White Wind (30 page)

“Hey, why does he get her?” Protest from behind had Willy spinning around. He whipped out his knife from his boot and pointed it at the gawking men. “Any of you got problems with my orders?”

All three hastily backed off, and mounted when motioned to do so. Walking to where Sarah waited, Willy jerked her hard to her feet. “You goddamned bitch! You knew she was followin’ all along.” A hazy red film framed his vision of Sarah’s wide-eyed glance at the unconscious Wild-Flower. Swinging his hand, Willy slapped Sarah hard, knocking her to the ground.

He was about to deliver another bruising blow when Harry’s voice stopped him, hand held high, ready to strike. “Come on, Will. We’ve got to get outta here. We need to be real careful about our trail now. Follow me. Do what you want with her later.” Going to the stream, he urged his mount down the middle.

For the first time since her kidnapping, Sarah slumped in the saddle and did not fight Willy. Her face showed the fear she could no longer hide. Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, as if to block out the voice near her ear. Her hands settled over her abdomen as if to protect the tiny life that grew there.

Tears streaked down her cheeks, leaving moist trails in the layers of dust. Her lips moved silently in a last plea to the golden warrior she’d given up hope of ever seeing again.

Evil laughter floated overhead, surrounding and shrouding her in a black blanket of despair.

Golden Eagle and Chief White Cloud reached Sarah’s cabin by early evening. Using head motions and hand signals, Golden Eagle silently positioned his warriors around the cabins and concealed himself on the hillside to wait.

He shifted to the right as Chief White Cloud joined him, the older man’s arm resting on Golden Eagle’s shoulder as dark sienna eyes met coal-black ones. Each sent silent reassurances to the other. White Wind would be returned to them.

The squeak of a door opening captured their undivided attention. Golden Eagle stiffened, his eyes trained on the larger of the two cabins, his hand tightening on his bow.

He relaxed somewhat when a small plump woman came through the door. Golden Eagle’s eyes widened. Despite the white woman’s strange attire, he recognized her as the one who’d greeted the young injured Sarah with much scolding many summers ago. His eyes followed her every movement as she tromped loudly along the wooden porch to the corner of the house. Reaching up, she grabbed hold of a dangling cord and pulled. Loud ringing filled the air as the woman continued to pull the cord vigorously.

The unexpected loud noise startled the warriors. All had their weapons drawn and were ready to defend themselves when several white men approached the area on horseback, shouting and laughing.

Blending into their surroundings, waiting and watching, the warriors relaxed somewhat when it became obvious that the sound was some sort of signal to the white men, calling them to the wood house for the evening meal that had many noses lifting to sniff appreciatively at the teasing aroma of cooked food. Bellies rumbled, reminding all that it had been days since their last hot meal.

As the evening passed, Golden Eagle grew restless. Sarah and her captors should have arrived by now. He leaned to the side to whisper in White Cloud’s ear. Receiving the older man’s nod, he left his place of concealment, keeping low to the ground, one silent shadow among many in the night.

Reclaiming his waiting stallion, hobbled a safe distance away, he rode off to scout for approaching riders. As he passed through the small secluded meadow, memories stopped him.

He stared into gloomy darkness. The sadness and despair he’d forced aside rose to the surface. The pain of knowing he could lose his White Wind became sharper and more deadly than any pain he’d ever known. He dismounted and strode to the spot where Sarah had once lain injured. This was where it had all started. He closed his eyes and fell to his knees as images of young Sarah dancing among the tall grasses flashed before him, blinding him to all else.

As if it were yesterday, her childish laughter rang across the meadow. Golden Eagle clung to the image of Sarah’s wide blue eyes looking upon him with such innocent trust, felt in his heart that she was still alive, again trusting him to help her.

He shook his head and forced his eyes to open to the present, dispelling past memories that only brought pain. Golden Eagle raised a fist to the night sky. “I will find you, White Wind. Do not fear, my sweet one. You will soon be at my side where you belong,” he vowed to the heavens. As he rose and returned to mount Great Star, a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever see the same innocence
reflected in his own child’s eyes. Would he hear the same carefree laughter in his daughter’s voice, see the same love of life in their children that had drawn him to the woman who would forever hold his heart?

