by Sadie Conall
“This knife belongs to you Esa-mogo'ne’. It was stolen by Hanyewi’winyan and given to me, but in fact it is yours. I wish for you to have it back.”
I pulled the knife from its sheath and looked at it, feeling the weight and craftsmanship of it. I had chosen this knife carefully before I purchased it, wanting only the best for Ese-ggwe’na’a. But now it was no longer mine to give. I had traded it for something more precious, more than a year ago. I resheathed it and held it out towards Deinde'-paggwe.
“I don’t think your father would mind at all if you claimed ownership of it, indeed, you saved my life with this knife, I consider it yours to keep.”
The girl paused for a moment then took the knife, placing it back under her belt, around her waist. She looked up at me, her eyes shining and I put an arm about her shoulders as we walked back to camp, Kimana between us.
*
I felt Ryder’s eyes linger on me as we walked back into camp so I moved to sit beside him, leaning into him, feeling the heat of him while Deinde'-paggwe insisted on making me another poultice for my wound. And when she turned to glance across at me, as I met her gaze, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before and I felt as though something within her had lifted, as if she had let something go.
Te’tukhe agreed to take the first watch. He would wake Ryder later and then I would take the last watch before dawn.
I never heard Ryder get up, but only an hour or so before dawn I woke to find Te’tukhe asleep and no sign of Ryder. Panicking, wondering why Ryder hadn’t woken me, I rolled out of my furs and hurried back into the shadows to find him.
He was sitting on a high boulder looking out across the river, the first faint rays of dawn just starting to turn the deep black of night to soft grey. I watched him for a moment as he sat there, so still, so beautiful in that dawn light, protecting us as we slept, a man looking like he’d been hewn from granite, his profile glorious as he stared out across the water and as I hurried silently across to him, climbing the boulders to reach him, he moved, startled, until he realized it was me then he held out his hand. It was callused, but warm and big around my own and I loved it, gripping it securely as I joined him on the boulder, cuddling into him, finding the hard male strength of him such a comforting thing.
“You didn’t wake me to take my turn at watch,” I said, scolding him gently.
“You looked so deep in sleep, I don’t think I could have woken you had I tried,” he said, bending to kiss me lightly on the lips. “And what were a few more hours for me. Besides, I took pleasure in watching you. I had a good vantage point from here.”
I rubbed my face slowly against his arm, taking his scent, loving him more than I could ever show him. “Go and try and sleep now my love, just for a couple of hours,” I said to him, my voice soft in that early dawn. “I’ll take my turn now.”
He shook his head. “Te’tukhe will be awake in an hour. I’ll just stay for a bit longer, then I’ll make some coffee. If I fall asleep now, I won’t wake up.”
I leaned into him. “I love you,” I whispered.
“And I you,” he said softly back to me. He looked tired, his eyes hollow with exhaustion, the lines on his face showing stress beneath the week-old stubble, for neither he nor Te’tukhe had bothered to shave for days. But his blue eyes were as glorious as ever.
I turned and kissed him again, a chaste kiss, our mouths barely touching, for we both knew it wasn’t the time to make love. That would come later, for we hoped to reach the Hŭŋkpapĥa village by late afternoon. I longed to sleep in the privacy of our own teepee tonight.
“I can’t wait to see Harry,” he said, his arm going about my waist and pulling me close. “I can’t wait to get settled and just live a life with you both,” and I heard the longing and regret in his voice.
“It will come, halfbreed,” I said, cuddling even closer to him. “We have years ahead of us to make up for what we lost and I intend to make every one of them count.”
Ryder nodded and kissed my forehead, careful of the poultice there. I felt his whiskers, the graze of them against my skin hard yet welcoming and as I turned to meet his gaze I thought him so like his Ugákhpa brothers in that moment that I was stunned by it.
“Are you happy?” I asked, needing to know, wanting him to say yes, that all this had been worthwhile and not just the ride to the Mandan, but his leaving England to follow me and Harry.
“Haa, of course, how could I not? There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than right here, on this boulder with you,” he said then sighed, laying his chin against the top of my head. “You smelled so wonderful after your bath last night, I could have ravaged you right there,” he said, moving uncomfortably, his male body betraying his thoughts.
