Ivy Page 8

  Ivy scooted her body upward and used her free hand to feel for the reins. She didn’t have them for long before they were yanked from her grasp.

  Kangi never spoke a word to her as he led them out of the forest.

  Blood ran down her arm to drip from her fingers. The wound stung. She felt it with her other hand, careful not to let go of Chaska. She sighed. The cut was not deep, and she would be okay.

  They rode until the first rays of dawn peeked over the hills and colors became more visible. He stopped the horses a few yards past the tree line. Ivy scanned their surroundings. Nothing was within her view, and she figured they were out in the open.

  The man shouted in Lakota to Kimimela, and she answered him in soft, even tones. Ivy had no idea what they were saying but sensed the girl’s reluctance to do as her father had said. Still on top of the horse, Ivy cradled the baby close, when she heard footprints coming toward her. Before she could distinguish whose they were, a strong hand grabbed hold of her dress and pulled her down. Chaska flew from her arms. Heart lodged in her throat, she waited for the deafening thunk of the infant’s body hitting the ground…but nothing came.

  “Kimimela?”

  “I have him, Makawee.”

  “Thank goodness.” She breathed.

  Kangi grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her away.

  Where was Hotah? She narrowed her eyes, and the smear of browns, greys, and yellows filtered together. Ivy blinked and rubbed her eyes, when Kangi jerked her toward him. She stumbled, but the renegade did not wait for her to right her footing; instead, he tugged her along.

  The girl walked beside them, arguing with Kangi about something, and Ivy wished she’d paid more attention when Poppy spoke to the Indians who traded with them.

  Kangi placed Ivy in front of him, snaked his arm around her neck, and she felt the cool blade press against her throat.

  With care and patience Hotah walked the horse through the trees. He’d criticized himself a hundred times for leaving Ivy, the baby, and Kimimela. He needed a horse if they were to outrun the cavalry and have a successful escape and hadn’t thought of what might happen if they were alone. All of it seemed futile now as he wandered through the trees following their tracks. Which is what led him to the conclusion that Kangi had taken them.

  His brother hadn’t tried to hide the horse’s prints. Hotah had to be alert. Kangi was capable of anything, including death. The forest opened up to a narrow meadow with bluffs and tall rocks.

  Hotah’s blood froze, and his body temperature dropped. Fear slammed into him, shaking any strength he might’ve had. Kangi stood with a knife to Ivy’s throat. He searched for Kimimela and found her holding Chaska ten feet from Kangi. No rope bound her hands, and he figured she was too frightened to run from her father.

  He flexed his hand over the shotgun hanging on the side of the horse. Kangi was smart—if Hotah went for the weapon, he’d kill Ivy. He nudged the animal to take slow steps, careful to keep his hands within Kangi’s view.

  “Ciya,” he said once he was close enough.

  Kangi’s lip curled. “We are not brothers. You are a traitor.” He spat.

  They spoke in Lakota.

  “You are mistaken. It was you who turned on everything we were taught. You took innocent lives.”

  The knife Kangi held shook, and Hotah watched Ivy’s throat intently for any sign of blood. If his brother so much as scraped her, he’d kill him.

  “I kill only when a need arises,” Kangi said. The deerskin pants were smudged with dirt, and Hotah saw the blood on them too.

  “Women? Children?”

  “They are white.” The hate within Kangi’s voice caused the hair on Hotah’s arms to rise.

  “What has happened to you?” He climbed down to stand. “Where did my brother go?”

  “You do not care about me. You never did.” The muscles in his arm tensed.

  “You are my brother. For all the wrong you’ve done, I still love you.”

  “Bah! You loved my wife.”

  Hotah could not deny what he said.

  “You did not care that I had lost my mate! You were too wrapped up in yourself.”

  He had injured Kangi deeply by what he’d done. Hotah had loved Red Swallow, and he did not want to comfort his brother, when he mourned inside. He’d been selfish.

  “I am sorry,” he said.

  “You kept my daughter from me!” Kangi screamed.