Chief Hawk Eyes stared with mounting frustration at the thick cloud-covered sky above. There was no bright moon to light their path, no twinkling stars to guide them. Returning his gaze to the barely discernible shadows moving about in the dark, he cursed. Unless the moon showed her face, the trail was lost to them until the new day began.

Hawk Eyes joined Running Wolf, who was deep in conversation with one of his warriors. Both warriors stopped and parted to make room for the old chief. Lone Hunter lowered his head in defeat as he shamefully admitted they could do nothing further tonight. Running Wolf squeezed Lone Hunter’s shoulder in silent comfort and turned toward the chief.

“Lone Hunter is my best tracker. If he cannot find the trail, none can.” Cursing beneath his breath. Running Wolf turned from Chief Hawk Eyes, smacking his fist into his palm. His shoulders drooped. “We can go no farther without light from
Hanwi.
What now? The evil whites have my sister.” Turning, he corrected himself. “Both my sisters. I can’t stay here and do nothing, yet it’s too dark to search for their trail without the risk of destroying it.”

Chief Hawk Eyes stared into the young warrior’s troubled features. He stood silent for long moments, watching Running Wolf clench and unclench his large fists in growing frustration and worry. Hawk Eyes felt the same helplessness assail him. He too did not relish the thought of just sitting around waiting.

Looking around the group awaiting his commands, Hawk Eyes came to a decision. “Prepare to ride, Running Wolf. We will go to the white man’s house of wood. My son awaits us.” He motioned for Red Fox to join them.

Picking a handful of warriors to accompany him, he commanded the rest, “You will remain here and wait for the clouds to clear. When you find their trail, follow carefully. I want no harm to come to White Cloud’s daughters.” There was no doubt the warriors would eventually find the trail. It was just a matter of time.

Turning to Red Fox, he commanded, “You have been to the white man’s home. You will lead us there now.” Red Fox nodded and, with Running Wolf at his side, they ran to their horses and leaped onto their backs, eager for any activity.

Red Fox and Running Wolf rode up to flank the chief. Hawk Eyes eyed the two worried warriors. “We will find them and take our revenge on those who dare to harm our women. Do not forget, the deaths of Stands Tall’s daughters must also be avenged,” he reminded them, knowing revenge was to be had at last. Silence met his words.

The old chief knew Red Fox and Running Wolf were thinking of the large branch found near Wild-Flower’s abandoned horse with traces of dried blood upon it.

But there had been no sign of Wild-Flower. The past few hours their search had slowed drastically. They prided themselves on their ability to track even at night, but none could track in the pitch black of a moonless night. The difficult task required careful and sometimes painstaking work. The faintest of foot- or hoofprints, one broken or torn leaf, or an overturned rock were all they needed to spot the white man’s trail.

But the whites had suddenly started taking care to hide their trail since they’d discovered Wild-Flower’s presence. After much searching the pursuers had finally found the tracks where the shod horses had left the stream.

Hawk Eyes shook his head. The shrewd white men kept returning to the stream, and several times they had cunningly split forces and led false trails before coming back together. As dark had fallen, the search had become more difficult, then impossible, with no help from above.

The ground started to rise steeply, and Hawk Eyes returned his attention to guiding his horse up the steep ridge.

Soft morning rays were streaking across the horizon, adding color to the scattered white clouds floating on the breeze.

As he crouched motionless in his place of hiding, worry lines etched deep grooves on Golden Eagle’s forehead and around his compressed lips. He glanced at the horizon. Those who had taken White Wind should have arrived long ago by his calculations. His sharp gaze scanned the area, looking for signs of approaching movement. He gave the land his full attention, and his eagle-sharp gaze missed nothing. Gray wisps of smoke rose from the roof of the cabin, rippling in waves as the breeze caught and tore it away. The smell of cooking food once again filled the air.

Sounds of life awakening stirred in the undergrowth and above in the trees. As he had done last night, his sleep-deprived eyes followed several white men striding about the dirt yard before entering the wooden home with mouthwatering aromas emanating from it. Golden Eagle planned his next move. They couldn’t remain here much longer. It was too dangerous.

