Crossing at Sweet Grass

By Laurie G. Robertson

Kallie is a young pioneer woman traveling the rugged Oregon Trail when her life changes in an instant after an unsuccessful river passage at Sweet Grass. After their solitary wagon is attacked and her husband and brother-in-law massacred, she is swooped up by an Indian warrior who shouts an exultant war cry, drapes her across his horse, and races across the prairie with her as his captive.

Kallie must now rely on her inner-strength and stubbornness to survive within uncharted Indian territory. As the war party leads Kallie and her sister-in-law along the river, Kallies abductor, Brave Eagle, must reconcile his tumultuous emotions as his white captive quickly captures his heart. Shocked by her own intensity of desire toward her captor, Kallie surrenders to him without understanding exactly why. As Brave Eagle leads her to his village and into an uncertain future, Kallie becomes immersed in a world where danger and sickness lurk in the shadows and nothing is promised as her destiny rises up to meet her.

In this historical romance novel set in the early American frontier, a white woman discovers love and passion with her Indian captor on the Oregon Trail as fate leads her into a future she never could have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781491797778

Laurie G. Robertson

Author Laurie Robertson believes creating stories with interesting characters inspire greater connection and community building. Lifes adventures and lessons whether happy or sad are best shared. Thank you for reading.

Book preview

Major Character Listing

Kallie’s Family

Brothers: Michael and Caleb

Parents: Patrick and Ona

Neighbors: Millicent and Steward Luther

Husband: Armand

Sister-in-law: Elizabeth

Brother-in-law: Jacob

Brave Eagle’s Family

Mother: Pretty Shield

Father: Chief Flaming Arrow

Brother: Speckled Eagle

Girlfriend: Dawn Star

Dawn Star’s aunt: Walks Far

Friends: Bear, Running Brook

Weasel Tail, Meadow Grass

Flying Crow, Short Bull

War Chief: Black Hand

Shaman: Lost Buffalo; wife, Yellow Willow

Chapter 1: The Capture

Ahiyuslonan: To Come Dragging Along

Kallie could no longer struggle against the rapid rhythm of the horse’s pounding hooves. She desperately tried to calm herself by thinking escape might be possible. Since her captor hadn’t killed her along with the menfolk, maybe the savage would free her when he was done with her. The attack had happened so suddenly. In one brief moment, their solitary wagon had been attacked, her husband and brother-in-law had been massacred, and she and her husband’s sister had been left unprotected. The warrior had swooped her up, shouted an exultant war cry, and draped her across his horse.

Racing across the prairie, the horse moved far ahead of the other warriors. As Kallie lay sideways on the horse’s back, her body ached. Blood drained to her head as she clung desperately to the horse’s mane. If she lost consciousness, she would plummet to the ground. The sweat from the horse lathered in her face. Inside she screamed with terror, but her throat was too dry and swollen to cry out.

She had seen her captor’s face for only a brief moment, and his steady gaze had unnerved her. Kallie’s lean and muscular body had shaken uncontrollably when he had grabbed her from behind and lifted her onto his horse.

The summer sun was at its zenith. The brutal afternoon heat robbed the air of any moisture. Mud from the rains had turned into dusty clouds. The horse’s gait slowed, and the rest of the war party caught up. Soon battle cries quieted, and the horses needed to be watered. The group stopped at a rocky ravine where lush green willows and cottonwoods provided a sanctuary from the sun. Leaves fluttered in the wind, creating a rustling sound in the gentle breeze. A river was close by.

Even though the ravine was shady, it provided no comfort for Kallie. She figured the savages would soon split the bounty held in the cumbersome wagon they had dragged behind. The wagon held the only earthly possessions of her life. Soon everything she had left would be gone. Her thoughts were disrupted by her sister-in-law’s screams. Elizabeth pleaded with the two braves as they callously pulled her into the bushes.

Kallie stood in silence. Her long wavy hair had unraveled from its braid. All her strength had left her, and she was terrified. Her face held no expression except for the defiance in her eyes. Her cotton blouse, trimmed with lace, was torn, and her blue skirt and shawl were ripped and muddy. Her captor moved toward her, holding a large knife. Kallie stepped back. Her hands were still bound in front of her. The tight knots had cut into her wrists, rubbing them raw. Looking into his eyes and then again at the knife, Kallie moved to avoid touching him. His fast, direct manner quickly overpowered her. Grabbing her hands, he sliced through the rawhide knots that shackled her.

