Broken Feather

by Jeanie P Johnson

  As he spoke, he could feel the wagon tipping, and he pushed off from it, pushing Vanessa up ahead of him, as he grasped onto rocks and bushes to keep from sliding down. He looked back to see the wagon tip on its side, causing one of the shafts connecting the horse to the wagon to snap, releasing the horse as the leather tethers tore loose. The wagon started tumbling, and the horse was swimming away with the current.

  Vanessa was screaming in fear, but Broken Feather kept encouraging her, as he helped her up the side of the bluff until they reached the top. The rain pelted down on them, and Broken Feather, pulled Vanessa into his arms to try and shelter her from as much of the rain as he could, hunching his shoulders over her, with his back to the wind.

  “We are never going to make it out of here alive,” she whimpered into Broken Feather’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry. These storms end as abruptly as they start. Once it stops raining, we will go find the wagon and salvage as much as we can from it.”

  “Should we try to make it back to the fort?” she asked.

  “It might be a good idea. We might have to walk, though, unless we manage to find the horse still alive.”

  “I knew this was a bad omen,” Vanessa muttered.

  He only hugged her tighter. Even if they found the wagon, their food supply would be soaked. If he managed to find the horse, he might be able to rig up a travois to pull whatever they manage to salvage on it, he thought. He would just have to wait and see, though.

  Slowly, the rain started to let up, and finally, the sun was shining again, as though nothing had happened. From their vantage point, Broken Feather could see the land below. He saw the wagon in the distance lying on its side, the water still flowing

  around it, but not as deep as it had been when the wagon was washed away. He didn’t see the horse anywhere, but he figured he could track it down easy enough. He wondered how many supplies remained in the wagon.

  “Do you feel up to climbing back down?” he asked Vanessa.

  “I don’t know if I can do it,” she mumbled.

  Broken Feather, watched as the steam began to rise from their wet clothes, once the sun started warming everything up again. “I don’t think you have much choice,” he told her. “Sit on my shoulders, once I get down on the side of the bluff. All you have to do is keep hold of whatever you can grab onto as I lower us down.

  Vanessa nodded reluctantly, but did as he told her, and they began to make the slow descent down the side of the bluff together. When their feet finally touched the ground below the bluff, there was ankle-deep water, flowing around their legs.

  “The wagon is up ahead,” he told Vanessa, as he steadied her.

  They were both covered in mud. Vanessa’s hair had fallen down around her shoulders, the dampness had caused it to kink up in the curls she hated so much, and her expression looked frightened through the smears of mud on her face.

  “When we get to the wagon, you can find something in one of your trunks to wear,” he told her, knowing she felt self-conscious, being so scantily dressed.

  “I must look horrible,” she murmured, running her fingers through her curls, trying to straighten them a little.

  “On the contrary, I think you look exceptionally beautiful,” he laughed, dipping his hand in the water and washing some of the mud off of her face.

  “You are making fun of me!” she cried.

  “Never,” he stated. “I never say what I don’t really mean. Whether you are in your fancy dress, or standing here with mud on your face, dressed in pantaloons, to me you look beautiful.”

  Vanessa looked away, not knowing what to say. Broken Feather took her small hand in his. “Let me hold you steady so you don’t fall in the water,” he murmured, clasping her hand tighter.

  She released her hand from his, and pushed it through his elbow, holding on to his arm with her other hand as well. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  As they walked to the wagon, they discovered several bundles that had been flung from the wagon as it tumbled in the water. Broken Feather reached down and grabbed up what he could, and Vanessa began to help him. They finally reached the wagon, their arms laden with the castoff supplies. Already, the water had receded even more, but now the mud was sucking at their feet. The remainder of their supplies were in a pile around the tipped over wagon, and Vanessa dropped her load and sat down on one of her trunks.

  “There is so much mud,” she sighed. “Where will we ever camp when it starts to get dark?”

  “I’ll turn the wagon back upright, and we can camp inside of it. Take all the blankets and drape them over the sides of the wagon to dry. We will tack the tarp back over the top and use it like a tent. While you are drying out the blankets and changing your clothes, I’ll go look for the horse.”

  “You aren’t going to leave me here all by myself,” she whimpered.

  “Nothing is going to happen to you. I doubt there are any marauding Comanche out on a day like this. Just sit tight until I return.”

  “What if you don’t come back?” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. I won’t know what to do!”

  “I promise I will come back,” Broken Feather said softly, looking down in her fearful eyes, believing he could drown in their depth.

  “I will be too frightened, if you leave me here,” she cried, tightening her grip on his neck. “Don’t go. Take me with you!”

  Broken Feather paused, his arms found their way around her waist, holding her against him. “You won’t be able to keep up with me, once you put those bulky skirts on again,” he murmured against her damp, muddy curls.

  “Then I won’t put them back on! Help me put the blankets over the wagon sides so they can dry while we are looking for the horse.”

  “No telling how long it will take. Are you sure you are not too tired to keep up with me?”

  “You have to take me with you, no matter what! I won’t sit here wondering when you are ever coming back. If something happened to you, I would be waiting forever!”

