Destiny's Bride (13 page)

The storm ended as quickly as it began. The clouds moved away, the wind died down, and the sun returned. They emerged from their tattered shelter, looked at each other, and started to laugh. Their drenched clothing and scraggly hair were the only evidence the storm had come and gone. Lone Eagle shook his long locks, sending droplets flying in all directions. He pulled off his buckskin shirt and wrung water from it. The scar from his injury had healed nicely. “I think after what we went through, we’ll camp here for the night and let the sunshine dry out our belongings.”

“What?”  So busy assessing his corded muscles and tanned skin, she heard only part of what he’d said. Her cheeks heated and she averted her gaze.

He held up his shirt in one hand and a soaking wet blanket in the other.  “I said, we can’t travel with everything so wet.”

He and Cecile spread their wet blankets and clothing on the tall grass, creating what looked like a large colorful patchwork quilt. Clad only in her undergarments, Cecile sat under the tree, grateful the sun had dropped low enough to filter warmth through the bare branches.  She intended to rest while Lone Eagle ventured away from camp to set a rabbit snare.

Her head lolled to the side, Cecile dozed. Walt’s face invaded her mind, and the all too familiar feeling of emptiness crept in once again.  Had she made the right decision to leave their home behind?

Deeper in sleep, she dreamt of her husband and what had happened to him. Caught in the vivid terror, her unconscious mind sensed someone’s presence. She awoke with a start. Her heart raced and her pulse felt like a rapid drumbeat. Relief coursed through her to see Lone Eagle grinning as he held a rabbit in the air. At last something besides stale biscuits; she wanted to jump up and hug him, but the extreme soreness of her buttocks prevented it. Instead, she smiled as he helped her to her feet, wondering how he always seemed to sense her need for assistance. The sun had done its duty in drying the bedding and clothing, and she dressed in a shirt and pants still warm and then packed away the extras. The luscious smell of cooking rabbit made her stomach rumble in anticipation of a hot meal.  Long Eagle showed no concern over building a fire, and that confused her.

Having never eaten rabbit before, she was surprised to find it tasted much the same as the chicken her mother used to roast. Cecile wiped the grease from her mouth on her shirtsleeve and swallowed the last bite. “Thank you for the delicious dinner, Lone Eagle. You must be as talented in hunting as you are in cooking.”

“That is women’s work in my village. I cook only to survive.” His squared shoulders showed male pride.

“Then I hope someone there can teach me to make something this tasty.”  Although she meant it in jest, worry niggled her. The fears she'd pushed to the back of her mind resurfaced at her own mention of the village. She still had mixed emotions about her decision to come on this trip, but really, she had no other choice.

After another night spent sleeping on the cold, hard ground, they prepared to start off again. Seven long days ago, they’d began this trek to find Lone Eagle’s people, and aside from the horseback-induced pain, now she sensed a faint fluttering in her belly from time to time.  Was the baby beginning to move? Was there something wrong? What she wouldn’t give for a woman to ask. Lordy, she didn’t even know when she’d give birth let alone what to expect.

Cecile retrieved the scrap of paper and stubby pencil she kept in her valise in her attempt to maintain a makeshift calendar. While Lone Eagle readied the horses, she marked another passing day and wondered why she bothered. Her tracking progress only dated back to when her symptoms first began.  Her inability to recall her last monthly time, together with being an only child, provided no experience to use as a gauge.

If the villagers accepted her as readily as Lone Eagle assured her, one of the many mothers there would be willing to help her. If nothing else, her scribbling helped track the time of the year.  She crammed her calendar back into her valise and mounted up for another tiring day.

Endless hours of riding gave her lots of time to think. Her mind wandered from past to present. She tried to share her thoughts during intermittent conversations with Lone Eagle, but he focused his attention on being vigilant rather than with conversing. She recalled her mother and father, the mercantile, the bank, and her father’s big mahogany desk. What would her parents think if they knew they were going to be grandparents? She’d have to start thinking of appropriate names, but at this point she was just too tired, so her thoughts drifted to mindless things that didn’t require any concentration.

