Disclaimer: See part one. Paiute language is in Lucinda Handwriting font.
Thank you to all reviewers, and I hope that you continue to enjoy.
Sacrifices Part III
Going Home
By: Becky H.
That smell…the familiar smell of burning flesh and hair…but the
screams. Was it branding season? Who was screaming? And why am I on the ground? Ben
raised his head, and memory crashed upon him.
Abigail sat next to him, rocking as she wailed.
Paiutes! JOSEPH!!..No!…no..He stumbled upright, ignoring Abby’s grasping
hands, and fell to his knees near Adam and Hoss. So much blood…The sight of their
clasped hands unmanned him, and he collapsed, sobbing.
A cold part of his mind, one he hadn’t needed in many years and hoped
never to need again, woke up and began speaking. Get control of yourself! Your sons need
you. Joseph is dead—beyond your
help. Your responsibility is to the
living.
“Adam?…Hoss?”
He couldn’t seem to still his trembling hands as he touched his
boys. Still alive! Abby was hysterical, but also alive. Ben resolutely ignored the other ghastly
details his brain had absorbed upon awakening.
But the glimpse of the smoldering fire was emblazoned on his heart. The knife coming down,
flashing in the sun…his youngest son’s cries. Boot heels protruding from a rough fire pit,
flashes of white, the bloody knife lying next to the pyre…oh Joseph! He ruthlessly shoved the images away in his
rush to save the rest of his family. He
would return later to collect what lay in the fire pit. Yet, for right now, his obligation was to the
living.
Movement under him, warmth at his back, the steady
thump of a heartbeat, and the gentle rise and fall of a man breathing. He shivered
and moaned as the pain shot through his head.
“..pa..Pa, it
hurts…”
Red Eagle’s arm tightened, drawing the boy closer still. Pain-dulled eyes, fluttered half-open, then
closed as the boy moved his head slightly, relaxing as he pressed his ear
against the man’s chest.
The boy’s movement, the trust in his eyes broke something open within
Red Eagle’s heart. “You will be my
son, now. If my Raven
will have you.”
He Thunders overheard his
chief’s whisper to the captive.
“You will have him in your lodge? He will be family now?”
“Yes.”
“It will cause…difficulties with the
young braves..”
“They will forget…and come to accept
him.”
He Thunders looked dubious, but he kept his own counsel. Red Eagle would have to discover for himself
how high the feelings ran against whites among the people. Red Eagle is a well-respected chief, and
it was his only child, his son, who paid the greatest price—perhaps his view
will prevail. Time will tell.
Red Eagle signaled his friend to take the lead. They would travel single-file up through the
narrow draw and then climb to the high plateau.
He had made the decision to move their camp three times this last
winter, and now that it was spring, he would move his people higher up into the
mountains. The hunting was still good,
and they would be further still from the valley-dwelling white men. His leadership had spared his people the
decimation through disease that other valley Paiute
tribes had suffered. I will protect
my tribe, my people. His arm pulled the boy closer. I will protect all that is mine.
Ben righted the buggy with the help of Cochise. His heart ached when he touched Joe’s
mount. My son…my baby, lost to me…But
he needed the horse’s strength to lift the buggy off of John.
He had led Abigail to sit next to Adam and Hoss, who were now both
awake—after a fashion. Hoss’s head had been creased by an arrow, and he was mostly
aware, but in great pain. Adam had two
wounds, one to his left shoulder and one in his right calf. Both arrows had broken off and would need to
be dug out. Ben shuddered at the
thought. So much pain,
and more to come.
Adam’s weak voice broke into his thoughts. “Pa…Uncle John—is he all right?”
“I think so, son. Just unconscious. I
didn’t feel any broken bones. He must
have hit his head when the buggy flipped.
There’s blood in his hair.”
Adam closed his eyes. He was so
tired. He knew that part of his
weariness was blood loss, but he had a feeling of urgency as well. He had to tell Pa something…What was it? He tried to concentrate. Something about Joe…
“Aunt Abigail.
Get
It was full dark when the band of warriors entered the high meadow
encampment. By the light of the central
fire, Red Eagle watched as his braves dispersed, mixing into family groups and
murmuring quiet greetings. He had
brought them back safely. None were
missing.
He heard the exclamations of delight as the three babies, born in their
absence, were held for the first time by their proud fathers.
Raising his voice, he quieted them.
“We
will hunt tomorrow and then have a feast to welcome the new members of our
tribe.”
He did not explain the bundle in his own arms, sure
that those who had just returned would spread the word. By morning, every one would know what he had
done—and not done. He turned his
face toward his own lodge where Raven waited.
Ben watched as his hands untangled the harness and checked over the
team. The fingers moved as if they belonged to someone else. He felt detached from the hands running over
the horses’ legs. Just bruised and
spooked, thank God. How would I have
managed to get everyone home with no team for the buggy?
Somehow, his hands continued on even while his mind
screamed accusingly at him. Your son
is dead! His burnt remains are right
over there—look at all that’s left of him.
You failed! Failed to keep your boy safe. He pushed the thoughts away, and
struggled to concentrate on what needed doing.
He managed to get John into the front and leaned him against the now
silent Abby. Throwing aside the luggage,
he propped Adam and Hoss in the back, happy that Hoss was conscious enough to
follow his simple commands. Adam’s
still, white face mocked him. So much blood on his oldest son. Hang on Adam…so much blood.
As he tied Cochise to the back rail, he saw movement over by the
rocks. He froze. No weapons! I must protect my sons! I cannot fail again! Oh Lord, Kathleen!! His niece stumbled forward, her dress
dirty and torn, both hands cradled to her chest.
