Читать книгу Walks Alone - Sandi MDiv Rog - Страница 7

White Eagle held Walks Alone in his arms as she moved against his chest. She had fought sleep long enough and finally lost the battle.

He had never seen a woman more tempting and beautiful. Her long hair cascaded over his thigh. He ached to wrap it around his neck and take in its softness. Instead, he gently moved his fingers through her yellow mane, watching it shimmer against his dark skin.

He found it difficult to have the petite, shapely woman so near and not lose control of his senses. He shifted slightly in an attempt to put some distance between them.

She snuggled in closer.

A sigh escaped her full lips, the kind a man would want to kiss, drawing his attention to the slight upward curve of her nose. He fought the urge to run his forefinger along its freckled bridge, fearing she might awaken. Her thin brows, a tad darker than her hair, didn’t arch quite as sharply now that she slept.

What was a woman like her doing alone in a land like this? She didn’t wear a ring, and there was no indentation of one, showing no signs of having been married. Her clothing told him she didn’t come from any of the Western Territories or States. Why had she been walking alone so far behind the other wagons? Was a relative awaiting her arrival in Denver City? He hoped not. If she didn’t show, they might come looking for her.

“It’ll be dark soon,” Running Cloud said. “We’ll camp tonight on Rocky Ridge. It’ll be safe there.”

White Eagle nodded, fearful of what Running Cloud intended to do with the woman on his horse.

After they had left the settlers, White Eagle, Running Cloud, and the rest of the braves had started off toward the west, but as soon as Walks Alone fell asleep, they had turned south, traveling along the hogbacks. The rolling hills looked like giant loaves of bread he recalled the whites serving at his father’s table. Now they were just beyond the hogbacks west of Denver City and climbing into the Rocky Mountains.

“Black Bear will return to our village,” Running Cloud said. “We need to be prepared.”

White Eagle agreed, contemplating the dangers that lay ahead for both the women.

“I’m honored to have you at my side.”

White Eagle didn’t look at his friend. He knew Running Cloud was trying to make it up to him for forcing the woman on him. He ignored him and continued to run Walks Alone’s golden mane between his fingers.

“Because you saved my life at Sand Creek, I call you White Eagle and my brother, but maybe you prefer receiving Walks Alone over the gift of my blood.” Running Cloud’s brow rose. “I’m not as exciting to look at.”

White Eagle grinned then forced a frown, remembering he was angry with him.

Running Cloud’s expression became serious. “The Great Spirit of the Sun has touched your woman. The people of our village will accept her. I’ll make sure they do,” he said. “Song Bird will be pleased that you’ll finally have a woman to share your blanket.”

Now it was easy for White Eagle to be angry. He didn’t want a wife. Sure, they’d been watching the settlers for a few days, and he’d enjoyed watching Walks Alone soaking in the river. Despite that, he’d never shown any intention of taking her.

“Now you can have what you saw,” Running Cloud said.

White Eagle suspected the next several weeks were going to be very difficult on the Eastern-bred Walks Alone. But how much more difficult would they be on him? He had simply smiled when he laid eyes on her, and now she was in his arms.

“White men treat their women like dogs.” Running Cloud motioned to Woman Of Sorrow’s bruised eye.

The slender woman sat stiff in Running Cloud’s saddle, not saying a word or daring to look to the side. Her hands trembled when she reached up to brush a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“This time she’ll have a better husband,” Running Cloud said, his mouth set in a rigid line.

Woman Of Sorrow was pretty, and White Eagle understood why Running Cloud would want her. But as a wife? Did that mean he wouldn’t ravish her? Running Cloud didn’t understand that white women were not gifts to be taken or given away. Sure, it was common to steal women from enemy tribes and force them to marry, but this was different. White Eagle knew that anger still raged inside Running Cloud towards the white man. So, if he intended to marry her, why? He’d killed the woman’s husband. Was it out of honor or duty that he took her? Maybe he was taking Woman Of Sorrow as his wife to benefit the tribe?

That was it. Running Cloud planned to marry her as a means of securing safety from the white man for his village. If the war chief were to take a white wife, there was a greater chance that the village wouldn’t fall under attack. He recalled Running Cloud voicing those very words just days earlier when they’d spotted Walks Alone by the river. Yet, if news of her kidnapping got out, that could make the situation worse. Either way, he knew Running Cloud would abide by his word and treat the woman with respect as he would any other Cheyenne bride.

That was a relief, but for the first time ever, White Eagle regretted not becoming war chief when it was offered to him. Had White Eagle become war chief, Running Cloud would be beneath him, not the other way around, and both these women would be on their way to Denver City right now.

