Celine (30 page)

He reverted to his grandfather's halting pidgin English. “Better than grandfather. White Eagle live three year with Boston man who trap beaver. He leave books with White Eagle.”

“Ah, so you read as well. Please, do go back to speaking fast English.”

“As you wish.”

“I do not understand. Why did you keep your English from me? I was not your enemy. Not in the sense your grandfather meant.”

“If you knew I spoke your language, you would have held your words in. Much wiser of me to be still and listen to the wailings of your soul, the sounds of sadness in your heart.”

A stream of memories clogged Celine's mind. “Well, there certainly was plenty of that going on.”

“I know the woman in you. The woman in you who is as strong as a tree—and the woman in you who needs. You have come to know me in my silence, as I have come to know you in your loud wailings. I have taught you how to listen to a man in ways other than his spoken word. You watch my eyes, and they speak to you. My body moves, and you watch for its signals. You have learned to talk without speaking. You have grown sensitive to all that I am.”

His countenance grew more serious. “Now, you are ready to deepen your understanding of the ways of the earth. Soon you will learn to reach far beyond the part of me that is flesh and blood, for your journey will be different now.”

White Eagle's features softened as his hand gently touched the top of her head. “You are a chosen one to have been given so much pain in life. It has been your testing ground. You are ready now to learn of Celine's
nitsokan.
”

“
Nit-so-kan,
” she whispered.

“Your purpose here. As we travel the long journey to your home, Mother Earth will whisper her secrets to you. You will become one with your true mother and father, your sisters and brothers. Your soul will grow from a speck of dust until it becomes one with the earth.”

She held on to his words, amazed at the man standing before her.

“You do not know yet that through your pain you have already grown in the way you were meant to do. White Eagle sees that hatred has been cut from your heart. Fear is the next foe you must attack, or it will destroy all you have worked for. Soon, you will learn ways to overcome what you fear most. You will learn to feel as you have never felt before. You will learn to listen with other than your ears, to think with your body, to touch with your mind.”

Celine looked upward, to the opening of the teepee where the swirl of smoke escaped and a shaft of sunlight found the dirt floor. How odd. She'd been taught to fear this kind of man, to view Indians as ruthless savages, yet in his silence along the trail, he'd taught her a gentleness she had never known. For a moment, she felt a peace beyond words.

“Where are your people?” he asked.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I . . . I . . . San Francisco, I suppose. Yes, San Francisco.”

“The direction the wagon train traveled?”

“Yes, it is a city where the land meets the sea. Oh, dear. You cannot possibly mean to take me all the way there.”

“I must.” He paused as a deeper layer of emotion flashed through his eyes. “Tonight I grieve my brother. Tomorrow we journey west.”

Loud voices interrupted them, followed by whoops and hollers, and then new drumming.

“My brother returns.”

“Do you mean blood brother, or brother of the tribe?”

“My youngest brother, Sun Dog. He and his war party arrive last. His task was to see that no one followed us to the village.”

He placed his hand on the small of Celine's back and gestured toward the teepee's opening. She stepped outside, and together they walked to the outer circle of teepees ringing the village. They reached their destination just as a band of warriors topped a crested butte and thundered into the village.

People streamed in from every direction. Teepees all over the village spewed forth young and old alike.

At the sight of a brave astride Trevor's mighty Friesian stallion with bloody scalps hanging from his waist, Celine's knees gave way. One of the scalps had black, wavy hair. “Trevor!” she screamed, and collapsed on the ground, crying his name over and over in a pitiful wail.

White Eagle grabbed her and lifted her to her feet. “You must sleep. And I must go to my grieving place. We will leave at dawn.”

He took her to a teepee in the inner circle with two young women standing at the entrance. Inside she found a glowing fire, a thick pallet and blankets—and warm food. Numb and sick at heart, she was barely aware of what she ate, or of the attention the women rained on her. When sleep evaded her, something hot and bittersweet was urged past her lips.

She awoke to the sound of birds warbling out the news that dawn had broken. She'd slept through the night as though the whole world had been cast silent for those few precious hours. At sun up, White Eagle took her from the camp. She did not know what kind of exchange he had arranged with Sun Dog, but when they rode out of the village, she was on a fresh pinto while White Eagle rode Panther.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Wolf shivered in the bitter north wind and tightened the belt on the heavy jacket he'd included in his saddle pack. He swiped at clumps of fat snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes and peered into the woods through a haze of silent falling snow.

And waited.

He'd located Celine sometime back, but when he'd realized she was with child and the snow was so deep, he'd decided it would be best to let her remain where she was until after the child was born. Especially since the Indian appeared to be taking great pains to look after her.

