Stone Heart's Woman
The Mary Poppins Returns star shares her favorite new movie, and the docuseries she's obsessed with. See what's on her Watchlist. Hearts of Stone 12 Aug Deadly Women are not always the ones you expect. They are not the strangers lurking in the dark, they are a young mother, a supportive wife and a grandmother - all killers. Behind their loving masquerade lies a wake of family horror and pain.
Enjoy a night in with these popular movies available to stream now with Prime Video. Start your free trial. Find showtimes, watch trailers, browse photos, track your Watchlist and rate your favorite movies and TV shows on your phone or tablet! The story is set on the plains of Kansas in , where General George Custer has destroyed a village of Cheyenne Indians. Seeking revenge, a band of Lakota Indians led by Tokalah Michael Greyeyes attack a wagon train headed to Fort Hays, Kansas, where they kill everyone in the wagons. However, strangely, when Tokalah comes to the remaining wagon that is driven by Anna Brewster Janine Turner , he lets her and her pregnant friend go.
Not long after her arranged marriage, Anna is being visited by Sarah Jean Louisa Kelly when Tokalah and other Lakota men break into her home and take both women. Daniel and Stewart try to go after them, but are unsuccessful in following their trail, as is Captain Robert Farnsworth Dennis Weaver who later joins the hunt. At the Lakota camp, Sarah resists blending in while Anna takes more readily to their culture as the months pass.
She and Tokalah, who begins to learn English from young Cetan William Lightning who is half white from his soldier father, grow closer and Anna realizes she is falling in love with him.
- Women's Wedding Rings.
Not wanting to commit adultery, she decides to escape with Sarah and they steal horses one night. However, Tokalah and his men catch up with them and Tokalah sends the men back with Sarah.
Stone Heart's Woman - Velda Brotherton
He and Anna argue, with Anna saying that she never asked to be taken from her husband, but Tokalah tells her that she did ask claiming that he heard her. Giving into her feelings for him, they spend a passionate night together on the plains. Daniel realizes that Tokalah has "lain with" Anna and Custer puts Luta under arrest, saying he will be hanged if both women are not returned.
Surely some must have gotten away.
Lulled by the dangerous, creeping cold, he lay thus for what seemed like a full night embraced by nightmarish visions. Many who could not escape Fort Robinson had killed their wives and children to save them from the white soldiers, then taken their own lives. Boys armed with broken knives went up against the fiery blast of rifles. Yet still some survived and fled alongside him. When he stirred from the reverie and opened his eyes, the sky gleamed like the burnished blade of his knife.
Only a few moments had passed, though it might have been an eternity. An eternity in which he punished himself for failing to save even one of them.
The great elk-hide coat had protected him from the cold, yet its weight added to his dilemma. He must rise, for he would be dead if he lay here any longer. It was clear the soldiers had moved on. The slightest movement inflamed the agony of his wounds. Leather fringes of his leggings clung fast to the frozen, bloodied ground. Filled with sadness and a growing rage, he welcomed the lances of pain that alerted his senses.
Pushing to both feet, jerking free of the chains of ice and shaking away the snow, he squatted there a moment to breathe raggedly of the carnage-tainted air. If slashing his wrists would rid him of every drop, he would yank his knife from its scabbard and do so. Fury drove him beyond the pain as he moved about among the dead, lifting a head here and there and recognizing one after the other of his dead brothers. His younger blood brother, Yellow Swallow, was not among them.
Only nine summers in age, he too had been sired by the cruel Custer.
A man who hated the Sioux and Cheyenne, but loved to lie with their women. Neither son would ever call him father. From where he searched along the bluffs he could see the dead strewn in the snow all the way down to the bridge over the White River. Let them not all be dead. Let some have escaped onto the prairie.
Others may have been taken back to the fort by the white soldiers. Hope diminished the sorrow that cut deep into his heart, but he refused to allow either of the emotions to blur a rage that swelled within his chest until his heart thundered like the drums of battle. His Cheyenne soul and spirit roared in defiance, the bellow cutting the cold air and hammering at the lightening sky. He would kill them all, every white man that walked this land. If the soldiers had his people, they would be at Fort Robinson, but not for long.
