Jessie’s mouth opened in a gasp; then she swallowed hard and fought back tears as she took another step away from her cousin. “Do you believe this, yourself?” she asked, a sob catching in her throat. “Don’t you really believe that I was married?”
“I’d not put anything past you, for you are nothing but a stranger to me now,” he said, shivering as he became suddenly aware again of the vomit on his pajamas and feet.
Then he looked up at Jessie again. “Those times when we were children are far in the past now,” he said coldly. “And, anyhow, you don’t know just how jealous I was of you then, because you were always healthy even though you were petite, and I was always sickly. I was poked fun at all the time because I had to wear thick-lensed glasses. I was called four-eyes. You were called beautiful.”
He snickered and stared down at her stomach. “I should let you get big in your pregnancy,” he said. “You’d no longer be the belle of the ball . . . someone so pretty no other woman compared to you.”
He kneaded his chin as he looked her slowly up and down, then gazed again into her eyes. “But, no, that isn’t what’s best for me,” he said, dropping his hand to his side. “I need you to be tiny and beautiful. That brings attention to me. Yes, tomorrow I’ll take you and have you fixed. You’ll not be allowed to get big with child, not while you’re in my house, and probably never, for I’ve heard that once a woman has an abortion, it messes her up forever inside.”
He laughed. “That’s just fine with me.”
Unwilling to listen to another word, Jessie turned and rushed into her room. She closed the door between herself and Reginald as Jade stood and watched, horrified.
Again Jessie rubbed her lips, trying to erase the vile taste of vomit, then felt the heat of her face where Reginald’s hand had surely left an imprint from hitting her.
“Reggie, oh, Reggie,” she sobbed. “Why? Oh, why?”
Then she flinched when she heard someone being slapped out in the corridor.
She knew that Jade had just been struck.
Reginald was shouting at Jade, telling her to mind her own business and get back to her room or he’d make her wish she’d never been born.
Jessie hung her head and cried as she heard Jade’s sobs and the sound of running feet as she returned to her room.
Jessie knew that she must flee, and now, before daybreak, or her future would be altered forever.
She eyed the window. Yes, she would leave as soon as she thought Reginald was asleep.
If only she could take Jade with her. But Jessie had to consider Lee-Lee’s welfare. If Jade was missing, Reginald would take it out on Lee-Lee, and there was no way to help her escape the crib tonight.
Jessie’s own future was in question now, and her unborn child’s life lay in balance.
Everything she would do from this day forth would be for the welfare of her baby!
Chapter Twelve
Jessie couldn’t believe it. She had actually been brave enough to leave Reginald’s house and was now on the lovely white horse that he had given to her for her riding pleasure, never guessing that she would eventually use it to escape his madness.
With only the clothes on her back, she had fled as soon as Jade told her that Reginald was asleep again.
They had embraced, shed a few tears, and then Jade watched from the front porch as Jessie rode into the darkness of night.
Jessie was concerned at how much her hands still hurt as she took control of the horse’s reins. She was glad that Jade had applied one last bit of ointment to them before she left and had slid the soft gloves onto her hands. She hoped that in a few days the hands would finally stop hurting.
But she had more on her mind than worry about her hands. She wasn’t sure now what her future held for her.
As she rode beneath the stars and the sliver of moon, she had no idea where to go to find Thunder Horse’s village. Finally she decided she would just ride in the direction of the sacred rock and pray that she’d find him.
And then a new thought came to her like a bolt of lightning. Even if she did find where Thunder Horse and his people lived, it would not be wise to arrive there in the middle of the night. Sentries might be posted and take her for an enemy.
She wished the moonlight were brighter, for if it were, the sentries would see that she was a woman. But the moon wasn’t bright.
She had to find somewhere to stay until morning.
She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Tombstone.
If only she could have gone there, things would have been much simpler for her.
But as it was, Reginald had the townsfolk eating out of the palm of his hand. She could not reveal to any of them that she had left him. They probably wouldn’t even believe her when she told them the reason why.
Somehow he had them blinded to the sort of man he was. If they were to learn about his “cribs,” ah, then they would know the devil that he truly was.
“Where can I go until morning?” she whispered as she clutched the reins, trying not to think about how painful it was to do so.
She looked to both sides of her as she rode onward, the white steed like a ghost in the night. And then she saw something that made her slow the horse to a trot as she rode toward what appeared to be an abandoned shack.
It was all but falling down, precariously leaning to one side, where several boards had rotted away, leaving sharp edges protruding from the ground. There was no smoke at the chimney, or lamplight at the windows.
As she rode up to it, she drew rein and gazed questioning at the front door, which stood agape. She knew that no one lived there except for perhaps some wild animal. She shivered at the thought that some creature might be sleeping inside.
But at least it would be a roof over her head for the night. When dawn broke, she would travel on.
With luck, she would find Thunder Horse’s home.
But even if she did, would he welcome her, or turn her away?
Chapter Thirteen
The sun pouring through cobwebs at the two windows of the shack and the pain in her hands awakened Jessie.
