Silken Savage (11 page)

It was over. Tanya had won. She remained where she was until she heard confirmation from Black Kettle, then stumbled to her feet. With good grace, she held out a helping hand to Crooked Feather. For a moment she was afraid he would ignore the gesture. Then, with a wry grin, he caught her hand and let her help pull him to his feet.

Throughout all the contests Tanya had remained blank-faced, showing none of her emotions. At last she allowed a hint of a grin to tilt the corners of her mouth. “It was a good fight,” she said to Crooked Feather.

He nodded. “It
was
a good fight,” he agreed.

Black Kettle cleared his throat, but still his voice was husky as he spoke. “I, who have not been blessed with children of my own, may soon have a daughter.” His eyes glinted with pride as he looked at Tanya.

“Tomorrow you will track one of our best warriors, and if you find him, you will then need to elude three of our finest trackers. That will leave only one final test, other than counting coup on one of our enemies. You will go into the mountains for seven suns and survive on your own, with only your knife, your hatchet, your bow, a flask of water and one of pemmican, and your horse.”

“I will be ready,” Tanya concurred.

Black Kettle eyed her seriously. “I wish you well, Little Wildcat. You have done well so far, and if you can continue to do so, I will be honored to call you Daughter.”

A smile flirted at her rosy lips, and she couldn’t resist saying, “Prepare the feast, then, for I do not intend to fail.”

Black Kettle laughed aloud. “You have a great pride, Little Wildcat. You will make a fine Cheyenne if your actions match your words.”

Tanya gave him a level look and nodded. Then, shoulders straight, she walked back to her tipi, exhausted but pleased.

THE ATTACK came in the predawn light the next morning. Tanya was awake, dressed, and ready to begin preparing the morning meal, going over her day’s strategy in her head. Panther was pulling on his moccasins, about to commence his morning prayers, when the first shrieks were heard. The short hairs on Tanya’s nape stood straight up, and she stared in wonder at Panther.

“Ute war whoops,” he answered her unstated question tersely. He grabbed for his quiver, bow, and lance, and loped for the tipi entrance. “I must get to the horses.”

Breakfast forgotten, Tanya scooped up her bow and slipped the quiver of arrows over her shoulder. “I am coming with you,” she announced as she hurried after him.

Over his shoulder, he shouted, “No, Wildcat! Stay and find Shy Deer. If we lose the battle, run south along the river and hide. I will find you.” His voice was almost lost as he raced away on his stallion.

Checking that her knife was in its sheath at her waist, Tanya ran toward Shy Deer’s tipi. Several tipis along the north edge of the village were in flames. The air was filled with sounds of battle and the shrieks of frightened women and children. Thick smoke hung in the air, and dogs and humans alike seemed to be running indiscriminately in every direction.

Tanya was thrust roughly aside as three braves on horseback raced by her. A Ute arrow whizzed past her head as she dodged and weaved her way into the fray near Shy Deer’s lodge.

Rounding the lodge from the rear, she came abruptly upon a Ute warrior aiming his lance at Shy Deer’s back as she fought off another Ute brave. Without hesitation, Tanya lined up her shot and let the arrow fly. It drove cleanly between the warrior’s shoulder blades, and he fell from his horse, his lance still in his clenched fist. The brave attacking Shy Deer never knew what hit him, as Tanya’s knife neatly severed his spinal cord at the base of his neck. He lay twitching on the ground as Tanya tried to lead Shy Deer away.

“Wait!” Shy Deer cried. “You killed him. You must take his scalp!”

Tanya gaped at her in astonishment. “He isn’t even dead yet!”

Shy Deer’s eyes were glazed with a strange light. “You must,” she insisted. “It is the custom.”

Tanya’s throat muscles contracted as she stared at her friend. Finally she nodded, conceding that Shy Deer was right. She could ruin all chances of becoming Panther’s wife if she faltered now.

Before she could dwell on it further, she quickly knelt, and with the razor-sharp knife, she lifted the scalp as easily as if she were slicing venison for steaks. Because he was still alive, the blood ran in a river between her fingers and onto the earth. Tanya closed her eyes and mind to what she was doing, and when she was done, she went on to the other warrior she had slain and did the same. This time there was less blood, for the warrior was dead, but the loud ‘pop’ as the top of his skull sucked loose from the rest of his head sickened her, and she was glad she hadn’t had time for breakfast as her stomach lurched.