Chirping and flapping overhead commanded his attention as small feathered birds flitted from branch to branch and called a good-morning to one another.

Golden Eagle cocked his head and listened intently to one particular birdcall. He came to full alertness, all tiredness fleeing as he lifted his head, cupped his mouth with his hands and answered.

Standing over the hot stove, Mary impatiently shoved wisps of hair behind her ears as she added slick slabs of juicy blood-red steaks to the sizzling pan. In another sizzling skillet she fried brown eggs gathered from wild prairie chickens, while placing slices of hot freshly baked bread on the table.

Three hungry men sauntered in and joined Ben at the table after filling mugs with strong-brewed coffee.

Opening the shutters in the kitchen, Mary sighed as the refreshing breeze cooled her flushed face and replaced the stuffy, steamy air.

Turning, she placed pans of steaming food in the center of the table. As she straightened, she motioned for Ben to say grace. Ben eyed her impatiently, but Mary stood firm, crossing her arms across her ample bosom. Since Sarah’s disappearance, she was taking no chances in offending their Lord.

When the final amen was uttered, she gave the signal for each to begin dishing up. The reverent hush was suddenly broken as hungry men reached across the table, each taking his share of thick slabs of meat, eggs and bread. Forks hit tin as each one eagerly dug in.

Mary knew from experience that the large amount of food she’d spent an hour cooking would be gone in minutes. Taking her seat at the crowded table, she sat back
and relaxed with her mug of sweetened coffee. She usually ate after the men left to go about the daily chores.

Plates were emptied, bellies filled and coffee mugs refilled. Ben kept the discussion centered on horses, furs to be readied and traps to be checked. He was careful to keep any mention of their ongoing search for Sarah from Mary.

Mary ignored the men’s conversation. As usual, her thoughts centered on Sarah. It had been nearly three months since Sarah had disappeared and no one had been able to find any trace of her girl. She sighed sadly. Catching her husband’s quizzical look, she smiled wistfully.

Ben rose, signaling mealtime was over. Mary also rose and walked with Ben to the doorway.

He drew Mary into his arms. “Sarah’s alive out there somewhere, love. We have to believe that. She’ll come back to us.”

Looking over his shoulder into the yard, Mary dabbed at her moist eyes. “I know, Ben. I know. Sometimes I just can’t help but wonder where she is and if she’s all right. It’s not knowin’, the uncertainty, that gets to me.”

Mary returned Ben’s hug. Her arms tightened as she drew courage to face another long day from her mate. For his sake, she would try to be brave. Straightening, she squared her shoulders and gave her husband a weak smile as she pushed him out the door, following. “Now off with you. I’ll just bring my cup of coffee out to the porch this morning.” She cocked her head. “Why, just listen to them birds this morning, singing and calling to one another. They’re one of Our Lord’s finest gifts. You know how Sarah loved to sit and listen to them each morning. Why, many a day she’d even eat her breakfast out here…”

Ben’s head snapped around and he peered outside, eyes narrowing. Holding up a hand to still Mary’s chatter, he listened, his bushy brows lowering worriedly. Suddenly, he flew into action. “Get inside. Now! Stay there and don’t come out.” Giving his woman a shove, Ben ran to the giant cowbell hanging on the corner of the cabin and rang frantically. As his fellow trappers ran to join him, he grabbed his rifle off the porch where he’d leaned it earlier.

Startled by the loud peals of the bell, Golden Eagle halted in midsentence in his conversation with his father, Chief White Cloud and Red Fox and ran toward his vantage point.

Golden Eagle swore when he saw the white trappers running, guns in hand, to join the man pulling on the cord as the old woman had done the night before. Calling for food was not the only purpose of that object, he learned. Somehow, the whites knew they were there.

Ben froze in the midst of warning his trapper friends that he suspected trouble was upon them when he caught movement from the corner of his eye.

