Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Marietta could hardly recall a time when she had been more frightened.
Her stomach twisted painfully, and adrenaline pumped into her blood, awakening every nerve and muscle.
Tales of horror, of torture and worse, flooded her mind, and she shuddered.
Thank goodness Grey Coyote had been insistent about letting the pony go.
To think, if this had occurred yesterday, all might be lost. They had only set the animal free last night.
If she survived this, she would not question the man again. Well, she amended, she would not do so in matters concerning scouting and wandering over the plains.
Trying to dampen down her thoughts, she waited. And she waited, then she waited some more for Grey Coyote’s return. Where was he? Was he safe?
What would she do if he didn’t come back to her? She didn’t even want to consider the possibility.
Then she heard a rustling sound—was it the enemy? No, it was the low whisper of a voice, one she recognized. It was Grey Coyote, and he said, “I am here.”
Grey Coyote was scrambling into the buffalo robe, scooting and worming his way up to her.
Soon it was done, and he was level with her, his head slightly higher than hers. Without another word uttered, he pulled her into his arms.
At once, she was engulfed in the earthy aroma of dirt, sweat and masculinity. Never had anything smelled so acute, so good, and although the two of them weren’t safe by any means, Grey Coyote’s presence beside her did much to calm her.
She turned her face toward his so she could whisper in his ear. “What do we do from here?”
“No more talk,” he murmured. “If you must speak, place my hand over your lips, so I can feel them move. Try also to put all thought from your mind, for if you think too much, an alert scout can sense this.”
She nodded, but did so very slightly.
“We will wait here until they are gone. It could be as long as a day, or as short as a few minutes. But hopefully the war party will pass us by quickly and without notice.”
“Yes.” She settled down, trying to remain as still as possible, while she attempted to think of nothing. This last was not easy to do, she discovered.
Suddenly, she heard the enemy. They were riding. However, it wasn’t the sound of their horses she recognized. Not at first. No, it was their whooping and hollering.
There must have been twenty or thirty in their party, she estimated, and they were certainly noisy. What did this mean? Didn’t Indians usually cross the prairie more quietly?
Either they were very bold, she decided, or they were within their own territory, giving them a great degree of security.
If this were the case and the enemy were in their own territory, then because she and Grey Coyote were heading south and west, if she remembered her geography correctly, this war party would most likely be either Lakota or Crow.
Interesting that she had arrived at such a deduction. Perhaps in the short time period she had been with Grey Coyote, his manner of thought was influencing her.
However, Grey Coyote appeared to need her attention, for he was very slowly inching his hand toward hers. Reaching for her palm, he took hold of her fingers, brought them directly to his lips, where she felt him say, for there was no sound, “Breathe without sound—blank your mind of all thought.”
She nodded slightly then strove to forget everything.
It was nearly impossible. Two of the war party had dismounted, had stepped right up to their bush. She could hear them speaking to each other, laughing. And what they did—
Dear Lord. She heard the patter of something wet before she smelled it. The two warriors were clearly answering a call to nature—and unbeknownst to them, they were doing so right near Grey Coyote’s buffalo robe.
Grey Coyote placed his hand over her mouth, as though he sensed she was about to gasp, and he mouthed, “Make no move.”
Too frightened to do anything at all, she neither fidgeted nor spoke. Instead she eased into Grey Coyote’s embrace, and, closing her eyes, she attempted to blank out the immediate environment.
Then came a voice which Marietta had thought she would never hear again. It was a feminine sound, and it scolded and rebuked some unknown source. But though Marietta could little understand the words, she recognized exactly who the person was.
It was Yellow Swan, her former maid.
After slowly reaching out for Grey Coyote’s fingers, Marietta placed them over her own lips and mouthed, “I know the woman with this party. She is a friend of mine.”
Grey Coyote nodded.
“Is she in danger?”
Again, Grey Coyote inclined his head, but slightly. “I understand the words of these people,” he said with lips alone. “The woman has been captured, and they are arguing over who will lie with her first.”
Marietta’s eyes rounded. “They mean to rape her?” she whispered, but she did so without making any noise.
“Hau,” he answered in the same way. “Unless one of them claims her as his future wife, they will each have a turn with her. But even then, her fate may be sealed.”
“That’s horrible.”
