Savage Autumn (22 page)

“It’s still autumn, then.”

“I reckon it is. But out here the weather can fool a man. You can wake up to a warm sun shining, and by noon, you can be facing a blizzard. We’ve been lucky so far. This autumn has been a mild one. The winters here are mighty fierce, I can tell you. I hope this fine weather holds ’til we make it to Fort Leavenworth.”

“Is that where you’re taking me?”

“Yep, it were the only safe place I knowed, where Windhawk won’t dare attack. Leastwise, I’m hoping he won’t. You can’t never be sure ’bout him though.”

Joanna closed her eyes tightly, but still the tears seeped
through. Oh, Windhawk, she cried silently. How painful it is knowing I will never again look upon your face. I will go through life wondering what you are doing. I will never forget that for the space of a few short weeks, I was your wife.

She turned over on her side, feeling misery in the depth of her soul. Many times today she had wanted to turn her horse around and ride back to Windhawk. She dared not give in to the weakness. She heard the distant call of a wolf and the answer of its mate. When she was an old woman she would still remember the dark handsome Indian who had touched her life so briefly.

Would the pain ever stop? she wondered. Was she to drift for eternity like a lost soul searching for her true home? She closed her eyes and willed her mind to be a blank. She had no time to look back and regret. She had made the right decision. Now she would live with the consequences.

Farley had found a small abandoned cave where he and Joanna could spend the night.

Joanna sat on a blanket while Farley built a fire. “I’m using only willow branches ’cause they don’t smoke,” he informed her. She watched with interest while he struck a fire-steel against a piece of flint. The branches soon caught, and they had a cheerful fire to brighten the dark recesses of the cave.

“Aren’t you afraid the fire can be seen by…Indians, Farley?

“Nah, that’s why I stacked them branches at the mouth of the cave. You can sleep warm tonight, and there ain’t no reason for you to be scairt.”

Joanna was quiet for a long time, lost in thought. It would be so good to be able to sleep in a shelter tonight. “You know, Farley, it’s funny how one’s values can change in such a short space of time.”

He eyed her speculatively. “In what way?”

She smiled brightly. “There was a time when I was concerned whether to have the cook serve roast duckling or baked ham. Now I just wish I had a warm meal and a good cup of coffee to go with it.”

Farley’s eyes sparkled and he grinned from ear to ear. “You are ’bout to get your wish, ’cause I’m gonna make you up some flapjacks that will just melt in your mouth. Course they would be better ifen I had me some sourdough.”

“I can hardly wait. What can I do to help you?”

“You just sit there looking pretty. I’m fixing the vittles tonight.”

When Joanna tasted the light, fluffy pancakes, she swore she had never tasted anything half so good. After she finished her third flapjack, she felt contented. The coffee was strong, and there were grounds in the bottom of her cup, but to Joanna it tasted heavenly.

After she had helped Farley clean and pack away the cooking utensils, she lay back on her blanket, staring at the walls of the cave.

Joanna had not allowed herself to dwell on Windhawk often, but when she closed her eyes, she could remember every detail of his face. In her mind she could picture him as he always looked, standing tall and proud. He had such a noble spirit. She could never envision him doing anything that was not honorable. Would he think her dishonorable because she left without telling him? She knew had she told him she was leaving, he would never have allowed her to go. She hoped Windhawk would remember that she had told him she would someday have to leave him.

Oh, Windhawk, I do miss you so much, she thought. I believe I shall miss you every day of my life.

Farley spread his blanket out and lay down. He could tell Joanna was having troubled thoughts, so he decided to distract her. “Joanna, did I ever tell you ’bout the winter of twenty-two?”

She turned to face him. “No, I don’t believe you did, Farley.”

He scratched his beard in thoughtfulness. “That were the winter the Indians called,
Ai-so-pwomstan,
which means…the windmaker. That year the winds started blowing in mid-October and didn’t let up nary a bit ’til long into December. What we had was three months of blizzard. The snow fell most every day and it weren’t fit for man nor beast to be out. I was holed up in a cave, pretty much like thisun. I woke up one morning, and to my chagrin, found that I was plumb snowed in. The snow filled the whole front of the cave and there weren’t no way I could dig myself out.”

“That must have been awful, Farley,” Joanna said wide-eyed. “What did you do?”

“Well…I tried to dig out with the butt of my rifle, but it weren’t no good. I was ’bout to give up, when I seed something furry and black in the back of the cave. Now mind you, it had been dark when I entered the cave the night before. Being half froze, I didn’t search the cave none too good. That’s one mistake I don’t make no more.”

