Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) (3 page)

I’m very sick, delirious, but I realize my life will now be measured in hours instead of days. My entire body feels like it’s on fire, sweat drenching every inch of me. Every bone and muscle aches, every breath I take such an effort that it leaves me totally exhausted. By no means do I
want
to die but I know there are no hospitals where I’m at, no cures for my ailment, not even a proper doctor.

Not even someone that cares about me.

“Let the Snake Squaw die,” says a familiar voice nearby. His English has gotten better but I suddenly wish for the old days when I could not understand a word he spoke. “I can always trade for another native girl. I already convinced that fool Clark to take our weak boy and our sickly daughter probably won’t live much longer than her mother.”

Lizette! My little girl has always been a burden to Toussaint – our whole family has for that matter. The only reason I fight so hard to stay alive is to care for the little girl, who seems prone to every possible illness. I can’t imagine she would last long under my husband’s care, though I doubt he would even attempt to raise her. This is the first time I’m glad he shows her such disdain.

“Even if the girl
does
live, I’m sure Clark will find a place to stick her, too,” Toussaint says, inadvertently making me feel better than I have in days.

I don’t see who he’s talking to but I imagine it’s the fort’s lone healer – if you can consider him that. He’s not a real doctor and can’t do much more than pronounce when a sick or injured person has little chance to survive. It’s been nearly a week since he proclaimed I would die. At least he’s remained by my side to give me the occasional sip of water or wipe my face of perspiration.

Unfortunately, neither has helped recently. In rare moments of clarity, I understand that the fever is ravaging my brain. But now that I hear Toussaint admit that he’ll hand over my daughter to Mr. Clark, there’s no reason for me to fight, no reason for me to hang on and try to battle the delusions brought about by fever…

My eyes remain open but I no longer see the dim candlelight flicker against the log walls of my room inside the fort. Instead I have a vision of my deepest desire, the one thing I’ve wanted as long as I can remember but never allowed myself to consider. Before I became Toussaint’s property, I grew up part of the Shoshone tribe. Men and women had very distinct roles but I recall being a young girl, watching the hunters return from a long day on the plains, often hauling back spoils of the hunt that would feed and clothe the rest of us. I always vowed to be one of those providers, even though my older brothers and sisters told me how that particular life was impossible for a girl like me.

But now that my brain is creating its own visions,
anything
is possible. I sprint along the plains without fear, no concern about the wild buffalo that roam free. I see some of the hunters from my tribe, men that run too slow, men that cannot shoot a bow well enough to take down these large creatures. They do not have my speed or strength or skill, they cannot do the things that I can. This is how my life
should
have been.

I suddenly stop when I see a familiar face, a man I knew for only a short time years earlier. I do not recall the name of our guide during the cross-country expedition, but I will never forget his offer.

“Come and join our tribe,” he says, his voice an echo in the wind. “Run with us on the plains.”

I can almost hear the sound of tall grasses
swishing
in the breeze, smell the musty odor of buffalo hide, feel the soft Earth beneath my feet. Whether I’ve ever truly realized it or not,
this
is where I want to be, this is where I’m
meant
to be. A part of me understands this is only a vision but I vow to find my way here if I somehow survive my illness.

Unless I’ve already died and these plains will be my permanent afterlife…

But the sunshine gives way to darkness, the cool breeze turns into heat, the thunder of rumbling buffalo hooves becomes the high-pitched voice I despise so much…

“I may as well consider myself a free man,” Toussaint says.

I force my eyes to focus and his dark silhouette becomes clearer. He stands right beside my bed. I hope that a small part of him loves me, that he will be man enough to grant my final request. I somehow muster enough strength to reach out and grab Toussaint’s hand, much to his surprise.

“I know I’m dying,” I moan in a moment of clarity. I cough for several long seconds, each of my body tremble sheer agony. A warm liquid trickles from the side of my mouth. I don’t need to wipe it away to know it’s blood. “But if you
ever
loved me, or even respected how I tried to be a good wife, you’ll bring me back to the plains.”

For a moment, Toussaint’s hard eyes soften, the drunken cruelty in his expression changes to pity. Though any sort of movement causes me agony, I would gladly deal with it as long as it takes to travel to the plains. But my husband’s pity quickly changes to disgust as he yanks his hand free from mine.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps. “I do not want your sickness on me.”

“Please, take me to the plains,” I plead but he steps farther away.

“I don’t care what you want,” Toussaint says. “I can’t stay in this room of death any longer.”

I don’t have the strength to raise my head and watch him leave.

“Please, sir, your wife is very ill. She needs you by her side,” the healer urges him.

“This is what you said
days
ago. What I
need
is a drink,” Toussaint says.

“But she will be dead within hours,” the healer says as he hurries after him. “Maybe even sooner.”

“Then so be it.”

I hear the door slam shut and I am alone. More than ever before I am alone. I wish I could see my children one more time but can die in peace knowing that the American explorer will make sure they are well cared for. Under the guidance of Mr. Clark, Jean-Baptiste and Lizette will have a greater chance for success in life than if I lived…

My eyes are still open and the candle still burns but my vision fades to black. The fever has finally caused me blindness, a symptom the healer warned me about days ago. My grip on reality loosens and I’m back to running on the plains, which will hopefully greet me in the afterlife…

Suddenly I’m choking and I become aware that this may be the end. But for the first time since I fell ill, I experience coldness.