In a desperate attempt, Kallie screamed and darted past him. She ran like a frightened doe flushed from its hiding place. Kallie stumbled over tree stumps, and branches whipped her body. She gasped for air. The savage had stood there for a moment but then chased after her. She struggled toward the river, jumping over rocks at the shore.

When the savage grabbed her sleeve to turn her around, she lashed out with ferocity. Thrashing, Kallie dug her fingernails deep into his face. Blood ran down his cheek; her claw marks extended from his eye to his mouth. Reacting, her captor struck her face with the full force of his fist. The other men watched from afar. Kallie felt herself crumple to the ground and slip into darkness.

As she regained consciousness, Kallie was confused. The side of her face throbbed, and her eye felt swollen. She looked down to see her hands had been tied again. Her composure turned to terror as her captor tugged the ropes to lift her up. The savage touched her clothing with suspicion and pulled at it. She noticed how his sunbaked hand contrasted with the whiteness of her top. While the others looked on, the man cornered her. He moved in so close his breath prickled her neck. Without warning, she raised her knee and hit him in the groin with a sharp jab. Dropping to his knees, he doubled over. She was surprised by her strength and agility but feared she would now be killed. While submitting may have been the best thing to do, she had, once again, let her temper control the outcome. The kick had been an automatic response. Now she had to run before it was too late. Instead of ropes, this time it would be the knife. With her captor incapacitated, this was her final chance to escape.

Even though her hands were still tied, Kallie ran to the riverbank and crossed the river, balancing on the big flat-topped rocks. She reached the opposite shore and ran toward cover. Rushing into the brush, beating the saplings down as they whipped her, Kallie plunged ahead into the unknown. Fear gripped her. She ran until she had to catch her breath. Needing to assess the situation, she stopped to listen. The pounding of her heart and labored breathing were the only sounds she could hear. Sensing something was lurking close by, she looked up and met the yellow eyes of a young mountain lion. Helpless with her tied hands, she had no defense.

Kallie backtracked until she could hear the rumbling of the river again. She realized something had frightened the young cat. It no longer followed her. Smelling lavender, Kallie moved toward the plants and bent down to hide. It was there that she discovered a small cave hidden in the rock outcroppings where the river widened into a shallow expanse. Part of the water’s flow was dammed with sticks and rocks, creating a deep pond of clear water surrounded by willows and huge boulders. The beaver pond was sunny and a peaceful refuge in the midst of her misery. Kallie crawled through the small opening into the dark cave. The lavender smell comforted her as its sweet fragrance enveloped her surroundings. Still bound by the burning rope, she could not free her hands. The more she moved them, the tighter the knots became.

From the cave opening, she observed a beaver gathering sticks to repair its huge mounded home. In this gentle oasis, painted turtles relaxed on logs, absorbing the sun, and fish nibbled at water insects. Dragonflies landed on the lily pads for only seconds before the leopard frogs jumped at them. The lily flowers were in season, and their pink petals accentuated the landscape. The air was moist and refreshing. Her observations were interrupted by sounds of splashing. Kallie peered out. It was her captor. He seemed to no longer be hunting her. The Indian warrior casually swam naked and then stepped out of the pond. He possessed a hard, sinuous, muscular build. His wet skin glistened in the bright sunshine, and his long black hair dripped down his back. After he dried off, he put on his breechcloth and bent over to slip on his moccasins. He slowly gazed around as if he could sense her presence. Patiently observing, primal in his stance, he turned in her direction. Searching the ground for tracks, he darted into the woods, following her original path. Kallie watched apprehensively until she could no longer see or hear him.

In her hiding place, Kallie closed her eyes and allowed the scent of the lavender to comfort her. She decided to stay hidden even though her tracks might betray her. As her apprehension grew, her breathing became deeper. The sounds of the river rushed louder, while flashbacks of the raid filled her mind. The images haunted her until she heard a rustling in the bushes. As she cautiously peeked out, two fierce dark eyes stared coldly back at her.

Startled, Kallie immediately dropped her gaze and, with quiet resignation, slowly crawled out of her hiding place with her head bent down in submission. The savage grabbed her arm and lifted her up with a swift, powerful jerk. She fell backward, but his strong arms held her waist in a tight grasp. Placing her against his body, he forced her up against a boulder, which was scorching hot from the midday sun. The other braves jeered and laughed in the distance. This painful indignity angered and humiliated her.

