Page 43 of Shoshone Sun

Before she could scream, a cloth was shoved into her mouth, gagging her. She struggled against the hands that held her, but they were too strong. Panic surged through her as she realized who it was—Fred.

“Don’t fight me, Jane,” he hissed, his voice low and filled with malice as he tied her hands and feet. “You’ll come with me, and you’ll be mine again. You don’t have a choice. I won’t leave you here with some heathen savage!”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she tried to scream, but the gag muffled her cries. Fred dragged her from the bed, across the cabin floor, out the door, into the yard, and threw her in the waiting buckboard wagon.

Jane’s heart leapt with hope when she heard Peter’s voice cut through the night. “What’s going on?” he yelled, his voice sharp with alarm.

Fred didn’t hesitate. Swinging onto the wagon, he grabbed the reins of the horses, snapping them to life. The horses lurched forward, the chest of the closest one knocking Peter to the ground. Jane’s hope dissolved into despair.

The rest of the night was a blur of panic and fear. When Fred had tossed her like a bag of rubbish into the wagon, he’d knocked the breath out of her. She couldn’t move, her hands and feet bound tightly, the ropes digging painfully into the flesh of her wrists and ankles. Panic nested in her chest, the terror of being taken from her family, from everything she knew.

Her breath came in sharp, frantic gasps, but the gag in her mouth made it hard to breathe, the cloth stifling her cries. The night was quiet save for the pounding of hooves as Fred repeatedly snapped the reins, urging the horses faster.

No, Jane thought, her heart pounding in her chest.This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.It must be a nightmare!But the rough jerking of the wagon, the sound of the horses’ labored breathing and the pounding of their hooves made it clear that this was real. Fred was taking her. He was kidnapping her!

Her body rolled from one side of the box to the other as the wagon lurched forward, the rough wooden wheels clattering against the uneven ground. The path they were on was rocky, twisted with the uneven terrain of the wilderness, and each bump sent a jolt through her body. Her legs were throbbing, the ropes around her wrists and ankles stung like fire, and her arms pulsed in agony from being stretched behind her.

Still, she fought against the ropes, struggling with every ounce of strength she could summon. But the bindings were too tight and the more she moved, the more they dug into her skin. The gag made it hard for her to breathe as the darkness of the night wrapped around her like a suffocating cloak. The weight of the growing distance between her and her family was overwhelming.

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as she thought of Susan and Peter. And of little Petey who would wake to find her gone. Her heart twisted in agony. She had just found them again, just stepped back into their warmth and love, and now she was being ripped away. The desperation she felt was almost too much to bear.

The wagon bounced again, and Jane’s head slammed against the side of the box. Her vision blurred as pain shot through her skull. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog in her mind, but it was no use. The journey was taking its toll on her body, on her sanity.

As they rode over the rough path, her thoughts began to race. What did Fred expect of her? Why had he come all the way here, after all this time? She couldn’t make sense of it. He had been cruel to her once—had broken her heart and shattered her life. She had thought him gone from her world forever, but here he was, dragging her away from it.

She swallowed hard, tasting the bitter salt of tears at the back of her throat, but there was no time for grief, no time for self-pity. She had to think. She had to survive. She couldn’t let Fred break her again. Not now. Not after everything she had fought for.

The horses continued to gallop through the night, the landscape blurring in the dim light as they moved deeper into the wilderness. Jane’s body ached with the brutal jolts of the wagon, but her mind was now sharp, focused on a single thought. She had to get free. She had to make it back to her family, back to Flying Arrow.

She tugged at the ropes once more, biting down on the gag as the wagon rolled over another rocky patch of ground. The pain in her hands and arms was excruciating, but she didn’t give up. Not yet. She couldn’t.

Fred’s voice drifted back to her as he shouted at horses, urging them to go faster, and the sound deepened her despair. The road was endless, the path leading into the unknown, and Jane had no idea how long it would take before she could find a way out.

What if she couldn’t?

Chapter Twenty-Four: Kidnapped

- On the Trail to Fort Laramie, October 1867-

The wagon jostled relentlessly as it continued its journey. The sound of the horses’ hooves beating a steady rhythm against the dirt was the only thing that marked the passage of time. For Jane, it felt as though the world had collapsed into this single, unbearable moment.

She lay on her side, struggling to remain calm, even as the ropes dug deeper into her flesh. Her body throbbed, aching from the effort of trying to break free. The gag in her mouth was suffocating, her own breath feeling like an enemy as it trapped her in a haze of panic. But amidst the chaos, resolve took root in her mind. She would survive this!

The wagon creaked and swayed, its wheels groaning under the uneven terrain as Fred urged the horses onward. Every so often, Jane caught a glimpse of the landscape, the shadows of trees and the rough outline of mountains looming in the distance. She had no idea how far they had gone—but she knew one thing for sure: she couldn’t give up.

By the time the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Jane had lost all sense of time. Her body ached and her mind grew foggy with exhaustion and fear. It wasn’t until the sound of a new set of thundering hooves reached her ears that she allowed herself to hope.

It could be only one person—Flying Arrow!

After dealing with the threat of the Blackfoot, Flying Arrow returned to the village, and then headed to Peter’s cabin to intercept Jane. Only to learn she was gone. The words burned in his ears as they echoed in his mind.

“Fred took her,” Peter had said, his face pale and drawn. “Took her in the night. He seized her before we even knew it.”

The news hit Flying Arrow like a blow to the chest, rage surging through him before he even had the full story. His thoughts were consumed by the image of Jane—bound and helpless—and the fury that boiled within him intensified.

Without a moment’s pause, he rode away from Peter’s cabin, driven by the need to find her, to bring her back. The wind cut sharply against his face as he urged his horse forward, each pounding stride of the animal hopefully pushing him closer to Jane.

He followed the tracks of the wagon for hours, the signs of the trail evident even in moonlight. The soft imprint of the wheels and the fresh marks left by the horses guided him with an almost eerie precision.

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