by Karen Kay
“You should have awakened me, Miss Wiley,” said Collin. “I would have gone with him.”
Anna smiled at the boy, realizing, perhaps for the first time, how their adventure had changed him. Whereas before Collin had seemed withdrawn and solitary, at present he appeared more self-confident and sure of himself.
Anna stepped back toward the two children and said, “Next time I will, Collin. I promise.”
Even as she spoke, the wind whipped up behind her and Anna glanced skyward. This could not be doing the children much good.
Could something have gone wrong? Should she continue to wait or should she take matters into her own hands and go and find War Cloud?
She should go to War Cloud, she decided. Anything had to be better than standing in the sleet, waiting.
Anna trod forward and had taken no more than a few steps when she heard the doleful lament of a wolf. That was her signal.
She turned to the children and said, “Did you hear that?”
“No, Miss Wiley, what?”
“The cry of the wolf. That’s War Cloud’s signal.”
Anna paced as quickly as she could toward the cliff and found War Cloud waiting for her at the bottom of it.
He said, “Come, hurry. The rocks are already slippery. We will leave the pony here, under the trees, but bring the blankets from its back.”
Anna nodded agreement.
Without letting another moment go by, War Cloud took Patty into his arms and pulled both Collin and Anna along after him. “Careful,” he warned. “Though the climb is not steep, one must walk along a ledge for a short while to get to the cave.”
“Ah,” Anna said, but became silent when a sheet of ice suddenly hit her. Dear Lord, the sleet had turned to hail. She placed her arms over her head in an involuntary action.
“Hurry,” War Cloud encouraged, though Anna needed no urging.
He took them high up onto a ledge and, scooting along it, dropped suddenly down, out of sight.
“War Cloud,” Anna screamed, but he popped his head back up just enough so that she could barely see him, his forehead on a level with the ledge.
She asked, “Where is Patty?”
“She is inside the cave. Come, and hold tightly to the wall of the cliff. Here.” He grabbed hold of Collin, and dropping down, both man and boy disappeared.
Anna waited, barely daring to move.
War Cloud’s head appeared once more, again at the height of the ledge. He said, “Come closer and I will be able to grab hold of you.”
Anna held her breath and followed in the footsteps of the others, though at a much slower pace than the children. Her feet slipped over the rocks once and she screamed. She had never been particularly fond of heights.
“Steady, Nahkohe-tseske, you can do this,” he coaxed. “Come. Only a little farther and I can grab hold of your hand.”
Moving sideways one slow footfall after another, she inched along the cliff, her back stiff against it. He held an arm up to her and urged, “Come. It is not much farther.”
That depended on your viewpoint, Anna thought. From where she stood, he could have been miles away.
Sleet blurred her vision and was making the rocks icy, perhaps even perilous, yet she scooted forward one careful inch at a time.
“E-peva’e. It is good, you are doing well, keep coming,” he encouraged.
Rain, mixed with hail, beat at her face until she felt as though she were being blinded by it. She looked down and froze, paralyzed with fright. She could simply go no farther.
Off to her left she could see the dim outline of War Cloud’s hand, stretching up toward her. Still, she could not force herself to move. Perhaps, she thought, if she could jump toward his hand, she might reach it. Dare she try?
Never. She could barely force her feet to scoot forward at all, let alone take a daring plunge.
“Nahkohe-tseske, you have almost made it. Move toward my voice.”
“I cannot!”
“Haahe, you can. A few more steps. Come.”
But Anna stood paralyzed, unable to budge, unable to say a word.
War Cloud scooted up onto the ledge beside her. “Take my hand,” he bade as he reached out to her.
She made a wild grab for him and as she did so, she bent forward too suddenly and slipped completely off the ledge.
Screaming, she scrambled for something solid; found a slippery rock and clutched to it.
“Eaaa, hold on.” War Cloud’s voice seemed to mirror his fear. She heard him scoot back along the ridge. “Hold on,” he encouraged.
Something inched toward her. What was it? His hands, thank the Lord. She felt War Cloud’s hands take a firm grip on her wrists; felt her own fingers slipping, though she tried in vain to cling to the rocks. But the muscles in her hands and fingers ached with their load and they convulsed until she feared a mere few seconds stood between her and death.
Like a flash, she remembered War Cloud’s warning about the curse. Was she to be its next victim?
Slowly, one by one, her fingers could not hold on and she slid off the rocks. She screamed, but heaven help her, she did not fall; War Cloud held her fast.
He called to her, his voice strained, “Get ready, for I am going to bring you up here. Are you set?”
She cried. It was the only sound she could push past her throat.
With one gigantic pull, he hoisted her up, onto the ledge, both of them falling back into the safety of the cave.
Anna shivered, partly with cold, mostly with fear, as War Cloud folded her into his arms.
Murmuring softly to her, he whispered, “It is all right. You are safe.”
Anna, however, could not utter a word.
“My beautiful, brave woman,” he whispered. “You must be afraid of high places.”
