by Sadie Conall
*
On that ride north, each of them in that small group begun to teach Harry all they knew of life in the wild, even though Harry already had an understanding of how to hunt with bows and arrows, how to set snares in woods and rivers, how to gut fish or butcher small animals, all of which he learned from his days travelling with Madeleine and the Bannock girls in those months after they left St Louis. But now Madeleine showed him how to hold knives, how to carry them safely, how to butcher with them or use them as tools and how to throw one in self-defence.
The men taught him what wood was best to make a bow, how to look for flint to make an arrowhead. The girls showed him how to identify vegetable roots which he could boil or roast and eat, flowers and herbs which added flavour to food and others which helped with pain and fever and still others which aided the healing of wounds. Ryder taught him all about horse pistols and muskets, of powder and shot, how to oil and maintain the weapons and the need to use them sparingly when out in the wild. Ryder and the Ugákhpa brothers and Aishi-waahni’ taught him how to shoot an arrow to kill, how to listen to the wind and feel the heat or chill of the day before he released the arrow from the bow. They taught him how to find water in the wild, how to track, to understand the wind, to read the position of the sun and the moon and the stars.
Harry absorbed all they taught him like a sponge and although some might have said he was too young for he was not yet four years old, Ryder and Madeleine wanted him to know, for just remembering one of these things might one day save his life.
in the wild: April 1805
She lay on her belly in the long grass, hidden by trees and shrubs as she looked down on the huge camp below. Spread out for almost half a mile along the riverbank, the camp was made up almost entirely of men, all of them from the expedition party. Although less than a mile away were several other camps, made up of men and women and even children from local tribes, most of whom had come to trade, others out of curiosity.
Small groups of men from the expedition party stood guarding great wooden boxes and leather bags, all covered in buckskin to keep them dry. Other men stood guard by the canoes, for this large party of men owned not one horse between them.
Her mouth watered from hunger as the smells of roasting meat and herbs drifted up to her. She wanted desperately to go down there but she dared not, not now, not in daylight, because there were too many of them. And even though she had backtracked and lost him weeks ago, that had changed in the past week and at most, he was only a day behind her now. No more than that. And she knew with every breathe in her body that this is where he would come. And because of her fear of him, because she knew what he was capable of, she remained where she was, hidden deep within the brush, not daring to go down there in the light of day.
And then she saw what she had come for.
Another girl about her own age was making her way up from the river, carrying waterskins, hurrying towards one of the firepits, but not to join one of the local groups. This girl was with the men of the expedition party. She dumped the waterskins by the fire, then turned around, revealing the cradleboard on her back and the young babe within it.
The girl on the hill watched her closely but soon realized the only way to meet her in safety would be down by the river under cover of the night. For the young mother must return there later to wash or fill waterskins.
Yet she couldn’t see a good hiding place. It was all too open, so once she went down there, there would be nowhere to hide and if he came, those men down there wouldn’t hesitate to hand her over, because she belonged to him. Unless someone, a man, stepped in to fight for her, although that was unlikely. Even from here she could see those explorers had too much to lose with all their boxes and stores and leather bags to fight a battle over a girl they didn’t know.
She rubbed her eyes, feeling the fatigue of the past few months sweep over her, even as her belly rumbled again in hunger. She glanced back down at the young mother, aware that she risked the girl’s safety by approaching her for in truth, they both had a lot to lose. And she dared not take risks now, not after she had come so far and gone through so much.
She glanced up at the sun. Only a few more hours to wait. Not long. She tried not to think of her hunger, nor her thirst or crippling fatigue. She thought only of reaching that girl down there and how to do it while keeping both of them alive.
*
He came towards dusk. She didn’t see him at first because he entered the camp on the far side of the clearing. He was riding with the same three men and like her, they had come from the north. She groaned with bitterness. She had thought she was a day ahead of him, but she was wrong. And she knew then that no matter how often she backtracked or rode her horse through rivers, she would never be free of him because his tracking skills were so much better than her own, as were the men he rode with. And now it was only a matter of time before they found her hiding place up here on the hill. She turned and calculated how long it would take her to sprint to her horse. He was hobbled not half a mile away, under deep shelter in the woods. But they would find this flattened grass, they would see the footprints spread wide where she had run and they would find the spoor of her horse. And they would see that she still rode alone. She could only hope that all the tracks left by the dozens of horses below from local tribes might cover her own for a little while at least, confusing him, giving her a few precious hours to get away.
She whimpered a little, her eyes narrowed in hate and fear as she watched him and his three friends arrogantly ride their horses at a walk into the centre of that sprawling camp below.
But then she noticed a strange thing. Except for the local men sitting around their fires, all the men from the expedition party stood up and reached for their muskets. As well they might, the girl thought, for these four men were a vicious lot.
She saw him glance across at the women sitting with their men and children around their fires. He was clearly searching for her. And then he pointed to the young mother with the cradleboard on her back sitting by her own fire, even as she pulled a blanket up around her head and shoulders, for she knew him, as he knew her.
