Black Horse (16 page)

The permeating silence that filled the interior of the tepee made Meadow’s heartbeat falter in her breast. Her gaze moved to Gentle Water’s face. Their eyes met, and Meadow saw the tears that were about to overflow from her lifelong friend’s dark eyes. She closed her own eyes in an effort to block out the look of sorrow she had just witnessed. A deep ache inched through her body…She sensed that she did not want them to respond to her question, because she was certain that she would not be able to bear hearing the answer.

It rained sporadically for another week as the temperature continued to plunge, and then the first snowfall of the season blanketed the low-lying Canadian countryside in pristine white. The days after that just seemed to blend into one another with the daily struggles of surviving in this harsh wilderness as the snow continued to pile up. Food was scarce and some days almost non exis tent. Occasionally, the warriors would come across a deer or elk, but moose was usually the only meat available. The moose’s meat was stringy and tough, but it was better than no meat at all. With so many mouths to feed in this large encampment, however, even the biggest piece of venison did not go far.

The winter had been made even more difficult because of the illnesses that had invaded the village. Many died as they succumbed to fevers, coughs and stomach ailments that drained every bit of life from those too weak to fight them off.

Meadow walked beside Gentle Water through the snow-laden forest. They each carried a full urn of snow in their arms. They would dump the snow in a pot over the fire to melt so that they would have water for drinking, washing and cooking. Walking the trails that ran through the dense forest was more treacherous, now that the ground was slick with ice and snow, but the
snow surrounding the village was so stomped down now that they had to search through the forest for deeper patches among the trees to retrieve for melting. The only thing that kept the bedraggled tribe going was that spring was getting closer with each passing day, and the renewal of the earth, they hoped, would also renew their spirits and determination to survive.

Meadow stared down at the ground as they lumbered along. When they walked through the area where White Buffalo and Black Horse’s tepees had stood last fall, she tried to avoid looking at either location. The bare, empty spaces only served as a reminder that in one horrible day she had lost the two men she loved more than life itself.

When they passed by Walks Tall’s tepee, Meadow also avoided looking in that direction. He had been so good to her since her return, but she felt the need to keep her distance from him. Walks Tall had made it clear that he was prepared to serve as Black Horse’s replacement, but Meadow was not even remotely ready to think about sharing her life—or her bed—with anyone other than Black Horse. She was still unable to accept the fact that he was presumed dead, but Walks Tall was convinced that even if he did survive the initial attack from the soldiers, he would have been killed once they reached Fort Keogh.

Walks Tall had told her that he had traveled to the fort shortly after Black Horse had been attacked in the meadow, but he had not been able to get in to find out if his friend was being held prisoner there. He was going to return with more warriors and a plan to sneak into the fort to look for the war chief, however, several days later traders passing through the village had relayed the
news that four Indian prisoners being held at Fort Keogh had been hanged recently. Walks Tall knew that endangering more Sioux lives would be foolish. Black Horse was surely dead.

But Meadow was not so easily convinced. She prayed daily that Walks Tall was wrong and that someday her powerful war chief would ride back into her life. Yet, as the freezing cold of winter had overtaken the land, Meadow’s hope began to fade. She believed that if Black Horse still lived, he would have found a way to come home. As she reluctantly began to accept the idea that he might actually be dead, she began to die a little bit inside every day, too.

Once they reached the tepee that Meadow had been sharing with Gentle Water and Sings Like Sparrow since her return to the tribe, a loud shout echoed through the village. Meadow’s footsteps froze when she heard the word
soldiers.
Her mind raced with memories of ambushes and attacks from their days in the Dakota Territory. As in those past ambushes, Meadow and Gentle Water ran to their tepee for protection. Meadow sighed with relief to see that Sings Like Sparrow was already inside the dwelling. At least they would not have to run through the village looking for the old woman.

“What is happening?” Sings Like Sparrow asked in an alarmed voice.

“Soldiers!” Gentle Water gasped. “I thought we were safe here in Canada!”

If the soldiers were here to attack them, Meadow hoped that she would be killed right away so that she could join her beloved father and Black Horse in the spirit world. She did not hear the voices calling out
from the outside until she realized that Gentle Water was squeezing her hand tightly.

