by Sadie Conall
“Yes halfbreed, it’s over, for there is little point in chasing a ghost,” she answered, pausing as she held his gaze, feeling herself getting lost within the depths of his beautiful eyes, knowing she could look at him for the rest of her life and never once tire of it. “When we rode into the Mandan village I knew then that Deinde'-paggwe wasn’t there. So yes, the quest is over.”
She didn’t tell Ryder about the elderly woman. She saw no point, for clearly the woman had been dying. Instead she moved to lean into him, her fingers moving slowly down his throat to his chest to thread gently through the coarse male hair there.
“We’ve spent enough time chasing someone from my past who may well be dead. And we’ve spent enough time away from Harry, your brothers and the Comanche, for only God knows where Te’tukhe is. And I could not endure it were we to arrive at Allard’s cabin to find Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’ gone, having left for Comanche lands knowing full well you had lost your chance to farewell them. So yes, it is over.”
Ryder pulled her to him, kissing the top of her hair which was almost dry. They talked for a while of their son, how long it would take to reach the Hŭŋkpapĥa and what might have held Te’tukhe up. And they spoke of everyone they knew in England.
But as the night deepened, as they finally began to feel warm and their blankets and furs began to dry, they both became aware of the sound of water out there in the dark. Ryder took a brand of fire and went out to the ledge, leaning over to drop it into the gorge. It fell some forty feet or more, lighting the walls of the gorge as it fell before hitting the water, the flame extinguished at once leaving the gorge once more in utter blackness. Ryder shuddered and returned to the overhang. “There is more water, but its rising slowly,” he said.
Later, as they ate more of the meat, an eerie boom echoed around the cliffs as an old tree succumbed to the high winds, falling somewhere in that forest high above them. Madeleine was aware of Ryder’s restlessness. When he made a move to go back out in the rain to check on the horses, out into that utter dark, Madeleine held him back. She didn’t want him to leave her, she didn’t want him going out there alone, without a firebrand. She had a feeling if he did, he wouldn’t come back. So when he fell asleep from exhaustion, without even knowing that he slept, as he sat leaning up against the sandstone wall she left him alone, allowing her thoughts to linger on her memories of Deinde'-paggwe. But those memories became painful and made her restless.
She stood up, moving in silence so she didn’t wake Ryder and put more wood on the fire by the entrance, pausing to take deep breaths of that cool forest air as she crouched near the opening, just out of the rain. It was still pouring, although the rain wasn’t as torrential as before, allowing her to hear the water running through the gorge just below them.
It frightened her. It was like some dangerous snarling thing, caged just below them, waiting to strike.
She could see nothing beyond the light of the fire. It was so dark she knew she wouldn’t be able to see her hand in front of her face if she stepped outside, for the heavy clouds stopped any light from the stars or moon breaking through. Nor could she hear the horses, just up there in the trees. But she couldn’t worry about them now.
She pulled the blanket close, feeling the urgency now to reach the Hŭŋkpapĥa and get back to Harry and the girls. But even as she thought on it, this journey had been a race against time from the very beginning. From when she left London almost two years ago, it had been a race to get across the Atlantic before winter, then to get to the Omaha before the bitter cold and snows fell. Then a race to reach the Mandan. Now they were pushing north to reach Allard’s cabin before Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’ left for the Comanche. And then the race west, to reach the Snake River Plain and the Bannock village before the bitterly cold winters of that high mountain country set in.
Thinking on it, Madeleine felt the fatigue seep into her bones and she closed her eyes, wishing they were there already, wishing she could hold her son. For this was the longest they had been apart since he was born and was an ache that wouldn’t be soothed until she held him in her arms.
She turned as she heard Ryder come up behind her and she fell back against the hard core of him as his arms went about her shoulders. She felt safe with him, she felt at home in his arms.
