Holding on to Heaven (26 page)

"What woman?" she asked. "Who do I remind you of?"

"Her!" he said, slumping into a slat-back on the porch. "The one they kidnapped, the one I must find."

The tracker relaxed his stance. "Why don't you drink the water?"

The woman glanced at Peter Pa. He looked skyward and the color had left his rosy cheeks. The old man rose from the chair, still carrying the child as he paced. "This can't be happening," he whispered.

The woman stared at the man she called grandfather. "What can't be happening?"

The old man ignored her and kept on pacing.

She turned to Creed with a knowing look on her face, almost as if she knew his answer before she asked. "What is the name of this woman you must find?"

He threw up his hands, resigned to the possibility he'd lost his mind. "Her name is Lauren, Lauren McCain."

The woman clutched the railing and her knuckles turned white. The Indian rushed to her side, but to Creed, he seemed to move in slow motion. When she turned to her grandfather, she turned white, as if the blood was siphoned from her face.

"Sage, sit down," the tracker said.

"I'm all right." Her voice shook. "I must hear this. It's the same name Grandmother spoke before she died."

Creed had no idea what they were babbling about. He only knew the woman¯the one dressed like an Indian¯looked exactly like Lauren. He read somewhere everyone had a twin in the world, but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine there were two Laurens.

Her eyes misted over when she turned to him. "Please, continue; tell me about her."

Creed wanted to speak, but his throat went dry and his head hammered like someone had taken an anvil to it. He'd seen those tears before when he left for the war.

She turned to the old man. "Tell me. Unlock the door."

Peter Pa folded his lower lip around his teeth and nodded. "I think it best we all go inside and sit down."

When they entered the small cabin, Peter Pa took a seat at the table and motioned Creed into an empty chair across from him. "Sage," he said. "Please come here and sit." He pointed to a chair across the table.

The tracker held the small boy, and the girl crawled into his lap as if sensing the tangled emotions in her mother.

Peter Pa cleared his throat. "I don't know where to begin so I'll just start." All eyes fell upon him. "Your grandmother, Evrasina, was a midwife in North Carolina for many years. She attended many births, including those born to a family by the name of McCain."

"Drew McCain?" Creed asked.

"Yes, I believe that's his name. A difficult birth, the first child died, or at least they thought she'd died. When Evrasina discovered that another struggled to enter the world, she handed the stillborn to the attending servants and set about delivering the next. She planned to prepare the infant for burial the following morning and took the child with her to a guest cottage. In the middle of the night, she heard muffled cries coming from the infant, and¾"

"And what, Peter Pa? What happened?" The woman's voice rose to a hysterical level. "Who was that infant?"

He held her gaze. "You, Sage. You were the infant they assumed had died."

Her jaw dropped. "What? Peter Pa, what are you saying?" She covered her mouth with her hands.

He shook his head. "Child, I know this must be very difficult, but please, hear me out. Your grandmother loved you. She wrapped you in a blanket and left Beaufort the next morning on a ship. That's how you came to be with her. She couldn't give you back once she held you. The McCains never knew and everyone believed the first child had died. Out of desperation and loneliness, she took you away when you were only a day old."

Although stunned by the old man's revelations, Creed thought it certainly explained why this woman looked and talked like Lauren.

"The rest you know, Sage," Peter Pa continued. "The journey to Milwaukee and then to Minnesota by wagon, how she and I met and fell in love." He paused, his smile reflective. "I would have married her long ago, but she wouldn't have me."

"Why wasn't I told?"

"She thought you would despise her if she revealed the truth, and I promised never to tell, but now..." He looked at Creed. "I think she'd agree, circumstances have changed and the truth must be told."

Relieved he hadn't lost his mind, Creed found his tongue again. "You asked me about Lauren. She came to Minnesota from North Carolina over a year ago to visit her aunt and uncle at their ranch. Her father¾your father," he corrected himself, "still lives in the south. Your mother, Clarissa, died during childbirth when Lauren was young."

"I have another sibling?"

Creed shook his head. "The boy died too."

