White Wind (5 page)

Sarah opened the door and slipped out, her eyes scanning the area for the dark shadowy movement of wild dogs. Three nights running they’d been here spooking horses ready for travel.

She and Ben had caught, broke and trained the ponies. It had been her pa’s dream to breed the finest horses, providing fresh mounts to soldiers and others coming west.

She’d planned to trade the ponies at the fort for a wagon and supplies for the journey to Lac Supérieur. There, they would trade the thick pelts of furs collected over the winter and spring for Sarah’s safe passage back east to a cousin of Mary’s.

Her brows rose in concern when she spotted a horse in the shadows outside her cabin. Ben must be back! He’d left yesterday, early in the morning, to check his traps one last time and bring them in. He wasn’t due back until later today. The traps must’ve been empty, she thought to herself. It was the only reason he’d be back this soon. She heard noise coming from inside the cabin, and decided to see if everything was all right. He probably didn’t want to disturb her or Mary in the middle of the night.

“Ben?” Sarah quietly called, tiptoeing quietly across the porch to peer inside.

A beam of moonlight slanted across the room and Sarah froze in fear. All hope of escape crumbled. A sinking sensation settled in the pit of her stomach as her hand tried to suppress the tight knot of terror.

Instead of Ben, Willy stood there, unaware of her presence as he grabbed tins of dried meat, sugar, coffee and other supplies from the shelves above the stove and stuffed them into saddlebags.

Footsteps crunched behind her. Startled, she dropped her rifle to the ground as she was shoved forward.

“Hey, Willy. Look what I found…”

Willy turned. “Shut yer trap, kid. You got them horses ready?” His glower of anger turned to one of anticipation as he grabbed Sarah by the arm and yanked her away from Tom.

Tom gulped. “Uh, not yet. I saw her sneakin’ round outside,” Tom replied, his eyes never leaving Sarah’s ashen face. “Is we gonna take and share her too? She sure is easy on the eyes,” he said, reaching out to stroke her hair.

Willy slapped his hand away and replied tersely, “We ain’t got time. Get them horses ready like I said. If you’s gonna ride with me, you’ll do what I tells you to do. Now get outta here.”

Sarah watched the boy flee, and turned to face Willy. She gasped in horror. There was blood splattered all over Willy’s clothing. She tried to break free.

“Now, don’t rush off, cuz. I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our weddin’ for a bit,” Willy taunted, pulling her against his chest.

“Let go of me, Willy,” Sarah screamed before his hand covered her mouth. She clawed, kicked and struck where she could with hands and feet. Her fist made contact with Willy’s nose and curses filled the air.

“Why you…” His palm made contact with her cheek, spinning her around to fall over a chair onto the floor. Before she could recover, her arms were pinned above her head, Willy’s massive body halting her struggles.

“Scream and bring them old folks in here and I’ll kill ’em right now,” he warned, eyes taking on a maniacal gleam.

“Oh, God, no. Don’t hurt them,” Sarah begged, the pain lancing through her head. If he knew Ben had gone…

She swallowed the bitter taste of fear. Once again she was on her own. She struggled to free her arms.

Willy’s breaths came in hoarse gasps. “Too bad we can’t take you with us. You’d just slow us down. But maybe there’s time for a quick sample. Who knows, you may not be here much longer.”

He made a grab for the neckline of her gown and yanked the worn material. His eyes widened. “Lookee what we gots here. I gots me another squaw, all fightin’ and squirmin’. That’s it Fight me. I’ll show you who’s the boss, just like I showed them others. You’re nothin’ but a squaw. You’ll see how good it feels to have a white man, a real man, stick it between your legs,” he promised.

Sarah fought harder, his words making no sense. Rough fingers ruthlessly pinched and pulled her tender flesh. Tears of helplessness and rage streamed down her cheeks as his head lowered. She would not give in to this. She had to keep fighting.

Just as his panting mouth drew near and she feared she’d be sick, she heard Willy’s name called from the front door.

Tom dashed in and frantically grabbed Willy’s arm. “What’s takin’ you so long? The horses are ready, just like you asked. There’s no time now. They wasn’t that far behind us when we was on the ridge. Gettin’ b’tween her legs ain’t worth dyin’ for. If ya wants her bad ’nough, take her with us.”

Shaking Tom’s hand off, Willy replied impatiently, “Take them supplies and get ’em loaded. I’ll be right out. I gots some goodbyes to tend to. An’ don’t come back in here neither. This won’t take long.”

Tom stepped back, fear and uncertainty in his eyes. His gaze fell to bared flesh and he grinned, grabbing the bag of supplies as he ran out to do as he was told.