“I don’t remember falling asleep,” he said softly, his voice husky with fatigue as he bent to kiss her neck. “But I had the strangest dream of Harry. He was laughing, running through a field of wild flowers and beside him was esa. It was so real it woke me,” he moved to lean his head against her own. “I think of him constantly,” he said, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “And I think of all the years I lost and try not to feel bitterness.”
Madeleine closed her eyes, feeling the depth of his pain even as she was aware of his smell and the sound of his deep baritone. “Hush, halfbreed,” she whispered. “Don’t dwell on what you’ve lost, my dearest love. Just think on what you’ve gained. And like you, I wish with all my heart that you had been with us all those years. But your time with Harry will come. He is young. He does not remember the years you were gone. It is more a loss for you, I think. But give him time and he will grow to love you. For how could he not? You are his image. And I do believe he has all of your goodness and all of your passion and none of my coldness.”
“There’s nothing remotely cold about you, my love,” Ryder said smiling. “But go and sleep while you can. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
Madeleine shook her head. “It’s not sleep I need, halfbreed,” she whispered, holding his gaze for a long moment until he moved to kiss her. His lips were warm and soft as they touched her forehead, her nose, her cheeks and then her mouth. She met his kiss hungrily, with an urgency that surprised Ryder and with a groan he moved to pick her up, her weight nothing to him and carried her back to their fire. He laid her gently on his own blanket, their lovemaking slow and tender, lit by the soft glow from the two fires as the rain fell outside, in a world as primitive and untouched as it had been centuries before.
*
Madeleine lay with her head on Ryder’s arm kissing that soft part just above the elbow, licking him, tasting him as he lay back, half asleep, his arms and legs spread wide, open and trusting, his naked body beautiful and strong and hard, his long black hair loose about his shoulders. He had a good body, despite the scars he had endured during those years they were apart. Even the long ridged white scar on his lower right leg, received from an encounter with esa all those years ago, was now barely visible.
He was a powerful looking man. His mouth looked bruised from their lovemaking, his hands, big and callused yet so gentle, moved a little as he dozed and dreamed of something far beyond this shelter. Madeleine lay watching him in awe of his beauty, hardly daring to move in case she woke him. And when he sighed and rolled over, opening his eyes, his face only inches from her own, she held his gaze and everything she needed to know about him was right there in those blue Benedict eyes, dark with love. He reached out to pull her close so that their bodies were touching and as she lay against him, he caressed her lower back, knowing she liked it there.
“How is it possible to love you as I do?” he said softly. “Indeed, I don’t have the words for it, nor the understanding. And I know full well that if the world were to end on the morrow, then I would die a happy man, oblivious to it all, as long as I was with you.”
Madeleine moved to kiss his mouth, tasting their own lovemaking on his lips. “And I also, halfbreed,” she said and then at last she closed her eyes and slept.
*
She dreamed of a girl. A young woman who’s face she couldn’t see, was running through the woods yet something was chasing her, a monster, for the girl was terrified. And in the dream, as if she knew that Madeleine dreamed of her, she turned and looked back, holding her gaze. Madeleine uttered a low drawn out cry of anguish, as the girl stared back at her with haunted eyes, her face and body bruised, her clothing worn, her arms and legs covered in scratches t
aken from thorns and thickets.
Madeleine woke in fright, sitting up, breathing hard. She turned as Ryder came back from the edge of the overhand where he had been sitting with his musket, looking out at the dark night, where it still rained.
“Are you alright?” he asked, coming back to her.
Madeleine pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, then nodded. “A dream, nothing more,” she said, wishing she could clear the image of the girl who was running, haunted with fear and sadness.
She reached for her waterskin and took a drink, her hands still trembling from the images she had seen, unable to shake a feeling of such dread and hopelessness that she dared not speak it aloud.
*
Around dawn Ryder woke and dressed, their clothes and belongings still damp despite the two fires burning all night. He didn’t bother putting more logs on the fire for the low coals gave out enough heat for the short amount of time they would be here. He moved to step outside.
