Clinging to the post, Meadow stared at Black Horse as he stumbled past her. Their gazes locked, but she could not decipher the strange look in his raven eyes. His blank stare almost suggested that he didn’t recognize her, yet that could not be possible. She leaned forward, yearning to reach out and touch him. He was alive—close enough to touch—and she desperately wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let him go again. Her mouth opened to call out to him, to tell him how much she loved him, but the words did not follow.
His eyes—those beautiful dark ebony eyes that had haunted her day and night for so long—were now the eyes of a stranger. She had seen that look in his raven gaze before, when he had talked about his loathing for the white men. She saw his eyes rake up and down her body, then rise back up to her face, but this time he did not allow his gaze to meet hers. Meadow had no doubt now that he recognized her. But he was not looking at
the woman he had once loved so passionately. He saw only a white woman—his most hated enemy.
As the group of soldiers and their prisoners walked around the corner and out of view, Meadow clung to the post. If she allowed herself to move, she knew she would not be able to stop herself from running wildly after Black Horse, throwing herself at his feet and telling him that regardless of how she was dressed or where she was, in her heart she was still a Sioux.
Staying quiet and still was the hardest thing Meadow had ever done. Every inch of her being ached from the effort it took to remain passive while the love of her life disappeared from view. Her heart felt as if it had just been ripped in half, her mouth went dry and it was difficult for her take a breath.
“Mary, my God! You’re as white as a ghost,” Robert gasped as he grabbed her around the waist to prevent her from falling down. She was holding on to the post so tightly that he could not even squeeze his arm all the way around her. Although he had seen the Indians pass right in front of her, he had no idea how profoundly the sight of them had affected her. He had believed that his sister sympathized with the Indians, but from her strange reaction now, he was questioning that belief. The look of horror on her ashen face made him wonder if she was so scared and confused that she didn’t even know what she was talking about when she defended the Sioux.
“Let’s get you as far away from here as possible,” Robert said in a sympathic voice. “And don’t you worry—you’ll never have to be around another one of those savages again, because I’m going to protect you
now, and if one of those animals ever comes near you, I’ll kill him with my bare hands!”
Meadow stared up at her brother, unable to speak or to think beyond the agony that was tearing her into a million little pieces inside. The joy she was feeling from knowing that Black Horse was alive was overpowered by the painful knowledge that he now hated her as much as—or more than—he had once loved her. She dutifully allowed her brother to lead her down the steps and help her mount her horse. The thoughts in her pounding head were jumbled with indecision and confusion. How could she leave Fort Keogh now, knowing that Black Horse was a prisoner here?
Still, she was rational enough to think about how foolish it would be for her to refuse to go with her brother, so Meadow took the reins when Robert handed them to her. She stared in the direction where she had last seen Black Horse. She had to figure out a way to get back here soon, and she had to prove to Black Horse that she had not deserted her adoptive people as he had once predicted. She had to show him how much she still loved him, and then she would spend the rest of her life proving it.
Black Horse had lost track of time. Some days he didn’t care whether he lived or died. But now, everything mattered again.
For months the idea of seeing his green-eyed woman again was the only thing that had kept him going. Now that he had actually seen her and knew what a liar and a traitor she was, he had a different reason to live—to get out of here and tell Meadow how much he loathed her.
He slid down to the ground, leaned his head back against the dirt walls of his cell and closed his eyes in an effort to wipe away her image, that of a white woman through and through. His hand contracted into a tight fist. If he had the strength he would beat something. He thought about the times she had told him about her never-ending devotion to the Sioux, and he had believed every word of it. His heart felt as though a stone-edged lance had just ripped through it. Her lies hurt worse than any of the pain they had ever inflicted on him in this white man’s prison.
Meadow had thought that leaving the Sioux village was difficult. But that did not even begin to compare to the agony of leaving Black Horse behind at the fort.
She had no idea how far it was to Fort Custer, but she knew she had to make a plan before they had gone too far. Forcing herself out of the shocked trance she had been in since seeing Black Horse, Meadow began to focus on her surroundings. There would be no chance for her to sneak away from Robert and the other two men until they camped for the night. She had to be very certain that she would be heading back in the right direction.
But then what? She could hardly ride right back into Fort Keogh and break Black Horse out of the stronghold without help. For now, she just had to focus on the countryside and the tracking tricks she had learned from White Buffalo.
This part of northern Montana was mostly rolling hills and wide-open prairie. Meadow hoped that making her way through the dark would not be too difficult. Traveling alone was becoming all too familiar, and she had learned that it was far more dangerous than it was exciting. Soon she hoped that she would be riding at Black Horse’s side, and then she would never ride alone again.
Spring was rapidly turning into summer, and the air grew hot by midday. Meadow was miserable in the heavy riding skirt and long-sleeved blouse she was wearing. Thank goodness for the black flat-brimmed hat that she had brought with her to shield the sun from her eyes and skin. After spending so much time indoors, she had noticed that her pale skin burned more easily when she was out in the sun.