I laughed. “Had I known it, I would have come to you earlier,” I said and he smiled.
“Do you know, there are times when I feel like we’ve been riding so hard for so long, that none of us have had time to draw breathe. I know that will change once we reach the Snake River Plain, but that’s months away yet. Although I’m grateful we’re together and I’m grateful I’ve had this time with you and Te’tukhe. But I also hope Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’ are still at Allards, for I would very much like to see them before they leave for the Comanche.”
I nodded, closing my eyes in contentment as I listened to the deep baritone of his voice. I was acutely aware of the raw male scent of him, of his chest rising and falling beneath me and the beat of his heart in my ear.
“Me also, halfbreed,” I said softly. “I’m just so grateful that you’re here. I’d rather die than lose you again, for I know I couldn’t bear to live my live without you in it.”
“I know,” he whispered, “for I feel the same.”
We sat together and watched the first strike of sunrise pierce the dawn sky way off to the east, which gave some light to that clearing in which Te’tukhe, Deinde'-paggwe and Kimana lay deep in sleep. The river ran just behind them, a pleasant sound in that utter stillness and then a bird’s shrill cry far away, deep in the forest shattered the quiet. Te’tukhe stirred, but he lingered in his furs a little longer.
“He’s as exhausted as we both are,” Ryder said, looking over at his brother.
We watched the sky change colour, as if something sacred far above us were happening in the heavens, the bright yellow, crimson and pink slashing across the dark and grey as if a vicious battle were being fought unseen. And as the shadows lifted around our camp, Te’tukhe rose from his furs and moved down to the river to wash, motivating Ryder and I to also move.
Yet as we climbed down from the boulders, as Ryder watched his brother disappear among the trees, I suddenly felt his tension but recognised it for what it was. A longing for something he could never have.
For soon after our arrival at the Lemoine cabin, Ryder must farewell his brothers, possibly forever, for Te’tukhe and Wesa'shangke would leave with Aishi-waahni’ for Comanche lands before the onslaught of winter.
I didn’t mention it. There was no need. Because that farewell loomed ahead for all of us.
Lakota territory: June 1805
One
As they left the cool shelter of the woods and rode out onto the rolling grasslands and into the full heat of the afternoon sun, they saw the riders sitting astride their horses on a hill, less than a mile off to their left. There were fifteen of them and they sat silent and watchful as the small group rode out from under cover of the trees, as though waiting for them.
“Who are they?” Ryder asked Te’tukhe.
“Hopefully Hŭŋkpapĥa,” Te’tukhe answered, pulling his turban hat a little further down his forehead, shading his eyes to see them better, even as the men continued to sit in silence, watching.
“Although they could be Blackfeet, but we’re miles from their borders. We’ll keep moving. They’ll either follow, or ride off. If they’re Blackfeet they won’t bother us, because they know we’re on Hŭŋkpapĥa land. They won’t
want a war.”
They continued on for another few miles aware of the men on the hill watching them, but once they rode beneath the hill the riders suddenly moved, kicking their horses on to keep abreast of them. They were intimidating in their silence.
“How far to Allard’s cabin?” Ryder asked.
Te’tukhe turned and nodded to the rolling grasslands ahead of them. “Not even an hour’s ride from here. When we crest the next hill, you’ll see his place. The Hŭŋkpapĥa village lies some five miles to the west.”
It was lovely country with fertile, rolling hills and grasslands as far as the eye could see.
“If they’re Hŭŋkpapĥa, they’re not a friendly bunch,” Madeleine said.
Te’tukhe glanced at her. “The Hŭŋkpapĥa are part of the Lakota Sioux. They’re a fierce people. They’ll cut you down in the blink of an eye if you do them wrong. But don’t worry overly much Esa-mogo'ne’, if they’re Hŭŋkpapĥa men they’ll just be taking the measure of us. We’ll stop soon when we reach that group of elm and see if they come down. If they’re Hŭŋkpapĥa they’ll approach us. If they’re Blackfeet, they’ll ride off.”
They reached the trees less than twenty minutes later, the riders still following them, but keeping their distance. Ryder helped Deinde'-paggwe untie Kimana and let the little girl run and stretch her legs. They took a drink from their waterskins, let the horses have a feed on the rich summer grass, but all the time aware of the men up on the hill.