The attack was over almost as swiftly as it began. The Utes had surprised them, but had not caught as many of the Cheyenne asleep as they had hoped to. The Cheyenne warriors reacted quickly, and with a vengeance. Because most of them kept their horses near their tipis, they soon routed the raiding Utes and had them fleeing.

While a party of warriors chased the Utes across the plains, the rest of the villagers set about tending the wounded and assessing the damage.

Luckily, only two persons had been killed. One was a young boy who had been guarding the horses. His throat had been slit before he could sound the alarm. The other was an old woman who had been run down and trampled by a Ute warrior on horseback. Eight others had been wounded, two of them seriously. One warrior had taken a bullet in the chest, and another had a lance run through his shoulder. All the other wounds were slight and easily cared for.

Five tipis had been fired, and most of the women of the tribe donated goods from their own lodges to replace those that had burned. Tonight, several families would double up for shelter, but tomorrow the women would sew new lodge skins and gather lodge poles for five new tipis. Everyone would contribute something in either time, labor, or goods. It was the Cheyenne way to look after all members of the tribe, sharing the misfortunes as well as the good.

Tonight there would be ceremonies and mourning for those killed in the raid. Eight Utes had been killed so far. At least one Ute had been captured. More might be returning with the Cheyenne warriors later. This one had been knocked unconscious, but not seriously wounded. By dawn tomorrow he would be praying for death, for the Cheyenne would extract their vengeance in slow torture.

The morning was half gone when Black Kettle approached Tanya. She was sorting through some robes, trying to decide which to give to the families whose tipis had burned.

“Corn Crow awaits you, Little Wildcat,” he informed her.

She looked up at him, confused. “I don’t understand, my chief.”

“You are to track him today. Surely you have not forgotten,” the chief answered.

“I had not forgotten. I thought perhaps it would be put off for another day after all that has happened,” Tanya commented. She stood to follow him.

“No, we will proceed while we are awaiting the return of our warriors. Corn Crow is not the brave I had originally chosen, but he is available and he will do. When you have found him, you will go on into the foothills and I will send the others to track you. If they have not found you by the time the sun rests over the top of the foothills, return to camp.”

Black Kettle looked about at the destruction the Utes had caused. “Tonight there will be ceremonies for our dead and wounded, and then will be a war dance in preparation for our revenge on the Utes. Tomorrow our warriors will prepare themselves for war, and form a raiding party against the Ute camp. Repairs will be made to our own village, and while the raiding party rides out to seek revenge, the rest of the tribe will continue on to our winter grounds.”

“While we spend our days at these things, you, Little Wildcat, will finish your testing. Time grows short, and there is much to be done yet in preparation for winter. You must take advantage of this opportunity while you can, for Panther has told me of the babe you carry. Regardless of what you may think, I too prefer my first grandchild to be born properly, with his parents wed. Any risks to the child I wish to have behind us as soon as possible, so we can all settle down and await a healthy baby, preferably a boy.” Tanya laughed despite herself. “Naturally, I’ll try my best, but often nature surprises us. My father also wanted sons, and got two daughters instead.”

Black Kettle smiled with her. “A son is a man’s immortality, but there is no shame in having a courageous daughter like you, Little Wildcat.”

He eyed her belt. “Where are the scalps you took this morning?”

“They are in the tipi,” she answered rather reluctantly.

Black Kettle gave her a sharp look. “You must prepare them properly to preserve them. You have counted coup on two of our enemy today, and saved the life of Shy Deer, who sings your praises. You have earned our gratitude; now go and earn your place in our tribe.”

Even given a healthy head start, Corn Crow stood no chance against the excellent training Panther had put Tanya through. She cornered him in little over an hour. As he returned to a prearranged meeting place to inform her three waiting trackers, Tanya headed for the rocky foothills as Black Kettle had instructed her.

