Against the Current

The Storms Within

Katie:

Later that night, as Tonya and I were getting ready for bed, the rain came pouring down. I thought about the stranger as I counted between lightning flashes and thunder. Did he have proper shelter? Was he okay? Why did I care?

Lightning flashed, illuminating our bedroom. Thunder followed shortly after, rattling the entire house. Tonya yelped and huddled closer to me. She was eleven years old and still afraid of storms. So was I, but I kept it hidden better. It wasn't the thunder or the lightning, but the chances of a tornado developing.

"Hey, Katie?" Tonya whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever think about death?"

This question took aback me.

"Since when did you become morbid?"

She huddled under the sheets as lightning flashed outside our window. "I'm just curious."

"Well, I ain't," I whispered back. "Don't go worrying about that stuff. You're too young to think about death."

"A lot of kids died from the flu," she pointed out.

"I know that, but still..."

"Still, what?"

"I don't know. Just go to sleep, okay? There's nothing to worry about."

Sometime between the flashes of lightning and the boom of thunder, I had decided I'd pay back the stranger.

~oOo~

Colton Wolfe:

A loud bang and rattling of a canvas tent, startled him awake. His eyes were wide, his heart in his throat, and breathing was difficult. He frantically felt around in the dark for his Springfield as a battle raged on outside. It was only when he felt soft fur press against him did he realize he wasn't in a trench, but back in the States with his dog in a tent.

He sighed and relaxed against his canine companion. Charlie laid his head on Cole's lap and looked up at him with big round. Cole smiled at his friend while stroking the dog's pelt. At least he wasn't alone this time.

More thunder rumbled outside. He felt foolish that he was a grown man afraid of storms and yet here he was. That's how it was for the last several years. His eyes slid closed and he counted to ten until his heart rate fell back into a steady rhythm.

He stayed up the rest of the night as the storm raged on. There was no point in trying to sleep now. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blood, the dirt spraying up from the ground as he ran for his life.

A cold nose pressed his arm. Cole shook his head, and forced away the memory. It was pointless and stupid to keep remembering. He could hear his grandfather now: "Get over it, boy. You knew what you signed up for. Be grateful you didn't come home in a pine box."

Easy for you to say, Cole thought. You enjoyed killing Indians...

Cole's shoulders drooped. He wished he could say it aloud.

The dog crawled into Cole's lap and nuzzled his head against his stomach. He gave Charlie another pat on the head and began counting the time between the lightning and thunder.

By dawn, it was over, and the sky cleared. Everything around him was muddy. The creek flooded which meant his snares were underwater. So much for that. At least he had a bow.

He found his Palomino, Goldie, out in the fields munching on wet grass. He had hoped she would stay in the woods during the storm, but she had run off. At least she was safe now.

With the saddle thrown over his shoulder, he stepped out of the dark forest and into the sunny fields where Goldie was waiting for him by an oak tree. She lazily chewed on grass and slowly blinked at her owner as he approached her with Charlie in tow. She gave a snort and turned away from him.

"Ah, don't be like that," Cole said as he placed the saddle on her. "I tried to find you shelter, I really did."

After he saddled her, he rode into town with Charlie staying behind.

The next two days were uneventful. Each day he awoke, hunted or foraged for his next meal, explored new areas, and at night he'd sit by a campfire with his horse and dog.

One night as he lied on his back and looked to the stars glittering above him, he thought of Hokte and the promise he made. It sounded easy enough and at first, it was. He tracked down the Richmond family fairly quickly, but didn't make a move just yet. No, the time had to be right.

Then she happened upon his camp.

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the photo of a young Seminole woman holding a baby. It was the only picture Hokte could provide, but the moment she saw that nosy girl's face, he knew she was Hokte's granddaughter.

As he studied the photo, he thought about the girl and how he reacted when he caught her going through his stuff. He didn't mean to hurt her. It was out of habit he reacted the way he did. At the residential school, your stuff was always searched with no warning and if they found something they didn't approve of, you better brace yourself for the leather strap.

He needed to find a way to approach her without scaring her, or getting shot.

The next day, it was unusually hot, so Cole decided to cool off at the creek where he'd encountered the girl. By then, the water had receded.

Charlie ran ahead of him, sniffing everything from the rocks to the trees. As they got closer to the creek, the dog began to bark happily. Charlie raced ahead and flung himself into the water, sending a small wave toward his human. Cole held up an arm in an attempt to shield himself from the droplets.

He began to undress but stopped when he noticed a burlap sack hanging from the tree. Curious, but cautious, he approached it. Pinned to the sack was a note. He plucked it from the bag and opened it. He could tell by the neat handwriting that it was most likely a woman.

Dear stranger,

I didn't mean to go through your stuff. Well, I did mean to, but I was curious. To say sorry and I guess thank you, I brought you some food and other items you may need.

-Katie.

He finished the letter and folded it.

So, Hokte's bratty granddaughter had been back. He should have been surprised but he wasn't. From the little he'd seen of her, she was a spitfire. He'd never seen a girl go after two grown men before. He chortled at the thought.

Opening the sack, he found two apples, a peach, a jug of tea, and some beef jerky. He smiled at the items. How cute, he thought.

Over the next three days, he awoke before dawn to study the family's routine. It was during those three days he discovered the girl was always the first one up to milk their dairy cow.

He found it amusing that she would argue with her family. It surprised him no one tanned her hide, especially with her strong language. He'd never seen a girl like her talk the way she did and get away with it. On the third day, she was hammering a nail into the corral when she hit her thumb. She flailed her hand and cussed up a storm while her "pa" howled with laughter. Cole had to stifle a laugh or risk getting caught.

Another observation he'd made, was how they treated her. She wasn't abused nor neglected as he'd originally feared. Instead, she was treated as though she were their own child. She never looked miserable, and got along well with her family. However, just because they weren't mistreating her, it didn't mean they weren't bringing her harm. The Richmonds took a child away from her family, stripped her of her identity, and provided a false security for her to fall into. To Cole, that was just as bad as leaving bruises.

He needed to get her away from them. She need to know the truth.

Later that night, he silently crept through the woods, a skill taught to him by his Uncle Hawk. They didn't have a dog, which made this easier as he approached the property. He pinned the note on the barn door, hoping she'd find it first. He was taking a huge risk, but he had to try for Hokte.

Cole left just as quietly and quickly as he came. He went back to the darkness of the forest where he'd wait for her.