“I will care for him. You must rest,” she
said and pointed to the mat.
Melissa shook her head but Laughing Tree
pushed her gently to the fur blanket. She should sleep and she
didn’t have the strength to argue but his aunt would care for him
awhile. With closed eyes, she promised herself only a few winks but
she didn’t open her eyes again until nightfall. When Melissa woke,
she realized that she had been carried to Laughing Tree’s wickiup
to sleep as long as her body needed rest. She appreciated the kind
gesture and fell back to sleep. When she opened her eyes the next
morning another young maiden was sitting there. She was informed
that Laughing Tree was attending her nephew and left saying nothing
more
Her nephew was still unconscious, but
thrashed about with a high fever. Laughing Tree bathed his large
body, marveling at how beautiful he was. It was no wonder Little
Turtle lusted after him. She knew they had been lovers, but now she
saw only pain in her daughter’s eyes. This white slave had replaced
Little Turtle in his heart. She didn’t like the feeling she had in
her stomach, there would be more trouble. There was a jealous look
in Little Turtle’s eyes whenever the white captive was mentioned.
She would have preferred her stepdaughter not to be left alone
with Moon Glow but Blue Thunder wanted it.
Recalling the bruise on the white girl’s cheek, her heart skipped a
beat.
It was not Blue Thunder who had struck the
white one, but Little Turtle. She would have to keep a watchful eye
on her stepdaughter. At this moment, it was her nephew whom she had
to worry about. Why did Moon Glow try to kill him, and then save
his life? She went to seek out her brother, Dasodaha and she could
hear the medicine man in the chief’s tent still raving.
Laughing Tree called out and he gave his
permission for her to enter. Dasodaha held his head as if the great
spirit was beating a drum inside his skull. She also received the
medicine’s man message loud and clear. With a scowl on his face the
irate healer, Quanah cursed then raised
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an angry fist at her before leaving. Once
outside the dwelling, they heard Quanah commence again with his
whooping to flourish the evil spirits away. Her brother said that
never before had anyone of the tribe showed the medicine man so
little respect and she apologized.
“White slave attacked my son so she could
escape!” bellowed Dasodaha before she could speak.
“Then why did she stay to help him?”
Laughing Tree snapped in return.
“I do not have an answer for that but I do
not think I need one.” He sat heavily on his mat to think. “I want
to tie the white woman to a stake for what she had done but I do
not want to anger Blue Thunder. She’s his slave to deal with when
he recovers.” He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and said, more to the
point, growled, “White eyes must be returned to her people; she had
already caused too much trouble but I will wait to talk with my son
after evil spirit leaves his body.”
Laughing Tree knew arguing with her brother
was pointless and so was his threat on the captive. No enemy is
tortured. She will give him time to let some of his indignation
leave his body. It had been a strenuous week, with all that had
happened. She needed to return to her hut and pray that no more
evil will befall the camp. Then she had to make peace with
Quanah.
She had all the bad luck she could
handle.
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TWENTY
Melissa paced. Stopped,
bit her thumb nail, and then paced again.
What will happen to me if Blue Thunder dies?
At this point she needn’t ask. She didn’t care
about her own welfare; she loved that big, handsome brave and
thought she couldn’t go on without him. She no longer wanted to
escape.
Or do you? Damn that Indian for
making my body betray me!
Could she accept life as his slave if she
had his love on the side? It distressed her to think of sharing his
firm body with another, especially one who would torment her. Never
had she experienced so much self-lecturing. Exhausted, she sighed
feeling too weary to think clearly, she sat. Maybe it would be best
if she did leave. Blue Thunder might punish her for what she had
done, if, and when, he recovered. Tormented, she fell asleep.
Shortly, a sharp jab in the ribs brought her rudely awake. She
opened her eyes, clutching her side seeing Little Turtle’s twisted
face undulated before her eyes.
“Get up, white bitch!” Little Turtle
snarled.
The enraged maiden pulled
her groggy up by her hair. Melissa gasped as she tried to pull
back.
Was this Indian maiden
insane?