“Meadow,” she repeated. “Did you hear? The soldiers are Mounties, and they have brought supplies for our people.”

“Mounties?” Meadow asked. “From Fort Walsh?” Would that awful Lieutenant Cornett be one of them? He was the last person on earth that she ever wanted to see again.

Gentle Water chuckled, “Since Fort Walsh is the only fort in these parts, I would imagine they are from there. Let’s go see what they’ve brought for us.”

“No!” Meadow said with a strong negative shake of her head. “Remember, I told you how they tried to keep me at the fort.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Do you mind if I go with Grandmother, then?” Gentle Water asked. Sings Like Sparrow was already headed out the door to investigate the goods the Mounties had brought to them.

Meadow shook her head again and pulled the heavy scarf from her head. Her cropped hair fell to her shoulders in unruly tangles. Although she had not been here when the Keeping of the Soul had been performed for White Buffalo—the Sioux ceremony where the unfinished deeds of the deceased are resolved so that they can make the journey into the spirit world—she had still cut her waist-length locks above her shoulders as a form of mourning for her father when she found out that he was dead. “You go. I’ll stay here and keep the fire going.”

“I won’t be long,” Gentle Water said softly as she gave Meadow’s hand another affectionate squeeze.

Gentle Water saw the now-familiar look of emptiness
on the other girl’s pale face as she left her standing alone in the tepee. It occurred to her once again how displaced Meadow must feel, now that White Buffalo was gone. If Black Horse were still here and they had been married as planned, her place in the tribe would still be secure. But now Gentle Water worried about what would happen to Meadow if she continued to refuse to become Walks Tall’s woman. She could only hope that soon Meadow would realize that she had very few choices left, and Walks Tall’s offer was generous, and definitely not all unappealing.

Thinking of Walks Tall caused a shiver to race through Gentle Water. He could have his choice of any of the single girls that were of marrying age, but he was dedicated to the needs of Meadow because she had been his best friend’s woman.

Gentle Water sighed. She hoped that someday she would be married and have a family of her own. Her grandmother was very old, and Gentle Water feared that the elder woman would not live much longer. Then, both she and Meadow would be on their own. A woman alone in the Sioux village lived a difficult life.

Meadow stared blankly into the flames as she stirred the fire in the pit. She rarely thought about the future; her thoughts tended to dwell on the happier days of her past. Every day each chore seemed more difficult to do than the day before, and some days she wished she did not even have to get out of bed. Her bed offered the only meager comfort in her life—it was fashioned from the same furs she had slept on when she had still been living in White Buffalo’s tepee.

After his death, all of his belongings had been taken
to Sitting Bull’s tepee, and to Meadow’s gratification, she had been allowed to take any of her father’s possessions that she wanted when she returned. She had taken his cherished medicine pouches, his headdress, and the fur blankets that had made up her bed—the same blankets that Black Horse had also lain on the night he had stumbled into her bed in a drunken stupor. This memory made these furs even more precious to Meadow, and she hoped she could sleep in them for the rest of her life. More important even than the furs was the cherished white blanket that was to have sealed her marriage to Black Horse. Walks Tall had saved it when he had taken down his friend’s tepee, and he had given it to Meadow when she returned to the village. She could not fall asleep at night unless she was wrapped in its warmth.

The sound of footsteps approaching the tepee made Meadow’s thoughts snap back to the present. A man’s voice calling out to her made her jump, and when she recognized the voice as that of Sitting Bull, a sense of foreboding paralyzed her for a moment.

Sitting Bull called out to her again, and Meadow swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. She knew she had to answer him, but for the chief to come here, rather than to send someone else to fetch her, could only mean bad news. After taking a deep breath and trying to brace herself for whatever Sitting Bull was here to tell her, Meadow forced herself to exit the tepee. She was surprised to see Walks Tall standing next to the Sioux leader, but his presence only served to increase her uneasiness.

“There is someone who has traveled here to talk to you,” Sitting Bull said.

Meadow stared at the chief, waiting for him to say something more, but he was a man of few words, so he did not offer any further explanation. She looked toward Walks Tall for assurance, but she found none in his blank expression, either.

