Swift Horse

by Cassie Edwards

  “I won’t go nowhere,” Abraham said, his eyes wide as he watched the one-eyed man go to his horse and take a rope from the bag that hung at the horse’s right side.

  “Are you gonna hang me?” Abraham gasped raspily as One Eye uncoiled the rope and walked toward him with it. One Eye’s only response was a guttural laugh.

  He used the rope to secure Abraham to the tree.

  One Eye stood before Abraham as he yanked his knife from the sheath at his right side. “If you cry out for help, I will not kill you instantly when I return, I will kill you slowly and painfully.”

  Abraham visibly trembled, the rope cutting into his flesh where it held him in place against the tree.

  One Eye glared at him, then ran stealthily toward the clearing.

  Just as he got there and was poised to plunge the knife into Soft Wind’s chest, a gun blast rang out.

  One Eye felt an instant sting in his belly and realized that he had just been shot. He dropped his knife and grabbed at his stomach, feeling the heat of blood as it seeped between his fingers.

  Just as his knees buckled beneath him, he saw Swift Horse step out into the open, smoke spiraling upward from the barrel of his rifle.

  “You . . .” One Eye gasped, now on his knees, blinking his one eye over and over again as he fought off dying. “Swift Horse, you . . . would . . . do this . . . ?”

  Swift Horse felt a keen remorse intermingled with pangs of hate as he watched One Eye’s lone eye close and One Eye topple over onto his stomach, headfirst.

  Marsha ran to Swift Horse’s side as Edward James gathered Soft Wind into his arms.

  “He . . . was going . . . to kill me,” Soft Wind gulped out, clinging hard to her husband. “One Eye was the one-eyed renegade.”

  “Yes, he was guilty all along and I was too blinded to see it,” Swift Horse said, dropping his rifle to the ground. He hung his head in his hands. “Because of me, because of my faith in that man, many had to suffer.”

  “I found Abraham,” a voice rang out as one of Swift Horse’s warriors found Abraham tied to the tree. “He is all right.”

  That news came to Swift Horse like a breath of fresh air, because if Abraham had died, Swift Horse might not have forgiven himself.

  “It’s over now,” Marsha reassured, as Swift Horse looked at her with an apologetic gaze. “Please don’t feel guilty for anything that has to do with One Eye. You were a dedicated, loyal friend, who just did not want to believe there was evil in your longtime friend.”

  “You did what only a true friend would do,” Edward James said, walking up closer to Swift Horse and Marsha, Soft Wind at his side, his arm around her waist. “You believed in a friend and your friendship.”

  Abraham came toward Swift Horse, smiling broadly. “I am all right,” he said, reassuring Swift Horse that he was. “The ropes were tight on me, but tha’s all. I’m alive. But had you not come . . .”

  “Let’s not think about what-if’s,” Marsha said, giving Abraham a soft smile. “Let’s just thank the Lord that that man’s evil has been silenced forever.”

  The other women who had walked farther away from Soft Wind and her friend came running toward them, baskets in hand, their eyes wide with fear. When they saw One Eye lying there, stilled by a bullet in his belly, they stopped and stared down at him, then gazed up at Swift Horse with questioning in their eyes.

  “He was evil, through and through,” Swift Horse said thickly. He gazed down at One Eye. “But he was not always that way.” He swallowed hard. “I believe the day the bear attacked him and took away one of his eyes was the day that One Eye changed. For so long he could not look at his reflection in the mirror of the river water, for he was ashamed of how he looked. I tried to reassure him by telling him that everyone looked past those scars and saw, instead, his inner self, which was good. But he could not get past how the women looked away from him in disgust since that day. There was no changing that.”

  “I feel to blame,” Soft Wind said, a sob lodging in the depths of her throat. “I knew that he cared deeply for me, yet I did not love him even before his accident.”

