replied. Finished with the pitcher, she rose, taking a position between the two beds. Father Clarence stuck his cane out in the direction of Chase the Wind’s bed.

  “I know he is a heathen, that much is obvious.” Chase the Wind jerked his head, his eyes narrowing again. “We shall have to save his soul and baptize him with a Christian name. I will not have any heathens in residence here.”

  “I plan to leave as soon as possible,” Chase the Wind ground out between clenched teeth.

  Father Clarence poked at the youth’s bed with the cane. “How old are you, boy?”

  “I have just passed my seventeenth winter,” came the answer.

  Father Clarence leaned on his cane
and peered at him over his glasses. “It might be too late to undo the damage done by all the years he’s spent among the savages. I will have to consult with my peers to learn the best way to help him. We may have to scourge the evil from him ...” He left the room, still muttering to himself.

  Sister Mary Frances crossed herself as he left. Jenny melted into a heap on the bed, pulling the covers around her as she began to tremble. The nun put her arms around her and smoothed her hair, which was in wild disarray from her nightmare. Jenny sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, placing her forehead against them. Chase the Wind was slumped back against his pillows, his eyes shut, his full mouth a thin line as he clenched the blankets in hands that were curled into fists.

  “Who was that man?” he finally asked when his rage was under control.

  “Father Clarence—he runs the mission,” Sister Mary Frances explained.

  Chase the Wind looked over at Jenny, who was still sitting up in the bed, her hair falling around her shoulders and covering her knees. “He hates Jenny?” he asked.

  Jenny raised her head and looked at him with wide blue eyes that held fear in their depths. “Yes,” she said.

  “We don’t know that,” Sister Mary Frances said, laying her hand on Jenny’s arm.

  “I know it. He hates me. I don’t know why, but he does. I’m afraid he’s going to kill me,” She whispered.

  “Jenny, you know I will never let that happen. I’m sure we will hear something from the bishop soon.”

  Jenny jumped from her bed and went over to the window, where the first glimmer of dawn was lighting the cluster of snowflakes that had gathered like lace on the pane. “How will we hear anything? No one can travel in this, and you know the storm is moving east. It might be months before you hear anything, and even then, they might think that you are the one who is crazy, not him.”

  She whirled back around, her hair swinging out about her. She gathered the mass in her hands and knotted it again, flipping it back over her shoulder as she began to pace the small confines of the room. Chase watched her, while she prowled about like a mountain cat, her movements graceful as she made her way around the chair, kicking a missed shard under the bed. “I have got to get out of here before something happens to me, or worse, to Jamie.” She was talking to herself as she paced from bed to window, window to bed. “As soon as the weather breaks, we have to leave. He’ll have to go with me.”

  Sister Mary Frances stopped the pacing by placing her hands on Jenny’s shoulders. “You can’t go anyplace until spring gets here. You know that.” She looked up into Jenny’s eyes, forcing the girl to focus on her words. “We’ll move Jamie in here until then. He can sleep in the office, and if something else happens, hell be here to stop it. I think Father Clarence is afraid of him, or else Jamie wouldn’t be getting away with cutting class and eating in here with us.”

  Jenny looked at the nun and then over at Chase the Wind. He smiled at her, an encouraging smile, showing perfect white teeth in his bronze face. There was a dimple there also, and it looked so out of place in his regal face that she smiled back.

  “Okay,” Jenny said to the nun. “Can we move him in today?”

  “Ill take care of it,” Sister Mary Frances assured her. “Why don’t you try to get some more sleep?”

  Jenny nodded as she suddenly realized that she was shivering, whether from the cold or the shock of the morning’s events she could not tell. She climbed back into bed and pulled the blankets up under her chin. In the other room, she could hear Sister Mary Frances stirring up the fire in the office. Then all was quiet as she went to prepare for the day.

  “What injuries?” Chase the Wind asked after they heard the door close behind the nun.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Jenny closed her eyes, hoping to discourage any more conversation.

  “The priest said you have recovered from your injuries. I was wondering what they were.”

  Jenny held a palm out towards the other bed so Chase the Wind could see the scattering of small scars there.

  “What happened?”

  “I fell on some broken dishes.”

  “Is that all?”

  Jenny sat up and looked over at the other bed. Chase the Wind had turned his upper body so that he was lying on his side, the leg turned slightly in the sling.

  “Yes, that’s all. I fell and cut my hands and knees on some broken china.”

  “It doesn’t seem like that would be serious enough to confine you to the infirmary for so long.” Chase the Wind was tracing patterns with his long bronze finger on the sheets in front of him, but he looked up as he talked to her. Jenny felt as if her very soul was laid open to him as he looked at her, his eyes like a hawk’s that could see everything as it flew over the plains, searching for food.

  “I broke my arm, too,” she said.

  “Oh, I see.” He propped himself up on his elbow and pushed the blankets down around his waist; the heat from the stove was beginning to drift into the room. He grimaced as he put weight on the injured shoulder, but decided he could bear it for a while. “How did you fall? You don’t seem like the clumsy type.”

  “Why are you suddenly so interested in what happened to me several weeks ago?” Jenny demanded. She began to rearrange her blankets with exaggerated motions, folding the sheet over the blankets and creasing it until it suited her.