“Let go!” she wailed. Her reward
was another tug. She yelped like a puppy that had sniffed a
hornet’s nest. The more she struggled, the more painful the hold
became.
“You jealous Blue Thunder wants me for wife.
You think if you cannot have him, I cannot have him either.”
“I was only defending myself,” Melissa
cried.
“You lie, slave!” The Indian bitch spat in
her face.
Melissa now knew Little Turtle was indeed
crazy and she wondered if the girl had been lying to her all along.
She continued to struggle until she didn’t have the strength to
fight and collapsed onto her back when she was released. The next
thing she knew, Little Turtle was straddling her, holding a knife
to her throat. She saw the crazed look in the dark eyes as she
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ranted but didn’t understand because the
maiden had lapsed into her own tongue. The she-wolf then switched
to English and Melissa preferred that she didn’t understand the
crazy Indian
“I will kill you. I will tell Blue Thunder
that you tried to run away after you attempted to kill him. Blue
Thunder is mine. I will kill anyone who tries to steal him from
me!”
Her knife was raised in the air. Melissa saw
the gleam of the weapon as it was poised high, any moment the blade
could pierce her heart. Her last thought before fainting was that
she never told Blue Thunder how much she loved him.
Laughing Tree left her brother’s lodge. She
couldn’t change Dasodaha’s mind about the white girl, even though
she believed Moon Glow would bring nothing but trouble. Was it
because the white woman was more like the daughter she would have
liked? She loved Little Turtle as if she was of her own blood, but
the girl continued to bring shame upon their band.
Her husband, Wolf With Spirit, Little
Turtle’s father had been murdered by the white eyes when
the girl was very young, making her
daughter-by-marriage very bitter against the white man. But who
could blame her? She would have been happier if Wolf With Spirit’s
daughter’s heart was more forgiving; to understand that there are
good and bad among all kinds of people. Entering the wickiup she
saw a terrible scene unfolding before her eyes. Stunned, she gaped
at the shiny object held high in the air by Little Turtle. She
assumed her daughter was taking her own life. “No!” she screamed
and lunged at the hand holding the weapon.
Little Turtle was strong and fought her with
a blow to her stomach. Laughing Tree faltered and inhaled to try to
replace air that had whooshed from her lungs. At that moment, she
realized the white girl was pinned under her stepdaughter. Seeing
Little Turtle raise the weapon again, with renewed strength she
threw her body at her stepdaughter’s. She froze when she saw red
blood ooze from under Little Turtle. She trembled, fearing Little
Turtle had killed the white prisoner. A wolf howled in the
distance, a sign of death caused her swallow with fear. Slowly,
with trembling hands, she managed to turn her step-daughter’s body
over to discover that the knife protruded from Little Turtle’s
chest. She gasped; her eyes were wide with the horror of her
stepdaughter’s death. Then a sound emitted from her throat that
only a wounded animal could make.
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Weeping, Laughing Tree fell to her knees,
peering at her hands as if they were the actual weapon used to kill
Little Turtle.
“Great Spirit, have mercy on me,” she
sobbed.
Melissa regained consciousness and opened
her eyes surprised to find herself looking into the swollen faces
of Laughing Tree and an older Indian who looked so much like Blue
Thunder.
She blinked to focus her
vision, to make sure she was seeing correctly. Startled, she spring
up. “Blue Thunder?” she gasped.
Was he
dead?
She wanted to ask, but the
spiritless face of the old man made her swallow her
words.
“I am chief, Dasodaha. You caused our people
much trouble,” the harsh voice said.
She shut her eyes tight, fearing Blue
Thunder was dead.
“My son almost died by your hands. Now my
beautiful niece, Little Turtle is dead.”
Did he say almost? He’s
alive
. She only heard Dasodaha’s first
statement. Blue Thunder lives. Overjoyed, she wanted to jump up and
hug everyone, but the two grievous faces were so filled with
anguish, she sat there quietly. Confusion and an eerie sensation
rolled over her making her skin crawl. Why weren’t they happy?