Her captor’s breathing slowed, and he loosened the knot and then retied her hands tightly behind her back. He then took the rope, cinched it around her throat, and forced her to sit on the ground. He left her there and yelled something to one of his companions. After the man’s companion acknowledged him, her captor stormed toward the woods.

Left in the dirt, Kallie heard the voices of the other men. She did not recognize the strange dialect or know what kind of Indians had captured her. The savages passed by, all ignoring her with the exception of one who looked different from the rest.

Nonchalantly, he tugged on the rope that bound her, brought her head close to his, and spoke in English. I’ll loosen these, but you have to stay close. If you try to escape again, I’ll wet the rope so it dries around your neck extra tight. I will let my other two friends retrieve you, and I will be slow to find you. They will not be kind. He took off her bonds, pointed toward the river, and said, Wait down there. Then he left to catch up with the other braves.

As she stumbled down the river path, Kallie heard the soft cries of Elizabeth, her sister-in-law, who also had endured a terrible ordeal. When their eyes met, Kallie felt pity for her even though she had never trusted her much. Elizabeth had been such a strong woman but now was reduced to fragility after losing her dear husband and brother.

Kallie had not been so lucky in love; her husband, Armand, had become crazy when drunk, which was often. Remembering the crack of his whip and his whiskey breath filled her with hatred. She felt nothing but coldhearted relief that he was now dead and could no longer hurt her. Cautiously, she moved closer to Elizabeth, who was crouched down on the riverbank, staring ahead with swollen, tearful eyes.

In a hushed tone Kallie said, Elizabeth, they seem done with us, and the one who cut my ropes pointed to the water. Do you think we could wash off this dirt and destruction?

Elizabeth continued to stare into the distance and said nothing. Kallie cupped her hands and drew a long, cool drink of river water, relieving her thirst. Then she ventured up the trail to investigate. The heat of the day had intensified, turning the muddy river trail into dust. She peered through the bushes. The laughing braves were gambling. The horses quietly grazed, swatting the buzzing flies with their tails. The covered wagon was left untouched in the baking sun.

Kallie ran back to the riverbank and spoke in a soothing voice. Elizabeth, the savages seem distracted. It’s a good time to bathe if we want to be left unmolested.

Elizabeth retorted, We’ll never wash this filth off us. But still, Elizabeth peeled off her dirty dress and entered the river wearing only her ripped undergarments. Kallie completely disrobed and waded into the deepest part of the river. Even under these circumstances, the water felt glorious to her. This was her first refreshing moment since long before the raid. Kallie swam across the river to the other shore and then back again, letting her body flow with the current. The sensations from cool water ran through her, and she closed her mind to the future. The women rinsed the dirt from their clothes the best they could before laying them out to dry.

Kallie stood on the bank and let the sun dry the wetness of her nude body. She tipped her head to wring out her hair. When she heard a rustle in the bushes, she grabbed her clothes to cover herself. Turning her head, she met the eyes of her captor. Kallie froze in place, but the man lowered his eyes, turned away, and moved along the path.

Kallie had no idea what her captor or the other men were doing. She sat on the riverbank, positioned as far away from them as possible, as if this would make her safer. She pretended that maybe they would forget about her and Elizabeth and leave them alone. Kallie’s wet hair dripped and helped soothe the painful whip marks on her back. The sores had been slow in healing and throbbed. As Elizabeth stared off, Kallie crouched down and twisted her wedding ring off her finger. She tossed it into the river and watched the silver band sink to the muddy bottom. Rubbing her ring finger, she thought back to Armand, now dead on a swollen riverbank. Initially, his charm had enticed her so. He had rescued her from a destitute farm life after her parents had died from fever, and she had happily left with him. Whiskey quickly dashed her hopes about their exciting new life together. Armand had turned so mean that, instead of helping him during the raid, she had run toward the woods to escape him.

Leaving Elizabeth, Kallie picked a handful of comfrey leaves growing nearby. She placed the leaves upon a boulder and took a rock and crushed them into green pulp. Adding just a drizzle of water, she formed a paste and clumped it on a big elm leaf and placed it over her swollen eye.

Carefully, Kallie brought another poultice to Elizabeth and softly said, Elizabeth, place some of this on your cuts to speed the healing. You’d best get ready now—finish up with your dressing.

