Chapter 2

“Straight Arrows, Pretty Face!” called the silver-haired storyteller when she heard her grandsons' voices on the other side of her lodge-cover. As they ducked inside, their perturbed faces announced that something had gone wrong.

“Where is Light Bird?” asked Two Doves. “She set out for our bundles before the sun arose from sleep.”

At a loss, Pretty Face looked to his older brother, but Straight Arrows' expression revealed he hadn't seen their sister either. “We've been with the elders since sunrise. Wild Dog and his cousins arrived last night.”

“Yes,” the silver head nodded. “He came to the meadow before the sun.”

“He warned Old Many Feathers that the Raven-Enemy, from across the grass lands, are heading toward us.” The earnest concern on Straight Arrows' handsome face reminded Two Doves of his father, Preying Eagle, and also of his grandfather, Running Deer.

Squatting down, Pretty Face gently probed her ankle. “What happened?” He looked very like Light Bird. Although neither possessed their mother's blue-green eyes, they had both inherited her people's fine-boned features, lending him his name. None of the young hunters or warriors, however, doubted his cunning or strength.

“It was still dark,” his grandmother told him. “I stumbled over a tree root in the meadow while gathering wood with your sister. Is Running Deer still in council?”

Straight Arrows nodded.

“Ask your mother to come here, and tell Small Deer to look for Light Bird. It is not like her to dawdle. I grow hungry and she knows I cannot keep warm without wood.”

Shortly after they left her dwelling, Brought-Us-the-Book ducked inside and offered her mother-in-law a bowl of hot porridge. “This will keep you warm until Light Bird returns with more wood for us. Do your thoughts carry you far away?”

Two Doves' silver braids bobbed as she looked up into affectionate blue-green eyes. “I was remembering you, so thin and pale, when you first wintered among our people. How long has it been—twenty-two summers?”

“In two moons I will reach thirty-nine summers altogether,” Brought-Us-the-Book calculated, “so yes, I have been with you nearly twenty-two.”

“They have brought you good health and rounded you nicely. I was thinking about Light Bird also. It seems a short time since you bore her, but she will soon want to marry and bear little potbellies of her own. I hate the thought of parting with her.”

“She is not likely to go far.”

“Yes, but she will belong to her husband's family and do her chores with his women-folk.”

“She will still belong to our guild and will likely spend many afternoons weaving with us in Quiet Woman's dwelling.”

Quitting her melancholy trail of thought, Two Doves nodded toward the cradleboard her daughter-in-law wore and smiled. “How's our little potbelly?”

“Growing heavier by the day!” Turning around, she presented the babe nestled snuggly on her back. Against his coal-black hair, Brought-Us-the-Book's thick braids shone deep mahogany. “If he doesn't quit eating so greedily, my back will bend. Do you remember when I wanted a full quiver of potbellies?” she chuckled. “Half -a-quiver is plenty!”

As Two Doves gently stroked his soft cheek, he offered her an endearing, toothless grin. “This one will be a great warrior. He has the look of my brother and of our father before him.”

Turning again, Brought-Us-the-Book's eyes fell to Two Doves' swollen ankle. “Does it hurt to walk?”

The silver head nodded.

“It is not like Light Bird to leave you so thoughtlessly. I wonder where she has gone.”

“Probably met up with a cousin,” Two Doves shrugged. “Talks-to-Birds and Smiling Girl ran past earlier, chattering away about Swallow Woman's handsome pup.”

“Wild Dog?”

“Yes, and I do not like him. He is far too bold. This morning he made straight for your daughter; and when she refused him notice, he gouged her—hard! He was too dull to see, but she pressed her lips together in pain.”

Brought-Us-the-Book looked up sharply. “I will speak to Preying Eagle about him. It is odd that he took time to pester her while troubled by this threat. He asked your brother to call a council.”

“Yes, your sons told me.”

“He says the Raven-Enemy, who roost high in the mountains toward the sleeping sun, are angry because some of the Allies have encroached upon their land.”

“We encroach on no one's land—but the white settlers…I am afraid what Running Deer has always feared for you comes. I hope Spotted-Long-Knife can work out an agreement with your white fathers.”