She ached from having slept on the cold floor. Her flesh was cold and clammy beneath her clothes.
She was thankful that she had had the horse’s blanket to wrap up in during the night. But the horse and the blanket were all that she had taken from her cousin’s ranch.
Other than that, she was a woman without any possessions or means to fend for herself. She didn’t even have a weapon.
She was so hungry her stomach ached unmercifully, but she had nothing to eat. Jessie pushed herself slowly up from the floor and folded the blanket as she looked around her.
Someone had lived in the shack, but surely a long time ago. There were cobwebs on everything, even the cooking utensils that sat on shelves over a table.
A wood-burning stove stood at one end of the room, but there was no wood, or she could have had at least some heat during the night.
She saw empty tin cans where food had once been.
She saw a dead rat, twisted and mangled in a thick cobweb at one corner of the room. She felt nauseous at the sight.
She rushed outside to where she had left the beautiful stallion secured beneath a tree. At least it could eat the thick oat grass, by its feet.
“Seems you’re much luckier than I,” Jessie said, slinging the blanket over the horse and then adding the saddle.
The steed gazed at Jessie with large brown eyes, then resumed munching grass.
Jessie took the time to run her fingers through her long, thick, auburn hair to get the witch’s tangles out of it, then untied the reins that she had secured to a low tree limb.
She swung herself into the saddle and was on her way again. She still had no idea where to find Thunder Horse, but hoped she was heading in the right direction. She soon passed the sacred rock and continued onward.
As she rode, her hunger pangs became even more distracting than the pain in her fingers. Once again she b
egan to wonder what she would do if she didn’t find Thunder Horse.
Then her heart skipped a beat when she spotted smoke spiraling up from above the treetops. She smelled the very identifiable scent of food cooking!
Had she found the village, or some white person’s ranch?
She reined the horse to a trot and rode slowly toward the smoke. As she passed through a thick stand of aspen trees, the smell of food was almost an assault on her senses, she was so painfully hungry.
Suddenly she saw something that made her heart sing. Ahead were many tepees; the smoke she had spotted was coming from the smoke holes of the Indian lodges.
She also saw several women and men coming and going, and a circle of children playing what appeared to be a game of tag. Their laughter came to her like a joyous song, for children always gave her a sense of peace.
Tears came to her eyes. She had found a safe haven from her tyrant of a cousin.
But the next moment she gasped as several warriors on horseback appeared on all sides of her. They had come so stealthily and quietly, she had not heard them until they were there, their arrows notched on their bowstrings, their eyes showing mistrust.
She drew rein and watched as one of the warriors came up to her. He slowly circled her, then stopped right beside her.
“Why are you here?” he asked in English, his voice filled with a coldness that frightened Jessie. Had she been foolish to hope that she would be welcomed here? Was this even Thunder Horse’s village?
“I am looking for Chief Thunder Horse,” Jessie said, her throat dry, not only from thirst and hunger, but also fear.
“And why are you looking for my chief?” the warrior Two Stones asked, his eyes filled with suspicion.
A relief that Jessie had never felt before washed through her when she learned that she had found Thunder Horse’s village. Surely once he knew that she had come, all would be well. She would be greeted in a friendly way, and allowed to stay until she got her life sorted out.
“He knows me,” Jessie said. “I believe he might welcome me into his lodge. Will you please take me to him?”
Two Stones looked over his shoulder at the others, who still sat on their steeds, studying her even more closely.
When they all nodded, indicating it was alright to take Jessie to their chief, the warrior closest to her turned back and nodded.
“Come,” he said to Jessie, as the others lowered their weapons and removed the arrows from their bowstrings.
Finally Jessie felt safe. She hoped she would soon be welcomed by Thunder Horse. There had been an instantaneous connection between them the two times they had spoken. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but only hoped that he had felt it, too.
She rode with the warriors into the village. They stopped in front of a tepee that was larger than all the others, and she knew it must belong to Thunder Horse.
Her pulse raced as she dismounted, then she smiled in pleasure as Thunder Horse emerged from his lodge.
She felt a rush of heat to her cheeks when she saw his attire, a brief breechclout. His chest was bare, revealing his muscular body, and his hair was long and loose down his powerful back.
“Why have you come?” Thunder Horse asked, folding his arms across his chest.
He forced himself to remember what he had vowed to himself only last night. He had vowed never to think about the woman again, to forget any feelings he had for her.
Yet here she was today!
How could he forget her if she came to him, looking so pretty and sweet, her beautiful, fiery red hair as glorious as a sunset?
Yet there was something about her hair, her attire, that troubled him. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair seemed somewhat tangled, and her eyes looked weary.
He could not help feeling concerned about her, although duty warned him away from her.
“I . . . I . . . became frightened of Reginald,” Jessie said, her voice breaking. “He is a madman. I . . . left his house. I have come to you to seek shelter until . . . until . . . I can figure out what to do or where to go.”
