by Vivi Holt
“But how? The chief would never allow you to do this. Does he know what you’ve done?” Sarah felt a new wave of fear sweep over her.
He crouched down beside her, and lay a hand on her shoulder. His eyes were warm, and met hers with an unblinking gaze.
“Mutagaweer is dead,” he said.
“What?” she gasped. “How?”
“He was shot by the white man, during our hunt. I’m sorry to bring you this news, Sarah.”
He stood to his feet again, and strode over to where the ponies were grazing, leading them back to where Sarah lay.
She covered her face with both hands, and cried into them. Mutagaweer was dead. He’d been a good man, and she’d loved him. He’d always taken care of her, and made sure she was protected. She’d been angry at him for wanting to marry her off to a soldier at the Fort, but even then he’d no doubt believed it was what was best for her and for the Apasaalooke.
She patted her skirts, and found a handkerchief in one of her pockets. Pulling it free, she blew her nose loudly into the flannel, then closed her eyes, working to calm her breathing. If the chief was dead, then it was likely Bow Bearer was now the chief, which meant he could do as he pleased. Not one of her friends of relatives would stand against the chief on her behalf. Sarah knew then, that she’d have to find a way herself — she’d have to make an appeal to Bow Bearer. Otherwise, she’d never see home again.
Chapter Six
Cora watched as Genevieve stood to her feet and lay her coffee cup on the side table with a yawn. Supper was finished, and they were all tired after a long day on their feet.
Hannah’s coffee grew cold beside her. “Dear me, where is Sarah? She said she was going to help me with this cross stitch,” she said, with a grimace as she pricked her finger for the third time.
“She did say she was tired earlier,” suggested Cora, swiveling her head around in search of Sarah.
Genevieve frowned. “I’m going to check on her over at the bunk house. She took the soup over there ages ago. She should’ve been back by now.”
Genevieve wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and headed outside. Before long she was back, with a worried expression on her pretty face.
“She’s not over there. And Cookie said she only stayed with them a few minutes.”
“Maybe she went to lay down with Will,” suggested Hannah, “I’ll go and see.”
Hannah hurried from the room, and Cora could sense Genevieve’s growing anxiety. “She’s probably just resting. Don’t fret just yet,” she said.
When Hannah returned with a shrug of her shoulders, Genevieve drew a deep, slow breath. “Well, the only other place to look now is the cottage. But why would she have gone back there on her own?”
“Maybe she forgot something she needed,” said Cora. “I’ll go see if Ost will ride down there.”
Cora ran out the front door without grabbing a coat or shawl. A cold wind bit into her exposed flesh, and she shivered as she stumbled through the dark yard to the bunk house. When she burst through the door, Ost and Cookie looked at her with raised eyebrows, the same question on both their minds.
Cora shook her head, no, and Cookie drew in a sharp breath.
“Ost, could you please ride down to the Hanover cottage to see if she went there?” asked Cora, breathing hard against her tight bodice.
He nodded, and hurried outside.
“Where else could she be?” she asked.
Cookie shook his head. “Maybe she went down ta the barn ta see the ‘osses. But it don’t seem likely to me. She never did that at night, far as I know.”
“Well, let’s look everywhere,” said Cora, wiping a stray strand of hair from her eyes and tucking it behind one ear.
“Will do,” said Cookie. He followed Ost outside, and Cora ran back to the house. She’d search every room before she panicked. If Sarah wasn’t found in the house, barn or cottage — then she’d let herself worry.
***
When he reached the ranch house, Dusty could tell immediately something was amiss. It was quiet — too quiet. He’d seen the other men leave the barn before him, and knew at least Thomas and Bill would have headed straight for the house to see Genevieve, Sarah and Will.
He closed the front door silently behind himself, and wiped his boots on the mat. After hanging his coat and hat on the coat rack, he walked slowly toward the den. He found them all in the den. They were sitting and standing around the room in silence. The only sound came from Hannah, who sobbed quietly into a handkerchief.
Cora looked up at him as he entered, and he saw her face was drawn and her eyes red. What was going on?
