The Reverend swallowed, forcing a cheerful expression as he made his way through the door into the classroom, the children seated and engaged in chatter, quickly looked up with mixed expressions.
"I apologize for my tardiness children, I trust no-one was overly upset," Timothy smiled at the responding denial, glancing over the faces of his class, noticing only one absence.
"Now, if you'll remember we're due for our weekly spelling bee, however, given that we've not had any time to practice, I thought we'd postpone it until next Thursday," the Reverend waited for the anticipated approval, "so I'll give you your words to study this week." He began writing the list of twenty words on the blackboard, the children copying them down conscientiously.
"Once you've finished that, children, I thought we'd recommence our conversation of Monday, regarding our play for the town. Having thought about some of people's suggestions yesterday, I think we should all write the play together, as a class, then we can pick people for the different roles, and start rehearsing." Timothy saw Alice's hand shoot up instantly. He nodded to her.
"Well, Reverend, like I asked Monday, we're gonna do this properly, aren't we. With costumes and sets and a stage, right?" The obnoxious girl in the front row raised her head slightly, conveying the seriousness of her question.
"We'll do out best, Alice, but all those things are going to cost a lot of money and we just don't," Lewis, in the back row, cut the Reverend off quickly.
"We could do something to raise money, Reverend. Like sell things, or make things," Lewis' eagerness trailed off; where would they get money to buy the things to sell.
Brian remained quiet throughout the conversation, his head rested in his right hand, tracing out patterns on the desk with his finger. Although usually interested in anything that was going on at school, Brian was unable to distract himself from the reality that he didn't want to be here. He wanted to be home.
"What about an auction, Reverend? Maybe Miss Olive would let us auction dances at the hurdy-gurdy?" Becky, sitting by herself offered, trying to participate, however worried about her best friend.
"Maybe, Becky but then who would the dances be with?" Timothy continued, more fascinated by the problem solving abilities his class were showing that the actual content of their suggestions.
"Well, um," Becky paused, her eyes drifting down towards her desk in defeat.
"What about the townswomen, I know my ma'd do it. If it meant we could do the play." Missy, sitting next to Alice quickly announced, everyone pausing as they realized her idea actually had some potential.
"Missy, I, well, what does everyone else think?" Timothy rested against his desk in the front of the room, his right hand scratching his chin thoughtfully.
"Sure, my ma'd do it too and the more people we get to auction off, the more money we'll make and the better the play'll be," Steven moved in his chair, suddenly enthusiastic about the idea. He poked Brian lightly in the ribs, getting his friend's attention, the pair absorbing themselves in discussion, Steven managing to perk Brian up somewhat.
"I bet we could get lots of women. I reckon Miss Dorothy might if we asked her real nice and Miss Olive and the men who ain't dancin' can do the music," Alice smiled, squeezing Becky's hand in anticipation.
"I could ask my sister, Reverend. She's seventeen. I'm sure she'd go along with it," Charles, a young blond-haired boy sitting behind Brian, contributed.
"My ma, too, Reverend," Stacey, a shy eight-year old girl sitting in the back row eventually called out.
"And mine, too." Brian turned in his chair facing the aisle, an involved grin sweeping across his face.
The Reverend raised an eyebrow in response to the young boy's voice. He had been concerned about Brian's reserved behavior this morning, although with everything he'd been through, the Reverend did not consider this unexpected.
"This is great, children," Timothy began to propose that they end the discussion for the time being, however was cut-off mid sentence.
"Your ma can't do it, Brian. No-one'd bid for her," Cal objected strongly, leaning forward in his seat to make his point, the entire class ceasing their conversation.
"Yeah, we're tryin' to raise money, Cooper, have to pay someone to touch your ma," Benjamin sneered from the back row, the older children gasping simultaneously, the younger children merely observing, not fully understanding what was going on.
Brian scowled at the two boys sitting together in the back row, feeling everyone's eyes on him, waiting for a response.