Elizabeth, coming out of her stupor, reacted with angry eyes. She snarled, You are acting like my brother Armand’s death is a relief. Oh, my poor, dear husband, Jacob, is dead also. You ran away while the rest of us were fighting. Kallie, you just ran away. I shall never forgive you!

Kallie said nothing in return because it was true. Pondering her new situation, she shivered while reflecting on recent events. She could not stop thinking about Armand’s stiff body and his lifeless blue eyes staring blankly at her. Yet she felt justified discarding her wedding ring. She was entering into the unknown with a strange warrior who now controlled her life. She wondered if her fate was to die.

The intense heat of the afternoon passed, and the silence was broken by distant laughter from the men. Ravenous from hunger, the women began foraging for food. Although they found a few berries and roots to eat, they weren’t satisfied. As both of the women drifted farther away from the men, Elizabeth said, This may be our only chance to escape. She broke into a frantic run and stormed ahead, disappearing around the river bend. Kallie resisted because she remembered the one warrior’s dire warnings about running away. Kallie heard Elizabeth scream and ran to investigate. Elizabeth had been stopped in her tracks. The same warrior who had threatened her was on horseback and thwarted Elizabeth’s escape attempt. Both women were fearful. The warrior took out his knife and moved it across his tongue, and he stared until they both lowered their heads.

Speaking in a combination of French and English, the savage introduced himself as Bear. He was an impressive man whose facial expression was not as severe as those of the others. He was friendly but indifferent to their plight. Instead of hurting them, he got off his horse and motioned for them to follow behind him.

Kallie noticed Bear walked differently from the other men, and his clothes were more colorful. Red war paint started at the top of his face and met stripes of yellow extending from his eyes to his jawline. White shell earrings decorated his earlobes. Besides the fringed, black-striped buckskin leggings that caressed his thighs, he wore only a dark breechcloth. A necklace made out of strips of long white shells ran parallel across his muscular chest. Three eagle feathers flared from the back of his long black shiny hair. On his shoulder was a beaded case filled with arrows.

His magnificent horse followed him. The horse’s black mane was braided and tipped with a large dangling feather. Huge red circles were painted around the horse’s eyes, and his forehead displayed a beautifully beaded medallion with geometric designs of blue, white, and red. When they arrived back to where the wagon was, Bear motioned the women to sit. He pointed. That is Flying Crow, and the other is named Weasel Tail.

Kallie did as she was told and sat down. Her heart ached when she saw Flying Crow and Weasel Tail ransacking the dilapidated wagon. She and Armand had once been so proud that it had been made of seasoned wood and reinforced with iron. The wagon top was doubled thick canvas waterproofed with linseed oil. All of her precious belongings were scattered on the ground. Even her medicine pouch—which contained laudanum, quinine, hartshorn for snakebite, citric acid for scurvy, and valuable opium—was tossed. Kallie carefully felt the hem of her dress, relieved that her vial of love potion was safely hidden. Her neighbor Millicent had given her the vial of brownish-looking substance as a going-away gift. Millicent had warned her to hide it wisely, for the potion was powerful and could be used as a weapon.

The brave named Flying Crow held Armand’s fiddle. Laughing at the sounds, he tugged the strings roughly. Bear gathered all the whiskey flasks, and Armand’s pistol and knives, along with a few cups, utensils, and soap. Their belongings were carelessly stuffed into buckskin pouches. Elizabeth perked up when she saw Bear pull out her beloved Bible. She desperately reached out for it, but Bear ignored her and turned away. Curiously looking at the thick book, he ripped out a couple of pages. Inspecting the paper, he stuffed it into his pack, ignoring Elizabeth’s scowl.

The massive brave named Weasel Tail picked up Elizabeth’s silver hairbrush. Both women instinctively looked at each other, carefully observing where he packed the precious item. The rest of the belongings were left scattered in the wind. Kallie’s throat tightened in anger and despair at the sight of it. Her possessions, left discarded in the bushes, represented the last of her world. The muscular men loaded her horse, Clara, with the stolen items. Clara reacted nervously to the men’s strange scent. She whinnied to Kallie for rescue, but Flying Crow sternly jerked the horse back in his direction. Glaring, he made it obvious that Kallie’s treasured horse was no longer her property. Disheartened, she bit her lower lip and looked down to avoid making the situation worse.

