Takoda (2 page)

“Yeah, if you can keep them from eating them all,” he said, cracking two of them in his hands and picking the nut out of the shell.

He took a bite then leaned over and offering me one. I shook my head no, but he placed it against my lips, so I took it.

“Thank you. I guess we better be getting back,” I said nervously, as I gathered my apron up tighter to carry the pecans. John picked up the water bucket, and we walked back toward the farm.

The next day, I made my trips to the river and each time I had an uneasy feeling something wasn't right, and I was about to find out why.

When I went down late that afternoon, the sun had already dropped behind the trees, forcing shadows to form along the path I had been taking.

I hurried to the riverbank and made my way down to the water. After filling my bucket, I stood and began climbing the bank. As I made my way down the path, I came to the grove of pecan trees, and I heard the sound of a twig snap behind me.

There wasn't anything in plain sight, however, as I turned back toward the path. Just then, a pair of arms wrapped around me, one pinning my arms against my sides, the other clasped tightly against my mouth. I dropped my bucket and began kicking and screaming, but I was dragged off into the tall grass.

No amount of struggling could free me from the strong arms which held me captive. My heart was pounding so hard that it was hurting inside of my chest. I knew I was going to meet the same fate as my parents. It was an Indian who had me.

When I was half dragged into the seclusion of the trees, I saw a paint horse waiting in the shadows. The Indian wrapped his hand even tighter around my mouth, let go of my arms for a split second, then brought his hand up with a thick piece of leather in it and put it up to my mouth.

I refused to open my mouth, but he kept prying until he finally got me to open up and he quickly tied it around the back of my head. It tasted terrible, and I gagged at the thought of it being animal hide, but that was forgotten, as he bound my hands in front of me, and I realized I was being stolen.

He sat me on his horse then swung himself up behind me so fast I didn't have a chance to get a good look at him. He wrapped his arms around me and flicked the reins galloping away.

We rode until it was too dark to see, but we had arrived at a small camp. There was a lone teepee, and the remnants of a fire.

Then it dawned on me, he must have been camped here for several days.

He dismounted gracefully from the horse and helped me off in front of him. I tried to pull away from his secure grasp, but he was too strong. I was emotionally drained, scared, cold, and hungry. Too dark to plan a escape, I decided I would wait until morning then assess my options. The good thing was, he had kept me alive thus far, I prayed my luck would hold out.

I began to tremble, unable to control the emotion that was washing over me. The fear of death, or something worse, playing havoc with my thoughts. I closed my eyes for a few moments, remembering the sight of my mother and father lying in their own blood.

My eyes snapped open, as he sat down on the ground near the old fire and went about building a new one. I watched in amazement at his skill in rekindling the fire. He was no stranger to self-preservation.

Once the fire was blazing, he went into the small teepee and came back with a bag, the contents were yet a mystery to me. He took out dried meat and two pieces of flat bread. Holding it out to me, I took the bread, but refused the meat, holding it in my hands which were still bound.

He looked at me for a few minutes, and I at him. He hesitated, I'm sure he was trying to decide whether I would scream, but we both knew it wouldn't do me any good. Besides, how could I eat if my mouth was still gagged? He reached behind my head, hesitated, then began untying the gag he had in my mouth.

He began eating the meat, staring blankly at the fire as if in deep thought. This was the first chance I had to get a good look at his him. His hair was long and jet-black. It was pulled into two braids hanging down either side of his neck over his shoulders. It glistened in the firelight, and the ends were secured by leather strings. He wasn't wearing a shirt, only long pants made of animal skin which had been tanned out thin.

His skin was a deep, rich bronze color, and his chest was broad and muscular. His arms were well muscled and defined. I guessed he was probably around twenty years old.

After I finished my piece of bread, he again offered me a piece of dried meat. When I wouldn't take it, he slowly moved it toward my mouth, but he waited for some reason, like he was testing me. Maybe he was afraid I would bite him. I opened my mouth and took the meat. He nodded his approval.

He watched me for a long time, like he was memorizing my features.

After we ate, he reached for my bound hands and tugged on them for me to stand. He put the bag with the food back inside the teepee, then held open the flap for me to go inside.

I was petrified. I had no idea what he was going to do next, but when he folded the flap down behind me, with him staying outside, I collapsed on the ground and stifled my sobs in my hands. I crawled over onto a large piece of fur, which was lying on the ground, and curled up, trying to get a grip on myself, wondering what his intentions were.

I must have cried myself to sleep. I dreamed about the night my parents were killed. I cried, as I looked on their bodies. I must have screamed, because my kidnapper was there beside me.

Frantic, I scooted as far from him as I could and drew my knees to my chest. He reached for me, taking hold of my arm.

I tried to get up, but tripped over the furs and fell into his arms. He held onto me and wouldn't let me go. It wasn't threatening. I felt his muscles relax, as he wrapped me in his warm arms. He wasn't there to hurt me, or he would have already.

He drew me down beside him on the animal fur and moved over, so he was against my back with his chest and stomach. He laid an arm over me to protect me and keep me warm. He never let go, and soon, I feel back to sleep.

When I awoke, I pushed the flap back and peered outside. He motioned for me to come out of the tepee, as he threw dirt on the fire.

He gave me another piece of flat bread and a strip of meat. I watched him take down the teepee and within minutes, he had everything secured to the back of the horse. He climbed onto the horse, reached down, and pulled me up with him.

