White Dusk

by Susan Edwards

  Makatah nodded. “Moon Fire came to fetch Small Bird to help her.”

  “Do you know where they went? What time?”

  “That way.” The woman pointed. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Worry suddenly churned Swift Foot’s gut. He’d told Small Bird not to leave the immediate vicinity of camp—even to bathe. But she would have left if her mother needed her, or if anyone else did. He pondered his choices.

  “Something is wrong,” Makatah said. She stumbled as she walked up to him.

  Steadying her, he took the bowl of hot food from Makatah. “I will go search for them.”

  Matoluta, coming up behind to see what was going on, asked, “What is going on?” Though he’d threatened to leave the tribe, as had several others, none had carried out the threat. But anger still vibrated through him. It was in his voice.

  Makatah took the bowl back from Swift Foot. “My husband will go with you to look for your wife. If something is wrong, you will need help.”

  Swift Foot nodded, but waited for Matoluta to give his consent.

  When Makatah elbowed her husband none too gently, he drew himself up. “I will go with my chief,” he said.

  “Let us go, then.”

  Matoluta began calling out to others, telling them that Small Bird was missing. Before Swift Foot got out of camp, he had half a dozen warriors marching at his side and behind him.

  He found footprints from where his wife had been working, and he followed them. When he arrived at a stand of trees, he called out. He saw signs of a struggle. His blood went cold. Lifting feathers that matched the ones he wore in his hair, fingering the long strands of blue-black hair, he brought it all to his face. “We will find you, wife,” he promised.

  “Look at this.” Matoluta held up an arrow and pointed to a medicine bag lying on the ground.

  Swift Foot stared down at the small pouch with a hawk’s profile painted on it. Red fury streamed through him.

  Hawk Eyes had taken Small Bird!

  Turning, Swift Foot ran back to camp. The rest followed but could not keep up. He did not wait. He had no time to lose. He had to find Small Bird. His heart raced. Fear burned through each vein in his body.

  This enemy had killed his parents. They had killed so many to get to him, and now they had taken his wife. He knew they would not hesitate to kill her.

  Hawk Eyes rode hard, and his men followed the clear tracks. They headed north, toward the enemy—toward where Many Horns had tracked them. Fury pushed him. Far into the night they’d gone. Somehow the enemy had found them, and they’d taken his son.

  Once and for all, it was time to put an end to this battle. No one harmed those under his protection—especially his family.

  His wife had been found, knocked unconscious. She’d been taken far to the south and abandoned. But his son was gone. Hawk Eyes knew who was responsible. The false trail did not fool him; only Swift Foot had the guts to do such a deed.

  Many Horns had been right: Swift Foot wanted war. He would get it. To the last man if need be.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Small Bird was tied to a tree, bait to lure her husband into a trap. Worse, she knew it would work. Swift Foot would come for her; he’d die, and it would be her fault for going so far from camp when he’d told her to stay close. At least her mother was all right. Moon Fire had told her that Yellow Robe was assisting in a birth and had not been harmed. She supposed her cousin had no reason to lie, so her mother was probably fine.

  Unfortunately, she and the small four-year-old boy tied beside her were not. According to Many Horns this was Golden Eagle, the son of Hawk Eyes. The child wore a stoic expression, but Small Bird knew he was terrified. As she herself was.

  Many Horns continued to sharpen his knife while Moon Fire prepared a simple meal. Watching Many Horns, Small Bird had to admit his plan was good: kidnap the son of one chief and the wife of another, and let the two sides blame each other and fight. But she didn’t understand his reasons. He was Miniconjou. Why take the son of his chief? All he’d needed was her to lure Swift Foot into a trap. They’d ridden for two days before stopping here. But why?

  To still her nerves and fear as Many Horns ran his finger over his blade, Small Bird asked, “Why the child? What purpose does it serve to scare him? And why did you take him? You don’t need him to lure my husband into a trap.”

  “I am not scared,” Golden Eagle spoke up. But his voice quavered.