  “Something may happen to both of us, if you insist on joining me.”

  “I would rather it be that way. At least we would be together and…”

  “I would never forgive myself if something ended up happening to you, though. I am supposed to be protecting you.”

  “If you leave without me, you won’t be here to protect me,” she reasoned.

  Broken Feather stood looking down at her for a long moment, as he enjoyed having his arms around her waist. “Alright,” he said at last. “Only you have to promise to keep up with me.”

  “Oh thank you,” Vanessa squealed, and without thinking, she planted a kiss on his lips in her excitement.

  The moment she felt his lips beneath hers, she realized the mistake she had made, and started to pull away, only it was too late, Broken Feather had her head captured in his hands and was returning the kiss with a passion he hadn’t intended.

  Vanessa started to struggle, but then found herself relaxing, and accepting the kiss. She realized this was the first kiss she had ever shared with a man, and it was doing something to her insides that she couldn’t explain. Finally they broke apart and stood staring at each other, then Broken Feather, dropped his arms from her.

  “Forgive me,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “We should get busy,” Vanessa murmured, turning to find the wet blankets and starting to throw them over the sides of the wagon. She was trembling all over, and didn’t want Broken Feather to realize how the kiss had affected her.

  Broken Feather began helping her. Once all the blankets and the tarp were laid over the wagon to dry, Broken Feather took Vanessa’s hand in his and pulled her along with him as he began to sprint in the direction he had last seen the horse swimming.

  As they jogged, the ground started to dry up more, and their clothes were drying as well, the mud flaking off of them as they moved. Vanessa was trying to keep up with Broken Feather, but finding it harder to do as they continued to sp
rint. In desperation, Broken Feather suddenly swept Vanessa up in his arms, as he continued to keep up his pace.

  “How can you do this?” Vanessa asked in wonder.

  “From a young age, braves are expected to run every day. They are told to run to the highest peak and then back again with water in their mouths, to force them to breathe through their noses. When they return, they are to spit out the water to show they had kept their mouths closed. Each day they are expected to run even further. It is almost like walking to us after a while. If we ever lose our horse, we can continue running to reach our destination,” he explained to her.

  Suddenly, Broken Feather stopped, and put her down, then lowering and putting his ear to the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Vanessa asked puzzled.

  “I am listening to hear if the horse is any place near.” He waved for her to be silent as he listened. Then he stood up and grabbed her up in his arms again. “I think the horse is not too far off, now. The water washed his tracks away. However, now that the ground is drying they are starting to appear again. I think he is tired, or looking for food from the looks of the tracks.”

  Now Broken Feather was trotting with Vanessa in his arms, clinging to his neck. The feel of his easy gate soothed her, and she found herself falling asleep. She realized their ordeal had sapped her strength, and couldn’t understand how Broken Feather could remain so tireless.

  “There!” he called, causing Vanessa to jerk awake. “I can see him. He is still wearing the harness!”

  Now Broken Feather was actually running, as though he had not been sprinting for, it seemed, miles.

  The horse was not moving, and when they reached it, Broken Feather discovered its reins had gotten tangled in a bush. He quickly loosened the lines, put Vanessa up on its back and swung up behind her. A moment later, they were headed back to the wagon at a gallop.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Broken Feather kept one arm around Vanessa’s waist as he urged the horse back to where they had left the wagon. He liked the way she leaned back against him, her hair flying back with the breeze, her curls mingling with the strands of his own wavy, dark hair. When they reached the wagon, he slid off the horse and lifted Vanessa down, holding her a little longer than was necessary before lowering her the rest of the way to the ground. She had felt so good in his arms when he had been carrying her. He was astounded at how light she felt, like he barely had a burden to carry. Now he feared this would be the last time he would be able to hold her, and he almost didn’t want to let her go.

  Vanessa glanced up at him, and smiled. Her hair was a tangle of uncontrollable curls about her shoulders, she had smudges on her face, and dried mud on her clothes, but to him she was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on, and nothing about her could change that in his estimation.

  “I guess we had better make up a bed in the wagon before it gets too dark,” she suggested, yet she did not pull out of his arms.

  “You seem tired,” he mumbled, as his hand started stroking her hair.

  “I am,” she said, laying her head against his chest. “I want to thank you for helping me climb the bluff, and then bringing me down safely.”

  “It is my job to watch over you,” he said, wishing he could keep that job for eternity.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, though,” she sighed.

  “I suppose there is nothing we can do about it now. Why don’t you rest while I make up the bed,” he suggested.

  “It will go faster if we both do it,” she pointed out, and finally pulled out of his arms and started grabbing up the blankets from the wagon.

  Once the blankets were situated in the wagon, some used for cushion and one to cover them with, Broken Feather lifted Vanessa up and placed her on the makeshift bed, and then began hooking the tarp back over the top of the wagon, tying it securely in case the wind whipped up again, while she removed her encrusted high-top button-up boots. Then he was crawling under the tarp and lying down beside her, after kicking off his moccasins.

