Swift Horse

Marsha ran and joined the crowd that had gathered. She edged closer to another woman that she had become acquainted with and who was one of Soft Wind’s best friends.

“What’s wrong?” Marsha asked as she gazed questioningly into Red Flower’s dark eyes. “What happened?”

“Some young braves did not go to where they are supposed to go when they practice shooting their arrows,” Red Flower murmured. “Instead they were in the forest just behind Soft Wind’s lodge. An arrow . . . it . . . came through one of Soft Wind’s open windows.”

“You say an arrow came through a window?” Marsha gasped. “Does that mean that . . . that . . . Soft Wind was injured by that arrow?”

Red Flower’s eyes lowered, then rose again, tears streaming from them. “Yes, that is what I found too hard to say,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Lord, no,” Marsha said, turning when she heard footsteps coming up behind her in a hard run.

When she saw that it was Edward James, she reached a hand out for him, but he wasn’t even aware that she was there. His eyes were on Soft Wind’s open front door.

He rushed inside just as Bright Moon stepped outside and faced everyone. What the shaman held made gasps ripple through the crowd, for it was two halves of an arrow, both dripping with blood.

Marsha felt instantly ill to her stomach at the sight, for she knew that he had taken that arrow from Soft Wind’s body! Flashes of that day when her parents were murdered by deadly arrows came to Marsha, making her feel suddenly dizzy.

Red Flower saw Marsha weave back and forth, and grabbed for her, placing an arm around Marsha’s waist as they listened to what the village shaman had to say.

“I know that you are eager to know Soft Wind’s condition,” he said to the people. “A young brave’s arrow went astray, flew through Soft Wind’s open window, and sank into her left shoulder. It is not a mortal wound, but one that will require much attention and time for healing. But she is going to be all right. The wound has been medicated. Now all she needs is rest.”

He looked slowly around the crowd. “Return to your homes,” he suggested. “Now that you know that all will be well with Soft Wind, you can go about your daily activities.”

Marsha saw the shaman’s brow furrow into an angry scowl as a young brave was ushered through the crowd and stopped before him.

“My son Four Leaves,” Sharp Nose said, holding the young brave by an arm. “He has come to apologize for not having gone to the practice range where he should have been.”

Bright Moon sighed heavily, and being a man of good nature and forgiveness, he placed a gentle hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Young brave, you have something to say?” he asked blandly.

Four Leaves’s eyes lifted and wavered as he looked into Bright Moon’s. “I am sorry,” he gulped out. “I did not follow my father’s teachings. I am sorry that my arrow went astray and . . . and . . . harmed Soft Wind.”

Bright Moon stepped aside and gestured toward the door. “I accept your apology, but someone else needs it, too. Soft Wind is waiting for you,” he said thickly. “Apologize, then go to your home and say prayers that will bring comfort into your own heart.”

The child nodded, then ran inside. Everyone waited for him to come out again, and when he did, he was smiling broadly. “She forgave me,” he said, gazing up at Bright Moon. Four Leaves then looked slowly over at his father, who was still angry at his son for the wrong that he had done. “Father, she . . . forgave . . . me,” he gulped out. “Bright Moon forgave me. Do . . . you . . . ?”

Sharp Nose scowled for a moment longer, then bent to his knees and grabbed Four Leaves into his arms. “Yes, I forgive you, but you must never disobey again,” he said thickly.

“I never shall,” Four Leaves sobbed. “I promise, ahte, father. I promise.”

Sharp Nose lifted his son into his arms, and with his chin held proudly high, walked through the crowd toward his cabin. Then all attention turned to Swift Horse as he emerged from the cabin.

“My sister will be well soon,” he reassured. “But her wedding has to be postponed due to her injury.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd, for everyone knew of Soft Wind’s upcoming nuptials and had approved of them, for all approved of Edward James being her husband.

Edward James stepped outside and came to Marsha, interrupting her thoughts. “Marsha, Soft Wind is asking for you,” he said thickly. “She wants you to sit with her while I return to my work at the store and her brother goes into council with his warriors.”

“Me?” Marsha asked, her eyes widening. “She . . . wants . . . me? She asked for me?”

“Yes, you,” Edward James said, smiling. “Will you come? Will you sit with her?”

Marsha recalled the food she had left cooking on her stove, and the pie that she had left on the windowsill to cool, then smiled back at her brother. “Yes, I would love to,” she murmured. “But, Edward James, will you take the food off the stove for me and the pie from the windowsill? Will you bring both here? We shall share our dinner with Soft Wind and Swift Horse. You know that I always make enough for an army.”

Then she grew solemn. “But perhaps she is too ill to eat,” she said, her voice breaking.

“She needs rest, but she also needs nourishment that will help her health improve, so no, she is not too ill to eat, and will even welcome it,” Edward James said. He turned to Swift Horse. “I will bring food back for all of us.”

Swift Horse nodded and smiled, then turned to Bright Moon. “Will you stay?” he asked softly.