She became suddenly aware of drums pounding out a dirge outside the tepee; people’s voices blended as they began openly mourning their departed loved one.
She now felt blessed for those few last moments with a man whom so many had loved. In that short time while he was awake and smiling at her, he had shown her just why he was so beloved by his Assiniboine people!
She no longer felt afraid that she would somehow be blamed for his death. She now knew that these people saw something mystical even in death.
She hoped that she, too, would react to the world in the way of these wonderful people when she became the wife of their young chief.
The thought of becoming Blue Thunder’s wife made her time awaiting his return bearable.
When he came back to the village, she had no doubt that he would have Megan with him!
Chapter Twenty-four
Who is this happy warrior?
Who is he that every man in arms
Should wish to be?
—Wordsworth
Speckled Fawn still pretended to stumble as she was taken to a cabin by two soldiers. It was scarcely furnished and . . . there were bars on its only window.
The bars made her heart skip a beat as she was led to the small bed beneath the window.
Had she stepped into a trap? Had the colonel of this fort discovered what she had come for?
Had someone been spying on Blue Thunder and his warriors?
If so, had she been seen with them?
Now she feared not only for herself, but also for Blue Thunder and those brave warriors with him.
Perhaps even now the soldiers were with Blue Thunder, arresting or killing him for making plans against a white settler.
“Please excuse us for bringing you here. There is no other available lodging,” a soldier with brilliant red hair said as he helped Speckled Fawn down to the cot, which had a mattress on it but nothing more. “You will be brought clean sheets, a basin of water, and a clean dress. My wife will bring you one to wear. She is the same size as you, so the dress should fit you well enough.”
It was as though a fresh breeze of air had swept into the room. Speckled Fawn realized that her immediate fears were unfounded. She was not being arrested.
“I appreciate what you are doing for me,” Speckled Fawn said, easing herself down onto the mattress and trying to ignore the smell of urine on it. She hated to imagine just who had slept on it, for surely the worst of criminals were brought to this cell until they were taken elsewhere for their punishment.
If she had been captured years ago when she was on the run after stabbing a rapist to death, she could have been made to stay in such a desolate, stinking cabin.
As it was, she would not even spend a full night there. As soon as she managed to get the child, she would flee into the night.
“My name’s Jack. What’s yours?” the redhaired man asked, looking intently at her.
For a moment a chill rushed down Speckled Fawn’s spine.
This man was looking at her so carefully, as though he were studying her features. Did it mean that he remembered her from somewhere . . . perhaps a Wanted poster?
But she scoffed at that idea. She had seen one of the posters, and the drawing had been nothing like the way she actually looked.
And she had gained quite a bit of weight since those horrible, hungry days when she would often go more than two days without food.
“My name?” she asked, looking Jack squarely in the eye, her fear of what he might be thinking gone.
“Judith Bowen,” she said, quickly inventing a false name. “My name is Judith Bowen.” She pretended sadness by lowering her eyes. “My husband’s name was . . . Timothy. My sweet daughter’s was Priscilla.”