“I hope so, too,” Brought-Us-the-Book nodded sadly. “It has been long since I have lived with them, but there were many fine and godly men among them at that time—and as many scoundrels as there are among our people. Elk-Dog confirmed much of what Wild Dog said. He told Preying Eagle the Raven-Enemy are like a pack of wolves attacking each of their neighbors.”

“The Lord has delivered us from the mouth of the lion; he can deliver us from a wolf-pack also. ”

Brought-Us-the-Book smiled, admiring Two Doves' faith, as she had so often over the past twenty-two years. “I remember when Little Turtle first joined the warriors—against the Horned People. It was my first battle also. Only with Cuts-His-Face have I been so scared.”

“What a celebration we enjoyed!”

“Pretty Face wants to go, but he is so young.”

Shaking her silver head slowly, Two Doves replied, “Little Turtle possessed fewer summers than Pretty Face does now, but you were also very young. Age has given you a different vantage point. The Creator confused our enemy then and He will confuse them again. ‘Do not fret,' my daughter. ‘It tends only to evil.'”

Shouts outside disrupted their conversation and Straight Arrows abruptly flung back the flap. “An enemy has stolen her!”

Too stunned to reply for a moment, his mother and grandmother sat blankly before peppering him with many questions.

“Light Bird?”

“How?”

“We found her bundle, Grandmother, and yours also, half scattered under the tree. He tied two arrows to it, joined together—his own and Wild Dog's, dyed brown with dry blood.”

“No,” moaned Brought-Us-the-Book, covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face. “The Creator would not allow it! My only daughter! It cannot be!”

Two Doves pulled her into her arms. “What people?”

“The one he warned the council about. The Raven-Enemy.”

“So! He had reason to suspect something. What do Running Deer and Old Many Feathers say?”

“Grandfather thinks Wild Dog killed the man's woman or sister and your brother agrees. Father and our uncles have already mounted and Grandfather and I follow. Pretty Face is getting the horses. He also comes with us.”

“Pray it was a sister. If so, you may be able to get her back. What of Wild Dog?”

“We have driven him from the village. Father is black with rage.”

“And his cousins?”

“They fled also.”

“Go and God go with you.”

His mother only nodded, too upset to speak, as they heard hard-driven horses pound the turf outside. A single set pulled up close by.

“Brought-Us-the-Book! Two Doves!” Preying Eagle called tersely.

Straight Arrows helped his grandmother hobble out as his mother fought to compose herself. She knew her husband must keep his head and would not add to his struggle.

“Go!” he ordered his eldest sons. “Your brother is bringing your mounts. We follow the trail from the meadow.”

Leaning down, he pulled Brought-Us-the-Book's ear close to his lips and whispered a prayer to the Almighty. “If she can be found,” he promised, “I will bring her back unharmed.”

“Straight Arrows told us of one warrior,” his mother told him. “Are there many?”

“We will know soon,” he answered, wheeling as his three brothers joined him.

Kicking their heels into their horses' bellies, Preying Eagle and his brothers tore over the meadow and up the hillock, ripping Pacing Wolf's offering from the old crabapple and hurling it to the ground.

Light Bird struggled to arch her ribs off the horse's sharp withers; but, encumbered by her heavy buffalo robe, she soon fell exhausted. Every successive hoof beat pummeled her courage until she couldn't pry loose the alarm that gripped her heart: they had traveled much too far and fast for a prank. Wild Dog's disrespectful behavior had been nudging the back of her mind; but though he had grown impatient, she did not think him reckless or wicked. Still, she could think of no other who might steal her.

How she had attracted him, she didn't know. Two Doves often said she looked like her mother; but even with a mirror's aid, she could not see the resemblance. Almost three summers past, during the Assembling of Allies, her heart missed a beat as she happened to look up. Following her steps closely was a fine young warrior, handsome and strong, whose lance already boasted enemy tokens. When she next found courage to glance up, she had lost him in the crowd.

