Wind of Fate

Prologue

Wyoming  1862

Relentlessly, the wagon train pushed on mile after mile through the endless expanse of the prairie. With the hopes of many travelers, for the fulfillment of their dreams of a better life, which until then had been marked by poverty and despair. 

In the year 1862, a mixed group of people  from all social classes headed west. Aristocrats and businessmen side by side with people whom they would have allowed near them only as serfs and servants. But here, in the new world, everything was different. 

Here, it was not a person's origin that counted, but who he was himself. People had to support and help each other and everyone had to contribute.  That was the only way they could make it to the end, to Oregon. This trail was hard and relentless and would claim its victims,  if they did not stick together. They had seen plenty of evidence of this along the way. Skeletons of dead cattle, overturned covered

wagons that were slowly rotting or even crosses, which stood at the side of the road. Each of them knew the risk and yet it had not deterred this group, with their belongings, cattle and horses, to face the challenge.

Thirty covered wagons rolled in the already warm spring sun, on a predetermined path, across the prairie. They had been on the road for weeks and were now on their way to Fort Laramie, where they wanted to replenish their provisions. It was the last opportunity before they came across the Rocky Mountains into Oregon. Robert was also on this trek with his family. But unlike all the other travelers among them, he was not heading toward an uncertain future, but knew what awaited him at his destination. He made this trek already for the second time and had known exactly what hardships he would put his little family through.

Twenty years ago, at the age of ten, he was with his parents in just such a trek to Wyoming. At that time, it had all been exciting and  thrilling for him. He had previously read books about cowboys and Indians in his home country of Scotland and was eager to see some for himself. His parents, both members of the Scottish aristocracy, had made their way to Oregon with their fortune, where they had dreamed of building a large horse breeding operation.

They hadn't made it all the way to Oregon. They had stayed near Fort Laramie because they had found the land there which had been ideally suited for their project. Besides, they had speculated that the Army would always need new horses. The plan of his parents had been unusual but it had worked out. Eleven years later, they were the proud owners of the finest and largest horse breeding farm in Wyoming.

They had built a large farm from nothing, and it had grown over the years. In the meantime, several other families worked and lived on the ranch. Robert was looking forward to seeing what had changed in his

absence. Eight years he had been away from home, but now it was time to pay a visit and introduce his wife and young son. He had sent a letter with a family photo of them ahead of their visit and fervently hoped that it had reached its recipient.

What had been exciting twenty years ago, was beginning to grate on his nerves. For weeks they were on the road and every day it was the same scenery. In the morning he lined up with his wagon and saw nothing but the covered wagon in front of him all day long. They tried to keep the connection, until in the evening, when they put the wagons in a circle and went to rest. Comfort did not exist. The wagons were simple and protected only provisionally against the forces of nature. Dust, heat, rain and wind tore at the forces. There was still no other way to cover the long distance. A railroad line in this direction did not yet exist and carriages did not drive yet either, since there was a lack of intermediate stations. How much easier it was to travel in Europe. This boundless expanse could almost drive you out of your mind.

He admired the people here, who, full of anticipation and zest for action, set off again every morning into the unknown. He would never have chosen this step. In the meantime, he felt at home in Scotland. In the last eight years, he found his fulfillment there and so this visit to his parents would also be a farewell because he had no intention of going down this road a third time. In the meantime, it had become noon and his wife sat with her son next to him on the coach box.

Moira, as his wife was called, was a gift from God. He had met her seven years ago at a ball.

With her elegant appearance and the radiant smile with which she had been introduced to him, she had

immediately captivated him. Her lovely nature and the beauty with which she had been presented, had quickly convinced him that she was the woman of his life. Now they had been married for almost seven

years and she had always been by his side until now. About five years ago, she had given birth to his pride and his son. Somewhat sleepy, he sat cuddled up next to him on his mother's arm.

Dad will it be a very long time before we see Granny? And can I ride a pony there, too? Please yes?

