White Heart, Lakota Spirit

by Ginger Simpson

  Riley reached down, grabbed Fawn’s arm, and yanked her to her feet. “You speak English?”

  The steely grip of his fingers dug into her skin, and she fought to free herself. “Let go of me, you animal.”

  Riley turned and smiled at his commanding officer then looked back to Fawn with a disgusting smile. “Look’s like we got us a wild one here.”

  The captain tapped Riley’s shoulder. “Release her. This young lady is probably glad to see us—no doubt waiting to be rescued.”

  Fawn stepped back and rubbed her arm to ease the painful grip. She glared at the man called Riley, then squaring her shoulders, faced both soldiers. “Why have you come here? Our people have done nothing to harm you. Are you in the habit of attacking women, children, and old men?” She thought about the war party that had left that morning and swallowed hard.

  The captain removed his hat. “Our people? May I ask your name, Miss?”

  “My name is...Dancing Fawn. I am wife of Little Elk.”

  “I mean your real name.”

  “My given name is Grace Cummings, if that’s what you mean.”

  “How long ago were you captured?”

  “I...I was captured some time ago, but I’m here of my own free will, and I have no intention of leaving.”

  Suddenly, the man’s attitude changed. “I do believe this woman is delusional, Private Riley. Tie her up. We’ll be taking her back to the fort with us.”

  Fawn fought, but she was no match for the burley man who restrained her.

  * * * *

  Riley yanked Fawn outside. The serenity of the dawning sky and the calm flow of the nearby river belied the fact that life had suddenly turned to chaos and death. Bodies littered the camp—mostly elderly men and women who probably didn’t stand a chance of escape.

  Fawn anxiously scanned the area as Riley dragged her along. Terror gripped her insides as she searched for her friends. Where was Green Eyes? Was she safe with her son?

  Her mind filled with terror for her own child. What would these men do with her? They needed only to know she lived with Indians by choice to hate her.

  She passed a corpse lying in a contorted position. The clothing was that of a woman, but the face was indiscernible from apparent blows to the head. Recalling what Green Eyes wore, Fawn felt a tinge of relief that it wasn’t her friend but shuddered at the useless killing.

  “Maybe they made it to safety,” she whispered.

  With bound hands, she pointed at the dead person. “How could you kill a defenseless woman? Does it make you feel more like a man?”

  Riley wiped tobacco spittle from his chin. “Ain’t no woman, jes’ a dirty squaw like you.”

  Springing at him like a mountain lion, Fawn pummeled his chest with her fists. “You...you disgusting pig. That woman was a human being. She lived and breathed just like you. What gives you the right—”

  Riley pushed her so hard she tumbled backward and landed on the ground with a thud. He leered down at her. “You touch me again and you’ll end up lookin’ just like her.”

  Stunned and concerned for the safety of her child, Fawn sat for a moment. She tried to calm herself and let rational thoughts return. The last thing she needed to do was make Riley angrier.

  She struggled to stand, and as best she could, brushed the dirt from her clothing. Angry red abrasions circled her wrists beneath the tight rawhide binding. She took a deep breath and wondered what would happen next.

  A younger soldier led three horses to where they stood. His scraggly brown hair hung well beneath the worn army cap on his head, and he eyed Fawn lustfully while he spoke. “Looks like this un been layin’ up with one of them savages.” He turned his attention to Riley. “Cap’n says to mount up. We gotta get out of here before their men come back.”

  Riley shoved her toward the animals. “You heard the man. Mount up!”

  Fawn struggled to pull herself astride, hiking her dress well past her knees. She wished for her leggings, but tugged at the doeskin material, trying to cover as much skin as possible while hoping her advancing stage of pregnancy would deter the craving she saw in that young soldier’s eyes.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked with a trembling voice.

  Riley’s ugly head jerked around. “To Fort Sully.”

  Fawn took a deep breath. “What do you plan to do with me once we get there?”

