by J. R. WRIGHT
“My lord, you’ve been busy,” Charlie said and came forward some more until he was at a tree stump nearby and sat down on it. With that, his mule began nibbling some grass at his feet. “If they’re fair sized pelts, they could fetch a good price at the rendezvous. Better’n you’ll get from that trader Hudson Bay Company sends down from Canada each summer.”
“What do you reckon they’ll bring?” Pierre asked.
“I reckon American Fur will pay twice what that Sweeny with Hudson Bay will offer. That was three dollars gold or four dollars in trade goods, last year.”
“Did you say American Fur?” Pierre asked, then glanced at Luke.
“American Fur, yes. They’re the ones putting on the rendezvous there at that Woodhole place come late July. Guess you weren’t here when I told it the first time.”
Pierre had heard, but no mention was ever made of American Fur. That was the company Silas Jones was connected with. It was him and that tongueless man, Timmons, that they left hanging atop the body of Barney Sparks at the river near Fort Pierre. He wondered now if by chance they survived. Had someone from the fort come searching for them, as Jones was so certain they would, and gotten there before Sparks decayed beneath their feet?
“Guess we’ll skip the rendezvous,” Pierre said. He felt he should tell Charlie about the scoundrels from that outfit, but didn’t. He was in no mood now to open that up for the telling.
“Suit yourself!” Charlie said. “Guess I’ll be making the trip alone then. Just thought we’d get a better price if we tossed our catch together. My forty pelts won’t do much to impress them. We’ll see.”
“Even two hundred ain’t much to bargain with,” Pierre said. “It takes five or six hundred to make it interesting. Guess we’ll just hold ours over till next summer. Add to it with what we catch the coming fall and spring seasons.”
“Suit yourself!” Charlie said again, then got up as if about to leave. He took another look at the grave down by the creek. He then wondered if he should mention what he had heard at the Lakota village just a month ago, but thought better of it. A man ought to know when he buried the right woman, if it was his own wife. That white gal they have over there must be somebody else’s woman. He never asked to see her, so he wouldn’t know the color of her hair. He remembered Breanne’s as being light – golden, even.
“If you change your mind about the rendezvous, I’ll be coming back by this way in a few weeks.”
“We won’t be,” Pierre said and watched from the porch as Beaver Charlie turned and walked away into the woods, the old white mule trailing close behind him.
“Seems that mule has been following Charlie for so long he doesn’t know he’s not on a tether anymore,” Luke said.
“Kind of like some squaws,” Pierre said. “I had one follow me for over a year. Everywhere I went, everything I did, she was right behind me.”
“What happened to her?” Luke asked.
“She stepped in a badger hole and twisted her ankle. I couldn’t just sit around waiting for that to heal.” Pierre paused to light his pipe.
Luke sat down on the edge of the porch and patiently waited for the rest of the story. He never got it.
Sarah came out of the cabin, “Where is your friend? I made up some extra biscuits to go with the venison stew.”
“If you feed that one, he may never leave,” Luke said, remembering the other time Charlie came to their camp. He and Pierre laughed.
This display of happiness was music to Sarah’s ears. She hadn’t heard laughter all the while she’d been here, and for good reason. Just hearing it, though, gave her the feeling of family. And that was something she hadn’t experienced in years. Not since before she ran away from hers to be with Frank. What a miserable mistake that turned out to be. Frank was not a fun person to be around. And, worst of all, he didn’t want kids. With her dreams of having a big family out the window, she had no desire to bed with him after learning that. Of course she did, that was her wifely duty, as long as she was under his roof. Too bad she never found that out before coming way out here in the middle of nowhere, with no family close to run back to.
Sarah had been wondering of late if there was something more she could do to get Luke to pay some attention to her. So far his looks were only glances. He seemed to have more interest in that red horse than her. She kept herself neat as possible, her honey colored hair always put up neatly each morning, before he came in to breakfast. She bathed in the creek often, while they were off doing other things. And she occasionally rubbed a little pine sap that oozed from the cabin logs on her feet to keep them fresh smelling as well.
His lack of attention, however, didn’t keep her from dreaming often of how glorious it would be to bed with him – a strapping young man near her own age – as opposed to Frank, who was over twenty years her senior. Perhaps it was too soon to expect that yet, but she remained hopeful, nonetheless.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
It was a sultry summer day with sundogs dancing overhead, but Tokalu Ohitika did not notice that or the children who played joyfully nearby, stirring up dust as they chased a skinny brown dog about the teepees nearby. He was deep in thought of a time past, before they came to this place on the prairie with few trees to shade them.
Tokalu Ohitika, or translated into English, Brave Fox, was a council chief of the Santee Nation in the land of many lakes (Minnesota) back then, and was one who had tired of the white man’s continued invasion of their land. He was one of those who had agreed to the Treaty of 1830, which traded their land east of the Mississippi for all of that to the west. Then, at least, even though they had given up plenty, they had a recognizable boundary and a piece of paper to back it up.
