Chapter 17
Ellie hurried toward Moses’s horse. When he hung back, she turned and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s hard on a horse, carrying both of us,” Moses mumbled.
Hating the delay, Ellie stopped and thought a moment. “Well, since Jesse went with Mama, his bay ought to be here.” She strode to the barn with Moses following behind, leading his black horse. The bay greeted them with his ears flicked forward. Moses helped Ellie saddle him. Then she led him out of the barn and swung up into the saddle. “Let’s go.”
Moses looked from Ellie to the horizon and back again. Then he slowly nodded and led the way out of town.
As the afternoon wore on, Ellie scanned the landscape, looking for any sign of Curtis, his horse, a campfire, or anything that might lead her to him. She wouldn’t let herself think that anything bad had happened, that his body might be lying in one of the ravines they passed. As strong as he might be, Curtis was alone, which made him more vulnerable in the wilderness. If he died, she felt as if she would die, too.
At last the sun sank toward the western horizon, leaving room for darkness to begin creeping up the Eastern sky.
When Moses stopped his horse, Ellie watched him point to a thin line of dark railroad track running like a thread across the landscape in front of them. Then he moved his hand to point out a column of smoke rising from behind a stand of trees around a bend in the tracks.
Ellie sat up straight. That could be Curtis's fire. “You did it, Moses!” she cried.
“We’ll see,” Moses replied, his tone grim.
As they rode around the bend, Moses pulled back on the horse’s reins as soon as he saw the bonfire. It wasn’t as it should be. Instead of a small cooking fire burning on flat ground, the huge fire was popping and dancing directly on top of the railroad tracks. “Uh oh,” Moses said, pulling his horse’s head around.
“What’s going on?” Ellie asked, leaning sideways on the bay to see around Moses better.
“Nothing good,” Moses replied.
Just then, three muscled Indian boys who looked younger than Ellie’s brothers leaped out in ambush from the brush along the side of the tracks. The one with the thickest arms sat on a paint horse, holding a lance aimed at Moses. The the tall, thin one aiming at Moses rode a chestnut pony, and the shortest one, his expression as fierce as his companions, held a drawn arrow on Ellie from the back of an appaloosa.
“Go!” Ellie screamed, turning her horse. As quick as a snake, the smaller Indian reached out and grabbed the bay’s reins, jerking them from her hands. In spite of Moses sitting on his black horse in front of her, Ellie suddenly felt helpless and vulnerable.
Moses dropped his reins and spoke a few words that Ellie couldn't understand. The tallest Indian boy sneered and said something in a voice that didn’t sound very nice. Then the tall boy’s gaze diverted to something behind Moses and Ellie, and a feral smile crossed his face.
Curtis! Ellie turned, half expecting to find Curtis riding up on his horse to rescue them. Instead, she watched the telltale plume of steam from a far off train moving closer by the second.
The tall Indian barked an order at Moses.
“Sorry, Miss Ellie, it’s time to get down and socialize with our new-found friends.”
Ellie swallowed. “Do you know these Indians?”
“Not these particular pups,” Moses said. “They have an idea of defeating the whites and bringing honor back to their tribe all by theirselves.”
So these young men were on the warpath, and they had weapons. This was not the way Ellie had imagined her life ending. She was supposed to find Curtis, and somehow convince him to spend the rest of his life with her. Coming for him had been a risk, she knew, but she desperately wanted to see him again. If she could just be folded into the safety of his strong arms and have one more of his long, warm kisses to fill her from head to toe with sustainable joy, then she would be content to face anything, even death.
Moses dismounted, then looked up at Ellie. There was nothing else to do but get off the bay. Would Jesse be angry at her for losing his horse? She hoped not.
The short Indian, who looked as if he’d either had his nose broken or was born with a disfigurement, took hold of both their horse’s reins, and led them off into the tall brush. The tall Indian dismounted, allowing his horse to follow the others as he trotted down the tracks toward the oncoming train.
Moses kept himself between the mounted boy with the lance and Ellie as the Indian boy nudged them closer to his tall companion. The tall one positioned himself beside the tracks, a strange eagerness in his posture as he focused on the trail of steam charging toward him like a wild buffalo.
