Reckless Heart (19 page)

For the first time since I’d known Shadow there was a gulf between us, a breach of my own making. I knew Shadow was waiting for me to go to him, but I could not. I felt ugly and dirty and though I washed and washed, I could not wash away the awful memory of that night.

We had not been intimate for a long time, Shadow and I, partly because of my desire to be left alone, and partly because we no longer had any privacy now that our lodge was gone, lost in our last hurried flight from the soldiers.

A week went by. And then another. And then, one cool crisp night when the world was quiet and the midnight sky sparkled with the glow of a million twinkling stars, Shadow took me by the hand and led me away from camp. Under the leafy umbrella of a wind-blown pine, he made love to me as gently and tenderly as ever a man loved a woman. And as his hands touched my flesh, and his whispered words of endearment tickled my ear, all the horror and shame and revulsion I’d felt since that awful night in Stockton’s tent melted away.

Afterward, as we lay content in each other’s arms, I knew a deep sense of peace and happiness, a warm sense of being back where I belonged. Shadow placed his hand on my belly, chuckled softly as he felt his child’s lusty kick, and in that golden moment the war and the soldiers seemed far away. Nothing mattered but the love we shared and the child stirring beneath my heart.

Chapter Fifteen

Despite wind and rain and snow, the soldiers pursued us, relentless as wolves on the scent of a wounded buffalo calf. And now they rode in relays—one group pushing us until their horses tired, then dropping back to rest while the next group took up the chase, and so on. Part of their number always were mounted on rested horses while our ponies grew increasingly weary. Strangely, the troopers seemed to be in no hurry to overtake us, but were content to dog our heels. Shadow conjectured they were hoping to run us into the ground and take us without a fight. If Major Kelly thought that, I mused disdainfully, then Major Kelly was a fool, for Shadow’s men would never surrender. Lean as winter-starved lobos, tough as pte’s hide, Shadow’s warriors would fight to the death. And late one bleak afternoon they proved it.

We were crossing a wind-ravaged meadow up in the high country when Major Kelly caught up with us. Tired and hungry, mounted on gaunt ponies ready to drop, the warriors turned to fight like wolves at bay. Shadow left me in a narrow ravine camouflaged by a tangled mass of dead brush. Huddling there, I heard his exultant battle cry as he joined his warriors. “Ho, brothers! It is a good day to die!” And die they did. Outnumbered by soldiers armed with better weapons and mounted on rested horses, the Indians never had a chance. Thirty of them were killed in the first frenetic clash, half that many wounded. And still they fought, bloody but unbowed, until Shadow called a retreat. The Indians scattered like ashes in a high wind, riding hard for the cover of the wooded hills. Unaccountably, Major Kelly did not pursue us. Perhaps he was leery of searching the dense forest; perhaps he was just tired. Who can say?

Shadow and I rode hard until dark, then took shelter in a cutbank arroyo. Like magic, the warriors joined us, materializing like wraiths out of the thick darkness. There was no graze for our horses, nor wood for a fire.

The men shared what water they had with their mounts, then broke out the last of their rations. Before the moon came up, ten of the wounded died.

Later, when the dead were buried and the camp was quiet, Shadow called his braves together. Where there had once been seventy warriors, there were now only thirty. For a moment he stood quietly before them, his dark eyes touching each solemn face.

“You have fought well,” he said proudly. “Among all the tribes, there are no finer warriors, none braver than those gathered here this night or lying dead on the field of battle. Tomorrow, the soldiers will attack again. I think we will not be here. I think we will slip away, one by one, while it is dark, and go home.”

A quick murmur of dissent rose from the warriors as they realized what Shadow was saying, but Shadow paid them no heed as he went on.

“Our food is gone, our ammunition is low, our ponies are tired. If we split up now, we may yet fight another day. If we stay, I think the soldiers will rub us out.”

“Two Hawks Flying is right,” Calf Running said loyally. “Let us go home for the winter. In the Season of New Grass we can fight again.”

Black Elk rose to his feet. For a long time he had wanted to take Shadow’s place as chief, and now he saw his chance. Head high, he strutted to the center of the group.

“Let us fight now!” he urged. “If Two Hawks Flying has lost his courage, I will lead you!”