  “You went to prison. You left. I had to watch out for Kimimela.”

  “Enough! You held onto her because of Red Swallow.”

  Another truth, and Hotah hung his head.

  “You cast me away.”

  “Kangi, you killed a white woman,” he said, and the words were strained.

  “I am your brother.”

  “It was wrong.” Hotah would not go against this. Yes, he’d been selfish when it came to Kimimela, but that was where his guilt stopped.

  “You picked a side!”

  “What should I have done? You were not the same. I saw it.”

  “I am your blood. Mine should’ve been the one you picked, not some white woman’s.” Kangi pressed the knife into Ivy’s throat.

  Her eyes grew wide, tears hovering within them.

  Hotah took a step.

  “I will kill her.”

  “No, Kangi, do not.”

  “Why? Do you care for her? Love her?” He laughed, but his eyes sliced into Hotah, and it was clear Kangi was deranged. The dark circles held nothing—no emotion, no empathy, no love.

  “Release her…please.”

  “Beg for her.”

  “Please, Brother, release the woman. I will do whatever you want.”

  The corners of Kangi’s lips tipped upward. He removed the knife from Ivy’s throat and drove it into her back.

  She gasped. Her face lost all color, and her knees buckled.

  Hotah reached for his knife and clutched it in his hand. Feet planted into the ground, breathing labored, he blinked to focus. He stared at Ivy, wishing she could see him.

  “She is to die today,” Kangi said.

  He knew his brother would make good on his threat. Ivy needed him. She deserved better. Her life was worth more. His hands clammy, he flexed his fingers over the handle of the blade to tighten his grip. Every muscle in his body tensed as the blood boiled inside him.

  “Why do you wish to kill her now and not before?” he asked.

  Kangi did not answer.

  “Tell me!”

  Ivy was losing blood, and Hotah was losing patience.

  “Because you care for her.”

  “Why did you take her?” Hotah was trying to understand the mind of his brother and buy Ivy some time.

  “As bait.”

  “For what?”

  “You.”

  He stared at Kangi. He knew now the tracks by the water were the general’s and Kangi’s. An agreement had ensued, and in turn they’d both get what they wanted: Hotah dead.

  “Why General Davis when you despise all whites?” Hotah asked.

  “What makes you think I care for this one?”

  Kangi used the general to get what he wanted. It all made sense now. Hotah glanced at Ivy, and her eyes fluttered. She was losing blood, and he had to act.

  “If I am what you want, why not kill me then?”

  “I will end her life first and watch you suffer as I did when Red Swallow died.”

  “Red Swallow would not have wanted you to do this.” Hotah was desperate and used the only thing he knew to make Kangi see things more clearly.

  “Yes.”

  “No, Ciya, you have become the enemy. She was pure, and your hatred for all around you would’ve tainted her.”

  “No!” Kangi’s eyes were wild.

  “Red Swallow would be disgusted at who you’ve become.”

  Kangi tossed Ivy to the side, and swung his arm back to throw the knife.

  Hotah had been ready. He released the dagger with skilled swiftness
and accurate aim the minute Ivy was out of the way. He stood still—muscles tense as he stared at his brother’s shocked face before he fell forward onto the ground. The knife he’d thrown had struck Kangi in the heart. What had he done? Hotah’s body vibrated, as he walked toward Kangi. He gasped for breath as he stared at his brother lying dead before him. He couldn’t move, immobile by his actions—his life-taking actions. He heard Ivy whimpering beside him, and knew she was injured but he could not bring himself from Kangi’s feet, or the remorse he felt. He didn’t have a choice Kangi would’ve killed Ivy. Acknowledging this did not make the debt of killing his own brother any less, and Hotah hung his head.

  “I am sorry, Ciya,” he breathed.

  Ivy couldn’t hold on any longer. Kangi was dead, and with the threat now gone she took a step. The laceration on her back burned, pulsating to the rhythm of her heart. Unsure how deep it was, or if she was dying, she gasped for air as panic set in. She hunched forward and collapsed onto the ground.

