One Hundred Horses (4 page)

“Do you mean with the one they call Crow Feather? The one who likes to use his, um, baby maker? The one who looks like me?”

Grey Fox’s eyes widened with surprise. Her innocent question exposed a stark truth. She may not pick him. Maybe she had already found someone who pleased her. That would explain why she refused to acknowledge him unless he spoke to her fist. That must be it. She may have chosen any warrior to father those babies.

The thought started an unsettling wave of jealousy. Frowning, he clenched and unclenched his hands. He had not expected what just happened. Another protective wave trickled over him, making him feel stupid and weak. He was hoping to intimidate her with his revelation, but she had turned the situation around and used it against him. The thought of Crow Feather and his ever-ready baby maker annoyed him. His rambunctious brother would certainly love to use his talents on this unspoiled, yellow-haired woman, and immediately Grey Fox felt yet another round of jealousy. Right at that moment, Grey Fox knew precisely why this woman would need the protection of the lion, since her ignorance of Comanche ways would require the strength of a lion to watch over her. The thought was daunting. He frowned as he realized that he indeed wanted it to be him—and no other—that shared this woman’s sleeping mat.

The golden woman regarded him with a peculiar look on her face. For a brief second, the firm ground on which he stood wavered underneath him. He didn’t want to answer her question as to whom she was to grow her belly for. Instead, he continued to treat her with cool aloofness. He could see her anxiety growing with each passing second. Then she stepped back from him as if he was guilty of something terrible, something that challenged her trust. Her eyes held a vulnerable expression, like that of a child. Grey Fox knew that no matter the circumstances, he would not allow harm to come to her. What he didn’t understand was why. He imagined they were both under some kind of magic.

***

When Sarah finally entered the dark tipi of Red Dawn’s, her nostrils were assaulted by the smell from the old woman’s fire. She also could smell salve, urine and probably death. The place was not decorated as Crazy Goose’s was. This tipi was filled with dirt, old cooking pots and every plant imaginable hanging upside down as they dried.

The woman looking back at her had eyes that were deep set and glossed over in a thick white film. Sarah wasn’t sure what was polite or protocol, so she found a spot to sit down. The old woman just continued to look in her direction but said nothing. When Sarah got up to leave, Red Dawn stopped her.

“Are you frightened, child?” a shaky voice asked. Sarah had to think about the words before she was able to discern what the old woman was asking her.

“Maybe a little,” Sarah responded tentatively. Red Dawn crinkled her nose.

“I know you are. It’s a strange place.”

Sarah shifted her seated position and noticed that the woman had been grinding down beans on a stone. She wondered how Red Dawn managed to do that, since her hands also seemed to be infected with a bad arthritis. It was clear that the old woman could not straighten her fingers, so the chore would be painful.

“There is nothing to fear,” Red Dawn said through a sudden coughing fit. A group of laughing children ran past the tipi outside. They were laughing, some were speaking in Comanche, and some in English, but it became painfully obvious they were daring each other to touch the tipi of the village witch. Sarah couldn’t help but flinch for Red Dawn. Other than being awfully stubborn about her, Sarah found nothing repulsive about the elder lady. Then, as if reading her mind yet again, Red Dawn turned toward the sounds and gestured toward them.

“Did you know children are afraid of me? They don’t come in here. All the Comanche people believe that children are a gift. We must make sure there are many.” There was a sadness to her tone, a loneliness to it that Sarah could understand.

She sighed in defeat as the old woman began to work the beans once more. At home, her mother had often mused about the day that Sarah was to have children and looked forward to when they ran around inside their home. The thought that it would not become a reality for her mother brought the sting of tears to her eyes.

“You think you need to go home, don’t you, child?” Red Dawn asked, seemingly reading her thoughts. Sarah lifted her tear-filled eyes. She sat up straight, wondering if the old woman could be reasoned with. If she could just get one person on her side...

“Yes, I do.”

Red Dawn shook her head sadly in response. “But that is not the path for you”

Frustrated, Sarah shook her head as she squared her shoulders. When she found her voice it came out sharper than she intended.

“I will go home one way or the other. Nobody is going to stop me.”