“What is he doing?” Ellie asked.
“Proving his bravery, mos’ likely,” Moses said.
“How?”
“He’s going to jump the train.”
Ellie swung toward Moses, her eyes wide. The boy with the lance shouted something at her with a little jab of his weapon. Moses barked a single word at the boy, who looked at him with a startled gaze. Then his brow creased like a sulky child.
“But that's crazy,” she whispered. “Did they build the fire to slow the train so he could do this?”
“No crazy.” Startled, Ellie turned to see the Indian boy with the odd nose standing near her. All that was visible of his horse was its tail swishing at the edge of the brush.
“You speak English?” Ellie asked, hope rising as her thoughts focused on Curtis. “Have you seen a tall man, yellow hair, on a brown horse?”
The short boy tried pulling himself up to his full height while the one with the lance gave Ellie an evil grin that looked out of place on such a young face. “Take all whites village, kill.” He gestured toward the bonfire. “We kill iron horse and whites in belly, too.” He pointed toward his tall companion. “He count great coup.”
A fresh wave of terror coursed through Ellie as she looked into the small Indian’s indignant face. Even though he was not much more than a child, he had weapons and two friends, giving him a distinct advantage in deciding her fate. Perhaps once the tall one was on the train, Moses would come up with a plan to overpower these other two.
The tall one shouted something, and his companions laughed as the train drew closer and closer. What would the engineer do once he saw the fire on the tracks? Although the train would slow for the curve, the brakeman wouldn’t have time to engage the brakes on each car in time to stop before hitting the bonfire.
As the train slowed on the curve, Ellie wanted to run further from the tracks, but the spear pointed at her kept her in place. She watched in horrified fascination as the tall one ran alongside the train. He was swift, but unable to keep pace. The engineer stuck his hand out the window and waved at the youth as if to shoo him away. Then confusion crossed his face as came into full view of the bonfire. When he pulled the train whistle, the tall one opened his mouth in what must have been a triumphant yell, but the sound was lost in the hollow wail of the train whistle, a lonely crescendo pushing up into the evening sky before sinking down again in a parody of a coyote howl.
A glimpse of faces showed in the train windows, some focused on the Indian youth with wide eyes, pointing fingers, and moving mouths.
Then the tall one reached up and grabbed a metal bar fastened to the side of a train car. His body jerked forward as if he his joints were made of string. Ellie winced as the young man lost his hold and slumped to the ground, rolling away from the tracks as the train raced past his still form and hit the bonfire, sending a shower of sparks up into the air, taller than the hotel, red embers mingling with the steam like tiny little tortured souls being swept away in the wind.
Ellie watched, breathless, wondering if the trees would catch fire or if the train would explode from the sparks. The engineer kept his engine on course, and the train disappeared down the tracks, the sound of its metal wheels clicking on the rail joints gradually fading away, taking all hope of rescue with it.
The boy w
ith the lance lowered his weapon and glanced over at Ellie, who felt the ends of her gathered hair settling back down after whirling around in the train’s backdraft. She froze. If he couldn’t reach Moses, would he send the lance through her? Suddenly, he kicked his horse into a gallop and took off across the landscape, until he and his paint disappeared into the early dusk.
The short boy did just the opposite, rushing to the tall one’s side with Moses right behind him. Ellie stared at Moses as if she’d never seen him before. How had he come to take charge of a situation like this, or display so much confidence in himself?
Ellie hurried toward Moses, who had his big hand pressed flat over the tall one’s chest. What would Moses do? The short boy watched, his knees bent slightly as if he was ready to spring.
The tall Indian boy tried to sit up, then let out a yell and grimaced horribly, grabbing at his shoulder. It had an odd bump that Ellie hadn’t noticed before. Moses said something that Ellie didn’t understand, and the youth lay back down, panting, his eyes screwed up tightly with pain.
Turning to look at Ellie with his dark eyes, Moses said words that chilled her to the bone. “Miss Ellie, you’ve gotta hold him tight round his chest.”
Ellie couldn’t believe she’d heard right. The thought of moving closer to these violent youths with sharp implements was the last thing she wanted. “But, I...” she stammered.