"That ain't true, Benjamin. She's the prettiest lady in town and she's the best dancer. I bet she'd get heaps more than your fat, old mother, any day!" Brian crossed his arms against his chest, not being able to totally interpret Benjamin's words himself, however jumping immediately to his mother's defense.
"Maybe, could go either way but if we're gonna have an Indian whore in the auction, why not all the whores. Lewis, ask Myra if she'll do it too," Benjamin turned his attention to Lewis on his right side, failing to notice Brian move from his seat.
The Reverend, still perched on the corner of his desk, stood up quickly to cease the conversation, not moving fast enough to stop Brian from darting from his seat to Benjamin's, grabbing him by the front of the shirt.
"You take that back! She ain't a whore!" Brian locked eyes with his tormentor, towering over Benjamin's desk.
Timothy, having managed to reach Brian's side, gently pulled him by the shoulder.
"Brian, hey! Go sit outside for a moment. Just calm down a bit?" The Reverend patted his arm softly, still in shock from Brian's aggressive outburst.
The young boy slowly unclenched his fingers from Benjamin's shirt, glancing from the Reverend to Steven, before dropping his head and moving to the back of the room, slipping out through the door. Timothy's eyes didn't leave Brian until he was out of sight, before turning back to face the stunned class, hands going to his hips as he paced back along the aisle to the front of the room, preparing for what was going to be, a very serious talk.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Sully stirred from his sleeping position, hearing a commotion going on outside. Reaching instinctively for his tomahawk laying several feet from him across the tepee, he pushed the blankets aside, crouching down as he made his way to the tepee flap, seeing Cloud Dancing and several other villagers engaged in a heated discussion with a group of women.
Fastening his belt around his waist, however, no longer being alarmed by the noise, Sully stepped out into the morning sunlight.
"What's going on?" He called, approaching Cloud Dancing, and looked between him and the dozen or so women preparing horses nearby.
"The wives of the dog soldiers want to return to their camp, to prepare for their move." Cloud Dancing glanced back at Sully, whilst trying to contain the women's loud voices and movements.
"Nóxa'e! Néstôxétse, vé'hahtsé máto!" Cloud Dancing raised his arms as he spoke, the women ceasing their noise and listening to him. Hearing his words, they dismounted their horses, calming down.
"Move?" Sully turned his head, slipping his tomahawk back into his belt.
"Yes. Now that the dog soldiers are dead, their women must live here with us. I told them that we will go together, to their camp." Cloud Dancing spoke, his voice matter-of-fact.
"Why are you doing this?" Sully shook his head, his emotions still raw.
"Because, they are still my people. It is my responsibility to see that all my tribe is cared for, even those who abandon our ways. The wives and children cannot stay at their camp alone, and the bodies of the dog soldiers must be laid to rest." Cloud Dancing whispered quietly, Sully frowning, still on edge from the events of the previous week.
"When do we leave?" Sully pushed his hair back from his face, noticing Wolf appearing by his side protectively.
"You will stay here, my brother, with Snow Bird. Your heart is still wounded. You do not need more pain," Cloud Dancing rested his hand on Sully's chest, looking him directly in the eye for several moments.
"My heart will always be wounded. I need to come with you. I won't believe he's dead until I can see it with my own eyes." Sully's bright blue eyes locked with Cloud Dancing's once again, his Indian brother knowing that Sully's mind was made up.
"We will leave shortly. It will take several hours to get there, and most of the day to take care of the bodies. We will make camp there tonight, return here in the morning." Cloud Dancing had begun to inform Sully, however turning as he spoke to address the rest of the villagers.
Sully remained perfectly still, watching as people began moving quickly around him, preparing horses and supplies for the long trek. Seeing Snow Bird nearby, her arms wrapped around her chest, he approached her, seeing the worry across her face.
"Snow Bird, I am sorry," Sully was about to reach out to comfort her, however she quickly raised her head, dismissing his remarks.
"No, it is I who must apologize. It is my people who have done this. I feel responsible." Snow Bird drew a breath, Sully noticing the tears forming in the rims of her eyes.
