Feather in the Wind

by Madeline Baker

  Dismounting, Tate Sapa lifted Susannah from the back of her horse.

  “Where are your chiefs?” O’Neill asked. “Why didn’t they come with you?”

  “They sent me in their place. I will carry your words back to them.”

  “I see.”

  It was obvious to Susannah that O’Neill was upset by the news, but he covered it well. “You’re just in time for dinner,” he said. “Maxwell, Wilkinson, see to their horses.”

  Two troopers stepped forward and led the horses away.

  Susannah kept her head down as she followed Black Wind into a large tent. The other warriors followed. Three soldiers brought up the rear.

  A table large enough to seat six people occupied the center of the tent. “Please, sit down.” The colonel gestured to one of the chairs.

  Tate Sapa glanced around the tent, then sat down in the chair that faced the entrance. He placed his rifle on the ground, within easy reach. Susannah stood to his left, the warriors to his right.

  O’Neill looked at Susannah. “Please, have a seat.”

  She did so reluctantly, afraid to refuse for fear of drawing undue attention to herself. Thus far, she didn’t think the colonel had really paid her any mind.

  “Do your braves also speak English?” O’Neill asked.

  “No.”

  “Tell them to join us.”

  “They prefer to stand.”

  O’Neill looked momentarily taken aback, then he shrugged and took a seat across from Tate Sapa. Minutes later, the Colonel’s striker entered the tent bearing a large tray. The scent of venison filled the air when the striker removed the tray’s cover, revealing a half-dozen thick steaks and all the trimmings.

  Susannah couldn’t help being impressed with how well the colonel ate, even out in the middle of nowhere.

  The colonel’s striker served the food, then left the tent. It was a silent meal. Susannah could feel the tension coming off Black Wind and the warriors in waves.

  The warriors ate standing up. Ignoring the silverware, they ate with their knives. They glanced repeatedly at the tent flap, making her wonder if they expected to be attacked. And then she remembered that such things had happened frequently in the past. Indians had often been invited to meet with the Army. Some had been poisoned. Some had been shot. Perhaps they were right to be cautious.

  Susannah slid a glance at Black Wind, wondering if he had ever eaten a meal at a table before. And then she realized that he was watching her from the corner of his eye, observing how she used her knife and fork.

  Colonel O’Neill did not offer his men anything to eat. They stood at attention to one side of the tent door, their gazes fixed on the tent wall.

  When the meal was over and the dishes cleared away, O’Neill filled a pipe and offered it to Tate Sapa, who took a puff and passed it to one of his men. When all the men had smoked, the colonel put the pipe away.

  “Now, then,” he said brusquely, “let’s get down to business. You understand, business?”

  “I understand,” Tate Sapa replied, his voice equally curt.

  “Good. I came here today to establish peace with your people.”

  “The Lakota are at peace,” Tate Sapa replied evenly.

  O’Neill nodded. “Yes, of course, but we want your assurances that our people will not be attacked for crossing your land. More and more settlers are arriving every day. Your people must stop attacking the wagon trains. The settlers must be allowed safe passage to the West.”

  “My people have attacked no settlers.”

  O’Neill looked skeptical. “Two wagon trains were attacked in the last month. The people were massacred, their stock stolen, the wagons burned.”

  “I cannot speak for the other tribes. Nor can I blame them for defending their hunting grounds.”

  A dark-red flush stained the colonel’s cheeks. “Be that as it may, I want your words that your people will not attack the settlers.”

  “And do I have your word in return that they will not hunt in our territory, or attack our village?”

  “Well, you can’t expect them not to hunt,” O’Neill replied. “They’ve got to eat.”

  “The buffalo herds are growing smaller. The wasichu kill more than they need, and leave what they do not want to rot in the sun. They cross the plains with their noisy wagons and chase away the game. They muddy the water and dig in the earth for yellow iron. These things must stop.”

  “See here, you can’t lay claim to the plains in their entirety.”

