White Wind (2 page)

Missouri Territory, 1828

The bright golden sun sent gentle waves of warmth to the land below. Spring would soon be in full bloom. It ruled the land, slowly replacing winter’s barren vegetation with the birth of tender green growth. Spring brought change and the renewal of life. It was nature’s promise that life continued, even when it seemed lifeless and hopeless. Nothing could stop it. Not even death.

How symbolic of her life since Pa died, Sarah thought, staring from her loft wistfully. Her eyes shut out the early-morning scene as a single tear escaped. Shuddering, she wondered if life would ever be fresh and sweet for her again.

“Oh, Pa, why?” Sarah sobbed, looking toward a small plot of land bearing three carved burial markers. Only the wind answered as a blast of frigid air swept into the room.

Sarah closed the shutters, resting her forehead against the rough wood and drew a deep breath. Tears wouldn’t wash away her problems. And since her Pa’s death four months ago, her problems had only grown.

Straightening her shoulders, she poured a small amount of water from a chipped pitcher into a wooden bowl and splashed her face. The shock of ice-cold water checked the flow of tears. Today’s tears weren’t for the death of a loved one. They were tears of self-pity and bitterness.

Unconsciously, she sought comfort and courage from the golden chain that was always around her neck, a last birthday gift from Pa on her sixteenth birthday. Her fingers found two glass beads, one on each side of the heart-shaped locket that had belonged to her ma.

Daydreams of the young warrior who had saved her life when she was but twelve beckoned, but Sarah resisted. Wishful thinking and daydreams would not help this time.

Peering cautiously from the loft, Sarah saw only Mary busy at the age-worn table kneading bread dough. With a great sigh of relief, she left the safety of the loft and descended into the warm cozy room.

Mary, dressed in a plaid shirt and men’s breeches, turned at the slight sound, her gnarled hands stopping the rhythmic kneading. She gathered the yeast-smelling dough and put it above the old stove to rise. Turning, she wiped flour-covered hands on an apron tied around her plump waist.

Refreshing her cup of cooling coffee, Mary took the seat next to Sarah and cursed the fate that had left the child she loved as her own looking so pale and listless.

She’d give anything to see the sparkle back in those downcast eyes and the tilt of that determined chin. More than anything, she missed that mischievous grin. The one that usually meant trouble!

“Come now, Sarah,” Mary said encouragingly, breaking off a hunk of hot bread and holding it out to the silent girl. “Have some bread. He left early this morning. Ben sent him to check traps. Won’t be back till dark, I expect.”

Staring blankly into space, Sarah dropped the bread that her fingers were shredding into a pile of crumbs on the table. Her voice was taut with months of suppressed emotions as she buried her head in her hands and moaned.

“Oh, Mary, why did Pa do it? We don’t need Willy here. He’s caused nothing but trouble for all of us,” she hoarsely whispered.

Mary slipped her arm around the thin hunched shoulders and fingered blond curls as she sought the words that would explain John’s motives.

“There aren’t many women out here, and I know your pa worried about the soldiers from the fort posing a threat to you. They respected and even feared John— Mountain Man John, as he was known to most. By making your guardian a member of his family, he was offering protection.”

Sarah’s head snapped up as she pushed her chair from the table and started pacing. “Protection! Mary, I have you and your husband, Ben, to protect me. You’ve been the only mother I’ve ever really known. You and Ben are my family, not some distant cousin I’d never even heard of before!” Sarah declared, her boot-clad feet pounding the wooden floorboards. Her voice turned harsh as she flung out a hand. “Ben can protect and provide for me a lot better than that weak lazy Willy.”

Both were large imposing men, but Ben had the build and stamina that a trapper developed from a lifetime of living off the land, whereas Willy’s body had turned soft from preying on what others provided.

“Thinking of me indeed.” Sarah laughed bitterly. “I need Pa’s horrible cousin Willy like I need…fire in a hayloft!”

Mary frowned and narrowed her eyes in displeasure, ready to defend her longtime friend. “Now you listen to me, Sarah. Your pa thought he was doing what was best for you. He rested easy in those last days after his long-lost cousin arrived unexpectedly.”

What Mary didn’t say was that she agreed with Sarah. Willy was useless, and a meaner-looking man she’d yet to meet. There weren’t many men out here willing to tangle with him, and she suspected that was one of the reasons John chose Willy as Sarah’s guardian rather then Ben.