Robert had to grin. His son already seemed to be developing into a real MacIntyre. In this family, lay the sense for the most beautiful animals in the world. For horses. His father had an extraordinary feeling for these creatures and he was also very good with them.  Apparently, this gift had been inherited just like the bright blue eyes.

"In two days we should have reached Fort Laramie and then it's another two days to your grandparents.

Grandfather will take you for a ride and grandmother will bake  her delicious cookies for you. It's going to be a good time, son."

Did you hear that, Mom. I get to ride with Grandpa.

The little boy had become quite excited and beamed at his mother.

Yes, I'm excited too. Your dad has always  told us so much about the ranch, that I can hardly wait to go.

Lovingly, she wrapped her arms around her little boy and had to realize once again that his radiant smile warmed her heart. At five years old, the little fellow was already very headstrong. He developed a strong will and could charm her with his smile. Just like his father, she thought silently and looked over at him. Robert had immediately caught her eye, when they had met for the first time. He had looked so

breathtakingly handsome in his black suit. With his tall, slim figure, he had towered over many other men. His black hair, which shone like velvet in the sun, had been a stark contrast to the bright blue eyes that smiled warmly at her. Even now she noticed tingling through her body when he caught her gaze and smiled at her. She loved this man like the first day and this love for him together with curiosity had made her expose herself to these hardships. But she was also feverishly awaiting the end of the journey.

Indians!

Suddenly things got restless and panic broke out. Again and again the trek leader shouted the word as he dashed past all the wagons at a sharp gallop. The front wagons now drove faster and the leader came back at a wild gallop and ordered them to build a wagon fort.

Oh my God, Robert! Indians! What are we going to do?

Both of you get in the back and lie flat on the ground. Get  my cartridges out of the box , and then take cover.

Moira quickly climbed inside the wagon with her son. Through the rear opening she could see that all the others behind her were trying to keep up with their speed. She pushed her son to the floor and gave him a sign to stay there. Quickly she looked for the box with the cartridges and handed them to her husband. Then she lay down close to her son on the floor. The speed of the galloping horses shook the wagon hard. From outside she could hear the war cries of the approaching Indians. Fear rose up in her. Quite unconsciously she pulled her son closer. She heard the trek leader yelling commands again and immediately noticed how the wagon was going in circles. All the wagons managed just in time to form a circle, which they kept so tight that no one could get through. Then the pandemonium broke out.  A huge horde of Sioux Indians attacked the wagon train. With a great roar they galloped around the wagons.

Quickly, the people of the trek made their way to safety. Children and women were sent into the wagons, while the men, armed, lay down under the wagons and waited for the command to attack. This was not long in coming. When  the first arrow hit one of the wagons, the leader gave the order to fire.

The first volley of rifle fire was immediately followed by a  rain of arrows from the Indians. After the first losses, the Indians changed their tactics and started shooting incendiary arrows at the wagons, which immediately caught fire. Women and children inside forced their way outside to safety from the flames, where they were met by the arrows of the Indians. The horrified men shot what their rifles could

give. The midday sun shone down on a scene of horror. Shots and screams of death would not end.

Moira rummaged out of a pocket a small bag and gave it to her little boy. In the sack was a small amulet, which she had received from Robert. This amulet contained the pictures of her and Robert. Furthermore there was a photograph, which showed them all three together and the little teddy bear that Robert had received from his mother. She hung the bag around her son's neck.

Take good care of it. If anything happens to us, go to grandmother, do you hear? I pray  to God that we will survive this.

Moira tried to suppress the tears that were welling up inside her. Her son needed her strength.  Frightened, he crawled closer to his mother.

She was still on the floor in her wagon and could hear from outside the screams of the people who had been hit. Suddenly, her wagon began to burn as well. If they did not want to burn alive, she had to get out of it. Quickly but carefully they both crawled to the exit. She shouted for Robert, who immediately came out of hiding and pulled his son down to him. He gave him the hint to lie  flat on his stomach under the car. Just as Robert was about to help his wife, an arrow flew in his direction and he was just able to take cover before it bored into the wood in front of him.

