Night Thunder's Bride: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 3 (16 page)

“But I heard them, I saw them. One cannot see ghosts,” Rebecca frowned. “And what do you mean, body parts cut off?”

Night Thunder didn’t answer right away. Instead, he kept his stride on a par with the others, not even glancing over his shoulder to ensure she followed. When he finally did speak, she had to strain to hear him. “Most people cannot see those who are departed because they no longer have the physical body to identify them. But their shadow can be felt and experienced if one will only let himself be aware of them.”

“But I wasn’t trying to be ‘aware’ of them,” she complained. “And I didn’t
feel
them. I
saw
them.”

“Perhaps it was because you were with me.”

“With you, but—”

“Within my family runs the power to see into the future, to change the weather, even to call to the buffalo. And sometimes, there are those of us who can talk to the dead. It is something I have been trained to do.”

Rebecca quickened her pace so that she kept stride with Night Thunder. “Trained? What do you mean, trained?”

“Perhaps this is not the right word. I have long been an…apprentice with our medicine man. It is something I have learned to do, to talk to the dead.”

“I don’t believe in such things. What are you, a mystic?”

“I do not know what this thing is, a ‘mystic,’ and I do not ask you to believe.” He paused and seemed lost in thought, though he quickly picked up his pace. “Still there must be some reason why they chose me to see them, to hear them. Perhaps they are hoping that I can discover a way to free them from the spell of those they fought, so that their shadows might yet find the Sand Hills.”

“Night Thunder, I—”

“I will have to think on it. Perhaps there is something I can do. Come here now and let us not talk of this again.”

“But what did you mean by being blinded or having body parts cut off? What has that to do with them?”

He stopped and let the others move off away from him as he turned to face her. She froze. Despite the intimacy she had shared with this man last night, she felt herself cower from his imposing figure.

“It is a belief of my people that the way in which one departs this world is the same way he must spend the rest of eternity. And so there are those warriors who, after a fight, will blind an opponent or cut off a part of his body, that his enemy might have to go to the next world so burdened. There are those who, having departed this world with a missing body part, choose not to seek out the next life, but determine to stay in this one, hoping to find someone who might at last be able to reverse the spell.”

Rebecca didn’t utter a word in response to this bit of Indian lore, though she stared hard at the man who had only last night held her and made love to her. She frowned and silently fought a battle within herself to hold back her opinions about such things. It was not her place to pass judgment on the beliefs of another. Still, these things of which he spoke were so foreign to her, she found herself wondering about him, and perhaps even more about herself. Had she really given her heart to this man?

Somehow at this moment it didn’t seem real,
he
didn’t seem real.

“Come,” he spoke to her, turning away from her at the same time. “We are too far behind the others.”

Rebecca allowed him to tread on ahead of her while she stood still, lost in her own thoughts. Ghosts, or “shadows,” as he called them, talking to him, calling to him, asking him to set them free from earthly haunts? Could one really be “trained” to talk to such spirits? She didn’t believe in such things, she wouldn’t believe. Yet didn’t her own Irish heritage have similar tales? Aye. Still, this was too much for her to grasp all at once, and she felt herself growing distant from Night Thunder, in more than just a physical sense.

The Indian’s view of life made little sense to her. For instance, no one had made comment upon the fact that both she and Night Thunder had been gone the entire night, something she felt hard pressed to comprehend. In truth, it appeared that the Indians, as a people, rarely condemned one for things which seemed important to her, yet made much over what to her were trivial matters.

Perhaps she would never understand them.

With the flip of her hand, she shook back her hair and tipped her head to face toward the sun, welcoming the warm rays of the morning. She paused for a moment more, letting the sun settle in upon her as though it might wash away her thoughts. But too soon, she realized she could no longer see the Indians, and picking up her skirt, she hurried to catch up to Night Thunder and the others.

Though Blue Raven Woman knew she shouldn’t, she met her brother’s gaze from over the blaze of the campfire. Quickly she looked away.

Had he seen her?

Her brother would discipline her, she knew, if she did something to bring her family shame. But it wasn’t this that caused her to look away. It was her own emotion she feared, not her brother.

Drawing her buckskin robe up to cover her face, Blue Raven Woman turned away from the evening’s tribal gathering, feeling as though she were being engulfed by a sickening sensation of her spirit.

