Swift Horse

“I know,” Abraham said, then nodded. “I plan to take Sandy home and make certain she doesn’t get loose again. My heart would break if anything happened to my pet.”

“Mine too,” Marsha murmured, reaching a hand to Sandy and gently stroking her. She had been with Abraham the two times he had planned to set the animal free but had been, in the end, unable to do it. And she understood. She loved the animal almost as much as if were human!

“The animal is so adorable,” she murmured.

“I’ll be seein’ you two soon again,” Abraham said, turning and walking away from them, Sandy at his heels.

“As fond as he is of that animal, I don’t doubt that he’ll keep a close watch on her now,” Marsha said, then began walking again with Swift Horse. “I will miss you so much when you are gone on the hunt.”

“As I will miss you,” Swift Horse said, smiling over at her. “As I always have when we are apart.”

“

I love the winters so much,” Marsha murmured. “You are home most of the time. It is good to have you with me while I bake, sew, and play with our daughter.”

“She, too, will one day be school age,” Swift Horse said. “Are you certain you will send her to a white school, or teach her yourself, as you did before our son asked to go to school with Jimmy?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Marsha said, sighing. “I still have time to think about it. She is only three.”

“Our marriage is a good one,” Swift Horse said, stopping and placing his hands at Marsha’s shoulders, turning her to face him. “I will never forget the day we spoke our vows, how beautiful you were, how my people accepted you so quickly.”

“I think of that day often, too,” Marsha murmured, even now catapulted back in time, remembering how gently and sweetly Swift Horse had treated her during the ceremony.

And, ah, how handsome he had been!

He had worn a scarlet cloak trimmed in fur, and his thick hair, also intertwined with fur, had hung in one long braid down his back. All of this matched the fur he wore around his neck that denoted him as chief of his Wind Clan. But it had been the sheath of eagle feathers that he had carried that day—and how he had presented it to her—that had been the most special.

It was mainly what he said that clung to her, making her heart soar each time she remembered his words: “These are the feathers of the eagle, which is the swiftest of birds,” he had said to her. “These feathers are a sign of my love for you—my devotion, forever and ever.”

That sheath of feathers now hung on the wall just above their bed, where she could see it every night before she went to sleep with her beloved husband, and each morning as she awakened to a brand-new day with Swift Horse.

After their vows had been exchanged and they had been blessed by Bright Moon, they had joined their people for a village-wide dance and a feast of bear’s ribs barbecued with honey.

The height of her wonder at this special day had come when she had danced around the outdoor fire with her husband as everyone watched—their eyes expressing happiness and peace . . . such a pride for their beloved chief.

From that moment onward she knew that she was truly accepted by his people as one of them; as one with them.

Loud cheers behind her at the chunkey yard broke through her reverie. She turned and gazed in that direction, then looked at her husband with questioning in her eyes. “I wonder who won this time?” she murmured.

“Let us go and see,” Swift Horse said, turning with Marsha, both walking briskly back toward their village to where the game was being played. They were so proud of their son and nephew as they challenged each other as to who was the better player of the game.

When they arrived at the chunkey yard, they saw that neither their son nor nephew won this time. Sharp Nose’s son Long Nose had won. He was their same age, a son who came after Sharp Nose’s complete recovery after having been downed by One Eye’s arrow that terrible day.

His other son, Four Leaves, was away from the village, married to a woman of another clan—the Wolf Clan, which had at one time had One Eye as its chief.

Once One Eye was gone, another chief was named, and it was that chief’s daughter who had fallen in love with Four Leaves after she had come with her father to check on the health of Sharp Nose as he recovered from the arrow wound.

It had been love at first sight, although both children were not of the age they could marry.

“Our son and nephew can’t win every time,” Marsha said, laughing softly. She turned with Swift Horse and walked toward their home. “Now let’s go see how our daughter and niece are faring,” she murmured.

Life for them all was good and without the interference of whites.

Fort Hill was no longer active.

Those who had been there, had been stationed elsewhere.

As it was, the Creek warriors could enjoy their hunts, and the women could enjoy their lives of being wives and mothers.