White Eagle glanced down at Walks Alone’s face, half white, half red. A straight line stretched horizontally across one cheek, over her nose, and across the other cheek, dividing her face. The top, white as snow, the bottom red and sunburned.

“The Great Spirit of the Sun not only touches her hair, but touches her face,” Running Cloud said. “Maybe we should call her Stripe?”

“Then you may have the honor of telling the woman her new name.”

Running Cloud chuckled.

~*~

Anna awoke to find herself on the warrior’s horse and practically drooling on the man’s chest. She pulled away, her hair matted against her cheek from sleep. Heat crept from her neck to her face as she loosened her hold on the Indian. How dreadful. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to fall asleep on him like that. She had actually fallen asleep. In the midst of dangerous peril, she’d fallen asleep!

But she’d been so exhausted and weary from all that had happened, she shouldn’t be too hard on herself for losing what self-control and dignity she had left. Now that her headache was gone and the air cooled, she felt refreshed, despite the fact that she was still held captive.

She looked for Beth and found her still sitting in front of Running Cloud. Beth sat straight, chin high, and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face with surprising calmness. Why could Anna not muster the same?

Evergreens surrounded them, and they were no longer on the plains. The scent of pine filled the air as the horses’ hooves made their way over rocks and rugged terrain. Birds called to one another, and one swooped down close to the riders. The warriors wore solemn faces, seemingly unaware of the beauty surrounding them.

The recent events turned over in Anna’s mind. Earlier, White Eagle had spoken in English. Would he understand her? She cleared her throat. “Did you kill Bet’s husband?” she whispered, horrified at her poor pronunciation, nerves and fear having gotten the best of her.

“Non—no.”

So, he didn’t pull the trigger, but one of his friends certainly did. She wondered who. Why hadn’t they killed the rest of the settlers? And why had they taken her and Beth?

The Indians reined in at the top of a ridge surrounded by large boulders, between which a lovely view of the open plains came into sight.

A shame she couldn’t enjoy it.

White Eagle dismounted. He helped Anna down and set her in front of him, and it was then that she took in his large frame. She only came to his chest, and his broad shoulders hovered over her. She arched her head back to look up into the warrior’s captivating eyes. They were like none she’d ever seen.

He stared down at her, his gaze tracing her features with no evidence of emotion. Unable to bear his unrelenting stare, she looked past him at the trees and turned sideways to rub the soreness from her neck and shoulder as a means of occupying herself.

“Do you ache as much as I do?” Beth came to stand by her as White Eagle led his horse away.

Anna nodded and tried to put some order to her hair, resisting the urge to rub her aching backside.

“We’re blessed they didn’t make us walk.” Beth hugged herself. “Indian women usually have to walk, while the men ride the horses. And the length of time they made those poor horses gallop, they must be in a hurry.”

“Of course they are. They just kidnapped two women.”

Beth took Anna’s trembling hand. That’s when Anna noticed Beth’s hands trembled as well. “The Lord is with us. We mustn’t forget.”

Anna nodded, but all she could think of was how often she’d prayed in the past, how often she’d trusted in the Lord. But He had never rescued her. And now look at the mess she was in. God always seemed to disappear when she needed Him most.

Time to change the subject. “What I don’t understand is how I could have fallen asleep. It makes no sense at all.” It had been easy to relax into White Eagle while the horse galloped. It made the ride smooth, rather that jostling her around when the horse trotted.

Pinching her lips together, Beth studied White Eagle. “I think it’s because you know in your heart he won’t hurt you.”

“How can you say such a thing?”

“Just look at him. He watches you with a sympathetic eye.”

Anna glanced over at White Eagle. He looked away, and she looked at the ground.

“He feels sorry for you,” Beth whispered, continuing to study him. “I’m sure of it.”

The man had just kidnapped her. How could he possibly feel sorry for her? Wishing she could make her hands stop shaking, she tried to keep her hair out of her face. She turned to look for her carpetbag when two Indians came near with two small bags. They opened the cloth sacks and dumped out several turtles at her and Beth’s feet.

Anna jumped back, staring at the black and yellow shells.

“Food,” one of the Indians said with a thick accent.

Anna didn’t take her eyes off the turtles, waiting for scaly heads and arms to appear.

“They’re prairie turtles. I think they expect us to prepare these to eat,” Beth said.

Anna shivered. “Then maybe they can fetch us a rabbit or a chicken. I’ve never touched a turtle before. Let alone eaten one.”