"No, you have lost your son. He played no part in this," Sully reassured the saddened woman, the pair slowly moving across the camp site, sitting down in front of a low fire.
"But he did. He told the dog soldiers that Dr Mike had gone to the army. That she had told them of the soldier's killings. It was his fault that she was taken." Snow Bird bowed her head, wondering if her friendship with Dr Mike would ever be the same, having no way of knowing if she would even see her again.
"He tried to stop this from happening. Dr Mike told me. He died trying to save her. It was not his fault, Snow Bird. You raised a son with a good heart, don't doubt that. It's just, with all the trouble, I don't blame him for wanting to fight the army," Sully tried to comfort her, his voice soft and evenly-paced. Sully reflected on his words, realizing that truthfully he did not blame the Cheyenne. Whilst Michaela's abduction had served a political purpose, her attack was at the hands of an individual; Indian or white, it did not matter.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Colleen stacked the last of the breakfast dishes on the shelf against the wall, removing her apron and laying it over the back of a chair.
"You should have let me help you with those, Colleen," Michaela looked up from her assortment of medical journals scattered around her on the bed.
The young girl turned around, clasping her hands in her lap with a tired sigh.
"It's fine, Ma, really. I said I'd help around here and I will. You need to rest." Colleen blinked her eyes slowly, pulling out a chair and dropping onto it, with a yawn.
"But you must be exhausted, you've been getting up before me all this week, doing everything, it's too much." Michaela closed the journal she'd just finished, eyes meeting Colleen's sympathetically.
"I can manage, Ma. You just mind what Dr Cassidy said. I don't want you overdoing it." Colleen looked around the room, surprised when she didn't notice any chores crying out to be done.
"Well, I'll take it easy today but tomorrow, you'll be able to return to school," Michaela collated the dozen or so thin booklets into a pile, expecting Colleen to challenge her. When there was no verbal reply, Michaela looked up to see Colleen's eyes lightly closed, her head balanced in her hands on the back of the chair.
Shaking her head with a smile, Michaela slid slowly and awkwardly from the bed, crossing the room to drape her arms around Colleen's shoulders.
"Colleen, go to bed. Just for a nap." Michaela soothed, encouraging the girl to her feet, and guiding her towards her cot.
"Brian, birthday," Colleen mumbled, not managing to keep herself awake any longer, Michaela pulling the pastel-colored blanket over her lower body, stroking her blond hair as it trailed down her back.
"You rest, Colleen," Michaela smiled, the girl falling into slumber within seconds.
Drawing the curtain across the children's sleeping area, Michaela looked thoughtfully between the kitchen area and the curtain, an idea quickly manifesting itself in her head. Pulling her dressing gown from her body and laying it across the bed, she went to the chest of drawers to decide on an outfit for the day.
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X.O.X
~.~
"This really is lovely place for picnic, Matthew, but I not feel right. Is not right to be so happy with all bad things that happen," Ingrid watched as Matthew unfolded the picnic blanket, smoothing it out before gesturing for her to take a seat, as he reached for the basket of lunch.
"I know, Ingrid, but it ain't like that. I mean, us being here, enjoying today doesn't mean we can't still feel bad about Dr Mike, she always says, 'people don't stop living just because something bad happens' and she's right. Here, I brought some of your favorites," Matthew smiled, opening the basket, Ingrid taking several moments to interpret his words.
"Dr Mike say this?" Ingrid frowned, although feeling less ashamed.
"Yup, says it all the time. That you gotta get on with life, that it's too precious to throw away. 'Sides, I wanted to have a chance to talk with you, without everyone around." Matthew set the plates in front of them, Ingrid helping to dish out the food.
"About what you want to talk?" The young girl turned to her betrothed, for Matthew seldom was serious about life. She took his tone in this instance, to therefore, mean a great deal. She watched him idly placing the coleslaw and potato salad onto their plates, whilst grappling with the discomfort he appeared to be feeling.