Anna nodded and managed to say, “I am.”
“Why did you not tell me?”
She raised her shoulders and shook her head as she whimpered, “It did not seem important.”
War Cloud grunted, but made no further comment. In due time, however, he said, “Come farther into the cave. I will build a fire.”
“Yes,” she said. “Please.”
“Do you feel calm enough to look after the children? They will need your help to make them better. Do you think you can do this?”
Anna gave War Cloud a nod, smiling and sniffling at the same time. It might not be her finest smile, but it was the best she could produce at the moment.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Are you all right, Miss Wiley?” Collin asked.
Anna grimaced and glanced toward the children. She said, “I am fine,” though she continued to have her doubts.
“I was scared for you,” said Patty.
Oh, dear, thought Anna, she must have given them a fright. She scooted toward the children until she could take them both into her arms. Holding them tightly, she said, “I am fine now, although I do not know what I would have done had War Cloud been a little less brave.” She gave each child a quick kiss.
Collin wiped at his cheek immediately and squirmed out of her grasp. However, he continued to look upon her fondly.
And Anna continued, “But at least we have a safe place to sleep for the night.” As she glanced up, she caught a glimpse of her hero in the act of building a fire.
As though he sensed her attention, he turned his head, and she caught his eye before he bent once more to his task. Admiration had shone clearly from his eyes. That and what else? Had it been fear?
After a time, he said, “I think we will camp here a few days before we move on. There is plenty of game, so we will have a good food supply. This will help us to remain here and give the children the rest that they need in order to regain their strength.”
Anna sent him a grateful smile but made no reply.
At length, War Cloud commented, “Lame Bird is to meet us in a place barely a day’s ride from here. When I am out hunting, I will find him and bring him back here.”
&n
bsp; “And then what will we do?” asked Collin. “Is there a reason why Patty and I are the only two who remain with you, Miss Wiley?”
Anna had no ready answer to give the youngster. Her heart ached for these two. How could she tell him that he and Patty were the only children still unchosen?
Gently she touched Collin’s arm while she prepared to respond. She swallowed, opened her mouth to speak and closed it. What could she possibly say?
In the meantime, War Cloud had gained his feet and had stepped toward the children. As though it were his obligation to handle the matter, he said to Collin, “A man has many duties in life, my friend. You have already proven yourself to be a brave man. You must be even braver now, for we go to Fort St. Vrain.”
“Fort St. Vrain?” asked Collin. “What for?”
Realizing that she could not let War Cloud bear the entire brunt of the task before them, Anna came alive and said as soothingly as possible, “We still seek families, Collin. For you and for Patty.”
Collin looked dumbfounded at first, and then as comprehension dawned, his expression sank, his look one of despair.
But it was Patty who spoke up first. “But I thought we were going to be your children, Miss Wiley.”
Anna caught her breath. She had almost forgotten. This was exactly what she had told Patty. Had it been only this morning when they had arrived in the settlers’ camp? Had so little time elapsed? It seemed like forever since she had told the lie to the girl. But then, Anna had been so certain that she would not find herself in this situation.
Realizing she had no choice but to tell the truth, Anna sent an apologetic glance toward War Cloud as she explained, “I told Patty that you and I were going to take her as our own child, War Cloud…after we married.”
War Cloud’s countenance hardly changed, not even when the significance of what this surely meant became clear. However, his mouth tightened and he frowned. But his glance at Anna was not a look of censure. No, it was more an expression of worry. Nevertheless, he leaned down toward Patty and said, “If Miss Wiley told you this and she believed it, then the fault is mine. For without her willing it, she must break this promise to you.”
Patty’s eyes became wide as she stared at War Cloud. Still, he went on to explain, “It is I who led Anna to believe that she and I were going to marry. But the truth is that I cannot marry anyone. Know that our Nahkohe-tseske is doing the next best thing for you by taking you to Fort St. Vrain. Know also, neither she nor I will rest until you and Collin are safely settled.”
Having said this, he began to rise, but Patty pulled him back down to her and insisted, “But I want you, War Cloud. I want you to be my father.”
Anna tried to remember a time she had ever felt more miserable, but she could not. Nor could she think of any words to say that might ease the situation.
War Cloud, however, did not seem so afflicted. Gently he reached out a hand to stroke Patty’s hair as he commented, “If ever I were to have a daughter, know that she would be you. But it can never be.”
“Why?”
“Because there is danger for the women in my life,” he answered. “And so, because of this, I have decided that I will never marry.”
Patty’s eyes appeared to grow big in her face and as she gazed up at War Cloud, she solemnly placed her small hand on his and said, “But we like danger, don’t we, Miss Wiley?”
Anna could hardly stand it. She came down to kneel next to all three of them and catching War Cloud’s eye, stated, “That we do, Patty. We like danger very much.”
“Even if that danger means death?” War Cloud interjected.
“Yes,” both females answered.
