White Owl (19 page)

It was such a twisted story of how one wrong created another wrong, and as White Owl had just reminded her, it had been going on since the beginning of time. She rested her head against her
husband’s firm chest. At least he had not participated in the battle. She would not allow herself to think about what a drastic difference that would have made to their lives.

It rained steadily for two days and nights. Vermillion Creek was almost full again, and new gullies had appeared everywhere where only little ditches had been previously. The mud that clung to the sandstone rocks and overtook the sparse vegetation in the meadow was like clay and made walking any distance nearly impossible, because it would stick to their boots and suck their feet down into its murky depths. It was not until the sun had shined for two full days that White Owl decided it was suitable to travel.

As Rose left the cave for the last time, she turned to look at the cozy alcove that had been their shelter, their love nest, and their first home as man and wife. She tried not to be sad . . . Someday, she knew they would come back here. Until then, she would remember every second that they had lived and loved in this hidden cave among the sandstone cliffs and sacred pictures of the people who had inhabited this special place before them. The magical memories they had created here would remain in their hearts forever.

The trip home seemed to go much faster than when they had traveled to Vermillion Basin more than two months ago. Rose thought this was backward, because she had been so eager to start their wedding trip, and now she was dreading the situation they would find when they got home.

White Owl had told her that his tribe usually traveled south for the winter months, so once she made sure her family was safe and dealt with their wrath, she knew they would be traveling again to the winter location. White Owl told her the winter camp was close to the home of Chief Ouray. Rose had heard stories and read articles in the newspapers about the great Ute chief and his wife, Chipeta, when she had still been living in Denver. They were both exceptionally educated in the ways of the whites and were great advocates of making peace between their people and the white men. She remembered reading that Chief Ouray was considered to be the “the White Man’s Friend.” How did he feel about the events that had transpired at the White River Agency? she wondered.

Lost in her worries about what they might encounter
once they reached the Ute village, Rose finally became aware that White Owl was leading them through dense trees and avoiding as many open areas as possible. Her anxiety increased.

“White Owl,” she called out as she pushed Molly forward to catch up to Niwaa. “Why are we going this way? Isn’t there a shorter route to the village?”

He glanced around nervously before turning his attention to her. “There has recently been a battle in this area. Soldiers will be hunting for all Utes. We should not make too much noise.”

Rose drew in an uneasy breath. “But it was Agent Meeker’s fault. He wanted to plow up your racetrack.” An unfamiliar sound made her jump, but it was nothing more than a chipmunk scurrying up a tree trunk. “Why would they be hunting for us? We weren’t even here.”

“They won’t be hunting you. But it will not matter where I was. I am Ute, and that is all they will care about.”

“What are you saying?” Rose demanded as she pushed Molly to keep up with Niwaa. “I will tell them that we were far away and—”

“You are not listening,” White Owl cut in. He pulled on his reins and stopped Niwaa, and then reached out and grabbed Molly’s reins to halt her, too. “You are white, so you don’t know what it is like to be hunted down like you are a wild animal, to have your people slaughtered before your eyes, your home burned to the ground, and to live with the daily fear that eventually there will be nothing left to even prove that you ever existed.” His tone
had grown angry, and his jaw squared as he dropped Molly’s reins. “Maybe your father is right.” He kicked Niwaa in the sides, and the horse lunged forward.

His harsh words echoed through Rose’s mind and made her stomach feel like a boulder had just settled in it. “White Owl, wait,” she called as she sent Molly galloping to catch up with him. He did not stop, even as she rode up beside him again.

“What do you mean—my father is right?” she said. She held her breath as she waited for his reply.

He rode for a couple moments before he spoke again. “Our people are enemies, Wild Rose. We don’t belong together.” His voice sounded strained as he tried to appear unemotional.

Rose’s eyes blurred and her head begin to pound. She pulled on Molly’s reins and stopped as White Owl rode ahead. “No,” she choked out. “You don’t mean that.” He kept riding, getting farther away. Rose couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t move; she couldn’t go on living without him.

White Owl stopped Niwaa several hundred yards ahead. He sat straight in the saddle without turning around for what seemed like forever to Rose. The silent tears that fell from her blurry eyes left trails down her dusty cheeks and landed unnoticed on the bosom of her plaid shirt. When he dismounted and began to walk toward her, Rose was certain her heart was about to be ripped from her breast, and she would be left with nothing but a gaping hole in her chest. His dark features
were set in an expression she had never seen on his face before, and she couldn’t help wondering whether she was gazing upon him for the last time.

When he stopped beside her horse, he did not meet her teary gaze. He avoided her eyes as he reached up and pulled her from Molly’s back, but before Rose had a chance to react he hugged her against him so tightly that she was sure he would break her ribs.

“I am sorry,” he whispered into her ear. “I am so sorry,” he repeated.

It took Rose a moment to realize what he was saying, because she had been so prepared for him to be saying good-bye. Her arms rose so that she could comb her fingers through his long hair; this was her reassurance that she wasn’t dreaming.

“Forgive me,” he added. He released his crushing hold on her and pulled back slightly so that he could look into her eyes. “What I said, it’s true, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t live without you.” White Owl’s fingers pressed against her lips when she opened her mouth to speak.

“No, I was being foolish.” His fingers moved from her mouth to her cheek. His trembling hand tenderly rested against the side of her face. “I am supposed to be a fierce warrior, but I am afraid, Wild Rose, so afraid of losing you, and it makes me say and do stupid things. I can’t help but worry that your life will be miserable with me.”