"About how life can suddenly turn on you. About how you think you've got everything just sorted and now, I don't know. I feel like I don't know where I stand," Matthew paused, aware that Ingrid was having difficult understanding his nuisances, "I feel uncomfortable, at home, like I don't want to say anything because I'm scared I'll say something wrong." Matthew stopped preparing lunch, instead resting his hands either side of him against the soft blanket.
Ingrid tilted her head thoughtfully, considering her response.
"Because she is not your mother, as for Colleen and Brian," Ingrid phrased eloquently, her smooth voice consoling him.
"Yeah, because I feel like I let this happen. The other week, Dr Mike didn't want to go into town, wanted us to all stay around the homestead, but I said it was safe. I said it'd be okay and it weren't," Matthew lowered his head, finally uncovering the source of the underlying guilt he had been feeling these past few weeks.
"Is not your fault, Matthew. Is nobody's fault," Ingrid reached for his right hand, taking it between her two palms, running her fingertips along his flesh, not seductively, but as if trying to soothe someone in pain.
"Sully didn't stop this neither. He was too busy thinkin' 'bout himself." Matthew clenched his hand against Ingrid's fingers, the anger refueling his body once again.
"That not like Sully, he is a good man. He do anything to protect Dr Mike. Why you blame him?" Ingrid frowned, trying determinedly to calm Matthew down.
"Because, when the dog soldiers took her, we were going to go with him to help find her, he wouldn't let us. Maybe we, we coulda stopped this." Matthew narrowed his eyebrows, enjoying the emotional release that directing his anger at Sully brought.
"You not know this, Matthew. I sure Sully did best he could. It no-one's fault, like I say," Ingrid looked away, able to empathize with Matthew's anger, however not being able to offer any solution.
"You're right, just gotta put it behind us all. Move on," Matthew handed them both cutlery, Ingrid beginning her lunch eagerly.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Sully reached for his canteen, taking several mouthfuls of water, as the horse continued along the uneven ground. Slinging the round container back over his shoulder, he squinted, eventually making out the tepees in the distance.
Pushing the horse into a gentle trot, Wolf by his side, Sully made his way to the front of the group, joining Cloud Dancing as the camp in the distance became clearer. Unable to reason with the knots in his stomach, Sully continued, refusing to give into the powerful emotions sweeping over him. A chilling wind swept through his long hair as he pressed on, closing in on the deserted camp.
Sully slowed his pace, seeing the first dog soldier lay flat against the dusty ground, his body partially decayed from exposure to the elements. Sully met eyes with Cloud Dancing, who, although dismayed at the carnage of his own people, recognized that the fate of a dog soldier was usually death.
Sully, Cloud Dancing and the male villagers, as well as the wives and relations of the dog soldiers waited until they'd all arrived in the middle of the camp, before dismounting and beginning the grueling task of laying the bodies to rest in accordance with Cheyenne custom.
Circling around the group of horses, Sully saw the ten or so bodies strewn in the open space, angled so it appeared they'd been sitting around three small fires, all now burnt-out. Water bags, fishing rods and other hunting tools lay between the bodies, one dog soldier positioned laying only several feet from his rifle, his right arm outstretched towards it in vain.
It was at that moment that the noise began; crying, wailing, as the women identified their husband's and father's remains. Sully felt divided between two peoples again at that moment, for he was torn by ambivalence between sorrow for the displays of grief he was witnessing, and spite, knowing that they had been suitably avenged for Michaela's suffering.
Sully was aware of his teeth clenching firmly in his jaw, as he came to the realization that there was one particular body he had not yet identified. Drawing a strained breath, he immersed himself in the sea of howling Cheyenne to begin his search.
Wolf continued at his side, moving between each body, as if to search for any signs of life. As much as Sully did not want to be confronted by the body of he who had committed such an atrocity, Sully also knew his mind would not rest until he could see him – dead – with his own eyes.
He stopped moving after several minutes, having noticed one body slumped on its side, receiving no attention from the Cheyenne women and children, who were still mourning other deaths. Sully knew without needing to see his face that it was One Eye.