  “Never blame yourself for any of this,” Edward James said, placing his hands at his wife’s shoulders and turning her to face him. “He is what he made himself to be. There had to have been something in him long before that day of the bear’s attack for him to have become so evil. He was born evil, but just did not allow anyone to see it.”

  “I do recall how sometimes, when we were very young braves who had only small bows to carry around with us, he would shoot tiny forest animals with his arrow when only moments before he and I had been playing with them,” Swift Horse said, his voice breaking. “It would always be when my back was turned and he would then say that it was an accident, knowing that I could not say otherwise.”

  “Let’s go,” Marsha urged, taking Swift Horse by a hand. “Let’s put this behind us, for always. We have more important things to think about—like our marriage. Now that this is behind us, we can finally have our ceremony.” She smiled up at him. “Can we tomorrow?” she rushed out. “Wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing to make you forget today?”

  “I shall never forget today, nor that it was I who killed someone who has been a part of my life since I was but a small brave, even as far back as when we took our first steps together,” Swift Horse said.

  He took his hands from hers, turned his back to One Eye, then nodded. “Yes, let us get this behind us,” he said. He turned to Marsha. “But I have one more thing to do, first.”

  “That is?” Marsha asked, yet knew almost for certain what he was referring to.

  “I must go and tell One Eye’s people about him, as well as take his body to them,” Swift Horse said, a shiver racing across his flesh to know that he must have those last moments with someone he had never truly known. He did have to take him home.

  “Can’t someone else do it?” Marsha asked, searching his eyes.

  “It is my responsibility,” Swift Horse said thickly.

  He turned to his warriors. “Place him on his horse,” he said, nodding toward One Eye. “Accompany me to his village.”

  “Abraham and I will take the women home,” Edward James said, smiling over at Abraham, who quickly nodded in agreement.

  Swift Horse nodded, then he went to Marsha and took her hands in his. “Tomorrow is ours,” he said, bending and brushing a kiss across her brow.

  She gazed adoringly into his eyes. “Yes, ours . . .” she murmured, then watched him leave with One Eye’s body, stifling a sob behind her hand.

  “We’ve a wedding to get ready for,” Edward James said, trying to lighten everyone’s mood. “Come on, little sister, we’ve much to do.”

  “I’ll stay with the women to keep them safe,” Abraham said as the women gathered around him.

  Marsha gave Abraham a smile, then saddled her steed as Edward James placed Soft Wind on his horse, her basket of roots being carried by one of the women.

  Chapter 35

  My perfect wife . . .

  Oh heart, my own, oh eyes, mine too....

  —Robert Browning

  Several years later

  It was a warm day of spring, when new sprouts were appearing on the trees, and flowers were just pushing their way through the earth that had been watered most of the winter by snow.

  Robins warbled in the trees near the Creek village. At the nearby river, and even in the creeks that dissected the land near the Creek village, an occasional eager fish leaped from the water, seemingly glad that the ice was no longer there to hinder its movements.

  The sun was brilliant overhead in a blue sky, where only occasional puffs of white clouds scudded past.

  Marsha had learned that the “chunkey yard” was an integral part of the Creek village. The yard where the game was played was continually swept clean and was often surrounded by banks of earth from the repeated sweeping.

  “Come on, son!” Marsha shouted as she sat beside her husband amidst
their Wind Clan, cheering on their ten-year-old son Moon Thunder as he played chunkey with friends of his same age. “Come on, Moon Thunder! You can win.”

  She heard a chuckle beside her and turned to find Swift Horse watching her, having always admired her enthusiasm for games his people played—especially if her husband or son, or even her nephew, were among those who were competing.

  “Am I too loud again?” Marsha asked, blushing when she looked over her shoulder to see if her cheers had brought attention of others away from the game and to her.

  “No, my wife, you are not too loud,” Swift Horse said, sliding an arm around her waist and drawing her up next to him. “It is good to see you so proud of our son.”

  “I’m as proud of our daughter,” Marsha said. Soft Wind was babysitting the children today. Marsha’s niece Sweet Butterfly would spend the afternoon playing dolls with her daughter Pretty Sky.

