Swift Horse

“I know,” Marsha said, walking into the lamp-lit room. “I have never let myself adjust. There was always the one-eyed man getting in the way of seeing this home as mine. Because of him, we no longer have a mother and father to be a part of that home. But now? At this moment, Edward James, you make me feel as though I have just come home.”

He turned and hugged her, then closed and locked the door behind them.

He took her hand and led her over to a rocking chair and sat down beside her.

“First I want you to know that the store door is locked and it will be from now on when I am not in the store during working hours,” Edward James said. “I trusted too much, but living here among the Creek, I didn’t see anyone being brazen enough to break into my store. I see that I was wrong. I have trusted too easily.”

“You have such a good heart, that is why you trust so easily,” Marsha said. She ran her fingers through her thick golden hair, combing out the tangles caused by her times on the horses tonight.

Edward James leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Tell me from the beginning,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

“I shall,” Marsha replied. She settled back in the rocking chair, tired and needing the comfort of her bed, yet knew that she must tell Edward James everything first.

She began with how she had been there enjoying sewing, and how she had heard a noise in the outer room, thinking it was him coming back for something. But, instead, it had been . . .

“Alan Burton,” she said, shivering at the thought of how she had been treated by him. Then she told him everything up to the point that she had seen Swift Horse and how wonderful it had been that he had seemed to come out of the blue and rescued her.

“You actually rendered the one-eyed man unconscious?” Edward James said, chuckling. “My little sister who cringes when she has to even swat a fly—you knocked a man unconscious with a rock?”

“Edward James, I rendered One Eye unconscious, not just a nameless one-eyed man,” Marsha said, then sighed. “One day everyone will believe me. It has to happen. This man is getting clumsy and careless and not using the best of judgment about things.”

Marsha nodded. “Yes, it is One Eye, even though you still don’t believe me,” she murmured. “And actually, Edward James, I had hoped worse for him than just being unconscious. I was afraid that if I didn’t kill him, I’d be doomed.”

“And then he escaped anyway,” Edward James said, scowling. His jaw tightened. “He won’t get away with this. He won’t have enough places to hide. He’ll be found and dealt with.”

“He doesn’t need to hide because no one believes he is who he is,” Marsha said dryly. “But when everyone does finally believe me, I will feel sorry for One Eye’s people, his Wolf Clan of Creek,” Marsha murmured. “He’s their chief. They looked up to him. They see him as some sort of hero.”

Edward James listened, but didn’t say anything. Inside his heart, he was beginning to believe his sister.

“Edward James, One Eye plays the role of being a kind, generous man, a leader of his people, to the fullest, while in truth, he is a demon,” Marsha murmured. “But his time is almost over. I’ll see to that.”

“You look so tired,” Edward James said, rising from his chair. He reached a hand out for Marsha.

She placed her hand in his and rose from her own chair. They embraced, then Edward James walked her to her bedroom.

He embraced her one last time, then walked to his bedroom as Marsha closed the door behind her and sighed as she looked around slowly. For a time tonight she thought she would never see this room—or civilization as she always had known it—again.

She went to the window and saw that the moon was no longer in the sky.

Instead soft, pinkish hues were being reflected along the horizon from the first breath of morning that was suddenly there.

“Thank the Lord, I am home,” she whispered, sighing heavily.

Chapter 26

Let a man contend to the uttermost

For his life’s set prize, be it what it will!

—Robert Browning

The morning was soft and pretty when Swift Horse went to Bright Moon’s cabin and spoke his name outside the door. He knew his shaman’s habits very well, and he knew that he was always awake with the birds, preparing himself for his full day of meetings with anyone who might need his guidance.

This morning his chief needed guidance, for Swift Horse’s heart was heavy. He was beginning to believe now that the warrior who had been his friend for so long might not be at all who he had professed to be. Swift Horse could not believe that Marsha could be this mistaken.

“My chief, do come in,” Bright Moon said as he opened the door for Swift Horse, his long gray hair coiled around his head, a robe of fur warming his old body.

Bright Moon stepped aside, his brow furrowing into a questioning frown when he saw the troubled look on Swift Horse’s face.