Soaring Hawk made no move to duck the blow that came sweeping in his direction. The force of the impact sent him tumbling to the ground, the bitter taste of his own blood acrid and metallic in his mouth. Panting, he hunched on all fours, focusing on the hard earth beneath his palms as the stinging words of his war-chief reverberated in his skull.
“Do you want to live on a reservation, Soaring Hawk? Do you want to survive on rotting meat and weevil infested bread, rationed by the whites who will make you beg on your knees for their leavings? Do you want to see your children die from their sickness? Do you want to speak their tongue?”
Black Wolf, war-chief to this small band of Lakota, circled the shaking man. “You do not answer. I see that I was wrong to choose you to lead us today.”
Soaring Hawk raised his head at once. “No, Black Wolf!”
Black Wolf’s eyes glittered with the light of fanaticism as he took in the surrounding braves, ignoring the fallen man.
“We must show the white powers that we will not be forced off our lands! We will not cower before them, choking under their restraints as a dog on a leash. We will fight!! And when the great Sioux nation sees our triumph, the tribes will fall in behind ME to re-take our sacred hunting grounds!”
Soaring Hawk quivered on the ground as Black Wolf’s attention returned to him once more. When the leader spoke again, his voice was deceptively soft. “Yet you let the white woman and the child live,” he sneered.
Black Wolf raised his eyes to the sheltering sky overhead and laid his hands wide, his voice rising as the intensity of his fevered crusade overtook him. “We must show the whites that WE hold dominion on the plains. We must instill fear in their hearts until they are afraid to expose their soft bodies away from the safety of their pitiful towns! Yet you let the white woman and the child live.”
Black Wolf was suddenly on the ground beside Soaring Hawk, his sharpened blade glistening at the younger man’s throat. “Tell me why I should let YOU live!”
Closing his eyes briefly, Soaring Hawk fought the urge to beg for mercy and instead began a litany to the spirits. When he had joined Black Wolf six years ago, he had pledged his allegiance to the war-chief even unto death. He had thought that his death would come in the glorious battle to retake the revered lands of his people, not at the very hand of the man whom he loved like a brother. Having supplicated himself before the gods, Soaring Hawk vowed that he would face the end of his life with the dignity befitting a Lakota. He raised calm eyes to his tormenter, his gaze firm and unwavering. “The white woman. She is… was… someone dear to you, Black Wolf.”
“You choose to leave this life a liar, Soaring Hawk? Who among the whites would I call ‘dear’ to me? You sicken me with your pathetic attempt to prolong your worthless existence!”
Soaring Hawk’s eyes flashed in defiance. “I was but a boy, but I remember, Black Wolf!”
The young Lakota’s mind drifted backwards even as the pointed blade of the knife pricked the soft flesh of his throat. It was the time before he had joined Black Wolf on his quest to re-take the lands of their fathers and their father’s fathers. A time when he had not yet grown old enough to join the hunting parties of the braves, and had to be satisfied with tending their horses on the great hunts. He had begun making his own arrows the year before, and had already proven to be a formidable marksman. His brother Walks-with-the-Wind had promised that within thirty suns he would have shown himself worthy for the hunt. Later, after he’d revealed his intention to join Black Wolf, Walks-with-the-Wind had renounced him, casting him out with only the clothes on his back and declaring him Unseen.
Soaring Hawk blinked away the memory of his parting with his brother and concentrated on his childhood. Yes, he was but a boy, but he remembered her well. Despite being several years older than he, she had allowed him to join her in the fields when she and his brother had sneaked away from chores. She had soothed his tears and mended both his breeches and his hurt pride when he’d been thrown from a horse. He had even thought that perhaps, one day, she would be given as wife to Walks-with-the-Wind. For she had been accepted as one of their own. Until her betrayal, she was Lakota.
“I remember,” Soaring Hawk repeated softly. “Her face is clear to me. As it would be to you. The woman on the stage… it was Eagle Feather.”
Knife paused in its downward trajectory, Black Wolf regarded his second-in-command with startled eyes. “Eagle Feather?”
“I am certain of it, Black Wolf.”