“Hold him so I can put his shoulder back to where it belongs,” Moses said. “Hold him tight, like you’ll not let him go no matter what. Even though it feels like I’m trying to yank him from you, don’ let me.”
“Why not have his friend do it?”
Moses glanced at the short boy. “For one thing, he doesn’ understand what I’m tryin’ to do, and for another thing, look at him.” Ellie realized that Moses was right. If the boy with the lance hadn’t ridden away, he might have been able to help, but not this small one. “Please, Miss Ellie, I need your help.’
Looking into Moses’s sweating face, Ellie realized that in spite of her reluctance, she needed to help him. After all, he’d come on this rescue mission because she’d begged him to. “Alright,” she said, trepidation making her voice wobble. She cleared her throat and stiffened her spine. “Show me what to do.”
Moses directed her to sit right behind the tall one. She did, folding her legs to the side and tucking her riding skirt in around her legs. “No,” Moses said. “You gotta put your limbs on either side of him.”
Ellie stared at Moses. That was positively indecent.
Glancing up at her indignant face, Moses said, “It has to be done.”
Ellie clenched her teeth in determination. Moses was right. She could do this. She would do it. Ellie divided her skirt at the split, keeping as much fabric as she could wrapped around each of her lower limbs before sliding them on either side of the tall boy. He smelled like smoke, sage, pine, and sweat. Breathing through her mouth, Ellie reached her arms around the young man’s naked upper body and hooked her fingers together over his hard, muscled chest.
“No,” Moses shook his head at the sight of Ellie’s hands. “Hold tighter.” He took the Indian’s injured arm with his big hands and gave Ellie a serious stare.
Ellie closed her eyes and imagined that she was holding Curtis. If she let go, he would die. She locked her hands together so tightly that the Indian youth let out a gasp. When Moses yanked on his arm, Ellie felt herself rocking forward. She dug her boot heels into the ground and squeezed the boy even harder. Curtis, she thought fiercely. I’m saving Curtis. I have to hold on, I have to save him.
The body in her arms trembled, much as Jesse had when he’d burned himself on the stove as a child. Linnea had directed Ellie to hold Jesse so she could put butter on his blistered skin. Jesse had hollered and sobbed, trembling in her grasp, until he’d finally cried himself into a restless sleep.
But this Indian youth, trembling in pain like her brother, kept silent. He must have pulled from some deep reserve of self control, even though she would not have faulted him for yelling against the pain.
Another jerk. This time Ellie did not move as much. Curtis, Curtis, I love you, Curtis.
The Indian pried at her fingers, but Ellie growled and held them firm.
“Miss Ellie, let go,” Moses said in his deep, soft voice.
Ellie opened her eyes to see the small boy looking ready to pounce on her. She released her fingers, surprised to discover that they were numb. The injured boy pushed himself away from her and stood, slightly hunched, beads of sweat on his forehead, rolling his arm slowly around, then stopping with a sharp flinch before he could make a complete circle. He lowered his arm and grinned at his companion.
Then he said something to Moses. Moses nodded, and the two youths disappeared into the brush. They soon broke out astride their horses, trotting away. With rising hope, Ellie watched them go. “This is our chance,” she said to Moses. “Once they’re out of sight, we can escape.” She headed toward the brush where the bay and the black had been taken.
“Too late,” Moses replied.
Ellie looked back at him, a question in her eyes. Then she followed his gaze. Her heart sank as she watched the departing warriors pull up beside four other riders approaching through the darkening landscape. Then to her dismay, they all turned and headed back toward Ellie and Moses. “It looks like they’ve got reinforcements,” she said. “Can’t we outrun them?”
“Jus’ wait,” Moses said with a strange light in his eye. Ellie couldn’t tell if it came from the setting sun or if he was losing his mind. Still, he was her best option for protection, so she moved close enough to him to hide behind his back.
“Ellie girl?”
Sudden tears sprang to Ellie’s eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. “Papa?”
Her father slid off his horse and hurried toward her in a limping run, his arms outstretched, looking thinner than she’d ever seen him.