For a short while she followed a well-traveled track she stumbled across, mixing her horse’s tracks with those of the deer. When she came across a river, she urged Wheat into the cool water, and followed it upstream for a few miles. Where she exited the water on the opposite bank, she dismounted and carefully covered her trail.

Some time later, she came across a rocky ledge. Here she dismounted, tied her pony, and explored the crevices. Hidden behind a huge boulder and a thick, bristly bush, she stumbled across a small, shallow cave. It was a tight squeeze, even for her, but she finally managed to get to it and carefully explored it for inhabitants. Luckily, there were no signs of any.

Climbing back down, she rode Wheat further into the trees, taking care not to ride her mare over rocks where her hooves would mark their surfaces. Eventually she found a thicket and led her horse into it and tied her. With a strip of leather, she fashioned a muzzle, hoping it would prevent her from whinnying should the trackers pass close by.

This done, she repaired the damage to the thicket and backtracked the way they had come, erasing the tracks as she went. When she reached the ledge, she wedged herself into the tiny cave and waited. The cave was set crosswise so that if she peeked out to her left, she could see the top of the foothills, and if she looked to her right and down, she could see for miles in the direction from which she had approached.

Tanya guessed she had been cramped into her cave about two hours or more when she thought she heard voices on the breeze. Hardly daring to move, she eased her head around and looked down to her right. There, far down the way, she spied two of her trackers. She recognized them as Towering Pine and Snail of her tribe.

As she watched, they looked up almost directly at her and waved. For a moment she thought they had spotted her, but almost instantly she realized they were signaling to someone above her.

“Drat!” she thought to herself. “Only another hour or so and I would have won!” If they had followed her this far, they were sure to find her soon.

Hooves rang out on the rocks not far above her, and soon the third rider came into her view. It was Clever Fox. He glanced her way, and Tanya dared not breathe, or even blink. Her eyes watered from the strain and her lungs begged for air. Finally he turned away and was soon hidden from her view. Cautiously she drew a much needed breath, thankful she had had the foresight to remove the colorful headband.

Snail and Towering Pine now split up, slowly going in opposite directions, obviously searching for signs. This told Tanya they had lost her trail, and she could only hope they didn’t find it again.

Anxiously, Tanya sweated out her remaining time, her eyes and ears constantly alert for her trackers. Once more she thought she heard them far below her, but she could not spot them. At long last, the sun touched the peak of the foothills, and cramped as she was, Tanya made herself wait still longer to make sure they had really gone before she crept quietly from her hiding place.

She eased her rebelling muscles into a more comfortable stance, and rubbed and stretched them until she could once more move without painful needles shooting up her limbs and back. Then, on fleet, silent feet, she returned for her horse.

The stars had come out and the night sky was deepening from purple to black when she rode into the camp. She had stayed well behind the three braves on her return trip. Tanya rode directly up to Black Kettle’s tipi, where the three trackers were in con- ference with Panther and the chief outside his lodge.

She arrived just in time to hear Snail saying, “There was no sign of her after a while. Perhaps she will not return, but will try to find her old family.”

“I think not,” Panther declared, catching sight of her as she neared. His smile nearly split his face. “Little Wildcat has returned!”

Five sets of dark eyes settled on her, but Tanya had eyes only for Panther. “It is well that you taught me so expertly, Panther, for they nearly found me,” she said.

“Where?” Towering Pine wanted to know.

Tanya favored him with a smile. “Among the rocks near the long ledge, there is a small cave. When I saw you and Snail below me, I was sure you had located my trail, especially when Clever Fox rode almost directly over my head. You came so close I couldn’t believe it when you didn’t discover me after all.”

Tanya dismounted wearily, and Panther was instantly at her side. “You are tired. Go to our lodge and rest. I will have someone look after your horse. I will send Walks-Like-A-Duck with food, and then you will sleep until I send for you.”

Tanya started for the tipi, but Black Kettle’s voice stopped her. “Little Wildcat, you are well?”

She glanced back to meet his concerned look. “Yes, my chief, I am quite well,” she answered with a nod. “Just tired, very tired.” As if to prove her point, her feet dragged every step of the way to her tipi, and her shoulders sagged, for once refusing to remain straight.