Swift Horse

“I would love to go with you,” Marsha said, grabbing up her crochet work and placing it in her sewing basket. “It has been a while since I have gone riding for relaxation. Since my arrival here, I have had other things on my mind.”

“I believe riding for pleasure will help lift some of that burden from your heart,” Swift Horse said, leaving the bedroom with her. He turned to Pretty Doe. “When my sister awakens she will be ready to eat. You will find food warming on the stove in the kitchen.”

Pretty Doe smiled and nodded, then went into Soft Wind’s bedroom.

Marsha stepped outside into the warmth of the day with Swift Horse. “I shall be only a moment,” she murmured as she walked with Swift Horse toward his cabin. “I will go and tell Edward James our plans, then I shall meet you here shortly on my horse.”

White as the puffiest cloud one could see on a summer’s day, White Cloud was grazing in Marsha’s brother’s corral to the right of where she had established a clothesline for use on wash day.

“Do you need help in saddling your steed?” Swift Horse asked, not certain just how much she knew about riding horses or preparing them for riding.

“I will do fine,” she murmured, then smiling, walked awa

y from him. She knew that he doubted she knew much about horses. She would be glad to prove how wrong he was.

And it was wonderfully exciting to even think about being on a horse again simply for enjoyment. When her parents had died, so much of her spirit had died with them, and she was glad to feel it reviving within her. It was very exciting for her to think about being on White Cloud again.

She hurried home, and after telling her brother about her plans and seeing his approval in his smiling eyes, she ran to the corral, saddled White Cloud, and began her ride alongside Swift Horse.

She laughed softly when some of the tangled webs of autumn got caught in her hair as they rode from the village.

“Sometimes, of late, it seems the world is one huge cobweb,” she said, gazing over at Swift Horse just as he brushed some of those same webs from his long, sleek black hair.

“It is one of the mysteries of life,” he said, smiling. His gaze lingered on her and how she sat so straight in her saddle, her feet resting comfortably in the stirrups.

She held the reins masterfully and steadily, and he saw how occasionally she would stroke the horse’s neck, as though it were a special friend to her.

“Her name is White Cloud,” Marsha said, having caught him seeing her stroking her mare so lovingly. “She has been my horse since she came into the world. I am so glad to have been able to bring her to Kentucky with me after we had to sell off so many other horses before setting out on our journey.”

“Yes, I can see how familiar you are with the horse, and how much you care for it,” Swift Horse said, pleased to learn something else about her.

“Back in Georgia, my family had so many horses, sometimes I would lose count,” Marsha said, lost in thought. “Many of my friends raced horses. I didn’t choose to. I thought it cruel, how they pushed the horses beyond their limit in an effort to win this race or that.”

“Your love for the horse is very evident,” Swift Horse said, nodding. “And I feel your sense of pride in how you talk of it. I admire you for not having gone the route of the others, for I, too, do not push any horse too hard unless forced to.”

“White Cloud needs this outing today as much as I do,” Marsha said. “The last time I rode her was a day I’d rather not remember.”

“You are having trouble getting that day from your mind,” Swift Horse said, gazing over at the faint scar on her cheek where the fire had burned her, so glad that it was all but gone.

“Yes, but I will get past it,” Marsha said, her voice breaking. She smiled softly over at him. “I am doing much better now.”

“I can see in your eyes and your smile that you are,” Swift Horse said. “Come. I will show you a place that will help lift more of the burden from your heart. When you are there, all bad is erased, and only good is left to marvel at.”

“What I have seen of your land so far is beautiful,” Marsha said, making a sharp turn left, following Swift Horse’s lead.

“Our Creek country is noble and fruitful,” Swift Horse said, looking straight ahead as they rode slowly and carefully through the forest, weaving around this tree and that.

“All Creek belong to a totemic clan. My own people’s clan is the Wind, so named because a great fog had once shrouded this area and my ancestors were the first to emerge into the clear wind. Ours is one of the most powerful clans associated with a natural phenomenon—which is the wind. A clan is the cornerstone of Creek justice.”

“Your sister’s name has a part of your clan’s name in it,” Marsha said, drawing his eyes momentarily to hers once again.

“It was because she was born into a powerful family of chiefs,” Swift Horse said, smiling proudly at Marsha. “She, in truth, is a Creek princess, but because she does not wish to appear to any of our people as more special than they, she does not allow me or anyone to refer to her as princess.”

“I am discovering more and more just how special she is,” Marsha murmured. “Does my brother know her status as princess?”

“I told him, but I also told him never to call her that, for she would be disappointed in me for having told your brother,” Swift Horse said. “But since he is going to be her husband, I feel he should know everything about her. It is best never to have secrets when one becomes husband and wife.”

“Then will she finally tell him herself ?” Marsha asked, her eyes questioning him.