  “I’m sorry that I cannot sleep at the foot of the bed,” he mumbled.

  “I would rather have you beside me,” she said softly, moving to where she could rest her head on his chest. “I don’t think I will ever feel clean again, though,” she half-smiled.

  “The first river we come to will solve that problem,” he told her.

  “I am sorry I am causing you so much trouble,” she said.

  “This is nothing,” he assured her, “and you are not any trouble.”

  “Are you planning to go back to Mexico after you take me to the ranch?”

  “I have been thinking about it.” Only he didn’t tell her that he was going to dread having to leave her behind.

  “I presume you can find yourself a wife, once you join your people again.”

  “Eventually, I suppose,” he murmured.

  “I hate having to go back to the fort and face my father. Isn’t there any way you can fix the wagon?” she asked, suddenly.

  “In the morning I will look at it and see if there is some way to repair it,” he promised.

  “I’m sorry for the mean things I have said to you, Broken Feather. You saved my life back there in the flood, helping me climb the bluff.”

  “You were very brave,” he told her.

  “First you save my father’s life and then you save mine. We owe you so much.”

  “I am not looking for a reward.”

  “I promise to try and not cause you any trouble,” she told him.

  “It wouldn’t matter if you did. I am dedicated to making sure you get to your destination safely.”

  “I’m sorry about the government breaking their promise to you and the other scouts. You deserve to have a place to call your own.”

  “It doesn’t look like that is ever going to happen,” he said glumly.

  “I wish I didn’t have to marry that rancher.”

  “I don’t think there is any way you can get out of it.”

  “Are you planning to stay there and make me do it, so you can report back to my father that you fulfilled your duty?”

  “If there was any way I could save you from it, I would,” he admitted.

  “Really?” she asked, feeling astonished by his answer.

  “I just want to see you happy. If there was a way I could make you happy, I would. Only I don’t know how I am able to do that, so you will just have to do as your father wishes.”

  “Maybe we can think of a way,” she murmured.

  “You are asking for a miracle.”

  “I know, but don’t you believe in miracles?”

  “I haven’t experienced any yet.” Only he knew he was wrong. The very fact that she was lying with her head on his chest, talking softly to him, trusting him, seemed like a miracle to him.

  “I’ll pray for one, then,” she mumbled before she finally fell asleep.

  When Vanessa woke in the morning, she was in the wagon alone. She crawled to the end of the wagon and poked her head out from under the tarp.

  Broken Feather was at the front of the wagon, and she could hear him hammering on something.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, as she crawled down from the wagon bed.

  “I found the piece to the hitch shaft,” he informed her. “Luckily, only one of them broke, and I pulled a few nails out of the wagon to nail the shaft together again, and then wrapped it with one of the broken leather lines. I brought a few tools with me just in case the wagon broke down, he smiled. Now they have come in handy. I had to cut some leather from my shirt to repair the harness, but I think it will hold good enough.”

  “You are a mighty handy person,” Vanessa smiled.

  “Why don’t you go get dressed, while I finish this up, and then we will see what we can salvage from the supplies,” he suggested.

  Seeing her half-dressed, standing before him, made his heart catch in his throat. He couldn’t help but remember how her wet pantaloons had clung to her body
, the day before, and he had to keep distracting his mind from it as they struggled through the water. She had felt so good in his arms, as they laid in the wagon, but now, in the morning light, he had to discipline his emotions, knowing that when they got to that ranch, she was going to marry some man her father had chosen for her, and he was going to have to leave her behind. He didn’t want to make it any harder than it already was, he told himself. Even if she didn’t have to marry some rancher, she could never belong to him the way he wished she could. He kept remembering her words…keep your black hands off of me…and knew she was right. He was a black Indian, and would never be accepted by society if she ever consented to be with him, which was something he knew she would never do. He knew full well it was against the law for a white person to marry an Indian, not to mention not being able to marry a black.

  Vanessa turned and opened one of her trunks. The trunk had been watertight, so nothing had gotten wet. She stood behind the wagon and pulled her dirty clothes off, dropping them on the ground, and then put on clean underclothes and a dress, but left the petticoats in the trunk, deciding they would be even more hampering added to her long dress. She fished out a brush from the trunk and started to brush the dried mud out of her hair.

  As she was doing so, she felt a hand take the brush from her hand as Broken Feather came up behind her. “Here, let me do that for you,” he said, as he started brushing her long, honey-brown curls. He just couldn’t help himself and needed the feel of her hair between his fingers.

  Then he was pulling her hair together and braiding it in a long braid down her back, as small curls sprang up around her temple. The feel of his fingers in her hair, felt soothing to Vanessa, and she was overly aware of his nearness. She thought about how comforting it had felt to sleep in his arms the night before. She had never slept in a man’s arms before. She decided she liked it. It was too bad he was a darky she thought sadly. She realized she was starting to like him, but knew that society would never accept him as her partner. Intermarriage with people of any other color than white was against the law in America. So she tried to push the thought right out of her mind. Only that heart-stopping kiss kept coming to mind to disquiet her thoughts, and haunt her soul.