He stepped closer, his mouth drawn tightly into a small frown, his eyes running slowly over the discarded corpse. Sully moved his right foot forwards, to the side of One Eye's head, his attention pulled instantly away as a distant screaming could be heard.
Stepping back, to turn and identify the source of the noise, Sully shielded his eyes with his right hand, seeing an older Cheyenne woman, the one who had given him Walks on Cloud's beads many days earlier, appear from within a tepee. She approached Cloud Dancing's side in obvious distress, the two engaging in a fiery exchange. Sully noticed the woman's hand gestures, however not paying much attention until he saw Cloud Dancing, who was unaware he was witnessing the display, turn and look directly at him.
Locking eyes unintentionally with his brother, Cloud Dancing was the one to break the glance, touching the older woman's arm compassionately. Sully, aware of the deliberateness of Cloud Dancing's glance, strode purposefully across the camp, arriving at his side.
"What was all that about?" Sully phrased, expecting Cloud Dancing to inform him quickly and then change the subject. He did not expect the uncomfortable frown that crossed Cloud Dancing's face, or the brushed-off response he received.
"It is nothing," Cloud Dancing replied curtly, busying himself with collecting assorted tools from the ground nearby.
Sully looked between the elderly woman, who had now immersed herself with another group of women, talking earnestly, and his brother who seemed unusually distracted. Sully moved his head to the side slightly, perturbed by the contrasted reactions.
"Cloud Dancing?" He reached for his brother's shoulder, Cloud Dancing instantaneously pulling away from the contact, meeting Sully's eyes once again, this time cold and stern.
"I said, it is nothing," he whispered harshly, his voice low, but resolute.
Sully, turning his head and swiping the air with his right hand in frustration, left Cloud Dancing's side, moving the fifty feet or so towards the tepee the woman had departed from. Wolf moved briskly ahead, his nose suddenly drawn to the ground, picking up a scent and following it fiercely. Sully, about to follow the animal, when Cloud Dancing caught his left arm firmly, was stopped, turning to his brother.
"No, my brother, please," Cloud Dancing forced his choked voice to be heard, being distracted enough by Wolf's encouraging whimper that Sully was able to pull away, his hand resting on the tepee flap, pulling it open as the animal entered first, his paws treading delicately over the soft dirt, nose locked to the ground in fixated tracking.
Sully struggled at first to see, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkened enclosure, stepping into the tepee completely as Cloud Dancing entered behind him. At first not comprehending exactly what he was observing, Sully bent down in response to Wolf's resolute whines.
It was then he saw the animal was pawing, scratching at something only several feet away. Sully struggled to make the item out; however the laced edges sent unequivocal comprehension running through his being, his eyes focusing on the cream-colored garment, his breath held as images began forcing their way into his head.
He clawed at the waistband of her bloomers, his rough fingers scratching the soft flesh of her stomach as she felt her body tense, longing to struggle against the inevitable outcome. Turning her head, her eyes held tightly closed, she felt the garment pulled from her, the soft fabric leaving her lower limbs, ankles and feet before being discarded across the confined space, his attention drawn back to her vulnerable body under him.
Sully felt himself falling forwards onto his knees as the vision played out in his mind, his hand tightening around the delicate material as Wolf pulled away to cross the room.
"Please, do not do this to yourself, it is best we leave." Cloud Dancing brought a hand to Sully's shoulder, his fingers soft against his brother's tensed muscles, trying to draw the white man from his tortured suffering.
"No. I have to know," Sully murmured, his voice barely audible, as Cloud Dancing retreated to the opening of the tepee, watching as the Wolf drew Sully's attention to the pile of blankets in the far-right corner, his whimpering returning.
Moving, still on his knees, to cross the short distance, Sully felt his hand touch the animal's soft coat, Wolf quickly moving away as Sully became aware of the softness of the blankets, gently moving one in his shaking hand.
She spotted the pile of blankets across the tepee, again pulling away from his grasp as she began to fully take-in her fate. Pleading through tears, she received no response, her body falling to the ground below, sensing the softness of the blankets underneath her.
