Savage Skies

She covered her face with her hands as she faked a deep, anguished sob behind them. “Lord, oh, Lord, I have lost everything,” she cried. “My husband. My daughter! My . . . home!”

A rush of feet into the cabin made Speckled Fawn peek between her fingers. She saw a woman about the same size as she. Her face was pale, her hair wrapped in a tight chignon atop her head.

“Come on in, Darla Jane,” Jack said.

“My, oh my,” Darla Jane said as she rushed to Speckled Fawn with a dress hanging across her arm.

Moments after she arrived, another woman came into the cabin, carrying a basin of water.

“Jack, you and George can leave now,” Darla Jane said, standing on tiptoe to brush a quick kiss across Jack’s face. “Clara Belle and I will take care of the woman’s needs. You go on and attend to your duties.”

“Her name is Judith Bowen,” Jack said over his shoulder as he and George turned and hurried to the door. “She’s had a terrible experience. Help her, darlin’, as you know how to help.”

“I shall,” Darla Jane said, then knelt down beside Speckled Fawn. “My dear, I am so sorry for your losses. But things will get better. I’ve seen it countless times since my husband joined the cavalry. Those awful Indians. Tsk, tsk. All savages. Every one of them redskins is a butchering savage. They should all be hanged for their crimes against humanity.”

The woman’s harsh opinion of Indians made it hard for Speckled Fawn to just lie there, listening to such condemnation of a people who had gotten a raw deal because of the greed and insensitivity of white leaders.

Speckled Fawn could hardly wait to leave this place, to be with her family of Indians again.

Just being there at the fort, with people who were so blind to the realities of life out West, was making her feel sick to her stomach.

Yes, she did see the Comanche renegades as savages, for they were responsible for terrible cruelty, and others with red skin were suffering the consequences of their attacks on settlers.

“I appreciate all of your kindnesses,” Speckled Fawn forced herself to say as she slowly sat up on the bed.

She looked past the two women who were already there at a tiny, pretty, older woman who was just entering with an armload of bedding.

“What did you say your name was?” Darla Jane asked as she handed the dress to Speckled Fawn.

Speckled Fawn panicked, for she had forgotten her pretend name.

Then it came to her, and she heaved a deep sigh. “Judith,” she said. “Judith Bowen.”

“What a lovely name,” the older woman said as she came and laid the linens on the bed beside Speckled Fawn. “Mine is Hannah. Hannah Cline. My husband is the colonel at this fort.” She smiled. “Well, at least for now. I would hate to tell you how many different forts I have made my home in. Just as we get settled in, my Harold is sent somewhere else.”

“It mustn’t be the best way to live,” Speckled Fawn said, trying to keep up her end of the conversation when all she really wanted was to be left alone until night drew its dark cloak over the fort. By then she hoped to have stolen little Megan away from her father and she could flee past the sentries at the front gate.

“I hope I’m allowed to stay until a riverboat comes that can take me back to civilization. I can’t bear to stay in this wild and reckless land,” Speckled Fawn said. She looked slowly from one woman to the next. “Do you think that is possible? Or am I going to be taken elsewhere, perhaps another fort?”

“My dear, a riverboat is expected very soon, and my husband will gladly pay your passage anywhere you wish to go,” Hannah said, reaching down and gently shoving a fallen lock of hair back from Speckled Fawn’s eyes. “All you have to do is name a city and your way will be paid to that destination.”

“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness,” Speckled Fawn said, taking Hannah’s hand and gently holding it. “You are so very, very kind.”

She clung to the hand, pretending it gave her a measure of comfort, as she again lowered her eyes and elaborated on her fictitious story. “I was alone in my cabin with my husband and child,” she sobbed out. “Renegades came and killed my husband and daughter. They took me captive.”

She looked slowly up at the women. “While the renegades slept, I . . . I . . . managed to escape,” she said. “Somehow I managed to get to this fort. Thank the Lord, I was taken in. By the grace of God, I hope to begin a new life and put this all behind me. But it will be hard. I shall find it so hard to forget my husband and daughter’s murder.”

“We are so very sorry for all that you have been forced to endure,” Hannah said, sighing heavily. “We’ve brought you clean clothes, bathwater, and we shall bring you food soon. Is there anything else you might want?”

“Yes, there is,” Speckled Fawn said, her pulse racing, for she knew her request was going to widen these women’s eyes.

But she must ask, or her plan would never work.

“What is it, dear, and it is yours,” Hannah said. She gently placed a hand on Speckled Fawn’s cheek, although she visibly shuddered at touching such a dirty face.

“Could you please bring me a bottle of whiskey?” Speckled Fawn blurted out, amused to see how that suggestion affected the women.