As winter deepened, Wolf wondered if Celine would even consider going back south and leaving the brave's child behind. There seemed to be a peaceful understanding between them, and no way in hell would an Indian freely allow his child to go off and live with the whites.

The more Wolf observed the two, the more guilt chewed at his gut. It would be one thing to snatch Celine back when the timing was right, but to bring harm to the child or to the child's father was now unthinkable. And so Wolf waited, letting time take its course, never forgetting the promise he'd made to his dying friend.

He had other concerns now. A pair of trappers trailed Celine and the Indian. Wolf knew what ugly things trappers were capable of doing to a white woman caught living with an Indian. He couldn't let that happen. In some odd way, Wolf found himself acting as protector to Celine's companion as well. Wolf had to make certain the man with Celine remained safe—ultimately to keep Wolf's promise to Trevor.

Sometimes he wanted to laugh out loud at the craziness of it all. And at the endless, slow-moving winter. On other occasions, he felt time hadn't passed at all, that he was still only six years old, watching as his mother was stalked. And he was helpless through it all.

 

 

Celine had lost track of time long ago, but by now it had to be late December. Her distended belly made moving about cumbersome, so White Eagle insisted it was time to stay put until after the baby arrived. Lately, she didn't wander far from their teepee, which stood inside a wooded area that provided shelter from the snow and winds.

She had grown concerned with his decision to remain in one place. For some time, White Eagle had thought there was someone around. Trappers, he suspected. They'd happened upon them before, but White Eagle had always picked up their trail fast enough to move on.

White Eagle and Celine stood together in a clearing about twenty-five yards from the teepee. They'd been gathering wood when Celine noticed how the fresh snowflakes flashed brilliant under the sun, like diamonds strewn about the land. Braving the deep powder, she laughed and threw her head to the sky, breathing in the crisp, fresh air.

A twinge gripped her hips, the third this morning. “I think my time may be soon,” she said calmly.

“I am prepared,” was all White Eagle said.

A shot rang out, followed by two more sharp cracks that echoed through the woods. White Eagle jerked and astonishment filled his eyes. Just as suddenly, he grew calm and nodded toward the teepee. “Go. Now.” At his words, blood spurted from his mouth, flecking the snow crimson. A red stain spread across his chest, and a line of blood dripped from beneath his sleeve and ran off his glove. “Your
nitsokan
has come.” He closed his eyes and crumpled.

“Oh, no, oh no!” Celine twisted her heavy body around in the deep snow and grabbed White Eagle by an arm. She pulled and tugged, tried to drag him through the snow and back to the teepee, but she only managed to bury him deeper as she pulled. Oh, God, she couldn't leave him here. The smell of fresh blood would bring wolves.

She looked down at his chiseled, calm face, and bit her lip to keep from crying out. She braced her legs in the snow, and pulled on his arm again. A deep, tearing pain scored her belly, and a rush of warm liquid flowed down her legs. The girdle of pain moved like a line of fire, from the small of her back around to her front. No different from the first time she gave birth.

“Oh, please, no,” she whispered. “Please, not now.”

The pains came fast and hard. She dropped White Eagle's limp arm and crawled through the snow toward the teepee. She made it as far as the edge of the woods, where the snow wasn't as deep as in the clearing. Another pain gripped her belly. She couldn't move and lay panting on the ground in front of a birch tree.

God help her, this couldn't be happening. Panic threatened to take her under. This was not the way things were supposed to be. The baby was coming so fast, reaching the teepee would be impossible. “Help me,” she muttered, “Oh, God, help me.”

When the contraction subsided enough for her to move again, she wriggled out of her leggings and hiked her shift to the tops of her thighs. She gulped in air, and sweat beaded her forehead. Another pang twisted her belly. She managed to slide her hands around the trunk of the tree and pull herself into a squatting position, as White Eagle had taught her. She locked her fingers together and leaned back, letting the tree take her weight. Blood splattered onto the ground and over the snow. The scent of birth filled her nostrils. Sweat blurred her vision. When another contraction passed, she threw her head back to gulp in air.

Then she stilled.

In between the pains, she caught movement: wolves. Wiping the sweat from her eyes with her shoulder, she glimpsed yellow, hungry eyes. The wolves were closer than she'd thought. The baby was coming fast now, and she called to the heavens for White Eagle to help her, to tell her what to do.

Was this her
nitsokan?
Was this what he'd meant by being faced with a terrible fear to overcome on her journey? The wolves circled, closing in. Hunched, hungry, and waiting, they watched her.

A shot rang out, so close she heard something whiz past her. The wolf nearest her dropped with a grunt, the others scattered.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. After all she'd been through, after all she'd done to keep her baby safe, they were both going to die at the hands of trappers.