And then at last they turned, kicked their horses on down the hill and rode towards them. They were Hŭŋkpapĥa then, not Blackfeet.
Te’tukhe stepped forward and raised his arm in greeting, calling out in the dialect of the northern Sioux. “I am Te’tukhe of the Ugákhpa people, son of Hubert Lemoine, cousin of Allard,” he called to them. “We come as friends of Allard and his family.”
The lead man raised his own hand in greeting then reined his horse in not ten feet from Te’tukhe. “Welcome Te’tukhe of the Ugákhpa people. I am Núnpa’sunka’, a scout of the Hŭŋkpapĥa people. We welcome you and your friends to our lands. Your cousin will be pleased to see you, for he and his sons only recently arrived back from the village of the Wazhazhe. But come, let us ride with you.”
He waited while they remounted, then kicked his horse on to ride alongside Te’tukhe while the other fourteen Hŭŋkpapĥa men circled the small group, riding as escort.
They were an impressive looking bunch. Dressed in buckskin with leather vests decorated with painted icons, some of buffalos, others of eagles and ravens. Some of the men wore elaborate beaded necklaces which fell almost to their waists while others wore smaller necklaces crafted in bone. Most wore fur or strips of rawhide threaded through plaits worn on each side of their face, with feathers woven within their hair at the back of their head.
They rode mostly in silence with few words exchanged, even when the hill began to flatten out and several cabins rose before them. And it became clear, as they got closer, that Allard and his family didn’t live in one cabin, but within a compound.
One large cabin sat among a dozen smaller ones, all constructed in a semi-circle around a large yard. In the centre of the yard was a massive fire pit, dug some two feet into the earth and surrounded by logs hewn with axes to create seating for at least fifty people.
To the right of the cabins, grazing on lush rolling grasslands, were dozens of horses and men on horseback were riding among them, guarding them.
To the left was a dense wood which swept away for several miles to the west. Between these trees and the compound was a wide shallow river.
To the rear of the buildings lay more fertile rolling land and on this were raised more than twenty teepees, some of the hides decorated with plaited rawhide and dyed with reds and ochres and whites, while others were decorated with shells. Intricate drawings of buffalos, wolves and horses adorned some, while paintings of the sunrise, sunset, moon and stars were on others, along with every bird imaginable.
At the far edge of these teepees sat two more, yet both were bare of decoration and looked rather bland next to their colourful neighbours. Madeleine recognized them as her own, traded with the Omaha and Kansa.
There were people everywhere. Women and children sat and worked together in groups outside teepees and the main cabin, curing hides, weaving baskets, making jewellery or sewing clothes, using pieces of buckskin and fur to make shirts and pants and moccasins. Others were up in the woods, while some children were down by the riverbank, playing or collecting water.
When the small group and their Hŭŋkpapĥa escort were less than a mile from the cabins, a shrill cry went up from someone near the teepees. And every man, woman and child in that compound turned to see these new visitors.
“I thought Allard had a basic cabin here,” Ryder called out to Te’tukhe.
His brother turned to him and laughed. “There are at least thirty people in Allard’s immediate family. They all come and go as they please for everyone is welcome here as you’ll see for yourself soon enough. And the Hŭŋkpapĥa often come up from the village to trade or visit, for this is all on Hŭŋkpapĥa land so everyone considers it an extension of the village anyway,” Te’tukhe turned as several dogs suddenly came running out from the far side of the compound.
Like the Mandan dogs these were part wolf, part mongrel and as they raced towards the visitors, snarling and barking, a man in his winter years with long grey hair stepped out from one of the smaller cabins and uttered a high shrill whistle. The dogs immediately fell back as the man yelled at them in a Sioux dialect. He held a long staff, a wooden branch honed with a fine axe and beautifully carved and as he thumped it against the wooden logs of his cabin, the dogs all turned and raced back to him.
And then more shrill cries as the men who had been in the field with the horses turned and raced towards them. Two of the men were Wesa'shangke and Aishi-waahni’ and riding alongside them was Wakanta, their stepbrother, Hubert Lemoine’s son to his Wazhazhe wife. Ryder didn’t know the other men.
