White Foot gathered his wife into his arms. He gazed up at Fire Thunder. “You will send many warriors out to look for my son?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Or do you blame him still for what happened to your sister?”
White Foot looked over at Little Sparrow, then up at Fire Thunder again. “You have your sister with you again,” he said, holding his wife more closely when sobs racked her frail body. “Do not forget what our son means to us.”
“Your son neglected his duties to my sister,” Fire Thunder said, his voice gentle, yet firm. “But, no, I do not blame him to the extent that I do not still care for his welfare. I shall soon get a search party together. We shall try and find Good Bear.”
Gentle Song wrenched herself free of her husband’s embrace and reached for Fire Thunder’s hand. “Thank you,” she murmured, clasping it. “I knew that you would not want the worst for our son.” Her gaze went to Kaylene.
Kaylene looked back at her, then turned her eyes away when she saw the anguish in the depths of the woman’s eyes. She had seen it many times before when parents had come to the carnival to look for their runaway children. She recalled that her father had hid the children from these parents.
At the time, she had thought that the children had come willingly to him, to be a part of the excitement of the carnival.
She now began to wonder how wrong she might have been. Could this Kickapoo boy who was missing be back at the carnival even now, forever a part of their long journeys?
She brushed this thought aside. She did not want to believe that her father had forced the carnival life upon any children.
No, to think that would be the worst thing to think about her father, a father who was now surely dead and alone, without anyone there to bury him . . . to say words from the Bible over him. . . .
Fire Thunder eased his hand from Gentle Song’s and rode onward through the village until he came to a larger log cabin at the far end, where a stream wove like a white snake behind it.
Kaylene’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at it, thinking that in her dreams, since she was a child, she had seen herself in such a cabin as a wife, a mother, ah, with the stability she had so hungered for all of her life.
She was impressed by its size in comparison to the other lodges in the village.
But she had to remember that this man was chief and would have the best.
Again she longed not to hold a grudge against this man. He had so much to offer a woman. If only she could be that woman, she thought unhappily to herself.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young woman rush between the lodges, her eyes wide as she took quick glances at Kaylene.
Running Fawn had entered the village just in time, after having awakened and found herself in a half-drunken stupor at the far edge of the village.
Pedro must have left her there.
She felt lucky that she had awakened before her father had arrived and found her gone. Her father would have known that she had been gone the long night through.
Her tongue felt thick, and her head ached. But she did not want to go immediately to her lodge. She was intrigued by the white woman on Fire Thunder’s horse.
She was young and beautiful. She was ravishing.
But there was something quite peculiar about her being with Fire Thunder. Was she his captive?
But surely not. Fire Thunder had not brought captives home, ever. And the woman was wounded.
Running Fawn stood in the shadows of a lodge and watched as Fire Thunder lifted Kaylene from the horse.
She shifted her gaze and watched her father take Little Sparrow from his saddle.
Her eyebrow lifted when Running Fawn saw Little Sparrow run to Kaylene, take her hand, and look up at her as though she adored her.
Then Running Fawn frowned when Fire Thunder ushered both the stranger and his sister into his lodge, Running Fawn’s father taking the horses to the corral.
Running Fawn turned around and ran to her lodge. She quickly slipped her soiled dress over her head, and dressed quickly in a flounced skirt and a loose overblouse of printed cotton.
She stepped outside and was brushing her hair just as her father came toward her.
Black Hair sighed when he caught sight of his daughter standing there so innocent, so lovely. Perhaps she had obeyed him this time, he thought to himself, and had not sneaked off to be with the young Mexican men.
When he reached her, she faked a bout of coughing, to keep him from hugging her. If he got too close, she knew for certain that he would smell the stench of the tequila that she had consumed the previous night.
Black Hair walked past her, into the lodge. He laid sticks on the fire in the fireplace.
He glanced over his shoulder when Running Fawn came back inside the lodge, her black hair glistening.