“Papa!” Ellie yelled, running into his arms.
“Oh, Ellie, my beautiful girl, my angel light.”
“You’re alive, Papa, I knew you were!” Ellie cried, tears spilling onto her father’s tattered shirt while he held her against his chest.
Wilburn took hold of his daughter’s shoulders and pushed her away far enough to look into her eyes. “I missed you.”
Barely aware of Moses walking past them toward the other riders, Ellie replied, “I missed you too, we all did. What happened, Papa?”
“They attacked our wagon while I was playing harmonica to entertain poor Reg Owens. They killed him first, so it was blessedly quick. When Dan Gregory pulled a gun, he lost his life. I was sure I’d be next, but they took my harmonica and looked it over. Several of them tried playing it. I’ve never heard such awful sounds as the ones coming from my poor, tortured instrument. Then they pressed it up to my mouth. It was pretty plain what they wanted. I was so scared, I hardly had enough breath to blow into it, but I managed to play a tune. They laughed, then took me back to their village. I played for them every day. Just now, when the chief’s son said there was a medicine woman looking for a white man, I had to turn it over before they’d let me leave the village.”
Confused, Ellie asked, “Medicine woman?”
Her father gave her a small smile. “You’ll see. Just play the part.” Putting his arm around his daughter, Wilburn turned her to face a mounted middle aged Indian holding a pole with fluttering things on it, and the three Indian boys sitting on horses. The youth with the lance pointed his weapon at her and said something, his adolescent voice high with excitement.
To the side of them, Curtis stood next to Moses, his blue eyes fixed intently on her. “Curtis!” Ellie cried, trying to step out of her father’s embrace in order to reach him.
Squeezing her shoulders, Wilburn murmured, “Not now.”
When the middle aged Indian raised his pole, the boy with the lance fell silent.
“What’s on there?” Ellie asked with a cold stab of fear as she watche
d the dangles from the pole flutter feebly, like hair caught underwater.“Scalps?”
“It’s leather fringe and feathers,” Wilburn replied. “It’s a ceremonial lance.”
The older Indian’s loose black hair flowed over his shoulders, his face glowing red in the light from the setting sun. Ellie gasped when she saw a ragged scar running from halfway down his cheek up over his eye. From where the scar disappeared into his hairline, a white streak rippled down the length of his hair.
With his dark eyes fixed on Ellie, he said something she didn’t understand.
“He’s the village medicine man,” Wilburn explained.
The medicine man got off his horse in one fluid movement and walked toward Ellie and her father. “Stand firm,” Wilburn whispered, “like a wood carving.” The medicine man’s eyes never left Ellie as he got closer and closer, finally stopping in front of her and planting his pole onto the dirt, feathers and fringe fluttering. Up close, Ellie could see crow feathers fastened in the Indian’s hair on either side of his head.
Of an equal height, his dark gaze stared straight into her eyes, making her want to pull back. The sight of his scar, which appeared to be from a knife wound, looked old. Imagining it as a fresh cut was deeply disturbing, especially since the scar line slid over his eyelid, puckering the skin. Taking comfort from her father’s arm around her, Ellie held steady. Firm as a carving, she told herself.
Then she tensed as the medicine man moved his hand toward her. What was he doing? Taking hold of Wilburn’s hand, the Indian pulled it from Ellie’s shoulder. With a single command from the medicine man, Wilburn stepped away from her.
Papa! Although she yearned to move in next to her father again, Ellie didn’t dare turn her head as the medicine man made a slow circuit, her heart nearly beating itself to death against her ribs when he disappeared behind her. Catching sight of her father in her peripheral vision, she imagined herself as a carving standing solidly next to the one she’d made of Papa.
The Indian circled back in front to stare into her eyes again. When he reached up toward her head, Ellie wanted to cringe, but wouldn’t let herself. She stared back at the Indian as his fingers touched the place where her white streak grew. He ran his hand down the length of it, stopping where it was tied up in the ribbon. A sudden, sharp tug at the back of her neck made Ellie gasp and turn aside, her hair falling loose and free against her shoulders as her pink ribbon dangled from the medicine man’s fingers.