He hurried to her side, and lay a hand on her shoulder. “What’s happened?” he asked softly.
“We can’t find Sarah,” she replied.
“What do you mean, you can’t find her. She’s probably just down at the cottage or off huntin’ or some such. She does it all the time.”
Bill faced him, and ran a hand over his mustache and down his beard. “No, she’s been gone all night, Dusty. She wouldn’t do that. She’s ‘bout ready to burst, for one thing, and there’s Will — she wouldn’t leave him like that.”
Dusty blanched. All night? Something must have happened to her. Bill was right, she wouldn’t leave Will for that long. Dusty had known her for years, and one thing he was certain of — she was completely devoted to her little boy.
“We’ve looked everywhere — the cottage, the barn, along the river, even her usual huntin’ grounds,” said Cookie. “There ain’t no sign of ‘er.”
“Ya might ‘ave already covered this, before I got here, but can ya tell me what ‘appened?” asked Dusty. “When did she go missin’?
Genevieve, Cora and Hannah quickly filled him in on all that had transpired the previous evening. Each weaving together the pieces of the story, and sobbing in turn. When they’d finished, Bill strode to the door. “I’m gonna ‘ave a look around for myself. See what I can find. Maybe ya missed somethin’.”
“I’ll come with ya,” added Dusty, following him out.
Thomas and Vacquero came too. Cookie, Ost and Dan stepped onto the porch to stand guard. They didn’t know what had happened to Sarah, but it made sense to be on alert.
Dusty ran to the barn, his legs still aching from the mad ride chasing the cattle rustlers. He saddled a roan mare, and galloped to the river. If Sarah had taken a walk along the riverbank her footprints might still be fresh there. The ground was soft, and it hadn’t rained. It was a long shot, considering the likelihood that she’d stroll down to the river by herself at night. Still, he had to do something.
He dismounted, and looped the roan’s reins around a sapling hemlock tree. Then, stepped lightly along the riverbank, his eyes fixed on the earth, noting any slight indentations, broken twigs, manure… anything that might indicate Sarah had been there.
That’s when he saw them — the hoof prints of two small ponies. Unshod hooves. There were a heap of them around a patch of bushes, as though the horses had stayed there a while. He circled the bushes, and discovered human footprints. One set were large, and pressed firmly into the ground in a softly rounded shape. The other were small, shaped like a woman’s boot, and left a lighter impression.
It had to be Sarah’s footprints there. According to what the women had said, none of them had ventured this far in their search for her. Only Cookie and Ost had come down to the river, he’d seen their prints further upstream. No, these prints must belong to Sarah. But who did the other prints belong to? He knew what his instincts were telling him, but hoped it wasn’t true. Unshod hooves, and a set of large, rounded foot prints usually meant one thing. Indians.
Chapter Seven
The Apasaalooke camp was still sleeping when Sarah and Bow Bearer arrived after their night long gallop south through Paradise Valley, then east. Overcome with exhaustion and pain, Sarah bounced loosely on the pony’s thin back, her head lolling from side to side. Bow Bearer dismounted, then reached to lift he
r down beside him. She caught a glimpse of his face through the drooping slits of her eyelids, and thought she saw concern there. Then her eyes closed, and everything went black.
When she finally awoke, she found herself alone inside a wikiup. She was laid out flat on a buffalo hide, and every part of her body screamed with pain and discomfort. Her abdomen was heavy, and her stomach queasy. She rolled immediately onto her left side, and sighed with relief as the queasiness abated.
She didn’t have to wonder where she was — she was in Bow Bearer’s wikiup. The Apasaalooke camp moved frequently, but they favored certain locations, and she’d recognized this one from her brief glimpse before she passed out. They were by a stream, in a camp they called the White One. Named for the dazzling array of white wildflowers that graced the hollow in the spring time.