“Please, you must listen to what I say. Drink, don’t spit it out,” a voice whispers gently in my ear. Even in my sickened state – and even though I’m confused by the oddly lilting accent – I recognize desperation in the sound of this voice.

Swallowing this mouthful of water is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But once I force it down my throat, I’m hit with a chilly blast that makes my entire body shiver. After days of aching heat, I’ve never felt more refreshed. Life surges through my veins and my vision comes back into focus. This is the clearest I’ve seen the fort’s isolation room since I was brought here. Several candles light the room; it’s not nearly as dark as I thought.

“You will live,” the woman’s voice says.

With every passing moment, I believe this is true. But not all is perfect. The surge of energy rushing through me suddenly fills me with pain, though it’s different than the feverish aching I’ve suffered the last week. Every part of me feels like it’s being pulled apart and put back together. I fight the urge to cry out, though; I’m just glad to be alive to feel
anything
. Once the pain subsides I’m exhausted, but not in the feverish way. Instead of feeling exhausted and drained of energy, I feel exhausted and relaxed, like I’ve just put in a long day of walking. In fact, this is as good as I’ve felt in a long time.

“Now you can finally join us,” another woman says.

I look over and see two familiar women, two faces I’ve often dreamed about but never expected to see again. One woman is pale and has short hair; the other is darker complexioned and wears her hair tied back high atop her head. It’s been more than five years since I last saw them but neither appears to have changed – though the long spear and twin blades are nowhere to be seen.

“How did you find me?”

“News of your role in the great expedition has spread,” the short-haired woman says. Now that I see her outside of the darkened forest, she doesn’t look as friendly as I remember. Her hair is fiery red and cut in a butchered way that makes her appear maniacal. She has several golden rings through her ears and a burn mark on her arm that looks too much like a skull to have been caused accidentally. “I knew there was something special about you and our Keeper agreed.”

“Keeper?” I ask, the first time I’ve heard this word.

“Don’t tell her too much,” the other woman says, unfriendly as ever. “Who knows if she’ll be accepted?”

“
I
know she will, as long as
she
accepts
our
invitation,” the short-haired woman says. “Now that we’ve saved your life, will you join us as part of our tribe?”

I have so many questions to ask but the answers seem dependent upon accepting their invite. The women clearly practice some form of magic – how else can I explain my sudden recovery? – but I’m not sure that’s a life I’m ready to choose now that I’ve been given a second chance. My visions of a life on the plains may have been induced by extreme fever but I refuse to simply forget them. That way of life still
feels
like the right choice.

“I’m sorry but I must return to the plains,” I say, hoping they don’t undo whatever they did to save my life. “I must help my people and live the life I was meant to before being kidnapped. I have been a hostage for too long; now I must run free.”

“We’ve come all this way for
nothing
,” the longer-haired woman huffs.

“It wasn’t for
nothing
,” her partner argues. “We saved her life, we’ve freed her from the vile man she calls a husband. We’ve given her the chance to return to her precious plains and have a good life. That is hardly
nothing
.”

The two women turn to leave and I worry that I’ve made a big mistake, that I’ve blown a chance to become part of something truly special.

“Do you think I could find you one day?” I ask.

The red-haired woman stops and gives me a mischievous grin, another clue that she’s not as innocent as I once believed.

“Don’t worry,
we’ll
find
you
,” she says.

The two women disappear. My room is located deep within Fort Lisa but I do not worry about them escaping unseen – they obviously had little trouble breaking in. For the first time in days, I have the strength to sit up on my own. I’m still drenched in sweat and smell awful; Toussaint obviously hasn’t been bathing me during my illness. With every second that passes, I feel a bit stronger.

Maybe too strong. I suddenly hear approaching voices and freeze where I sit, even though a drunken fool like my husband would be able to see that I’m suddenly well again.

“The girl is probably dead by now,” says the voice of the healer. “We will put her in the fire with the others.”

The door opens and the healer’s face drops when he looks at me. My heart is gripped with dread at the thought of Toussaint standing behind him but I don’t recognize the other person out there. For once, my husband’s drunkenness might actually prove beneficial.

“I’m sorry, I don’t need your help at this moment, she’s still holding on,” the healer tells the other man and slams the door. He stares at me for a long moment and I can’t help but smile, especially once he slaps himself lightly across the face. “I can’t believe you can sit up. This is truly a miracle. How could this happen?”

“Did you see the two women who just left my room?” I ask.

The healer looks confused but he slowly approaches me anyway. He places the back of his rough hand atop my forehead and slowly shakes his head in astonishment.

“I saw no such women. You must’ve seen them before the fever broke,” he says. I don’t bother to contradict him; just mentioning the two magic women is probably saying too much. “We must go tell your husband of this joyous news.”

The healer turns to leave and my mind freezes about how to stop him. I take a step forward to stop him and am suddenly standing in front of the door, blocking his path. I’m just as surprised as him by how unexpectedly quick I move. Though the burly man has at least a hundred pounds on me, I’m certain I can stop him if he tries to force his way past me.

“How did you do that?” he asks, his voice trembling as he backs up.

“Please, you can’t tell Toussaint about this,” I demand, my voice stronger than it’s ever been. “He wants me to be dead – he will never let me go until I am dead. We must let him think the worst has happened.”

Life at Fort Lisa is a very male-oriented society and asking such a request from any other man would likely be a waste of breath. But the healer has spent a lot of time with me since I’ve become sick and he
must
have seen the way Toussaint cared so little about my recovery.