Together they would head to Fort Keogh on the American side of the border. It was the largest fort in the area. If Black Horse was still alive, Walks Tall was sure he would be held prisoner there. The constant thoughts of his friend being tortured and humiliated by the
wasichu
made his insides twist like knots. He knew how much Black Horse hated the soldiers, and he believed the chief would rather die than be at their mercy.
Another devastating thought passed through Walks Tall’s mind, and a numbing sensation whipped through his body. If Black Horse was dead, Walks Tall knew what he must do next. He would have to fulfill his friend’s last wish. It would be up to him to go after Meadow and save her from the Blackfoot, and seek revenge against the men who took her. It would also be his responsibility to Black Horse as his blood brother to look after her and see to it that she would not have to spend the rest of her life alone.
Meadow lay as quiet as possible while she waited for the right moment to make her escape. For the past couple of days, she had been playing a dangerous charade. The first day they had arrived in the Blackfoot village, she had been incredibly ill. She remembered nothing more than being in terrible pain, and running a fever that kept her drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the day and into the night. As she had slowly regained consciousness, she had been careful not to let anyone else know that she was aware of her surroundings.
An older Blackfoot woman called Bear Woman had been tending to her injuries, and the knowledgeable manner in which she had banded Meadow’s broken ribs kept the pain to a minimum. Since the Blackfoot language was similar to Sioux, Meadow had understood enough of what the woman said to know that her fever was probably the result of one of her broken ribs poking something inside of her.
She had heard the old woman telling the warrior who had kidnapped her that she might not survive if she didn’t regain consciousness soon. Even in her groggy state, Meadow realized that as long as her captor believed her to be near death, she was safe from him. Pretending to be unconscious had not only al
lowed her more time to heal inside, it had also given her time to form a plan.
She knew her chances of escape were slim, especially since she would have to be extremely careful not to cause more harm to herself. Because of the extent of her injuries, she knew there would be no room for error in her plan to get away from here. She also knew that she would have to make her escape soon. She could not pretend to be unconscious too much longer. The old woman was wise, and this morning she had leaned over Meadow and mumbled, “Your fever is gone, white eyes. What makes you sleep so long? Are you trying to trick me?”
There were a few times when Bear Woman left her alone, and when she did leave the tepee, the warrior who had done this to her usually came and sat by her side. Sometimes he seemed truly sorry for injuring her, yet at other times he seemed to be filled with so much anger and pain. Even though he believed her to be unconscious, he came and sat beside her and spoke to her as if they were old friends.
But his words made no sense. He talked of how he had to have revenge for the terrible things that were done to someone called Shy Deer. It was the only way he could save face among his people. He told Meadow that she could not die, because then his revenge would never be complete. His anguish was evident in his voice when he talked about Shy Deer. Meadow guessed that she was his wife, but she was puzzled as to why he felt she no longer loved him.
Then, once, his tone had changed drastically as he spat, “But now Black Horse will suffer, just as he made me suffer.”
The venom in his voice—and the mention of Black Horse—had startled Meadow so much that she had almost forgotten that she was supposed to be unconscious. She wanted to demand that he tell her what he was talking about, but she forced herself to remain silent and unmoving.
Strong Tree jumped to his feet when the flap of the tepee was pushed aside and Bear Woman said something to him about Mounties being in the village.
Meadow held her breath as she listened to the commotion she could hear outside of the tepee—and, mostly, as she waited to see what Bear Woman was going to do. If she left with Strong Tree, Meadow knew this was the moment she had been waiting for. As much as she hated the Mounties for what had happened at her wedding, she was more than a little grateful for their presence now.
When the flap of the tepee dropped down again, Meadow took a deep breath. Bear Woman did not come back inside. Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced at the doorway. For several more minutes, she did nothing but stare at the flap. When no one entered, Meadow knew she must make her move before any more time passed. She clutched one arm around her ribs, and with her other arm she gently pushed herself up to a sitting position. Her head spun, and for a moment she felt as if she was going to be sick. She swallowed hard and refused to give into the urge to lie back down.
