Feather in the Wind by Madeline Baker Read Free Book Online Page A

for hours on end with his hands shackled high above his head, denied food or drink.
    He put his shovel aside and stroked the neck of the colonel’s big black horse. Mounted on such an animal, he could ride like the wind for home. No one would be able to catch him.
    He glanced at the shackles that hobbled his feet day and night. Save for the manacles, he would vault onto the animal’s back and make a run for it.
    And he would take the white woman with him.
    The thought made him smile.
    “Hey, redskin, get back to work!”
    Wiping the smile from his face, Tate Sapa took hold of the stallion’s lead rope and led the horse from the stall. Outside, he tethered the black to the hitch rack.
    He was about to go back into the barn when he caught a glimpse of Susannah. She was walking around the parade ground with several other white women, but he had eyes only for her. She moved with the grace of a young doe. He saw her smile, and then, like a gift from Wakán Tanka , the breeze brought him the soft sound of her laughter.
    “What are you doin’, starin’ at those women, buck?” The harsh voice of the duty sergeant grated on Tate Sapa’s ears even as the man’s crop fell across his back. “I told you to get to work!”
    Hands clenched, Tate Sapa went back into the barn, yearning for his freedom, for the chance to vent his anger on the white men who rode him so mercilessly, treating him as if he were some kind of inhuman creature without heart or mind or feelings.
    He stared at the pitchfork propped against one of the stalls. It would make a formidable weapon. But even as he considered it, he knew it would be suicide to strike out against his guards. They would shoot him down without question or qualm.
    And yet, maybe that would not be so bad. Surely he could kill or injure several of the wasichu before they killed him. He could die fighting, as a warrior should. Hokahey . Perhaps it was a good day to die…
    He shook the thought from his mind. Death would always be there, waiting. For now, he would bide his time. He might yet find a way to escape this place.
    * * * * *
    At dusk, Susannah stood at the window, listening to the company bugler blow retreat. Impossible as it seemed, she’d been at the fort a week now. She had made friends with the other women and actually enjoyed their company. They were a close-knit group, bound together by circumstances and proximity. It amazed Susannah that they managed to keep busy and seemed quite content to live in this dreary place.
    The bugle sounded again, drawing her attention back to the men. Attired in their dress uniforms, the entire garrison, save for those men standing guard, were assembled on the parade ground.
    She had learned much of army routine in the last few days. It seemed the bugle was constantly calling men to duty. She had never realized that the soldiers took turns cleaning the stables and working in the kitchen. They spent time on the rifle range, and time drilling on the parade ground. Something called guard mount took place every morning. The men detailed for duty were assembled in front of their company quarters, inspected by the first sergeant, then marched to the parade ground, in front of the guardhouse, where they were inspected by the sergeant major. When he was satisfied with the old and new guard formations, he reported to the officer of the day that the guard was formed. The officer of the day then inspected the guard, ordering them through the manual of arms. Passwords were given, and the new guard replaced the old for the next twenty-four hours.
    During this time, the post prisoners were paraded to the left of the old guard.
    She was shocked by the various punishments doled out to the men in the guardhouse. Men arrested for drunkenness were made to walk back and forth in front of the guardhouse while carrying heavy logs on their shoulders.
    Carter had told her he had once seen a man staked out “spread eagle”. It had been a cruel thing. The man had been