As the sun set, she was almost sure she saw the outline of mountains in the distance. She hoped they’d reach their destination soon. Darkness gobbled up the scenery, leaving her to wonder if the endless prairie had played tricks with her eyes. Her bedroll barely undone, she fell asleep worrying about what awaited her at journey’s end.

The morning sun bore out her suspicions—mountains definitely loomed on the horizon. A mixture of joy and fear clouded her mind. Each day brought her closer to an entire tribe of white people’s enemies. What if they didn’t accept her as Lone Eagle promised? What would happen then?

“We are getting close.” As if reading her mind, he spoke.  “Within three risings of the sun we will find my people, our people. I can tell by your face that your heart is filled with fear, but do not worry, Green Eyes. Things will go well. We will be happy and safe, and when the baby is born and is old enough, I will teach our son to ride, hunt, and sing the stories of the people. If the child is a daughter, you will teach her to make clothing from deerskins and decorate them with quills and feathers, to scrape buffalo hides clean for blankets, and to prepare and store food for the winters to come.  I am certain a girl child will have many talents and the beauty of her mother.”

Cecile smiled at the positive picture he painted, but her insides trembled. She couldn’t teach things about which she knew nothing. She’d barely mastered crocheting and her cooking skills were dismal at best. Beading and quilling?  Scraping skins? Silently, she prayed for a son so she wouldn’t have to admit to her weaknesses.

That night, they camped at the foot of the mountains. Cecile woke aching and stiff, feeling coldness invade every part of her being. The small morning campfire did little to stop her teeth from chattering. Dropping the blanket she'd wrapped around herself, she braved the cold air long enough to put on a clean shirt. Just the momentary exposure to the icy air caused her nipples to stand erect beneath her chemise. She traded the blanket for the heavy coat Lone Eagle brought her. How did he always sense her needs?  Too cold to ask at the moment, she nestled into the scratchy wool and pulled the collar high. She wiggled her toes several times to make sure they hadn’t frozen solid, and before putting on her boots, she pulled on an extra heavy pair of socks.

Lone Eagle knelt and added more wood to the dwindling flames. She eyed his lithe body, wondering how he managed the cold dressed only in buckskins. Looking at him sent a shiver coursing through her, and she pulled her coat up under her chin and moved closer to the fire’s crackling warmth.

***

Lone Eagle grumbled as he readied her horse.  Why did white people need such a bothersome thing between them and their horse? If Green Eyes rode bareback, he wouldn’t have to waste time and effort adding her saddle every day. When they began their new life together, he would teach Green Eyes many things.  He’d sampled her cooking at the cabin and knew she could learn much from his mother and his sister. He had not yet seen her sew, but if she didn’t know how, she could learn.

He’d seen no evidence of blankets or clothing for an infant, but the women of his tribe would happily pitch in to ready things for the baby’s arrival. His thoughts turned to the child Green Eyes carried. Should he tell his family it was his child? Would they be accepting if they knew the baby belonged to another man? He’d determine that later. Perhaps no one would ask. If he presented Green Eyes as his woman, then would not her baby be his? He smiled at the thought of a family of his own.

Chapter Ten

They began the climb up the mountain’s steep terrain. Tufted moss grew in the rocky recesses of the trail, vastly different from the endless miles of brown prairie scrub grass. Cecile leaned back in her saddle and spied green pine trees dotting the summit. It was early October and the deciduous trees had lost most of their leaves, leaving the landscape devoid of color. She pulled her jacket tighter to ward off the colder air, and clung to the reins as her horse followed closely behind Lone Eagle’s on the narrow and winding trail. The synchronized clop of the horses’ hooves resonated off the mountainside.

How close they were to Lone Eagle’s village? The thought of coming face to face with his tribe brought back those all-too-familiar feelings of apprehension. She took a deep, cleansing breath, tried to relax, and reminded herself of his assurance that everything would be fine.

