Running Elk Read online

  Everyone in Virginia had told her stories about how being captured by Indians was a death sentence. When Richard had informed her they were going West, he had promised to kill her if they were attacked, just to save her from the horrors she would have to endure if the Indians took her. Yet even before meeting Running Elk, she’d had a hard time believing the stories. It was alarming to think any humans could be so heartless and barbaric.

  As soon as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the morning, Alexandria saw two Indian warriors. Nothing could have readied her for the sight.

  Her friends were all on the ground. Richard had been shot by two arrows and was lying face down. She didn’t know if he was dead or alive.

  Peter was lying on his back while two Indians poked his chest with sticks. Although there was no blood on the ground around him, Alexandria was pretty sure he had been shot with an arrow or two himself.

  Mary was curled up in the fetal position by the fire. The woman was rocking back and forth, silently mouthing words. She didn’t appear to have been hurt yet; just traumatized.

  While Alexandria was frantically scanning the camp, she saw a third warrior. The two men who were yelling had half of their faces painted red but the man leaning again her wagon face was painted white. His lips were black, and he wore what looked like turkey feathers on his head.

  She was both terrified and saddened by what was happening to her friends. Her hand was firmly over to mouth to try to stop herself from screaming. Alexandria had a very important decision to make. Her options were simple enough. She could try to help. But then she might be seen.

  She could also attempt to sneak away and find Gray Eagle. Maybe he could help get her husband and friends out of the mess they were in.

  Since the three Indians were all busy, she thought she had a pretty good chance of being able to walk quietly and quickly to the grass line and then hide herself before looking for Gray Eagle. Alexandria was sure the young warrior had to have heard the commotion. As soon as she made up her mind, she turned around and stepped out of the wagon.

  No sooner had her foot hit the dirt, than she felt an excruciating pain in the back of her head. The next thing she knew, she was being held up by one of the warriors.

  Alexandria fought fiercely to gain her freedom but the man had a steel grip. After realizing her movements were doing no good, she stopped fighting and hung her head. While she was doing her best to convince herself everything would be fine, she noticed there were more than three warriors. The whooshing sound happened again and she watched as three other Indians showed themselves. As each one rose and hollered, they were hit by an arrow.

  The warrior holding her yelled something, and two other Indians fanned out in the grass to find the sniper. While they were searching, she was forced to watch the two warriors with the red paint on their faces while they scalped her husband. Before throwing up and fainting, she said a prayer for Gray Eagle and thanked God he had been close. The arrows had to be coming from Gray Eagle’s arrow, and she hated to admit it, but she was overjoyed that the arrows made their mark. She knew Gray Eagle was attempting to help her, but failed to locate him in the commotion. The two had become close during their time together. Over the days, he had freely shared many stories of his people and his uncle. All she could do was pray he survived the attack.

  When she was awoken from her daze by being shoved onto a horse, she watched as Mary was scooped up by one of the warriors.

  Alexandria’s head was swimming, but she thought they were moving eastward. The men talked amongst themselves, but she couldn’t understand a word they said. After her captors yelled at her several times, they seemed to realize speaking louder wasn’t helping.

  When the men stopped for water, she was yanked from the horse and Running Elk’s necklace fell out of her dress pocket. As soon as she realized what was happening, she fell on top of it. The jewelry was the only thing she had left. It was her most precious possession and she was willing to die rather than lose it.

  The Indian who she’d been riding with kicked her out of the way, knelt down, and grabbed it. She begged him to let her keep it but was sure he didn’t understand her any more than she understood him. The man laughed and threw it into the river. She rolled over and cried. Losing Running Elk’s gift was more than she could bear. She was truly lost, and stayed in a fetal position until the tears wouldn’t fall anymore.

  As soon as she stopped whimpering, she was placed back on the horse while her captor walked beside the animal. She wanted to run, but knew she wouldn’t get far. As they rode further from her old life, she repeatedly tried to convince herself that Gray Eagle was alive and would be there soon.

  Chapter Eleven

  Running Elk rode day and night, stopping only to tend to his horse. After traveling for several days, he noticed thick gray smoke in the distance. Fear gripped his heart as he prodded the horse to a full run. The smell of the smoke invading his nostrils was not that of a campfire but, instead, reminded him of the smells of battle. Nearing the camp, he quickly realized that the settlers had been attacked and knew it must have been the Kiowa. He could see what remained of the wagons, still smoking, looking more like meatless buffalo than something built by the white man.

  The next thing he noticed was the abundance of arrows protruding from the ground. The markings on the arrows proved to be of the Kiowa tribe. Among them were several that were not Kiowa; they were his nephew’s arrows. Gray Eagle had been involved, and his aim had been true enough to take the lives of more than one of the attackers. The only sound of life in the camp was the hum of the flies and the calling of buzzards gathering in the sky above. Looking over the scene, he found the bodies of the two white men. Their twisted bodies were bloody and beaten; their scalps and eyes removed. His heart ached for Two Fires. She must have been witness to the death of her husband.