Sage eyed him judiciously. "You must know her quite well."

"No," he said. "Well, yes, but she didn't tell me about her childhood, Estelle did."

"Estelle? Sage asked, her expression revealing her confusion.

"Your aunt. Her ranch is close to New Ulm and the Sioux kidnapped your twin from there."

Very quietly, Sage said, "I don't believe this."

Chapter Fifteen

Sage wracked her brain for clues and answers. Hadn't she always known? Something? Silence surrounded her, except for the thousand hornets that had taken up residence between her ears. She winced and sheer black anger swept over her.
Grandmother was not really my grandmother? My parents didn't die in an epidemic?
I have a twin sister?
A father?
She gripped the edge of the table, rose, and bolted outside.

Wanapaya appeared beside her moments later. "I'm not really me. My entire life is a lie!" Her harried steps tore up the ground beneath her feet. "You aren't married to who you think you are. This is so incredibly unbelievable!" She stopped her frantic gait and turned to him. "What are we going to do?"

He went to her and drew her into his arms. "Sage, I'm married to the woman I love. You are who you are¾a wonderful wife and mother. The children adore you. I love you. It doesn't matter to me who your parents were, or are in your father's case."

"In my heart I've always known," she said despondently.

"Listen to me." He cupped her chin, his warm hand like a balm to her soul. "Evrasina loved you more than life, taught you much about the earth, the universe."

She collapsed against his chest and wept.

"In my tribe, there is a great legend about the bear. He sleeps when old man winter comes, gathers his strength for trials that await him in the Moon of the Awakening. Those given life during this time will grow to be strong leaders, for the bear is the symbol of strength and protection.

You are a child born while the bear sleeps, and like the bear, you have been gathering your strength for many years for what comes now. Our children, Mataya and Storm, were also born during this time. The Spirits would not allow this to happen if not for a reason."

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I discover the truth when a stranger rides in?"

"He didn't just ride in. A great Spirit sent him." He held her from him, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Your life is what it is and this changes nothing. You were destined to cross my path no matter where you were born, just like you are destined now to come face-to-face with the one of your soul."

Pain squeezed her heart as she thought of the woman now, her sister, alone, frightened, and God only knew what else. "What if she's already dead?"

"She lives."

She didn't ask him how he knew, he always knew.

"You must follow the path wherever it leads now. There is no other choice."

Her husband didn't believe in coincidences. The spirits work in mysterious ways, he'd told her time and again. They were at work now; she felt it with every drop of blood coursing through her veins. Their eyes locked. "You are mine, my dark warrior, always mine." She glanced at the house and sniffled. "I think we must help this stranger. If she is truly of my blood, we must bring her home."

"I will tell him we leave in the morning."

Sage entered the kitchen, walked to Peter Pa, and threw her arms about his neck. "I love you," she whispered. "Nothing will ever change that."

His shoulders sagged with relief.

She turned to the tall, aloof stranger who had entered their lives. "Do you have a name?"

"Creed, Creed Gatlin."

"Well Creed Gatlin, we will help you find my sister and I’ll defend her with my life."

Only then did Creed relax his clenched hands. "Thank you. Now all I have to do is explain why I ride with a woman who's her mirror image."

Wanapaya walked to the hearth, stirred the pot and smiled. "Now we eat."

While Creed devoured a bowl of venison stew, the tracker caught his gaze across the table. "If the French have her, it will be a hard fight to get her back. They don't take kindly to stealing."

"Stealing?" Creed said. "She doesn't belong to them."

"She does as far as they're concerned."

"I'm used to hard fights."

Wanapaya smiled again. "I thought as much."

Later that night, Creed lay under a canopy of stars, his mind reeling from everything that had happened in the last few days. He couldn't allow himself to think about what Lauren might be going through, what degradations she'd been subjected to. He'd deal with it when the time came. He'd kill the bastards first, then he'd ask her why the hell she married his brother.