White Eagle set a circle of stones to prepare a fire. From his shoulder strap, he pulled off a small horn and took a sheath from its end.

Anna backed away from the turtles, but to her surprise, Beth picked two up in each hand. “Might as well get started.” Beth motioned to her, still visibly trembling. “You just rest a while. I’ll take care of it.”

Anna couldn’t let Beth do everything alone, so she stepped forward to pick up the remainder of the turtles. She could only manage one, despite its small size. The softness of its bottom shell made her arms weak. As she took slow, cautious steps to where White Eagle prepared the fire, she stared intently around the edges of the yellow and black shell of the reptile. What would she do if it poked its scaly head out? She should be brave like Beth. She lifted her chin, searching for the courage she lacked.

To her horror, head and arms popped out. She squealed, and the warriors around her grabbed their weapons. She jumped back and dropped the reptile, fluttering her hands before her and wiping them off on her skirt to rid herself of their feel.

As the warriors became aware that there was no actual danger, she froze in place and looked up at their dark faces, readying herself for whatever wrath they chose to inflict.

To her surprise, they laughed, but the warrior with spotted owl feathers who’d been the most startled grabbed her by the hair and shouted words she didn’t understand. White Eagle stood and shouted at the man. He released her.

She ducked under the warrior’s arm, scurried away, and slumped onto a large rock.

Running Cloud hadn’t reacted to the commotion and stood in the background with arms folded, watching Beth.

“Help,” the Indian with elk antlers as a weapon said to Anna and pointed at Beth.

How was it so many of them spoke English? She rose and took a cautious step toward Beth. She had to be strong. She had to be brave. Brave like Beth. But she froze when she saw Beth pulling on one of the scaly necks; it made her think of snakes, and her knees went weak.

“We’ll roast them,” White Eagle said to Beth. A small flame flickered as he made a fire from his horn.

All the Indians watched Anna.

“Make food,” the one who’d grabbed her said in his thick accent, a deep frown pinching his face as he glared at her.

Anger stirred. It sparked helpful embers of courage. “I should be in Denver City right now, not here in the middle of nowhere preparing turtles for supper.” With that, she turned and sat on the nearest rock, hugging her knees and trembling. Even if it meant her life, she couldn’t bring herself to touch another turtle.

The men mumbled to one another, and she distinctively heard one say, “Lazy woman.” They obviously weren’t pleased with her outburst. She was a coward, and shame swept through her. What would they do to her now? Would they beat her, kill and scalp her? She hugged her knees tighter and glanced out over the golden plains. If only she were there right now.

White Eagle spoke in a firm tone in that unusual language of theirs, and the men fell silent.

However, a few Indians mumbled, motioning toward Beth and nodding their approval.

Anna wished the ground would swallow her whole.

~*~

Anna couldn’t sleep. The thought of turtles and snakes crawling on her caused even the slightest rustle of wind against her skin to make her jump. Since she’d refused to eat, her stomach growled, and she shivered as she stared up at the stars. Their beauty took her breath away—they looked close enough to touch. Never had she seen anything so wondrous. God’s creation never failed to amaze her. She reached up to the tiny diamonds, imagining she could take hold of one between her fingers.

Lord, where are you?

The blanket of stars stretched forth, and she pushed up on her elbow. Over the ridge, she saw the plains of Colorado Territory. Distant lights dotted the flat horizon.

A city.

The moon illuminated just enough light for her to see details of the sleeping bodies. The men formed a circle and surrounded her and Beth around the low flickering fire.

White Eagle leaned on his elbow, watching her. Her breath caught. The moonlight outlined his arm, emphasizing the muscle there, and his painted face never turned away from her. Surely he’d feel embarrassed and look away, or he planned on starting a conversation. So she waited for him to speak.

Crickets played their tunes around them. Quiet snores from some of the men cut into their music, and the snap of crackling flames filled the silence.

Perhaps she ought to say something to get him to stop staring. “Is that Denver City?” She pointed at the lights.

He nodded. Still staring.

“I ought to be there now,” she murmured. The lights were like gold in a sea of black satin. Her golden city. She could actually see it. After all these years, she finally had it in her sights. Now all she could do was stare.

She licked her dry, chapped lips, and scratched her stiff cheeks and chin.

“Don’t do that,” White Eagle said, his thick, strange accent hanging on the night air. “Your visage.” He shook his head. “Your face. It is red. You’ll get blisters.”

“I must look like a cooked lobster.” She dreaded the thought of freckles coming out. How would that look to the board of education?

“The women at the village have good medicine. They will give you some for your face.”