“You truly are the woman of the prophecy. Strong-willed. Brave. You are the perfect mate for a man such as Grey Fox. Your path is here. There is no path at your home, only borders. You cannot find your path locked up like a wild animal. Your mother has someone. You no longer have to worry for her; he is willing to do this. You need to leave her to him,” Red Dawn told Sarah with clarity and conviction. Even though the old woman’s eyes could not see, Sarah felt that she was looking straight to the heart of her. Somehow, Red Dawn had the ability to predict and see other things, almost like a witch. Bitter fluid burned the back of Sarah’s throat as the impossibility of her reality closed in around her.

“How did you know all that? How did you know my ranch has strict borders?” Sarah’s question was slow to come out, while she studied Red Dawn closely. The old woman went back to grinding the beans. It was obvious to Sarah the work pained Red Dawn. Sarah fought the urge to help.

“You have no mate at your home,” Red Dawn observed.

“No, not yet. But there are cowboys working there; there are soldiers at the fort,” Sarah said, trying to sound hopeful. Red Dawn clicked her tongue, and she knew the old woman didn’t believe her.

“Your path is not with them. Your spirit is much too great,” Red Dawn said as the beans turned to a powder inside the stone macate. Sarah leaned forward to look, astonished that the woman had accomplished her task so fast.

“You will find your mate in Grey Fox.”

A rush of air left Sarah’s lungs.

Sarah bit down on her lip. She wasn’t going to argue. There was a way Red Dawn spoke, as if she saw the truth and never questioned it. The old woman’s peace with her words made her shiver as the air around her grew mysteriously cold. She rubbed her arms to ward off the goose bumps. It didn’t matter that this woman could predict things; Red Dawn was wrong about her
. She has to be wrong about me.

“I don’t understand how I am supposed to be part of this vision you hold for Grey Fox. Some ‘Big Love,’ as Crazy Goose says. I don’t love him; I don’t see myself loving him at all. The whole idea is absurd. I’m an eighteen-year-old girl that has a mother waiting for her at a ranch. I am not anything Grey Fox would even want in a wife. I can’t do the work the women here do, and I won’t lie with him. I refuse to birth all these babies he keeps talking about...” Sarah blurted it all out in one breath. She started to say more, but she noticed that the woman was ignoring her completely.

Sarah put her hands over her face, forcing herself not to give into the hysteria that wanted to bubble and explode. Nobody here was going to listen to her; that was obvious. Tears wetting the inside of her palm, and her breathing labored, she sat up. It could be worse. They could be physically harming her, but they were not. Letting out air, she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

***

Tom looked at Broken Horn’s cabin with trepidation. This, he realized, was exactly how he imagined a cabin of an outlaw would look like. The building had missing and rotted boards, whiskey bottles lay broken on the ground and a pair of skinny mules was grazing on what was left of the weeds. He was still mounted when the two boys jumped off their horses and tied them to the post.

The barrel of a shotgun poked through one of the holes, and a shot rang out. Tom’s horse jumped backwards into an empty water trough.

“What’s that son-of-a-bitch thinking?” Tom shouted as he got Bluey under control and hopped off. Tom drew his gun from the scabbard and found himself in front of a swinging cabin door and the sight of Broken Horn naked, shotgun pointed right at him.

“Stop! Broken Horn, stop! This is Tom Lantham. He’s the Cashion Ranch foreman. We’re here about the Cashion girl that was taken!” Wade yelled out as he jumped between Broken Horn and Tom, who eyed each other warily. Broken Horn lowered the tip of the gun and went inside his cabin. Tom sighed deeply and gave Wade and Gerald a look.

“This had better not backfire on me. You got that, boys?” he said, his whole body growing painfully rigid as he, too, entered into the cabin.

Broken Horn sat at the lone table. It seemed to Tom that the Indian only half-listened to his plight. Tom rubbed the back of his neck, his irritation growing. Finally, Broken Horn looked up at the three men standing inside his cabin.

“If she is still alive, I will find her. We take women all the time in our tribes to bring fresh blood to the children. I’m not surprised. Happens all the time. I will get her. You need more than whiskey and tobacco for this.”