It had stopped raining, but the day was cloudy with low mist drifting around the trees. He peered over the ledge into the gorge below and was stunned to find the water had risen more than thirty feet during the night. And it was still rising, he could see the swift flowing depths of it just a few feet below from where he stood. He felt a moment of fear as he watched it, knowing how deep that gorge was. He looked down the ravine, at the high, sheer cliff walls that rose above him and wondered where all this water went. If he and Madeleine got sucked into it, they might never get out.
He left the overhang and hurried up to where he’d left the horses hobbled. But they were fine, standing half asleep in a glade. He wiped them down with his saddle blanket then returned to the overhang, eager to be gone from this place.
Madeleine was dressed, their blankets rolled up and the duelling pistols rewrapped in the buckskin when he entered their shelter, her fingers busy twisting her long hair into a single plait down her back.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, feeling an urgency about it as he picked up his saddle and their furs. Madeleine agreed, as eager as he was to move on.
Sans Arc territory: May 1805
Te’tukhe dismounted and ran to the end of the bank, crouching low, his body tense as he squinted west to look at the hill way in the distance. It was covered in woods of oak, birch and alder and for a moment he wondered if he had got it wrong, if his eyes had deceived him.
But no, there they were again.
Four men, four horses. They weren’t following him, Te’tukhe was sure of that, indeed they had no reason to follow him, but this was the second time in three days he had seen them, although three days ago they had been heading south. Now it seemed they had doubled back. Yet for what reason?
Te’tukhe watched as three of them dismounted and crouched to look in detail at the ground, before turning towards the shrubs and trees nearby. They were tracking something, or someone.
And then he uttered a low soft oath as he watched the fourth man. He had deteriorated even in three days. Slumped low on the back of his horse, his head and shoulders bowed as though he were in pain, it was obvious the man was sick.
Te’tukhe saw him raise his arm and wipe his buckskin sleeve across his face, to remove the sweat that ran in fine threads down his forehead and cheeks. And then he shifted in the saddle again, awkwardly, causing the horse to spin around and only then did Te’tukhe see the rawhide bandage around the man’s upper thigh.
Te’tukhe grimaced in distaste, wondering how the man managed to stay astride his horse for even from this distance he could see the wound was putrid, for the material was seeped with fresh blood and other liquids.
The men were dressed in buckskin clothing, of shirts and loincloths over buckskin leggings, suggesting they came from a local tribe. He could also see the tattoos on their faces and down their necks which suggested they were Sioux.
Te’tukhe watched them until the three men mounted their horses and rode on, heading west. He frowned, wondering how he could avoid them, for they seemed an unfavourable bunch. And after avoiding another group of such men not long after splitting up from Mi'wasa and Esa-mogo'ne’, he had no wish to make the acquaintance of these four.
It had been the smell of wood smoke and butchered meat that alerted him to their camp and he had ridden to high ground before seeing a large party of men, some fifty or more, camped in a large clearing less than a mile below him. Teton Sioux. He had come across this tribe once before while with Allard Lemoine and had no wish to repeat it. They were an aggressive people, expecting payment from anyone caught travelling through their lands and Te’tukhe had no desire to lose a knife or musket in exchange for the privilege of passing through this territory. He had turned back the way he had come, eager to warn Esa-mogo'ne’ and Mi'wasa about this large camp of men.
Except he never found them. Only their tracks, for they had veered northeast, riding closer to Arikara lands, taking a risk to do so. Te’tukhe had pushed his horse hard as he followed them, arriving at the Mandan village in the evening during a storm, only to discover Mi'wasa and Esa-mogo'ne’ had ridden out some hours earlier. With every confidence he could catch them the following day, he accepted the Mandan’s invitation to stay the night, to take shelter from the high winds and torrential rains.
Except one night had turned into two, although Te’tukhe hadn’t been too bothered about the delay, for he knew his brother and Esa-mogo'ne’ would also have sought shelter during the storm. To ride through it would have been madness.