  She turned again toward those who were competing in the game, among them not only Swift Horse’s and Marsha’s son, but also Soft Wind and Edward James’s.

  Edward James and Soft Wind had chosen to name one child with an Indian name, the other with one that was used in the white community—especially since their son had hardly any outward appearances of being part Creek. Everything about him was Edward James all over again!

  Edward James knew of the prejudices of white people toward those whose skin was red, and he had big plans for his son Jimmy. He was going to see that he had the best schooling, and even now Jimmy attended school at the closest town, Paducah.

  But it wasn’t only schooling that he planned for his son. He wanted him to have a college education. Jimmy had voiced his desire to be a lawyer—someone who could fight for the rights of the red man.

  His goals were quite different from Moon Thunder’s. Once Moon Thunder had completed his education, he wanted to return to his people and teach those children whose parents would not allow them to attend school where whites attended.

  Moon Thunder had looked past ridicule that some whites were guilty of during his time at school. He had a future to look toward and he would not allow anyone to get in his way!

  Also, he knew that one day he would step into his father’s footsteps as chief of their Wind Clan. How better to become a great a leader than to get an education that would help him know how to stand up against white people who would try to take the freedom away from their Wind Clan of Creek? Moon Thunder had said that between him and Jimmy, with their knowledge of so many things, no one would ever get the best of their people!

  “We have been blessed with a wonderful daughter and son, that is true,” Swift Horse said, nodding. “As I have been blessed with a wonderful wife.”

  “Our life—” Marsha started to say, but when she heard her son let out a loud whooping sound, she turned quickly, just in time to see his spear land the closest to the place where the chunkey stone had stopped, meaning he was the victor this time.

  The first time she had seen this game played, was when Swift Horse had played it with his warriors. She had watched intensely as the players rolled a stone disk and then attempted to estimate where the stone would stop rolling. The object was to see who could land his spear the closest to the place the chunkey stone had stopped, as Moon Thunder had just done.

  Cheers rang into the air as all those who had been in competition with Moon Thunder circled around him, patting him on the back and congratulating him. And then just as quickly the competition began again.

  “As you know, this can go on for many more hours,” Swift Horse said as he drew Marsha’s eyes back to him. “I do not believe our sons will miss us should we leave and take a walk along the river. I might even pluck you a bouquet for your kitchen table.”

  “Now, how can I say no to such a proposition as that?” Marsha said, laughing softly.

  When she and Swift Horse reached the river, they stopped and gazed across it, at how gentle it was today, and beautiful with the weeping willows hanging down over it in places, with their fresh growth of leaves on their swaying limbs.

  “Everything is new and fresh,” Marsha murmured. She inhaled a deep breath of the midafternoon air. “I love spring.”

  “Even though I will soon be gone for several days as I join my warriors on the hunt for the white-tailed deer?” Swift Horse said, turning her to face him. He gazed into her eyes. “I want to bring home much meat for my family, and pelts that can be made into beautiful clothes that you are now so skilled at making.”

  “I love sewing, especially with beads,” Marsha murmured.

  She glanced over her shoulder at her brother’s store, knowing that he was there even now, preparing his shelves for the arrival of fresh pelts. He always showed such enthusiasm this time of year, for his trading post was now known wide and far, a favorite of all who were based in Kentucky.

  “Edward James is missing the game today,” she murmured. “But he has seen our sons participate enough times during the nontrading season.”

  “And he has even participated a time or two,” Swift Horse said, chuckling. “It is good to compete with him in that way. He has become quite a chunkey player, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” Marsha said, now walking hand-in-hand with Swift Horse beside the river, farther away from the village.

  Suddenly a deer ran past, then came back and playfully nuzzled Marsha’s hand as she held it out for her.

  “Abraham has to be more careful with Sandy now that hunting season is near,” she said, now stooping and hugging the beautiful, grown deer that seemed to believe it was human, not animal.

