“We’ve got to get you away from here, don’t we?” Brandon asked as he considered her precarious situation. He tightened his hold on the girl and glanced over at the horses as he tried to formulate a plan.
Meadow continued to avoid his intense stare as she tried to form a plan of her own, but panic continued to rule her thoughts. The more time that passed, the slimmer her chances became to escape from here, and this would undoubtedly be her only chance to get away.
Meadow’s gaze reluctantly moved up to his face. It seemed that he was honestly concerned for her safety. Hope soared through her when she realized that he might be thinking about giving into her request for a horse. Disappointment mingled with her growing terror when he began to speak again.
“I’ll have to ride with you, since I’m sure you’re not able to ride by yourself in your condition.” He turned
toward the village again. “Maybe I should hide you somewhere until the rest of the troop returns. It will be much safer if we all ride out together.”
Meadow’s lashes narrowed slightly as she watched his frantic motions. She just wanted a horse so that she could get out of here—alone—but how was she going to convince this man to give into her wishes without letting him know that she could understand everything that he was saying to her?
Once again, Meadow motioned toward the horses, this time as forcefully as she could manage. The effort caused the pain in her ribs to flare through her entire body. She bit her bottom lip in an effort to hide her pain from the Mountie, but she could tell that he had noticed how much discomfort she was in. That might work to her advantage, she thought.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Brandon said as he reached for her. “I will not leave you here like this.”
Meadow noticed that his worried gaze scanned the area again as he waited for her to take his hand. The woods surrounding the Blackfoot village were not as dense or secluded as those at the Sioux encampment, but there was a scattering of bushes and a forest of scraggily pines surrounding the area. Motioning toward the thickest clump of brush, Brandon tried to convey his wishes with gestures and the simplest of words. “Hide … in bushes.”
Meadow stared at his outstretched hand as indecision ruled her thoughts. He had said he’d get her out of here, and she had no other choice but to believe him. Her hand shook as she reached out toward him. The idea that she would actually be holding the hand of the man who had ruined her wedding seemed in
conceivable to her. She had no other choice, so she let him lead her to one of the nearby horses and allowed him to place his hands around her waist and lift her up into the saddle. The pain this movement caused Meadow almost made her cry out, but once again she clamped her mouth tightly shut and fought back the urge to give in to her agony. When the Mountie swung up behind her, however, she wanted more than ever to scream at him to let her leave here alone. It had been difficult enough to accept his help up to now. If she had any hope of getting away, however, she had to agree to his terms.
They rode a short distance down the narrow trail, and then the Mountie guided the horse into a thicker grove of trees. The horse and riders waited for what seemed to Meadow to be an eternity. She knew now that she would not be returning to her beloved Black Horse or to her father in the near future, and this realization made tears sting the corners of her eyes and a sharp spear of desperation rip through her heart.
Brandon Cornett was a bundle of nerves as they waited down the trail for the rest of the troop to catch up to them. He wondered how Superintendent Walsh was going to react when he saw this girl again. The super-intendent’s main goal at this time was to try to keep peace among all the tribes that had recently settled here in Canada, and if this girl was the source of any trouble, Brandon feared he might refuse to take her back to the fort with them.
He had not made another attempt to talk to her, since conversation seemed impossible. But he would not rest until he knew how she had gotten here and what
unspeakable abuses she had obviously endured at the hands of these Blackfoot savages, and previously, when she had been with those murderous Sioux.
The sound of approaching horses snapped Brandon’s thoughts back to his immediate problems. He slid down from the horse, keeping the reins gripped tightly in his hands so that the girl could not try to take off with his horse. Then he pushed the branches apart slightly and peeked out to see who was riding down the trail. He exhaled the breath he had been holding when he saw his troop heading in his direction. Even more to his relief was the fact that there was no Blackfoot escorting them from the area. Now, he just had to face his superintendent’s wrath.
When the riders were almost to them, Brandon drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders and stepped out into the open.
Walsh raised his arm in the air and brought the troop to an abrupt halt. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “I thought you’d deserted when we returned to the horses and you were gone—” He stopped speaking when Brandon led his horse the rest of the way out of the bushes and he saw the girl sitting on the animal’s back. The superintendent stared at her without saying a word.
“I know you’re wondering where she came from, but trust me, I’m just as confused as you are,” Brandon began. “I was doing my duty as you ordered when she staggered up to me in this awful state. How she got here from the Sioux village is a complete mystery. But she needs our help.”