“Father, who was with our chief?” she asked, busying herself preparing breakfast.
“She is his captive,” Black Hair said, yanking his buckskin shirt off.
“A . . . captive . . . ?” Running Fawn gasped. “Why, Father? Why did he bring a captive to our village?”
Black Hair took the time, before his morning bath, to explain everything to her.
Afterward, a gleam rose in Running Fawn’s dark eyes at the thought of her chief being interested in the white woman for more than her being a captive. Running Fawn saw an opportunity that might work to her advantage.
“Father, can I offer my services at Fire Thunder’s lodge?” she asked, thinking that if she could get close to this white woman, she might be able to get closer to Fire Thunder and win his favor, so that Fire Thunder would speak favorably of her to her father.
In the end, her father might grow to trust her more so she could be more free with her adventures.
If her chief spoke favorably of her, yes, surely her father would not punish her, which might alienate himself from Fire Thunder.
“What favors do you speak of?” Black Hair asked, giving his daughter an inquisitive, untrusting stare.
“I noticed that the white woman wears only night clothes and she has no shoes,” Running Fawn said as she placed a skillet over the flames. “I could offer her one of my dresses and a pair of my moccasins. I could offer her my friendship. Would not all those things please our chief?”
“And why would you be so kind to a stranger?” Black Hair asked, removing the headband from around his brow.
“For our chief, that is all,” Running Fawn said, shrugging idly.
“Perhaps it would be good for you to have something besides household duties for a father to busy your hands with,” Black Hair said, nodding. “Yes. Offer your services to our chief. I am sure he will welcome it.”
“Thank you, Father,” Running Fawn said, smiling mischievously as he left the lodge.
Kaylene was stunned that Fire Thunder would take her into his lodge and leave her there so quickly, to go with the search party to look for Good Bear.
He had left Little Sparrow there to look after her, but only because he knew that Kaylene was in no shape to travel.
He knew that she could not even attempt to escape, much less get far if she did. She was weak from the loss of blood. Too weak to even get up from the pallet of blankets by the great stone fireplace that he had set her upon before he left.
As she lay there, Kaylene looked around her to familiarize herself with the house before Fire Thunder returned. The roaring fire in the hearth seemed to be the center of the cabin, but she could see that there were doors to two other rooms as well. In this center room, the floor was of hard-packed earth, and the single window was covered with animal skin for privacy.
There were a number of comforts in the kitchen area—a cast iron stove with a reservoir where water could be heated, painted chairs around a table, and low benches with colorfully dyed cattail mats, where guests could sit and relax. She saw several wire baskets containing eggs, vegetables and herbs for cooking, and there was plenty of wood stacked near the fire.
Kaylen
e stiffened and looked toward the door when the young woman, whom she had seen earlier in the shadows of the other lodges, came into the cabin. She carried a basin of water and clothes slung over one of her arms, with moccasins held between her fingers of her right hand.
Running Fawn knelt down beside Kaylene. “I have come to bathe you and to give you clothes and moccasins to wear,” she said.
This close, Running Fawn saw just how beautiful the white woman was. Her eyes were as green as grass. Her hair matched the color of Running Fawn’s, as though she might herself be part Indian.
“Go away,” Kaylene said, trying to scoot back from Running Fawn. “I don’t want a bath. I don’t want your clothes. I don’t want to be here.”
Then Kaylene reached suddenly and grabbed Running Fawn by an arm. “Help me to escape,” she blurted out. “I am not strong enough to do it alone. Please get me a horse. Help me mount it.”
Running Fawn set the moccasins and the water basin down on the floor, then gently eased Kaylene’s hand from her arm. “You are here because my chief wants you here,” she murmured. She lifted the skirt and blouse from her arm and lay them beside Kaylene. “I would never go against my chief’s wishes.”
She reached a hand to Kaylene’s hair. “So beautiful,” she said, then flinched when Kaylene slapped her hand away.
