Swift Horse

Chapter 1

That I did always love,

I bring thee proof;

That till I loved you,

I did not love enough—

—Emily Dickinson

Kentucky, 1850

October, the Corn-ripening Moon

The four-room log cabin was being warmed by a slow-burning fire in the stone fireplace. Colorful blankets and plush pelts hung along the walls, while the aroma of venison stew cooking in a huge brass kettle filled the air. Midafternoon sunlight splashed a golden glow through the windows into the room.

Swift Horse, who was the tyee, chief, of the Wind Clan of the Creek tribe, sat in a wooden rocking chair before the fire. He slowly rocked as he discussed the upcoming hunt with his close friend One Eye, of the Wolf Clan of Creek, who sat in a second rocking chair a few feet away.

Soft Wind, Swift Horse’s younger sister, sat on a blanket on the floor a short distance back from her brother and One Eye, preparing corn for the upcoming meal. Corn was her Creek people’s main staple of food. Many delectable, nourishing dishes were made from it.

Soft Wind’s face was beautiful, her body petite and clothed today in a prettily beaded doeskin dress and matching moccasins. She wore a ribbon woven into the lone braid that hung down her straight and narrow back, and a necklace of shells around her neck.

As the hum of voices between her brother and One Eye continued, Soft Wind held a wooden pestle as she ground corn in a deep, round wooden bowl.

But her mind was elsewhere.

It was on a man, another friend of her brother and their people. She was in love with Edward James Eveland, a white man who was the resident trading-post storekeeper at their village. She planned to marry Edward James soon.

Her clan approved of Edward James even though his skin was white, but she hadn’t yet announced her marriage plans to anyone but her brother. Once she got the chore of telling One Eye behind her . . . then she could finally reveal her happy news to everyone!

She shifted the wooden bowl on her lap and paused as she gazed up at her brother, then moved her gaze slowly over to One Eye. She had been waiting for the opportune moment to tell One Eye of her wedding plans, yet dreaded telling him her news as well, for deep down she feared his reaction. He had never kept his intention to marry her a secret, and had long talked of her being his wife.

This was why she was going to break the news to him in the presence of her brother. If One Eye reacted as badly as she expected him to, surely her brother would finally see that he was not trustworthy.

Soft Wind saw a shiftiness about One Eye that her brother was blinded to. The look in his single eye reflected his behavior, and she couldn’t understand how her brother, the astute person that he was, couldn’t see this character flaw. It could only be that he just wouldn’t let himself.

He and One Eye had been friends since they were young braves learning how to walk in the moccasins of a man. Both were now chiefs of their separate clans.

As Swift Horse and One Eye continued talking about the hunt, Soft Wind gazed at her brother again with admiration. He was a chief at his young age of twenty-six, and a man everyone respected. He was so handsome today in his colorful beaded jacket, fringed buckskin breeches, and moccasins. A wool sash was tied at his waist, and a wide cloth headband, decorated only with a feather, held his raven-black hair back from his sculpted face.

Yes, he was handsome and noble, this brother of hers, a man of much kindness and intelligence, and a leader of leaders. Their father, who had been chief before Swift Horse, had taught him well. He’d died not long ago, at th

e hands of renegades, as had their mother.

Soft Wind gazed at Swift Horse’s bold nose, his high cheekbones, his full lips, and eyes that blazed with intelligence. His sinewed muscles made the seams of his jacket strain at his shoulders and arms.

She thought again of another man, the man she loved. He was handsome, too, but in a different way. He was not as muscled, or as tall as her brother, but his blue eyes had mystified her the first time she had looked into them. His warm, sincere smile had brought her into loving him almost immediately.

When there was a slight pause in the conversation between her brother and One Eye, Soft Wind started to seize the opportunity to tell One Eye about her decision to leave her personal lodge, to move into another—a man’s, whose bed she would share every night. But again the talk resumed about the hunt, and Soft Wind sighed to herself and resumed grinding the corn into a fine meal that she planned to use that evening.

The longer she waited, the more apprehensive she grew about telling One Eye at all. But if she didn’t tell him personally, and he found out otherwise, it would truly anger him, and something told her that it was best not to anger him needlessly. So, she waited.