Guilt chewed at Windrider’s conscience. He fretted over his past, present, and future actions. What if he had been mistaken? What if he hadn’t received a message from Grandfather to pass along warning words about these white-eyes and their expedition? Was he misguiding and fooling himself? Should he not have interfered in Bright Arrow’s vision quest? Would his intrusion cause his friend’s defeat and death? Was he selfishly sacrificing his friend’s life to steal his woman? Could it be that the white woman with her face obscured in his own vision wasn’t Rebecca? What if he were changing everyone’s fates just to feed his ravenous desires? Wouldn’t the Great Spirit prevent his friend’s trek if it were wrong or lethal?
And there were other pressing matters for Windrider to consider. What if Weasel Tail exposed Windrider’s intrusion into Bright Arrow’s vision? What if Cloud Chaser revealed their original plot? What if Bright Arrow grasped victory for himself and Rebecca? Should he allow his feelings for her to run so wild and free before she was actually his? What if he lost her? What if he lost Bright Arrow’s friendship and trust—or caused him to lose his life?
Bright Arrow observed his Cheyenne friend for a time. “What troubles you so deeply, Windrider?” he questioned.
“I fear I can no longer tell the difference between my wishes and those of Grandfather,” he admitted openly, worriedly. “How does a man know if his desires overpower Grandfather’s wishes? How does a man truly know when he is selfish or mistaken? How does he know when he follows his dreams and not the path of Grandfather?”
“If a man has the courage and honor to ask himself such questions, he need not worry over making a selfish or wrong decision. Why do such questions enter your mind this day?” Bright Arrow probed.
Windrider gave his imminent confession grave deliberation. He had no choice but to clear his conscience and possibly save his friend’s life. “There is something I must tell you about the vision quest we shared. Before I returned to camp to prepare with you for the quest, Weasel Tail of the Sans Arc told me of the white-eyes and their journey into our lands. I did not know what to do with such facts. Grandfather held my tongue silent. He awoke me from the vision first instructing me to tell you of these strange white-eyes while you were held prisoner by the peyote. He told me you were the one chosen to defeat them. While you swayed under the powerful spell of the peyote, I put the news of them into your mind.”
He sighed heavily. “Now I fear I followed my wishes to have you out of Rebecca’s life, not the command of Grandfather. There are strange stirrings across our lands and in my mind. I fear my words will bring the death of my friend Bright Arrow. I fear this quest will cost me our friendship. You must be told this message of the whites came from Weasel Tail and me. Before you continue this journey, you must be certain this quest is commanded by Grandfather, not inspired by my words during your vision quest. We must be sure my words are a true message from Grandfather,” he declared honestly.
Bright Arrow affectionately and proudly clasped his friend’s shoulder, then genially encouraged, “Do not worry, my friend. Grandfather sends his messages in many strange ways. I feel in my heart and mind my quest is the will of Grandfather. Put your heart and mind at ease. Return home and seek the face from your vision.” As soon as those last words left his mouth, he knew Windrider would misinterpret them. Yet he did not explain himself. In time, Grandfather would unblind his friend’s eyes.
Bright Arrow placed his supplies in the canoe, stepped inside, and lifted the paddle. He smiled at Windrider, then pushed off from the riverbank. Just before he rounded a bend that would take him out of sight, Bright Arrow turned and waved farewell to his friend.
Windrider solemnly observed his friend until the canoe vanished, mutely praying for Bright Arrow’s success and survival. Then he loaded his supplies and mounted up to head home. The sky was clear and warm. The signs on the land hinted at a late winter. It was time to return home and help with the last buffalo hunt of this season. In ten and two moons, he would enter his village. He would gaze into the warm eyes of the woman who was the answer to his dreams, to his vision. Excitement and eagerness surged through him. He had been honest with his friend. He had ceased all plots and games. He kneed his horse and rode eastward toward home, to his new love, and to his destiny.