As she wended through the other dancers who, like her, had barely entered womanhood, he gaped with open admiration; but the glares of her older rivals were shriveling. They looked her up and down as if unable to see a reason he had honored her with his attention, and nodded in her direction as they whispered among themselves. By the time she knelt down beside her mother, she lacked the temerity to look up again. A few days later, she learned that he had asked his uncle to inquire after her; but Preying Eagle had already made it generally known that he considered her too young to court. Light Bird felt relieved as much as disappointed, but when she saw him ride into their village with his cousins a few moons later, she could not entirely still her excitement.

Assuming they came to hear God's Word, Straight Arrows encouraged them to visit more often; while Pretty Face, in awe of Wild Dog's achievements, frequently invited them to meals in their mother's dwelling. Light Bird found these occasions torturous. Like a hunter tracking a lone buffalo on the open prairie, Wild Dog's eyes never left her; and afterward her little brother, Small Deer, teased her mercilessly.

Before the snows had last begun, Wild Dog's uncle arrived to renew his nephew's suit: “Light Bird will soon possess sixteen summers—many girls her age are betrothed. Wild Dog is twenty-one and has amply proven he can provide for her. His worth as a protector is beyond doubt. Our two bands have long exchanged daughters to keep our alliance strong—Wild Dog's own mother was from this village. He has demonstrated great patience—it is time for him to gain his reward.”

Preying Eagle acknowledged his uncle's statements, but answered with his usual practicality: “Can a husband and wife walk closely while they travel separate paths? Light Bird has chosen the Creator's way; whose way has Wild Dog chosen, and whose trail would their children follow? ‘A house divided against itself cannot stand.'”

The clatter of hooves pulled her from her memories and offered her hope: they were traveling over rock. If Wild Dog were her captor, he might be ascending to his village. She had never visited it, but all knew his band camped in the high and rocky hills. He would surely take her to Swallow Woman, his mother, with whom she could reason. Light Bird, in turn, would promise to assure her father that Wild Dog had harmed nothing deeper than her dignity, and no one need suffer severe consequences. Rather than climb, however, she felt the horse lower his neck and, through the robe's open end, caught a glimpse of swiftly rushing water. Severely disappointed, she pleaded with him to turn around before the damage was irreparable; but they plunged downward.

As Pacing Wolf urged his sorrel down the slope, he was glad the Muddy River was not yet flooding. His captive's voice was pleasant, even while raised, like a meadowlark in the grassland. Perhaps they called her Light Bird for the sweetness of her song. I will call her Small Doe. Resolving to treat her gently, he congratulated himself for the ease with which his plans had fallen into place. Not only had he thwarted the cravings of his enemy but gained them in his stead.

He imagined Wild Dog, alarmed and angry, when he learned a wolf had carried his prize away. His clansmen would rush him in violent fury or condemn his soul to wander by strangling the life from his arrogant face. This would save me much trouble, he mused, but he wanted a more fitting revenge. Before my axe meets his chest, I will prance the doe, round with my wolf cubs, before his hungering eyes. I will teach them to hate and devour his people!

Suddenly his mouth drooped downward; and victory, sweet on his tongue just moments before, felt like grit between his teeth. They are her people also. When she asks her spirit-guide to protect our sons, she will invite the death of her father and brothers, her uncles and cousins—I should have stolen the haughty woman. I could use her to ease my grief without a trickle of remorse.

He spat in disgust, recalling his dead woman's ravaged flesh. Her kinsman is like his namesake, tearing what he pleases, and t he little doe will think me no better. H er laughter will melt like a snow come too early and her eyes...

As the water deepened, Pacing Wolf lifted the pelt, cradling her head in his hand. I should take her life instead—quickly—before terror enters her heart. Drowning, however, was too cruel a death; he did not wish her to suffer.

Light Bird welcomed the relief. Her head throbbed from hanging lower than her torso, and though it diminished her hope of quick release, the horse's smooth, buoyant motion brought respite to her ribs. The river surged over her calves, chilly and strong, and jostled the horse so hard she feared her captor might loose his hold. They swam farther and farther from the bank, straining against the current. Slowly, she comprehended this could be only one river: the great one that marked the boundary of her people's hunting lands—one she was never likely to see unless taken by an enemy.