“It won’t!” Rose cried. She felt the quivering in his hand and reached up to place her hand over his. “Never,” she said firmly.

“When we return to the village, everything will be different. You have seen my people only when they are at peace, but now we are at war with your people. Some will be hostile toward you, and I will not tolerate that. And your father—”

Rose shook her head vigorously. She remembered Two Feathers’ coldness and wondered if the rest of the family would feel the same way about her now. “No, you cannot fight with your own people because of me.” She didn’t respond to his mention of her father, because the thought was too terrifying.

White Owl sighed. “We can’t let our families tear us apart.”

“We won’t,” Rose said strongly. She rose on her toes and kissed his frowning mouth. He instantly returned her kiss. It did not seem possible to her that anyone could tear them apart, no matter how hard they might try. Their love was too strong. Nothing and no one could come between them.

“I will take you to your parents’ home so that you can make sure they are safe,” White Owl announced as they drew nearer to Milk Creek. The sun was hanging low in the western sky, and since the days were getting shorter with the approaching winter, it would be dark soon. “I will go to the village while you are there and come back to get you in the morning.”

Rose felt a rush of panic. “No, I don’t want to be away from you tonight. I’ll come to the village with you and then to my parents’ in the morning.”

White Owl smiled. “I didn’t want to sleep alone
tonight either.” He tossed his long hair over his shoulder and motioned for her to follow him.

Rose let Molly fall in behind Niwaa without another comment. They could deal with her family tomorrow. Tonight they would face his family. But if they were together, she was sure they could handle anything.

The village had been moved farther south after the battle, so it was late at night when they finally reached their destination. A Ute scout who had been standing watch a couple of miles from the village directed them to the new location. Rose could feel the tension in the air the moment they dismounted from their horses.

Although it was a cold autumn night, there were only a few fires among the scattering of tepees, and the village was about a fourth of the size that it had been when Rose and White Owl had left for their wedding trip.

As they walked through the village, they were observed with quiet curiosity. A couple of the men called out a greeting to White Owl, but no one even looked in Rose’s direction. The quiet, dark village had an eerie feel, and Rose was glad when they reached the tepee of White Owl’s parents.

Strong Elk was sitting in front of a cold fire pit. A colorful woven blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. He looked up as the couple approached, and in the semidarkness Rose could see him grin.

“My oldest son has returned,” he called as he jumped to his feet and tossed the blanket to the
ground. He stepped forward and the two men embraced. “It is good to see you, my son,” Strong Elk said as he backed away from his son. He looked at Rose and added, “Has my son treated you well?”

“Yes, he has,” she answered. She stepped up and stood beside her husband as she once again marveled at the kindness and understanding of his family. She couldn’t imagine her father and brothers would be so generous tomorrow. As this thought passed through her mind, Two Feathers walked up to the fire pit. His attitude had obviously not changed toward her. She could feel his hateful glare on her the instant he looked at her. She looped her arm through White Owl’s for comfort.

“You are here at last. I thought you might have turned your back on your people altogether.” Two Feathers’ voice was filled with venom.

White Owl did not flinch at his brother’s insinuation. “Good to see you, too,” he retorted. He turned toward his father again. “We will stay here tonight and then go to Wild Rose’s family in the morning.”

“You must be careful. The leaders in Washington are threatening to make us leave our homelands. It is said that they will shoot any Ute who does not go to the reservation in Utah. They are very angry about the agency.”

Rose felt White Owl stiffen beside her. He asked the question that was weighing heavily on her mind. “Where are the captives—the women and the children?”

“They were taken to Chief Ouray’s house a few
days ago, but they have been returned to their own people now,” Strong Elk replied. “They are all safe. Still, the chiefs in Washington want to punish all our people because of the killings at the agency and of Major Thornburg and his men at Milk Creek.”

Rose’s blood felt as though it had turned to ice in her veins. Milk Creek was much too close to her parents’ ranch. She clutched White Owl’s arm for support, and he placed his hand over hers.

“What happened at Milk Creek?” White Owl asked. His brother had forgotten to mention that incident when he had visited them at Vermillion Basin.

Strong Elk motioned for them to sit with him on the ground. “Two Feathers, make us a fire,” he ordered.

Rose looked at the other warrior out of the side of her eye, trying to glimpse his reaction to being ordered around by his father. Much to her surprise, he did not argue and stalked to a pile of wood outside of the tepee and did as he was told. The expression on his face, however, was filled with fury.

“After the warriors killed Meeker and the others at the agency, soldiers came from the north,” Strong Elk began once they were all seated on the ground. “We killed their leader, Major Thornburg, and many more soldiers at Milk Creek. The soldiers were stupid and didn’t know how to fight. They tried to hide in the field where we could see them and pick them off one by one.”

“You took part in the battles?” White Owl asked tentatively.

“I did not go to the agency—only the younger ones fought there. But I fought at Milk Creek beside my brothers.”

When Strong Elk finally finished telling them the entire story, Rose felt as if she was going to pass out. Nine men had been killed in the carnage at the White River Agency, and all of the buildings had been burned to the ground. The women and children had been in captivity for twenty-three days before they had been released. Major Thornburg’s battalion of soldiers, who had been coming from Wyoming to help alleviate the situation at the agency, had lost fourteen men, and numerous others had been wounded. Several warriors had been killed or injured. White Owl was right . . . everything was different now.

“My brother should have been here to fight,” Two Feathers spat. His attention was focused directly on Rose.