It wasn’t long before they as a people felt the advancement of white settlers once again pounding on their door. Finally, after years of being pushed further and further west, he met with the Santee council of chiefs and told them of his plan.
“Our people are being overcome once again by the white man. Once again they take our land without resistance. They kill our game and fish our waters until we are forced to eat corn in the cold of winter. They mix with our women and shame them before our eyes. Already white man’s blood is in some of our children and many of our women are heavy with their babies. The blood of our people is now impure, and soon we will be one with them. Some of our people have already taken up white man ways and live among them as equals.
“We should move far to the setting sun and let them be. Give them this land of no game, and let us be at peace in another place where the white man will not want to go. Let us join our prairie brothers, the Dakota, and gather the big dogs to hunt the many buffalo they have told us about. Let us go to this place where our blood can flow pure as the mountain stream, and we can regain our dignity.”
When Brave Fox finished, he looked at each of the other two dozen or so chiefs and awaited their answers.
Lame Deer spoke first. His tribe was located furthest to the east and his people had made many friends among the whites.
“My people will not leave this place. The soil is rich and grows much food. The white man trades many fine knives, clothing, and tools for our catch of furs and the crops we raise. We cannot run from them. We must accept their ways because they will always be at our heels no matter how far we run. It is time now we stop and change our ways. If we are to become one people, then that is the will of our gods. I, too, want no trouble with them, but I do not fear them. They have shed no blood of my people. We will stay on this land.”
One by one the chiefs all spoke, and when finished it was clear that Brave Fox stood alone in his beliefs. He left the council with a heavy heart, but also he knew what he must do. He would go west with those who wished to follow. The others could select a new chief or join with another village. However, no half-breed child or woman heavy with white man’s baby would be allowed to follow. He made that clear when he spoke to the most loyal of his followers that night.
“On
ly those of pure Santee blood, and no women who have shamed us, will follow to the new land, where the creeks and rivers flow with fish, and the meadows are filled with the big cow they call the buffalo.
“In three moons we will leave in the darkness, so as not to shame our brothers who choose to stay. They have chosen their destiny as we have chosen ours, and we will honor their decision as we vow to stand by our own.
“The journey will be long and difficult. We must bring only the most nutritious of foods and the sturdiest of clothing. The white man’s trinkets will be left behind or traded to those that choose to remain for useful tools or food. Those that wish to follow must be warned that what they bring they must carry on their backs and the backs of their women and children.
“Our eyes will only see to the west, and if any among us should fall behind, they will not be helped or returned for. Only the wisest and strongest should reach the new land.”
On the night of the third moon, Brave Fox was surprised at the large group that had gathered at his lodge. Some four hundred people, their belongings on their backs, were present and ready to be accepted for the long journey. Only one old woman, who was obviously too weak for the trip, and three young women who had shamed the tribe, were rejected. Of those that remained, most were young, and over a hundred of them were the strongest braves in the tribe. Brave Fox was proud of his following and knew then that he had been blessed by the gods for his wise decision.
Given up was the life of farmers for a nomadic existence on the near treeless, grassy flatlands. Brave Fox and his people were destined from then on to be at the mercy of the roaming buffalo and the harsh winter winds. No longer were they Santee: people of the woods, but rather Teton: dwellers of the prairie. And from this day forward, no Santee, because of their mixed blood, would be allowed to reside in the village of the Teton.
Now, some ten years later, Brave Fox was faced once again with the near presence of the white man, and the fear that again his people would be forced to move further to the west, to avoid the mixing of the two bloods – or the shedding of it.
His young braves had taken a white woman captive late last winter, and it was that which gave him concern now. He had spread the word none of the single braves would be allowed to take her as his woman. To insure his wishes were carried out, he had ordered Breanne placed in the care of Taloma. Taloma was a strong willed old woman he had grown to respect over the years for the wisdom she gave at times when troubling decisions needed to be made.
Brave Fox meant Breanne no harm. He just wished to be rid of her, and would be, as soon as she was well enough to travel. His plan was to rejoin her with her people when the opportunity arose, if a white settlement could be located.
Right after Breanne arrived, she became frightened of Taloma when the old woman insisted on stripping her naked. First the soiled buckskins, and then the filthy red flannels, were peeled away from her body and tossed on the fire. Then came a good scrubbing, and during that process, Taloma left no parts un-bathed or unexamined for injuries. This was followed by a generous slathering of duck fat over her entire body. She was folded between layers of stitched-together rabbit furs and remained there to rest for a solid week before being allowed to wrap in a blanket and move about the teepee. It was then that Taloma presented her with a complete new outfit made of soft doeskin. It consisted of leggings, breechclout, dress, and moccasins.
Now that she was allowed out of the teepee, just to sit by the fire at first, many young men came by to view her and sneak a touch to her golden hair. Seeing this happen once too many times, Taloma made it her business to swat at them with whatever was handy and chase them until they were clear of the area. Once Breanne had regained much of her strength, she took it upon herself to do some swatting of her own and did so with all the spunk of a cornered wolverine.