  “This is our land. We will allow you to cross it if you do not take from it what is not yours.”

  Anger flickered in the colonel’s gray eyes. He stared hard at Tate Sapa. “I thought you came here to speak for peace.”

  Tate Sapa nodded. “It is my wish that my people be allowed to live as they have always lived. We want nothing you have. All we ask is that you do not take what is ours.”

  O’Neill blew out a deep breath, then stood up. “I think we should discuss this again tomorrow, after we’ve all had a good night’s sleep.”

  Tate Sapa stood up. “There is nothing more to discuss.”

  “I think there is, when heads are cooler.” O’Neill smiled, but Susannah thought it looked rather forced. “Please, stay here and rest. Is there anything you need?”

  Tate Sapa shook his head.

  “Very well.” With a curt nod, O’Neill stalked out of the tent, followed by his men.

  “You were right, Su-san-nah,” Tate Sapa said. “We should not have come here.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “We are leaving this place. I will tell our chiefs to be prepared to fight. It is what the wasichu want. They do not want peace. They want our land, and they will not rest until they have it.”

  “There must be another way,” Susannah said, but she knew what he said was true. The government and the settlers would drive the Indians from their lands, pen them on reservations. Crooked Indian agents would steal their food allotments and swindle them out of reservation land, as well. She wished she knew how to change history, wished there was something she could do to make the future better for the Lakota, but she was powerless to help. The fate of the Indians had been sealed long before she was born.

  She listened while Black Wind spoke to his warriors. They nodded, their faces dark with anger, as he told them what the colonel had said.

  “Come,” Black Wind said, taking up his rifle. “We go.”

  Darkness had fallen. Small campfires glowed like fireflies.

  Susannah stayed close to Black Wind as they started toward the horses, which had been tethered near the Army mounts.

  “Hey, there, where do you think you’re going?”

  Tate Sapa turned around. “We are leaving.”

  “I don’t think so,” the soldier said, lifting his rifle. “Colonel wants to talk some more.”

  “We are through talking.”

  “Drop your weapons. Hackett, go get the colonel.”

  Susannah was standing close to Black Wind. She could feel the tension radiating from him as he glanced around the camp. Several soldiers had risen to their feet. All were armed, their expressions hostile. She had the feeling they were just itching for a reason to shoot.

  A moment later, Colonel O’Neill was striding toward them.

  “One of my men tells me you want to leave. Is this true?”

  Tate Sapa nodded. “There is nothing more to discuss.”

  “I’m afraid I must insist you stay.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  The colonel smiled. It was a cold smile, one that did not reach his eyes. “I don’t think you want to do that, now do you?”

  Tate Sapa’s hands tightened on his rifle as a dozen soldiers gathered around them, circling like wolves around a kill.

  “Why don’t we all go back into the tent and see if we can’t reach an understanding.”

  “You have made your feelings quite clear,” Tate Sapa replied. “As always, the whit
e man wants everything his way, and will do whatever is necessary to obtain it.”

  “Now, now, we’re willing to give your people food and blankets in return for their guarantee not to harass the settlers.”

  “I know of other tribes who have made treaties with the whites. Their people went cold, their young ones starved to death, while waiting for blankets and food that never came.”

  O’Neill stiffened. “Occasionally that happens.”

  “Occasionally? Every tribe that deals with the white man loses his freedom and ends up on the reservation. I will not let that happen to my people.”

  “Have I said anything about the reservation?”

  “Not yet.”

  Susannah kept her head lowered, watching the confrontation from the corner of her eye. She felt a wave of apprehension as O’Neill stared at her. Recognition came slowly. “Ah, Miss Kingston, I believe.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Susannah looked up.

  “I thought it was you,” O’Neill remarked, looking pleased. “I knew you were a traitor. Take her to my tent.”

  “No. She is my woman and under my protection.”

  “She is a traitor and will be dealt with as such.”