  Hotah hoisted her into his arms and carried her several feet from Kangi’s body before he laid her on the ground to inspect the wound. Strong, capable hands ran along her back as he searched for other wounds. Ivy placed her cheek to the ground and brought her knees up to cradle against her chest.

  The sound of her dress being ripped open and the cool morning air against her skin told her he’d found where she’d been stabbed.

  “Hotah?” she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to hear if she’d die.

  “It is deep but missed your vitals.”

  She exhaled.

  “The wound bleeds. It will have to be stitched.”

  “Is there no other way?” she asked, knowing how painful the needle poking into her skin would be.

  Hotah leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I am sorry, wiwasteka, but there is not.” He pressed his lips tenderly on her cheek, lingering long enough for her stomach to flutter with desire. For the first time in her life she felt safe…whole. When he moved away, she felt the chill of his absence like a winter storm.

  Kimimela covered her with a blanket and sat across from her holding Chaska. The girl had just lost her father, and Ivy worried for her. Death was horrendous on its own, but to see it evaporate right before your eyes was a whole other thing.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Kimimela nodded. “My father was not a good man.”

  “No, he wasn’t, but—”

  “Do not worry. I am not sad.”

  Ivy didn’t know what else to say. The girl seemed fine, and so she left it alone.

  “What is the baby doing?” she asked, trying to forget what was coming.

  “He eats pemmican. He cannot bite it with no teeth, but the flavor is enough to keep him busy,” the girl said.

  She smiled.

  Hotah wiped the wound with a wet cloth and poured a warm liquid over her flesh. Ivy’s smile vanished, and in its place came a low groan. She rubbed her cheek into the ground.

  “What in tarnation is that?” she asked between clenched teeth.

  “Whiskey from the cavalry man’s bag,” he said.

  “Did you kill him?” She knew the answer but asked anyway.

  “I needed his horse.” He handed her a small stick. “Put this between your teeth.”

  “Why?”

  “You will need to bite down when the pain from the needle pierces your skin.”

  She sucked in a breath. “How many stitches?”

  “Seven…maybe eight.”

  Ivy said a silent prayer that he would be quick and took the stick from him before placing it into her mouth.

  The first poke sent a wave of nausea rolling across her stomach. She swallowed over the stick to keep from vomiting. The five pokes that followed were even more painful, and she couldn’t help the tears as they drained from her eyes. Kimimela scooted closer to hold Ivy’s hand, and she was grateful for the girl’s kindness. When Hotah stabbed the needle in for the last time, she moaned, forcing her body into the dirt. Ivy could not stop the relentless cries as they broke from her lips. Her body shook from the pain, the tears, and the distress she’d been through. Another spark of agony raced across her back as he poured more whiskey over the stitches to clean them.

  Ivy spit the stick from her mouth and sobbed.

  Hotah laid the blanket around her, covering the wound. He gently moved the hair that had fallen in her face. “Shush, it is over.”

  She took three calming breaths and lay still, afraid to move.

  “You are very brave, Makawee,” Kimimela said. “You are a warrior princess.”

  Ivy didn’t feel any of the things the girl had said. She wished to lie on the ground for days but knew danger was near. She inched herself up to a seated position, each movement of her muscles sending spasms across her back. She ground her teeth against the torture.

  “You should lie down and rest,” Hotah said. The blurred image of brown and white told her he stood by the horses.

  “How far are we from Manchester?” she asked, wanting to know how much time she had left with him.

  “A day’s ride.”

  “Where are the general and his men?”

  “I do not know.”

  She stood, her legs wobbly. She stretched out her arms to catch her balance and regretted it immediately. Intense misery sliced across her back, and she bent forward.

  “You need to rest.” He was by her side, cradling her arm within his hand.

  “We need to ride. It isn’t safe out here in the open,” she murmured between clenched teeth.

  “Makawee is right—we need to go,” Kimimela said, the baby still in her arms.

  He helped her to the ground and placed the blanket back around her shoulders.