Running Fawn then stared at the bandage. “How did you become injured?” she asked, her eyes innocently wide, as though she truly did not know. Her father had explained everything to her, even how Fire Thunder’s knife had mistakenly sank into this woman’s shoulder.
“That’s none of your business,” Kaylene said, turning on her side away from Running Fawn. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want anything from you if you can’t help me escape.”
“I want to be your friend,” Running Fawn said, her voice low and sympathetic. “Allow it, please? It will benefit you to have a friend in our village.”
“I need no one,” Kaylene said, though knowing that she cherished Little Sparrow’s friendship. Theirs was a bond that no one would sever, even if Kaylene managed to escape. She would always remember the sweet goodness of the small deaf-mute Kickapoo child.
“I saw how you and Little Sparrow showed friendship toward one another,” Running Fawn said, watching for Kaylene’s reaction. “If you would have a small child’s friendship, why not mine?”
Kaylene began to see an advantage in the friendship that the pretty woman offered. Perhaps the woman had no other friends if she needed Kaylene’s friendship so desperately. Such a friendship could work to her advantage. If she gave her friendship and then threatened to take it away from the woman, perhaps the woman would do anything to keep from losing it.
Kaylene turned slowly over and faced Running Fawn. “What is your name?” she asked softly.
“I am Running Fawn, the daughter of Black Hair,” Running Fawn said, her eyes suddenly dancing when she realized that perhaps this white woman was going to be receptive to her after all.
“Black Hair?” Kaylene said, eyes widening. “Fire Thunder’s warrior friend?”
“Yes, he is my father,” Running Fawn said, lowering a cloth in the basin of warm water. She smiled at Kaylene. “It would so please my chief, if when he returned, you were freshly bathed and clothed. It would please me if I could tell him that I am responsible.”
Kaylene looked down at herself, at her soiled gown, and then at the ripped sleeve where blood was caked to it.
She felt itchy from not having a bath. And she knew that she might even feel better, mentally, if she smelled and looked clean.
“I do need bathing,” she conceded, smiling awkwardly at Running Fawn. “But I would rather do it myself.”
“You cannot, not with your injured shoulder,” Running Fawn said, staring at the bandage. Then she gazed at Kaylene’s face as she managed to move into a sitting position. “We are both women,” she murmured. “What would it matter if I saw you unclothed?”
“I have never made it a practice to undress in front of anyone, even my mother,” Kaylene said. She sighed with pain as she tried to lift her arm to prove that she could care for herself.
“Do you see?” Running Fawn said softly. “You are not well enough to bathe yourself. Let me remove your soiled gown. Let me wash you. Then I will help you put on my blouse and skirt. You may want to wait until later to put on the moccasins, when you are able to get up and walk around. It is warm enough in the cabin for you to go without shoes. Fire Thunder’s fire is kept burning both day and night, even when he is not here to see to it. There are those of my people who see to his needs. After he has a wife, then things will change somewhat.”
The mention of a wife sent Kaylene’s eyes quickly to Running Fawn. “He has never had a wife?” she asked warily.
“No, never,” Running Fawn said, dropping the wet cloth into the water again. She placed her fingers at the hem of Kaylene’s gown and slowly lifted it up over her head. “He has been too busy with the duties of chief. No woman has interested him enough.”
Running Fawn lay the gown aside and gazed intently into Kaylene’s eyes. “But perhaps that has changed?” she murmured. “He would not bring a captive into his private lodge unless . . . unless he has feelings for her.”
Kaylene’s face heated with a blush. She looked away from Running Fawn.
She sat quietly as Running Fawn bathed her, then stiffened when Running Fawn placed a finger to her chin and turned her eyes to meet hers.
“You did not tell me your name,” she said.
“Kaylene,” she said, not offering her last name.
“That is a pretty name,” Running Fawn said, placing the cloth back into the water.