With a fluid motion, Black Wolf sheathed his knife and assisted the younger man to his feet. Grateful for the reprieve, Soaring Hawk rushed to explain himself lest his leader regret the action. “We took many scalps, Black Wolf, but it was not until we reached the stagecoach that I saw her. She lay underneath the wagon, pinned by its weight. I halted the attack and rode immediately to get your guidance.”
Black Wolf nodded in silent approval, turning to gaze at the copse of trees surrounding the small band. Soaring Hawk was a wise man. Another brave – Snow Deer, perhaps – would have continued with the slaughter, eager only to fulfill Black Wolf’s orders to the letter. Soaring Hawk thought for himself. It was one of the reasons he had risen through the ranks of the modest tribe to attain the sought-after position at his side, despite his tender years. Black Wolf smiled to himself. Many among the tribe yearned to have his ear; Snow Deer was simply the most vocal in his mission to oust Soaring Hawk from his place.
The war-chief regarded Snow Deer appraisingly. “And the child?” he asked softly as he returned his attention to his braves.
Snow Deer glanced at Soaring Hawk before stepping forward, his bravery restored now that the younger man had taken the brunt of Black Wolf’s anger. “The child lives,” he announced confidently. “It was a male child, a half-blood. I thought it might be Eagle Feather’s brother, Two Ponies.”
As Soaring Hawk shook his head, Black Wolf’s eyes narrowed. “Fool!” he railed. “Two Ponies was sent to the spirit plain three winters ago, along with the woman who bore him!”
Gulping nervously, Snow Deer shuffled his feet. “Perhaps—”
“No ‘Perhaps’! Shining Eyes and Two Ponies were killed when the whites brought the coughing sickness to our world! We know this from Standing Bear himself,” he raged irritably, naming one of the few members of their old tribe who still deigned to shared information with them. A look of disgust on his face, Black Wolf dismissed the over-eager man with a contemptuous wave of his hand, pivoting instead to his lieutenant. “What of this child, Soaring Hawk?”
Certain now that his status as chief counsel was restored, Soaring Hawk contemplated the events on the plains carefully. He had glimpsed the child only briefly, after he checked to ensure that Snow Deer’s arrow had not pierced the white man’s body and entered that of the child laying prone beneath him. Soaring Hawk’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the incident, and he reminded himself to speak with Snow Deer about such flagrant waste of arrows. The man had already been shot; all that had been needed was to take his scalp.
Soaring Hawk turned his thoughts back to the situation at hand. His first theory had been that this child was, in fact, the son of Eagle Feather. And if that was the case, was the child’s father not Black Wolf? But he had no certainty with which to back up this assumption, and if he was wrong… he had no desire to face his war-chief’s wrath again.
“Half-breed, as Snow Deer says,” he finally said simply. “And likely travelling with Eagle Feather. The child means something to her, that much is unquestionable.”
Black Wolf nodded again as Soaring Hawk merely vocalized his own inner musings. “Where was this stage headed?”
“Sweetwater.” Snow Deer spoke up before Soaring Hawk had the chance to reply.
Black Wolf’s eyes darted in Snow Deer’s direction as his hands clenched into fists at his side. Sweetwater! The world would be a better place if that filth-encrusted town was wiped from the face of the earth. Sweetwater! He forced himself to relax as he again turned away from his braves to visually inspect the grove surrounding them. The sturdy timber stood tall and proud, not a weakling in the bunch, and none of the branches near enough to tough another. It was part of the reason he had chosen this site as their temporary encampment. Each tree reminded him of himself: hardy and strong, but alone in his bravery and wisdom. As the trees could not touch each other, so too could none of his fellow Lakota – not here, not anywhere – touch him in the matter of courage and intellect. It was why he had to lead the charge to re-align the Sioux nation under HIS leadership.
But… maybe he no longer had to be alone. With Eagle Feather at his side, as it was her place to be, victory for the Lakota was assured. Her presence on the stagecoach was a sign from the gods, and Soaring Hawk had been wise enough to see it. When Eagle Feather was returned to him, he would lead the Lakota to a decisive triumph over the white invaders, vanquishing them from this land. And once the Lakota again held supremacy on the plains, he would burn Sweetwater to the ground!