Sarah tore her hands free from Willy’s grasp and pushed and shoved as she fought desperately for her freedom and her life.

Smiling wickedly, Willy laughed at her feeble attempts to shove his heavy bulk aside. He shifted slightly, reaching for the ties of his breeches.

Sarah took advantage of the small space that opened between them and with her right hand managed to pinch his fleshy belly, twisting with all her might. She rolled out from under him, scooting under the table as he twisted away in pain.

Jumping to her feet, clutching the ripped front of her night dress, she grabbed the long knife Mary had left on the stove.

Willy backed off with a deep sigh of regret and buttoned his pants over swollen flesh. His wild gaze narrowed as he backed toward the door. “I’ll be back, girl,” he panted. “We ain’t finished. Don’t think by stayin’ with Ben and Mary you’ll be safe. It’s only a matter of time before they’re dead. Soon, it’ll just be you and me.”

With that parting threat, he was gone. Sarah ran, bolted the door and fell into the nearest chair, the knife clutched tightly in her hand. She sat until her breathing slowed and the worst of her fright had fled.

When she felt it safe to do so, she recovered the rifle outside the door and ran to the loft, ripping the torn gown from her body as she went. Pouring cold water into a bowl, she washed, scrubbing until she felt clean of Willy’s vile touch. Nothing could take away the dark bruises already marring her flesh.

Falling across the bed, head buried in her arms, she tried to think. She had to get away from here. And soon. He’d be back.

Her head lifted. How, she wondered, did Willy know she was planning to leave? Was he watching, lying in wait? She sat up, struck by a hideous thought. It would be so easy for him to kill Mary and Ben and take her away. Also, Ben would have all the money that was stashed away with him.

Sarah stood and dressed quickly. How long before Willy would come back? Would he hesitate to kill to get her and what he wanted? She remembered his blood-splattered clothing. He would not!

Sarah squared her shoulders. There was no way she would risk the lives of Ben and Mary. They would die before letting Willy harm her.

She had to go alone, had to leave tonight while Ben was gone and Mary asleep. Sarah gathered a few changes of clothing and other necessities for her trip to Fort Tecumseh.

Golden Eagle motioned Red Fox to halt and dismount. Leaving their horses hidden, they merged as one with the concealing darkness and followed the horse tracks to the white man’s house of wood, Golden Eagle leading the way.

His heart raced as he neared the white man’s log house.

The trail of the murdering whites had led him to the home of the white girl whose laughing blue eyes and pale hair haunted his dreams.

Alert to every sound and movement, he turned away from the dark silent cabin. Using the light of the moon, he and Red Fox cautiously skirted the house, following the fresh trail of tracks into a wood house for animals. Entering, they found the white men’s horses, tired and near exhaustion. Crouching, they searched the dirt floor and spotted new tracks leaving the barn.

Golden Eagle swore under his breath. They were too late. Silent as shadows, the two warriors retraced their steps to where their trained horses waited, two silhouettes blending into the night.

Golden Eagle turned and stared at the homes the white man built. He refused to believe that those who lived within had anything to do with the brutal slaying of the girls from his tribe.

Squatting, Red Fox voiced his thoughts, while drawing his knife. “We attack. Burn white man’s home. We kill all who come running.”

Glancing into the vengeful painted face of his friend, Golden Eagle shook his head. “No, my friend. We wait for those who have done the wrong.” Visions of the spirited child who might still live within came unbidden to his mind.

He knew Red Fox objected, could see it in his eyes, but he was the leader. His word was law.

“How are we to know who committed this crime against our people?” Red Fox demanded.

Pulling out the disk he’d found, Golden Eagle held it up for Red Fox to see and watched the moon’s glow reflect off the object. The glimmer of an idea was forming in his mind. “We use this to identify the man.”

Golden Eagle decided to take his friend into his confidence. None knew of his experience with the spirited white child.

“Many summers ago, I saved a white girl-child from the bite of death during my wanderings. But she injured her foot when her pony threw her.” Golden Eagle paused, remembering how the girl-child had cuddled against him. “She showed no fear. She looked to me for help. I could not betray that trust. I returned her to her people. Before I left, she asked that I return to these trees in the dark of the night. She promised to leave a gift.” He remembered waiting at a distance, watching and wondering if it was a trick of the whites.

“That night, the girl-child and her father left a colt beneath these very trees. The whites acted honorably then. I will remain and watch for them,” Golden Eagle said, putting away the object “They will identify the murderers for me.”