War Cloud scowled, giving them both a low growl. He said, “Our adventure this evening makes me think that your Miss Wiley and I already test the patience of the spirits.” He paused and then said to Patty, “But come now, we speak of things we cannot change. For now, your duty is to eat well for these next few days and regain your strength. Do you think you can do that?”
Patty nodded. “I will do my best if you will try to keep us with you.”
War Cloud raised an eyebrow toward the girl, but to his credit, he said nothing.
Collin had wanted to go with War Cloud to meet Lame Bird. But Anna would not hear of it.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “tomorrow, you can go hunting with them both. For today, you are going to rest here, while I tend to your leg.”
Mumbling something about females and something else about squaws, Collin submitted to her doctoring.
It was later in the day when War Cloud came to her and told her that they were going to have to be on the move yet again.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I found the tracks of three bears outside the cave this morning. And though it is not yet time for them to begin their winter sleep, I think perhaps that we have been resting in their home.”
In their home? Anna thought as she swept her hair, which had turned sun-burnished golden, behind her ears. She said, “Yes, well then, perhaps we should be going.”
They left that afternoon.
The adobe walls of Fort St. Vrain stared at her from far off in the distance. Set against a backdrop of snow-covered Rocky Mountains, the place did not appear to be her idea of any sort of haven.
Instead, that haven stood beside her. If only he knew.
Anna had positioned herself on a cliff that overlooked the fort. Built of adobe and cottonwood, it sat next to the South Platte River, a strategic position; one that had for so many years seen great trade conducted with the Indians; one that had also been part of a mutual truce and peace. Currently, however, the fort was overrun with the United States military and at best, it had now come to symbolize the declaration by the government that the Americans had come to stay.
It seemed sad. Sad that an era so full of promise had passed. Sad that the intention—which had been to place two completely different cultures together and prove that they could coexist peacefully—had been betrayed.
The prairie wind blew in her face as she stared off at the structure, that breeze reminding her of how much she had come to love this land and this wilderness…this person standing beside her, too.
But it did her no good to think this way. This was the end of their journey together, the end of their association. War Cloud had made that plain to her: once she left him, there would be no going back.
Oh, that she could stay here instead of taking the journey into Fort St. Vrain. But short of pleading with War Cloud, what could she do? Especially when he seemed determined to do the “right” thing by her.
If only he knew what was in her heart. If only he knew that leaving him would be a certain death for her. Better, she thought, to die of the ungodly curse than of the raw loneliness that would surely follow upon her departure.
But she could not tell War Cloud this. Or could she? If she did not say what was in her heart at this moment, might she never have the chance to do so again? Might she always regret that she had never tried?
That thought was enough to decide her.
She could not leave this way, not without at least daring to speak what was in her heart.
Swallowing what felt like a little fear, as well as an overabundance of pride, Anna reached out to him. Touching his arm, she said, “War Cloud?”
He did not speak. Instead, he nodded.
She tried to say the words, found that she could not. Her eyes watered and her voice caught in her throat. Darn the wind, she thought, bringing up a hand to brush back strands of her hair, which had flown into her face. It was the prairie breeze, after all, that was stinging her eyes, making them water, wasn’t it?
She took in a gulp of air and said, “War Cloud, I do not wish to go down there.”
He did not answer; he remained immobile, his gaze apparently fixed on something in the distance.
She continued, “I know what you have said about the curse, but if that is the only reason we cannot marry, I think it is n
ot enough. Why don’t we try it? You know that I do not believe in this curse and I think my faith is strong enough to withstand whatever might come.”
She watched him; stared at him as he shut his eyes, as though he were forcing himself to remain calm.
She glanced away, and as she did so, in her peripheral vision she could have sworn she witnessed her hero, this big, fearless warrior, bring up a hand to take a swipe at his eyes. But when she turned back around toward him, she found his features composed, despite the telltale hint of redness in his eyes.
He said, “You know that I cannot do that. I fear we are already testing the curse’s strength. I would not willingly be the cause of your demise.”
She lifted her head to catch a swift gust of wind. She said, “You might be that cause anyway.”
He looked at her, she back at him and she was surprised to discover puzzlement on his face. Feeling as though she were taking another chunk out of the armor she used to face the world, she went on to explain, “If I go there, to St. Vrain, I think I might die of a broken heart. Perhaps it would be better if I stay here with you and die a more natural death.”
Her words seemed to raise a storm within him, for no sooner had she spoken her mind than he turned to her and took her into his arms. He said, “I would not have you die at all.”
“But you know that—”
He silenced her with a kiss, his lips searing hers with the knowledge that, had their circumstances been different, he might readily change the course of her life.
But things were not different, the, curse still existed, and when he lifted his head, all he said was, “Know that I cannot alter what must happen between us. And you cannot, either.”
Cheek to cheek, she whispered in his ear, “I would change it in an instant if I could.”
“Would you?” he asked.
She frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Would you dodge your duty so easily?”