Black Wolf spoke without turning, his voice calm and assured. “I will go to Sweetwater,” he announced. “And if it IS Eagle Feather… I will take her back!”
It WAS Eagle Feather. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, part of it pulled to the top of her head and then falling in a braid down her back while the rest hung free. It was tangled and mussed now, dirty from the fall from the stagecoach, but to him it shone like golden sunlight. She was plumper too, her curves become more pronounced as her body had shed its last vestiges of girlhood. But it was her. Finally, it was her. He was filled with wonderment at the sight of her pale and still form. His mind drifted briefly to the capriciousness of the gods – to extinguish the life force of the other stagecoach travelers, and then to gift him with the return of the only woman he had ever loved.
He whispered her name again and took another step forward, reaching out to touch her. He had to touch her.
Jennifer stood frozen in the doorway, staring blankly at the spectacle before her. She was delirious. Her injuries had obviously been far worse than the doctor thought. Something was wrong with her head, because what she was seeing could not be.
She shuddered as the realization hit her; when she had hit her head as the stagecoach overturned, she had damaged her brain. She had seen the effects of brain injury – one of her many jobs over the years had been as an attendant at the New Haven Asylum. Her dizziness in the bedroom should have been a warning. This was only the first hallucination. The first of many, to be sure. Certain that the room was about to start spinning again, she reached out blindly for Rachel’s hand and came up empty.
Stunned, she looked wildly around the room. Rachel, she saw, had taken her place at her father’s side. And her father’s gaze was drawn elsewhere. Drawn to… To the vision. How could this be? How could her father see HER hallucination? Her wide-eyed glance took in the other occupants of the room. Teaspoon too was staring at the specter of the Kiowa rider, while Rachel’s hand clutched Tompkins’ arm as her eyes darted between Jennifer and Buck. They could all see him.
Jennifer trembled as a second possibility occurred to her.
She wasn’t insane. This was really happening.
But it couldn’t be Buck. It couldn’t be the man who had nurtured her when she had first come to Sweetwater six years before, dragged there by a militia unit when all she’d wanted was to stay with the Lakota. The man whose own struggle for acceptance in the white world had helped to illuminate her own path. The man who had taught her to believe in herself.
That man was dead.
Oh, it looked like Buck. His deep brown eyes seemed to bore into hers, sinking into the very depths of her soul. His lips moved, but she didn’t understand what they said. The storyteller in her village had told of these things: demons and evil spirits that could possess the unsuspecting, and others who would rise from the spirit plain to harm the living.
This was real, and now this… this thing before her that used her Lakota name…
She turned her attention back to the apparition just as it moved toward her. My god, it was going to TOUCH her…
Mouth twisted in a grimace, Jennifer pulled back in horror, hands up to protect herself as best she could. “Noooo! Niya! Get away from me!”
Buck stopped in mid-stride, his face betraying the shock of her reaction. Niya?
“Eagle Feather—” he began soothingly, trying to keep his voice calm.
Jen wanted to scream, but her fear seemed to put a lock on her vocal cords. Her words came out a whimper. “I KNOW who you are! Stay away from me!”
Buck crossed the space between them in three quick strides as his startled mind suddenly grasped the meaning of what she was saying. Grabbing her by the upper arms, he shook her gently. “No, Eagle Feather! Not Niya. I’m not a ghost!”
Held quivering in his embrace, Jennifer struggled to keep from looking into his eyes. She pulled against him, lost in panic yet wondering why no-one was rushing to save her. Didn’t they see? Didn’t they see what he was?
Holding the trembling girl, Buck struggled to remain calm. “Eagle Feather, I’m not a ghost! I’m alive!” He turned imploring eyes to the other occupants of the room, finally alighting on the Marshal. “Teaspoon…”
“I SAW YOU DIE!” Jennifer twisted away when Buck’s attention was diverted, sending teacups and plates rattling like vengeful phantoms as she fell back against the china cabinet. Hugging herself, she slowly edged towards the bedroom doorway. “You are NOT Buck Cross! Buck Cross was shot and killed six years ago. I don’t know what the hell you are, but you keep away from me!”
