Lakota Flower (2 page)

She had heard the words
Oglala, Lakota, Teton,
and
Sioux
from the people at Fort Pierre and from the soldiers before and during their journey from there to Fort Kearny: allegedly fierce warriors who were hated and scorned by her traveling companions, warriors who believed they were “the so-called rulers of this vast domain.” It wasn’t a good sign that he considered all “white-skins” as enemies. Yet, he was talking to her, a mere woman, a foe… Perhaps she could reason her way out of this grave situation, despite the slaughter that surrounded them.

“I’m Caroline Sims,” she began. “I came here to meet my brother at Fort Pierre, but he was sent to Fort Kearny before I arrived. These soldiers were escorting me there. Why did you murder them, and why are you going to capture and harm me?”

War Eagle found himself impressed by her wits and behavior; it was as if she were using three of the Four Virtues that he and his people honored and practiced: Courage, Wisdom, and Fortitude; perhaps she revealed the fourth—Generosity—on other occasions. “You should not come to our land; we at war here,” he told her. “Soon, we ride for my camp.”

“No, I die here or you let me ride back to the fort.” She spoke with false bravado before she could stop the demand from leaving her lips. She watched his body stiffen and his gaze narrow and darken at her words.
That was stupid and reckless; now you’ve provoked him to anger!

War Eagle placed his hands on his hips, glared at her, and warned in a stern tone, “You come easy way or hard way; choice yours, woman.”

Caroline studied him for a few minutes, then realized it was foolish to defy him. If she did so, he could become riled and violent, and he could turn her over to his men to be … “I will come with you, War Eagle, but if you try to harm me, I will fight you to the death.”

War Eagle grasped her true meaning—forcing her to his
mat—which was not something he would do. “Your choice wise, woman.”

Forcing herself to use a polite and soft tone, she corrected him. “My name is Caroline, not ‘woman,’ War Eagle.”

He touched her shoulder with one hand and said, “You woman.” He touched his chest and said, “I man. Why bad to call you woman?”

With his men working quietly, and with her back pressed against the wagon, his body filling her view, and her mind on matching wits with his, she briefly forgot about the gruesome sight encompassing them. “It’s the bad way you said it, War Eagle.” She lowered her voice and said gruffly,
“Woman,
like an insult. My name is Caroline.”

He knew the word
insult,
for he and his people had been ridiculed many times by whites and enemy tribes, and he hated being mocked and belittled even by a foe. For a reason he did not understand, and while being drawn unwillingly to her blue gaze and gentleness, he complied with her softly spoken request. “Ca-ro-line. It hard word to speak.”

“Speak it faster, as one word, not three. Caroline,” she said again with a half smile. Perhaps she could trick him with southern charm!

“Caroline,” he echoed, and watched a full smile capture her mouth and a sparkle like sunshine dancing on water fill her eyes.

“That’s good. Thank you, War Eagle.”

As she smiled again, he surmised she was impressed by him. He scolded himself for being even slightly tempted by her beauty and favorable manner, and for standing there talking with her as if they were friends. He must not allow her to touch his heart and mind in a forbidden way. He summoned a stoic expression and firm tone as he commanded, “No more talk. It wise to be silent; woman not speak orders to man. If you speak or do bad and shame me before others, I punish you; that our way.”

Caroline grasped the sudden change in his mood and the
warning tone of his voice. Perhaps, she reasoned in haste, he was embarrassed and alarmed—even vexed—by his brief softening toward her, the “enemy.” Perhaps Indian women were viewed and treated as lowly and servile beings, as in the Arab countries. For certain, something repellent had assailed him. Minutes ago, he was being genial and kind; he had almost grinned and shown a sense of humor during the amusing name incident. Now, he was acting distant, brusque, and intimidating. She cautioned herself to silence, feigned respect and obedience. For now, that behavior seemed wisest, unless he attempted to ravish her; then, she would fight him to the death with her bare hands! She had not lived to the age of nineteen and guarded her chastity so strongly to come there and be ravished and humiliated and permanently entrapped by what the soldiers had called “savages.” Until a moment ago, she had not believed that word described him; now, she wasn’t certain. She hoped that all he wanted was a slave to serve him and his family, just as unfortunate blacks did for their white masters. For now, she must bide her time until she could escape or be rescued…