He shrugged minutely. “It is the way of some warriors and warring parties. Men are killed, women are mated, but if they survive and do not take their own lives, they are later adopted into the tribe.”
“You sound as though you approve.”
“I do not approve. But, I also know some warriors will do this.”
“Perhaps you may excuse this,” mouthed Marietta indignantly, “but I cannot lie here and let this happen to her.”
“I understand,” Grey Coyote lipped. “I will rescue her.”
“No,” Marietta uttered softly, making no sound. “We will rescue her. After all, she is my friend.”
Grey Coyote didn’t respond. At least not at first. After a brief pause, he mouthed, “It will be dangerous work. We would be required to go into the enemy camp.”
“That’s why we must do it together,” she said, though her words still possessed no sound. “Because it will be perilous, I must try to help. I would be of some assistance to you. Wouldn’t I?”
“You could be, if you do exactly as I say.”
She nodded very slightly. “I feel responsible for her. I brought her here. It is possible she wouldn’t even be in this situation now if I hadn’t hired her to accompany me.”
He acknowledged her with a minute movement of his head, then they spoke no more. Marietta, though perhaps her ideas might be considered na?ve, began to envision different rescue strategies.
At the sound of a high-pitched scream, Marietta jumped.
Grey Coyote held her close, soothing her.
He murmured in her ear, “We must wait until it is dark, and then we will rescue your friend. Until then, we must do nothing, unless we, too, desire to become victims. And then I fear we would be of little use to your friend.”
Marietta bobbed her head imperceptibly. She did understand, but she didn’t like it.
They waited until evening. Sometime during the late hours of the day, Marietta must have drifted off to sleep. She awoke to find herself alone.
For a moment she panicked.
But then, resolving to remain calm, she strove to listen to the environment. Surely there would be a clue as to what might be happening and as to where Grey Coyote might have gone.
It was useless. All she could discern was the noise of the babbling brook, which she knew to be no more than a few feet away from her.
Without warning, something grazed her feet and startled her.
Marietta almost let out a scream, but she caught herself at the last minute. Then came a dear voice, Grey Coyote murmuring, “It is I.”
She sighed deeply and whispered, “You scared me.”
“I am sorry. Ito, come. I am going to pull you out of there. The war party is now at a good distance from us, and it is again safe for us to talk. I have located their scouts, who because of their success, I would assume, have been careless and have left traces of themselves. But none of them are close to us. Now, are you ready to leave your refuge?”
“Yes.”
With one quick jerk, it was done. She was free.
She sat up, looked behind her at the rose bush, then threw open the wrap and came up onto her knees.
Her focus was on the buffalo robe, however, and without giving her attention to Grey Coyote, she said, “We will have to wash this covering of yours because of those warriors who—”
She glanced up and gasped.
“Do not scream.”
“B-but you look…”
“Like a piece of the earth?”
“Yes.”
He grinned at her. “And so will you.”
Gazing intently at him, Marietta wasn’t certain she would allow herself to be painted in mud. Grey Coyote looked rather scary.
He was coated in clay mixed with tufts of dry grass that stuck out at odd angles all over his body, and he resembled a sort of monster—a monster who did appear as though it were a bit of moving earth.
Grey Coyote gave her no chance to contemplate her fate, for he was saying, “Ito, we will save your friend. But first, as I do, so must you too look like the earth.”
Marietta grimaced and spoke without thinking first. “If I do this to myself—make myself into a sort of earth monster—will you still love me?”
No sooner had the words been spoken than Marietta grew warm as a flush of emotion stole over her face.
Grinning at her inanely, Grey Coyote uttered, “I will never stop.”
For a moment, Marietta stood as though thunderstruck. Did he love her? Did she love him?
No. Impossible. To be in love with this man would be to invite heartache, since love would create its own problems. Were she in love, she would eventually desire to remain here; she knew she would. Her own dreams would be for naught, and might she not forever be haunted by might have beens?
Indeed, to her way of thinking, to love this man was a problem.
But she had made beautiful love with Grey Coyote. Could it be she had feelings for him, deeper feelings than she had at first believed possible? Perhaps.
But not love.
Still her thoughts were clouded, and Marietta gazed up at Grey Coyote, to query him on the matter. She saw at once this had been a mistake.