There were no white flowers on display now though, since winter was fast approaching. Instead, everything looked bleak, though the wikiup itself was cozy from the fire blazing in the center of the large tent. Smoke drifted up through a flap in the roof around the center pole, and she counted two dozen sleeping mats lining the outer walls. Many of the wikiups in the camp were even larger, but Bow Bearer rarely allowed more than his immediate family to reside in his tent, and now it looked as though he planned to include Sarah in that circle.
She groaned, and pushed herself into a seated position, with one hand clutching her swollen belly. Another heave had her on her feet, and she stumbled to the loose bison hides that served as a doorway to peer out. The camp was awake now, and breakfast well underway. People sat in circles around open fire pits, eating pemmican, or stew made from bison meat and prairie turnips.
Sarah’s mouth watered as the aroma of campfire smoke and good food washed over her. Even though she was furious with Bow Bearer, exhausted from their ride, in agony, and anxious to return home, she couldn’t ignore that she was carrying a small life inside her, and needed food to sustain it. Her stomach growled with hunger, and another wave of nausea accompanied the grumbling.
She waddled from the wikiup, and squatted beside an old woman named Strong Heart, who was known for her rude, abrupt manner and rarely had two words to say to anyone. She shot Sarah a look of surprise and disdain, then turned her attention back to her food.
“Sarah, you’re back,” came a friendly voice from across the fire.
A young mother only a few years older than Sarah, named Black Tongue, made her way around to sit beside Sarah with a baby on her hip.
“When did you get back?” she asked. “I didn’t think we’d ever see you again.” She embraced Sarah, and lay her cheek against Sarah’s for a few moments.
Sarah felt a rush of fondness for Black Tongue and her Apsaalooke friends, and was glad that not everyone seemed to share Bow Bearer’s anger with her for disappearing the way she did.
“Black Tongue, it’s good to see you again. I came last night. Bow Bearer brought me,” said Sarah.
“Oh,” responded Black Tongue, obviously confused. “Are you staying?”
“No,” said Sarah. “I’m just visiting.”
“Here then, have some stew. I’ll bring you a little Pemmican as well, I recall it was your favorite.”
“Thank you,” said Sarah. She took the bowl of stew offered her, and immediately dug into it, relishing the deep flavors of the herbs and the tang of the turnips.
Black Tongue stood to leave, and it was then Sarah noticed Ky. Her friend strode toward her with a wide grin on her face, and tears glistening in her eyes.
“Sarah!” she exclaimed, squatting beside her friend and folding her arms around Sarah’s shoulders in a tight embrace. “You’re here! I’m so glad to see you. Are you feeling well?”
She pulled back, and looked with concern into Sarah’s eyes.
“I’m as well as can be expected. Did you know Bow Bearer was going to bring me here?” asked Sarah, taking another bite of stew.
Ky sat down, and her eyes drifted to the fire. “I suppose I guessed he might do something like this when Father died.”
Sarah lay a hand on Ky’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your Father, Ky. He was a good man, a good leader for our people. I will miss him.”
“Thank you Sarah. I miss him already.” Ky’s eyes met hers, and Sarah saw the grief that lingered there. “So, what will you do?”
“I don’t know what to do,” began Sarah, her throat tightening with emotion. “I’m about to have this baby, so I can’t run for the hills. Bill and William will be wondering where I am. I have to get back to them. Will you help me Ky?”
Ky squeezed her eyes shut tight, and ran a hand over her short-cropped hair. “Sarah, you know I can’t go against Bow Bearer. He was made chief just last week. There’s nothing I can do — I’ll talk to him though. See if I can get him to change his mind.”
Sarah laughed, a high pitched hysterical sound that echoed through the valley. “Change his mind? He won’t change his mind — you know that. And since when do you care about upsetting the chief?”
“Since the chief is no longer my father. Sarah, you said it yourself, there’s not much you can do right now. You just have to focus on keeping you and the baby safe and healthy. Eat some food, get some rest, and I’ll talk to Bow Bearer and the elders. Maybe I’ll be able to get through to them. At least I’ll do my best.”
Sarah nodded.