Robert seemed obsessed with getting back to Fort Custer as soon as possible and pressed the horses and the riders to their limits. They stopped to water the horses several times during the day and only once to eat a quick meal of canned beans and corn bread. The great distance they had covered in just one day was disheartening to Meadow; she would have to ride all night without stopping to get back to Fort Keogh. She just hoped that both she and her horse were able to make the journey.
To her relief, Robert decided to call it a day just as the sun was beginning to set in the western sky. As she helped the men heat up a simple dinner of biscuits and stew that they had brought from last night’s dinner at Fort Keogh, Meadow meticulously planned her escape. For the first time since they had met, Robert’s mood seemed to mellow, and as they sat around the campfire sipping coffee after dinner, Meadow caught him watching her intently.
When he noticed she was staring back at him, Robert shook his head and smiled. “I just can’t get over how much you look like Mother,” he said, still shaking his head.
“Tell me something about her—and Father and all the others, too,” Meadow asked in a soft voice, knowing
that this would probably be the only chance she would ever have to learn about any of them. She leaned forward so that she could see her brother’s face more clearly in the flickering firelight. He had removed his gray army hat, and his blond, wavy hair hung softly over the side of his forehead. His thin face was accented by a straight nose and full mouth. There was a barely noticeable stubble of light-colored growth on his chin and above his upper lip. As she watched him reclining back against his bedroll with his long muscled legs stretched out in front of him, she realized her brother was a very handsome man.
“And how about telling me something about you, too. Is there a wife, children?” she asked.
This brought another smile to Robert’s usually stern expression. “Nope, neither. I guess you could say I’m married to my career.” Noticing the confused look on his sister’s face, Robert quickly added, “I mean that I’ve just never gotten around to looking for a wife, I guess. How about you—?” He stopped and clenched his jaw.
His abrupt change of attitude reminded Meadow of his intense hatred of the Sioux and that she had to be careful what she said around him. To her relief, Robert changed the subject back to their parents and siblings.
“I really wish you could have known our parents, Mary. They were such good people—proud, too. I don’t think Dad ever missed a day of work in his entire life when we were back East. He owned a livery stable outside of Boston, and he worked hard to make ends meet so that none of us would ever want for anything.” A faraway expression settled on Robert’s face as he
continued. “We didn’t live high on the hog or anything, but we sure ate good, and we had nice clothes to wear to school. I never once felt deprived.”
In her mind, Meadow could see the man her brother spoke of as clearly as if she had always known him: a proud, strong adventurer who had thrown caution to the wind to carve out a new life for his family in the Wild West. How tragic that his dream had ended so horribly. Meadow pushed the thoughts of her family’s deaths to the back of her mind. She was not ready to think about any of those things, yet.
“What was our mother like?” Meadow asked as she scooted closer to Robert.
Robert smiled again. “Mother,” he said slowly. “Mom was so beautiful—just like you. She was just a tiny thing, too, like you,” he added as he pointed his finger teasingly at her. “And she could cook like nobody’s business. I remember Sunday dinners after church…” Robert closed his eyes, envisioning those happy family times so long ago.
“There’d be fried chicken, mashed taters, this thick white gravy and the best biscuits you ever ate.” He motioned toward the leftover biscuits from dinner. “Those are like eatin’ rocks compared to Ma’s biscuits. Randy, one of our brothers, could pack away a dozen or more at one sitting. And then she would bring out the most perfect apple pie or this dark chocolate cake with sweet brown frosting.” Robert paused as his face took on a look of joy.
Meadow stared at the man before her, amazed at the way he had transformed into a little boy right before her eyes as he talked about his cherished childhood memories—memories that seemed so foreign to her. It
was almost inconceivable that she had once been part of the life he spoke of now.
Robert laughed as he recalled one incident from the past. “I remember once when you were just a baby, maybe no more than a year old or so. Ma had set one of those delicious cakes down on the picnic table where you had been tied into this tall chair so that you wouldn’t fall out. She didn’t realize that she had put that darn cake within your reach, and the next thing we knew, you had both your chubby little paws right in the middle of that cake. Before Ma could move it away, you had chocolate cake and frosting smeared all over your face and in that wild mass of curly blonde hair that you used to have.” Robert chuckled with the memory.
Meadow joined in his laughter as she envisioned a little girl covered in chocolate. The image of her as a happy toddler surrounded by her mother, father and siblings was so new to Meadow, yet it was becoming easier for her to picture in her mind. A feeling of sadness suddenly intruded into Meadow’s merriment as her laughter began to fade. Thinking about her real family somehow made her feel like a traitor to her adoptive Indian family.
“Mary, is something wrong?” Robert asked as he noticed the change in her attitude. When she shrugged in response to his question and avoided looking directly at him, he continued, “I suppose it is hard to hear about a life and a family that you don’t remember, but Mary, that is why it is so important for you to realize just how much was stolen from you because of those savages.”
Once again, Meadow heard the hatred in his voice
and saw in his face just how deeply he had been affected by the past. She swallowed hard and tried to imagine just how drastically Robert’s life must have changed after the attack on their wagon train. Everything and everyone involved in the life he had led up to that point vanished that one tragic day.
