Chase the Wind (33 page)

“Let’s wait for the sheriff to find out what’s going on. It’s only
been one day, and they’re probably waiting to see if you have any
family.”

“There is none.”

“But you said you were returning to be with your mother’s peo
ple.”

“Yes, people, not family.” He became agitated as he sought to explain things to the group of strangers gathered around him. “Af
ter my father’s death, we were not welcome with the tribe, so we were going to live among the white people, my mother’s people.”

“How come you were no longer welcome in the tribe?” Jenny
asked, but Jamie held up his hand to stop her.

Chase the Wind looked at her with eyes full of pain. “It is not our way to speak of the dead. It keeps their spirits from finding peace.” He turned away from the three standing near his bed.

Jenny walked away, a heavy feeling in her heart. Sister Mary
Frances carried a plate to Chase the Wind, who took it with a
murmured thanks and ate a little. Jamie attacked his own breakfast with his usual gusto, sitting cross-legged on Jenny’s bed as he ate.
Chase the Wind laid his plate aside when he was done and closed his eyes, as if to dismiss the group hovering around him. Jamie
tugged his sister’s braid as he went out to attend to his chores in
the barn. He had stopped going to classes after Marcus left; he was
just repeating what he already knew anyway.

Sister Mary Frances went to report to Father Clarence on her
patient’s condition. Jenny puttered about in the office, overcome with a restless feeling that she blamed on the changing weather conditions. It had started to sleet and a cold wind was coming in
from the north, bringing the promise of snow before the day was over. She went back to the infirmary to make her bed, and noticed
the steady rise and fall of Chase the Wind’s chest. She wondered
how he could sleep with his leg up in traction, but decided that
his injuries, compiled with his loss, were enough to exhaust anyone. She picked up a piece of embroidery she had started and sat
in front of the small stove that kept the room warm. She was work
ing at the piece when Sister Mary Frances came back with the
sheriff.

“It’s getting fit to blow a big one,” he said by way of a greeting.
“I need to get back to town before the storm sets in.”

Chase the Wind was wide awake when they entered the room
and anxious to talk to the sheriff.

“What happened to you out there, boy?” the man asked.

“We were attacked by a small group, five of them. They were
after our horses, and we had no weapons.”

“What were you doing out there alone?”

“We were going east, to make a new home among my mother’s
people. Where is my mother now?”

“We buried her this morning—wanted to get her in the ground
before it froze up again.” Sister Mary Frances laid a hand on the
sheriffs arm to still his callous words. “We’ll put a name on a stone
for her as soon as you tell us what it is.” Jenny watched despair possess Chase the Wind as he realized he could not send his
mother to the spirit world.

“Hannah. Her name was Hannah.”

“Did she have a last name?” Jenny squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the sorrow that filled Chase the Wind, who looked at the sheriff
with total disgust.

“I didn’t know it if she did. She had no need of it with the
Kiowa.” The words were sharp, and the sheriff arched his eyebrows
as if he had been insulted.

“Well, there’s nothing else I can do here,” he said to Sister Mary
Frances. “I guess he’s an orphan now, and this is an orphanage.”
The man left.

Chase the Wind closed his eyes, as if just looking around caused
him pain. Sister Mary Frances laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, and there was no response. She left the room, and Jenny went back to her sewing, occasionally rising to check on the patient. He kept his face turned towards the wall, as if trying to shut out the world. Jenny felt for him, knowing that her frustration at being contained was nothing compared to his. He couldn’t even rise from the bed without help from Jamie.

Jamie did not take long with his chores and returned in less than
an hour. There wasn’t much for him to do except make sure the animals were secure from the coining snow. He came stamping
into the office, waving his arms like a windmill and shaking drop
lets of ice from his hair like a dog.

Chase the Wind opened his eyes as soon as Jamie stuck his head
in the infirmary, and Jamie helped him up so he could relieve
himself. The young man’s face remained lined with pain, whether
from his broken leg or grief they couldn’t tell, but Jenny tried to be gentle as they replaced the rigging around the leg that kept it in traction. He settled back against the pillows when they were
done. His eyes remained open this time, focusing on the window
and the light pattering of sleet that was freezing on the pane and
coming together to form large crystals. His dark eyes were filled
with sadness as he watched the world ice over. He would be forced
to remain where he was, in a strange bed, in a strange place, sur
rounded by strangers.

Jamie tugged Jenny’s braid and led her into the office, where he picked up the book and flipped to the page where he had stopped
the previous day. He pulled a chair close to the door of the infir
mary and began to read. Jenny brought her chair over to face Jamie
and see past him into the other room. She picked up her embroidery and went back to work, and when she felt that she had let
enough time pass, she looked up to see glowing dark eyes watching
her as Jamie read from the book.

The wind rattled the windows, the sleet turned to snow, and the
drifts piled up against the walls of the mission. In the infirmary,
however, three people were carried to a tropical island by the sound
of a rich young voice that brought the words to life. Jenny and
Jamie had been hardly aware that Sister Mary Frances had joined
them, picking up her knitting and taking a chair by the small stove,
which crackled and blazed against the creeping cold. The three
blinked like owls when the bell rang, announcing the dinner hour, and the nun went out to bring back a tray for her growing family.