Soon they would be sent back down south to Indian Territory, a punishment worse than death. For six moons they had fled that place, only to be recaptured. They must be allowed to go north to their home where they could live and die in peace, yet he had so little strength left in his body. Still he felt weak, depleted.
How could he make this happen when he could scarcely move? He must rest, recover, and then rescue all who had survived. With the distasteful purpose in mind, he set about robbing the dead, for only in that way could he live. He would need weapons, medicines, clothing to ward off the bitter cold, and food, though he doubted he would find much to eat on these half-starved, escaped captives.
Hardening his heart and spirit, he searched the bodies of his friends, brave warriors he had lived and worked and played with. He amassed an assortment of items: Constructing a backpack with a large four-point trade blanket, he shrugged into it and retreated from the haunted place of death. To leave his friends like this shattered his stone heart, but he could do nothing for them except save the living. By full daylight he had traveled a painfully short way from the massacre, driven forward by something buried so deep within him he could not give it a name.
Moving beyond the pain and exhaustion into another plane where spirits guided the soul. Only temporarily, he left the White River and Fort Robinson behind. He would return, but for now he stumbled along the bluffs and over the endless prairie, looking for a place in which he could heal.
Over and over he pitched face first into drifts swirled into mountains by the wind. Rose to move on only to fall again, until he could only crawl, leaving in the white powder a trail of blood. Once recovered he would return to Fort Robinson where he would live or die with what was left of the Cheyenne, whom even the whites referred to as the Beautiful People.
The color made her green eyes shine like turquoise. Though she wanted nothing more than to lie down and cover her head, she raised her chin and stepped through the door onto the boardwalk.
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A bitter wind tore at the filmy skirts, exposed her stockinged legs and threatened to rip loose her hairdo. She fought to keep everything under control. Racing from the street a mob of screeching followers descended upon Aiden, who threw her arms over her head in defense. Each attacker came armed with her favorite household weapon, beating her about the head and shoulders. The blows knocked her to her hands and knees, sent flashes of pain through her body. She tried crawling through the sea of swirling skirts, but the women quickly closed rank and trapped her. Embarrassment almost outweighed the pain.
A small bag filled of coins stuffed between her breasts popped out and dangled from the ribbon that secured it around her neck. Scrambling to all fours, she stuffed it back in place. Frantic to escape, she bumped into the solid legs of a man who dragged her upright into the shelter of his enormous bulk. She recognized aone of her admirers, Wiley Lawson, and leaned gratefully into the whisky smell of him. Lawson's voice all but drowned out by the uproar, he shouted. But the women had worked themselves into a frenzy and no mere man was about to slow them down. Does your husband know where you are?
She stumbled along the street, slipping and sliding through the churned, frozen ruts, past the theater where she would not be performing this night. The menfolk of town would have to find other recreation. Behind her the ranting mob finished with Lawson and turned once more on its original prey.
She rounded the corner into a bitter prairie wind that sucked her breath away. Gasping, stumbling, sobbing, turning her ankles in the absurd high-heeled boots, she jabbed her arms at the sleeves of the heavy coat. Gave up and hugged it around her half-bared chest. She dare not stop to put it on. Fury and outrage had turned the women from meek and obedient creatures to murderous predators.
At her back and closing on her quick came the rattle of wagon wheels over the frozen ruts. Horror squeezed at her heart, boiled in her stomach, crawled up her back as she imagined them gaining on her. The wagon was right on top of her.
Out of breath and out of options, she turned to face the charging women, chin thrust high, the oversized coat wrapped tightly around her quaking body. He slowed the horses, hauled back on the brake and gestured frantically. Lawson whipped the team into a full run, sending her tumbling around between bags of feed and wooden casks; an assortment of tools of some kind prodded at her skin.
Hearts of Stone
Finally she managed to grab the back of the seat and hang on. Kneeling on a fat gunny sack, every muscle throbbing, she twisted a quick look over her shoulder. The pursuing mob faded into the distance. Howling like a pack of wolves, they brandished their brooms at the glowering winter sky. A wedge of fear in her throat loosened. Sucking at the frigid air until her lungs nearly caught fire, she sank to her butt and held on tight while Lawson urged the team onward.
Galloping hooves thudded across the wooden bridge that spanned the river at the edge of town. The cold afternoon air crackled with the noisy clatter of wagon wheels over ice.
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