The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

42: Surrender

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Still Water Woman by Laura Hollingsworth. All graphics by me.

Book 1: The Green, Book 2: Lynch's Boys, Book 3: The Road Home, and the Riders & Kickers Anthology are available on Amazon under the name Regina Shelley. So if you hate waiting for chapter posts and/or want a more polished read, the finished product is available now.

For once, she knew exactly where and when she was when she opened her eyes. Right before she fell asleep last night, Still Water Woman had suffered one last twinge of fear: that she would awake in the morning thinking she lay with her head on They Fear Him's warm chest, his arm curled protectively around her. And when her dreams cleared like mist in the sun, she would realize what world she was in, and that it would crush her.

It had happened before. There had been many a morning that she'd awoken after forgetting, after thinking that she'd dreamed it all, that her beloved was still alive. That everything was alright.

And then she had opened her eyes to cruel remembering and a cold bed, to hair shorn in grief sticking to her face, and silently wept in her sleeping furs so that Runs Laughing would not see.

She'd fallen asleep in Jesse's arms and stayed the night there against her better judgment. But before she even opened her eyes, she knew. She hadn't forgotten whose heart pulsed against her cheek, whose breathing had rocked her gently to sleep. She opened her eyes and sat up, careful not to wake him.

The early morning sun glowed softly through the smoke hole, and she pulled a blanket over his chest so her absence would not chill him. The silky, golden stubble dusting his jaw made him look older, less boyish. His face, most likely previously protected by a white man's hat, was growing dark and burnished. He seemed to have aged years in the short time he'd been with them. Still, sleep gave him a soft beauty that made her heart jump in her breast. How is he so different from what I have been told about the white men? She swept a lock of hair from his sleeping face, disentangling it from his eyelashes. So different from those brutal white men who would have taken me, and maybe my little sister, and used us. Not once has he given me cause to be afraid of him. Not once has he tried to take what is not his to take. Not even last night, when we shared sleeping furs and I was weak and despairing and alone.

She heard footfalls outside her lodge and reluctantly pulled herself away from his warmth and the sweet feel of his body snuggled against hers. She scrubbed her face with her sleeve and stood up, striding quickly to flip open the door flap. "Two Elk?"

Eagle Bone stood in her doorway, his eyes blackened with bruises and his nose swollen and darkened. Her heart sank and fear clutched at her insides. He will come inside and the man he sees as an enemy  will be lying in my sleeping furs and my brother will be angry. And he will want to fight again.

She took in a deep breath, rooted to the spot. This is my lodge. She steeled herself, focusing her gaze past her brother's left shoulder, at a neighbor's cookfire. Inside my lodge, I say what happens. "A warrior stands at the door to my lodge," she murmured, gazing at the smoke curling in the morning mist. "And this woman would never tell a warrior not to fight under the sky. Inside my lodge is a place of healing and peace. Perhaps this warrior comes seeking these things."

"This warrior is grateful that his sisters are unharmed." Eagle Bone glanced past her at the painted designs adorning the doorway of the lodge. His eyes were weary and bloodshot in his bruised eye sockets, and his voice was thick and stuffy. "He has heard the words of Two Elk and knows the story about the white men by the river. He knows Runs Laughing's captive is no longer a captive."

Her surprise almost compelled her to look at him. She caught herself, and felt something at her side. Runs Laughing was pushing past her in the doorway, her face angry.

"Eagle Bone should take his warclubs and his knives and go away," she said.

Eagle Bone's shoulders deflated. "I am not bringing a warclub to the lodge of my sisters," he said defensively.

"Runs Laughing, our brother is not here to fight." Still Water Woman almost smiled. She was so relieved that Eagle Bone was done with his anger, and that no cross words would pass between them, that she had to make a conscious effort to keep amusement off her face. "He will eat with us."

"Why does my brother's nose look like a big red potato?"

Still Water Woman pressed her lips together, turning her face away from Eagle Bone. His nose does look like a potato. It is a good thing he cannot see it...

She stopped. She could hear voices, startled and excited, and she glanced around, suddenly frightened. A white man she had never seen before was walking into the village. He looked to be about thirty winters, with a long, brown coat, a battered leather hat, and tawny, earth-colored hair. His hands were empty, held up in a gesture of surrender with a dirty white rag tucked between two of his fingers.

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