  Running Elk dismounted and began surveying the camp on foot, looking for any clue to the fate of Two Fires. The cooking fire still crackled, keeping warm the uneaten food from that morning’s meal. Stepping over the slain bodies of Kiowa warriors, his pride for Gray Eagle brought a faint smile to his face. His nephew had used his abilities well. He searched in vain. Neither his nephew nor Two Fires were there. The signs of struggle near the wagons convinced him that the women had been, taken and were possibly still alive. He knew the attack had happened only hours earlier and that knowledge made him more angry than sad. He could have saved her if he had been quicker. If he had left when he woke from the nightmare, he might have been able to save Two Fires. That knowledge caused him to consider what needed to be done before leaving to find Gray Eagle. He decided that a burial for the men was not necessary as the animals would ensure the bodies were not left in peace for long. Finding his nephew and Two Fires was more important.

  After saying a quick prayer and vowing he would find the woman he loved, he went in search of Gray Eagle.

  ***

  Running Elk searched for three days he located his nephew. The young warrior was weak, but he was alive. Running Elk walked up on Gray Eagle sleeping by the water’s edge. A Kiowa arrow had found its mark in his leg, and Gray Eagle had lost a lot of blood, but he was alive. It looked as if he had broken the arrow in two and pulled it through the wound.

  Running Elk walked with trepidation toward the motionless Indian before kneeling and lightly touching the young man’s shoulder. Gray Eagle was burning with fever. The young warrior was pale and sweating.

  “Gray Eagle, it is Running Elk. Can you hear me?”

  Gray Eagle opened his eyes and smiled faintly at his uncle. “I have not lost her. Just this morning, I saw the party. There are only three Kiowa warriors and Two Fires. They killed everyone else,” he said, sounding as if he were struggling to breath before closing his eyes again. “The other woman was taken but continued to be disrespectful to her captor. Yesterday, he had enough of her mouth and threw her from his horse. They took turns beating her until she expired. Even at that distance, I coul
d hear Two Fires begging them to stop. I also found this in the river.”

  Running Elk opened his nephew’s clenched hand to find the necklace that he had given Two Fires.

  Mixed emotions ran through Running Elk when he held the stone. Did the necklace’s reappearance indicate that Two Fires was alive or prove she was gone? “Gray Eagle, listen to me. You must tell me, have they hurt her?”

  “They are Kiowa; they treat all white women as slaves. No, they have not beaten her. You have to go to her. I just need to rest for a few minutes and then I will follow. We will t—” He did not finish his sentence before he lost consciousness.

  After wrapping his nephew’s wound and ensuring Gray Eagle was comfortable, Running Elk left to gather materials for building a shelter. The resulting structure was a sturdy lean-to of limbs and leaves. He was grateful for the warmth of the night and the light provided by the full moon.

  Building the shelter took longer than he expected, because his thoughts were not on his job; they were with Two Fires. Returning to his nephew, he understood that he had an extremely difficult decision to make.

  Gray Eagle had fallen from a sitting position to lying on his side in the dirt. The wrap Running Elk had placed on his leg was red with blood. He thanked the gods when he saw the shallow rise and fall of his nephew’s chest. Running Elk knelt down and took Gray Eagle in his arms. As he carried him to the shelter, he remembered when Gray Eagle was just a child and he would carry the boy back to Kicking Bird’s tipi after he had followed Running Elk around the camp all day. The memory made his heart hurt. Gray Eagle was like a son to him. He had been active in the boy’s training. The pain Gray Eagle was experiencing had been caused because of his admiration for Running Elk.

  Running Elk knew Two Fires was close, but his responsibility was to his brother’s son. He vowed that as soon as his nephew had recovered, he would go in search of the Kiowa party and put an end to it. He had to help the boy regain enough strength to return to their people. Knowing the decision was the correct one didn’t mean it wouldn’t haunt him forever. It would take many moons before he would be able to start searching for Two Fires again.

  The warrior sat beside his sleeping nephew and lit his pipe before praying that Two Fires remained safe until they could be together again. While he smoked, he placed the necklace he had gifted her back around his neck.

  Chapter Twelve

  The ground was hard underneath Alexandria’s sore back as she stared up at the night sky and attempted to count the stars instead of reliving, yet again, the events of the last few days. A gentle breeze brought with it the warmth and smell of the small fire. Alexandria knew she had been with her captors only four days, yet it seemed like forever to her. The murders she had been forced to watch haunted her every thought. The horrors of her capture only increased her prayers that Gray Eagle was alive and that Running Elk would be there soon. Her hope of rescue was slowing being overcome by doubt.

  The Indians had treated her badly. Bruises spotted her body, and her limbs ached, but at least they had quit yelling at her. Her dress was torn, and the multitude of holes made it look more like a rag. One boot had gone missing days ago, and her hair was caked with mud. For the first time in a very long time, she had begun to not care what happened to her.

  At night, the angry Indian whom she had been forced to ride behind would tie a rope around her hands and affix the other end around his body. She had not slept for more than minutes at a time. As she lay awake, waiting for the man lying beside her to move, she tried to believe Running Elk would be rescuing her soon. It was becoming more difficult with each passing moment.

  Every muscle in her exhausted body tightened when she felt her captor stir. The only thing she was sure of was that she was not looking forward to another day.