“Thank you,” Kaylene said softly, glad to have her nudity covered with a skirt and blouse. The skirt was made with four flounces. The blouse was a loose overblouse of solid blue cotton. Both the skirt and blouse were embellished with rickrack of a contrasting color.
“You feel better now?” Running Fawn said, rising to carry the basin of water toward the door.
“Yes, much,” Kaylene said, her fingers going to her hair. She shuddered when she felt how tangled it was. “But I would feel much better if I had a brush for my hair.”
She felt that it was strange that Running Fawn gave her a strained sort of look at that request. Then she went to the door and pitched the water outside, as though Kaylene hadn’t asked for anything.
“Truly, I would love to have a brush for my hair,” Kaylene said as Running Fawn came back to her and knelt down behind her. She could feel Running Fawn stroking her fingers through her long, waist-length hair. “That won’t be enough, Running Fawn. Please go and get me a brush.”
Still the request was ignored.
“I am arranging your hair in one long braid down your back,” Running Fawn said softly. “I shall take the ribbon from my hair and tie it around your braid. That will make you lovely enough. Do you not think so?”
“I doubt anyone would say that I look lovely right now, with my shoulder bandaged and my hair in need of a brushing,” Kaylene argued.
Running Fawn leaned around, closer to Kaylene’s face than before. “You are beautiful even without a bath or pretty clothes,” she said, giving Kaylene a friendly, sincere smile.
Kaylene looked quickly at Running Fawn, quite aware of the stench of tequila on the young woman’s breath. Running Fawn had not gotten close enough until now for her to smell it.
No one could fool Kaylene where the stench of alcohol of any kind was concerned. Her father had been drunk way too often these past several years.
“Do your people accept the practice of drinking alcohol?” Kaylene asked guardedly.
She wished she hadn’t said anything when she saw the instant fear leap into Running Fawn’s dark eyes.
“Why . . . do . . . you ask?” Running Fawn said, leaning slowly away from Kaylene, after securing the bow at the end of her braid.
“Oh, nothing,” Kaylene said, not want
ing to pursue this any further.
“You smell it on my breath, do you not?” Running Fawn said, covering her mouth with a hand.
“Well, yes,” Kaylene answered.
Running Fawn moved around in front of Kaylene. “Oh, I beg you not to tell,” she cried. Kneeling, she clutched at one of Kaylene’s hands. “It is not the practice of my people to drink freely of firewater. I . . . was . . . with friends last night. I . . . should not have followed their lead as they consumed way too much tequila. But I did. I may have even consumed more than they.”
“I won’t tell,” Kaylene said softly.
“It will be our secret as friends?” Running Fawn begged.
“Yes, our secret,” Kaylene said.
Running Fawn gently hugged her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Anytime you wish to share a secret with me, I shall listen and not tell a soul.”
Little Sparrow came suddenly into the cabin, carrying a black pot.
She stopped, startled, when she found Running Fawn and Kaylene in an embrace. She was stunned to see that Kaylene made friends this easily, especially with someone like Running Fawn. That seemed to make the friendship Little Sparrow had found with Kaylene less important—perhaps less sincere.
Running Fawn rushed to her feet. Her eyes locked momentarily with Little Sparrow’s, then she brushed past her and left.
Little Sparrow went and placed the pot of food on the hearth close to Kaylene. She turned and stared at Kaylene, then bent to her knees and hugged her.
Kaylene felt a strange sort of desperation in Little Sparrow’s hug. She knew it had to do with her having seen Running Fawn hugging her.
Kaylene returned the hug. Then with her free hand, she eased Little Sparrow away from her. Slowly she spoke the word “friends” to Little Sparrow so that she could read her lips. She placed her hand over her heart and then placed the same hand over Little Sparrow’s heart.
Little Sparrow broke into a wide grin and nodded. She mouthed the word “friend.”
She then frowned toward the door, and looked at Kaylene once again. She mouthed the words “ugly person” to Kaylene, and Kaylene knew those words were meant to describe Running Fawn.
Wild Whispers Page 9