“Kathleen…are you all right?”
No answer. Ben lifted her to sit
on Cochise, making sure that she could hang onto the pommel. She stared through him, her brow
furrowed. Shock? I see no wounds on her, but it looks like she
took a tumble…Have to chance her riding, no more room in the buggy. I’ll have to go slow. Please..God..let me get them home. Alive.
Raven moved aside, allowing Red Eagle to enter their home. She stood in silence, her eyes on the
blanketed shape in her husband’s arms.
He laid the boy down, gently positioning his body near their pallet of
soft skins.
She came forward and knelt next to him.
“What
have you brought into our lodge, husband?”
She could see the uncertainty in his eyes…uncertainty and something
else—something she had not seen there since their son…since Naavik
died. She touched his shoulder, wanting
him to look at her. Yes! Your eyes
have lost that dead look…but what does this boy have to do with you, with us?
After a moment, he looked away from her and began to unwrap
the boy.
“He needs water. We traveled without stopping.”
“His head is bleeding.”
“The young ones were very angry. They wanted to kill…wanted blood spilt, but I
could not allow it—not to this boy, nor to his family.”
He built up the fire as she ran her hands across the boy’s smooth face,
turning it to examine the nicks and bruises.
Her fingers glided over his split lip.
“Why
did this happen? Why was his head
scraped like this?”
“To convince his father, his family..”
“Of what? That he was being scalped?”
“Yes..”
“Why?”
“So they would not look for him, not
search us out except, perhaps, to avenge his death.”
“But why bring him here? Why not kill him—as the whites killed our
son.”
“His spirit spoke to me. He is a part of Naavik,
and even in his fear, he challenged us. He mourned our son and gave him honor. He had Naavik’s
birth totem around his neck, and..” He picked up the boy’s limp arm, showing her the
scars.
“This boy is Laughing Eyes?” Her
own eyes widened.
“Yes.”
“And you wish to replace our son with
this…this boy?”
“No!
No..not replace,
never replace—But I want a son again, and Naavik
chose this one as a brother…”
“And in your reasoning, that makes him
our son …”
“Only if you will have him—Raven, if you had seen his sorrow when he heard of Naavik’s death…he loved him. This boy loved our son…”
Red Eagle looked at her with a mixture of despair and hope in his
eyes. Oh husband, I would do anything
to keep that light from leaving your eyes again. If only the Great Spirit had blessed us with
other sons and daughters.
He read her answer in her eyes and touched her hair lightly. “You do trust me, Raven.
You will see, when the boy awakens, you will see what I saw. He is special.”
“But the tribe—will they accept
him?”
He looked away, then down. “We will find out
tomorrow at the naming ceremony.”
She nodded, distracted by the shivering she felt under her hand. She pulled the heavy skin over the boy and
brought the dampened cloth up to clean the dried blood off his face. His eyes opened suddenly, startling her.
“…thirsty..”
“I will clean you. Lie still.
You are injured.”
“Where is my family? She
jumped, surprised at his fluent use of their language. He tried to sit up, but she easily
overpowered him.
He panted. “Please! Let me up!
My brothers are…”
“Your family is dead to you, as you
are to them.”
Joe jerked his gaze toward Red Eagle.
“Dead!?
Dead? No.
No! You said that you would only
take one life—one. My life..”
The boy struggled to escape Raven’s grasp. Red Eagle was beside her in an instant,
pushing Joe flat against the soft skins.
“You gave your word…your word…” His
head fell back, weariness claiming him.
But his accusing eyes never left their faces.
“I did take just one life—yours. Your life as you knew it is gone, is dead. You
will begin your new life tomorrow, as a son of a Paiute
chief. Your new life
as my son.”
“I’m not your son! Ben Cartwright is my father! No!
You cannot do this!” Joe tried to lift his head, tried again to ask about
his family. Were they alive? Did they find Kathleen? But pain, sorrow, and exhaustion claimed
him and he fainted.
Hop Sing heard the buggy and hastily lit the lamp. He hurried to the door, throwing it open as
Ben stepped up onto the porch. He directed
Abigail and Kathleen by their elbows.
“Hop Sing…Help me.”
Mr. Cartwright looks as if he’s about to fall down. And his eyes…they are full of sorrow. What has happened? Hop
Sing’s mind conjured up all manner of circumstances
that would have delayed them, but he wisely kept his speculation to himself and
his mouth closed. He guided the silent
women into the house, sitting them down near the fire.
After the injured men had been cleaned, bandaged, and put to bed, there
was nothing to do but wait for the doctor.
With every passing minute, Hop Sing became more frightened for his
oldest friend. He will not talk, and
refuses to meet my eyes.
Hop Sing placed a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee in front of Mr.
Ben’s slumped form. “Eat. Then rest.
The doctor will be here soon. You will see, family will be fine.” He prodded his employer until Ben picked up
the spoon and began to eat.
Abby and Kathleen had fallen asleep on the settee, and Hop Sing had
decided to let them rest. Sleep is a
healer of mind and body. Now if only I
can get Mr. Ben to rest. Maybe when he
awakens, the light will return to his eyes. But it is enough for now that he is
home. Hop Sing stared into the fire,
wondering about the missing Cartwright. He had started to ask about little Joe
several times, but something had stopped him.
Perhaps I do not ask because I fear the answer. I have not seen Mr. Cartwright act this way
since Missy Marie died…what will it do to Mr. Ben, to all of us, if Joseph has
joined his mother? I fear for my family…
To be continued…