He spoke, and Wilburn translated, “He wants to know which white man you seek.”
Ellie tore her gaze from the medicine man’s dark eyes and focused on Curtis, who looked at her with eyes so full of love that she was infused with immediate courage. “I seek them both. Now that they are found, they return with me.”
Without any interpretation, the medicine man nodded. Then he tied the pink ribbon at the top of his pole, turned, walked back and mounted his horse. After one last look at Ellie, he turned and rode away, the pink ribbon fluttering among the feathers and fringe as the three boys followed him into the twilight.
Ellie ran to Curtis, who wrapped his arms around her, mending her heart and filling her with joy.
“Well handled, my daughter,” Wilburn said.
Ellie felt as if she might burst with happiness. “Mama is going to be so surprised!” she cried.
“I am more than happy to be her surprise,” Papa said with a grin.
“But I must warn you,” Ellie said, “she has a dangling thread that needs snipping.” When Wilburn looked confused, Ellie laughed. “His name is John Haun.”
Wilburn’s brow dipped. “Well, if he’s been bothering my Linnea, I’ll be sure to snip him off first thing. Our family may be growing, but he’s not the addition I would choose.”
“Growing?” Ellie asked. She turned toward Curtis, noticing for the first time that he had a bruise on his cheekbone. A bump on his head had bled onto his eyebrow and sent a trickle of red down the side of his face. “They hurt you!” she cried. “You shouldn’t have gone out alone!”
Curtis took both of her hands. “I’ve never felt better. After Moses convinced me that he’d really seen your father, I realized I couldn’t ask you to marry me until I’d gotten his permission. So I had to find him. He said that if it is your wish, he gives his blessing on our marriage.”
Curtis lowered himself to one knee and looked up at Ellie. “I don’t know that you could match my feelings, but I must tell you that I love you, Ellie Ransom.”
Ellie had dreamed of this moment. She wanted to be with Curtis always, and it thrilled her to hear him say that he felt the same way. Eyes blurred by tears of joy, she heard him say, “Will you do me the great honor of marrying me?”
“Yes!” Ellie cried. “Now stand up.”
Ellie embraced Curtis, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. ”Perhaps we can buy those train tickets once we’re man and wife, and go somewhere you’ve never been before,” Curtis said into Ellie’s ear.
Ellie turned to smile at her father. “Do you really like him, Papa?”
“He brought me back to you.” Wilburn reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a carving, and held up the figure of a woman in a swirling skirt. “And now I can get back to my real Linnea, instead of just having this likeness I carved of her.”
Ellie reached into her own pocket and pulled out her carving. “Look what I have, Papa.”
Wilburn took hold of the tall, slender man with one foot raised in a dancing pose. He held the figure next to the one of the woman he’d made with the swirling skirt. They were as perfectly proportioned as if they had been carved by the same hand. Still clutching the carvings, Wilburn said, “These will forever dance side by side on the mantlepiece at home.”
“Let’s go, then,” Ellie said.
“Come on, Moses,” Curtis said. “Rambling awaits us.”
“I don’ think so,” Moses said.
Surprise showed plain on Curtis’s face. “What?”
“I’m a free man now. I choose to go back to Sunning Sparrow. I like my life as a buffalo man.”
A slow smile spread across Curtis’s face. “Well, then, by all means, you should live the life you choose. Maybe you’ll come into town once in awhile for a visit.”
Moses grinned. “I would like that. I’m thinking that Sunning Sparrow has some things that you could maybe sell to some of those Eastern or Europe folks.”
“That’s a fine idea.” Curtis and Moses shook hands.
Ellie grabbed Moses’s hand in both of hers. “You’re invited to our wedding, you know. You and Sunning Sparrow both.”
“That’s mighty kind,” Moses said.
Then Moses got on his horse and headed off toward the hills in the strange light between sunset and a nearly full moon, while Wilburn and Curtis rode on either side of Ellie as the three of them turned their horses toward Rambling.
THE END
If you enjoyed “Carved in Love,” please leave a review. Thank you! Want more? Read on for a peek into the second story in the “Tracks of the Heart” series.
“Escape to Love”
By Savanna Sage