Immediately he put on his rifle and aimed at the next Indian who galloped past him. He pulled the trigger and saw the Sioux fly off his horse. That second was enough for him to lift his wife off the wagon as well. But just as she wanted to crawl under the wagon, she was hit by an arrow right into her heart. She collapsed before the eyes of her son.

No! cried Robert in horror. In his pain, he no longer thought of his son and took the rifle, firing without taking cover himself. He took down three Indians before he himself was killed by another arrow in the back. Little MacIntyre sat shivering under the wagon of his dead parents. He buried his face between his knees and closed his ears with his hands. He only vaguely heard the last death throes of the other passengers. The Indians' cry of victory drowned out everything else. All at once it was silent.

No more shots were fired, no more screaming could be heard. Only a small whimper came from somewhere. Should he dare to come out from under the wagon, or should he rather stay there. He was as quiet as a mouse and did not even dare to take a breath. How long he had sat still he did not know.

Just as he was about to breathe a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him out from under the car. Horrified he cried out and looked into the war-painted  face of the Sioux  before he felt the cold blade of his knife against his neck.

Chapter 1

Wyoming 1877

Still lay the silence of the night over the paerie, but on the horizon one could already see the first signs of the new day. Slowly the darkness gave way to the deep orange of the rising sun. The night had been starry but the small glittering dots in the sky were fading fast. The harsh winter was over, but there was still an icy wind that swept across the endless expanse. The rising sun would soon bring the first warm rays that would make the prairie blossom and change into a green landscape dotted with wildflowers.

With eyes open, you could see the harbingers of spring everywhere. Small tender buds on the trees, a first tentative green on the earth and also the animal world got up from the winter sleep. The air smelled of several well stoked campfires. Around them stood the tents of the Cheyenne. Except for a few warriors who sat wrapped in blankets around the fire and kept watch, it was still quiet in the camp. Horses grazed quietly nearby.

It would not be long before it would be daylight and life would awaken in the tents. The two men, who were watching the actions in the village from a hill, sat silently on their horses. Both wore long brown suede pants with fringes on the outer seams. Matching long-sleeved suede shirt embroidered with colorful beads. Their feet were in buffalo skin lined moccasins. To protect themselves from the cold, they had blankets embroidered with rich Indian patterns, around their shoulders. The long black hair was braided into two pigtails each, held together by a small leather band. Around the forehead they wore a simple band of snakeskin, in which an eagle feather was stuck at the back of the head. Perfectly calm, man and animal stood on the hill and only the hot breath from the nostrils of the horses, which was visible in the cold air, betrayed that these were living creatures and not statues.

My brother knows he doesn't have to go.

Without taking his eyes off the village, he had addressed his friend. The other man remained silent long before he finally answered:

I know, but it is better this way.

"My brother has been preoccupied with many new thoughts, since the great chief has gone to the eternal

hunting grounds."

Mantotohpa will fill the void well and lead the Cheyenne warriors wisely.

Then why does my brother want to go away? What will Hon Avonaco say to this?

She has known since yesterday and understands.

Honiahake is sad to lose his friend. He has been like a brother to him.

I will miss Honiahake too, but I have a mission to accomplish.

Let me go with you.

No, I have to do this alone and the tribe needs you.

Will you come back one day?

I don't know yet.

Your place is here, and whatever the outcome of your search, you will be welcome.

I know. It will be time. May Manitou protect you, Honiahake!

May Manitou protect and help you with what you have to do.

They both raised their right arms and made a sign of farewell. Then he took one last look at his village,

before he steered his horse into the adjacent forest and was swallowed up by the darkness.

Only Honiahake remained, sadly steering his horse down the hill back to the village.

Chapter 2

The bright bell of the little schoolhouse rang out for the conclusion of Sunday worship. Reverend Charles Duncan bid farewell to each of his small congregation with a handshake.