Alarmed, Buck ran a hand through his long hair. How could this be happening? After all his searching, all the praying he had done to the gods, even to the white God. Now his prayers were answered, and Eagle Feather was returned to him. And she despised him.
Mindful not to move any closer to her, Buck opened his arms. “I’m alive, Eagle Feather,” he said slowly and carefully. “The bullet didn’t kill me. I’ll show you.”
“Stay away from me!!” Jen cried out shrilly, taking two sidelong steps to the doorway. Three more… three more steps and she’d be free of this dreadful apparition forever
“Eagle Feather…” It was only two words, but something in his pleading tone and anxious gaze made her hesitate. Tentatively she nodded, then watched as he slowly unbuttoned his blue shirt to reveal the scar that Black Wolf’s bullet had left behind.
The wound was puckered and sickly white against his bronze skin. Cautiously, Jennifer reached out a shaking hand and touched his muscled chest, noting with almost clinical disinterest the shallow intake of breath from the man before her as her finger traced the scar with a feathering touch. His skin was warm; his breathing strong and steady. Without conscious thought she splayed her hand against his chest, desperate to feel the heartbeat there. Her hand looked so pale and ashen against the cool bronze of his body. The last time she had touched him this way they had…
Lost in memories of the past and dreams of a future that she’d never thought could come true, Jennifer stared for a long moment before lifting her head to meet Buck’s eyes. Not Niya the ghost come to steal her soul. Not Inyan’s son or one of his minions sent to do her harm. This WAS Buck. Real. Alive.
“How?” she whispered.
Buck took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. She believed him. “I don’t know,” he answered simply. “They had prepared the funeral pyre when the medicine man of the village put a stop to it. He said that he felt life in me. It took many weeks, but he restored my health.” At her doubtful glance, he shrugged. “He’s very powerful. Running Bear says that he had the gift of prescient dreams as a boy. He could always—”
“No,” Jennifer interrupted, backing away from him slowly. “No. You lived… you LIVED…” She shook her head, and this time the room did spin. “Then why didn’t you come for me??”
“Eagle Feather, I tried to find you—”
“Oh, you TRIED?” Jen put in sarcastically. “Like my father ‘tried’ to find my mother and me?”
“Now Jenny…” Tompkins attempt to join the conversation was routinely ignored.
“NO, not like that! Buck protested. “I searched for you—”
“I can’t believe this,” Jennifer shook her head, fighting to hold back the tears. “After what we had, after everything we shared that night—”
Tompkins head whipped up at her words. Everything they’d shared that night. And “that night” had been six years ago. And Jack… Jack looked to be about five years old. The pieces clicked into place. What the hell had that boy done to his daughter?? Tompkins opened his mouth to speak his piece just as Rachel squeezed his arm gently. He looked down into her calm and unperturbed blue eyes. She too had done the math, and her look beseeched him to reconsider the rash words that had rushed to his mind.
Everything they “shared”. And shared meant… well… Buck didn’t go about forcin’ himself on Jenny. If they shared, then… He could hardly berate his daughter for goin’ to the marriage bed before her wedding, when him and Rachel did the same thing.
“Eagle Feather, I tried—”
“Oh yes, I’m sure you did,” Jennifer sneered. “I see how hard you tried. Deputy now, are you? So busy searching for me you managed to find yourself a whole new career.”
Hand outstretched, Buck fought to remain calm as he took a step closer. “Eagle Feather,” he began again.
She pulled away violently. “No! No, Buck! All I ever wanted was a chance to belong. To something, to someone. And I really thought I’d found that with you. I thought that we belonged together, Buck. But I guess I was wrong. I guess I didn’t mean anything to you at all.”
Buck’s hands unknowingly clenched into fists at his side. His voice rose to match hers as he was filled with equal parts of anger and fear. “What do you want from me? I spent months… You meant everything to me, Eagle Feather—”
“EAGLE FEATHER IS DEAD!” Jennifer burst out as the tears began to fall. “She died the moment Black Wolf’s bullet pierced your body. There’s just Jennifer now, and Jennifer doesn’t need you. We don’t need you!”