  “That ain’t for me to say.” He leered at her. “Is that an Injun brat in yer belly?”

  “How dare you! What business is it of yours?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. I suppose from your tone that you laid down with him willingly.”

  He could teach you a lot about being a man.

  She bit her tongue to keep her thoughts from tumbling out of her mouth. It would do no good to argue with the likes of him.

  * * * *

  The late April sun grew hot as they traversed the still lush prairie. Now that the troops rode in rank and file, Fawn counted thirty-five men. A small group in comparison to the war party that Lone Eagle and his braves had joined.

  She wished for a drink of water but dared not ask. Weary from the long ride, she held fast to the saddle horn as her body bounced to the rhythm of the horse’s gait. She tugged constantly at her hem. What of her friends back in the camp—Green Eyes and her son, Singing Sparrow, and the dear old medicine woman? Did they live?

  A new worry crept into her mind. What if Little Elk came to her rescue? Outnumbered, his attack would mean certain death…if he still lived. She stared at the sky and prayed for her husband’s safety.

  Her worry turned from Little Elk to the approaching night-time. As evidenced by the soldiers raid on the Lakota camp, bad things happened under the veil of darkness. Panic welled in her chest, but she fought against it, forcing positive thoughts to the forefront of her mind. She wouldn’t rest until she found a way out of this mess. She had to survive for the sake of her child. And her husband and friends? She had to cling to the belief that they were all alive.

  The long shadows cast by the setting sun stretched out alongside the formation. She licked her lips and remained vigilant.

  * * * *

  Riding at the head of the regiment, the captain finally raised his hand to halt the troops. Fawn’s muscles ached from riding most of the day. They had only stopped to rest one time, and she barely got a drink from Riley’s canteen before he yanked it away. The rim and the contents both smelled of tobacco, and all she could picture was the dirty spittle in the corners of his mouth. If she hadn’t been so thirsty, she would have forgone touching her lips to something that had touched his. But thirst could drive a person to do things they normally wouldn’t.

  She hurried and dismounted before the young soldier came and manhandled her again. The last time they stopped, he’d taken great delight in touching her in places he ought not while helping her down. His leering grin had added to her helplessness. Arching her back, she moved her neck from side-to-side to work out the kinks.

  The troops, all seeing to their animals and preparing for camp, left Fawn standing alone and confused. Her admirer came for the horses and cast his usual disconcerting glance in her direction. Unable to stand the way he leered at her, she shivered. She found little solace in the gentleman captain. His polite attitude towards her changed to cold rudeness at her admission of being a savage’s wife. Would he intervene if someone threatened her?

  A blanket thrown in her face disrupted Fawn’s thoughts.

  “Here’s your bed. Pick a spot,” Riley barked. “I’ll untie your hands until after dinner, but then I’m gonna tie you back up. Don’t want you gettin’ any ideas while I’m sleepin’.” He cackled like an old lady.

  * * * *

  Fawn fidgeted in her bedroll, turning and turning in an effort to find a comfortable spot where
the sharp pebbles beneath the grass didn’t poke her in the behind. She pulled the rough army blanket up under her chin and gazed at the rising full moon, wishing for the soft buffalo robes to which she had become accustomed. The coarse covering she was given was prickly and chafed her skin.

  Thoughts of Little Elk crossed her mind. Where was he? Was he looking at the moon and wondering about her? Did he even know she lived? Did he? A sob escaped her.

  She looked beyond the stars and the bright yellow orb in the sky, seeking comfort from above. “I’m scared, Lord. I don’t know if I can escape...and what if Little Elk didn’t come back to camp at all? I need your help. Please. Amen.”

  Her bound wrists made finding a comfortable position difficult. She rolled to her side and willed sleep to come, but it didn’t. Her mind was tired of thinking, but she couldn’t clear her head. Images of the journey so far flooded her mind. The position of the sun earlier indicated they traveled northwest. The river ran just beyond a small rise, so if she escaped and followed it back, she would certainly find the camp. Perhaps, the fort wasn’t too much farther.