Mary stood before the angry girl. “Do you honestly think your pa would have made Willy your guardian if he’d known what kind of man he was?”

Sarah lowered her head in shame, but Mary continued. “Remember, Willy convinced your pa that, as a relative, he was the only choice for a guardian. He promised he’d look after you and would even choose a good husband for you. What was your pa to say?”

Sarah raised tear-filled eyes and threw her arms around the motherly woman’s neck. “I’m sorry, Mary. I know Pa was trying to help make my life easier, but it hasn’t worked out like that.” Tears fell as she asked, “What am I going to do? I can’t stand much more of this.”

Mary gathered Sarah fiercely to her bosom for long moments before leading her back to the table. “We’ll think of something. But for now you are going to please an old woman and eat.”

That evening, in Sarah’s own small cabin, the soft patter of rain dancing off the roof slowed, the spring shower nearly spent. She curled deep into a chair padded by thick fur scraps and covered with a patchwork of old material, as dusk gave way to inky darkness.

She rose to add more wood to the red-orange embers in the hearth. All was quiet except for the occasional hiss or crackle as the embers burst into flames to eagerly lick the newly added logs.

Returning to her chair, she pulled forth a small stool and rested her quilt-covered feet before her. The lantern bathed her in a gentle glow of light as the fire kept the cold at bay.

Sarah stared into the hypnotic dancing flames, drowsiness claiming her as eyelids slowly lowered.

Suddenly, the door to the tiny cabin flew open. With a startled cry, Sarah bolted upright, her head snapping toward the open doorway.

A cold draft crept along the floor, sending shivers of dread down her spine as the door slammed shut. Eyes following the intruder, she watched the large man stumble across the room to stand before angry flickering flames that matched her wildly pounding heart.

“Well…lookee what we have here. Sure haven’t seen much of you lately, cuz. Haven’t been avoidin’ me now, have you?” slurred a loud, caustic voice.

“What do you want, Willy?” Sarah asked, carefully keeping her tone indifferent.

Her freckle-covered nose wrinkled in distaste. The noxious, stale smell of alcohol came at her in waves, turning her stomach.

“What’s a matter, sweets? Ain’t I good ’nough for you?” Willy sneered, eyes narrowing as he studied his ward’s cabin.

Embroidered curtains hid closed wooden shutters, brightening the dark room. Steam rose from a blackened pot hanging over the fire, and bread lay on the table ready for the morning meal.

Sarah sat in silence as her guardian paced the room, carelessly picking up objects and tossing them down. Her eyes watered as Willy picked up an old torn quilt made by her ma. It had been draped across bare wooden slats in an area under the loft where her pa had slept and died. That too was tossed to the floor.

“Say—sweetie. Sure is cold out tonight,” Willy said.

Silence.

“Sure would be nice to share this here cozy place, seein’ how’s we’s family ’n’ all.”

Sarah continued to ignore him, knowing how much he hated the silent treatment she reserved for him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his jaw clench and his face redden as she held her tongue.

Willy cursed and turned to leave when it became evident he’d not receive an invitation to stay.

At the door, he stopped, one shaky hand delving into his coat pocket to pull out a flask of home-brew. Taking a hefty swig, he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his grubby coat, then turned back to her abruptly.

“Think anymore ’bout wha’ I asked ya last time?” Willy demanded.

Sarah shrugged, masking revulsion with aloofness. “What’s to think over, Willy? I already told you I wouldn’t marry you.”

“Damn! Ya thinks yer real smart-like, don’t ya?” he hissed, kicking the stool from beneath her feet as he returned to stand before her. “Think you’s too good for yer poor cousin Willy. Well ya best think again,” he warned as his big beefy hands landed on the arms of her chair.

Sarah leaned back, turning her head to the side to avoid being nose-to-nose with his pockmarked face and sour breath. A small cry escaped her as rough fingers yanked her chin around.

“Listen closely, dear cousin. I mean to have you,” he uttered menacingly, inches away from her face. Willy’s cold gray eyes narrowed to mere slits and he laughed without humor. “Whoever marries you gets John’s share of tha’ fur business and the money he stashed away for you. That person is gonna be me!”