Tingles of fear crept up her spine until her back felt colder than her ankles. Warriors considered women their rightful spoils of war or they stole them to replace their dead, but she had never expected to be either. Since embracing Jesus, her band had neither raided nor attacked other villages and the Lord had given them peace on every side. As her mind roiled with possible enemies, most of whom she had never seen, her breath grew short. The Puckered Toes live toward the cold wind, but the Horned Enemy…

Shivering, she pushed the last from her mind. It was too horrible to consider. To quell her distress, she thought of times the Almighty rescued His people—particularly those who were too weak to defend themselves. He parted the Red Sea , prompted Sennacherib to abandon his siege of Jerusalem , told an angel to release Peter from prison , and saved the Jews from extermination through Queen Esther. Rather than bolster her confidence, however, Esther's story undermined it: a stranger had taken her also.

O Lord, I am powerless against an enemy! Save me as you did my mother.

After a time, the horse lunged upward onto firm ground, and her captor lowered the end of the robe that held her head. Instead of emerging on the opposite bank, however, he kept within the river. With a sinking heart, she recognized the cleverness of his strategy; it was what her father or uncles would do. By walking in the water, he made his tracks impossible to follow. Even if the mud were deep enough to hold impressions, by the time her men-folk reached this spot the current would have smoothed them away.

Feeling sick, she thought of Quiet Woman, the wife of Old Many Feathers, grandmother's esteemed brother. She was so loved by their people that few remembered she was not born an Ally. On the eve of an attack last spring, her mother had sent her to this aunt's dwelling.

“With every passing summer, you look more like Brought-Us-the-Book,” Quiet Woman told her. “When she was a little older than you are now, your father sent her to me. I told her then what I tell you tonight: Your wits must guide you tomorrow. Women have few choices in life and a just warrior remembers this. If the Puckered Toes enter the village, they will take anything of value they can easily carry—blankets, clothing, and jewelry. They will replace their dead with our children. They may leave the old and lame or kill them where they find them, but they will take our pleasing women for wives or slaves.

“Choose your hiding place well, little bird; but if an enemy finds you, welcome him. He will take you anyway. A warrior's vanity is a formidable weapon—use it to your advantage. Smile. He will think you clever to recognize his worth, but may become spiteful if insulted. You also carry stolen blood. Two Doves' grandmother was captured from a fierce people living in the lands your mother traveled with her white father. Each person in this village possesses an aunt, a grandmother, or a sister-in-law from another tribe, and the same is true in theirs. It is the way of war.”

Reading the revulsion in Light Bird's eyes, Quiet Woman had reassured her, “The Creator knows the lot of women and holds your future in His hands. Had He not brought me to this people, I would still be enslaved to sin. Trust Him.”

She had trusted Him and He faithfully delivered her, giving their band a victory that they celebrated to this day. Not only had He given the Puckered Toes into her men-folks' hands, but much booty, enriching them all. The occasion had been particularly joyous for her family: Straight Arrows had won weapons and horses, demonstrating his prowess in battle and clearing the way for him to marry Corn-Tassels when she returned.

“The Lord is faithful in all His ways,” she reminded herself. He delivered me then and will this night, also.

“I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I have been saved from my enemies.”

Psalm 18:3

Author Bio

Sydney Tooman Betts currently resides in Florida with her protagonist-inspiring husband and two teen-aged children.   When not engaged in writing, she spends most of her time home schooling, mentoring, leading the women's Bible study at her local church, or painting.

While single, Ms. Betts (B.S. Bible/Missiology, M.Ed) was involved in a variety of cross-cultural adventures in North and Central America.   After marrying, she and her husband lived in Europe and the Middle East where he served in various mission-support capacities.   Her teaching experiences span preschool to guest lecturing at the graduate level and she has been privileged to serve as Sunday School Superintendent, Children's Church Director, or Women's Ministries facilitator in several evangelical denominations.  

Before her first novel, A River too Deep, she had ghostwritten several stories included in an adult literacy program.  

Contact Sydney at: www.LightBirdsSong.com  

To Purchase “A River Too Deep” and “Light Bird's Song”: www.e316.com , www.Amazon.com , www.authorhouse.com