The sound of the bedroom door slamming shut echoed in the tiny house, seeming to reverberate long into the silence.
Teaspoon finally stepped up to place a comforting hand on Buck’s shoulder. The boy appeared to be frozen in shock, staring at the closed door as though will alone could open it. If will alone could do anything, Teaspoon mused, his own would’ve eliminated this whole messy scene. In fact, his would’ve put them all back six years and let Black Wolf’s damned gun misfire. Hell, if he was gonna wish for misfires, he’d add Neville’s to the list too. And the gun of that devil that killed Noah. He shook his head to clear the thoughts from his mind. What’s done is done; all they can do is get through the best they can.
“Now son, give her some time,” he began softly.
uck pushed roughly away from the Marshal and turned wild eyes to Tompkins. “I always knew you hated me Tompkins, but I never knew how much until today!”
Surprised at Buck’s outburst, the storekeeper mumbled, “Buck… I…”
“You KNEW I was lookin’ for her. I spent an eternity trackin’ her, and—”
“And I didn’t know where she was, son!” Tompkins objected indignantly. “I wanted her back just as much as you did; more! She’s my daughter, for cryin’ out loud!”
“And I loved her!” Buck answered hotly. “And YOU’RE the reason why she can’t believe that I’d actually try to find her. ‘Cause you spent seven years buildin’ a store and a livelihood instead of trying to find your wife and daughter!”
“Now you just wait a cotton pickin’ minute!” Tompkins pushed off Rachel’s restraining hand in irritation, his voice rising to match the Kiowa’s. “You got no right bringin’ Sally into this! I thought she was dead, and what the HELL business is it of yours anyway?”
“Right, it’s not my business,” Buck agreed bitterly. “Nothing about this family makes any sense anyway. You’re all crazy!”
“Well then maybe you should get the hell out of my house before our craziness starts rubbin’ off!” Tompkins took a step towards Buck threateningly as Teaspoon stepped deftly between the two men.
“Let’s just calm down and discuss this like civilized men,” the Marshall suggested quietly.
“It ain’t possible to discuss nothin’ with the likes of him!” Tompkins railed.
"That’s right Teaspoon,” Buck spat out angrily. “I’m just a savage, remember?” Pushing past the two men with a shove, Buck strode furiously to the door, his mind racing as fast as his heartbeat. What did he expect? In her own way, Eagle Feather – no, Jennifer now – was just as opinionated as her father. Sally had been strong-willed as well. After all his searching, did he really expect Jennifer to leap into his arms and cover him with kisses?
The problem was, he did.
Buck shouldered the door open roughly, feeling a perverse satisfaction when the door slammed behind him. Ignoring Teaspoon’s bellow from within, he sped down the three steps to the street, almost tripping over a small boy who was playing in the dirt. With hardly a backward glance at the child, he hastily unhitched his horse from the rail and grabbed the saddlehorn to pull himself atop the animal without touching the stirrups. The feisty mare seemed to sense its owner’s distress and stamped zealously at the hard-packed earth, apparently eager to run off their frustrations on the open plains. Even distracted by his own tumultuous emotions, Buck reached down to rub a hand reassuringly along the animal’s neck.
“Buck! Calm down an’—”
The rider’s eyes flashed as he spun in his saddle to glare at his former stationmaster. “This ain’t your concern, Teaspoon!”
“Buck…”
“No Teaspoon. Leave it.” Buck’s tone brooked no argument.
Unnerved, Teaspoon slapped his hat against his knee and raised his voice. “Stop bein’ so ornery, son! There’s something—”
“I’ll be checking out Independence Rock.” Without another word, the Kiowa spurred his mount to a gallop and set out for the plains.
“—else you should know,” Teaspoon finished weakly. “Or someONE else,” he added under his breath with a look at the small boy who now raised himself from the step and joined the Marshal.
“That man sure was in a hurry, huh Marshal?” Jack said amiably, tucking his precious train into his pocket for safekeeping. He turned questioning eyes to the older man. “What was he so all-darned mad about?”
Putting an arm about the boy’s shoulders, Teaspoon managed a smile for Jack’s benefit. “Nothing you have to worry about, Jack. Nothin’ at all.”