  Many Horns threw his knife. It slammed into the tree trunk inches above Small Bird’s head.

  She refused to cower. Now more than ever she needed to retain her faith in herself, had to believe that all things happened for a reason. Giving in to terror would do no one any good. Standing and retrieving his knife, Many Horns bent down and pressed its blade to her cheek. “Yes, I have you. So your husband will come.” He paused to stare at the child. “But the boy will bring his father.” He walked over to where Moon Fire sat.

  “My father will come, and he will kill you.” Golden Eagle’s youthful boast brought laughter to Many Horns. Moon Fire joined in somewhat less enthusiastically.

  “Your father will be killed by Swift Foot,” Many Horns answered cruelly.

  Moon Fire moved over to her lover and ran her hand down his back, but Small Bird noticed Many Horns seemed barely aware of it. “Then you plan to kill us,” she guessed.

  Many Horns looked unrepentant. “Yes. You will both die. Then I shall know peace. Revenge will be mine.” His eyes were filled with some unknowable rage.

  Moon Fire frowned. “You said you weren’t going to hurt anyone. Not seriously. Bring them together and make them talk, that is what you said.”

  Many Horns laughed harshly. “They will never talk. Those two will come together and die trying to kill each another.”

  Small Bird spoke up: “You underestimate both Hawk Eyes and my husband. They will learn of your treachery and come after you.”

  Moon Fire looked nervous.

  Once more, Many Horns’s knife flew toward Small Bird. This time she felt the blade strike close to her head. He hadn’t hit her, but he had come about as close as he could: she felt the blade, cool against her scalp.

  The man pulled Moon Fire into his arms, and Small Bird saw her cousin swallow hard. “Do not go weak on me now, my love,” he said. “They all have to die. You know that.”

  “So that we can start anew somewhere else?”

  “They cannot be allowed to live. I will have my revenge. And if we let these others go, they will point their fingers at us and we will never know peace.” His voice drifted. “Do not feel sorry for any of them. They are all responsible for the loss of my father.”

  Moon Fire pulled away, seemingly surprised. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Would it have mattered? The important thing is that we have our revenge. Then we will go away. Just like you wanted.”

  “Oh, Many Horns,” Moon Fire crooned, resettling in his arms.

  Small Bird took a deep breath. The longer Many Horns talked, the longer they rested here, the more chance Swift Foot would have to save her. She just prayed he would not fall into the other man’s trap. “Who killed your father? If I am to die, you can at least tell me why.”

  Many Horns narrowed his eyes, but he kept hold of Moon Fire, his fingers stroking the outer edge of her breast. “My father wasn’t killed, exactly. He loved the mother of Hawk Eyes, but she was promised to Runs with Wind. He was angry that she wouldn’t run away with him. When Runs with Wind rejected her, my father tried again to marry her.” His voice grew hard. “Again she rejected my father.”

  He rubbed the strands of Moon Fire’s hair between his fingers. Small Bird wanted to know more, but she didn’t dare risk angering him. He was silent a long while. Finally he continued.

  “My father left the tribe. He married my mother who was the daughter of another chief in a different tribe. He never loved her—all he wanted was to prove he was a worthy warrior. After I was born,
he left and never came back. We had no one. My mother lived with the shame of his rejection. Not wanting to go back to her own tribe, she took us to that of Hawk Eyes’s father. But they did not want us.

  “My mother took me away. Along the Big Muddy river, two white men found us. One of them kept us with him. He took my mother to his bed. Then she started drinking his poisoned water and turned mean like him.”

  “So you are trying to punish both tribes for your past?” Small Bird interjected, astonished that so much hate could live in one person.

  “I ran away when I was twelve winters. I’d been beaten, my mother had been beaten…but she didn’t care. All she wanted was more of that firewater. The day I left, I swore I’d kill the men who did this to my mother. The men who destroyed our family—as I will destroy theirs.”

  “What does this have to do with Swift Foot or his father? By not marrying the woman your father loved, Runs with Wind gave your father a chance to win her.”