Early that same morning, the Cheyenne camp had awakened to a frightening reality. Many bodies were consumed by fiery fever. Many lay prostrate on their mats, depending on the love and assistance of others. Some dark poison raced through their bodies, threatening to slay them while they lay helpless and weak. Too many were ill with the same symptoms for them to deny the truth spoken by the two white women. The bleak message of doom traveled rapidly through the camp. The horror of this illness touched each Cheyenne mind and heart, for there was no way to fight such a lethal and greedy foe.
Medicine Girl anxiously tended her father and her brother, Chief Yellow Robe and Big Crow. She forced down their dry throats a brew made from the feverwort bark, but the fever raged on, climbing higher. She steamed a liquid from the willow bark, which she had obtained from the Teton’s Dakota brothers in the woodlands to the east. The fever and anguish did not subside. Medicine Girl worried over this strange condition that would not respond to any of her herbs and treatments.
Even the medicine chief, Running Elk, had no power to halt its swift progress in Medicine Girl’s tepee or in any others. He went from tepee to tepee casting his spells, shaking his gourds, and singing his healing chants, performing the dance to drive out the evil spirits, giving herbs and aid, praying to all the spirits of the earth and heaven, and passing out sacred amulets to those who were the sickest. Nothing worked. The insidious illness consumed their bodies with fire and attacked more victims. In some tepees, all who lived there were struck down by the unseen enemy. Friends and families did all they could to comfort those laid low. Running Elk returned to his medicine lodge to fast and pray, calling on the Great Spirit to show him the path to free his people.
In the tepee of Windrider far from their camp, the scene and terror were much the same. Tansia, Pretty Rabbit, and Moon Eyes were engulfed by the fierce flames of high fever. All precautions had been taken since they learned of the possible contamination of the beads in Tansia’s possession. Tashina and Silent Thunder had been kept away from the other girls. The four had not been allowed to touch anything that others touched or used. They had each been given their own drinking horn, eating container, garments, and sleeping mat, and their possessions had been kept separate from the women’s and two smaller children’s. Very early that morning, they discovered their caution had not been in vain.
In preparing for the possibility of illness striking their tepee, Rebecca and Bonnie had cut down small trees and constructed a lean-to a short distance away. Those who became ill would be taken there and tended. The air would help cool fiery bodies, and the distance would hopefully protect the healthy ones. Rebecca had continued her hunting and fishing to provide food for their camp. Sucoora had labored hard to dry as much meat and vegetables as possible for use later. In case of an emergency, extra wood and water had been collected.
Since Bonnie was safe from the disease, she insisted on caring for the stricken girls. She moved their possessions outside and, in turn, she lifted and carried each child to the lean-to and placed her on her mat. The girls were too weak and fuzzy headed to argue. For hours Bonnie bathed hot bodies and faces to soothe them. She used the herbs and medicines that Sucoora had transported in a parfleche. She knew all she could do was offer comfort and help, and she wept over the suffering of the small children and raged at her inability to cure them. All she could think about was helping these three girls and saving the five others from this dread disease. Would she be blamed if these girls died? she wondered dejectedly.
Rebecca sat rigidly near the tepee, her teary eyes glued on the tormenting sight at the lean-to. She had persuaded Sucoora to keep Tashina and Silent Thunder inside the tepee for their protection, and to keep Little Feet
away from all of the other children. Rebecca wanted to help the children; she needed to help. But Bonnie had forbidden it, warning her of possible death and disfigurement. She told Rebecca that the girls and Bright Arrow would need her alive and well, that there was nothing she could do but become infected herself. Bonnie cleverly asked her who would care for the other children if Sucoora took ill. Or who would provide their game, water, and wood if Rebecca were attacked by this illness. Bonnie argued and debated Rebecca’s persistent demands and pleas until the older woman was compelled to accept Bonnie’s stern and logical orders. Bonnie had told her the girls would be contagious for nine more days! How could she sit and watch her little Moon Eyes suffer for ten days? How could she sit around and wait for Little Feet’s reaction? She felt so useless, so terrified. She needed to get busy to distract herself!
Later that afternoon, White Antelope approached their somber camp. He told Rebecca she and the white captive had been right about the illness. He related Running Elk’s confusion and lack of power to battle this unknown foe. Then he actually asked for their help and advice!