  Susannah cried out as one of the soldiers reached for her.

  Tate Sapa reacted instinctively. Lifting his rifle, he sighted down the barrel and fired at the man who was trying to drag Susannah away.

  With a cry, the man dropped Susannah’s arm and crumpled to the ground, his hands clutching his shoulder. Immediately, every soldier in the vicinity was in the fray. Two men grabbed Susannah and hauled her toward the colonel’s tent. Shoving her inside, they warned her to stay put, then shut the door flap.

  The sound of gunshots made Susannah cringe with fear. She heard shouting, the high-pitched yelp of a man in pain, hoofbeats, and then everything grew still.

  She was pacing the tent, her concern for Black Wind’s safety growing by the second, when O’Neill entered the tent.

  “Where is he?” she asked. “Where’s Black Wind?”

  “He escaped.”

  “And the others?”

  “Two are dead. We have one in custody. The other one got away, but we’ll get him.”

  Susannah closed her eyes as relief washed over her. Thank God, Black Wind was safe. “What happens now?”

  “We’ll be leaving for the fort in the morning.” O’Neill stared at her, his eyes filled with disdain. “You may consider yourself under arrest for treason.”

  “Treason!”

  “Consorting with the enemy. Spying.” O’Neill nodded, his expression smug. “We are at war, Miss Kingston. I shouldn’t like to be in your shoes.”

  “I’m not a spy!”

  “I think you are. Captain McCarin told me you stayed with the Indians when you had a chance to return to your own people. I warn you, don’t try to escape. Spies are shot.”

  Shot! Susannah blinked at him, her arms folding protectively over her abdomen. Shot… Before she could collect her thoughts enough to speak, the colonel was gone.

  She sat down in one of the chairs, afraid her legs would no longer support her. They thought she was a spy. It was incredible, would have been laughable, if she weren’t so frightened, not only for herself, but for the future of her unborn child.

  Surely Black Wind wouldn’t let them take her back to the fort, and yet what could he do? He was outnumbered fifty to one.

  Thoroughly discouraged, she folded her arms on the table, put her head down and cried.

  * * * * *

  The Army broke camp first thing the following morning. There was no doubt in Susannah’s mind that she was a prisoner, as much as the wounded warrior who rode beside her, even though her hands weren’t tied behind her back, as his were. Tonkalla had been shot in the shoulder. A bloody bandage was wrapped over the wound. A soldier led his mount.

  The men who had gone after Black Wind the day before had returned empty-handed. Black Wind, at least, had gotten away unscathed.

  Susannah slid a glance at the soldiers riding beside her. They were looking straight ahead, but she was aware of their scorn, their derision. They thought she was an Indian lover, a spy. She had no doubt they would shoot her down without a qualm if she tried to escape.

  As the day wore on, she found herself searching the countryside, looking for Black Wind. She couldn’t believe that he would go off and leave her, yet there was no place for him to hide, no way he could follow her without being seen.

  As the miles went by, she became more and more convinced that he had gone back to the village.

  It was near dusk when the Army made camp for the night. They would reach the fort tomorrow. And then what, Susannah wondered as she watched the men set up the colonel’s tent. Would she get a trial, or would they just lock her up in the guardhouse and throw away the key?

  She thought of the small iron-barred cell where Black Wind had been held prisoner and tried to imagine herself living there for the rest of her life.

  It was full dark by the time the soldiers had set up camp. One of the men handed her a tin plate of bacon and beans and a cup of coffee.

  Susannah stared at the greasy mess and thought she might throw up. The coffee was hot and black and bitter.

  She put the plate and the cup aside and wished, futilely and fleetingly, for a cup of hot chocolate smothered in whipped crème.

  One of the soldiers, an older man with a slight paunch and graying hair, escorted her into the shadows so she could relieve herself. Susannah thought she would die of embarrassment as she squatted in the bushes, knowing an armed man stood only a few feet away.

