When the Wolf Breathes (Madeleine Book 5)

by Sadie Conall

  As the night drew down, the smell of roasting meat and fish drifted up to us. We could see the light of another half a dozen fires close to Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’’s campsite and the men sitting and standing around down there. I knew they wouldn’t go hungry. They would share what they had for that was the way of the wild. Someone had caught several hares, others had caught fish, someone had a brace of woodchucks. I could just make out the bulk of Ryder as he settled on a log, lighting a brand from the fire and bringing it to the bowl of his pipe to light the tobacco, before settling back to enjoy it. There were close to thirty men down there now, for the twelve men out the front of the trading post had also drifted back to join them. I could hear their laughter, the muted sound of their conversation and I saw Ryder laugh then turn as Wesa'shangke went and sat beside him, an arm about his shoulder.

  And then someone touched me. I turned as Wannge’e leaned towards me. “Do you mind if I join him?”

  I nodded towards the men outside. “Do you really want to sleep out there among so many? We don’t know their characters Wannge’e. Most of them have been living alone without women for months. I’m sure Te’tukhe would rather you stay in here with us.”

  But she wanted to be with him. And nothing I said would change her mind. Not even when I said I thought her reckless to do this, with so many men around. But she saw no harm in it. I let her go. For this was something she must learn for herself.

  When I met Wannge’e in St Louis in May of last year she had been cowed, subdued, after five years of being a slave in the Mandan village. But over the past year I had come to realise that she was strong, for she had understood even as a young girl of eleven when taken from the Bannock village by Hidatsa, that to act submissively was to stay invisible. But now I understood something else about her. Since she began this relationship with Te’tukhe, she was also stubborn. As indeed he was. And there was nothing I could do to stop her joining him outside, although I suggested I go with her and help raise the smaller of the teepees for at least then I could rest, knowing she was safe. But she shook her head, happy to sleep outdoors and as full night came down she left us. Manier locked the door behind her, but as I heard that heavy bolt of wood come down I felt uneasy about her being out there.

  I went to the window and saw her run back through the trees although she didn’t go to Te’tukhe, she went to where the horses were hobbled close to our belongings. She would wait for him there. But I saw several men look at her as she ran past their camp and I suddenly remembered a conversation I had had with Wannge’e several months ago while we were still living at the Omaha, when I could see the inevitable happening.

  “I don’t care what his reasons are for being with me,” she had argued, her voice soft yet defiant. “I love him. And I don’t care how long I have with him, I will take what he offers and be grateful for it.”

  “I just want you to be careful with your love Wannge’e, for Te’tukhe is a man who will not. And although you know full well how much I love him, I also know him as hard and ruthless and have no wish to see him break you.”

  A shadow had crossed over Wannge’e’s lovely face at my words, but she had nodded. “I know this already, Esa-mogo'ne’. Indeed, I knew the kind of man he was years ago when he lived with the Shoshone. But I accept him for who he is and love him for it. I know he is hard. I know he is fiercely independent and I know full well he will kill without remorse if he must. But I also trust him, for his word is his truth. And in his own way I believe he loves me.”

  My heart lurched remembering her words. And then I remembered another time when we spoke of her first meeting him.

  “I fell in love with him when he rode into the Shoshone and Bannock village, when I was a child no older than ten. I felt I knew him, in here,” she put her fist to her heart, her eyes deep pools of emotion, pleading for me to understand. "With his tattoos and scalp lock and the way he looked at everyone so arrogantly, he stole my heart. And he never frightened me as he frightened some of the other young girls. And I shall tell you now Esa-mogo'ne’, that I encouraged Poongatse and Deinde'-paggwe and Saca-tzah-we-yaa to follow him with me, just so I could watch him. So you see, it is hopeless Esa-mogo'ne’. I know full well he will never settle down, but if he were to ask me to travel the world with him, I would go. And if he leaves for Comanche lands without me, then I’ll be grateful for the short time we’ve had together. And I promise you, I’ll have no regrets.”

  “And what if there’s a babe?” I had dared to ask.

