Sunflower (41 page)

She smoothed the coverlet drawn up beneath Kase’s chin, and suddenly she was reminded of Zach’s words. Caleb had brought Kase a horse, an Indian pony of some sort. She tried but failed to remember the word Zach used to describe the pony. If the scout felt it best not to tell Kase about the horse, she would defer to his wishes.

Analisa undressed and slipped into her nightgown. It had become her habit recently to pull on Caleb’s flannel robe over her nightdress. As she cinched the belt tight about her waist to close the wrapper, Analisa recalled something else Zach had said. “It’ll be a while before I can trust that pony not to hightail it back to wherever it came from ...” She sank to the side of the bed and sat lost in thought. Slowly an idea began to take shape in her mind, and with every passing second Analisa became more certain about what she intended to do.

The front door opened and closed. Stepping into the parlor, she found Ruth and Abbie just returning from the dance.

“Analisa! I hope we didn’t wake you.” Ruth looked concerned as she watched Analisa close the bedroom door behind her. “Is Caleb asleep?”

“Caleb is not here, Ruth. I need to talk with you for a moment.” Analisa saw the curiosity in Abbie’s eyes as the cook left the two women alone.

Ruth’s face was shadowed with worry. She crossed the room and draped her ivory shawl over the back of a chair.

Analisa admired Ruth’s calm. She never pushed or expressed impatience. The woman was content to wait until Analisa was ready to talk.

“I am going to leave here tonight, Ruth, and I want you to give me your word that you will not tell anyone that I have gone. Please watch over Kase for me.”

“What! Where are you going?” Ruth’s eyes were wide and searching. “You aren’t going after Caleb, are you?”

“Yes, in a way, but I am not going to let him know I am following him.”

“How in the world are you going to track him in the dark? Even if you knew where you were going, you would be insane to travel alone.”

Analisa shook her head, “I can’t tell you, Ruth. The more you know, the more you could tell the major if he asks. Caleb’s safety depends on secrecy.”

Ruth stood and walked across the room only to sit down again, this time on one of the straight-back oak chairs beside the dining table. She leaned an elbow on the
tafelkleed
and turned her worried expression on Analisa.

“What about your own safety?” Suddenly Ruth’s face took on an expression of anger that Analisa had never thought to see there. “Did Caleb ask you to do this? If he did—”

“No, Ruth,” Analisa tried to explain. “He knows nothing about it.”

“What do you hope to accomplish, dear? Have you thought this through?”

“Yes.” Analisa nodded. “I have to go, Ruth. It may be my only chance to find out if my brother or sister is nearby.”

“What?”

“There is much to explain and very little time. I am asking for your trust and your help. I cannot tell you more.”

“But surely Caleb knows what this means to you and would help you.”

“Not this time, Ruth. He has asked me to wait until he has finished his work here. This may be the last chance I have; his job here is nearly over.”

Ruth sighed, and Analisa knew that the woman must have sensed the depth of her determination, for she did not attempt to sway her. “I want to look into something before you go. It won’t take very long.”

Analisa started to protest.

“Please?” Ruth asked.

“I will change. That will give you a few moments, Ruth, but I am leaving soon.”

Ruth Storm moved toward the door to the room she shared with Abbie. Her hand on the knob, she turned to face Analisa and asked, “When is your birthday, Analisa?”

“My birthday?”

“Yes.” Ruth nodded. “When were you born?”

Although she was puzzled by the question, Analisa told Ruth the date of her birth.

Without another word, Ruth entered the smaller room.

It took Analisa little time to change once again. This time she donned her plaid wool dress. Glad that she had not discarded the old-fashioned gown, she smoothed the wide skirt and then changed her shoes. The worn black high-tops would do. All the while, she tried not to think of the darkness outside or of the miles of open country she would have to cross alone. If she allowed herself to dwell on the dangers ahead, she knew her courage would fail her. Hastily, she took down her dark wool winter shawl and crossed it over her breasts, tying it at her waist. It would protect her from the cool spring night.

Opa’s gun rested on a high shelf that bordered the room. She could not see it from where she was, nor could she reach all the way to the back of it, so she pulled her trunk away from the wall and stood on it. She groped among the folded clothes until she felt the cold metal of the shotgun. Carefully, she lifted it down and then replaced her trunk against the wall. Opening the lid, she dug out the tin of bullets and, clutching them, stood up.

The soft light from the lamps in the parlor crept through the open door of the bedroom. Glancing around the shadowed room, Analisa checked one last time to be certain that she was ready. As a final precaution she repinned the crown of braids upon her head. She was ready. Moving to the side of the bed, she bent and kissed her son’s brow, careful not to disturb him. Nothing would happen to her, she vowed. Nothing would keep her from coming back to Kase.

Quietly she withdrew from the room and closed the door behind her. Ruth was seated at the dining table, her head bent as she studied a sheet of paper. A worn leather-bound book rested beside the page. When she noted Analisa’s entrance, she lifted the volume and thumbed through the pages. Ruth’s glasses were once again in place, perched on the end of her nose.

“I’m ready, Ruth.”

“Give me a few minutes more, my dear. I’ve made a pot of tea, and I suggest you have a cup before you leave. Did you think about packing yourself some food?”

Analisa felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Embarrassed at having almost forgotten such an important item, she walked into the kitchen to pack food and water. When that was done, she poured a cup of tea and joined Ruth at the table.

“It’s not much, but enough to help, I believe. At least I am reassured.” Looking up from her work, Ruth peered at Analisa over the rims of her glasses.

Wary, afraid that Ruth would try to talk her out of leaving, Analisa was hesitant to ask her to explain and so sat in silence.