Red Fox nodded thoughtfully. “The daughters of Stands Tall must be avenged or their spirits will not rest. But you are wise. We must wait for the ones guilty of the crime. We cannot kill those who have acted honorably toward our people.” He turned and glanced at their horses.

“At last I know where you got such a fine beast. Great Star has fathered many strong sons and daughters. We will take one of their horses to present to Stands Tall.”

Patting the back of his golden stallion, Golden Eagle was pleased that he had reason to remain. He nodded in agreement “We must hurry. You must be far from here when it grows light.”

They made their way back to the barn and quietly led out two horses, leaving the two exhausted mounts in their stalls.

A noise drew the attention of Red Fox. Silently, the warrior handed the lead rope to Golden Eagle and circled the barn.

There Red Fox found a small corral. He stood in the shadows and watched several ponies move restlessly as they caught his scent. “I will return someday to raid the whites of their horses,” he vowed before rejoining his friend.

Golden Eagle and Red Fox erased all signs of their presence and agreed upon a place to meet when
Hanwi
had shown her face two times.

Golden Eagle settled on the hard cold ground after Red Fox faded into the night. The moon sat high above, the new dawn far off. His mind wandered, full of questions. Was she still here? Would she remember him? Did she still have spirit and braveness? Or would she now be afraid of him?

He compared the white girl to Wild-Flower. She had been full of spirit, the love of life shining in her eyes-of-the-sky. Brave and unafraid.

Golden Eagle grimaced. Wild-Flower was timid and shy. She never looked him in the eye, had never voiced her thoughts or initiated a conversation. He had to speak first, and maybe she would answer. When she did talk to him, her voice was never more than a weak whisper. He shuddered and let out a long sigh. How he wanted a wife of spirit, one who would enjoy life, one who would enjoy being the wife of a fine warrior.

A movement jerked him to full alertness. A door was slowly opening.

He crouched, muscles tensed, as a slight figure silently slipped out into the night and stealthily crept to the crude corral, nervously glancing over a cloak-covered shoulder.

From his concealed vantage point, Golden Eagle heard a whistle so soft that he wasn’t sure he’d heard it. Immediately a black mare trotted over to be led out. His eyes narrowed. This unknown person intended to slip away unnoticed. The two white men had already left. Was this person also involved with the murders and was now leaving to join them?

Excited that he might yet be led to the men he sought, Golden Eagle watched the slim figure in breeches, moccasins and a dark cloak lead the horse up a small hill.

He sensed something familiar about the quiet dark figure. He darted. Shadow to shadow. Tree to tree. His heart pounded fiercely, making breathing difficult. Not sure what he would discover, Golden Eagle only knew that he had to follow his instincts.

On silent feet he approached from the left, dark eyes observing intently as he neared the small clearing.

Staying down low, Golden Eagle remained hidden at a respectful distance from the white man’s burial ground. His eyes never left the boyish figure kneeling beside a wooden cross.

Golden Eagle’s breath caught in mounting suspense as two small gloved hands lifted and removed the concealing hood.

Stunned, he stared as long silvery-white hair spilled into the moonlight. It gleamed and shone almost as if it were a beam of light sent from the moon shining brightly above.

It was her, dressed in the clothing of a white man! After all this time, he’d found the girl-child called Sarah again. Only now the child was a young woman, the same one who’d haunted his dreams for so long.

On her knees beside her father’s grave, Sarah allowed herself a moment of self-doubt. “Oh, Pa, I hope I’m doing right. I miss you so much. Why did you have to leave me? I need you, I need you so much right now.”

Her voice breaking, Sarah clutched the heart-shaped locket banging from her slender neck.

Staring into the inky darkness, Sarah hoped Mary would one day forgive her. She’d left a small white square of paper addressed to Mary on the table.

It was safer for Mary not to know where she was, at least for now. Thank goodness Willy’s arrival had not awakened Mary.

Lifting her eyes toward the heavens, Sarah gazed at the full silvery moon through eyes misty with unshed tears. She gathered courage from the bright moonbeams as she slowly pushed herself to her feet.

Pausing beside her mother’s grave, she caressed the time-worn cross. “Ma, I don’t remember much about you, except the picnics in our meadow. Now I know why you sometimes cried there when you thought no one would see. As a little girl I never could figure out why such a beautiful place made you sad.”

Sarah pulled at some grass choking the wildflowers that were beginning to bloom. “Pa told me that was where my father left you and where he found you. I’m going to try to find him, Ma,” she promised.

Though her mother had learned to love John, she’d never forgotten her Indian lover. As she had many times since learning of her true father, Sarah wondered about the man who’d befriended her mother and fathered
her.
She thought of the painted box and necklace carefully packed in her bag.