Walsh continued to gawk at the girl with a shocked look on his face. Brandon was certain that his com
mander recognized her as the same white girl who had been about to marry the Sioux war chief. But finding her here now—and in this traumatized condition—left the superintendent speechless for a moment.
When Walsh finally spoke, he used the Sioux language. “How is it that you are here with the Blackfoot? Were you taken captive, or did you run away from the Sioux village?”
“C-captive,” Meadow stammered. She would have to be careful around this man, since he spoke the Sioux tongue so well.
“Captive?” Walsh repeated and sighed heavily when the girl nodded her head in agreement.
“That’s probably why she is so afraid,” Brandon added. “She seems desperate to get away from here, and she has obviously been mistreated.” He glanced up at her pale face and noticed that she still looked as if she was about to jump out of her own skin.
“And we should get away from here, too, because once her captors discover that she is gone, they’re going to be headed right down this trail to look for her,” said Walsh. “They won’t be too happy to find her with us, because they weren’t real pleased with our visit here today, either.” He looked down at Brandon with a narrow-eyed stare. “I will deal with you when we get back to the fort.”
Brandon swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and wasted no time climbing back up into the saddle behind the girl. He had no doubt that he would feel even more of Walsh’s fury when they returned to the fort this time, but right now he was more concerned with the possibility of the Blackfoot catching up to them.
Fort Walsh consisted of a scattering of tents, and several long buildings that served as barracks and a stockade. Superintendent Walsh was the first commander of this post, so he had the honor of having the fort named after him. Located on a flat, open tract of land at the base of the Cypress Hills, only a tall wooden fence surrounded the complex. The infirmary consisted of two rooms: one large room that housed the fort’s doctor and a smaller room at the back where two beds and necessary medical supplies were stored. Meadow had been brought to this back room a week ago.
The post doctor, Sergeant Roberts, had usually had no more than an occasional cough to treat or a cut to disinfect since he had been stationed at Fort Walsh. The young white girl that had been found at the Blackfoot camp was Roberts’s first real patient in months. But since her most serious injuries had already been tended to at the Blackfoot village, there was little else for the doctor to do. Her broken ribs had been bound in such an expert manner that Roberts decided not to remove the bandages until it was necessary to change them. But he busied himself with seeing to it that she was as comfortable as possible.
“How’s our patient today?” Brandon asked Sergeant Roberts cheerfully as he entered the back room.
Meadow glanced at the doorway, then quickly looked toward the window again. With her head tilted up in a stubborn manner, she pretended to ignore the lieutenant.
“She’s better—I guess,” the sergeant said. A deep sigh hinted at his concern for his patient.
“Is there something else wrong with her?” Brandon asked in an alarmed tone of voice.
The doctor shrugged. “Well, look at her. She just seems so…depressed.”
“I would imagine all the horror she’s seen while she was an Indian captive at the Blackfoot camp, and before that with the Sioux, has left her scarred for life.”
Meadow continued to stare out the window.
“Have you been able to find out anything about her?” Roberts asked.
“We’ve wired Fort Keogh, but there’s not been a reply as of yet. It’s doubtful that we will ever find out who she is, so I guess we’ll just have to help her start a new life, now that she’s back where she belongs,” Brandon answered.
It took all of Meadow’s composure to keep from turning away from the window and telling the soldier what he could do with his misguided opinions regarding where she belonged. But she had more important things to concentrate on right now. She knew her ribs were healing nicely; there was barely any pain when she moved now. All she needed was a horse to ride. Her father—although he was stingy about teaching
her his medicinal secrets—had taught her a few things about tracking, in case she should ever get lost.
The thought of home also brought about the relentless longing to be reunited with Black Horse. Was he frantically looking for her? He would have no idea that she was here at the fort, and she feared for his life if he should try to go to the Blackfoot village to look for her. A choking sense of panic rose up inside her. She knew she had to escape from here as soon as possible. She had to get to Black Horse to let him know that she was all right, and warn him about Strong Tree.
“It’s such a beautiful fall day,” Brandon said as he walked up beside her. “I wish you’d let me take you outside for a breath of fresh air.”
Meadow looked up at him and shrugged. Then she looked up at him again and wrinkled her brow as if she were confused by what he was asking her.
He pointed out the window and then motioned toward her, adding, “Outside. Would you like to go outside?” He used embellished hand movements to explain his intent as he pointed toward the open doorway.