“But who will follow?” Calf Running asked contemptuously. “Two Hawks Flying speaks wisdom. We have less than thirty warriors fit to fight. My rifle is empty, and my quiver carries but two arrows.” He grinned, thumping his chest with his hand. “I am as brave as the next man, but not so brave that I think I can defeat the blue-coats with two arrows!”

The warriors laughed, but their laughter was tinged with bitterness.

When it was quiet, Shadow said, “It is good to fight, and you have fought hard and long. But we knew in the beginning that this was a fight we could not win. Let it be as I have said. We will leave this place tonight, a few at a time, and when the soldiers come tomorrow, they will find only the wind.”

Shadow’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. “Ghost Face is coming,” he predicted, smiling faintly. “By dawn, our tracks will be covered with snow.”

There was a moment of silence and though the warriors’ faces remained impassive, it seemed to me that the spirit of each man present reached out to touch that of his brother. I felt a lump rise in my throat as I gazed at that quiet group of men. Warriors all, there was a special closeness between them, a bond of love and understanding stronger than words.

There were no spoken farewells.

Abruptly, Tall Horse rose to his feet, saying, “
Hopo
! Let’s go!” And he left the circle, followed by two Sioux warriors.

Others followed in twos and threes, silent as the dark clouds swirling overhead.

Calf Running and the other Chiricahua Apaches were the last to leave. Gravely, Calf Running and Shadow clasped hands.

“It was a good fight,
chi-ca-say
,” Calf Running said, using the Apache words for “my brother”. And then he was gone, lost in the night.

I was sorry to see Calf Running go. He was a good man, a brave warrior, and a loyal friend. I knew Shadow would miss him even more than I. They had spent many a long night in quiet conversation, reminiscing over the old days that were forever gone, contemplating the future which loomed bleak and without hope.

And so we were alone again, Shadow and I. With the ease of long practice, I quickly packed our few belongings and loaded them on my horse.

The first snowflakes began to fall as we rode out of the arroyo and headed east.

At dawn, Shadow drew rein beneath a rocky overhang. Behind us, a thick blanket of snow covered the ground, and even before we dismounted, large lacy flakes filled our tracks. Cold and exhausted after our long ride, I spread our robes in the driest spot I could find and then, with my back aching and my stomach rumbling for food, I curled up in my robe and fell asleep.

The sun was high overhead when I awoke to find Shadow sitting beside me. Wordlessly, I rose to my feet, and in a few minutes we were riding again.

The days and nights that followed stretched into one long nightmare of cold and hunger. Our horses suffered, too. They were nothing but skin and bones beneath their shaggy winter coats, and I could not help feeling sorry for them as they pawed through the deep snow for grass that wasn’t there. I was hungry all the time, and I wondered how lack of nourishment and rest would affect my unborn child.

Shadow had only three rounds left in his rifle and a handful of arrows for the bow. We ate whatever he could catch, mice, lizards, snakes, and an occasional squirrel if we were lucky. Once, I would have turned away from such disgusting fare, but now I ate it gladly and wished for more.

Like hunted beasts, we fled our pursuers. I wondered, numbly, why they didn’t give up. Why couldn’t they just go home where they belonged and leave us in peace? We could do no more harm to them now.

In late November, we came upon a solitary cabin set in a small valley. We sat out of sight for over an hour, watching, until Shadow decided the place must be empty, for there was no sign of life. There were no animals in sight, no smoke from the chimney.

We rode slowly down the hillside, dismounted, and trudged through the snow to the front door. Rifle drawn, Shadow pushed the door open and stepped inside. I followed close on his heels, anxious to get out of the wind.

The cabin was not deserted. An old man and woman lay snuggled together on a mattress in a corner of the one-room shack. They turned, startled, as I closed the door, and then their faces turned pale as the snow when they saw Shadow and the rifle in his hand.

“Food,” Shadow said. “Get some quickly.”

“We don’t have much,” the man said, his rheumy brown eyes focused on the rifle. “Jest a little bacon and some coffee.”

“Fix it,” Shadow demanded curtly.

The woman scrambled out of the covers, pulling a blanket across her shoulders for warmth. “Don’t hurt my man, please,” she begged. “He can’t do you no harm.”

I saw then that the old man had only one arm, and it was badly malformed, the hand twisted into a permanent fist.