War Eagle stepped to the rear of the wagon and looked inside. Just as he had expected, the cloud-colored blanket covered a cannon whose fire—he recalled from past experience—roared like thunder during its use; it was a symbol of the white man’s encroachment, greed, and impending plans. The awesome weapon must be destroyed so it could not be used against his people or their allies. He knew the hard object could not be chopped to pieces with stone or even the white man’s iron hatchets, but he could place it where the soldiers could not find it. After today, a least there would be fewer weapons and men to battle them.

He returned to where Caroline awaited him, her head lowered again. “War Eagle tie hands? Yes? No? You be good? Bad?”

When she lifted her head, her gaze revealed sadness and reluctant compliance. He knew he was to blame for the
losses of her joy and spirit, but he quelled his strange reaction.

Caroline saw his momentary wince as if he felt guilty about hurting her feelings and intentionally frightening her, yet, she knew he could neither apologize nor explain the motive for his sudden sternness. Perhaps he only had corrected his prior slip toward her and was putting things back in the proper order for their captor/captive relationship before they joined the others for departure. Though she had seen his other side and could not forget it, she knew it was perilous to defy or to befriend him before his band. “I will be good, unless you try to harm me.”

War Eagle was aware of her intense scrutiny. He reasoned that she was thinking over her situation and accepting it. “Get possessions from wagon. We ride for camp.”

Caroline nodded her gratitude and obedience. She climbed aboard the wagon to gather what she could carry easily on a horse, which didn’t include her two travel trunks. She flung them open, grabbed a fabric bag, and stuffed simple clothing and a few of her favorite things inside it: the Sims family Bible, several photographs, and a rag doll her mother had made for her as a child. She didn’t gather frilly dresses and hats or satin slippers or thick petticoats, as they would be unsuitable in her new surroundings and role. She hated to leave her belongings behind, but she could take only so many items with her, and those must be practical ones. She rushed because she didn’t know how much time he would give her to make her choices.

At one point, she glanced back at the cannon that was bolted to the wagon bed. She remembered that he had looked inside, so he knew it was there—a weapon of great power and destruction, and perhaps the reason for his attack. War, she mused, was a costly, cruel, and sacrificial event that men believed they must engage in from time to time, no matter how much suffering and loss their families had to endure. Could she blame him and his people for trying to protect themselves
and their lands? She pushed those grave matters aside and returned to her selection task.

When she uncovered the black dress she had worn at her parents’ burial, she clutched the wrinkled garment to her heart, closed her eyes, fought back tears of renewed grief, and took a deep breath. If only they were still alive, and if only that unscrupulous and greedy banker had not snatched away her own and David’s inherited property—home, furnishings, land, stock, even her mother’s best jewelry—to cover a large and alleged overdue loan she could not pay, or if only the grim news had reached her brother in time for him to take an emergency leave to thwart that man’s evil, or if she had accepted William Crawford’s proposal, she would still be in Georgia, safe and free.

Despite her dire straits after her many losses, she could not bring herself to marry William. He was considered by most females to be a good catch, but she did not love or desire him, and she had not believed he would be a good husband or father for her children, regardless of his social status or exceptional looks or charming traits. So she had packed her remaining possessions and left the South to begin a new life in the West with her brother. Now, that chance at a fresh start was also lost to her, unless she could find a way out of this predicament.

Predicament,
her mind scoffed,
that’s a mild word for the trouble and danger encompassing you!

Caroline realized she could not change the past, and must deal with a difficult present. In a way, she had that same wicked banker to blame for her current crisis; if he had not, due to “a generous heart and nature,” allowed her to keep enough money for her journey, she would not be here today. No doubt the grasping beast had done so to be rid of her as fast as possible before others could learn of his actions and view him in the same dark light in which she did!