Every other Sunday he held his church devotions at the Hunts' cattle ranch. He had known William Hunt since the day he came to the ranch. With a lot of courage and confidence, and a handful of cattle he had come west and  had bought land near Fort Laramie.

William Hunt had intended to build up a large ranch to supply the area with cattle and meat. At that time, the fort had been only a small outpost with a few soldiers. It was the last station, occupied by whites, where man and beast found a safe rest before making the arduous journey westward across the Rocky Mountains.

Since then Fort Laramie had  developed into a large military base and housed several cavalry garrisons.  In the meantime, a small town with stores, saloons and even a small hotel had formed in the immediate vicinity of the fort. Charles‘ pride and joy was his own little church, which was located on the outskirts of the village. From Monday to Friday he gave the children school lessons there and every second Sunday the bell rang for devotions. The other two sundays of the month he rode to the Hunt Ranch, which was a good day's ride from the fort away. William Hunt and his wife Gloria had been regular visitors to his little house of worship until they had built a small chapel on their own land and asked him to hold his devotions there as well. 

By now the ranch was in its second generation, because James, the forty-five-year-old son of William and his wife was now the boss. His father had retired after the death of  his beloved wife three years ago and had left the business in the hands of his son. In the past, both had made the ranch the largest in the area and had become respected citizens of Laramie. If James had inherited his father's skills and could be a tough guy about his business, he became quite tame  when his pretty daughter Isabella, was near him. She was his pride and joy. Charles had baptized Isabella eighteen years ago and a year later had to provide assistance to the family when James' wife and Isabella's mother died of pneumonia.

It had been a difficult time then, but Isabella had grown into a young, smart and confident woman thanks to her grandmother Gloria and the two men.  After the death of her grandmother three years ago, she was the first woman in the house and made sure that everything worked in the household. She was a hardworking girl and mastered despite her youth the tasks with bravura.

The only place where she got help, from the wife of the first foreman, was the kitchen. The ranch employed about twenty men, almost all of whom wanted to be fed.

Reverend Duncan, don't you want to  come over to the house before you start on the long journey home? Louisa baked some fresh apple pie early this morning. and I know you like it so much.

The Reverend was brought back to the present by Isabella's question.

That's sweet, my child. Perhaps a slice. I really can't resist freshly baked apple pie. Your grandmother always knew that.

Laughing, she hooked the arm of the Reverend

Well, then, why don't you come with me?

They both set off on the short walk from the chapel to the main house. This consisted of a two-story log house with a wide porch around it. Two steps led up to the front door. On the porch stood two wooden rocking chairs, in which her grandfather had liked to sit with her Grandmother. Isabella often sat on evenings with her grandfather and listened to his stories from back then. In front of the house, several wooden stakes had been  driven into the ground, to which one could tie horses or carriages. Today only the horse of the reverend stood  there and waited patiently for his master.

How's the development of your school coming along? Are you making any progress?

Yes. Right now I have three students aged five and seven, and two nine-year-olds whom I teach three days a week here in the chapel. I enjoy it very much and wish I had more students. But at the moment there are no other children on the ranch, except for two little babies. And until the two babies are ready for school, the first students will already be done with it.

I think it's remarkable that you started the school on your own initiative. People entrust you with their children. That is not easy, especially when you're as young as you are.

Everyone should have the opportunity to be able to read, do math and write and I have been very fortunate that my grandmother was of the same opinion and taught me all this and now I just want to pass on my knowledge. Unfortunately, I only have time to teach three days a week. The housework and the ranch's bookkeeping leave me little time for that.

Your father should be very proud of you, Isabella. He couldn't have had a better child.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking,  if it wouldn't have been better,  if he'd had a son instead of a daughter. He could be more of a help to him than I can be. He works hard and could use help. I will never be able to give him a hand as a son could have done.

Isabella, you mustn't think like that. You were and are your father's sunshine. If God had not called your mother to him so early, you would probably have a whole crowd of brothers and sisters around you, but God did not want it that way.