Thunder Horse saw tears in her eyes, and his heart was moved by what she had said. Still, he could not allow himself to trust any white that easily, not even a lovely woman who only yesterday had saved a Cheyenne child from being trampled.
After all, she was probably the wife of Reginald Vineyard. Reginald could have sent her as a way to trick him.
Reginald could then come to the village and claim that Thunder Horse had abducted her to achieve vengeance against his enemy. If so, it would be the end of Thunder Horse’s people.
No. He could not allow himself to trust her.
“There is no place for you here,” Thunder Horse said stiffly, everything within him crying out against speaking such harsh words to this woman he would never forget. “Leave. Return to this man. I know he is using you to trick me. I will allow no harm to come to my people.”
“What?” Jessie gasped. “What do you mean—a trick?”
When Thunder Horse didn’t say anything else but instead stood stiffly glaring at her, his arms folded in a stern way across his massive chest, Jessie was stunned. Having believed he was a man of kindness, of courage, of integrity, she was stunned that he would turn her away, a woman in trouble.
Yes, she was white. But she had thought he would look past the color of her skin and see a woman in need . . . a woman alone.
And what on earth was this about a trick? How could Thunder Horse believe that?
She felt beaten now by two men.
She wasn’t about to tell this one that he was wrong, that she was not there to trick him, that she truly was alone in the world with a baby on the way.
He wouldn’t believe her.
Not sure now whom she could turn to, yet too proud to cry in front of Thunder Horse, Jessie gave him a defiant stare. Then with her chin held high, she wheeled her horse around and rode away from the young chief and his village.
Oh, where could she go? she wondered desperately.
And her fingers. They ached so much. Jade’s medicine had worked, but for only a short time.
First she must find water to soak her hands in, and then she would decide what her next move would be.
She felt, oh, so very, very alone!
Chapter Fourteen
Thunder Horse watched Jessie ride away on her white horse until he could no longer see her, then dispiritedly turned and went back inside his lodge. Uneasy about what he had just done, he sat down before his fire and went over again in his mind what had just transpired between himself and the beautiful woman.
Deep down he felt he was wrong to have turned her away. The more he thought about the look in Jessie’s eyes, and the pleading in her voice, the more he thought she might truly be in trouble. If not, she was quite an actress.
He hated to think that he might have sent away a woman in distress.
“Uncle?”
The voice of his nephew Lone Wing broke into Thunder Horse’s thoughts. He looked quickly toward the closed entrance flap.
“Ho, nephew,” he said. “What do you want with your uncle?”
“I wish to speak with you,” Lone Wing said. “May I come in and sit with you? May I speak my mind about something?”
Thunder Horse rose to his feet and held the flap aside.
“Enter, nephew,” he said. “You are always welcome in my lodge.”
“Pila-maye, thank you,” Lone Wing said, his manner a little awkward.
Thunder Horse saw much in his nephew’s eyes and could guess what he wished to speak about.
The woman.
His nephew had seen the woman’s plight, and believed her words.
“Sit,” Thunder Horse said, gesturing toward the blankets beside the fire.
Lone Wing nodded and sat down with Thunder Horse.
“Speak your mind, nephew,” Thunder Horse said, folding his legs and resting his hands on his knees as he gazed at Lone Wing.
“I heard what transpired between y
ou and the woman,” Lone Wing said, searching his uncle’s black eyes. “I saw much between you, yet even more in the woman’s behavior. My uncle, I listened well to what the woman said. I watched your reaction to it. I believe you said to her what you do not truly feel. You saw, as I did, how frightened she is of Reginald Vineyard.”
“I have thought about all of this, too, yet still fear that she may have come because she is a part of a scheme . . . a trap . . . formed by our enemy to get back at the Sioux for having caused him many sleepless nights,” Thunder Horse said tightly. “If this is so, and if I took her into our village, all would be lost for our people. That man would come and say crazy things, and he would not come alone. He would bring white authorities to witness it all. And which of us do you think the white authorities would believe? The man whose skin is white.”
“I understand your fear, yet what if it is not so?” Lone Wing said softly. “What if the woman did leave because of her fear of that man, and she is alone now with nowhere to go, or no one to look after her? She is such a frail thing, more frail than any of our women.”
There was a strained silence; then Lone Wing moved to his knees and faced Thunder Horse. “There is more I want to tell you,” he blurted out. “Chieftain uncle, there is another woman, a woman-girl, who is entrapped by that same man. She is his slave and is forced to sell her body to evil men. I have watched her. I have seen her misery and shame. One day I waited outside her back door, and when she came out to throw water from the door, I spoke to her. She was not afraid of me. She talked. She told me things that made my heart turn cold.”
“You say this woman-girl belongs to Reginald Vineyard?” Thunder Horse said. “And . . . how would you know this? Where did you see her? Which house? Why did you chance talking with her?”
“You are aware of the houses in Tombstone that men call cribs, are you not?” Lone Wing said guardedly, afraid that his uncle would scold him once he heard the entire story.
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