Feather in the Wind (20 page)

She was pacing the tent, her concern for Black Wind’s safety growing by the second, when O’Neill entered the tent.

“Where is he?” she asked. “Where’s Black Wind?”

“He escaped.”

“And the others?”

“Two are dead. We have one in custody. The other one got away, but we’ll get him.”

Susannah closed her eyes as relief washed over her. Thank God, Black Wind was safe. “What happens now?”

“We’ll be leaving for the fort in the morning.” O’Neill stared at her, his eyes filled with disdain. “You may consider yourself under arrest for treason.”

“Treason!”

“Consorting with the enemy. Spying.” O’Neill nodded, his expression smug. “We are at war, Miss Kingston. I shouldn’t like to be in your shoes.”

“I’m not a spy!”

“I think you are. Captain McCarin told me you stayed with the Indians when you had a chance to return to your own people. I warn you, don’t try to escape. Spies are shot.”

Shot! Susannah blinked at him, her arms folding protectively over her abdomen. Shot… Before she could collect her thoughts enough to speak, the colonel was gone.

She sat down in one of the chairs, afraid her legs would no longer support her. They thought she was a spy. It was incredible, would have been laughable, if she weren’t so frightened, not only for herself, but for the future of her unborn child.

Surely Black Wind wouldn’t let them take her back to the fort, and yet what could he do? He was outnumbered fifty to one.

Thoroughly discouraged, she folded her arms on the table, put her head down and cried.

* * * * *

The Army broke camp first thing the following morning. There was no doubt in Susannah’s mind that she was a prisoner, as much as the wounded warrior who rode beside her, even though her hands weren’t tied behind her back, as his were. Tonkalla had been shot in the shoulder. A bloody bandage was wrapped over the wound. A soldier led his mount.

The men who had gone after Black Wind the day before had returned empty-handed. Black Wind, at least, had gotten away unscathed.

Susannah slid a glance at the soldiers riding beside her. They were looking straight ahead, but she was aware of their scorn, their derision. They thought she was an Indian lover, a spy. She had no doubt they would shoot her down without a qualm if she tried to escape.

As the day wore on, she found herself searching the countryside, looking for Black Wind. She couldn’t believe that he would go off and leave her, yet there was no place for him to hide, no way he could follow her without being seen.

As the miles went by, she became more and more convinced that he had gone back to the village.

It was near dusk when the Army made camp for the night. They would reach the fort tomorrow. And then what, Susannah wondered as she watched the men set up the colonel’s tent. Would she get a trial, or would they just lock her up in the guardhouse and throw away the key?

She thought of the small iron-barred cell where Black Wind had been held prisoner and tried to imagine herself living there for the rest of her life.

It was full dark by the time the soldiers had set up camp. One of the men handed her a tin plate of bacon and beans and a cup of coffee.

Susannah stared at the greasy mess and thought she might throw up. The coffee was hot and black and bitter.

She put the plate and the cup aside and wished, futilely and fleetingly, for a cup of hot chocolate smothered in whipped crème.

One of the soldiers, an older man with a slight paunch and graying hair, escorted her into the shadows so she could relieve herself. Susannah thought she would die of embarrassment as she squatted in the bushes, knowing an armed man stood only a few feet away.

When they returned to the campfire, she wrapped herself in the blanket that had been given to her, lay down and closed her eyes.

She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep. She could hear the men talking softly, the crackle of the flames, snores coming from the men who had turned in for the night, horses stamping their feet, the howl of a coyote. Whoever had written praises to the quiet of the prairie night had obviously never slept under the stars with fifty snoring men, fifty restless horses and a lonely coyote!

She was drifting in that nether world between wakefulness and sleep when a hand dropped over her mouth. She came awake instantly, her heart in her throat.

“Su-san-nah, it’s me.”

She turned her head and saw Black Wind lying belly down on the ground beside her. His face and chest were smeared with dirt so that he seemed to be a part of the earth itself.

“Follow me,” he said.

Susannah glanced over her shoulder. All the men were sleeping. The two men standing guard were standing at the far end of the camp, sharing a cigarette. She could see the tip glow as one of the men inhaled.

Moving as silently as she could, she crawled after Black Wind, certain that, at any moment, one of the sentries would shout for her to stop.

She followed Black Wind for what seemed like miles, scraping her elbows and knees on the ground, certain every living creature within a hundred miles could hear her moving through the thick yellow grass, could hear the beat of her heart, echoing like thunder in her ears.

Just when she thought they were going to crawl through the night forever, Black Wind slipped over the edge of a depression in the ground. When he reached the bottom, he stood up. Turning, he helped Susannah to her feet, then lifted her onto the back of his horse, which was tethered to a clump of sagebrush.

Untying the reins, he handed them to Susannah, then vaulted up behind her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, fine. Hurry, let’s get out of here.”

“I do not like to leave Tonkalla behind,” Tate Sapa said quietly.

“Maybe you should go back and get him.”

Slowly, Tate Sapa shook his head. The soldiers had let Susannah bed down apart from the others so she could have a little privacy, but they had shackled Tonkalla to the supply wagon. There was no way to get to his old friend without being seen, no way to remove the iron cuffs.

And then there was no time for thought.

Susannah glanced over her shoulder as the sound of hoofbeats filled the silence of the night.

She heard Black Wind mutter something in Lakota, and then they were riding through the darkness.