What are you two dawdling about, Charles get inside, the apple pie is waiting.

Isabella and the Reverend had just reached the first step to the porch, when the door opened from inside. Isabellas grandfather appeared in the doorway. Laughing, they both hurried, and while Isabella scurried past her grandfather, Charles stopped in front of William.

William, I was just in company and wanted to enjoy it a little longer.

You old charmer. Come on in or the coffee will get cold.

Laughing, they both went inside the house.

Chapter 3

Isabella had exchanged her sunday dress for her riding costume. It was such a glorious spring day that she wanted to steal a few hours and venture out for a ride. It was the first, since the long winter, and it would do her and her mare Tipsy good to get off the ranch.

After the Reverend had been invited not only to the apple pie, but also for lunch, he was now on his way home, and Isabella had a little time to kill before she had to see to dinner. She had agreed with Louisa to be back on time. Quickly  she slipped into her brown winter riding skirt, which was made of heavy wool. Along with it she wore a white blouse with long sleeves and high collar. Against the still fresh temperatures, she put on her moss green jacket made of warm winter wool, which reached her hips and had a longer peplum towards the back. Her appearance was completed with warm, wool-lined, brown riding boots, black gloves, a jaunty lime-green scarf, tied around her neck and a cowboy hat that did not quite match her elegant style of dress, but was very practical and under which she hid her long, chestnut hair.

With a last, satisfied look in the mirror, she left her room and made her way to the stable. Normally, she did not make such a fuss about her appearance,  but today was a beautiful day and she was looking forward to her ride. So why not dress up for a change? The opportunities on a ranch were not very often available. With a smile on her lips and a little melody in her head, she arrived at the huge barn. The stables were part of a large barn complex located near the main house. One barn housed the horses used for ranch work.

Just behind it were several paddocks where the horses now grazed and quite a few small and larger paddocks where the cowboys could break in new horses or drive cattle in for branding. In one of these small paddocks, a bit off to the side, stood a black stallion that watched her with attentive eyes. The ears pricked, he followed every move she made. Isabella thought about it and paused briefly before turning to the animal. Slowly, she walked toward the small paddock. Immediately the animal started to move and ran restlessly around.  Her father had caught the wild mustang a week ago and brought him here. He wanted him for himself and would have long ago ridden him but the animal was the devil in person. As soon as someone tried to approach him, he rose threatening.

When Isabella came closer, the stallion started to snort, tossed his black mane wildly back and forth and pranced on the ground. Isabella stopped. She was  only a short distance away from the

fence and could see the diabolical eyes of the animal. 

It was a beautiful animal, but unfortunately unrideable and she wondered, as she turned around and went back to the stable, what her father was going to do with him. Well, today she was going to spend some quality time with her own horse. Her chestnut mare was already neighing happily when she  heard her coming down the aisle. Tipsy was a good-natured horse,  that Isabella had bought as a foal for her fifth birthday. Since then they were one heart and soul and understood each other blindly, when they rode out together.

Well beautiful? Shall we go for a ride today? It's so beautiful outside. You'll like to let the wind blow through your mane.

The mare joyfully rubbed her nostrils against Isabella's arm and neighed approvingly, as if she had understood what she had just heard. It was not long before Isabella had saddled her horse and left the stable. Skillfully, she swung herself into the saddle and steered her mare in the direction of the main house, since her grandfather had just come out of the front door.

Do you want to take a little ride?

Yes, it's lovely today and I haven't been out for a long time.

Don't ride too far, though. Did you bring the rifle? Just in case?

She reached up to her right thigh and pulled the rifle stock out of the holster a little so that her grandfather could see the weapon.

It's all there, I'll be back in a couple of hours. See you later.

She slid the rifle back into the holster, tapped her hat in salute and gave her mare the command to trot. Joyfully they both trotted off.

The sun was shining brightly from the sky and not a single cloud clouded the weather. First she rode a good distance along the fence of the cattle pasture and had seen several of her father's cowboys at work. The ranch was located in a kind of high valley.