Meadow was tempted to laugh out loud at the sol-dier’s ridiculous charades. She pointed feebly at the outdoors and gave her head a slight nod. As she rose up to her feet, she pretended to be in a great deal of pain. The lieutenant immediately slipped his arm around her shoulders for support, and although she preferred that he did not touch her, Meadow decided it would be to her benefit not to protest.
The gently blowing autumn breeze brushed against Meadow’s skin. She drew in a deep breath and savored
the feel of the fresh air on her face. For as long as she could remember, she had never been confined in a white man’s cabin until now, and she felt as if she were caged in a wooden box. The outdoors invigorated her and made her feel almost as good as new.
The vibrant hues of gold and orange on the hillsides reminded Meadow that it would not be long before the harsh winds of winter would whip across the Canadian countryside. She had to make her escape before it began to snow. The land would look entirely different then, and she would have a much harder time locating the Sioux village.
Although she wished she could just take off running through the first open gate she saw and not stop until she reached her village, Meadow waited patiently for the soldier to take the lead. She did not want to do anything that would prevent her from ascertaining the location of the horses and the easiest exit from the fort. The lieutenant took the liberty of draping his arm over her shoulders once again as he began to lead her down the stairs and out into the open courtyard.
His presumption that they were on friendly enough terms for him to be so forward irked Meadow. But it was probably another white-man custom that she did not understand. She had not found anything she liked about the white culture. The cot she had been sleeping on was so uncomfortable, compared to her soft, furry bed in the tepee, and the food they had been feeding her the last few days was much too rich for her tastes. But worst of all was the confining outfit they had given her to wear. The dress was made of coarse muslin and had a fitted bodice and waistband, and even though it was a bit large for her body, Meadow
still felt as though she were suffocating in the garment. At first, she had refused to wear all the under-garments they had given her, but the coarseness of the dress material had rubbed her skin raw, so she finally gave in and put the white cotton petticoat and bloomers on under the dress.
Regardless of the way the restricting garments hindered her legs as she walked across the courtyard, Meadow felt a renewal of her strength and spirit as the warm rays of the sun continued to touch her face. She drew in a deep breath of the clean autumn air as she vowed to herself that this would be the last day she would spend in the white man’s world.
“I wish you could talk to me, at least just to tell me what your name is,” Brandon said with a heavy sigh. “But I’m sure it won’t be long before you learn your native tongue again. I’ll teach you.” For a moment he stopped walking and turned to face Meadow. In a serious tone of voice, he said, “And I will do everything in my power to wipe away all the sorrow and horrors you must have witnessed while you were with those horrible savages.”
To remain silent and not respond to his degrading comments was one of the most difficult tasks Meadow had ever performed. But, she reminded herself, after to night it would not matter what he thought, because she would never have to see him again.
She pointed toward the infirmary, indicating that she was ready to go back. He wrapped his arm over her shoulder once again and began to lead her back.
During their brief excursion through the fort, Meadow had learned everything she needed to know.
She had seen where the horses were kept, and had noticed that the gate leading out of the fort was left wide open during the day for people to travel in and out. She guessed it was closed at night for security reasons, so that meant that she would have to get away while it was still daylight. The sun overhead suggested that it was mid afternoon.
As they approached the infirmary, Meadow saw two white women walking directly toward them. She hadn’t realized that there were any women here. She drew in a trembling breath. She had not seen a white woman for as long as she could remember. One of the women was older, and the other one looked about the same age as Meadow. Were they mother and daughter?
The older woman grabbed the younger girl by the hand before they got any closer, and ducked into the nearest building as if she was afraid to get too close to Meadow. But before they disappeared from sight, the younger girl glanced back over her shoulder. Her gaze locked with Meadow’s for an instant, and a slight smile curved her lips.
Meadow’s steps faltered as she stared back at the girl. She felt the sting of a tear in the corner of her eye. If the Sioux attack on her family had never happened, she might be walking down the street with her own mother right now.
“Are you all right?” Brandon asked when he felt her stumble.
She choked down the lump in her throat and blinked back the tear. Why would something so devastating come to her mind now?
Brandon glanced at the building where the two
women had just entered. “They are the wife and daughter of one of the officers. There’s a boy, too. They arrived just this morning for a visit.” He chuckled. “I doubt they will stay long. I don’t think there are any women who would actually want to live in a remote place like Fort Walsh. I will arrange a meeting for you. I’m sure they would want to meet you while they are here.”