Sarah watched his gaze lower to her chest, and shuddered as his tongue snaked out to lick coarse lips as if in anticipation of a treat. A wave of nausea swept through her, and she crossed her arms protectively in front of her.

She didn’t dare give in to fear, and desperately grasped at anger instead to give her the courage needed to stand up to Willy.

“I won’t marry you, Willy, and you can’t make me, either.” Sarah breathed a sigh of relief as Willy straightened angrily and paced in front of her. Sarah met his rage-filled glare with a scornful look of her own.

Inwardly, she trembled. Willy had never been so bold before. Sarah rose abruptly, intending to flee to the loft, expecting he’d slam out in anger and leave her alone for the time being.

As soon as she placed her foot on the first rung of the ladder, Willy grabbed her arm, spun her about and shoved her hard against it.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Yer not walkin’ out on me this time.” His eyes spewed hatred and venom as he tightened his hold on her arm.

“You thinks about this, missy. You’ll be mine whether or not ya marries me. I’ll have you one way or ’nother!”

Laughing, Willy narrowed lust-filled eyes and squinted at Sarah’s terror-stricken face.

“Ya knows I can take what I want any time, dear girl. Would be wise for you to be nice to ol’ Willy. Ya know, be friendly like.” He took another swallow from the flask as he continued. “Yep. If you was a mite nicer ta me, maybe I would treat ya gentle like.”

Sarah clenched her teeth against the pain from Willy’s biting fingers. Her heart thudded in panic. Willy’s eyes gleamed with lust, but it was his voice that frightened her most of all.

His shouting, tantrums and whining she’d learned to shut out, but now his flat monotone chilled her to the soul.

Sarah’s eyes widened, and she gulped. “You can’t—I won’t—”

“I can. Ya will,” Willy informed her, his eyes hard and menacing. He noted Sarah’s rapid breathing. “I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, and don’t look to them ol’ folks to help you none. I haves it in me to gets rid of ’em if they turn innerferin’,” he warned, tightening his grip. “This here’s dangerous territory. Accidents happen out here.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sarah gasped, shocked that he would threaten the lives of the two people she loved most.

Willy’s lips curled in a self-satisfied sneer as he released her arm to take another gulp of the amber liquid.

“I would, girl. Believe I would. Of course, Ben does all the work round here. No way am I doin’ all that back-breakin’ work. Course, before I do away with him, I’d hafta
find a way to make Ben tell me where John hid your money. He seems mighty fond of Mary and you, though, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Willy studied his ragged dirty nails and rubbed them on his shirtfront. “But if you marry me, the money will be mine, you’ll be mine and nobody gets hurt. It’s up to you.”

“No!” she cried, closing her eyes against the fearful images. Sarah could only stare in frightened silence at the crazy man before her. Willy was dangerous, unbalanced, more so than any of them had thought. She had to get help. Slowly, she inched away.

A hand slammed beside her head, effectively blocking her escape. Sarah froze and swallowed her fear. Hands held palm up, she appealed to him. “Look, Willy, it’s late. Why don’t we discuss this in the morning? You’ve had too much to drink and I’m tired. Tomorrow we can settle this.”

Sarah was determined that starting tomorrow she would have Mary and Ben move into this cabin, or she’d move in with them. And she would keep Pa’s rifle at her side at all times.

“I ain’t drunk. Yet.”

Sarah’s eyes followed his, and she gulped when she saw the bulge growing under his breeches.

“We’s gonna settle this tonight. One way or ’nother.” Willy grinned, suddenly confident.

“What do ya think would happen if the soldiers and trappers found out you’re a…half-breed?” he asked smugly.

Sarah’s hands flew to her throat, her eyes widened and she shook her head. “How do you know about that?” she whispered hoarsely. “No one knows.”

With the rising feuds between whites and Indians, she would be regarded as a “breed” or “squaw” by most. She would lose the respect her father had worked so hard to secure for her, which was why it was a closely guarded secret. Who would think with her blond hair and blue eyes that one of her parents was an Indian?

The liquor began to loosen Willy’s tongue even as it slurred his speech. “The good, trusting ’n’ loyal friends of John will all find out tha’ he married a redskin’s pregnant whore. Worse ’n’ that, they’ll find out he’s lived his life a lie, that they have the seed of a savage in their midst,” he gloated.