Ky stood, squeezed Sarah’s shoulder and walked away. Sarah followed with her eyes, and saw Ky approach a camp fire where Bow Bearer and the elders were seated, talking and eating together. Her heart shuddered at the sight of the man who’d pulled her from her home, and dragged her across country on horse back. Ky said something to him, and he stood to face her with his arms folded in front of him. He shook his head, and responded. Then Ky shouted something at him, and he looked toward Sarah. His eyes met hers, and her heart skittered. He said something else to Ky. Then, made his way over to where Sarah sat. Blood rushed through her head, and her palms were cold with sweat. She rubbed them down the length of her skirts, trying to calm her racing heart.
“Sarah, you’re awake. I trust you slept well?” he asked. His dark eyes were full of compassion, and Sarah’s head swam with fatigue and confusion.
She nodded. She knew she had to keep him onside. If she angered him, she’d get nowhere. “Yes, Bow Bearer. Only it’s time I returned home to my family. I believe it won’t be long until the little one arrives, and I want to be home for that.”
His eyes clouded over. “This is your home Sarah. You’ll stay here to have the child, and I have spoken with the elders and agreed to be father to your baby after we’re married. We marry later today.”
“No!” shouted Sarah. She stood to her feet to face him, and he towered over her with his hands clenched by his sides. “You won’t be a father to my baby, Bill is the father. And I won’t marry you. I can’t stay here with you, it’s not my home any longer. You can’t make me do it — you can’t make me stay. I demand to be allowed to leave!”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t speak to me that way again,” he hissed. “I am your chief, and will soon be your husband, and you will show me respect. And furthermore, you won’t leave. You can’t walk home, I won’t give you a pony and neither will anyone else here. The sooner you accept the way things are, the sooner you’ll be content. That period in your life is over. You are home again, and it’s here you’ll stay.” His face showed no emotion, but she could sense his anger rippling beneath the surface.
She breathed a long slow breath, as tears slipped down her cheeks. Just as she was about to say more, a cramp gripped her abdomen, and her muscles tightened in response. Her eyes widened, and realization dawned like dread in the pit of her stomach. She was going into labor.
***
After galloping back to the barn, Dusty found Bill searching around the building for any sign of Sarah.
“Bill, I found something,” he cried, leaping from his horse’s back to run to Bill.
Bill’s face was etched with a
nxiety, and his eyes shadowed with dark circles.
“What? What is it?” he asked.
“I found some tracks down by the riverbank — two ponies, unshod, and two sets of human prints. It looked like Indian prints, and a woman’s boots.”
Bill blanched, and his hands flew to his face. “Bow Bearer,” he growled. “I knew this would happen. I’d hoped I was wrong, but I knew it.”
“What? What’s happened? Who’s Bow Bearer?” asked Dusty, with a frown.
“He’s an old friend of Sarah’s — he wanted to marry her, and take her back to the Apsaalooke camp. She told me not to worry, that the chief would make sure he didn’t do anything foolish — but it seems he’s done it anyway. I knew I should have listened to my instincts, and now she’s gone.”
He slumped to the ground, and sat with his elbows on his knees, holding his head between his hands.
“They have a head-start, that’s true. But we can probably track them a good ways. The weather’s fine, and with Sarah as pregnant as she is they couldn’t get too far,” suggested Dusty.
Bill looked up, his eyes darkening. “Let’s go then!”
He jumped to his feet and the two men ran into the barn to saddle fresh horses.
***
Cora looped the yarn over the crochet needle and made a slip knot. She tightened the loop, and the pale yellow yarn fell away in a long string down to the ball of yarn that perched beside her on the horsehair settee. Will sat at her feet, a small wooden wagon in his hands He drove it up and down the leg of the settee, over her feet, and back again, crying out to the imaginary horses to ‘hiya’, and ‘woah’.
She wondered how Laura had fared teaching her class that day. She was grateful she’d thought to ask Laura to fill in for her this week. She hoped everything had gone smoothly in her absence.
Genevieve sat in the armchair beside her, worrying a cup of coffee around and around between her hands. Her face was pale, and there was a permanent frown etched across her forehead.
