Wild Abandon

Dancing Cloud wanted nothing more than to gather Lauralee into his arms and wipe away her pain and the knowledge that what she suspected was more than likely true. She was wise in ways of medicine and health. Their child. A child he had not even yet known about. It was going to be taken from them.

Lauralee moaned and grabbed at her stomach again. Dancing Cloud rushed down the steps. He placed a kettle of water over the flames of the fireplace. He grabbed an armload of towels from a shelf and placed them at the foot of the ladder.

Then he went to his store of herbal medicines. He mixed up a concoction of meadow rue roots and wild alum in water, which was used for hemorrhaging.

He carried these things to the loft. He gasped when he saw the pool of blood in which Lauralee was now lying. He panicked when he saw that she had lost consciousness.

He gazed up at Hope where she lay on the bed. He went to her, gathered her gently into his arms, and placed her safely in her cradle.

He then lifted Lauralee onto the bed.

The next moments seemed to flow by without thought as Dancing Cloud did what he could to save Lauralee’s life. He forced the medicinal herbal mixture through her lips and down her throat.

Alone, he continued to care for her, cleaning her up, placing towels between her legs to soak up the blood.

And after several crucial moments of thinking blood flow would never stop, the towels that he brought out from between her legs were finally free of blood.

He stared down at Lauralee, his heart skipping a beat over how pale she was. He was not sure now if she would survive.

Covering her with a warm blanket, he knelt down beside her and began a soft chant. His eyes never left the stillness of her face.

Chapter 32

For love is heaven,

and heaven is love.

—SIR WALTER SCOTT

Lauralee was aware of someone singing as she slowly emerged from her deep sleep. The voice. It came from afar, as if from a distant land.

Dancing Cloud.

It was Dancing Cloud’s voice.

Where was he? She wished to reach out and touch him, to tell him that she was going to be all right.

The child, she despaired to herself. Their beloved child they both would never hold or love. It had been taken from her.

She refused to open her eyes. She did not want to face reality just yet. She just wanted to listen to the song, to the voice singing it. She wanted to draw it around her like a protective cloak and never let it go.

Dancing Cloud. Oh, how I love you, Dancing Cloud, she thought lethargically. Do you still love me? Although childless now, do you still love me?

She hugged herself with her arms and turned on her side, the song reaching her, touching her, calming her. . . .

“Listen! On high you dwell,” Dancing Cloud was singing as he sat on a cliff that overlooked his village. “Forever you dwell, you adida-we. But down below, sorrow smothers we who sing. Bring my woman relief. Hay!”

He gazed down at his cabin. His eyes never left it as he continued to sing, pouring out his grief and hope and faith to the gods of his people.

The sun was a vast splash of orange along the horizon as evening grew in lengthy shadows along the land. Dancing Cloud pushed himself up from the rocky precipice.

“Hear my prayers, Wah-kon-tah, Great Spirit,” Dancing Cloud said, walking dispiritedly down the angled path that led from the cliff. “My child has been taken. Do not also take my wife.”

* * *

A soft hand on Lauralee’s arm drew her eyes open. The hand. It was warm. It was comforting. But . . . it was so small, so much smaller than Dancing Cloud’s powerful hands.

Turning over, Lauralee found herself gazing up into Brian Brave Walker’s troubled, dark eyes. The candlelight from a fluttering candle on the table beside her bed revealed not only tears in Brian Brave Walker’s eyes, but also a deep look of concern.