“I figured that,” Tom replied cautiously.

“If I get her, I want some of your land.”

Tom’s eyes widened with surprise. “I can’t do that. It’s not mine to give.”

Broken Horn shrugged. “Seems like a fair trade for a young maiden. Tell whoever that I want three hundred acres to run my own cattle, have my own ranch.”

Tom gave him a startled look, raising his eyebrows. “That’s not going to happen,” he stated, trying to remain calm. This was beginning to feel like a robbery.

“Three hundred acres or nothing.”

Chapter Four

Sarah awoke with a start. The sun was high into the morning sky when someone entered into Crazy Goose’s Tipi, ushering in sweet, fresh air and light. Standing just inside the opening was a girl about her own age, who was smiling wide.

“Wild Flower. It’s nice to see to see you, daughter,” Crazy Goose said as he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

“As well you,” she responded.

Sarah couldn’t help but stare. The girl standing before them was beautiful. Her hair fell past her waist in two thick braids. She was dressed in a soft deerskin hide and had on soft leather moccasins adorned with many beads. She radiated happiness and health. That’s when Sarah also noticed the young woman was with child.

“My grandson moves?” Crazy Goose asked, the pride in his daughter dancing upon his face.

“Yes. He is like a wolf cub chasing a prairie dog,” she said softly. When she looked toward Sarah, Sarah knew she had been caught staring at the girl’s rounded belly. Heat rose to her cheeks.

“Crow Feather has strong seed. This boy will be as fine a hunter as his father someday,” Crazy Goose acknowledged with a nod.

“Grey Fox said I should come get the yellow-haired one and take her with me to the stream to bathe today,” Wild Flower said shyly. Sarah noticed that the young woman continued to steal glances her way. The thought of bathing sounded wonderful, but her anxiety began a ripple of doubt, making her hands shake slightly. Without the protection of the Shaman, what might happen to her out there? What if she did something wrong?

“It would be good to go,” Crazy Goose said to Sarah, reading her thoughts. The two Comanche were looking at her expectantly, so she stood, becoming very self-conscious of her of her appearance. She ran a hand through her hair and felt the stiffness of dirt. The only savage in the tipi was her. Holding her breath, she forced herself to follow the young woman outside, leaving the safety of the tipi.

“I could use a bath,” she heard herself say. Wild Flower stopped and turned toward her with a smile.

“I can help. I’d like to help. I can show you the village and prepare you for your ceremonies tonight.”

Sarah flinched. What about a ceremony? For what, for who? She looked toward the tipi and pulled against Wild Flower’s grip on her hand. The woman gave her a tug and then giggled. “You will be all right. I will watch you. ”

The day was bright and hot, and the village appeared busy with work. Women were bent over and laboring over scraping hides, all seemed content in their task. Some of them tended fires or cooked. Sarah felt the heat of shame on her face, knowing that she had slept most of the morning away. They had stopped in their work, only momentarily gazing upon her. Again, Sarah became very aware of her disheveled appearance. She tucked her head and tried not to make any more eye contact.

When they reached the water, she was dismayed to see other women already bathing there. Wild Flower had hurriedly stripped herself of her wrap and seemed unashamed of showing her pregnant belly and her body to all as she disappeared under the surface of the water. Sarah tentatively undid her wrap and put her foot in the water. She looked up to see that the other women were staring at her. Feeling exposed and judged, she reached down to grab her wrap when an older woman approached her.

“Don’t let those silly heads scare you. Get in the water.”

Sarah forced a smile.

“I am called White Bird,” the Comanche woman offered. She started to wade into the water, then motioned for Sarah to do the same.

The crisp bite of the river felt wonderful as she dipped herself into its depths. She let it flow through her hair and for a moment, she truly enjoyed relaxing the sore muscles and aches she had sustained from her fall from her horse. That seemed like a lifetime ago, but the bruises were still all over her body, and her thigh was still swollen from the gash left by the cat. Sarah let out a long, ragged breath and closed her eyes. She lay back and let herself float. It was amazing to let go of all the pain and the fear and just enjoy the sun and the water. When she lifted her head to see what the other women were doing, she realized she was alone. She had floated several yards downstream from where the other women were playing.

