Soldier's Heart by Pamela Foster

Author:Pamela Foster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oghma Creative Media

Colonel Rust’s headquarters squats to my left, recognizable amongst a sea of similar tents by its larger size and by the St. Andrews Cross snapping in the wind over the center peak.

The soft close of the front door raised her head. Startled, palms instantly wet, her heart thumped fast and hard.

Feet padded across the cabin floor.

She pressed the journal closed, fumbled with the leather twist, gave up and slipped the book, untied, into the top drawer.

A rhythmic song, a low vibration, thrummed at her ears.

Relieved, she smiled and did her best to appear casual as she strolled into the main cabin.

At the door to her room, the powerful stink of bear grease was an assault and, hand to her nose, she stepped back a few feet.

Montega stood at the foot of her bed looking down. Boxed in with a rolled quilt and two soft pillows, William slept on his knees, his diapered bottom in the air. The baby’s head was turned toward Adeline, thumb firmly in place. His rapid sucking told her it would soon be time to warm goat’s milk.

“The child is well.” Montega turned, met her gaze.

Adeline dropped her hand from her nose and forced a smile. “He’s crawling now. Jeremiah says it’ll not be long before William will have no need of the pap, be chasing after the goat to get breakfast fresh from the tap.”

Her face heated in shame. Why had she found it necessary to remind Montega of Jeremiah’s presence in her life? To share this crude, teasing observation as if revealing an intimacy? It wasn’t as though she was afraid of the Indian. Not precisely afraid.

“I bring ammunition. A few rounds for the rifle and more for the Colt.” He continued to look into her eyes.

She was certain he knew of her fear, sensed her reaction to his smell, her uneasiness at the manner in which he stood—balanced lightly on the balls of his feet.

“The wolf and raven are very different creatures.” His words flat, lifeless, he did not shift his gaze from her face.

Jeremiah said that, if you ask an Osage if he thinks it’ll rain, he’ll begin his answer with the Indian equivalent of “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” Adeline smiled but did not share this insight with Montega.

“Yes, very different.” She smiled to let him know she was teasing. “The raven has feathers while the wolf has fur.”

He did not return her smile.

“These two animals have different powers.” He paused stone-faced until she nodded. “Both live in the same woods, but even their smell is different, one from the other.”

Adeline’s face burned with heat.

“Yet, in a hard winter, the wolf and the raven, they strike a bargain. When the wind turns against the hunter, the raven will lead the wolf to a deer hiding in the woods. In return, the wolf allows the bird to eat from its kill.”

“So, in this story, am I the raven or the wolf?”

The cabin was silent but for the crackling of logs in the stove and the soft suckling of the baby, his thumb firmly, wetly in place.

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