  “My mother could not live up to what my father wanted! He only wanted Hawk Eyes’s mother! And your husband’s father spurned her! And Hawk Eyes’s father had her! They laughed at my father, drove him away, made him miserable. And that made my mother miserable. And now I will visit that upon their children!”

  Looking to her cousin, Small Bird shook her head. “He’s mad. You cannot allow him to do this, Moon Fire.”

  Sneering, Many Horns lowered his face and kissed Small Bird’s cousin. “She will do as I wish. She loves me.” Standing, he carried the girl a short distance away. Then, though it was only dusk, Many Horns took Moon Fire on the ground there in full view, uncaring that he had an audience in the early-evening light.

  Small Bird closed her eyes. Next to her, she felt the child slump against her as he slept.

  “Come for me, my husband,” she whispered. “Come for me. Find us before it is too late. And do not fall victim to Many Horns’s trap.”

  The clear night sky was kind to Swift Foot; it helped him see to track his foes. Night turned to day, and day again into night. His party stopped only to rest, and to water and feed the horses. During these times, Swift Foot gathered his warriors and formulated several plans.

  As they did so, he listened, he kept thinking of Small Bird. Hang on, my wife. I am coming. He sent the prayers up into the sky. It was midafternoon on their second full day out.

  Night Thunder used the tip of his finger to draw a path in the dirt they’d softened. “We have come from here.” He drew their path. “I think they are heading here. They go south, back to their own lands.” He marked an area far off.

  Swift Foot frowned at his friend. “When we battled, we were here.” He marked the site, then where his scouts had told him the Miniconjou had camped before the fight. Likely they had moved since. He had a smaller group of warriors with him this time. Though he longed to attack directly, to get revenge, he felt he had a better chance of getting Small Bird back alive with stealth. Especially if those who had taken his wife managed to reunite with their tribe. “If they came from here, knowing the land, they will most likely be here.” He marked where he thought his enemies would be taking Small Bird.

  Murmurs of agreement followed. One voice dissented.

  Swift Foot sighed. Kills Many Crows had insisted on coming along. To his surprise, his cousin pointed to a region most avoided.

  “They’ll stop here. In Mako Shika.”

  The badland. Swift Foot considered. Hadn’t he sought refuge there after the attack. Because the earth was so barren, it made a good place to hide from an enemy. Most tribes avoided the stark place, but Swift Foot had always seen not only a beauty, but a practical purpose to the area. What better place to set a trap than among a maze of rocks, hidden valleys and deep ravines? Perhaps his foe thought as he did.

  He said, “That is a large area. It will be hard to find them if they go there. Especially if they cover their tracks.”

  “But they do not cover their tracks. And there are only two of them.” Kills Many Crows looked smug.

  Which worried Swift Foot. Was he riding into a trap? “There will be many others,” he promised. “Perhaps they lie in wait.” He studied their dirt map, considering his cousin’s assessment.

  Glancing over at Kills Many Crows, he was surprised to find no bitterness there. There was intensity, but it was not directed against Swift Foot.

  His cousin met his stare. “No one harms a member of our family.”

  Swift Foot nodded, pleased. “Then let us ride. We will head to the badland.”

  As he mounted, he focused his rage, drawing on his inner strength. He had control. He would find his wife. Then he’d make sure he never lost her again.

  Dumped in an exhausted heap on the hard, dusty ground, Small Bird tried to move. She felt so sore. Her arms ached. Her feet felt numb and her tongue was swollen. She was so thirsty.

  Somewhere near her, she heard Golden Eagle whimper in his sleep. Her captors had been more generous with him. Twice she’d seen her cousin slip him some water while they traveled. Small Bird continued to ride with Many Horns, though, and he gave her nothing.

  Struggling to sit, Small Bird fought a wave of dizziness. Her eyes felt gritty. She tried to wipe them with her shoulders, for her hands were tied behind her back, but it was useless.

