Sundancer (Cheyenne Series) (43 page)

      
“I will not. You will.”

      
“But...but how?”

      
“If he heals his soul, comes to peace with himself and who he is, will you take him back as your husband?”

      
“Yes, of course.”

      
“Then you will convince him that he must pledge to make a Medicine Lodge.”

      
“You believe this will heal him?”

      
“I know it is so. When you first came among us, I was given to see that you would draw the Lone Bull after you. But I did not know for what purpose. Now I do. His long exile from the People and from himself will be ended.”

      
Cain might doubt the old man's mystic powers, but after spending time with Sees Much, Roxanna was not so quick to dismiss them. “Then I will try to convince him.”

      
“Oh, you will convince him,” Sees Much replied dryly.

* * * *

      
Cain sat in front of the low-burning fire in the lodge, staring at Roxanna in stupefaction. “You want me to do what?” It was a good thing they were already sitting down, else he'd have fallen over. “Me participate in that barbaric ritual!”

      
Roxanna sighed. “I knew you would react this way. You don't want to belong here...but don't you see? If you don't come to terms with this part of who you are, we can have no happiness. No matter how hard you've tried to prove yourself as white, all your life you've been thwarted...inadvertently even I've played a part in that. Perhaps there was a reason for the way we met.”

      
‘That sounds like my uncle talking. Fate's grand design—visions from the Powers.” He could not believe she had fallen for the old man's bizarre schemes.

      
“Don't scoff! You have to know and accept who you really are—not just Cain the outsider, the man who needs no one, who lives for his hate, but Damon the lost son, too. The Lone Bull is the key.” Should she tell him about her dream? Roxanna was not certain. Perhaps that was best left unspoken. He must find his own way...if only he would agree to search for it. “Sees Much believes this ceremony will help you see who the Lone Bull is. It would reunite you with your people. Then you wouldn't be Not Cheyenne—you wouldn't need Cain any longer. You wouldn't have to hide behind the stigma of outcast.”

      
He stiffened angrily. The words bit deep. “Hide? The last thing I've ever been able to do in either world is hide my mixed blood.”

      
“No, you've thrown it down like a gauntlet in front of your grandfather, in front of your uncle—in front of me. You dare anyone to love you, just because your father refused. You keep us all at arm's length. You're a coward, an emotional cripple who's never come out from behind the wall he built when he was deserted as a ten-year-old boy!” Roxanna scrambled to her feet and fled from the lodge, tear-blinded.

      
Cain sprang after her, but she was nearer the door flap and slipped out of his grasp. With an angry oath he pursued her, his long-legged strides quickly catching up to her as she reached the stream flowing along the west side of the camp. She stood with her back to him, slightly out of breath, fighting back the tears.

      
Whatever made Sees Much believe she could convince him? For once the old shaman had been wrong. Or had he? There was one trump card she had not played. Would it matter enough to him that he would agree? She would be taking a grave risk to tell him. How much did she believe in Sees Much's vision? How much did she love her husband? “I am with child, Cain,” she said quietly, turning to face him. They stood alone in the twilight. She tried to read his expression but could not.

      
For the second time that night he felt pole axed as confused thoughts—joy and fear—tumbled around in his mind. “How long have you known?” he asked at length, certain that she had withheld the information deliberately.

      
“Six weeks, a bit more, perhaps. The time never seemed right. I learned it the day of the first attempt on my life. By the time you returned from the grading camp, Isobel Darby sent the second assassin and I was forced to tell you who I was. Then…”

      
“You were so unsure of me you didn't want to tell me,” he finished for her, remembering how he had lashed out at her for using him. A painful wry smile played about his lips, then vanished sadly. He ached to take her in his arms, but some instinct held him back. “Hell, Roxy, we are a fine pair.”

      
“I won't let this baby grow up with a father who will see his child's mixed blood the same way he sees his own.”

      
“So that's what this is all about,” he said angrily.

      
“Did you ever in all your plans and schemes to become a railroad baron, to destroy Andrew Powell—did you ever think about a wife and children—children who would share one quarter of their blood with Leather Shirt and Sees Much?”

      
“No,” he admitted, “I never thought to marry at all until you. I knew it would be hard on you...and on any children.”

      
“Leave me, Cain,” she said coldly, numb with hopelessness. “It's better if I go away. Anywhere—back East, to San Francisco—”

      
“Back to Larry.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around to face him. “I don't think so.”

      
“You can't force me to stay with you,” she said stubbornly.

      
“You called me a coward. What if I make a Medicine Lodge? Would it prove to you that I cared about you—about our baby?”

      
Was this the way Sees Much intended for him to make the pledge? There was a note of quiet despair in his voice that she had never heard before, beyond jealousy, beyond anger. Was it love? That would be a start. Perhaps it was all that was needed...for now. “Yes, Cain. It would prove that you care,” she replied.

* * * *

      
Cain approached Sees Much to make the arrangements. The old man seemed completely unsurprised that his cut hair nephew was willing to undergo the Medicine Lodge ritual. “You were certain that I'd agree to this?” he asked.

      
Sees Much smiled. “I was certain. Her Back Is Straight did not quite believe...but you are here.”

      
“She has no idea what it means to swing to the pole, does she?”

      
“I did not speak of that part, no. Do you fear it?”

      
“I'm not afraid of pain,” Cain answered quickly, but he knew what his uncle meant. Was he afraid of what the ancient ceremony would reveal? He had spent his whole life trying to escape this world. Now he was being trapped inside its circle once more…
for her, for their child
. Dread of the unknown seized his guts, twisting them until he sweated in the cool night air.

      
The old shaman squinted at his nephew through rheumy dark eyes. “You are not afraid of the physical pain, I know,” he replied.