Cloud Dancing continued to watch helplessly as Sully endured the revelation each item brought upon him. Sully's face paled, unconsciously emitting a low gasp as he pulled the top blanket away, his eyes locking onto the pool of dried blood soaked into the blankets below.
Opening her eyes after she was sure she was alone, she moved slowly, uncomfortably, eventually managing to pull herself into a sitting position, aware of the warmth on her thighs. Pulling the blanket from her naked body, she saw the crimson blood on her legs. The reality of what she had just lived through hit her like a bullet between the eyes, her loss seeping away with the blood collecting underneath her.
Sully, his mind and body entranced in reliving Michaela's ordeal, felt his hands run over a small item, looking down, his eyes focused on the rawhide cord he now clutched in his hand, lids falling closed as the visualization again took over.
Feeling the pain wash over her, she fought desperately against the rawhide. It was now tight against her wrists, cutting into her tender flesh as the knife had her throat. She could not move, his weight pressed down against her small frame, her torso pinned to the ground. Pushing her arms desperately against him, primitive survival consuming her rational thought, she sensed his hand on her wrist, forcing her arms against the ground above her head, rendering her utterly paralyzed.
Sully dropped the rawhide at his side, numb by this stage. Wolf's soft cry drew his attention to one final remnant, a small white strip of cream-colored lace. Looking closely, Sully pulled gently at the strands of long auburn hair entwined around the material. Frowning, Sully could not determine what it was, hallucination sweeping upon him once again.
His left hand was firmly pressed against her right shoulder, his fingers tugging angrily at the chemise strap. She could feel her hair being pulled, caught between her shoulder and his overpowering grasp.
His right hand gripped the knife, moving it closer against her throat, his fury at her non-compliance tempting him to do away with her instead. Noticing the look of unparalleled fear on her face, he saw her eyes widen in horror, an expression he'd only seen on her once; little more than a week ago at the Reservation. She felt the blade of the knife leave her throat to arrive against her chest, cutting through the thin material of her chemise in one invasive movement. Feeling the night air hit her exposed flesh, she gasped, preparing to resist, however her eyes were drawn to the sharp blade of the knife above her, the metallic edge glistening against the moonlight streaming through the small opening in the top of the tepee.
Sully was exhausted, his body crying for breath, his energy lost in emotional intensity. Letting the chemise strap slip from his fingers, Sully got uneasily to his feet, and slowly began to orientate himself one again. Noticing the Wolf move across the room to Cloud Dancing's side, Sully lifted his head, his eyes still far away, not recognizing his friend.
Cloud Dancing remained motionless, having witnessed his friend's response to the physical torture he had just experienced. About to take a step towards him, Cloud Dancing paused, aware of Sully slowly rising to his feet. His gaze was still lowered, the tips of his shoes barely touching the blankets in front of him.
"Nésema'háahe," Cloud Dancing whispered, the single word of 'friend' an attempt to ground Sully in reality. The Cheyenne elder waited, knowing Sully would eventually turn to him. He did not expect the rapid chain of events that followed.
Sully, blinking his eyes slowly in response to his brother's voice, felt the ground underneath him for the first time since he'd entered the tepee. Knowing what he had to do, he drew his right hand to the knife in his belt, his left hand moving to rip open his shirt, exposing his bare chest.
Wolf, alarmed by the violent movement whimpered softly. Cloud Dancing nodded, understanding Sully's actions, lowering his head, out of respect as Sully began to let out a low wail. He drew the knife to his chest, sliding the blade across his heart three times, creating small lacerations, running parallel to each other horizontally over the left side of his ribcage.
Unable to interpret the self-inflicted gesture of suffering, Wolf rushed to Sully's side, licking his master's arm as he remained entranced, the blood slowly beginning to seep from the wounds. Increasing the desperation of his cries, Sully dropped once again to his knees, his hands falling out in front of him, head bowed as he watched the blood drip directly from his heart, mixing with the dried blood staining the blankets underneath him.