  “What does she call me?” Ivy whispered to Hotah. The girl had been using the name for the past two days, and she was curious as to what it meant.

  “Earth maiden.”

  “Why does she call me that?”

  “My niece sees you as one with Mother Earth. You are adept at what is around even without your sight.”

  Ivy pondered what he said, realizing the girl had given her a compliment even if she did not agree. She smiled past the ache in her spine.

  “Now rest. We will go soon.”

  “How is your leg?” she asked, wanting to delay his absence.

  “I am well.” He kissed her forehead before walking away.

  She’d found an advantage to being blind—one could not watch someone you care about walk away.

  “Do you wish for your child?” Kimimela asked, holding the baby out toward her.

  Reminders of what was ahead stripped the contentment right out from underneath her. Soon she’d be back on the homestead with the rules and the demands and under the watchful eyes of her sisters. Happiness would be a distant memory followed by isolation, bleakness, and a life of darkness.

  “He is not mine.” Saying the words stole the breath from her lungs. She looked away from the girl. Composure was her only advantage to what lay ahead.

  “Whose is he if not yours?” The girl sat beside her.

  “I am not fit to raise a child.” It was time Ivy faced the reality of what would happen tomorrow. It was pointless to imagine the life she wanted. Once home, she’d be a prisoner again.

  “Are you not well?”

  “I am blind,” she hissed. Ivy knew the girl was just asking questions, but she was exhausted and tired.

  “You live like a worm,” the girl snapped.

  She was silent.

  “Worms burrow into the ground, and you only see them on rainy days. They don’t come out and show you how smart and capable they are. Instead, they work under the dirt, hiding all their talents.”

  “I hardly think I am a worm,” Ivy said.

  “Makawee, you do not see what I do.”

  “Yes, right, a wasteful worm.”

  “Worms are not wasteful.”

  Ivy turned from her.

  “Makawee hides from everything
and everyone around her.”

  The girl was wise, but Ivy was not about to admit she was right.

  “You have a strength within you most wish to have.”

  “Kimimela, you are wrong.”

  “You rely on the illness to keep you angry…to keep you from doing the things of which you are capable.” The girl leaned in so Ivy could see her face clearly. “But you are not weak, and when you are alone…this strength comes out.”

  “I am a burden. Or a nuisance,” she whispered.

  “You are more than those things.”

  Ivy snorted.

  “Leksi sees this in you also.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “He looks at you with profound affection.”

  Ivy wished to believe what the girl said was true, but she could not imagine a world with love and affection from Hotah. He did not want a woman who could not see and always needed attention. No one did, not even her sisters.

  “Thank you, Kimimela, but Chaska will stay with you until we reach Manchester…and then my sisters will raise him.” She bit back the tears.

  “If I did not have Leksi, I’d wish to live with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are wise like the owl, swift like the fox, but most importantly you are kind, generous, and compassionate like the deer.” The girl leaned in and kissed Ivy’s cheek before she lifted the baby from the ground and walked away.

  Ivy’s eyes watered, and she blinked. How could Kimimela wish to live with her, a blind woman, over someone else? Surely there were others more capable and worthy of the child’s love. She shook her head. Desolation snuck into her soul to steal away any bits of confidence left. She wrapped the blanket tightly around her, and eased back onto the ground. Ivy had never felt so alone.

  Hotah placed Kangi within two large branches eight feet from the ground. There he’d remain until his body turned to ash. The Lakota did not dig graves for their people; instead, they hoisted loved ones into a tree away from animals so the body could decay naturally.

  He understood now why his brother had hated him so. The acceptance of this did not come easy, and Hotah knew the consequences of his transgressions would stay with him forever. He held some of the blame when it came to how Kangi perceived the days following Red Swallow’s death. He had loved Kangi’s wife, put his own misery ahead of his brother’s, and had not cared how it must’ve looked to the Paha Sapa tribe. Because of this, Kangi had grown to hate him, along with the wasichu. He’d been a fool and a traitor, and his relationship with Kangi had been the price he paid.