“I’m much happier, that’s for sure,” Abraham said, rising and holding the fawn near and dear to his heart. “Because of you, I’m happier. Thank you, Swift Horse. Thank you.”
“I am happy to see that you are happy,” Swift Horse said, turning and walking toward the door. “I will see you tomorrow, Abraham. Get a good rest.”
“I most certainly will,” Abraham said, walking with Swift Horse to the door, closing it behind him after Swift Horse left.
Chapter 20
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind.
—William Shakespeare
After having knocked more than once on Marsha’s door, Swift Horse could not help but be concerned. Edward James hadn’t said that she had gone anywhere. She should be home. He went to a window and peered inside.
What he saw made his heart skip a beat.
He saw Marsha’s sewing equipment spilled along the floor beside a chair, and she wasn’t anywhere in sight. And knowing how neat she was, having made Edward James’s store “as neat as a pin,” seeing her spilled sewing equipment and not seeing signs of her anywhere made a fear enter his heart that made Swift Horse feel ill.
He went back to the door. He tried it, but it was locked securely from the inside. That inspired hope, for if the door was locked, surely no intruders had come and caused Marsha some sort of trouble. Then he remembered the other door.
He knew that the door to the store wasn’t always locked, for it was known wide and far by those who frequented the trading post that if anyone sneaked into the store for any reason, they could get shot on the spot.
Perhaps this time someone didn’t heed that warning and went inside, especially if they knew that Edward James wasn’t there to hold a rifle on them if they were caught there illegally.
Truly fearing for Marsha’s safety now, he ran to the front door and found it agape.
Someone had stolen Marsha away!
“Marsha!” he cried as he rushed into the living quarters, stopping and staring again at the spilled sewing equipment. He turned and looked in jerks around him, stopping again at the spilled things.
“Someone did come and take her away,” he growled, his teeth clenched, his hands in tight fists at his sides.
Breathing hard, and with a determination he had never felt before, he ran through the store, went outside, and fell to his knees and studied the footprints. He searched the ground and found footprints he knew were made only moments before, then stood tall and gazed, pondering, at his sister’s cabin.
If he went and told Edward James about Marsha’s disappearance, it would only slow things down, and he knew that time was wasting already, for he had no idea how long Marsha had been gone, or with whom.
He had to follow the tracks! And he would rather not have anyone with him to interfere in the search. The tracks soon led into the forest. It would be hard to follow them now, he knew, with the leaves such a cushion to anything or anybody who would be traveling over them. But all that he needed was the direction the person had taken after abducting Marsha, and he had it!
He hurried home, got his steed, and returned to the tracks that he had found.
He was puzzled, however, when he found another fresh pair, and he was taken aback when he noticed something different about those tracks. Someone had cleverly tied fur around the horse’s hooves. He knew the trick and why it was used.
But this time it hadn’t worked.
Swift Horse knew the art of tracking too well, and knew that more than one horse was involved in this abduction.
But the main thing was that he had a direction to go. He now suspected who was guilty of the crime. The direction of the tracks indicated to Swift Horse that the cowkeeper had come and abducted Marsha.
Swift Horse was stunned that anyone would be this ignorant, or bold, to come right into the Creek village and steal the woman away who was soon to be the Creek chief’s bride. How did he think he could hide her without being found?
“The stupidity of a white man, that’s why,” Swift Horse grumbled. He only hoped that that stupidity did not go further than the abduction itself, for if she was touched wrongly, sexually, or harmed in any way, ah, pity the man who did this to his woman!
With eyes alert as a cat’s in the night, every bone in his body tight with anger, Swift Horse continued onward.
Chapter 21
So, either by the picture or my love,