Then she saw him up on top of the embankment. Grey Fox was standing there, staring down at her. Not knowing what to do, Sarah dropped her body under the water. She looked up to him once more and he was gone. Her skin tingled as her throat tightened. Grey Fox had seen her, all of her. Insecurity flamed out red hot. She was so different than the women here; she was never considered strong, even back home. Sadness crept over her as she imagined Grey Fox’s disappointment and disgust when he saw her. Well, good, she told herself. If she was so ugly, then maybe nobody would want to sleep with her. She should be glad, so why wasn’t she?

She slowly made her way to where the other women were splashing when she decided to get out. That’s when she heard the giggles.

Two women were motioning at her and pointing. Not knowing what they were finding so amusing, and with the sting of Grey Fox’s rejection still fresh in her mind, Sarah found that the women’s laughter ignited her defenses.

“Her legs look like bird legs.”

“Poor Grey Fox will be forced to marry her,” the other one acknowledged. Sarah didn’t know what to do. Clutching her shift, she felt her skin burn hot with humiliation.

“She is ugly. Their children will be ugly,” one of them said. That’s when Sarah found her voice. She spun on the two women with eyes full of fire.

“Shut up!”

“What?” the taller of the two women asked as she stood and approached Sarah with a look of pure contempt as her lips curled into a sneer.

“You heard me. Shut your mouth!” Sarah spat. The woman then leaped on her and knocked her hard to the ground, painfully forcing air out of her lungs. Sarah knew immediately she would not be able to fend off the much stronger, heavier woman. She grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled, but it did not seem to slow down her attacker. The other women around them began cheering and stomping, kicking clods of dirt into her eyes, blinding her.

She was being rolled. Kicked by a foot, she ended up back into the water when she felt the weight of the woman push her down.

“Drown her, Little Doe! Drown her!”

Sarah strained to catch a breath. The stronger Comanche woman kept pushing her head under the surface over and over until she was gasping for whatever air she could manage to inhale. Sarah finally was able to bite down on an arm and was rewarded with a second reprieve and another gulp of air. Then Little Doe grabbed a handful of Sarah’s hair and yanked. Sarah screamed underwater and inhaled a lungful of liquid.

***

Wild Flower and White Bird started running and shouting. Grey Fox heard screaming and saw Crow Feather’s mate in tears, holding her belly and panting. Grey Fox knew immediately something had gone terribly wrong and raced for the stream.

From the opposite side of the stream, a little fawn raced for its life. It was running along the other embankment when a mountain lion jumped on its back and clamped its massive jaws around its neck. The fawn let out a squeal as the cat crushed the life from its body. All the women, including Sarah’s attacker, stood in shock at the death. When they saw the War Chief run down the hill toward them, they all took off running.

When Grey Fox reached the stream, the golden woman was floating face down in the water. Horrified, he scooped her up and held her close to him. He carried her to the shore and laid her in the sand. Grey Fox started breathing into her mouth. There was no response. Again, Grey Fox breathed into her mouth. His was heart racing, and cold tremors of fear ripped at him.
She’s not responding!

He shook his head as memories of other women who had passed in his life came back to haunt him. He could not let this one do the same. Terrified, he lifted her and bent her forward while rubbing vigorously on her back. He feverishly spoke a few words in Comanche, prayers for help.

The golden woman began spitting up water and choking. Grey Fox sat her up and again bent her forward. Water gushed from her mouth as she emptied the contents of her lungs. She was struggling for air, crying in pain as it filled the space where the water had been. She wrapped her arms around her sides, continuing to gasp. When the woman started to regain control, she reached out toward Grey Fox, clinging to him so hard her nails dug into his skin. He felt the hard, wracking tremors through her tiny body, and with each passing tremor, his own anger built to a point where he, too, started to shake. This woman was his. Nobody would harm her and not face his wrath. He crooned to her like a child as she continued to clutch onto him. Her cries penetrated into him and squeezed.

Grey Fox wasn’t about to let go.