A hand touched her back, supporting her. “Come on, Celine, just a little bit more, just one more push.” A strange voice, but it called her name. And the voice was gentle. She looked down to see the blur of her child's head on the bloody, frozen ground and heard the whisper in her ear again.

“There you go, there you go now. Such a sweet boy you have there, Celine.”

The baby gasped, and then a thin cry stirred the air. He sucked in his breath and wailed again. Long and hard. His cry was music from the angels, and Celine laughed through her tears.

The stranger eased her onto her back, and, placing the babe on her stomach, removed a piece of rawhide lacing from the front of his buckskin shirt. Quickly, he tied the cord and cut it with his knife, then swept both Celine and the babe in his arms and rushed them into the teepee.

Gently, he placed her on the pallet, covered her with fur robes, and then swaddled the babe with what she had at the ready. He tucked the child in beside her, and covered both of them. He leaned back on his heels.

The calm that pervaded Celine as she put her child to her breast was like nothing she'd ever experienced. “What is your name?” Despite all she had been through, her voice was hushed, filled with the miracle of her newborn son.

“Wolf.”

“Wolf,” she repeated softly. “Your brothers were after my son and me out there.”

“I had my eye on them. You were doing pretty good on your own before I could get to you.”

He cleared his throat as if he had something stuck, and continued. “Found you a couple of weeks ago. I watched the two of you, and figured your companion was doing a decent job of taking care of you, so I hung back—stayed just close enough in case you needed help.”

In the silence that followed, Celine regarded Wolf's tortured expression, studied his sad blue eyes. “I know you weren't the one who shot him.”

He swiped his hand over his face. “I've been sheltering in a cave back a ways. The new snow surprised me this morning. Too soft and deep to move fast.”

He dropped his head. “I'm sorry I didn't get here soon enough. At least I brought down the two trappers following you before they got ahold of you.” His words were little more than a rasp. “I'll go out in a bit and build a platform for him.” He paused a beat. “Any place you want.”

She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Nothing you could have done would have prevented what happened. His name was White Eagle, and he was to become his tribe's next chief.”

Wolf's soft exhale held a curse.

“He was taking me to San Francisco. Along the way he taught me many things, Wolf. He taught me that there is a circle of life, and it is never ending. He did not believe in the finality of death. I think he is still among us, just in a different way.”

Allowing her eyelids to drift shut seemed to help her gather more strength. “He was a brave man who insisted that taking me on this journey was part of his destiny. There was no pain in his face after it happened, only peace. I will always be grateful for what he did for me.”

Except for the baby's small squeaks and occasional suckling noises, it was quiet for a long while before Celine spoke again. She opened her eyes and studied the top of Wolf's bowed head. “Who sent you?”

Wolf shrugged, but the sudden blotches in his cheeks gave him away. “I hadn't wanted to get to that part just yet.”

She returned her gaze to her babe. His precious, tiny hand clutched a single finger, and she bent her head to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “Trevor is dead, isn't he?” She touched her lips to the baby's long black lashes, then the top of his thick, black curls.

Wolf did not answer. But when he finally raised his head, the pain in his eyes shot right through her. “Wolf,” she said. “This is Trevor's son.”

“What?” He lurched forward and peered at the sleeping baby, then back at Celine. “Jesus! Of course, of course,” he mumbled. “The timing.”

She lifted the babe and offered him to Wolf. “Would you like to hold Trevor's son? His name is Brandon. I gave him his father's middle name. It would have made Trevor proud.”

Wolf plopped down flat. She settled Brandon into his open arms, and he held the baby at an awkward angle, as if something might break. Celine took hold of Wolf's little finger and nudged it into the baby's fist. Brandon's dimpled fingers clamped down. Wolf let go a hard breath. And then he chuckled. “Damn, he's got his father in him, and it's not just the hair.”

A smile bloomed in Celine's heart, but she didn't know if she had enough strength for it to find her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered shut. “I'll leave you two alone for a moment. I am rather fatigued.”

“Trevor loved you so much. . . .” Wolf's words clogged in his throat.

She opened her eyes and placed a hand over his and Brandon's. “Tell me, Wolf.”

He tossed his head up and stared at the opening at the top of the teepee. His breath left his lungs in a shudder. “I have never known a man to love a woman the way he loved you. I don't know what it was, what you two had, but I doubt there is anyone who wouldn't want something like that.” He fell silent.

“I will never ask you what happened back by the wagon train. If I am to find Trevor, it will not be there. Instead, I will find him in my good memories, and I will see him in the heart and eyes of his son.”

Wolf swallowed hard. “We'll stay until you and the boy are ready to travel. Then I'll take you to San Francisco. But there'll come a time when I will return you to Trevor's father. It's what I promised Trevor.”