“They are waiting in my tepee, so we must go there now,” Sitting Bull added. He did not wait for Meadow to respond as he turned and started walking away.

Meadow’s worried gaze settled on Walks Tall again as she asked, “Who is it?”

When Walks Tall shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, Meadow knew she had no other choice but to follow the chief and face this new intrusion in her life. As she walked past Walks Tall, he reached out and grabbed hold of her hand.

Meadow did not pull her hand away from his embrace. A comforting feeling washed through her. She found that she desperately needed his strength and support right now. Knowing that he had been Black Horse’s blood brother made her feel closer to him than she felt to any other person at this time, even Gentle Water.

Sitting Bull had entered his lodge ahead of them, and by the time Meadow and Walks Tall pushed open the flap and walked in, he was already seated among the others. Meadow’s gaze went from face to face as her confusion grew. Seated beside Sitting Bull was the leader of the Mounties troop, Superintendent Walsh, and next to him was Lieutenant Cornett. Their presence was not any more surprising to Meadow than that of Gentle Water and Sings Like Sparrow, who also sat around the fire pit in the center of the large tepee.

Meadow looked back up at Walks Tall, but he was
staring at the lieutenant with an expression of disdain on his face. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach when she realized that this elite group had obviously gathered here because of her.

“Sit there,” Sitting Bull ordered as he motioned to Walks Tall and Meadow to join them on the robes surrounding the fire pit. As always, his lined face conveyed an intense expression, and it was impossible to determine how serious this situation was.

Walks Tall led Meadow to the spot the chief had motioned to and sat down beside her. A strange tension hung in the air. Not being able to contend with another second of feeling that an anvil was about to come down upon her, Meadow finally asked, “Why have I been asked to come here?” She looked directly at Sitting Bull, since he was the leader of the tribe and the person she felt she could trust the most at this moment.

“These Mounties have brought us much-needed food and white-man medicine,” Sitting Bull replied. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at the two white men, then returned his gaze to Meadow.

“We are grateful,” Meadow said to Superintendent Walsh. She did not look in the lieutenant’s direction, even when Walsh turned to him to repeat in English what she had just said in the Sioux language. Returning her attention to Sitting Bull, she waited for him to speak again.

“They have told us about your time with them after they took you from the Blackfoot village.” Sitting Bull’s stern expression did not change as he added, “We are grateful to them for helping you and caring for you when you were injured.”

Meadow swallowed hard. She was sure she knew why she was here now: she had stolen a horse and clothes from the fort, and the Mounties must be here to see to it that she was punished for her crimes. “Please tell them that I’m sorry I stole from them, but I was desperate to return to my own village, and they can have the horse back,” she said in a raspy voice. The horse had eventually made his way to the village and was among the other Sioux ponies in the corral.

Sitting Bull shook his head “They have said nothing of this. But they were worried that you had not made it back to us safely.”

Meadow drew in a deep sigh and glanced at Walsh again. “Thank you for your concern. But, as you can see, I am home.” He nodded his head and then turned to repeat her words to the lieutenant.

“The Mounties have asked for permission to take you back to the fort with them again,” the chief blurted out. “I have asked Walks Tall, Gentle Water and Sings Like Sparrow to join us as we discuss this, because they are like your family now.”

“No!” Meadow gasped as her mind frantically searched for the right reply. “Why do you think I ran away from the fort and returned here? This is where I want to be.” She looked to Gentle Water. Their eyes met and locked as Meadow silently pleaded with her friend to tell her this was not true.

Gentle Water wiped away tears as she began to speak. “I do not want for you to leave. You are my old-est and dearest friend—more like my sister than a mere friend. But you are filled with such emptiness since the deaths of White Buffalo and Black Horse. I have not seen the sparkle in your grass-colored eyes or
a smile on your lips since your return. Sometimes I am afraid that your sorrow will steal the life away from you. I will cry many tears if you must go, but I will cry many, many more tears if you stay the way you are now.”

By the time Gentle Water had finished speaking, tears were flowing down Meadow’s cheeks, too. “I—I don’t want to leave here again,” she whispered as she glanced from Gentle Water to the chief.