  “I was curious, that’s all. I thought maybe...”

  “Maybe what?”

  “I want to know if Father Clarence had anything to do with your injuries.”

  Jenny looked at him in horror, then looked out into the office to make sure no one was around. “Please, don’t mention that to anyone. Don’t even suggest it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m afraid of what might happen.”

  “To Jamie?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it’s his duty to protect you and avenge you.”

  “I don’t want him to avenge me. I just want to leave.”

  “So your brother does not know that the priest attacked you.”

  “No.” Jenny felt she was going to cry, and struggled to keep the tears at bay.

  “The nun knows.”

  “Yes. She’s doing her best to protect me until we can leave.”

  “Why does Father Clarence hate you?”

  “I don’t know. I think he has me confused with someone else, someone he used to know. He talks crazy sometimes when he’s around me. Sister Mary Frances wrote a letter hoping to find something out, but it’s been months since she sent it.”

  “You won’t hear anything until spring.”

  “I just hope I survive that long.” Much to her amazement, Chase the Wind was smiling at her. “You think I’m kidding?”

  “No, but you are being a little melodramatic.”

  Jenny flung a pillow at him, which he deflected with his arm. His eyes were dancing with laughter, and she realized that he was trying to lighten her mood. “Melodramatic—how did you learn a word like that, growing up in a Kiowa village?”

  “You’d be surprised to know what I know. What makes you think you know more than me anyway?”

  Jenny could not find an answer that would not sound condescending, so she just did what worked with Jamie. She stuck her tongue out at him. Chase the Wind fell back on his pillow and started to laugh. Jenny was surprised at how nice it sounded. It had been a long time since she had laughed from the heart. She grinned at him, flashing white teeth while he enjoyed his moment of having her at a loss for words. His laughter finally trailed off, and in the quiet they heard the sounds of the mission coming to life.

  “Were your parents killed in a fire?” he asked after a few minutes.

  “No. Oh, you mean because of Jamie?” She motioned down the side of her face, and he nodded. “No, they were murdered. We don’t know who, or why. Jamie’s burns came from a stray bullet that day; it hit a lantern, and the oil and flames went over him.” She shuddered at the memory.
/>   “I’m sorry.”

  “What happened to yours? I mean your father.” Jenny looked at him with tenderness in her deep blue eyes. “I know you don’t want to discuss him, because of your beliefs, but I was just wondering. You said you had to leave the village ...”

  “My father was killed by white soldiers who were coming to rescue white captives. They didn’t know that some of them did not want to be rescued. The tribe blamed my mother because she was white. Many warriors were killed that day, so the tribe made us leave.”

  “But you’re part Kiowa.”

  “They never saw that part. They only saw the white blood in me.”

  “Then your mother was killed by Indians.”

  “Yes, Pawnee.”

  “So you have reason to hate the whites and hate the Indians.”

  Chase the Wind looked at her as if she had made a great revelation. His eyes narrowed as his head filled with memories of torment from childhood, when the other children had made fun of him because he was different. Then came the banishment from the village immediately following the death of his father, the strangeness of the fort and the white soldiers who had been responsible for his father’s death, and his mother wanting to get as far away from the memories as soon as possible, without regard for the weather or their safety. It had all happened so fast, he had hardly had time to deal with it all. He had not even given a thought to where he would go after he left the mission. Jenny had laid it all out before him with one simple statement. Now the question looming before him was where did he belong?

  Jenny watched as a variety of emotions made their way across his regal face. She knew she had struck a nerve somewhere, but didn’t know if that was good or bad. She knew his mind was elsewhere, lost in some memory, but she was also curious. She had assumed that his mother had been captured by the Kiowa, but he’d said she didn’t want to leave. “Tell me about your mother and father. How did they meet?”

  Chase the Wind blinked his eyes as if he were waking up.

  “My mother lived with her mother and stepfather at a mine. They were isolated from the other workers, and she said her stepfather was always worried about claim jumpers. He would beat her mother, and my mother would run and hide when he did. She was afraid of what he would do to her. He was an evil man, and he drank a lot, which made it worse. My father would see her hiding in the woods when he was out hunting, and he became curious about her, so he started to watch her. He spent days just watching her family work the mine; then the man would get drunk and start in on his wife. One day he just walked up to my mother when she was crying. She wasn’t afraid. She said later that she figured an Indian couldn’t be any worse than what she was living with every day, and it wouldn’t have bothered her a bit if he had killed her. My father knew a little English, so they managed to communicate. One day she just got on his horse behind him, and he took her to his village. The tribe was not happy, because he was a great warrior and they wanted him to make a good marriage, but he said he loved my mother and that was the end of it. The tribe never accepted her, but my parents were so much in love that they didn’t care. She taught me how to read and write English from her Bible and made sure that I spoke it well. I think her mother must have been a teacher before she married the miner. My mother barely remembered her real father. She said that life was hard after he died and they couldn’t make ends meet, so that was why her mother remarried. She said the man changed after they came west. My father took her back to the mine one time, but all they found was a deserted cabin and a grave. They believed that he had finally killed her.”