      
“You've convinced her I'll have some sort of mystical vision,” he said dismissively, then leaned forward, adding, “or is this an atonement for my past sins?”

      
“You have much to atone for...both with the People and with your woman, I think. It will be good. I will speak with your grandfather and we will plan the ceremony.”

      
“Do you believe Leather Shirt will permit me to be the pledger? He has never forgiven me for the death of High-Backed Wolf.”

      
“It is time that too ended. This will be the means for a new beginning. My brother will agree.”

      
Later that night, as Sees Much made his way to Leather Shirt's lodge, he was not at all as certain as he had led Cain to believe. His brother's heart was bad toward the one he called Not Cheyenne. But Sees Much had faith in the dreams he had experienced, dreams which had become increasingly vivid in the months after the Lone Bull and Her Back Is Straight had left them. He entered Leather Shirt's lodge and made his request as soon as they had shared a pipe.

      
Leather Shirt sat in the gathering darkness, staring into the flames in the fire pit. ‘‘Many of the people will remember how he killed High-Backed Wolf. He is still Not Cheyenne.”

      
“After four years a banishment may be lifted. The autumn hunt will be blessed by the blood sacrifice of the Medicine Lodge. There will be many buffalo. Our people will have full bellies once more.”

      
“Will the Powers be pleased when the Medicine Lodge is pledged by one who is half white? Who has shed Cheyenne blood?” Leather Shirt played devil's advocate, worrying the idea in his mind.

      
Sees Much smiled. “I have seen his dance in many dreams now. Come, I will tell you of them. Then you may speak with the warrior societies about breaking camp.”

* * * *

      
Cain awakened suddenly, hearing the old familiar sounds of the crier riding through the village announcing the day's activities. He remembered listening eagerly as a small boy, each morning awash with fresh hope that His Eyes Are Cold would return that day. Brushing the old pain away, he sat up, looking at the empty pallets around the fire pit.

      
Roxanna had slept on the opposite side of the fire from him with Sees Much's granddaughters, while he had been forced to share this side with his aged uncle. The night had been still and close and he had slept poorly, angry to have her so near yet so far from him after searching so long to find her. Then the nightmare had come. When he woke from it, he had lain awake for hours, refusing to sink again into the morass of blood and pain. He felt a deep dread of the unknown. Or perhaps simply of what he wished not to know. Eventually, he had drifted off again into a deep dreamless sleep.

      
What insane impulse had made him agree to this barbaric ordeal? Roxanna was his wife. She carried his child. He had every right to pack her on a horse and ride out of here, the Medicine Lodge, his uncle, the whole Cheyenne nation be damned! But he had made a pledge for her sake. Now he must carry it through. Would it do what she hoped? What Sees Much believed would happen? Cain doubted...but he would have to try anyway.

* * * *

      
As Cain was listening to the morning crier, another watched the Elk Soldier making his rounds. Johnny Lame Pony was too far away to make out his words, but it did not matter. Cain had come to Leather Shirt's camp after his white woman and that was as it should be. The old chief apparently was not letting her go back with her husband so quickly. Johnny smiled. “There will be plenty of time to bring the Blue Coats to the camp in search of MacKenzie's granddaughter,” he said.

      
“Then we make certain both the half-blood and his woman die when soldiers ride in,” Weasel Bear replied.

      
Johnny motioned to the two other Cheyenne renegades with them and they slipped away from their hiding place. It would take them a day's hard ride to reach Dillon, another to return here. Then they would collect their pay from the Iron Horse man. Weasel Bear would receive a fine new string of horses and have revenge on the band who had disowned him. Johnny Lame Pony would receive enough whiskey to stay drunk for at least a month.

      
Down in the camp, Roxanna and Willow Tree brought pails of fresh water from the stream and set about making the morning meal. “Is true Lone Bull pledge to make Medicine Lodge?” the Cheyenne asked Roxanna, while chopping wild onions for the bubbling pot.

      
“A Sun Dance? Yes. He has agreed.”

      
Willow Tree smiled knowingly. “He does for you.” At her friend's nod, she added, “Will be good for whole village. Bring many buffalo.”

      
“Just so it brings him peace,” Roxanna replied.

      
Willow Tree studied the white woman shrewdly. “Why you no sleep with your man?”

      
Roxanna flushed, thinking of Cain lying across the lodge from her. She had ached with the need to feel his arms around her, to have the solid comfort of his big hard body spooned against hers. “The time is not right. This is a testing period for him.” She could not jeopardize it by giving in to her own weakness. “If I lie with him, he might decide to take me away, back to the Iron Horse camp. Then nothing would be settled between us.”

      
Willow Tree grunted in approval, understanding abstinence before a pivotal event in a warrior's life. “Lone Bull sweat, pray, then make big sacrifice to Powers.”

      
Sees Much had described the ceremony to Roxanna, so she possessed a vague idea of how it would go. Cain must perform a vision quest through an elaborate four-day ritual of fasting and dancing. If the shaman was wrong and Cain had no dream, at least he would have come to terms with the customs of his mother's people. Surely there would be some benefit in his participation, even if he did it only to prove his love for his wife.

      
He still has never spoken of love.
Before she could worry that thought any further, Cain stepped outside the lodge. Several days' growth of beard made him look piratical. His expression when he looked at her was unreadable.

      
Nodding to Willow Tree, Cain paused by Roxanna and said, “When that water boils, bring me a bowl of it for shaving,” then continued on his way down to the stream.

      
Roxanna gritted her teeth at the arrogant male presumption, but Willow Tree seemed to see nothing amiss in the command. Cheyenne women performed many such menial tasks. She supposed white women did too, but it helped when their men were at least polite enough to say please!