“This,” Ruth said, indicating the page before her, “is your horoscope. It is a chart that maps out the twists and turns your life will take, according to the position of the stars on the day you were born.”

“Stars?” Analisa stared down at the paper. Strange squiggles and lines that resembled worms and arrows surrounded a circle in the center of the page. The sphere was divided into pie-shaped wedges, the whole drawing making as little sense to Analisa as Ruth’s words did. She sipped her tea and tried not to lose her patience. Eventually, everything Ruth did made sense, although the reason was not always apparent at first.

“It would take too long for me to explain all of this to you now,” Ruth said, “but it is something I find very helpful when I have a major decision to make. You see, you were born under a certain sign that was determined by where the stars were on the day that you were born. You are a Pisces, your symbol is the fish.” She pointed to a small mark on the page that looked like a floating water beetle.

Analisa sighed and stared at Ruth.

“Oh, dear.” The woman appeared frustrated by her lack of time as well as Analisa’s failure to find her words comprehensible. “Although I am not at all delighted about this scheme of yours, Analisa, I don’t think you could have chosen a better time. Your stars are all favorable right now, and anything that you attempt, should succeed.”

“Good.” Slapping her palms against the decorative tablecloth, Analisa stood and looked down at Ruth. She had delayed long enough. “I do not know what you just said, but I will hope that you are right about my chances for success. I am going now.”

The sun seemed intent upon exerting the strength it had gained with the arrival of May. Although the heat of midday had abated, the sun still blazed hot enough to rouse Analisa from a fitful sleep. Stretched out beneath the shade of a budding maple, she awoke with a start, to discover that exhaustion had forced her to abandon her vigil. She sat up and with an open palm pushed back the wild tangle of sun-bleached hair from her eyes. Opa’s gun lay on the ground beside her. Rubbing her hand against her hip, Analisa tried to ease the ache in her side as she searched the ground for the cause of her discomfort. A sharp rock was embedded in the soil, one she had overlooked earlier. Her intent had been to close her eyes for a moment or two, but she could tell by the sun’s position that she had slept for hours. Drawing her knees toward her chest, she rested her elbows on them and propped her chin in her cupped hands.

The pony grazed lazily nearby. Analisa noted thankfully that the knot she’d tied in its rope halter still held. The pinto seemed content to graze and drink from the small spring she’d discovered trickling out of the rocks not far from the maple. She scratched at the irritating wool of her plaid gown and wished for the hundredth time that day that she’d worn one of her old calicos; she’d never expected such warm weather. Wide awake at last, she stood and stretched, her hands at the small of her back, her gaze ever alert to the surrounding area.

She’d come upon the small stand of trees in the dark and after a cursory walk around its perimeter, decided it was as safe a vantage point as she would find so near the renegade camp. Virtually surrounded by rocks and trees, the small grassy area stood high up on a bluff above the river valley that harbored what she assumed to be Red Dog’s camp. True to Zach’s prediction, the pony had returned home, bringing Analisa with him. She started toward the animal and, with her first step, became all too aware of the quivering fatigue of her overworked muscles. There was not a bone in her body that didn’t ache from the long ride. As she stroked the pony’s velvety soft nose, she glanced skyward, tried to judge the time of day by the position of the sun, and guessed it was nearly three in the afternoon.

Kneeling near the small puddle formed by the underground spring, she cupped her hand and lifted a mouthful of crystal water toward her lips. The liquid trickled from between her fingers and soaked the front of her wool dress. She sighed; she had always disliked the thick smell of damp wool. Another handful of the cold water quenched her thirst, and she used a third to splash her face, smoothing it over her eyes before she pushed back her hair once again.

Last night, shortly after the pony ambled into the clearing, Analisa had discovered the Sioux camp in the valley below the bluff. In the clear, chilled darkness that surrounded her, she had walked as near to the edge of the bluff as she dared and then knelt down. Carefully using her hands to explore the ground ahead of her, she’d crawled to the very edge of the bluff that jutted out over the valley below, and peered down into the darkened chasm. Campfires burned low before many of the Indian dwellings. The flames danced and flickered, illuminating the sides of the conical structures with sinister, wavering shadows. Except for the occasional yelp of a dog or whinny from the shuffling herd of horses near the river mouth, the village remained cloaked in silence.

Analisa had watched the firelight in the valley below and wondered if Meika and Pieter were indeed in one of the crude shelters. And what of Caleb? Did he ride in and out of the camp at will? Was he disguised? She had no intention of entering the camp, and certainly not in the dark, nor did she have an inkling as to what her next move should be. Exhausted, she had decided to rest while darkness provided a cover. She’d felt her way back along the ground and, once she was certain she was out of sight of the village below, prepared to rest.

Sleep had evaded her. Every sound drew her spine as straight as if she were a soldier at attention. While the long hours of darkness crept on toward dawn, her mind had played over and over the events of the previous evening. The dance, Caleb’s return and subsequent departure, and her decision to find the camp—all these events plagued her thoughts and kept sleep at bay. She had cradled Opa’s gun to her breast, clutching it tighter with every sound, every sigh of the wind in the new leaves above her, every slight disturbance the pony made during the night.

Sometime after dawn, the sun’s heat had heightened her exhaustion, and Analisa had finally slept. Now she was awake at last and determined to enter the village and seek out her siblings. She gave the pony one last pat on the nose and tugged playfully at the shock of mane that fell forward between its ears before she turned it loose to find its own way down into the ravine below.

Her heart beating rapidly, Analisa tasted the dry metallic flavor of fear in her mouth as she edged toward the rim of the bluff on her hands and knees, dragging the gun along beside her. She stayed close to the ground and when she reached the edge of the cliff, raised her head just enough to see out over the ledge.