Lakota Surrender (40 page)

Hours passed. Afternoon turned to evening, evening to night, and still Neeheeowee sat still, chanting, healing.

It was well after midnight when Neeheeowee knew he had done all that he could. He felt Tahiska’s breathing. Steady, deep, the breath of one who simply slept.

Had his medicine worked? Neeheeowee sat back and surveyed his work. Only time would tell.

Major Bogard approached Kristina’s room, his boots clacking loudly across the wooden floor, the abrupt sound an indication of his mood. He hesitated at her door, but only for a moment. He knocked, then again, a little louder, a little more forceful.

He had returned from the prairie only a few moments ago, racing straight to his daughter’s room, not even bothering to bathe or shave after a few days on the plains. He would have it out with her now.

He didn’t understand it. How could she have deceived him all this time? Yes, he’d been aware that her heart belonged to the young brave, but marriage? Had she lost her mind?

“Who is it?” Kristina called from the other side of the door.

“It’s me, Kristina. May I speak with you?” He heard a scuffling of hurried footsteps before the door swung open. Kristina stood before him with a quiet air of expectancy.

“Hello, Father. Have you just returned? Are the Indians with you?”

“Kristina.” His voice gruff, he briefly touched the brim of his hat. “Yes, I’ve just returned and no, the Indians are not with me. May I come in?”

“Of course,” she said. “Please forgive my rudeness. Come in. Sit down. Is there a reason why you’ve returned alone? Is something wrong?”

Nervously, he strode past her into the room. He paused, then turning suddenly he retraced his steps and stood before her.

“I’ve never seen this before.” Wendall Bogard indicated the rabbit’s foot Kristina wore around her neck.

“Tahiska gave it to me. I…I wear it always.”

“I see.” A coldness set into his gaze and he turned away from her, keeping the sharp retort to himself.

He seated himself. “I think it’s time we discussed your relationship with that young brave.”

Kristina gasped, and the major watched as she composed herself.

“May I ask you a direct question?”

She nodded and sat herself opposite her father.

“Are you married to him?”

Kristina paused barely a moment. “I… I’m not sure.”

“Not sure?” The major regarded her as all color drained from her face. And though he wasn’t certain at first, he gradually became aware that Kristina had been crying.

She shrugged. “I… He may have divorced me. I’m not certain. How did you find out about us?”

“Ah…” The major could feel the flush sweep over him. He rose, pulling at his hair. He started to answer, thought better of it, and began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, until all at once he stopped, turning to face Kristina.

“Why? Why did you marry him?”

She barely looked him in the eye. “Because I love him and he loves me. I didn’t know at first, Father. And then I wouldn’t acknowledge it and now…now I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s left me.”

The major dropped back into his chair. What could he do? What could he say? He longed to yell at her, or better yet, take a stick to her, but he did neither. He sighed deeply instead. “I have some bad news for you, Kristina.”

“No,” she said. Then, as though she knew already, she asked shakily, “He isn’t dead, is he?”

“Almost.”

Kristina didn’t speak at first, and watching her, seeing the strength of commitment in her composure, Major Bogard was left with no doubt that his daughter loved this Indian well. Finally, she ventured, “What do you mean almost?”

“He is wounded. He suffered an injury to the head attempting to save my life. He battles for his life.”

“No!”

“I’m sorry.”

Suddenly she rose. “I must see him, Father. Take me to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” She said it with such determined purpose that the major knew that indeed, he could. “He is my husband,” she continued. “If you won’t take me to him, I’ll go out on my own and search for him.”

“You love him that much?”

“I love him that much.”

Damn!

Wendall Bogard watched her and knew that short of tying her up in her room, there was little he could do. He’d be better off escorting her.

“All right,” he said at length. “Your mother will hate me, but I see no other alternative. We’ll leave as soon as I have a bath and a shave. Why don’t you gather up supplies for a few days and prepare the horses?”

Kristina nodded and left so quickly that when the major arrived at the livery two hours later, he found Kristina was ready and waiting.

She glanced at him. “Did you tell mother about me?”

He shook his head.

“Do you intend to?”

The major paused. He looked at his daughter, then at the open land awaiting them outside. Finally, he glanced back at Kristina. “Nope,” was all he said at first, then, “if that young buck had come back for you, were you planning to leave with him?”

Kristina looked away from him, though she nodded her head in reply.

“And were you going to tell your mother and me?”

“I… No. Not until the last moment.”

“I see.” The major mounted his horse, but before he rode away, he turned to Kristina. “You’re old enough now to know your own mind, and if it’s the young Indian you’ll be wanting, I won’t stand in your way. I’ll try to control your mother.”

Kristina placed her hand on his arm, murmuring, “Thank you, Father. I will be indebted to you.”

He nodded and watched Kristina’s mouth curve into a smile before she kicked her mount into motion. Looking at her, he wondered at the wisdom of his own actions.

Chapter Nineteen

Kristina scanned the deserted campsite from her position on her mount. It was obvious someone had been here and had left in a hurry. These signs of impulsiveness were not typical for the Indian, who rarely left a trace of his presence.

What had happened? She dismounted and, keeping the reins in hand, wandered through the camp. Why had they abandoned this campsite in such haste?

Was Tahiska still alive? It was a question she’d dared not ask, yet her mind wouldn’t let her forget.

If he weren’t alive, wouldn’t there be a scaffold nearby? Would there have been a need to rush his body home?

“Kristina.”