  When they returned to the campfire, she wrapped herself in the blanket that had been given to her, lay down and closed her eyes.

  She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep. She could hear the men talking softly, the crackle of the flames, snores coming from the men who had turned in for the night, horses stamping their feet, the howl of a coyote. Whoever had written praises to the quiet of the prairie night had obviously never slept under the stars with fifty snoring men, fifty restless horses and a lonely coyote!

  She was drifting in that nether world between wakefulness and sleep when a hand dropped over her mouth. She came awake instantly, her heart in her throat.

  “Su-san-nah, it’s me.”

  She turned her head and saw Black Wind lying belly down on the ground beside her. His face and chest were smeared with dirt so that he seemed to be a part of the earth itself.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  Susannah glanced over her shoulder. All the men were sleeping. The two men standing guard were standing at the far end of the camp, sharing a cigarette. She could see the tip glow as one of the men inhaled.

  Moving as silently as she could, she crawled after Black Wind, certain that, at any moment, one of the sentries would shout for her to stop.

  She followed Black Wind for what seemed like miles, scraping her elbows and knees on the ground, certain every living creature within a hundred miles could hear her moving through the thick yellow grass, could hear the beat of her heart, echoing like thunder in her ears.

  Just when she thought they were going to crawl through the night forever, Black Wind slipped over the edge of a depression in the ground. When he reached the bottom, he stood up. Turning, he helped Susannah to her feet, then lifted her onto the back of his horse, which was tethered to a clump of sagebrush.

  Untying the reins, he handed them to Susannah, then vaulted up behind her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, fine. Hurry, let’s get out of here.”

  “I do not like to leave Tonkalla behind,” Tate Sapa said quietly.

  “Maybe you should go back and get him.”

  Slowly, Tate Sapa shook his head. The soldiers had let Susannah bed down apart from the others so she could have a little privacy, but they had shackled Tonkalla to the supply wagon. There was no way to get to his old friend without being seen, no way to remo
ve the iron cuffs.

  And then there was no time for thought.

  Susannah glanced over her shoulder as the sound of hoofbeats filled the silence of the night.

  She heard Black Wind mutter something in Lakota, and then they were riding through the darkness.

  Susannah couldn’t help thinking that, if he’d been alone, Black Wind would have been able to outrun his pursuers easily. As it was, with his horse carrying double, she knew it was only a matter of time before the Army overtook them.

  Black Wind urged his horse faster, increasing their lead. When they reached a rocky outcropping surrounded by a tangled mass of brush, he reined the horse to a halt. Dismounting, he pulled Susannah from the back of the horse. Lifting his rifle, he smacked the horse across the rump with the rifle butt; then, grabbing Susannah by the hand, he headed for the cover of the rocks.

  She was breathless by the time they took shelter behind a large boulder. Frightened, hardly able to draw breath, she crouched beside Black Wind, waiting to hear the shout that would mean their hiding place had been discovered.

  She could feel the tension radiating off Black Wind like summer heat off city streets as he peered over the top of the boulder, and then, miraculously, she felt him relax. Moments later, he sat down beside her, the rifle within easy reach.

  “Are they gone?” she asked anxiously.

  “For now. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. What are we going to do?”

  “I am going to take you to Micklin.”

  Susannah knew a moment of relief at the thought of seeing Hester and Abe again. And then she frowned. “Where are you going?”

  “I must go back and warn my people.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No, Su-san-nah.”

  “Why not?” She turned to face him, but, in the darkness, all she could see was his profile, sharp and clean.

  “This is what the young men have been waiting for. They have been eager for war. Nothing will stop them now. I want you to stay with Hester, where you and our child will be safe.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Do not argue with me, Su-san-nah. You do not know what it will be like when the fighting starts. Our people cannot hope to win. The wasichu have more warriors than the Lakota, more weapons, more of everything. I have seen war before, Su-san-nah. I will not put you at risk.”