I sat on the edge of the hearth, my robe drawn tight against the cold that was only a little less severe inside than out. There was no furniture in the cabin, everything made of wood had been burned, so that only an old stove remained.

Shadow remained standing in the middle of the room, his rifle unwavering, his face impassive.

Fear made the woman clumsy, and she cut her finger as she sliced the bacon and spilled some of the precious coffee as she put it on to boil.

Soon the little cabin was fragrant with the aroma of frying bacon and coffee, and my mouth began to water.

Shadow and I ate ravenously. The couple watched, silent, as we licked the last of the grease from our fingertips. The coffee was bitter, but it was hot, and I sighed with regret as I drained the last drops from my cup.

The taut silence in the shack grew even worse as Shadow jacked a round into the breech of his Winchester.

“Please,” the woman begged. “We have done nothing to you.” Two large tears rolled down her sunken cheeks.

“Don’t beg,” the old man told his wife. “Don’t you have no pride?”

The old woman turned to me in desperation. “You’re a white woman. Please have mercy on us.”

“She ain’t white!” the old man said with a sneer.

“She is so,” argued the old woman. “Look at that red hair.”

“Any woman what takes up with a buck is no better than a squaw,” the man muttered stubbornly, then quickly shut his mouth as Shadow’s face grew dark with anger.

Laying my hand on Shadow’s arm, I said, in Cheyenne, “Please ignore his words. He is frightened and doesn’t mean what he says.”

“He is like all whites, full of hate for anyone who does not have pale skin.”

“Shadow, please… No more killing.”

“It is no kindness to spare their lives. They deserve to die, and we need the shelter of their house.”

“Shadow, no more killing. It is enough.”

I rarely argued with him, and he did not like it.

“The baby is due any day,” he said in a tight voice. “You cannot have it outside in the snow.”

“I will not have it here!”

“Hannah, be reasonable. Think of the baby.”

“I am, and I will not have our child born in a house where murder has been done. I will not let our child be the cause of someone’s death.”

With a sigh, Shadow relented. “Very well. But I insist we spend the night here. You could use a good rest out of the wind.”

I couldn’t argue with that, nor did I object when Shadow evicted the man from the makeshift bed so I could lie down. The mattress was lumpy, the single sheet dingy, but I didn’t care. It was better than the hard, cold ground, and I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I awoke twelve hours later, feeling greatly refreshed. Shadow had spent the night watching the elderly couple, and he looked bone weary. But when I suggested he get some sleep, he refused, and we left the cabin.

“Thank you,” I said.

“It was no kindness to leave them alive,” Shadow said. “They will soon starve. Or freeze from the cold. A bullet would have been merciful.”

“I could not have them on my conscience. I feel bad enough that we took the last of their food.”

“We have all done things we are ashamed of, Hannah. We do what we must to survive.”

“There is no honor in stealing from people who are old and weak and defenseless. We should be ashamed.”

My words hurt him, and I was immediately contrite. What he had done, he had done for me and our child. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, and we never spoke of it again.

In early December it appeared we had finally lost our pursuers. We rode hard the next few days just to make sure, rising at dawn and traveling ‘til dark, stopping now and then to rest the horses. Once, Shadow spotted a deer, but the range was too far for the bow, and he dared not risk a rifle shot that might attract any soldiers in the area to our position. So we rode on.

A few miles later we drew rein at the foot of a snow-covered hillside. I was so tired and achy I could hardly move. For the first time since I had known him, Shadow helped me dismount. Then, shouldering his rifle and leading both horses, he led the way to a small cave cut high in the hillside. It was just large enough for the two of us. Inside, I spread our blankets while Shadow tethered Sunny to an old tree stump. Red Wind would not stray far, and Shadow left the big stud loose to forage as best he could.

I had been bothered by intermittent pains all that day, and I began to wish New Leaf was with us. The baby was due in a few days, and I was afraid. What if something went wrong? What if I had no milk? What if the baby was breech? There were so many things that could go wrong, and I knew so little.

Shadow entered the cave then. As always, he had only to look at my face to know what I was thinking. Murmuring my name, he sat down beside me and took me in his arms. His mere presence routed my fears, and I fell asleep with my head pillowed on his chest.