Enveloped by tension and fear, Rebecca wanted to scream at him that she had warned them about this vicious disease. But she realized that too many were suffering and would suffer, so she could not. She told him to seek answers from Bonnie, if there were any.
White Antelope said many people in the camp were angered and panicked; they were not thinking clearly. He pointed out the fact that a white man had brought this illness to their village, and that she and Bonnie also were white. He warned of impending danger for them if the disease did not cease. When White Antelope said many were suggesting it was an evil spell cast by the white women for revenge, Rebecca’s anger briefly knew no limit. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she feared the hostility and power of an enraged mob. She couldn’t understand why the Cheyenne suspected them of evil.
She shouted at him, “You can’t be serious! How could we be blamed for this horrid event? We’re not magicians or witches; we have no power to bring on illness or bad luck. Look there, White Antelope! My child could be dying. Windrider’s girls could be dying! Would I slay my own child for vengeance? You spoke of madness? The madness lies in your camp and in the minds of your people. I warned your tribe this would happen. I tried to protect my family and Windrider’s by moving out here, but unknowingly we brought the illness with us; Tansia found some trade beads that someone had dropped! I told Yellow Robe to burn the trader’s body and all of his belongings, and that no one should touch them! I warned him to banish for twelve moons anyone who had touched the trader and his goods. If he had listened and obeyed, only those few would be ill and suffering now. He laughed at my words, called them crazy. He accused me of trying to trick the Cheyenne. The Cheyenne are not my enemies; they’ve helped Bright Arrow and his family. I tried to warn you, White Antelope. You also laughed at me and called me crazy. It’s too late now; the illness has spread to Cheyenne bodies and possessions! If we possessed powerful magic, we would use it to help our girls. We are as helpless as you,” she admitted hoarsely and sadly.
The Cheyenne warrior glanced over at the lean-to and observed the scene there. “She’s the only one who can help them,” Rebecca told him. “She’s seen this illness before. She had it as a child and survived. It cannot attack her again. She’s taking care of the girls so we won’t be near it. Speak with her, White Antelope. Your cheeks burn now with the first signs of the fever. Ask her what you must do to live. You have been kind to us. I call you my friend. I wish to see no Cheyenne die; this I swear to you. The same is true of Bonnie. She does not hate her place here; she does not hate the Cheyenne. Tell no one, but she loves Windrider. She would do nothing to hurt him or his people,” she vowed seriously.
When White Antelope hesitated, Rebecca boldly asked, “Do you recall Windrider’s vision? Were you not at the council meeting the night he revealed it?” The Cheyenne warrior looked bewildered. Rebecca ordered firmly, “Look at her. Call Windrider’s words to your mind as I speak. Spirits of the sky will send signs. Her eyes are as blue as the sky; her skin is as white as clouds; her hair is a blend of sunshine and moonlight; stars sparkle in her eyes. She shows much courage and acceptance. She came here following a great sacrifice, after losing her father and all she possessed. She knows the great pain and sadness that attack your camp; only she can help your people. Grandfather has chosen her for Windrider. Can you deny I speak the truth?” she challenged.
“Windrider did not speak of his captive at the meeting,” he argued. “How do you know of his vision?” he asked suspiciously.
“He did not tell me. Do you think Grandfather speaks to no one but warriors? When it suits His purpose, he reveals signs in many ways. I know of his vision, and I know Bonnie is the answer to his quest. Grandfather has not opened his eyes to this truth yet. When he returns, he will see this message was about her. You must tell no one of my words. I revealed this secret to you for your help and understanding. Do not allow anyone to harm her, White Antelope, for she is the only hope for you and your people. Many will die; no one can prevent it. But she can save others if you follow her words. If you tell others she is the answer to his vision, they will doubt this truth; they will doubt her. They will not follow her advice, and many more will suffer. Please, hear her words and follow them,” she urged.
White Antelope mused gravely on Rebecca’s words and pleas. “I will speak with her. I cannot promise my people will listen to her words and follow them. But I will do as you ask; I will hold this secret.”