“What was in the cave with you, Farley?” Joanna asked, holding her breath.

“It were the biggest grizzly you ever seed. I reckon I woke him up from his sleep. That bear must have stood seven feet tall.”

Joanna sat up. “What did you do, Farley?”

“Well, sir, I found strength I never knowed I had. I grabbed up that rifle and dug out of that cave so fast it would make your head spin. I run out of that cave and buried up in at least ten foot of snow. I couldn’t get out of that snow, but that bear couldn’t get to me neither. Never thought I’d want to be buried alive in snow, but I prayed the snow wouldn’t melt ’til that griz lost interest in me.”

“Why do you like to live in this wilderness, Farley? Don’t you ever yearn to be with your own people?”

“Nope, I ain’t lost nothing in the white world. You ain’t never lived ’til you stand atop a mountain and know you’re the only human being fer as far as you can see.”

“Will you ever be able to return to this land, or did you
forfeit that right when you helped me escape from the Blackfoot village?”

“I don’t reckon Windhawk is gonna be too forgiving. I don’t expect he would welcome me back with open arms.”

“I’m sorry, Farley. You made a great sacrifice when you helped me. I can only tell you how grateful I am. It’s a pity that by helping me, it has cost you so much. I wish it didn’t have to be so. I’m fearful at what Windhawk might do to you, should he catch up with us.”

“I was glad to help you, Joanna. Don’t you go fretting none ’bout me. I have been in tighter places afore, and I always managed to keep my scalp. I ain’t figuring on cashing in just yet.”

“He’s out there somewhere in the dark, Farley…I can feel it.”

“Yep.”

“You don’t think he will catch up with us, do you?”

“Not ifen I can help it. Course, he’s not one to give up easy. I don’t dare let my guard down.”

Joanna sighed and lay down. She was too tired to think. She would be so glad when they reached the fort so she could rest. She thought she could easily sleep for a week without ever waking.

“It’s gonna snow afore morning, Joanna. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Will that be a handicap for us?”

“It could be a blessing ifen it keeps on snowing; that way it would cover our tracks. Ifen it just snows a bit and then quits, we’ll be in a heap of trouble, cause Windhawk won’t have to look for our tracks. They’ll show up as plain as the nose on your face.”

Joanna prayed silently for the snow to fall. “How long will it take until we reach the fort, Farley?”

“Barring trouble, we should be there in ’bout three more weeks.”

Joanna’s eyes felt heavy. Three more weeks to freedom, and then what? She would still have to wait out the winter before she could go on to Oregon. What if by the time she reached
Oregon, her father had returned to Philadelphia? Face one problem at a time, Joanna, she chided herself. First you make it safely to the fort, and then you worry about what comes next. Her eyes drifted shut, and she could feel herself falling asleep.

She couldn’t help thinking how heartbreaking it would be to return home without Tag. Perhaps if it weren’t for the fact that she felt obligated to find her father, she would turn around and ride back to Windhawk.

It no longer seemed important to her that her aunt and uncle had stolen Tag’s heritage since he was not alive to claim it. Her father wouldn’t need her. He was capable of throwing her aunt and uncle out of his home.

Why had she begun to question herself? She had done the right thing in leaving. She would not allow herself to have any regrets. What she and Windhawk shared had been beautiful, but it was over. She would not allow herself to look back, for it would serve no purpose. She had an obligation to her father, didn’t she? Why then did the future look so dark and dreary? she wondered. Why did she feel so empty inside? She brushed a hand over her face, angrily wiping away the tears.

Windhawk dismounted and bent down to examine the ground with an expert eye. The snow had begun to fall heavily, making it nearly impossible to find any signs that might have been left by Joanna and the old man.

That morning he had discovered a cave where they had stopped one night before. He was closing in on them. The old man was sly and wily, and at times Windhawk would lose the trail altogether.

Windhawk had ridden day and night, switching from one horse to the other. He didn’t feel the fatigue: All he could think about was the fact that Joanna had betrayed him. He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on what he would do to Joanna once he caught up with her…he was too angry. He only knew that the old man would die.

They were no more than a day ahead of him now. He had
one slight advantage they couldn’t know about…he knew where they were going. The old man was taking Joanna to the fort of the long knives. If the snow would stop falling, they would be unable to hide their tracks, and he would catch up with them by tomorrow night.

Windhawk remounted and nudged his horse forward. The old man had cleverly taken the rocky trail, but Farley had outsmarted himself. He had not known that Windhawk knew a shortcut across the valley.