The others followed his gaze and also froze. Ben wasn’t aware of the gasps of shock coming from those surrounding him. He attention never wavered from the force of fierce-looking Indians that came silently and from nowhere. Each horse carried an imposing warrior perched upon its back, bows held with arrows notched and ready. Hanging from their left side or lower backs, each had a quiver of arrows within easy reach if needed. With their knees, they easily controlled their mounts as they slowly but deliberately edged forward in a half circle until they were but several yards away,

Ben swallowed fearfully and studied those who approached. One warrior in the center held up his hand, signaling a halt. Another command and bows were lowered, still within quick access if needed but not so intimidating. Ben never let his gaze waver from that warrior. Clearly this was their leader.

He lowered his rifle to a less threatening position and motioned the others to do the same. He didn’t want to start something by someone making a wrong move. They were far outnumbered.

The silence seemed to go on forever when four more Indians left the safety of the woods and rode up from the rear to join the leader. Ben’s eyes widened in alarm. His stunned gaze took in the headdress and attire of not one, but two chiefs who now flanked the lead warrior, bringing the count to at least fifteen warriors standing before them.

Holding up a shaky hand, Ben cautioned the others. “Easy, boys. We don’t know how many are still hidden. Hold your fire. Nobody fires without my signal. I’ll go see what they want, but be on guard,” he cautioned.

Silence reigned as men from two different races watched and waited to see who would make the first move. Golden Eagle nudged his horse forward and stopped. The others remained behind him. His piercing gaze took in each white man, and rested on the woman who stepped from the doorway.

Ben handed his rifle to the man next to him and took a few steps forward, hand held in the universal sign for peace. Each of the rough-looking mountain men behind him tensed, ready to defend a man who had the honor of being called friend by all of them.

Ben took a moment to study the warrior who sat his horse as if he and the animal were one. He gulped nervously as he took several steps toward the silent, imposing Indian.

The horse sidestepped impatiently and tossed his sleek head as Ben approached. Ben’s gaze was momentarily diverted to the warrior’s magnificent beast. A single soft-spoken command stilled the restless stallion, and Ben raised his brows toward the warrior in respect.

As he stared from warrior to horse, fleeting memories chose that moment to surface. Ben warily shifted his eyes from the warrior back to the golden horse standing several feet from him.

He was known in these parts for his eye for good horseflesh. That was one reason the commander at Fort Tecumseh paid him to breed strong, sturdy mounts. Many of the mustangs he and John had caught and tamed had produced exceptional
offspring, fast, agile and extremely hardy. These were much-needed traits out here in the wilderness.

This particular stallion was not only a fine specimen, but also familiar. In seconds Ben had taken note of the glistening coat, the strong broad body, dark flowing mane, strong neck and proud head.

He studied the white star in the center of the horse’s muzzle. He’d recognize that horse anywhere, anytime. It was one he’d helped deliver many years ago, one of their best back then. In his excitement, Ben forgot about the possible danger as he approached.

“I remember the day John presented this yearling to his daughter on her twelfth birthday and her joy and love for the young colt.”

He frowned and glanced at the watchful warrior sitting above him. “I also remember the night this young colt disappeared. John said it had been stolen, but I saw what happened that night with my own eyes,” Ben said loudly.

He remembered his surprise when he’d gone outside for a smoke the night Sarah had sprained her ankle. He’d seen John come out of the barn carrying Sarah and leading the colt. “I followed them, you know. Saw them leave the colt tied to a tree and walk away. I stayed to see just what was going on.” Ben shook his head.

“Sure was surprised to see a young warrior come right up, calm the colt and disappear in the night with Sarah’s prized horse. Figured you must’ve done somethin’ real special for her to make that kind of sacrifice.” No one knew better than he what that horse meant to her.

Cocking his head, Ben looked toward the waiting warrior. He saw the hint of amusement shining from within luminous deep black eyes, despite the grimness of the warrior’s features.

As no immediate threat seemed forthcoming, Ben drew even with the stallion and reached out to run his hand down the muzzle, talking softly. “He turned out better man I ever hoped. Sarah raised this young-un herself. You have done her proud. She would have been happy to see what a fine beast he’s become.”

Putting his hands to his hips, Ben forced himself back to business. “What brings you back to our land? Why have you returned? What do you want from us?” he demanded aloud, more for the benefit of the others. He used hand signals for the Indian, not expecting him to understand him.