Susannah couldn’t help thinking that, if he’d been alone, Black Wind would have been able to outrun his pursuers easily. As it was, with his horse carrying double, she knew it was only a matter of time before the Army overtook them.

Black Wind urged his horse faster, increasing their lead. When they reached a rocky outcropping surrounded by a tangled mass of brush, he reined the horse to a halt. Dismounting, he pulled Susannah from the back of the horse. Lifting his rifle, he smacked the horse across the rump with the rifle butt; then, grabbing Susannah by the hand, he headed for the cover of the rocks.

She was breathless by the time they took shelter behind a large boulder. Frightened, hardly able to draw breath, she crouched beside Black Wind, waiting to hear the shout that would mean their hiding place had been discovered.

She could feel the tension radiating off Black Wind like summer heat off city streets as he peered over the top of the boulder, and then, miraculously, she felt him relax. Moments later, he sat down beside her, the rifle within easy reach.

“Are they gone?” she asked anxiously.

“For now. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. What are we going to do?”

“I am going to take you to Micklin.”

Susannah knew a moment of relief at the thought of seeing Hester and Abe again. And then she frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I must go back and warn my people.”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, Su-san-nah.”

“Why not?” She turned to face him, but, in the darkness, all she could see was his profile, sharp and clean.

“This is what the young men have been waiting for. They have been eager for war. Nothing will stop them now. I want you to stay with Hester, where you and our child will be safe.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Do not argue with me, Su-san-nah. You do not know what it will be like when the fighting starts. Our people cannot hope to win. The
wasichu
have more warriors than the Lakota, more weapons, more of everything. I have seen war before, Su-san-nah. I will not put you at risk.”

“No, Black Wind. Either we both go back to the village, or we both go to the Micklins. I won’t let you send me away. We have to stay together.”

He lifted a hand to the eagle feather in his hair, felt a faint warmth on his fingertips as he untied the thong that held it in place. “Take this, Su-san-nah. Perhaps it will see you safely home.”

She shook her head, refusing to take the feather. “No, my place is here, with you.”

His gaze rested on her face, and then he nodded. “Perhaps you are right.”

“I know I am.”

He tied the feather into his hair again, then stood up, peering into the darkness, his head cocked to one side as he listened to the sounds of the night. All was quiet.

“Come,” he said, taking Susannah by the hand and lifting her to her feet.

They walked all that night and then, just as dawn was brightening the horizon, they took refuge in a small thicket not far from a shallow stream.

“How much farther is it to the Micklins?” Susannah asked.

“Many hours. We will rest here today, and continue our journey tonight, when it is cool and there is less chance of discovery.”

He ran his hand over the ground, brushing away bits of leaves and debris. Sitting down, he drew Susannah into his lap and kissed her cheek. “Are you well,
wastelakapi
?”

Susannah nodded. “Just tired.”

“Sleep, Su-san-nah.”

“What about you?”

“I will keep watch.”

“You need to rest.”

“I will.” He drew her head down to his shoulder, then began to massage her back. “Sleep, Su-san-nah.”

Cradled in his arms, she closed her eyes, the gentle touch of his hands stroking her back lulling her to sleep.

* * * * *

It was dark when Susannah woke. She felt a rush of panic when she realized she was alone in the thicket. Scrambling to her feet, she looked around.

“Black Wind? Black Wind, where are you?”

“Here, Su-san-nah.”

She whirled around to see him enter the thicket, his rifle in one hand, his shirt in the other. He propped his rifle against a tree, then sat down and spread his shirt, revealing a half dozen prairie turnips, wild onions and something that looked like lettuce.

“Looks healthy,” Susannah remarked as she sat down across from Black Wind.

He shrugged. “I would prefer meat, but I dare not use the rifle.” Drawing his knife, he quickly peeled a turnip and handed it to Susannah.

She had never been overly fond of raw vegetables, but she was too hungry to be picky. After they’d eaten, they walked to the stream. Susannah drank her fill, then sluiced water over her face and arms, glad that it was summer and not winter.

“Ready?” Black Wind asked as stood up.

“Yes.” She smiled at him as he reached for her hand.

Tate Sapa returned her smile, proud of her courage, of the fact that she never complained, humbled by her trust in him, in his ability to protect her, to get them to safety.

“Nice night for a walk,” Susannah remarked as they set out across the plains. “Reminds me of
An American Werewolf in London
.”

“What is Lon-don?”

“It’s a big city.”

“They have wolves there?”

“Not really.
An American Werewolf in London
is the name of a movie.” Susannah frowned, wondering how to explain moving pictures. “Movies are pictures that…” She shrugged. “That move.”

“Pictures that move? How is this possible?”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know exactly how they work, but I bet you’d love them. I do. Back home, I used to go to the show at least once a week. More, if I could.”

He frowned, confused by her words. “What do these pictures that move show?”

“Different things. Some movies are comedies, you know, stories that make you laugh.”

“Like
Iktomi
?”

“Well, sort of. Other movies are mysteries, you know, someone commits a crime and you try to figure out who did it. And then there’s science fiction…stories about things that haven’t happened yet, like
Star Wars
.”

“
Star Wars?
” Tate Sapa glanced up. “The white man has wars, even up there?”

“Well, in science fiction they do. There are lots of movies about what life on other planets might be like.”

Tate Sapa frowned. “You believe there is life on the stars?”

“I don’t know, but some people do. There are Western movies too, with cowboys and Indians.”