“We’re going to your village?” She tried not to raise her voice, fearful that the others might awaken. “What are you going to do with us there?” Visions of the whole tribe of Indians attacking her flashed through her mind. Maybe reading Papa’s novel hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

“Woman Of Sorrow will become Running Cloud’s wife.”

The news hit her like a blast from a cannon ball. “They will be married?” Anna couldn’t believe it. Would he actually marry someone he didn’t know?

“Oui—yes.”

“What if she doesn’t want to marry him?”

White Eagle tossed a pine needle. “She will.”

“But what if she won’t?”

“Woman Of Sorrow belongs to him.”

“Why?” Since she was his captive, she deserved some answers.

“Running Cloud killed her husband. He will care for her.”

“So he’s the one who murdered Al.” Anna glanced over at where Running Cloud slept. He was a frightening man. She’d never forget him pulling her hair and grabbing her. And now her friend was doomed to become his wife. Poor Beth. She deserved better. She deserved a decent husband.

She deserved a decent name.

“Why must you call her Woman Of Sorrow? I happen to know she’s a delightful young lady.” She wasn’t sad, despite reasons to be so. If Beth was going to be trapped in this life, the least they could do was give her a better name.

“She will be.”

“Will be what?”

“Happy.”

“How can you know that?” How could anyone be happy marrying someone they didn’t know?

“Running Cloud will treat her well.”

But who would want to live with savages? Then her thoughts turned to herself. “What will become of me?” Her voice quivered. It was a frightening question to ask, but she had to know.

“You will be my wife.” The man’s face darkened.

Anna’s cheeks grew hot, and she tried to breathe. “Suppose I don’t want to marry . . . an Indian?” She kept from saying “a savage,” since it seemed more like a personal attack, and the last thing she wanted was to rile up a wild Indian. Would she be trapped with this man for the rest of her life?

“You’ll marry me under Cheyenne law. It means nothing to the white man.”

“Cheyenne law? But we’ll be married,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I don’t want to marry . . . you. I don’t even know you!” She stopped to catch her breath, looking around to make sure everyone was still asleep. Thoughts of escape raced through her mind. Then thoughts of getting lost, attacked by wild animals or snakes flooded over her. Running away wouldn’t be a wise idea. She’d never find her way to Denver City. Or would she? From here she could see the lights. If she would just follow the lights, she could get out of these mountains on her own.

“I have to be in Denver. They’re expecting me.” She hoped the savage would find this an important enough reason to return her to civilization.

“Who’s expecting you?”

She sighed, preparing herself to hear the famous speech of a woman traveling alone and the great dangers thereof. She had lost count of all the people who’d warned her on the train. Just then, her thoughts knocked her upside the head. Didn’t someone warn her of Indians? And now here she sat a captive. She decided his speech would be a bit late in coming.

“The board of education,” she finally said.

“Do you have family there?”

She stared past him into the lonely shadows of the forest. “I don’t have any family.”

“What are you doing here?”

She breathed deeply. “I came all the way from New York to work as a teacher. If you will please escort me to Denver City in the morning, I would be very grateful.” She tried to sound dignified, self-assured, though in her heart she was terrified and begging. “I don’t wish to marry you. You seem like a decent person, but I don’t know you,” she added, trying to soften the blow, as if she hadn’t already been blunt about it. “Please, I have to go to Denver.”

He sighed and lay back down. “You’ve been taken by Indians. You can’t expect them to deliver you where you want to go.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘kidnapped’?” She lay down, trembling as she stared at the stars. She should have gotten off the train near Julesburg. Had she done that, she wouldn’t be lying here right now, conversing with a savage.

“The others in the wagons didn’t care about you. So you weren’t kidnapped. Just given as a peace offering.”

She crossed her arms to ward off the chill. “All they cared about was saving their own scalps. I’ve never met such cowards in all my life.” Her voice hitched as she said the words aloud, thinking of how afraid everyone was of Al and how none of them were willing to bring her water.

“Neither have I.” The purr of his voice was close, sending a tingle down her neck. He covered her with buckskin, and then moved away. The warmth enveloped her.

“Tank—thank you,” she said, glad he was no longer near, but grateful for the warmth. A knot came to her throat. She tried not to cry, isolation and loneliness choking her.

That lonely feeling was all too familiar.

She had hoped to finally be happy, maybe even find an essence of her papa in Denver City. It seemed home would always be out of reach.

But it wasn’t out of reach. She could actually see it. Hope was not lost. Not when she was so close.

The lights of the distant city called out to her, winked at her. Taunted her.

Tonight. This night.

Her one and only chance to escape.