Caroline put aside the dark dress and those unsettling thoughts and went back to her task. After it was finished, she
replaced the dislodged items and fastened the trunks; why, she did not know. Perhaps it was with the hope that they could be recovered later. She tossed the bulging satchel to the grass and climbed from the wagon, her heart pounding as her unknown fate loomed closer.

War Eagle stood a short distance away, facing her and talking with several of his men whose backs were to her. She assumed he was their leader and was giving them their final orders. She could not prevent herself from staring at him. Strands of ebony hair were tossed about by the prairie wind, as if an enchanted Mother Nature’s fingers were playing with them; the top and side sections of his hair were secured at the back of his head with a leather strip. His features were bold and appealing, accurately proportioned for the size and shape of his face. Even the black slashes on his prominent cheekbones looked sensual on him. He had compelling dark eyes, full lips, and even white teeth. She would guess him to be a little over six feet tall and at the ideal weight for that height, and his age, near hers. His muscular body looked strong and well honed; his flesh, sleek and almost unmarred. She couldn’t guess how much of his skin coloring was due to his Indian heritage or how much was obtained from years spent outside, and now the slowly lowering sun seemed to enhance its dusky shade. When he had stood near her, he had smelled of fresh sweat and animal scents; an odor neither overpowering nor unpleasant. He was the perfect image of a man to be in charge of others and important decisions. He was indeed handsome and virile and no doubt stole the hearts of many females, even if he had a wife and children.

A wife … If one existed, was she being captured to become her slave? If so, how would that woman view and treat her? What would a wife think and feel about her husband bringing another female, a stranger, an enemy, into their abode? From the tepee she had been shown outside Fort Pierre where “friendlies” and “beggars” camped, those hide dwellings had only one room, offering no privacy. At those
dismaying thoughts, apprehension filled her.
Please, dear Heavenly Father, don’t make this situation any more difficult than it already is.

War Eagle saw Caroline slyly watching him and patiently waiting for him, though he concealed that knowledge from her and his friends. He finished speaking with the others, then rejoined her at the wagon, along with his best friend from camp, Swift Otter, who was also a Sacred Bow Carrier. That small group of men were among the highest-ranked warriors in charge of his people’s protection and the most prominent in battles. He glanced at the fat pouch on the ground, then looked at her. “You ride with War Eagle. Swift Otter carry possessions. Come, we go.”

Caroline watched the warrior pass his weapons to his friend, no doubt to put them out of her reach for his safety; they could be tossed back to him if danger approached. Then, he leapt upon his horse with great agility and extended his left arm to her. She grasped it and found herself hauled up behind him. As she had ridden horses and even a mule since childhood and sometimes double-back with her brother, in one lithe action she had tossed a leg over the horse’s rump and taken her assigned place. She straightened the bottom of her dress, grateful it had a full skirt to aid her movements and to allow her to retain modesty. She slipped her arms around his waist, knowing that was expected and necessary to avoid being thrown off during their ride. She realized how close that made the contact of their bodies and how his bare flesh felt warm and smooth to her palms.

Since much of his height was in his long legs, she could peer over his broad shoulder. She saw his friend mount his own horse with her bag and nod that he was ready to travel. As their journey began, she noticed that three Indians were driving the wagons away; others were leading army horses with soldiers’ bodies strapped across them; the rest of the large group waved to their companions and rode in a different direction.

To keep her wayward thoughts off the man before her and her unknown fate that loomed ahead, Caroline viewed the vast landscape of grassland and rolling hills; in many spots, large buffalo grazed in massive herds that stretched out farther than she could see. It was an awesome sight and distracted her for a while.

Soon, they reached a lovely river and followed its treeand bush-lined banks until it veered southwestward. She, her captor, and Swift Otter continued along the water’s course, but the wagons and bodies were taken onward in a westward direction. The largest number of warriors had not rejoined them, but she didn’t know why. She wondered how far away his camp was, as the hot August sun began to set.