  Wannge’e bowed her head. “Then so be it, Esa-mogo'ne’. I shall have a part of him with me always, until the end of my days. For I tell you I love him and if that makes me weak, then so be it. But I will be there for him no matter what he asks and if that is my fate, sad though it may be, then so be it. I accept it willingly.”

  I closed my eyes, feeling hopeless, for I knew only too well that love such as this was dangerous. And I knew it better than anyone, for had I not felt the same about Ryder? Hadn’t I left everything and everyone I loved to be with him? Well, let fate play her cards and let them land where they will. I could do nothing.

  *

  Poongatse lay curled in her furs and blankets on the other side of the room deep in sleep, yet Harry wouldn’t settle. Perhaps because he could hear the men’s laughter and their conversation which now seemed louder in the dark of night. I got up to close the heavy wooden shutter, the air in the cabin now cool and clear of smoke, but as I began to swing it shut I peered out and saw the great bulk of Ryder sitting up against a log next to Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’. I couldn’t see Te’tukhe but presumed he was with Wannge’e. Other men lay curled in their blankets asleep around their own fires, while others sat in smaller groups talking, nothing more than shadows through the trees, lit only by firelight.

  I closed the shutter and wondered what time it was. Only several hours after dusk, but late enough that I felt unable to light a candle, for the store owner was abed below us, snoring softly beside his wife. I moved back to lie with my son, stroking his arm, hoping to send him to sleep with the caress when he suddenly rolled over and curled into me. I reached up to brush aside the thick dark curls which fell across his forehead and remembered the first time I had ever touched his father like that.

  Ryder had lain abed on a pallet sick with fever in my cave and even now I can vividly recall my feelings as I brushed aside those curls from his hot damp face, curls now owned by his son. I had been astounded at my feelings for him for I had been brutally hard in those days, unable to allow myself to feel empathy or pity for any creature otherwise I would have been lost living alone in the wild, even as I wondered who he was and his reasons for coming so far west.

  “When do we leave here, Mama?” Harry asked, speaking in French, shattering my thoughts.

  When alone with Harry, we always spoke to each other in French. Just as Ryder encouraged the child to speak only in English when they were alone together. It was the only chance we had to keep him fluent in both languages, for Poongatse and Wannge’e had no understanding of French or English unlike the rest of the group. When all together, we spoke only in bannaite’, which Harry was also fluent in for I had spoken to him in this dialect since he was a babe. But the Bannock dialect was similar to that spoken by the Comanche which the men all spoke fluently although when Ryder was alone with his brothers, the three of them only spoken in their own Dhegiha Sioux dialect. Harry had begun to pick up some of their words, which I know pleased Ryder but if switching between all these languages bothered the little boy, he made no fuss about it.

  “On the morning light, my love,” I answered him, bending down to kiss him.

  He thought on this a little then reached up to touch my face, the scent of herbs sweet upon his hands for I had made him wash from the river before we retired for the night. “Sing me a song, Mama,” he asked, his little voice becoming hoarse with sleep as I continued to caress him.

  I began to sing a French lullaby but paused, thin
king on the wisdom of that if Munier woke and heard me from downstairs. I had no care for him to discover I was of European blood. So instead, I sang the Bannock lullaby I had sung to Deinde'-paggwe as a child, the same one I had sung to Harry just after his birth at Millbryne Park and the song I had sung the first time I ever met Lady Lisbeth Ashbury.

  The thought of that occasion brought back unhappy memories, even though it had been more than four years ago. But I would never forget the viciousness of Lisbeth, nor her aim to humiliate me, to crush me socially on one of my first public outings in London as Ryder’s wife, as Countess Benedict.

  I pushed the memory from my mind as well as all thoughts of Lisbeth Ashbury and thought only of my son. And as the song came to an end, the words almost a whisper so as not to wake Poongatse or Manier or his wife, my own voice husky with fatigue, I felt Harry at last fall into sleep, his small body slumped against me.