But when Breanne’s pregnancy started to show, and the news of it spread throughout the village, she no longer had to worry about the young bucks coming around. They avoided her area as if some disease lurked there and walked wide around.
Taloma noticed the pregnancy and made signs to Breanne of rocking a baby in her arms. As Taloma did this she smiled widely, exposing her few remaining teeth.
Being raised without a mother, Breanne was naïve of her condition until then. She realized her bleeding had stopped, but having never been told what that meant, she hadn’t made the connection.
Taloma was overwhelmed with the prospect of the baby and took great care to see that Breanne wasn’t over exerted. Many of the duties she had taken upon herself to perform were assigned to others on this side of the village, where the shamed and widowed women were made to reside.
By this time Breanne’s health had greatly improved. She was completely recovered from abuse suffered during captivity with the Santee. Except for the pregnancy, and the normal complications that go along with that, she was in excellent health.
Over the past months at the village, Breanne couldn’t help but pick up some of their language from Taloma as she spoke and signed simultaneously. Once Brave Fox got wind of this, he came regularly for visits. With his sketchy knowledge of English, and hers of Lakota, it made for many interesting talks.
Breanne was careful during these talks not to reveal the location of the camp on the creek for fear harm may be brought to Luke and Pierre. If she only knew Brave Fox’s sole reason for questioning her on the whereabouts of her people was to enable them to return her to them, she perhaps would have been more cooperative. But, as it were, each time they asked she said St. Louis or New Orleans and gave a sketchy description of both. For St. Louis, she told of the boats that traveled the river belching fire. Of New Orleans she talked of the broad ocean. Much of this he refused to believe.
“The water stretches so far there seems to be no end. It goes on forever,” she said, spreading her arms, then sweeping them across the horizon.
This always left the old chief doubled over in laughter. It was then he gave the sign for the crazy buffalo, which she had also seen Taloma do many times. It was accomplished by protruding a finger from each side of the head while rolling the eyeballs. This always made her laugh along with the old chief.
Breanne had grown to like Brave Fox, but she feared he was losing his power among the younger braves. They rejected many of his policies and pretty much did as they pleased. Most of their misdeeds went unpunished. She had gotten this from Taloma, who was also concerned.
If Luke were to come for her and be approached first by these younger ones before getting to the village, he would surely be killed, she feared. She also feared he may already have come, but refused to let herself believe that. Even though that would explain why no attempts had been made to rescue her.
Each night before allowing herself to fall asleep, Breanne prayed Luke was alive and that someday he would come for her. She also prayed the child she was carrying was his and not of one of the Santee. If that should come to pass, then she prayed she would die in childbirth, as her mother had when she was born.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The only deer for miles around the camp were does nursing fawns, Pierre reported one evening as the three of them sat on the porch. “Guess we’ll need to go east for our next kill. Bucks, this time of year, hang in the deep woods where it’s cooler.”
From that, Luke had no idea Pierre was planning to go off on a hunt the following morning, especially without him. But that’s just what happened. When Luke awoke at sunup the following morning, Pierre and the spotted horse were gone.
It wasn’t quite time for breakfast, but Luke went to the cabin anyway. He wanted to ask Sarah if Pierre had said anything to her regarding a morning hunt. Perhaps he should have knocked, because when he entered he found her standing naked in the tub where it sat before the fireplace. He was so taken by the sight of her shapely body that he froze in place for a time before turning to leave. He was nearly through the door when he heard her speak and paused.
“Don’t go,” she said, ever
so softly.
For a fleeting moment, he thought of heading out to gather the red horse and going in search of Pierre, which was his plan all along. But now he found himself undecided. It had been a long time without the pleasure of a woman, and that weighed on his mind near constantly of late. He had been noticing himself paying more and more attention to Sarah lately, as she moved about the camp, especially when she doubled over at the stream to wash clothing or scour the cooking pots each day.
Before he knew he had even made a decision, he found himself back in the cabin, pulling the door closed. Hungrily he went to her, pulling the buckskin shirt over his head as he traveled. During all of this, Breanne never entered his mind; his animal instincts were in control now. But surely the memory of what he was about to do would haunt him for weeks to come.
Sarah even gave him an out when, between caresses and heated kisses, she said, “Do you really think we ought to be doing this?” However, that was selfish as well. She wanted to be assured he was ready for a continued relationship, and that this wasn’t just a poke and run, as her mother had warned her about many long years ago.
That was just before Luke doubled her over the sturdy table Pierre had built from sawn logs laid flat side up and entered her forcefully. His anxious thrusts were nearly violent at first before settling down to a slower, more sensuous pace. This went on for a considerable time, neither wanting it to end. When it did, both were totally exhausted and moved to Sarah’s pallet on the floor, made up of colorful mackinaw blankets over layers of bear skins, where they collapsed in each other’s arms.
When Luke awoke an hour later, he found Sarah atop him, preparing to pleasure herself again. He accommodated her with an equal amount of manly vigor as before.
Feeling his manliness, Luke then leapt up from the bed and stepped into the tub where Sarah had been earlier and allowed her to give him a hearty scrubbing as they both laughed joyously.