Golden Eagle had been amazed when he saw recognition flare in the old man’s eyes. Leaning forward, he posed his own question.

“Tell me, old man. Where is Sarah this day? Is she here?” Golden Eagle straightened at the shadow of sadness in the old man’s eyes.

Ben drew himself to his full imposing height, his protective instincts bristling, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he answered with a question of his own. “Now why do you want to know about a girl you’ve not seen in five years? Why are you here? What do you want from us?” he repeated.

Looking toward the restless men armed with rifles, Golden Eagle sought to reassure him. “We mean no harm to you or your people. We search for the one who is to become my wife. She was abducted from our village. I seek your help.”

“I’m sorry, son. We know nothing about any Indian girl,” Ben answered, relief relaxing his features.

“The one I search for has the name White Wind, daughter of Chief White Cloud of the
Hunkpapas.
” He pointed out Sarah’s father, who came forward. “White Wind is the future wife of Golden Eagle, son of Hawk Eyes, Chief of the Miniconjou tribe.” He pointed appropriately at himself and his father.

“White Wind is also known by the white man’s name of Sarah,” he announced.

A startled cry came from the porch. Mary flew down the worn path, eluding hands that reached out to stop her. She came to stand by her husband’s side to hear news of her Sarah.

Ben threw Mary a withering glare. “Thought I told you to stay inside, woman. Can’t you ever do as I ask?” he sternly scolded her.

Mary gave her husband her famous “do hush up” look and turned her attention to the warrior. “My girl, she’s alive? Please tell me.” Mary closed her eyes as if afraid of what she’d hear.

Golden Eagle reacted to the woman’s sincere concern. “When last seen, your ‘daughter’ was alive and well.” He motioned his warriors to put away their weapons, and dismounted as Ben likewise instructed his men to put their rifles away.

Ben and Mary stared at the chief, this warrior who claimed to be Sarah’s father. “Sarah left us a letter months ago stating she was going to seek safety elsewhere and maybe search for her father. It would seem she was successful.” Ben nodded his head toward White Cloud. “We’ve not heard nor seen her since.”

Mary stepped forward. “Where is she? Why is she not with you still?” Her voice trailed off as a new fear took hold. Something horrible must’ve happened for this many Indians to come searching for her.

Golden Eagle took several deep breaths. His chest squeezed painfully. “We talk. I will tell you all I know.”

Ben looked toward Mary, who nodded. “Come,” he invited, “we will talk inside.” He turned and led the way to the door.

Golden Eagle motioned for Red Fox to dismount. Followed by Red Fox, his father, Chief White Cloud and Running Wolf, he entered the strange large house of wood. Gingerly, he sat at the wooden table, easing himself onto the wooden seat, following Ben’s example. The others also sat themselves.

After all were seated, and those who wanted to listen were standing around the edges of the room, a hush fell upon the two groups of men. Speaking clearly, Golden Eagle disclosed all he knew, from his first encounter with Sarah at the stream to how they’d discovered that she was the daughter of White Cloud.

Ben frowned and glared at Golden Eagle. “You took our girl from us, but you kept her from harm. We found out later that good-fer-nothin’ Willy had gone to the fort. Lieutenant Smithers kicked him out for bein’ drunk and raisin’ hell with his men soon after.”

Ben slammed his fist onto the table and stared at Golden Eagle. “That bastard. I don’t know what to tell you and your people. We will join your search.” Ben leaned forward, eyes intently on Golden Eagle. “But I warn you right now, Golden Eagle, if we find her, she returns with me unless she chooses to return with you. It must be her choice. I will not allow her to be forced again.”

Golden Eagle met Ben’s fierce protective stare with his own. Slowly, he nodded, knowing that Sarah would return with him. “Agreed,” he said.

“Hey, Ben,” Jacob called out. “Me ’n’ Sam, well, we may know somethin’.” All eyes turned to a stout bushy-faced man standing outside, lounging against the doorway. Flushing as many pairs of eyes suddenly focused on him, Jacob nervously cleared his throat.

“Well, spit it out, for God’s sake. What do you know?” Ben demanded.