I wondered why he was allowing me to ride with him. If I was his captive, I was sure to receive harsh treatment.

We rode until the sun the high in the sky. We stopped to give the horse water. I got down from the horse and scooped handfuls of fresh water and drank.

I hadn't heard him move, but he was standing beside me. He reached toward my mouth, waited a moment, and then wiped the water from my lips. This single gesture confirmed what I had begun to suspect. He didn't want to hurt me, at least not yet.

We got back onto the horse, and galloped off again, riding until it was almost dark, then he stopped and set up camp for the night.

We sat near the fire, and he reached inside the leather bag, but this time took out a different type of bread. He held it carefully and came over to sit beside me, broke off a piece, and brought it to my lips.

I watched his eyes the entire time, while he fed me a bite of the bread. It was sweet and had a wonderful flavor. I wiped the crumbs away and looked down at the remaining bread in his hand, but he was intent on keeping it there and feeding it to me, piece by piece.

When I had eaten down to the last bite, I reached into his hand, took it, and brought it to his lips. He looked at me for a moment, then at my hand, before opening his mouth and taking it from me.

I smiled and said, “Thank you.”

He quickly looked away, showing signs of embarrassment, then he left to gather wood for the fire. When he finished, he went to the teepee and held the flap open for me to go inside. Once more I curled up on the fur and went to sleep.

I woke shivering during the night. As if reading my mind, he opened the flap and stretched out beside me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up close.

The next two days were the same. We traveled during the day, camped at night, and he would come in to keep me warm. When I woke, he would be outside getting things ready to leave. On the third day, however, I noticed he didn't eat. He only offered me the food; I figured we were running low on rations, and we must be close to his home. I was right. Later that day, we came into an Indian village at the base of the mountains.

The land was beautiful, and the village was large. The people were busy working around the large teepee's at various tasks and children were running around playing. It looked very much like the towns I had traveled through, except these people were much darker, and the buildings were portable, not permanent.

As we came into camp, I noticed a few young men, about the same age as the one behind me on the horse, smile and shake their heads at him. He just sat up even taller on the horse and wrapped his arm around me. It was almost as if he had proved them wrong about something, and I had a feeling that something was me.

When we got off of the horse, several of his people gathered around, and he spoke for the first time. His voice was clear and deep, yet very soothing. I watched him, as he told his people, I'm sure about our adventure, and how we had come to be there in the village.

He tensed up, as several older men approached, and stepped in front of me slightly as though he was putting himself between me and them. He kept his hand on my arm, but never hurt me. He had always been gentle with me.

After he talked with them, they nodded and several women came to take me away. They took me to a large teepee. We went inside, and they took my dress off. I tried to stop them, but I soon realized they wanted to put one of their dresses on me, which was made of animal skin just like my captor's pants.

Then they began pulling my hair down and braided it like theirs. They wanted me to look more like them. But my light brown hair and fair skin was no comparison to their beautiful, black hair and dark skin.

When we came back out, the whole village was a flurry of activity, and it revolved around a meal or feast of some sort. I sat on a large rock near the teepee I had changed in and watched as they worked together.

That night there was a large amount of food spread out on a big piece of animal skin on the ground, and the young women who had helped me change, urged me to go forward and get something to eat. I looked around but didn't see the young man who had brought me here until I sat back down. He was across the fire from me and watching my every move.

~~***~~

The days went by fast, and soon I had been at the Indian village for two months. I was learning the language, working right alongside the other young women, and managing to get my captor talking to me, though he seemed shy.

I learned his name was Takoda. He and his people were Crow Indians. I also learned several days after I had been brought to the camp that he spoke English. He called me Sayen, my real name was Sara, but I didn't mind.

As time went by, and he and I talked more and spent more time together, he told me he had been passing by the river on a hunting trip when he first saw me. He also confessed he came back after the hunt and watched me for days, trying to decide what to do, but when he saw my cousin, John, touching my hair and feeding me the pecan, he knew he was going to take me away because he didn't like the white boy touching me.

At night, I sometimes lay awake and remember how it felt to be in his arms when we journeyed to the village. I found myself thinking about him often.

I told Takoda about my parents. He said it was probably the Cheyenne Indians. They were fierce warriors and hated all white men because they had been driven from their homes—their land. After many hours of talking with Takoda, I knew he and his people were different, and they would never hurt me.

One day as we sat by river I asked him, “Takoda, why did you take me away from my family?”

He turned to face me. “I wanted you.”

His words made me feel an unusual feeling inside of me.

“Takoda, you can't just steal people away,” I told him, thinking about my aunt, uncle, and the boys.

“This is true, and I am sorry. But would you have come with me if I had asked?”

“No. You were a stranger to me.”

“I am no stranger now. It is time for you to make your choice. I will take you back, if you wish to go.”

“You would take me back to the farm, to my family?”

“Yes.” He looked at the ground.

“But that's not what
you
want, is it?”

“No. I want you here with me.”

“What are you saying, Takoda?”

“I say,
nayeli nuttah
,” he replied, turning to look back at me.

“
Nayeli nuttah
. I feel my heart?” I asked confused.

“No.
Nayeli nuttah
. It means ‘I love you in my heart'.”

After watching me all those days by the river, he took me from my family because he fell in love with me. He wanted me for his wife.