Several men hurried towards the riders as though sensing their menace and among them was a tall redhaired man who the girl on the hill recognized as one of the chiefs of this camp. She knew him as Captain Clark. And then he was speaking in that strange language they called English and which he had used when she saw him last, even as Charbonneau began to translate for him.
“What do you want here?” Captain Clark called out in the English words.
The girl on the hill heard Charbonneau repeat the question in Sioux. She knew the French-Canadian, just as she also knew he now travelled with these explorers as their interpreter. And then his oath of surprise for he also knew these men. He pointed to a wound on the thigh of one of them, no doubt offering the use of a healer, but the wounded man shook his head.
No, she thought, he wouldn’t bother with herbs, he didn’t have time for healing. Because his hatred of her would consume him until he found her, regardless of what he suffered.
She saw him speaking rapidly in Sioux, pointing to the young mother with the cradleboard on her back who was now standing, aware of the conversation. The men on horseback wanted to know if the young mother had seen her. And now the girl on the hill knew she must flee. No-one could help her now, certainly not that young mother.
She stayed long enough to hear the redhaired Captain Clark offer the four men the use of their camp for the night, speaking in the English words before Charbonneau translated. She heard them agree to it, for the sky had already lost the light of day as a rosy hue of twilight settled over the river.
She watched the four men hobble their horses and set their own fire going within a pit of stones. But at least that gave her some time. For she now had the night ahead of her. She would ride as hard as she dared, using the light of the half-moon to guide her as she headed southeast, hoping they wouldn’t think her stupid enough
to retrace their steps.
But she would. Because she had no choice. For she had left behind something that she would risk her own life to get back.
She went to move but froze in fear as she suddenly heard men talking just beyond where she lay. There were two of them and they were speaking in the same English words used by Captain Clark. They missed her by some twelve feet. Had it not been dusk, they might have seen her lying there. There would have been no escape then.
She heard them hurry down the hill towards the camp below, each carrying a brace of wild hares, hearing the same words repeated several times. Colter. Jimmy. She didn’t know that was their names.
She stared in astonishment at one of the men who owned hair the colour of autumn, with threads of fire running through it like the flaming sunset above him. Yet his eyebrows and eyelashes seemed so fair they seemed to have been dusted with gold. His pale skin was burned to a golden hue from months of living outdoors, yet also sprinkled with the faintest drops of amber freckles. He was a giant of a man, yet still so young. Indeed, he was only a few years older than the girl hiding just behind him. She saw his pale blue eyes glimmer with good humour, his mouth curve up into a smile and whatever he said, the man beside him laughed. She had seen quite a few men from the group of explorers, but not this one. He seemed like something ancient, like a spirit taking the form of a man, as though he had just stepped out of fire.
She glanced away from him, made sure she was alone then moved, quickly and silently, and in a low run sprinted for her horse, her belly cramping badly now with hunger, her mouth dry from dehydration, the fatigue dragging at her body. But she didn’t linger on her needs, for she had a night of hard riding ahead of her. And somewhere she would find a river or a stream and drink her fill. For she must survive. Because someone depended on her to stay alive.
Teton Sioux territory: April 1805
They spent the night camped in a clearing within a thick stand of red cedar, although they didn’t bother lighting a fire. It wasn’t cold enough and they were too close to Hidatsa, Arikara and Mandan territory now to reveal themselves to enemies.
Ryder offered to take the first watch and as he stood up, wrapped in his sleeping furs against the chill of the night, Madeleine watched him, acutely aware of his male hunger as he repeatedly looked back at her, desiring her as she curled within the warmth of her own furs. And it was only later as the night deepened into shadows, as Te’tukhe settled into deep sleep opposite her, his breathing low and rhythmic suggesting exhaustion, Madeleine pushed aside her furs and with the utmost care so as not to wake him, got up and crept away into the night.
She sought Ryder in the dark, finding him through his scent. And then she saw him walking under the trees within the light of the half moon, pacing to keep warm, agitated and overtired, desperate to stay awake.
Yet there was nothing here to cause them harm, she had already sensed that. And as she hurried towards him Ryder turned, hearing her step, but before he had a chance to shout or grab his musket, she reached up and claimed his mouth with her own, silencing him. She heard him groan with surprise and desire and without a word, he put down his musket with care, feeling the heat of her in his arms, her body moulding against his own. He forgot he was on watch, he forgot everything but her, his senses reeling with lust. Her mouth was a hot sweet thing tasting of peppermint from the baagwana tea she had taken earlier, even as she reached urgently for his buckskin pants and finding him, feeling the hardness of him, hearing the soft groan in Ryder’s throat as she teased and held him.
But his desire was not to be teased and he moved to pull urgently at her own buckskin pants, even as Madeleine pulled off her moccasins and then he was lifting her, carrying her further back into the woods before laying her down upon a soft bed of thick spring grass. With a desperation to match his own Madeleine lifted her legs around him, urging him to her until his hardness and raw maleness found her. They made love silently, urgently, clinging to each other in the dark, aware of each other’s fear for what lay ahead of them at the Mandan village and for their son, who had left with Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni and the Bannock girls for the northwest less than a week ago.