  ***

  The Indian untied the rope from his body and stood up. He looked down at the woman lying on his robe. He had many questions for the woman. None were being answered, and he was not known as a patient man. He needed to find a way to communicate with her. After making a noise that was a mixture of anger and irritation, the Indian leaned down, grasped her by the shoulders, and pulled her to her feet. Staring intently, he studied her face carefully and inquisitively. The woman was strikingly beautiful, but her eyes were exquisite. It was difficult not to get lost in them. He appreciated her spirit but was pleased to see that she was beginning to resign herself to her fate.

  ***

  Alexandria stood toe to toe with the man as he looked in her eyes. He was taller than Running Elk and not as muscular. It was apparent, no matter what she thought of the man, that he was a warrior. A man who could, and did kill, with no visible sign of regret. Although she had been terrified at first, her fear subsided as her indifference grew. The warrior seemed to sense her change in attitude and smiled. His face changed dramatically when he smiled. His angry face softened, as did his eyes. The best she could do was stare at him blankly. It was the same look she had tried desperately to display from the moment she was captured.

  Another man walked towards them and pulled her captor away toward the far side of the camp, speaking a language foreign to her. She stood where she had been left and watched as the third man joined the conversation. It occurred to her that, if she was going to attempt an escape, there would not be a better time. Knowing she could easily die before reaching safety was not as much of a deterrent as it would have been a week before. Without Running Elk or Gray Eagle’s help, she was lost. Still, she knew she couldn’t live with her captors. She had seen their brutality firsthand and was sure it was only a matter of time before they bestowed the same treatment upon her. Before her thoughts were completely sorted, she began taking small steps backwards towards a grove of trees.

  The conversation the men were having was getting louder, and they didn’t seem to notice her movement until the man who seized her turned away from the others with a disgusted look on his face.

  ***

  Standing Bear was not in the mood to continue to quarrel about the white woman. He had already decided she was going to live with him in his tipi. His conviction was strong, even if he couldn’t explain why he felt the way he did. As soon as he had an explanation, he would tell the others. He was well aware of the repercussions of wounding the Comanche who had tried to stop the abduction, and of the possibility that the woman would be sought out. A warrior from another tribe, attempting to protect white travelers, was a strange occurrence. It wasn’t one he had seen before, but Standing Bear was still hopeful there would be no more bloodshed. If the Comanche had had any interest in the wagon train for himself, he would have surely made his move earlier.

  Because of his preoccupation with the argument, he was shocked when he realized the white woman was not standing where he had left her. The woman was attempting to escape and, for the second time that morning, she made him smile.

  “She has run away,” he informed the others with amusement in his tone. “I will find her. You two ride ahead. If you come across her, leave her be. This is my problem to take care of. Tell my father I am a day behind you, but do not tell him about her. I am sure he will feel the same as you both do about the situation, so allow me to speak to him first. Then you can say your piece. “

  The other men were already on their horses, waiting for Standing Bear to finish his request. He knew that they were his friends before anything and that they would grudgingly follow his request. He also knew they were concerned about the actions the Comanches would take. The nations had worked many years to coexist and stop the fighting between their tribes.

  Standing Bear watched as they rode away. The woman was brave, but not very good at avoiding recapture by a trained Kiowa. He retrieved his pinto and walked towards the trees. Instead of packing the camp, he left it as it was. He was sure she hadn’t gotten far.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Much to Running Elk’s disappointment, Gray Eagle was no better the next morning. The young warrior had called out many times during
his fitful sleep. Running Elk stayed by his side and slept little through the night. The furthest the warrior went was to the river to gather water in hopes of cooling his nephew’s fever. He was angry about the situation but knew if nothing else turned out like he wanted, he had to keep the young man alive.

  As dawn was breaking, ushering in a new day, Running Elk walked back from the river with a wet piece of cloth. He was surprised when he saw his nephew attempting to sit up. For a moment, he allowed himself to be hopeful that the boy was on the mend, but quickly realized the strength Gray Eagle was employing to make the simple movement. Running Elk shook his head in disappointment and quickly walked over to help.

  “Why are you here?” Gray Eagle asked hoarsely. “Where is Two Fires?”

  “Lie down. You are still very weak. I will search for her once you have regained your strength,” Running Elk explained as he gently pushed his nephew back down. The truth was, Two Fires had never left his thoughts. But he didn’t want to worry his nephew more than he already was.

  Gray Eagle put up a fight in an attempt to show Running Elk that he was feeling better. It was a good sign, and Running Elk said a quick prayer of thanks.

  “Uncle, did I manage to kill any of the Kiowa?” Gray Eagle asked as he attempted to make himself comfortable as possible.

  Fighting amongst nations was nothing new. It had been happening since the dawn of time, but the question forced Running Elk to understand that that way of life wasn’t what he wished for his nephew. The realization was hard to swallow. It was their way of life. Before the white man came, some nations had fought over everything from horses to game. With the incursion of Europeans, the fighting had only gotten more frequent and barbaric. For a brief moment, Running Elk wondered if the nations could put aside their differences if the people might have a chance at fighting off the white men.