Meadow had to clamp her mouth shout to keep from saying something. The girl’s mother certainly had not looked anxious to meet her.
With a sigh, Brandon opened the door to the infirmary and stood back so that she could enter. “When you’re feeling a bit stronger, I’ll start our speech lessons,” he stated.
No need to bother, Meadow thought as she moved away from him. By tomorrow night I’ll be back with my man and my Sioux family. She put her hand over her mouth and pretended to yawn, and then she cast a longing glance at the back room.
“I’m going to let you get some rest,” Brandon said with an obvious tone of disappointment in his voice. His tone brightened as he added, “But perhaps we could have dinner together later? That is, if I can get out of working to night.”
He shrugged his shoulders and continued to speak as if she was interested in everything he said. “Superintendent Walsh ordered me to do kitchen patrol for the next month. But I’d peel potatoes for the rest of my life if it meant saving you.”
Meadow’s hands curled into clenched fists at her sides. She almost had to bite her tongue to keep from saying something to him this time. Single-handedly,
this one man had destroyed her wedding, which had inadvertently caused her to be taken captive by the Blackfoot, and worst of all, had caused White Buffalo to be injured or even killed. If he hadn’t left when he did, she wasn’t sure she would be able to remain silent any longer.
She had no way of knowing when the doctor would be back, so with her heart frantically pounding in her breast, she began to search through every drawer in his office and the sleeping quarters until she had found everything that she figured she would need for her escape today. She raced to the back room with her loot and stuffed the bundle under her cot until she was ready to put her plan into action.
The sound of the front door opening nearly sent Meadow jumping through the roof. She tried to calm her rapid breathing as she quickly crawled onto her cot and scooted under the bed coverings. When she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the back room, she closed her eyes and attempted to take deep, even breaths as if she were sleeping. The footsteps stopped at the entrance to her room and did not move for a moment. Meadow did not dare open her eyes again until she was certain the man had walked away from her doorway.
She opened her eyes slowly. Sergeant Roberts was standing by his desk in the center of the next room. His head was bent down, and he was reading a paper that he held in his hand. At last, he put the paper down on his desk and glanced at the pocket watch that hung from a fob in his jacket pocket. He shoved his watch back into his pocket, then headed back out the door.
The instant she heard the front door close, Meadow
was out of the bed. She grabbed the clothes she had stashed under her bed and wasted no time in discarding the dress and undergarments that she despised so much. Since she had no idea where her doeskin dress and knee-high moccasins had been taken, she had no choice but to leave them behind. It broke her heart, though, to abandon the beautiful dress she had worn on the day that she was supposed to be wed to Black Horse.
The pants and shirt she donned now were basic Mountie-issued wool pants with a stripe down the side and a black cotton shirt. She slipped her feet into a pair of black lace-up boots that were several sizes too big, but tightened the laces enough so that the boots would not fall off of her feet. A long red blazer with gold trim topped her outfit and reached down to her knees. It was too heavy for this time of day, but it was an essential part of her disguise now, and Meadow knew she would need it once darkness fell and the night grew cold. With the coat buttoned all the way to her chin, she stuffed her long hair underneath the collar before she placed the large tan Mountie hat on her head. She glanced at herself in the reflection of the window and almost laughed at the ridiculous sight that stared back at her.
The next part of her plan would not be so easy. She had to get to the corral to steal a horse without arousing suspicion. Then, she needed to get through the front gates without being stopped. The plan, she reminded herself, was far from perfect, and the chances of her actually succeeding were slim.
Taking a deep, trembling breath, Meadow stepped down from the front stoop and out into the open
courtyard. She glanced toward the area where she had encountered the two white women earlier. They were nowhere to be seen now, but she recalled the way the girl had smiled at her. If she had stayed at Fort Walsh, would she have been able to befriend the girl? Probably not, if the girl’s mother had anything to say about it. She reminded herself that there was no time to waste thinking about things that could never happen.
There was hardly any activity in this part of the fort, since nearly everyone was doing drills or finishing chores before the daylight faded. A young boy of about nine or ten years, obviously the visiting son of the officer Brandon had told her about, was playing with a small puppy on the other side of the courtyard. He was not paying any attention to anything other than his pet. Meadow glanced toward the gate—it was still wide open, and only one guard was stationed in the lookout tower. She pulled the wide brim of the hat down lower and began walking toward the corral where the horses were kept.