She spun around, her gaze catching that of her father’s.

He still sat atop his mount. “I think they’ve gone home,” he stated, his tone quiet.

She didn’t answer; she didn’t ask his opinion. She was afraid to voice any concerns, fearful of the answer.

At length, she brought her gaze back to the campsite, scrutinizing each sign left here. She bit her lip, then asked, finally, “How was he when you last saw him?”

The major fidgeted from side to side in the saddle, his reluctance to say anything obvious. But Kristina wouldn’t be put off
.
He’d been the last one to see Tahiska, and she meant to know as much as she could about his condition.

“He was still alive?” she baited him.

“He was alive…just barely.”

“Do you think he is alive now?”

“Kristina!”

“Do you?”

The major tore his hat from his head, slapping it on his thigh. He swung his gaze around the campsite.

“Father, I…”

“I don’t know, Kristina. He was in bad shape. The injury was to his head, and the whole time I was here, he never regained consciousness.”

“Where was it?”

“What? Where was what?”

Kristina expelled her breath slowly. “The injury, Father. Show me where he was struck.”

The major pointed to his forehead, the left side. “Here. I was never able to stop the bleeding. Kristina, honey, I don’t hold much hope for him.”

“When did this all happen?”

“All what?”

Again Kristina glanced at her father in irritation. “The injury. The fight. When did it all happen?”

“It’s been almost a week now.”

Kristina turned away, her complexion almost white. A week ago. That had been when she’d experienced the strange headache that wouldn’t go away—a headache to the left side of her head. Two days ago, it had abated.

Coincidence? Or was she somehow attuned to Tahiska’s body, sympathetically mimicking his condition?

She felt nothing now. What did it mean? Was he well or was he…?

Kristina spun around and, turning to her pony, she mounted. She glanced at her father. “Let’s return to the fort.”

“Kristina, I…”

“There’s nothing here. If he is still alive, he will return for me. I will have to wait for him to seek me out.”

“Wait,” Major Bogard implored. “Let’s stay here a moment. I need to talk to you.”

Just when she would have kicked her horse into motion, she pulled back. She gazed at her father. “Why?”

He sighed, shifting in his saddle. Finally, he dismounted, leading his horse and hers to a tree, and there he tethered them. He helped Kristina dismount and, leading her to a nearby log, he motioned for her to sit. Smiling at her, he announced, “We need to rest and have a bite to eat before we start back anyway, and I think there are some things I had best tell you, or rather warn you of.”

Kristina didn’t answer. She merely gazed expectantly at him.

He sighed. “Let me start a fire.”

“There’s no need,” she said, staying him with her hand. “I have plenty of
wasna
and jerky. It will get us through the afternoon.”

The major turned to her and took a seat beside her on the log, accepting the jerky from her. “Thank you,” he said, biting it and collecting his thoughts as he chewed. Finally, he inquired, “Have you spoken to your mother recently?”

Kristina shook her head.

“She spoke to me a few weeks ago, just after the ball.” He paused. “She has asked me to arrange for the two of you to return to Boston,” he continued. “Are you aware of this?”

Again, Kristina replied in the negative.

“You should know, Kristina, that your mother is aware of your fascination. She is planning to take you away from here with or without my help. She blames me, she blames the fort, she can see nothing but evil in the Indian. If your young brave is still alive, and you plan to leave with him, you had best sneak away and never return.”

Kristina, dumbfounded at her father’s words, took a moment to answer. “I understand,” she said at last.

Her father nodded and, with this said, he rose. Tramping toward the horses, he stopped to glance back at his daughter. “Let’s leave now.”

Kristina nodded her assent and, despite her upset, she managed to smile. “I appreciate your advice. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

Even filled with his own misgivings, the major grinned back.

“I think we should just return home.” Neeheeowee spoke in Cheyenne.

“I can’t leave without her.”

“Then take her. She is yours. Why do you go to all this trouble to persuade her?”

Wahtapah sighed. “We’ve been through all of this before.”

Tahiska grinned at his friends. They had stopped at the summit of a high bluff, all three Indians taking the time to admire the beauty. They were up so high that the prairie appeared to roll and stretch all around them. Birds flew overhead in the breeze, enjoying the warmth of an Indian summer.

Tahiska raised his face toward the sun to bask in its glow and to thank Wakan Tanka for giving life back to him.

He pressed a hand to his head, where a poultice still protected the wound. Tahiska wasn’t sure just what had occurred, only that he had awakened to find both Wahtapah and Neeheeowee leaning over him, watching him intently. From that time forward, though, Tahiska had recovered swiftly and within only a few days had been able to travel. There was only one other thing he had to do before he returned to his home.

“The white man didn’t understand the intentions of our cousin,” Wahtapah was explaining to Neeheeowee as though talking to a child. “He didn’t know the meaning of the gifts, nor has he approved of this union.”

“This time there will be no mistake,” Tahiska finished for him.

“But you’ve only just recovered,” Neeheeowee advised.

“You sound like an old woman, friend.” Tahiska laughed. “I’m fine. And you have found your powers. Besides, would you have me give you nothing for your efforts?”

“I would accept any gift you choose to give me, even the gift of returning home.” Neeheeowee smiled.

All three laughed.

“We will return home soon, but first…”

“I know,” Neeheeowee interrupted, glancing off into the distance. “We should find a camp of Pawnee at any time now, since this is their season to make meat. There we will find your bride price—their horses. And we will take them in an honorable way.”