The next day the snow continued to fall. By late afternoon the wind had blown it into high snowdrifts, making it hard for the horses to plod through. Farley could see that the horses had been pushed to the limit. He didn’t fancy walking to Fort Leavenworth, so he called for Joanna to dismount.

“Like as not, we won’t get no farther today, Joanna. We might as well set up camp for the night. The weather don’t seem to want to let up, and them horses are just plumb tuckered out.”

Joanna slipped off her mount, grateful for her tall moccasins which protected her legs from the deep snow. She doubted that Windhawk would allow the snow to slow him down. She feared that if they stopped now, he would gain on them.

“What of Windhawk? Shouldn’t we push on, Farley? I don’t think he will allow this storm to deter him.”

“That may be, but he ain’t ’bout to pick up our trail in this snow.”

In no time at all, Farley had stretched a heavy bearskin across four poles he had hammered into the frozen ground. He motioned for Joanna to crawl underneath the shelter. Farley had given her one of his heavy beaver jackets and she was more than grateful for its warmth.

She watched as the seemingly never-ending snow-flakes drifted downward. The strong wind whirled the white flakes around, pelting them into her face and making visibility impossible.

Windhawk was out there somewhere, she thought. Perhaps he was a day, or even a week behind them, but he would come.

Joanna shivered and huddled beneath a warm buffalo robe. It was as if she could feel Windhawk’s nearness. She closed her eyes, not knowing if she wanted him to find her or not. At first she had been so sure she was doing the right thing by leaving him. Now she wasn’t so confident.

Farley tromped out of the woods and stood over Joanna’s sleeping form. She had been a mighty brave little lady, not once complaining when the going got rough. She was such a beautiful girl, too delicate and frail to be exposed to all the hardships she had been forced to endure. She seemed to bring out the best in him. He wanted nothing more than to see her back safely where she belonged. He knew very little about her life, or just where she had come from.

Joanna felt Farley watching her. Her eyes opened and she favored him with a smile. Sitting up, she made room for him to join her under the shelter.

They both stared out into the swirling world of whiteness. “Have you ever seed any snowstorm like thisun?” he inquired.

“No, but I was told by my father that in the Oregon Territory the winters are often severe.”

Now was his chance to find out more about her, he thought. “Was you on your way to your pa in Oregon when the wagon train was raided?” he asked.

“Yes, my father’s name is Russell James. Because of circumstances that I don’t want to go into, my brother, Tag, and I were on our way to join him.”

Farley saw the tears gather in her blue eyes, and he thought if he was going to tell her about her brother still being alive, now would be the time.

“It has been very difficult for me to accept Tag’s…death. He…he was such a wonderful boy. He was always so full of life and curiosity.”

Farley felt choked up and cleared his throat. “Have you come to terms with him being dead?”

“Yes, I had no choice.”

No, he thought, he would not tell her just yet that her
brother was still alive. If she had already begun to accept the boy’s death, it would be a double blow to her if she found out he was a prisoner.

The gale force winds whistled and howled. The reins of the horses had been tied to a tree so they wouldn’t wander off to be lost in the snowstorm. Every so often Farley would check on them to make sure they didn’t freeze to death.

Farley looked speculatively skyward. These storms could sometimes last for days, or even weeks. Tomorrow they would have to push on, regardless of the weather. Farley knew Windhawk wouldn’t allow the storm to slow him down. If he had to make his choice about which danger he would rather face—being lost in the storm, or facing an angry Windhawk—he would rather choose the storm.

Windhawk pushed onward through the blinding snow. He had some built-in primitive instinct that kept him from losing his way. This was his land and he knew every mountain and stream. He couldn’t underestimate the old trapper; however, he also knew the land well. Windhawk was trusting Joanna to slow the old man down.

The next morning the snowstorm still raged on. Joanna and Farley made very little progress since the horses were having such a difficult time plodding through the high snowdrifts. They were forced to stop every so often to rest the exhausted animals.

Joanna was beginning to think she would never feel warm again. Her hands felt numb and frozen. Her cheeks were red and stung painfully from the sharp particles of frozen snow the wind hurled against her.

They had scarcely gone any distance when Farley decided that they could go no farther until the storm let up. He had unloaded the horses and tethered them near the camp site.

Joanna watched Farley driving stakes into the frozen ground, so he could stretch a buffalo hide to make a shelter for them to escape from the storm. She was puzzled when she heard a loud
clinking sound. She watched in confusion as Farley’s face paled, and he fell forward into the snow, gasping in pain. She ran to him and knelt down beside him.