“We only got here ourselves about a week ago,” Wesa'shangke called out, nodding towards Madeleine before glancing across at Deinde'-paggwe and Kimana. “And I see your journey was not wasted.”
A crowd had begun to gather by the time they rode into the yard and as they reined their horses in and dismounted, the door to the main cabin opened and a woman in her late forties stepped out onto the wide boardwalk that ran the length of the building. Wesa'shangke introduced her as Ska’zica, Allard’s Hŭŋkpapĥa wife. Behind her came a teenage girl and Madeleine heard Deinde'-paggwe gasp, a sound full of anguish and joy and disbelief as she recognized her cousin. Poongatse paused for only a moment, staring in astonishment, then she uttered a cry and came racing across the boardwalk and the yard to fling her arms about Deinde'-paggwe just as a little boy suddenly poked his head out around the doorframe. It was Harry. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw his parents and Te’tukhe, but before he could step out onto the boardwalk, Madeleine raced towards him, sweeping him up in her arms, smothering him in kisses.
“Naughty Mama, you left me too long this time,” the child said, scolding her in French.
Ryder struggled to follow the conversations going on around him, for everyone now spoke in Sioux, including his brothers and the Comanche and Ska’zica. He heard Allard’s name mentioned, but the words were spoken too fast for him to understand. Besides, he kept turning back to watch Madeleine and Harry. And if he ever doubted it, he now saw for himself what everyone had always told him. The boy was his double. His heart swelled with love for the child as he heard him speaking in rapid French to Ska’zica who stood beside Madeleine, when another teenage girl appeared at the door behind them.
It was Wannge’e. Ryder struggled to hide his surprise and didn’t dare glance at Te’tukhe, but he wondered if his brother knew. He was aware that Te’tukhe had turned, even as the girl stepped out of the cabin to greet Madeleine and Harry, her hand resting on her belly, the bulge beneath he
r shift dress revealing she was with child.
But Madeleine had known about the babe way back in March, that night Wannge’e had challenged Te’tukhe in front of everyone about riding north to the Mandan to rescue Deinde'-paggwe.
“Are you well?” she asked, as Wannge’e leaned forward to embrace her. The Bannock girl nodded, but neither spoke of the pregnancy, for now wasn’t the time or place. Besides, the girl had eyes only for Te’tukhe.
Madeleine glanced back at him and Ryder, saw Te’tukhe’s bewilderment at he looked at Wannge’e’s swollen belly then she saw Ryder smile as Te’tukhe’s hard, handsome features relaxed and he laughed aloud. Ryder thought it a laugh of triumph. Madeleine thought it smug masculine pride. Wannge’e thought of it as success, but still she didn’t go to him for she knew that wasn’t Te’tukhe’s way to show his feelings in public. So she stayed with Madeleine and Harry on the boardwalk with Ska’zica until Deinde'-paggwe came forward to embrace her, with Kimana in Poongatse’s arms.
But as Ryder stepped forward to go to his son, four riders came racing out of the woods, crossing the shallow river to push their horses into a run towards the compound. It was Allard Lemoine. With him were two Hŭŋkpapĥa men along with Chahn-yah’-hoo, his son by Ska’zica.
“We saw you and the Hŭŋkpapĥa scouts not five miles back, coming up the hill towards the cabins. We raced back in the hope of being here to meet you. Alas, we are too late,” Allard called out in French, dismounting to embrace Te’tukhe then Ryder.
Ryder had last seen Allard Lemoine and his sons in St Louis last year. It had been a timely meeting, not only because it had changed his plans and saved him months of unnecessary riding, but Allard had revealed to Ryder the bitter rivalry which had existed between Torrance Benedict and Hubert Lemoine.
“I’m eager to hear of your journey,” he said, glancing across at Deinde'-paggwe and Kimana before looking at Madeleine with curiosity.
Ryder stepped forward to introduce them and Allard was gracious in his welcome. Madeleine met his gaze, seeing the strength in his face and eyes. This was a man who wouldn’t turn his back on anyone, although he expected others to give in return what he offered so freely. He would not be a man you would want to cross.