Elizabeth looked panicked when Weasel Tail lifted her onto Clara. He tied Elizabeth’s hands tightly behind her back so she could not escape. Bear’s horse was packed with bounty. Motioning Kallie to come closer, he bound her hands with twisted rope made out of buffalo hair. It extended several feet behind his horse and would force Kallie to walk at any pace he set. Leaping upon his horse in a swift, graceful motion, Bear made a clicking sound to start his horse moving.

The war party continued along the river, heading north. The brave who had captured Kallie had disappeared. The others never looked back at her as they advanced forward, so she left the most obvious trail she could. She hoped that if a rescue party came after them, they could follow her trail. Tired and hungry, she could barely keep up with the pace of the horse. The muscles in Kallie’s legs tightened with stiffness, and her feet blistered. She had lost her bonnet, so her skin was sunburned. Flies buzzed around her. She prayed for strength, but the torture continued until early evening. The extended rope became taut by her resistance, and the horse began to drag her. She struggled to stay alive.

Chapter 2: Reflections of Rage

Iyoyakeca: Be Distressed

Brave Eagle rode as if his life depended on it. He had told his best friend, Bear, to watch over his captive and keep her safe from the other two. Bear had nodded his head and waited for more explanation, but Brave Eagle had given none. He had leaped on his horse, Wind Racer, and galloped toward open country, leaving everyone behind, including his captive. He would meet up with the group later.

Exhilaration from the raid still surged in Brave Eagle’s blood. Earlier in the day, he had led the war party with great determination, for he loved the glory of blood and battle. He had made coup, representing his bravery. He had felt alive again, and adrenaline had surged through his veins. Feeling powerful and invincible, he and his friends had ridden with the wind.

He was proud of the red dot on his coup feather that indicated his killing deed in the raid. Although he was already known throughout the land for his horse-catching and trading abilities, many tales about this summer sojourn would fill the winter nights. The captive would bring him prosperity and prestige when he traded her at the great Sun Ceremony. There, numerous tribes gathered together for trade and worship. His hostage would bring a high price.

His lip tasted of blood, and uneasiness overcame him. He thought back to his unexpected struggle with his captive. Weasel Tail and Flying Crow had laughed loudly at him after witnessing it. Humiliation had quickly turned to anger as his friends’ glances, once full of admiration, had changed to mockery. He felt the heat of embarrassment even now as he thought about it. He pressed into his horse’s flanks to drive him faster.

He rode hard until he came to a pond, a place to water his horse. Brave Eagle stared into the water’s green depth, ashamed that his anger had once again controlled him. It seemed to always control him. The action against the white woman opened the wound locked deep inside him. His knuckles whitened as he attempted to crush a stone within his clenched fist. Giving up, he sent the stone sailing across the waters until it sank, leaving nothing but concentric circles rippling away from the splash. Refusing to grieve his wife’s untimely death, he had been holding an angry grudge against life. He cursed the earth itself, and his heart had turned to stone. Now, as he was caught within his own torment, his emotions rushed out in a rage.

His heart ripped open and unleashed his grief. Sitting with his head down, Brave Eagle wept. He endured the pain of his fears until he was completely drained of emotion. Shaking, he stood up and looked at the sky. For the first time since her death, he wished his wife, Two Moons, peace in the spirit land. The breeze picked up, and he smiled, sensing Two Moons had heard him. He thought to himself that it might be time to live again. Wind Racer briefly touched his nose to the side of Brave Eagle’s face. His horse turned his ears straight up and moved his head up and down, making Brave Eagle smile.

Brave Eagle thought about the day’s events. Before riding off, he had peered through thick willows. The other woman captive hugged the shore and cried sorrowfully while his captive climbed out of the water. She had mesmerized him, for he had never seen a naked white woman before. He thought about her agile body, curvy buttocks, and the graceful way she had moved. He had watched as she wrung out the water dripping from her wavy hair. As she tipped her head to the side, wounds had become noticeable. They were angry red whip marks that snaked down her back. Noting their severity, he had wondered to himself if the woman was like a horse that did not respect urging or whipping. His cheek still throbbed from the four long scratches carved by her nails. With such a fighting spirit she would bring a good price, though he would have to keep her wounds hidden from prospective bidders.

The expression on his white captive’s face lingered in his memory. He remembered the instant their eyes had met. Her eyes had reminded him of the green river stones he used to polish as a boy. Her skin was smooth and white. Her hair was wild and curly. Following the curves of her feminine body, he had wondered about her age. She looked all of twenty years. She was a strange, alluring creature, an object of curiosity. Something stirred in him, and he felt unsure of his