  Bleary-eyed, she stared up at the night sky. The stars winked down at her. She found the one that never moved. She found the seven stars of the seven councils. Then she remembered Wind Dancer’s words. He’d said reason was always there, reason for all things. Like the stars, or the sun. He’d said that she had to have faith—she had to believe.

  Stifling a moan, she wasn’t sure she had any faith left. Surely she’d die long before Swift Foot found her. Her eyes were scratchy. She couldn’t even cry for the much-needed moisture. She tried to close her mind to her physical discomfort and her mental anguish, and she shut her eyes too.

  Another whimper made her scoot over to the child. “Hush,” she said in a croak. “They will come. They will come,” she murmured until her throat closed.

  Golden Eagle rolled closer, seeking comfort.

  Please, she thought over and over. Please save us.

  Staring up at the sky, Small Bird continued to pray. The night blurred. The star she’d been focusing on split into two above her head. She blinked, then realized the one star really had split into two. Two trails of light zoomed down toward where she lay. Her aching eyes followed the shimmering light until comets winked out.

  “Find me, husband,” she wished on the shooting stars. “Find me.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Riding, his body bent over his horse, spent with exhaustion, Swift Foot still refused to give in to the need for rest. He had to find Small Bird before it was too late.

  Night Thunder caught up with him. “We must stop.”

  “We cannot.” He couldn’t stop. Not until Small Bird was found.

  “You will do your wife no good by killing the horses.”

  Sighing, Swift Foot nodded. His friend was right. Both man and beast were beyond exhaustion. “Give the signal.” He slowed.

  Dismounting, he found that fatigue nearly brought him to his knees. Beside him, his horse hung its head, blowing softly through its nostrils. It had been hours since they’d last found water. Swift Foot opened his pouch, and poured the precious liquid into his palm for the horse.

  Afterward, he sat. He didn’t bother to hobble his mount. Like him, the animal was too tired even to think of wandering. Knowing they had to rest for several hours, Swift Foot lay back and closed his eyes. Just for a few minutes—he would not sleep, he told himself firmly. He could not sleep until Small Bird was returned to him and those who’d taken her punished.

  That was his last thought. Soon he was dreaming of Small Bird: the love in her eyes and in her voice, and her compassion toward his people and toward him. It swept away all the pain of his past. Whether making love, defending him or seeing to the needs of others, his wife put her heart into all
that she did. And he loved her deeply for that.

  Yet, of everything he held dear, most dear was the way she believed in him. Nothing he’d ever said or done had swayed her from the determination that they were meant for each other. That knowledge soothed him. It made him happy. He woke.

  With all her faith in him, he refused to fail her. They could believe in destiny, but they could not sit back and wait for it to happen. “I’ll find you, my wife,” he promised.

  In the deep dark night cloaking the sky above him, stars blinked down. Small Bird loved the stars. Swift Foot smiled, remembering that first night he’d shown them to her. Suddenly two stars shot across the sky. Swift Foot’s heart hammered as he watched the stars fall and fizzle out like flames doused with water.

  A sign. It had to be a sign. “She’s alive,” he shouted, conviction ringing in his voice. He jumped to his feet. The stars would be his guide.

  Night Thunder rushed to his side. “What is it?”

  “A sign. The spirits sent a sign. We go. Now.”

  Knowing the rest would follow as they could, he rushed to his horse and rode off.

  Rough hands shook Small Bird awake. “Shh,” a voice said.

  Lone Warrior! Her throat too parched to do more than croak, her eyes too dry to cry tears, Small Bird struggled to sit. If her brother was here, then it meant Swift Foot was near. For just a moment it hurt that her husband hadn’t come for her himself. Gathering her pain and burying it deep, she concentrated on getting herself and Golden Eagle free from their captors.

  Something sharp slid between her wrists, slicing through the leather thongs binding her arms behind her back. At first she couldn’t feel her fingers; her arms hung useless and heavy. Then the blood began to flow, and excruciating pain shot through her. Small Bird bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out. Her feet were untied.

  “Come, I’ve got to get you out of here.” Lone Warrior slipped his arms under her.