Meadow reached out and tenderly wrapped her hands around one of her brother’s clenched fists. His hand instantly began to relax in hers as their gazes met. Meadow saw a smile softly touch the corners of his lips once again, and instinctively she smiled back. Inside, her heart felt as if it were being torn apart. She knew the kinship they had just discovered would be short-lived, because once her brother discovered that she had returned to the Sioux to be with the man she loved with all of her heart, he would hate her as much as he hated all Indians.
“Robert,” Meadow said in a gentle voice. “Until a few days ago, I did not know of your existence. And because I was so young when I was taken by the Sioux, I never knew of the life I had lived with my real family. The Sioux couple who took me into their home treated me as if I was their own daughter and raised me with kindness and love.” Meadow felt Robert’s hand begin to tighten back into a fist and she knew her next words had to be chosen with great care. “Hearing you talk about our parents and siblings adds a whole new perspective to everything I’ve ever known and makes me feel so sorry that I don’t have the sweet memories of those days when we were all together.”
Robert exhaled heavily and slowly pulled his hand away from Meadow’s grip. “I realize that you had no other choice but to become a part of the tribe that
kidnapped you.” He leaned forward again, yet refrained from taking her hand again. “But what I don’t understand is—now that you know what happened to us—how you can still have any compassion for those heathens.”
The tone of his voice held no sympathy, and it caused a sinking feeling to work its way through Meadow’s body. She knew she could never hope to make him understand her devotion to her adoptive people or her overpowering love for Black Horse. “I feel torn between two different worlds, and I don’t know how I am supposed to feel anymore. In my heart”—she raised her hand to her chest as she talked—“I am so sad for all the memories I do not have of you and the rest of our family, and I know that there is nothing that will ever fill that deep hole of sadness. But the memories I do have are of being loved and protected and—”
“Stop it!” Robert cut in sharply. He threw his hands over his ears in a childish gesture. As he rose up to his feet, he added, “I never want to hear you talk about those animals again. The years you spent with them are in the past, and from now on all that matters is wiping those memories away completely.” The anger in his voice faded slightly as he added, “I will help you to forget. Now, let’s get some shut-eye so that we can head out at first light.”
Meadow attempted to keep the trembling out of her voice as she said, “Good night, Robert, and thank you for never giving up on me.”
The sunlight had almost faded completely away, and only the small glow from the campfire lit the area, but Meadow could see the tender expression that touched her brother’s face before he turned away. Meadow
pulled her legs up against her body and hugged them closely in her arms as she watched the last of the flames sink into the glowing orange embers in the circle of rocks.
Today had been a day of such contrasts, partly filled with overwhelming joy at seeing that Black Horse was still alive, yet also with such deep sorrow because of the way he had looked at her. Then, hearing about events of her distant past had evoked a deep sense of melancholy. In many ways it was easier to not know anything about the life she had once lived among her real family.
The dying embers began to blur before Meadow’s eyes, and for a brief instant she allowed her lids to close down over her pupils. As it had been almost every night since last fall, the pictures in her subconscious mind were once again filled with only one face and one memory—Black Horse. Meadow’s entire body still yearned for Black Horse’s touch, and there was not one minute detail of their one night of lovemaking that she could not recall.
Finally, she was forced to open her eyes and face the fact that she had only been dreaming—again. How could it feel so real? Her skin was still tingling with the imagined feel of Black Horse’s embraces, and her lips felt as if they were pulsating from his demanding kisses. The urgency that filled her was mixed with fear and excitement, now that she knew these feelings would be a reality again soon. The cold look on Black Horse’s face this morning passed before her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to wipe the image away. She would prove her love to him once she had figured out a way to get him away from Fort Keogh.
The silence surrounding her made Meadow aware that she was the only one still awake. Her brother and the two soldiers accompanying them were all snoring softly in their bedrolls. Meadow made her way to her own bedroll as quietly as possible and then rolled an extra blanket up and stuffed it into the center of the flat bedroll. She attempted to make the blanket look like a body, but it was a hopeless task. The best she could hope for was that none of the men would wake up before morning and discover that she was no longer here. As she rose up to her feet again, Meadow looked longingly at the bedroll with the little lump in the middle of it. How she wished she could take the heavy blanket and the bedroll with her for the nights she would be sleeping on the hard ground until she was back in the soft furs of her and Black Horse’s tepee. At least she still had her white blanket to ward off the cold. She grabbed several biscuits that were left over from dinner and remembered the story Robert had told her about their mother’s biscuits. She glanced back in his direction one last time and blinked back tears.
The horses had been hobbled a short distance from the campsite, and to Meadow’s relief they did not whinny or startle when she approached them. It was easy to lead the palomino she had ridden earlier today away from the others after she had untied him from the stake in the ground.
She led the horse away from the camp and did not attempt to put a halter on him or mount him until she was at least a quarter mile from the camp. Then, she swung up onto his bare back and gently nudged him in the sides with her knees. The horse fell into an easy gait, and before long, Meadow felt confident that she
had made a clean getaway. There was only a half-circle moon overhead, but it provided enough light to guide the horse and rider along their way, and they only stopped occasionally in the night to rest or get a drink of water when they encountered a pond or stream.