  And only then did I lie back and close my eyes, content to drift off to the muted sound of the men outside. I thought on the morrow as sleep came for me, knowing that dangerous country lay ahead for us for within days we would leave the friendly territory of the Ponca and head north into Sioux lands, crossing first into Winnebago territory before entering the lands of the Teton Sioux. And it would be in the northern territories of the Teton Sioux where we would split up. Ryder, Te’tukhe and myself would head due north to the Mandan, riding past country held by the Arikara and Hidatsa.

  Harry and the girls would head northwest with Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’ to the Lakota Sioux, to the village of the Hŭŋkpapĥa and Allard Lemoine’s cabin. I thought of Harry riding all that way without me and felt ill with worry. This would be the first time we had been apart for any great length of time since I fled to France more than three years ago in search of Jarryth. But there was one consolation at least. Once we split up, the journey north to the Hŭŋkpapĥa and Allard Lemoine’s cabin should take less than a month. And that at least gave me some comfort.

  *

  It was close to midnight when we were woken by a loud group of men arriving at the trading post. Their moccasin boots thumped on the boardwalk outside and I woke, half dazed from the deepest of sleeps and reached for my knives, but as I sprung to my feet I remembered with some relief that we were safe behind the solid walls of the trading post.

  Harry woke with a start beside me, uttering a cry of distress and I cautioned him to be quiet. He did as I bid, his little hands held to his mouth in fear even as Poongatse crawled towards us. She took the child in her arms and Harry clung to her as I moved to the edge of the loft, but Harry knew well enough to keep his silence from our days of travelling alone in the wild, for sometimes our lives had depended of our keeping quiet.

  Men’s fists pounded on the wooden door below, as we heard Manier rise from his bed and shout profanities. I saw him cross the room, the hot glow from the coals in the hearth giving out enough light to see as he pulled on buckskin pants over his woollen undergarments. Then he picked up two muskets that had been primed and loaded before he retired for the night. But a man didn’t live this long in the wild without being ready to defend himself and Manier had been here for almost twenty years.

  “Who goes there,” he yelled in French, followed by the Sioux dialect, even as he opened a tiny shutter in the door.

  A man bellowed out to him in French that they had been riding for weeks, that they had come to trade.

  But from where I knelt in that loft watching in the dark, I could smell the rich, raw scent of whisky coming through that tiny shutter. Manier swore back at them in French, telling them to find a place to bed down, for he had no intention of opening the store at this late hour of the night. We heard more loud oaths and fists hammering on the door, then other men’s voices and I recognized Ryder along with Te’tukhe and others, all speaking in French or Spanish and knew these men were the same ones who had invited Ryder to join them to talk earlier.

  The newcomers yelled at them to put away their muskets, that they meant no harm, that they just wanted to trade. And after a lot of grumbling and more oaths, they all left the boardwalk and made their way around the trading post to the camp at the back.

  I rose and went to the window and opened the shutter. A large group of men, most of them in shadow, moved below us under the trees, the newcomer’s loud voices fuelled by whisky. I turned as Harry and Poongatse joined me at the window, as that camp in the clearing came alive again, with men woken from sleep and watching with curiosity and annoyance as the newcomers stumbled towards them. And then someone threw more wood on the low coals, illuminating most of the men down there. The newcomers were fur trappers and as they moved towards the warmth of the flames, several of them laughed boisterously, asking if there was any food or women.

  “Will Wannge’e be alright?” Poongatse asked and I nodded.

  Te’tukhe would make sure she was alright, along with Ryder and Wesa'shangke and the Comanche. They would take turns to stand guard for what remained of the night, not only to keep Wannge’e safe, but to keep a watch on our belongings, for these newcomers were the worst of men. Arrogant, selfish, and ignorant. And if anyone down there in that camp had an eye for theft, of searching through another man’s belongings, it was these newcomers. There were six of them and they were big men. They laughed again, uncaring that they had woken everyone.