When her head finally stopped spinning, the nausea also passed. Her ribs throbbed, but the pain was bearable. She gritted her teeth and began to push herself up to a standing position. Her legs were as weak as
those of a baby who was just learning to walk, and her knees felt as if they were going to buckle under with any weight. She wove back and forth several times until a bit of her strength began to seep back into her limbs.
The old woman had not undressed her, and her moccasins were standing next to the furs that had served as her bed for the past few days. Lifting her legs up one at a time was pure torture as she slipped her feet into her moccasins. By the time she had accomplished this small task, her face was beaded with sweat.
Outside, the village had grown unnaturally quiet. Meadow took her first agonizing step toward the doorway. Her ribs, though tightly bound, almost seemed to jiggle like mush inside of her with each of her slow movements. A painful moan escaped from her when she bent down to peer through the flap of the door. The area seemed almost deserted; the Mounties’ arrival was obviously drawing everyone to the center of the village. She wondered if they had come here to issue the same warning to the Blackfoot about keeping peace in Canada that they had given to the Sioux a few days ago. That day—the day that she should have become Black Horse’s wife—seemed as if it had been years ago.
How peculiar, she thought, that she should be in both villages during the Mounties’ visits.
The sound of voices made panic wash through Meadow’s pain-racked body. She dropped the flap shut again and waited until the pounding in her breast calmed enough for her to take another deep breath. She listened to the distant voices but could not make out what they were saying. All that mattered was that
she had only a few minutes to escape, and her fear was causing her to waste them.
Trying to control the panic that threatened to overpower her, Meadow gritted her teeth against the pain and stepped out into the open. She shivered as a feeling of complete defenselessness claimed her. If anyone walked out from any of the tepees right now, she would be caught. This thought snapped her out of her frozen state of panic.
Each step she took was filled with agony, but her strength increased with the hope that she was actually escaping. Guessing that the Blackfoot village was laid out in a similar manner to those of the Sioux, Meadow moved in the direction that she believed would take her to where the horses were corralled. She did not look back as she reached the edge of the encampment. A building excitement made her pain dull when she saw a group of horses tied to the trees. In her rush, she did not realize that they were not Indian ponies, nor did she see the man who was standing guard over the horses until she was standing only a few feet away from him.
Meadow’s startled gasp was almost simultaneous with the man’s surprised grunt. For a moment Meadow considered trying to run into the forest, but she knew that would be foolish. She was in too much pain to run anywhere, and without a horse she would never be able to make it back to the Sioux village.
The Mountie stared at her in confusion, until he finally spoke. “My Lord! You—You’re—You—” Brandon’s shock caused him to stutter as he attempted to speak. “You’re th-the girl from the Sioux village!” He dropped
his rifle on the ground and rushed to her side. A million thoughts spun through his head, but his shock over seeing the same girl he’d seen just a few days ago at Sitting Bull’s village left him even more confused.
“What in the Lord’s name has happened to you?” Brandon asked as he reached out toward her. When he noticed that she flinched and looked terrified, he immediately pulled his hand back. Her appearance was drastically different today than it had been the first time he had seen her. Then, dressed in her wedding finery, she had looked beautiful and healthy. Now, with her hair so dirty and tangled and her dress even more filthy, it was apparent that she had been through hell since he had last seen her.
Brandon’s gaze lowered to where she was clutching her ribs. “You’re hurt,” he said as he glanced in the direction of the village. He thought about going to find Superintendent Walsh, but then remembered that he had been ordered to stay with the horses today because of his outburst at the Sioux village the other day.
Glancing back at the pitiful-looking girl, Brandon decided that his first concern should be caring for her. Slowly, he extended his hand again. “Please let me help you,” he asked. To his relief, she did not back away from him again.
“Can you ride?” he asked. His concern was evident as he leaned down to peer into her face. Her green gaze met with his briefly, then she glanced away. He noticed how pale she looked, and the way her blonde hair was matted against her head. She had obviously been badly mistreated in the past few days, but how did she end up here? A sense of rage erupted in Brandon, along with the overpowering urge to protect this
girl from all harm, as he realized that the Blackfoot must have kidnapped her from the Sioux village.