The steepness of the climb made it difficult to maintain balance. Her sensation of sliding off her mount at any minute was constant. Clenching her legs against the sides of her horse, she tightened her grasp on the saddle horn.  Despite riding bareback, Lone Eagle moved in perfect unison with the gait of his horse, making riding look so easy. Although she tried to imitate his rhythm, she couldn’t relax enough, as attested by her white knuckles. Her thighs ached and hunger rumbled her belly, but there was no place to stop.

A strange bird call echoed from above. Cecile looked skyward, but the sun’s brightness blurred her vision and caused her to look away. She focused her attention instead on Lone the way Lone Eagle’s thigh muscles flexed to keep balanced. Most of all, she reflected on the kindness he constantly showed her and what her fate might have been had he not come along.  That annoying negative voice in her head cropped up again, reminding her she might be riding into a much worse situation than she left behind.

The higher they climbed, the colder it became, and the more her urge to urinate increased. She couldn’t recall ever needing to pee so badly in her life, but on the narrow trail there was no place to dismount. She tried to think about anything except her aching bladder, and focused her attention once again on Lone Eagle’s fluid body movements. 

Her thoughts drifted to things more pleasant than her present discomfort, until she heard the strange cry of the mysterious bird again. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she scanned the sky to find the source of the sound, but there was nothing visible except one lone cloud in a sea of blue.

Worrisome thoughts of losing total control of her bladder and embarrassing herself plagued her, but luckily they rounded a bend in the trail and encountered a stand of young trees in a small clearing. Lone Eagle reined in his horse, dismounted, and came back to lift her down. Her feet had barely touched the ground when she scampered to the privacy of the nearest tree for much-needed relief.

Even though wearing men’s pants was considered improper, she found wearing an old pair of Walt’s much more comfortable than a skirt, and more suitable for horseback, but trying to keep them dry when squatting was another issue. 

With a sigh of relief, she ambled back to where Lone Eagle held the horses.  Tears welled at the thought of continuing. The last thing she wanted to do was sit in that blasted, uncomfortable saddle again, but reluctantly she let Lone Eagle boost her back up on her horse. Her discomfort must have been evident.

“Green Eyes, my village is not far away,” he assured her. “Soon you can rest.”

Again, that strange bird sang. This time Lone Eagle placed his hand aside his mouth and echoed the trill exactly.

She looked at him and raised a brow.

“The sounds you hear are calls from one of my tribe. This mountain pass is closely guarded, and we have been observed since we began the climb. I have answered the call to identify us and assure the lookout we mean no danger.”

Lone Eagle mounted and urged his horse forward. Confused, Cecile clicked her heels into the sides of her mount and followed along. Someone had been watching all this time?  From where?

The trail leveled out and widened considerably making Cecile feel more relaxed in the saddle. Although they’d exchanged little conversation, she sensed Lone Eagle’s excitement and wondered if he was aware of her increasing nervousness. She was preparing to voice her fears when they crested the mountain.

There, nestled in a valley, protected by mountains on three sides, lay a village of at least a hundred tepees. She quickly spotted the one Lone Eagle had described as his father’s. It was as if the stories on the trail had come to life. Children ran, laughed, and played while a few women traipsed across an open space with baskets on their hips. Another hung something on a wooden rack beside her medium-sized tepee. Everything looked exactly like Lone Eagle said it would.

The gnawing fear of facing this moment returned and grew stronger as they rode past a large boulder at the entrance to the village. A Lakota brave, dressed like Lone Eagle, stood on top, glaring down at them, his appearance ferocious and his loud guttural yell, ear-splitting as it bounced off the mountain walls and echoed through the village. She covered her ears.

As if sensing her uneasiness, Lone Eagle urged his horse closer and patted her hand. The entire village came alive, and much to her chagrin, clamored around their horses. Smiles greeted Lone Eagle, as the people pushed closer, curious to see who rode with him. She followed his lead, maneuvering her mount through a sea of bodies, while strange hands reached up and tugged at her clothing. The men viewed her with open curiosity, but the women’s hostile stares urged her to spur her horse in the other direction. The mob continued to press forward, blocking her path. Lone Eagle took her animal’s reins and led her through the crowd. She sat firmly in the saddle, holding her breath, fighting the panic building within her chest.