White Antelope approached the lean-to and called Bonnie to speak with him. They talked for a long time. Finally White Antelope nodded in comprehension and left, while Bonnie returned to her task of mercy.
All day and night Bonnie forced life-sustaining soup and water down the parched throats of the three girls. She knew it was vital to keep liquid and nourishment inside a prostrate victim. She placed wet cloths on their foreheads and dribbed cool water over their slender frames. Once she had to hold a delirious Tansia down when she tried to rise and go to Sucoora for comfort. And the situation only worsened. Little Feet came down with a fever, and Bonnie took her to join the other sick girls. This same pattern continued until twilight the second day when Tansia and Moon Eyes broke out in a rash. Bonnie wept, then prayed for guidance and stamina, for she knew the rash stage should not occur until the third or fourth day after the onset of fever; an early rash indicated a severe case of smallpox, most frequently a lethal one.
With each passing night hour, the rash spread swiftly over both girls. Bonnie knew that two of the most painful areas would be the palms of the hands and the souls of the feet. She blended the mashed stems and leaves of the touch-me-not with a small amount of water. She spread the mixture on the worst areas of the rash to prevent excessive itching. To itch meant to scratch; to scratch meant possible infection. And infection and dehydration were two of the worst perils of this disease.
While the girls slept fitfully just after dawn, Bonnie checked the supply of herbs and plants that Sucoora had given her. There was milk vetch for watery rashes, yellow dock to bring about a discharge of pus from sores or boils, black willow bark to relieve pain and to lower fever, and water avens to dry out purulent sores. For fever, there was also creeping mohonia and western clematis. She wasn’t sure what the bee plant and several other herbs would do, but she knew the water avens was the best treatment for smallpox. The supply was low. She would have to send Rebecca to the meadows or bogs for more. She dreaded to relate this dire change in their condition and decided to keep it a secret for another day or so.
Rebecca left the tepee just as the sun cleared the horizon. Walking as close as she dared to go, she asked Bonnie about the girls, and the younger woman said they were doing as well as could be expected. At a distance, Bonnie told Rebecca of her medicinal needs. Rebecca looked tired and depressed, and Bonnie was worried about her. Rebecca had been doing too much work, supplying all of their food and wood
, tending the two horses. Now she had this added burden of gathering plants and preparing them.
Rebecca told her she would gather the plants as soon as she returned with food. The afternoon before, Rebecca had followed a stream that had forked off from the river, and she had dammed it. Now she asked for Sucoora’s help with the rest of her plan. First they tied leashes around Tashina’s and Silent Thunder’s waists and secured them to a nearby tree. After walking to the river, which was low this time of year from lack of rain, they eased into the water. With Sucoora coming from one direction and Rebecca the other, they splashed and labored until they urged several fish to dart into the side stream. They quickly dropped logs and rocks Rebecca had gathered the day before into the narrow opening, trapping the fish between the two barriers. Now all they had to do was catch them, clean them, and prepare a stew.
Sucoora laughed and squealed in delight. She complimented Rebecca’s cunning and intelligence. Rebecca asked Sucoora to check on the children while she used those wits to figure out how to catch the fish.
An idea came to mind, and she raced back to the tepee and grabbed Bright Arrow’s lance. When she returned, Sucoora warned her of the insult and danger in touching a warrior’s weapon. Rebecca frowned. “Is it better to starve and die or to risk his anger? I must use them. If I’ve stolen their magic, he can make others,” she reasoned.
Sucoora watched as Rebecca speared the fish one by one and tossed them on the bank to die. When the task had been completed, they examined their prizes. There was one large trout, two good-sized bass, and four yellow perch. “You good hunter,” Sucoora remarked with pride and affection. “I clean and cook fish. You get medicine plants.” They suddenly noted each other’s soaked condition and laughed.
After they had taken the two children and fish back to camp, Rebecca yelled to Bonnie that she was leaving to fetch the water avens. She related the success of their “fish hunt.” Bonnie smiled and clapped her hands in pleasure and gratitude. Rebecca playfully bowed, then moved to saddle the horse. With luck, she would return before nightfall, she estimated. She mounted and rode away, after telling Sucoora to save her some fish.
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