In his bed, Chase the Wind’s eyes searched the room, as if he
had just awakened from a dream. Jamie stood and stretched, reach
ing his fingertips to the ceiling, then bending at the waist to touch
the floor. Jenny picked up the poker and jabbed at the embers in
the stove, then threw another chunk of wood in. Jamie went in to see if Chase the Wind needed anything, but he declined and Jamie
promised to attend to him again before he went to bed. Sister Mary
Frances returned with their dinner, and she stayed with the patient
to help him with his meal while the twins ate in the office. After
they were finished, Jamie helped the nun settle the young man for
the night, then went off to his own bed.

Sister Mary Frances left to take the dishes back to the kitchen.
While she was gone, Jenny changed into her gown and stood in
front of the stove, brushing out her hair while soaking up the heat
before making a dash to her bed in the other room. She wondered if she should find another blanket for Chase the Wind and decided
to mention it to Sister Mary Frances when she came back. She
continued brushing out her hair, humming to herself all the while,
until sparks flew from the ends when she pulled the brush through. She edged her backside as close to the heat as she dared, then made
a run for her bed.

Jenny pulled up short when she realized that Chase the Wind
was standing at the end of his bed, his splinted leg held out stiffly
beside him. Somehow he had released his leg from the rigging. He
appeared to be dizzy; his hands were clutching the bed frame so tightly that his knuckles were white, and his eyes were squeezed
tightly shut.

“What are you doing?” Jenny asked.

“I have to go to my mother. I need to send her to the spirit
world.”

Jenny stepped closer, trying to determine if he was truly awake
or perhaps caught up in a continuing nightmare from his attack.

“Your mother is already with your father,” she said as she took another step closer to him. She caught a flash of silver in his eyes as he looked at her, a spark of some kindred understanding. “She
was with him as soon as her spirit left her body,” she said.

“How can you know this?”

Jenny stepped closer until she was standing right in front of him, and had to tilt her head up to see his face. She realized that he was
the only person besides Jamie who was taller than she. “I know
this because my father saw my mother’s spirit waiting for him when he was dying. He told me that she was waiting for him to join her,
and his spirit left his body so he could be with her.”

“He told you this when he was dying?”

Jenny nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying at the memory of that awful day. She looked up into the dark eyes, which were suddenly filled with relief and gratitude, and saw the tense lines around the eyes fade. Suddenly he lost his balance, and tightened his grip on the bed frame. Jenny threw her arms around his waist,
supporting him until he was able to back around and sit on the
bed. She felt him trembling as he lowered himself, trying to keep the splinted leg from taking any of his weight. She waited until his body relaxed before she took her arms away. His own arm had become tangled in her hip-length hair, and as he tried to disentangle it, the ends flew up in all directions, still full of static from the
brushing she had given it. Jenny finally just pulled it away with her hands, but some of it floated towards his arm, as if it didn’t
want to be separated from him. Jenny quickly smoothed it down,
then tied a knot in the whole mass and flipped it over her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” she asked him when she finally felt that she had everything under control. He nodded. He seemed so weary he
couldn’t even speak. “Lie back and I’ll fix your leg again,” she instructed. He did as he was told, and Jenny gently placed his leg in the brace and pulled it back up into traction. He watched her with
his dark eyes, followed her with them as she went to her own bed.
She bundled up into a ball once she was under the blankets, tuck
ing her feet up into the tail of her gown. “Are you cold?” she asked.

“I’m used to it.”

“Good night”

“Jenny?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Sister Mary Frances returned to find both of them asleep. She
placed extra blankets on both beds before she retired to her own small chamber. Outside, the wind continued to beat against the windows, and the snow piled up, drifting where the wind blew it until there was barely a dusting in some areas and the drifts were waist-high in others. Those travelers that had taken advantage of
the few warm days just past regretted their foolishness as they
looked for shelter from the elements. Those lucky enough to be
inside snuggled deeper under their blankets and came closer to
their fires, grateful for the comfort of those simple blessings.

Jenny was dreaming. She knew she had to be because she saw her
mother and father. The weather was warm, the sky blue, and she was in the middle of a beautiful pond, swimming without a stitch
of clothing on. On the bank she could see Jamie, Sister Mary
Frances, Marcus, Mary and Chase the Wind, all enjoying what
seemed to be a picnic. They were all smiling, and occasionally one
of them would wave to her. Above them in the branches of a tree
sat her parents. They were happy, wrapped in each other’s arms
and looking down on the group below. They looked over at Jenny
and waved to her, and Jenny waved back. She felt her arm move
against the weight of the water, but she couldn’t lift it up where
they could see it. Her father began to motion for her to come to shore, and Jamie stood up and waved for her to come in. She started to swim towards them, but something held her back. She felt as if her hair was snagged on something. She turned and saw Logan and Joe both holding on to long tendrils of her hair, and
they were laughing at her. She pulled her hair away from their
and turned to go in to shore, but before she could move, her was shoved under. She fought her way to the surface, and
tried to draw a breath, but before she could, she was pushed under
again. She reached her hands up and felt a hand on her head,
holding her down as she struggled in the water. Her hair was float
ing all around her and she fought against it, pulling it out of her eyes as she tried to surface. Above her she could see where the water ended and the air began, but it was just out of her reach. Her fingertips just broke the surface, sending ripples in all directions. She could still see everyone on the shore, standing now,
looking down at her, telling her to come in, to quit fooling around, they were waiting for her. She tried to scream for help, but all that
came out of her mouth was a trail of bubbles that skipped to the
surface and exploded, each one carrying the sound of the different
voices on the shore. The hand holding her would not let go, and she felt her lungs burn, desperate for air. She knew she had just
seconds left, and she fought with all her might against the pressure
on top of her head.