  She rolled to her back. “Stop thinking, and get some rest,” she muttered. “Tomorrow might be another long day.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Blinded by the rising sun, Fawn turned over, blinked, and sat up. Her back ached, and she had to pee. But where? Already men stirred about, leaving no place away from prying eyes.

  She struggled with the bindings around her wrists and wiggled her fingers to encourage blood to flow back into her numb hands. When would they untie her? She posed no physical risk to a man.

  Her bladder felt as though it would burst, and she scanned the camp for a secluded spot. The immediate terrain was flat and devoid of trees. If only she could walk a short distance from camp, but she feared to ask. Besides, what if the lusting young soldier followed her? She’d be out of hearing distance. She huffed in disgust. Shouldn’t she at least be afforded some privacy?

  The oddly familiar smell of coffee permeated the morning air and brought back memories of her parents, and for a moment she felt an overwhelming loneliness. The pressing need to urinate quickly ended her reverie.

  She had no choice, and hoping no one watched, she pulled her blanket up around her shoulders and hoisted herself into a squat. She pretended to search through the grass while a steady stream of urine splattered against the inside of her thighs and puddled around her feet. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  * * * *

  “Hard tack! I hope I never have to eat that again. I know why they call it hard,” Fawn complained to the soldier who re-tied her hands.

  There was some comfort in the fact that everyone else ate the same horrible breakfast, but that didn’t fill her stomach. All she could think about was going home. Her wrists hurt, her back ached, and she missed her husband terribly. What if he went on without her? What if he found another wife? She fought the negative thoughts and tried to find something positive about her present situation. She was still alive.

  The ever-lurking Private Riley cut his horse in next to hers and interrupted her thoughts. She wrinkled her nose at the disgusting body odor that permeated the air and made breathing difficult. Tobacco juice dribbled down his beard. “Well, Missy. I noticed a smile on your face this mornin’. I assume you must be pretty thankful for us rescuing ya from those murderin’ redskins.”

  Fawn grasped the saddle horn so tightly her knuckles turned white. If blood could actually boil, she knew hers would. She held up her bound wrists and yelled at him. “Does this look like I’ve been rescued? Did you find me bound by the Indians? You haven’t a clue about me, or my people, for that matter.”

  “My people? Why you Injun-loving whore! I aught ta show you how a real man treats a woman. And I jes’ might.” He spat a stream of tobacco close to her foot then nudged his horse forward.

  The image he threatened turned her stomach. She’d rather die than let him touch her. She pulled her foot free from her stirrup and kicked his horse hard in the rump. His animal bolted into the backside of the two horses ahead then stopped and reared up on its hind legs. Riley grabbed desperately onto the saddle, trying to maintain his balance, but slipped precariously to the side and dangled like a rag doll. Finally, he managed to pull himself upright.

  Fawn covered her mouth and stifled a giggle. Before he looked, she sobered in a heartbeat. She shouldn’t have frightened his horse but couldn’t help herself.

  Riley, eyes bulging, turned and scowled at her.

  She shrugged and cast an innocent look in his direction.

  Huffing, he steered his horse out of line and galloped back toward the front of the formation.

  “Serves him right,” she mumbled. She only wished he had fallen on his backside. Maybe the tumble would have knocked some of the air out of that big, ugly windbag.

  * * * *

  The plains and the hillsides were still lush and green close to the river, and the ravines separating the two boasted countless colorful blossoms that would soon succumb to the summer heat. Along the banks, cottonwood, willow, elm, and cedar trees grew in abundance, and the winding river twisted and turned as far as Fawn could see.

  “Reckon we ain’t stoppin’ for lunch seein’ as how we’re so close to the fort.” She overheard the soldier next to her talking with the man riding in front of him.