* * * *

Creed watched Wanapaya and Sage say goodbye to their children. Sage held them close, delivered teardrop kisses to their cheeks, and no doubt wondered if this dangerous journey would return her safely home. Even the tracker's eyes were moist by the time he slipped the children into Peter Pa's arms.

Creed mounted and took in the sky. No rain today. Even early in the morning, the sun beamed down hotter than a prairie fire. By noon, the humidity would be insufferable. Creed reined in behind Wanapaya and Sage and the hound picked up the rear behind his horse.

Wanapaya turned in the saddle. "They're inseparable, Sage and Blue Boy."

"Tell that mean son of a bitch I really like his mistress," Creed said with a laugh.

The dog was aptly named. On the left, his eye was blue, on the right, brown. Other than the hound's chilling snarl, his eyes were the first thing Creed noticed. The dog avoided direct contact with Creed, but seemed to sense he wasn't the enemy. For a canine, Blue Boy seemed slyer than a fox near a hen house.

Wanapaya smiled. "He'll get used to you. Sage relies on his ability to sniff out dangerous men."

Creed wondered if the last comment was directed at him. "Can he track?"

"Not much good at tracking. Blue Boy figured out long ago he doesn't have to work at that as long as I'm around."

The dog trailed his mistress during the day and followed her commands without hesitation, whether by sign or voice. By the time they rode into Full Circle, Blue Boy had earned Creed's respect.

Desolation and despair clung to the pines and oaks. Even the livestock had run off after Nelly and Biddle freed them. The army left their footprints, and a giant mound rose from the ground where they'd buried Mason's horses. Creed silently thanked them. He'd smelled enough death lately to last a lifetime.

Wanapaya pointed to an area near the barn. "Fresh tracks from a wagon."

"The army's buckboard. Found them in the woods searching for survivors before I rode to your place. They agreed to send a wagon and a doctor for Estelle." He hesitated and drew a breath. "And I asked them to bury my brother at the homestead if they found him."

The tracker slid from his pony. "They went in the direction of Mankato, ten horses, one wagon."

Creed pushed the bandana into his hairline to soak up the sweat. "Estelle must have insisted on going to a town rather than to the fort."

The tracker circled the yard, his face bent toward the ground. Stopping near the corral, he looked at Creed.

"What?"

"A struggle here," he said and pointed. "Trampled dirt. Small boots running in circles, many ponies, and one pair of moccasins. There is blood mixed into the earth and the tracks disappear. The injured one did not leave on foot."

The recurring dread returned. When Creed looked at the spot where Lauren had been hit on the head and yanked onto the pony, he stumbled on the words. "That's the way Biddle described it. Can you tell which direction they headed?"

Wanapaya raised his hand toward the woods.

"Oh, my God," Sage said closing her eyes briefly. "What she must have gone through, wild heathens, screaming horses, everyone dead around her." She looked at the churned up dirt. "She is very brave?"

"Foolish is more like it," Creed said, the frustration choking him. "Why would she fight them? Why the hell didn't she run and hide like Nelly?" he said to no one in particular.

Sage urged Withers forward and signed to Blue Boy.

Wanapaya entered the woods, a dark, ominous place Creed imagined recently departed spirits roamed, crying out for revenge. When they emerged on the other side, they followed a narrow trail to the river.

"This will lead us to the Dakota village."

Numerous villages rested along the banks of the Mississippi. Creed wondered how the man knew which one was the
right
one. To his untrained eye, the downpour several days ago had obliterated the tracks from the unshod ponies, but somehow the tracker picked them up.

They reined in their mounts near a circle of trees that provided cover in all directions.

"I'll go alone from here," Wanapaya said, turning to them. "The Dakota know me. We are not alike in beliefs, but we are not enemies."

Creed shook his head. "I want to see for myself if she's there."

"They will kill you if you ride into their camp. I have a better chance if I go alone. If she's there, I will know, and if she's gone, I'll find out who took her."

Sage and Creed sat atop their mounts in silence in the small clearing. Blue Boy sniffed out the terrain, but stayed within striking distance of Sage.

"He will alert us if anyone comes," Sage whispered.