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She laid a hand on her belly again. She had not been completely honest with Thunder Horse. She was not really certain her child would be able to endure this long journey, but she would fight hard to keep it safe.
Chapter Thirty
The journey had been long and sometimes gruelling, especially for those who were older. Many stops had to be made along the way for people to eat and rest.
Jessie had soon learned that water was carried in bags formed of the dried intestines of animals. She had found it interesting that when the Sioux expected to walk far, they put fine, dry grass in their moccasins to cushion their feet.
She, too, had walked some days when she had gotten tired of being on her horse. She had filled her moccasins with dried grass. To her surprise she had felt as though she were walking on clouds.
But she was riding again today, filled with an excitement she had not felt now for many days. Everyone now knew that they had only a short distance to travel before they finally reached their destination.
Two Stones and some other warriors had gone on ahead, scouting, and had returned only moments ago saying that by nightfall, fires would be built where their new lodges would soon be erected.
They would have no more long days and nights on the trail.
Two Stones had reported that, upon quick observation, the reservation they were assigned to was very different from those they had seen elsewhere. It would be a place where the next generation of Sioux could still know the thrill of the hunt. The land was filled with white-tail deer, and was beautiful.
Soon they could plant their seeds; there would be a bountiful harvest next autumn.
Two Stones had spoken to those members of their band already camped on the reservation. The most wonderful news of all was that during the time when the Fox band had been separated into halves, hardly anyone already at the reservation had died.
Those at the reservation had felt deep sorrow when they heard about the massacre of their elders by the outlaws, especially the Old One, their band Historian. Learning of the deaths had thrown them into mourning, yet at the same time, they were grateful to the Great Spirit that they would finally be reunited with their chief and everyone else who had survived the massacre.
They would finally be as one heartbeat again, sharing the same hopes and dreams.
Jessie looked around and saw the relief in everyone’s eyes as they learned they were almost at the reservation.
She gazed at Jade. The older woman had stopped walking long ago. She had made most of the journey on a travois that Jessie had helped prepare for her with Lone Wing and Thunder Horse.
Jessie had learned that a travois consisted of a set of rawhide strips, securely lashed to poles that were harnessed to the sides of a horse.
The free ends dragged on the ground, providing a stretcher of sorts for the happy passenger whose feet ached too much to take another step!
That had been Jade. Her feet had been swollen and bleeding, like many of the other women, who were now on travois, too. When they arrived at their new home, they would have plenty of time to recuperate. Their feet would heal.
Yes, many women were on the travois now, weariness etched on their faces.
There had been five births on the trail. Fortunately, all the babies had survived, as had their mothers.
The remembrance of those babies’ first cries of life made Jessie place a hand on her own belly. Her pregnancy was very visible now. Thus far, the traumatic experiences she had gone through had not caused a miscarriage, nor had traveling on a horse for so many weeks.
But it was certain that Jessie would be one of the happiest and most relieved when she no longer had to be on a horse, hour after hour, day after day. She closed her eyes and envisioned herself sitting beside a lazy fire in her new home, with Thunder Horse sitting next to her. She would lean against him as they watched the fire together.
That was when their life together would truly begin. Up until now, they had had no time to enjoy each other.
At last, they would have the time to be married. They had not wanted to conduct the ceremony while on the trail. They both wanted it to be a special time . . . something they could remember, and look back upon, as the most precious day of their lives.
And they had wanted the ceremony to be shared by all of the Fox band, not just a few.
“Soon,” she whispered to herself, looking over at Thunder Horse.
Sadness swept through her as she gazed at him. Although he was muscled and strong, she could see that the long days on the trail, and the loss of his ahte and so many other loved ones, had taken their toll on him. She could see weariness in the slight slump of his shoulders and traces of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
That made her heart ache, for these things that now marred his handsomeness proved the weight of responsibility that he carried on his shoulders. He had an entire band who depended on him to make all the right decisions.
Thus far, he had proved to be the leader they needed, for only two graves had been left along the trail. Those who had passed to the other side were people who had been already ill before they began the long journey to the Dakotas.
No matter how much they were prayed over by Hawk Dreamer, the Fox band’s shaman, they had not been able to endure the gruelling trip. Weakened already by illness, they had succumbed to the cold, damp nights and the roughness of the journey on travois.