“Well, I don’t know nothin’ fer sure ’bout Miss Sarah, but on our last trip to take them horses to the fort for you, we rode by old Clyde’s abandoned tradin’ post to avoid a roaming party of not-so-friendly-looking Injuns.” Jacob coughed and cleared his throat nervously as he’d forgotten about their present company.

Motioning impatiently for Jacob to continue, Ben groaned and Golden Eagle rose. “Speak,” two voices commanded in unison.

“Well, we saw fresh horse tracks all around the outside, and inside, well, it were wrecked. Could tell by the splinters on the broken chair it were done recently. Looks as though someone’s been spendin’ time there. Were empty bottles broken all over the place too. Seemed kinda funny someone would be usin’ that place. Not many out here know it’s there. Besides, one strong wind storm’s sure ta bring the rickety old place down.”

Ben threw his hands up in anger. “Why didn’t you say anything to me, either of you?” he roared, startling those nearest to him.

Swallowing nervously, Jacob’s dropped his voice lower as he sheepishly explained, “We, Sam and me, we didn’t figure it important. I plumb forgot ’bout it till now.”

Golden Eagle started pacing. “Could this Willy know of that place?”

Ben frowned, then leaped to his feet in excitement. “Of course! John and Willy’s grandfather Jean helped build that tradin’ post and lived there with Clyde for many years. After John and Willy joined him, Jean built this place. A few years later, Clyde died. It’s been so long since I was out that way I didn’t know that the shack still stood.”

Golden Eagle rose. “Tell us how to get there. We must hurry.”

Ben compressed his lips grimly. “I’ll do better than that. I will lead you there. Jacob, you and Sam come with me. Henry, stay with Mary in case they come this way. Be on your guard.”

Before they left, Mary blocked Golden Eagle’s exit. “Do you love Sarah?”

Taking Mary by the shoulders, Golden Eagle met her teary gaze with a compellingly honest stare. “White Wind is my heart, my soul mate. I love her, and she loves me. Do not fear, old woman. You shall see her again,” he promised.

“Bless you, God go with you.” Tears streamed down Mary’s wrinkled cheeks as she and Henry watched until only clouds of dust remained.

Warm temperatures and buzzing insects woke Willy. With one eye open, he took note of the midafternoon position of the sun. Grabbing his canteen, he held it up and splashed tepid water over his face, shaking the droplets free as he leaned against a huge gray rock peppered with black spots. He pulled a hunk of leftover rabbit that he’d dried over a fire days ago out of his shirt pocket. Working his jaws, he attempted to chew the leather-tough meat. Grimacing as an acrid taste invaded his mouth, he spat the burned meat out and decided to go without.

Next he pulled out his flask, but that too was empty. Throwing the bottle as far as he could, Willy started pacing, kicking stones and twigs. His glance fell to the open doorway of the shack.

He stopped, feet planted apart, arms crossed, as he gave thought to the problem at hand. What to do with his ward and the squaw? Since Sarah was now living and dressing like one of them, keeping her was out of the question.
She’s no better ’n’ her ma in her whorin’ ways,
he thought.

But he still had the problem of getting her money. His lips twitched. If she died, as her only surviving relative, he could legally lay claim to all that had belonged to her.

He stared unseeingly at the wide blue sky. He needed to be rid of the girl without bringing suspicion on himself. His brows drew together as he reviewed and discarded one idea after another.

A picture of her in her Indian garb with her braided hair flashed unwanted before him. “Goddamned squaw. Livin’ and sleepin’ with them heathen savages. You’ll pay for ruinin’ my plans,” Willy swore aloud. A sudden thought occurred to him, and his eyes narrowed to slits as a plan with possibilities began to take form. Willy grinned. “Damn, ol’ boy. You’s done it again. All we gotta do is kill her, let Ben find her body and blame the Injuns. Then the money’s mine,” he gloated aloud. “Even that stupid Lieutenant Smithers will have no choice but ta force Ben ta give me what belongs ta me.” He laughed.

A movement to his left distracted him as Red sauntered through the bush, supplies in hand. Tom lay sleeping on his bedroll, and Hank stood watch over the girls. Harry had left soon after they’d arrived, saying he had no desire to take part in the fun planned for the evening.