  Her heart raced. They were almost to the fort. What would happen to her when they got there?

  She scanned the landscape before her, and on a high rise above the river, she spied a square brown structure in the distance she supposed must be the fort. But what were the surrounding dots?

  As the garrison neared, the wall surrounding the fort became clear. What had looked like specks from afar turned out to be a herd of horses grazing outside the gate. Fawn surveyed the high confines of rough-hewn wood and the armed soldiers standing watch atop the thick beams. As the formation rode beneath a crude sign reading, “Fort Sully,” she noticed the large locking gates, and her heart sank.

  Her thoughts again turned negative, and she shook her head. I’ll never get out of here. The positive voice of Green Eyes echoed in her mind. Never say never.

  Unlike the carpeted plains, no grass grew within the compound walls. The parade of horses raised a thick cloud of dust that swirled into the air and coated Fawn with powdery residue. She smacked her lips and grimaced at the dirty taste.

  Several wooden barracks, a livery, and a trading post stood inside the walls. At the far end, she spied what appeared to be an icehouse. A plank walkway connected the structures Fawn supposed belonged to the fort’s officers. A hitching rail stood in front of each. Horses tethered at some swished their tails and shook their heads in an effort to discourage the swarming flies. In some many ways, Fort Sully resembled a small town.

  The captain raised a hand to halt the troops, and as the soldiers dismounted, Fawn looked down into a sea of faces staring back at her. Her heart hammered, wondering if she should dismount, too. She decided to wait until someone instructed her.

  The group of at least a hundred men and a handful of women gathered around Fawn and gaped openly. She struggled to pull the hem of her dress down to hide her exposed legs and again wished for her leggings. The way the women whispered and giggled annoyed her, and she returned their icy stares. “How rude!” She spoke loud enough to be heard. If they thought they could get by with treating her like trash, they were wrong.

  Her comment silenced a few but only for a moment.

  Riley swaggered over. “You gonna sit there all day, or are you waitin’ for me to help you down?”

  Fawn glared at him. “I can do it by myself just fine.”

  She stepped hard in her left stirrup and swung her right leg over the saddle. Lowering herself to the ground, she smoothed her dress with bound hands, and one side at a time, pushed back wayward wisps
of hair worked free from her braids.

  The leering continued, and Fawn quickly grew tired of the impolite crowd. “What are you looking at?” she barked.

  A few haughty women in front stiffened as though they were the insulted ones. Fawn turned her back on them.

  A soldier handed her a canteen, and she drank until it was empty. Riley snatched the leather container from her and threw it back to its owner. Grabbing her by the arm so hard his thumbs bit into her skin, he ushered her to where the captain stood speaking with another man.

  Riley cleared his throat. “Cap’n. Here she is.”

  The regimental leader turned. “Thank you, Private, you’re dismissed.” He took Fawn’s elbow and urged her forward. “Miss, I’d like you to meet Colonel Parker Jamison, the fort commander. Colonel Jamison, this is the woman I told you about.”

  Beneath the colonel’s cap, salt-and-pepper hair hung neatly trimmed around his neck, and slivers of grey frosted his moustache. Unlike the lowly enlisted men, his freshly laundered and pressed uniform confirmed his level of importance. Fawn figured him for at least fifty years old.

  His gaze hardened when he looked at her. “Well, welcome to Fort Sully. I understand you were hesitant to accompany my men back here.”

  Fawn stood to her full height and held up her tethered wrists. “I wasn’t given a choice. Unless, of course this is how you treat all your guests.”

  “Untie her immediately, Private,” the colonel barked.

  Fawn turned her nose away as Riley worked to loosen her bonds. The colonel sniffed.

  “For God’s sake, Riley, take a bath. You smell like a horse’s behind.”

  She swallowed her laughter but nodded to the colonel. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Are you thanking me for having you untied or for ordering Private Riley to take a bath?”