Melissa looked at Laughing Tree, who was weeping quietly. She gazed
into the woman’s glossy eyes for answers but knew she’d get
none.
“Little Turtle is dead,” Dasodaha repeated
for her benefit. He must have suspected she didn’t hear him the
first time.
“Dead?” her voice came out strangled, that
she could barely whisper. “How could this be? The girl tried to
kill me.” She lowered her head and noticed the dark, red stains on
the front of her dress. “Oh, God!” she gasped, feeling her stomach
churn. Covering her face with her hands, she swallowed to try to
get past the lump in her throat and whimpered, “What happened?”
“My sister saved your life but killed her
daughter,” he replied bluntly, his voice laden with rancor.
Melissa couldn’t look at the old chief or
Laughing Tree. This had to be a horrible night- mare, one she would
wake up from any moment. It seemed as if her body had drained of
heat,
leaving her cold and shivering. Once again,
she rued the day Blue Thunder took her from the wagon train.
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Dasodaha shook his head. “I saw flicker of
hope skate through white woman’s eyes before sadness and confusion
clouded them. You have feeling for Blue Thunder, this not good. My
sister said Little Turtle was possessed by an evil spirit; this
does not lie easy in my heart. I told Blue Thunder you would cause
trouble and he did not listen to father’s advice, only his own
stubborn heart. He made bad mistake by keeping you. Thankfully, my
son will survive wound, but his life will be ruined if he goes
against our laws. You tried to take his life, and then gave it
back; I am grateful for that. I must send you away before Blue
Thunder gets chance to stop me.”
The chief inhaled deeply. “Being leader, I
give your life for life. Three of my braves will take you from
village, it will be better for all. When Blue Thunder awakes from
deep sleep, he will only know you asked to be taken back to your
people.”
Melissa didn’t say anything to defend
herself; maybe it was better this way. She didn’t belong here; she
brought nothing but pain to his people. She would go and remember
the love he gave to her; she’d never forget him. Her heart was
heavy with sorrow for Laughing Tree’s loss. The Indian woman didn’t
deserve what had happened but Melissa appreciated that Laughing
Tree had spoken the truth and not tried to frame her with this
accident. Although shocked and sorry, she was conflicted about
Little Turtle’s death and was glad she would never have to deal
with the crazed maiden again. But then, that was a moot point now.
She’d never have to deal with any of these Apache’s again, even
Blue Thunder, and that caused great agony to her heart.
The next morning dawned sunny, a definite
contrast to Melissa’s mood. She would have liked to have seen Blue
Thunder once more but knew it was impossible. A horse waited for
her outside the wickiup. She mounted it and rode from the village
spotting men carrying the corpse, wrapped in a blanket. Tears she
believed had dried up last night welled in her aching eyes as she
rode with her head held high. His people wouldn’t see her cry, but
as soon as they cleared the village, she lost her battle and water
gushed forth. She feared that her heavy heart would explode into a
thousand pieces and she if it did, she could never restore it to
what it had been. She wore the same beaded dress, now caked with
dried blood. It would be a constant reminder that this was the
right thing to do. At least her Indian would be all right and she
prayed for his happiness.
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Melissa spent four days on the trail with
the escort of braves. They didn’t treat her badly, nor did they go
out of their way to try to communicate. They provided food, drink,
and privacy for bathing and toilet. She didn’t care that her
traveling time was spent in a state of total invisibility, her mind
was on Blue Thunder and how she missed him. The pain in her heart
was the only thing that made her realize she was still alive. On
the morning of the fifth day, the braves stopped near an army fort.
One buck lifted her from the pony and she stood on weak legs. They
disappeared over the horizon as she walked toward the fort.
The shrill cry of a distant hawk seemed to
be crying, “Good-bye.”
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TWENTY-ONE
Before the sun climbed to the center of the
sky, Blue Thunder awoke. Blinking to make his eyes focus, his head
no longer ached but his side still stung.
“My son awakes again,” Dasodaha said with a
frown. “It has been four suns since you let your slave poke you
like a fish on a spear.”