But during his two-day stay with the Mandan, despite discreet enquiries, it seemed Deinde'-paggwe was nothing more than a ghost. No-one wanted to talk about any girl from any western tribe who had lived at the Mandan village in the past five years and after a few of the men started glancing at Te’tukhe with unease, he gave up. If she had been at the Mandan village, she wasn’t now.
He moved away from the bank and back to his horse, feeling restless and agitated, for he was now three days behind his brother and Esa-mogo'ne’ and by the time he rode around those four men, those three days might quickly become a week. He paused before he swung himself up into the saddle and thought on the tracks he had been following. Two sets. Three horses.
The first set of tracks had belonged to Mi'wasa and Esa-mogo'ne’. He would know them anywhere, for he had been following them long enough.
The second set of tracks were more puzzling. But it was one horse, carrying a light load. Possibly a small man, or even a woman. Or even a couple of children.
He stood up, frowning. Someone was following his brother and Esa-mogo'ne’ and had been since they left the Mandan village, although like him, they were several days behind them.
He mounted his horse in one easy leap and turned north, kicking the animal into a light run. One week. No more than one week. He couldn’t afford to drag it out any longer. Otherwise his brother would think something had happened to him and the last thing Te’tukhe wanted, was Mi'wasa doubling back to find out why.
in the wild: May 1805
One
They made camp by a high rock wall for it provided a wall of protection behind them. And as Madeleine and Ryder settled around the fire to eat a wild turkey roasting above the flames which they had caught earlier, they spoke of Te’tukhe’s delay.
“He’s one of the best trackers I know,” Ryder said. “He should have been with us days ago. And God knows, we left an easy enough trail for him to follow.”
Madeleine said nothing, for she could offer Ryder few words of comfort, for she was also concerned about Te’tukhe.
“I’ll take first watch,” Ryder said after their meal, bending to kiss her lightly on the mouth. Her lips felt cold to his touch, although the night was warm.
But Madeleine knew that sleep would be hard won for both of them tonight and after she crawled under her furs, she lay there for a long time and watched Ryder pace restlessly about their camp. And just before she closed her eyes, she saw him stand beyond the light of their fire and look out int
o the dark night, back towards the Mandan village.
*
She woke instantly to Ryder’s soft call, followed by the sound of hoofbeats and a horse blowing, the noise unnatural in the stillness of the night. She grabbed her musket and rolled out of her furs. Ryder was crouched just off to her left in the shadows, looking down the slope to where he had also heard the horse. He turned as she ran towards him, then they moved back into the dark under the trees.
“This rider comes in too slow,” she whispered. “It’s not Te’tukhe, he would have called to us.”
They waited as the horse come up the slight rise but before the animal and rider came into view, they heard the whimper of a child. And then the sound of laboured breathing. They both stood up, stunned, as the horse and rider appeared at the edge of their firelight. Ryder turned in bewilderment as Madeleine uttered a soft oath of astonishment then she walked out to meet the elderly woman and child.
The woman was clearly unwell. Her ragged breathing seemed to fill the still night and as Madeleine reached up to stop the horse, putting a hand on its rawhide bridle, the little girl looked at her with dismay. She sat huddled within the old woman’s arms, sheltered against her frail body yet as Ryder came up beside Madeleine, he thought the woman appeared only semi-conscious.
Ryder quickly released the child from the woman’s grasp and passed her to Madeleine. The little girl made not a sound, but her whole body with stiff with fear as Madeleine held her. She was shivering with the cold, her clothes damp and filthy and Madeleine hurried back to the fire with her, where the child sat in silence, watching as Madeleine returned to help Ryder with the woman.
He carried her over to the fire and laid her down by the child. She weighed hardly anything at all. What food she had, she had obviously given to the girl. She was as cold and filthy as the child, her clothes, blankets and buffalo robe all damp from the rain. Madeleine found a waterskin they had shared between them, but it was empty. A couple of good quality leather bags were also empty.