Sarah turned her face to him. Up close, Grey Fox saw the depths of pain and fear in her green, cat-like eyes. He also saw what he thought was trust, or maybe gratitude. Grey Fox, without thinking, began to stroke her hair lovingly. He felt her stiffen and then relax. Tears welled in her eyes as her lower lip trembled. He reached over to where her shift lay in the dirt and shook it. Then he wrapped her inside it and reached out to remove a tiny stick lodged in her hair. Her eyes continued to pursue his. His stomach tightened and his throat closed off his air, as if he, too, were drowning.

***

Sarah’s body betrayed her. Her mind was screaming for her to stop staring at the savage that held her. Her reason slipped, replaced with a primal yearning. There was safety in the arms of this man. In his eyes, Sarah saw the heart of the human being who had run to her rescue. She needed him. She knew at that moment that she would always need him.

Exhausted, she laid her head against the wide expanse of his copper chest. She closed her eyes, listening to his heart, when abruptly, he pushed her away. The look he gave her was a mixture of apology and confusion. What was he sorry for? That he did not find her attractive? His obvious rejection created a flash of pain and embarrassment. Not wanting to be part of his pity, she jumped up, taking off toward the safety of Crazy Goose’s tipi.

***

Grey Fox followed her, wrestling with his anger and the emotions the woman had stirred up within him. Not since his beloved Moon Water had Grey Fox felt anything but sisterly affection toward another woman. He had done a good job of keeping a safe distance away from advances from other potential mates until now. Now he wasn’t sure about himself. Grey Fox’s mind struggled with worry. Was he truly gaining feelings for this woman, or had she somehow tricked him?

Her scream jarred him back to reality. Stalking Wolf had her by the hair and was viciously yanking, causing her to lose her balance and fall to her knees. He was still pulling as he yelled out to the crowd.

“This woman is a witch!” Stalking Wolf held up a fistful of her hair in the air for all to see.

“She is a witch that can summon Brother Lion to our village!” Little Doe added. A crowd had formed, and they all gasped at the shocking proclamation of Stalking Wolf and Little Doe.

Fury rose in Grey Fox like bile. He reached out for the woman.

“Leave her be, Stalking Wolf. You are wrong. Give her back her hair or I will show you the way myself!” Grey Fox’s temper continued to be challenged when it came to this woman. He held up his knife to prove his words that he would defy all to protect the yellow-haired one. People stepped back to look at their War Chief in surprise.

“She is a witch that can call the spirit of animals to harm us and eat our children!” Little Doe protested.

Grey Fox gave her a cold stare. “You are crazy. You have been drinking that stupid firewater again, Little Doe. She is not a witch and you had no right to attack her!” he told the Comanche woman through tight lips.

“Red Dawn is the crazy one. Red Dawn brought her here. Red Dawn is also a witch that can see without her eyes. I think we should get rid of them both!” Stalking Wolf shouted.

Grey Fox held his knife up to Stalking Wolf.

“Even you should know better than to speak about our elders this way. Even you, Stalking Wolf, whom we accepted into our clan though you are not Comanche, even you should know there is a price to pay for your loose tongue.” Grey Fox dug the blade point into the cheek of Stalking Wolf. The warrior took a step back and the two men glared at each other.

***

“This is my daughter! She is not to be harmed!”

Everyone turned to see Crazy Goose, the Shaman, shaking a spear with a long feathers dangling from its tip. He was pointing at the white woman and he was eyeing all in the village who dared challenge him. There was a deep, stunned silence amongst the crowd. Crazy Goose stood next to the woman, who was holding her head, tears streaming from her face. He had dreamed about her last night, and the dream had shaken him deeply.

This woman, this woman of the whites, will birth the child that will help the Comanche find their place in the new world, which is coming much faster than even I or Red Dawn can predict. Nothing can stand in the way of Red Dawn’s prediction for Grey Fox and this woman. He will have to claim her as well.

The Shaman looked down upon her with heavy responsibility. All eyes were watching him with doubt. Grey Fox came to stand by his side. Stalking Wolf and Little Doe both turned their backs on them and slowly left. The rest were not inclined to challenge the War Chief or the Shaman, but their looks toward the woman became increasingly wary.