  It was a pet, that was for sure, yet too large now to live in the cabin with Abraham. Abraham had built Sandy her own cabin behind his, where much straw had been placed for the deer to sleep upon, and for warmth.

  “Sandy!” Abraham shouted as he came running toward Marsha and Swift Horse, his eyes on the deer. “Sandy, you’re getting too frisky for this ol’ black man.”

  “Good morning, Abraham,” Marsha said, smiling at him as he came and stopped, the deer soon nuzzling his hand, then standing close beside him as Abraham petted her.

  “Mornin’, ma’am,” Abraham said, still panting from having run so hard to catch up with his pet deer. He gazed over at Swift Horse. “Mornin’, Swift Horse,” he said, smiling broadly. “I saw your son win the game of chunkey twice now today.”

  He looked past them as the game continued, then smiled at Marsha. “I saw your brother’s boy win, too,” he said. “Both boys are skilled at the game.” He bowed his head, then looked up again with sadness in his eyes. “I had a son once,” he said. “He would’ve been a good chunkey game player.”

  “Yes, I’m sure he would have,” Marsha said, always feeling so deeply for this man and what he had gone through in his life. But since he had become a part of the Creek’s life, life had been good and loving for him.

  “Abraham, you know the hunt begins soon,” Swift Horse said, gazing at the deer and then at Abraham. “Times like this, when Sandy gets away from you, can end in tragedy.”

  “I know,” Abraham said, then nodded. “I plan to take Sandy home and make certain she doesn’t get loose again. My heart would break if anything happened to my pet.”

  “Mine too,” Marsha murmured, reaching a hand to Sandy and gently stroking her. She had been with Abraham the two times he had planned to set the animal free but had been, in the end, unable to do it. And she understood. She loved the animal almost as much as if were human!

  “The animal is so adorable,” she murmured.

  “I’ll be seein’ you two soon again,” Abraham said, turning and walking away from them, Sandy at his heels.

  “As fond as he is of that animal, I don’t doubt that he’ll keep a close watch on her now,” Marsha said, then began walking again with Swift Horse. “I will miss you so much when you are gone on the hunt.”

  “As I will miss you,” Swift Horse said, smiling over at her. “As I always have when we are apart.”

  “
I love the winters so much,” Marsha murmured. “You are home most of the time. It is good to have you with me while I bake, sew, and play with our daughter.”

  “She, too, will one day be school age,” Swift Horse said. “Are you certain you will send her to a white school, or teach her yourself, as you did before our son asked to go to school with Jimmy?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Marsha said, sighing. “I still have time to think about it. She is only three.”

  “Our marriage is a good one,” Swift Horse said, stopping and placing his hands at Marsha’s shoulders, turning her to face him. “I will never forget the day we spoke our vows, how beautiful you were, how my people accepted you so quickly.”

  “I think of that day often, too,” Marsha murmured, even now catapulted back in time, remembering how gently and sweetly Swift Horse had treated her during the ceremony.

  And, ah, how handsome he had been!

  He had worn a scarlet cloak trimmed in fur, and his thick hair, also intertwined with fur, had hung in one long braid down his back. All of this matched the fur he wore around his neck that denoted him as chief of his Wind Clan. But it had been the sheath of eagle feathers that he had carried that day—and how he had presented it to her—that had been the most special.

  It was mainly what he said that clung to her, making her heart soar each time she remembered his words: “These are the feathers of the eagle, which is the swiftest of birds,” he had said to her. “These feathers are a sign of my love for you—my devotion, forever and ever.”

  That sheath of feathers now hung on the wall just above their bed, where she could see it every night before she went to sleep with her beloved husband, and each morning as she awakened to a brand-new day with Swift Horse.

  After their vows had been exchanged and they had been blessed by Bright Moon, they had joined their people for a village-wide dance and a feast of bear’s ribs barbecued with honey.