As much as she hated to take their help, Meadow knew that these Mounties were her only chance to escape from the Blackfoot—and even then, it was a slim chance. She reluctantly accepted the soldier’s assistance when he put his arm around her waist for support. She leaned against him and drew in a relieved but painful breath.
Desperately, she tried to recall the words she vaguely remembered from the white man’s language, so she could tell him what had happened to her and how important it was for him to take her back to her own village. But it had been so long since she had spoken in her native tongue that she could not make her mouth form the words. She could, however, still understand most of the white man’s tongue. Many of the Sioux had learned to speak and understand the white man’s language so that they were not left entirely in the dark when they dealt with their enemies. White Buffalo could speak fluent English, and he had not attempted to force Meadow to forget her own language. However, it was a rare occasion when they would converse in the white man’s words.
When Meadow made no further attempt to answer the Mountie, she noticed him glancing toward the camp again. She began to shake her head vehemently. Her frantic mind fought to remember the words she wanted to say. She shook her head again and pointed toward the village. “
Wo winihan
”—I’m afraid—she said in the Indian language.
A confused expression claimed the lieutenant’s face.
He tilted his head to the side as he looked down at the girl. “Can’t you speak English?”
She shook her head again, then pointed toward the horses. After she pointed toward the horses again, she patted herself on the chest.
The Mountie’s gaze followed her gestures as he glanced at the horses, then back to Meadow. “First, tell me how you ended up here,” he said. “You were about to marry that Sioux war chief when I interrupted the ceremony.”
His words cut Meadow to her core. She stared at the man, remembering now that she had seen this same man just as she was being led away from the fire after her wedding had been interrupted. Her entire body felt as if she had just turned to stone. How could she ask this man for help now?
“Can you understand me at all?” Brandon asked again.
He tried to look into her eyes as he spoke to her, but Meadow would not meet his gaze again. She felt as if she had just gotten caught in a bear trap, and she would have preferred cutting off a foot to being here with this man now.
Finally, Meadow swallowed the heavy lump of fear and anger that had risen up in her throat. In spite of herself, she glanced up at the Mountie and studied his face. He seemed deeply concerned about her, and she knew that she had no other choice but to put her trust in this man—even if he did seem like her worst enemy at this moment.
“Are you being held prisoner here?” Brandon asked. She looked away from him. Defeated, he sighed and
looked toward the village again. He had no idea what he should do. He did know what he wanted to do. He wanted to scoop this fragile beauty up in his arms and take her far away from this savage place. Instead, he tried once more to communicate with her, when she pointed at the horses again.
“I can’t just give you a horse and allow you to take off on your own,” he said apologetically. He motioned to where she clasped her ribs. “Besides, you don’t seem to be in any shape to be going anywhere.” The panic he saw rise up in her green eyes when she looked up at him made him wonder if she did know what he was saying. He drew in a heavy sigh as he contemplated this dangerous situation. He could not go into the village and interrupt Walsh’s meeting with the Blackfoot chiefs, nor could he let this girl have her way. If he gave her one of their horses and let her ride off without an escort, he would never be able to live with himself if something worse happened to her.
He stepped in front of the girl so that he could see her face clearly as he spoke to her, even though she still would not look directly at him again. “It’s vitally importantly for me to know what’s happened to you. If you can understand me, please, please let me know.” Her expression revealed nothing to him, and her silence told him that she was either too scared to reply or truly unable to understand him. Maybe if she had been with the Indians her whole life, she really did not understand anything he was saying to her.
The frightened expression that continued to claim her dirt-streaked face made Brandon feel a growing sense of panic, too. He thought once again about go
ing for his superintendent, but then pushed the thought out of his mind once and for all. Though he didn’t know how she had gotten here, it was more than obvious that she was desperate to get away. He recalled all the talk he had heard about the ageless war between the Blackfoot and the Sioux. Had the Blackfoot abused this girl because of her relationship with the Sioux war chief, Black Horse? he wondered. This thought caused nausea to flood through him, and the memory of her standing beside the virile chief only increased this sick feeling. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment in an effort to clear both of the images from his mind. None of that matters right now, he told himself. All that mattered at this time was keeping this girl safe.