  And then someone began to play a reed pipe, no doubt one of the halfbreeds, the high sweet notes slowly bringing a different energy to the camp and at last the men began to settle. I went to turn away but stopped as two shadows came running towards the cabin, weaving their way through the darkness under trees. They moved in stealth, yet I recognized them easily enough. It was Te’tukhe and Wannge’e. Within moments they were knocking at the door. We heard Manier utter another oath of impatience as he asked who it was. Te’tukhe’s voice came to us, asking for a haven for his woman for what remained of the night. Manier again uttered an oath, but this time he moved forward to lift the heavy wooden bar and pull open the solid door. Te’tukhe stood there and we heard him thank him, before Wannge’e slipped out from behind him and into the room. She carried her furs and a blanket and paused long enough to thank Manier herself before turning towards the ladder. Manier uttered another curse as Te’tukhe left, then he shut the door, placed the heavy bar of wood across it then returned to his bed.

  Wannge’e was badly shaken. “One of them came across to look at me,” she said as she held her blanket around her, trembling. “He shoved me with his foot, to see if I was awake. And then Te’tukhe was there with a knife. I thought he would kill him. But the fur trapper backed away, apologizing to Te’tukhe, saying he didn’t know I was his woman. Te’tukhe let him go, but he insisted I come here because those men have been drinking the fire water.”

  “What’s the fire water, Mama?” Harry asked, turning to me with a child’s innocence.

  I moved to close the wooden shutter, although I was reluctant to close off the lovely sound of the reed pipe. “It’s a water that puts a fire in your belly,” I replied, wishing for a sip of that firewater myself, especially if it were brandy.

  But those men had more likely been drinking homemade whisky or gin which owned a high alcohol content and made by someone with a still in the wild. And they had come here to trade for more. Although I hadn’t seen any alcohol in this store. Not even ale. Perhaps it wasn’t worth Munier’s trouble.

  When the girls and Harry finally drifted off to sleep, I went back to the shutter and opened it a little to watch the men in the camp below. About an hour later it all went quiet and finally I went to my own furs. I had no memory of falling asleep.

  Winnebago territory: March 1805

  Madeleine woke to the soft call of Ryder below the window of the loft. It was still full dark, an hour or more before dawn and she had risen, careful not to wake the girls or Harry but when Ryder urged her to get moving, that he and his brothers and the Comanche wanted to be gone from here before dawn, she quickly woke the girls, h
elping them carry the furs and their blankets down the ladder.

  Manier woke as they tried to unlock the door, understanding their reasons for leaving early, knowing it was to get away before the men outside began to stir. Ryder was waiting for them on the boardwalk. He took Harry in his arms, the child still deep in sleep and hurried them away to a place some way back from the cabin. Madeleine and the girls were stunned to find their horses and travois there already packed with their belongings, with Te’tukhe and Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’ ready to move out.

  She could feel the men’s urgency to leave and with Ryder’s help she tied Harry to her and then they rode out. An hour later, dawn thrust its first strike of light across the darkness of the night sky as the small group left Ponca territory at last and rode on into country held by the Winnebago.

  *

  Those last weeks’ riding together would become happy, enduring memories for Ryder and his brothers, along with Madeleine and the Comanche. And as spring slowly moved towards summer, as the days became longer and warmer, their time together became more poignant, for they all knew this time was coming to an end. Soon they must separate. And on reaching Allard Lemoine’s cabin, Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’ would head south, back to Comanche lands.

  But when Madeleine saw the men together, when she heard their easy banter and laughter, she wished with all her heart they didn’t have to go to the Mandan or secure Deinde'-paggwe’s freedom, that the girl was at home on the Snake River Plain and they could all continue north together to the Hŭŋkpapĥa.

  But that kind of wishful thinking was foolish and Ryder scolded her for it although Madeleine knew, had she not insisted on riding to the Mandan, Te’tukhe wouldn’t be here. He would have left long ago, along with Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’, keeping to his original plans to head south to the Wazhazhe. And Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’ would have long since returned to Comanche lands. But out of loyalty to her and Ryder, these men were still here, united in Madeleine’s plan to rescue a Bannock girl they had known only briefly some five years earlier. Madeleine wondered how it was possible to ever repay such loyalty.