Madeleine bit into Ryder’s shoulder to stop herself moaning from the pleasure of him, the buckskin sour in her mouth, for he had been so desperate to feel the heat of her he hadn’t bothered removing his upper clothing.
When it was over, he fell upon her, his arms and legs taking his weight for he was unwilling to leave her body even as Madeleine clung to him. When at last he rolled away, they lay there for a little while in silence until finally Madeleine moved, wrapping herself around the warm solid bulk of him, not caring that they lay half naked in the dull light of the moon.
And then Ryder moved to kiss her, even as his hands caressed her. “Get some sleep while you can, my love,” he whispered.
She nodded, unwilling to leave him but knowing she must. He watched as she dressed, then with a parting kiss between them, she left him to also dress then ran back towards their camp. Te’tukhe was still softly snoring and the last thing Madeleine remembered before sleep came for her, as she pulled the furs up around her shoulders, was the taste and touch and feel of Ryder.
*
He could have fallen asleep where he stood, his body trembling from fatigue and their lovemaking so to keep himself awake he once more began to walk, looping around their campsite, listening for anything that might suggest a predator. He checked on their three horses, the animals snorting and stamping their hooves as he approached. He quietened them and once again they settled. But these horses wouldn’t have an easy time of it, not until they reached the Hŭŋkpapĥa at least, for although they carried only the most basic of belongings on their backs to the Mandan, this journey north would be done as hard and fast as the horses and their riders could cope with.
Ryder thought of the belongings they carried between them. One clay bowl, it’s purpose more to heat Madeleine’s peppermint leaves for her baagwana tea than anything else. Their own weapons of muskets and knives, bows and arrows, the duelling pistols, their furs and waterskins, the leather bags carrying smoked meat and little else.
Ryder left the horses and did another slow loop of their camp, glancing often at Madeleine and in the end decided not to wake her. He would take her turn doing her watch.
When Te’tukhe woke some hours later to relieve Madeleine, he was surprised to find Ryder still up, but said nothing. And when Ryder crawled into his furs, he had a sudden ominous feeling, no doubt brought about by lack of sleep, that as each day passed, it seemed they were now pushing against time more than ever and he wondered if their plans to reach the Snake River Plain before winter were nothing more than a false dream after so many delays. And as he fell asleep, his last thought was of the Mandan village. He hoped they could be in and out of it within a day.
*
Something woke Madeleine just before dawn. She turned, surprised to see Te’tukhe and immediately felt guilty, yet so grateful, that Ryder had let her sleep. Yet as she watched the tall, rugged Ugákhpa prowl restlessly about their camp it was obvious that something was wrong.
“What is it?” Ryder asked, pushing aside his furs. Whatever had woken Madeleine, had also woken him. He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw as he stood up, reaching for his waterskin as Te’tukhe turned to him, shaking his head.
“I can’t be sure. I thought I heard something, another horse, but it seems it was nothing. I was about to wake you both.”
Madeleine and Ryder moved quickly to pack away their furs, taking a few strips of cold meat to eat, water from their waterskins to drink and wash, then once again they were on the move.
But several miles north of their camp, just an hour after sunrise, Madeleine heard them. It was nothing more than the faintest sound of a snort from a horse, of a man coughing, hooves crushing rotten leaves and other debris, but she reined her horse in and turned to Ryder and Te’tukhe.
“Men and horses, heading this
way,” she hissed, moving to dismount, pulling her horse in behind a thick stand of oak, hickory and deep shrub.
Ryder and Te’tukhe didn’t wait to second guess her. They followed her lead and dismounted, entering the stand of trees and reaching up to gently touch the muzzles of their horses to quiet them, their muskets on the ground at their feet, primed and ready to fire, their knives, sheaths of arrows and their bows beside them. Within minutes some twenty riders appeared, less than a half mile away, riding their horses at a walk, every one of the men silent as they looked about them, aware of every movement and sound within that deep wood. Each man carried a buckskin sheath on his back which held a musket. Around their waists, attached to rawhide belts were more buckskin sheaths which held shot and powder and knives. Several men also carried good quality axes, the blades honed to razor sharpness. Their faces and arms and chests were marked with tattoos of various colours, from black and reddish brown to blue, the colours taken from soot, ochre mixed with clay and indigo. And as they came towards where Ryder and Te’tukhe and Madeleine hid, it was easy to recognize these men as killers, armed and moving with stealth.
Madeleine closed her eyes, aware of the pulsating heat coming off them and their mounts, along with the reek of lust and greed. These men were renegades, men who belonged to no tribe, men who would join with any other band who sought to gain wealth and status by destroying others. But men like these could be found anywhere in the world, in positions of power, in gangs on a street, men and youths who travelled in packs seeking out the weak, leaving destruction and misery in their wake.