What could she, a lone woman, do? She loved the young warrior, and he loved her. But it could never be. She was promised to another.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love and respect Night Thunder, her betrothed; it was that Night Thunder seemed more brother to her than lover. Of course, she couldn’t be certain, since she had never had a lover.

But she had known Night Thunder all her life, had grown up with him, played games with him as a child. He seemed a part of her family—not in the role of husband, but rather like a relative.

How could she marry him?

Yet, she must.

She had told her mother and her father of her vision, but as she had predicted, no one had believed that she, a young woman, without fasting, without doing the proper honor to Sun, had been granted a vision. Perhaps it was just as well. Surely the dream would only strengthen Night Thunder’s cause. Yet she had wondered who was this golden-haired woman? What did the vision mean?

Still, it mattered little now.

Blue Raven Woman threw back the hide flap of her mother’s
niitoyis,
tepee, and stepped a foot inside the lodge, ignoring the welcoming scents of sweet grass and smoke. Tears fell from her eyes and she knew she had to get away. She couldn’t let her parents, her brother, find her like this.

Grasping hold of the water hide, she made her way back outside, her path taking her to the stream, which ran close by their encampment. Perhaps if she were lucky she would avoid her grandmother this night, too, since it was her grandmother’s job to keep a close watch upon her, an unmarried maiden, in a village of virile men.

She didn’t want to explain her feelings for the young warrior to her grandmother. A lecture, and a story of what had happened to other women who had been disloyal to their families, would be hers for her trouble.

Blue Raven Woman paused at the stream, her gaze seeking out Sun’s favorite wife, Old Woman, the moon.

Somehow, she felt that Old Woman would understand her. Yet what could they do, she and Old Woman? Custom dictated she marry Night Thunder. It was binding upon her…and upon Night Thunder.

“You should not be out here at this time of night alone.”

Blue Raven Woman jumped and dropped the skin that she used to collect water. This was not her grandmother’s voice. This was male.

She made a grab for her knife, which she kept at her back. Perhaps she had been reckless to come here alone, especially at night. But she would keep her honor. She would not let this interloper seduce her.

The steel edge of her weapon glinted under the moonlight and Blue Raven Woman silently thanked her father for the gift of the white man’s blade, which he had secured in last year’s trade. “
Kyai-yo
!”
she cried out. “Who goes there?”

“Do not be afraid. It is I, Singing Bull.”

She sighed, while at the same time her heart lurched. But her voice was steady, giving no indication of her inner turmoil, as she said, “You should not be here. Others will talk if we are discovered, and I would shame my family; possibly I might even have to pay the penalty of being seen with you.”

“No one has followed me, I am certain.”

She turned away from him and picked up her water skin, though she didn’t replace her knife in its sheaf. “You come here to me under the guise of starlight and there is no punishment for you if we are discovered, but there would be humiliation for me. Please, if you care for me, go away.”

He didn’t come closer, to her, which she knew was good; yet at the same time she wanted him near to her, and the weight of the conflicting emotions made her feel unnaturally giddy.

“I will leave here as soon as I ensure that
Suyi Tupi,
the Water People, do you no harm.”

“They would not dare to hurt me so close to our camp. Please, you must leave me.”

“
Aa,
yes, I will.” He paused as though he expected her to say something else, but when nothing was forthcoming, he carried on, saying, “I have only come here to ask you to wait for me.”

“Wait for you?”

“
Aa.
I go to honor myself and bring home glory for you and your father, that he might think more kindly on me and upon my appeal for you.”

“
Saa
! You do not intend to steal horses, do you? You might be killed.”

He shrugged.

“Do you not realize that it matters not that you bring honor to the village? Your suit was not denied because of you or your family. I am to marry Night Thunder. It has always been so. It cannot be changed.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I know it. I tried to tell you this once before—Night Thunder and I have been pledged to each other since we were children. Our parents made the oath and you know well that it cannot be set aside, no matter my feelings…” she glanced up at him hopefully, “…or yours.”

He jerked his head to the left before he said, “Do you think your father would still ignore me if I bring him twenty, maybe thirty horses?”

“
Aa.
Have you lost control over your senses? Your lack of wealth is not the reason you were denied. No one disputes your prowess as a warrior. Wasn’t it only last year that you brought home the glory of three Cree scalps, those who had tried to murder us in our sleep? No one doubts you.”

She felt him look away from her and she glanced over her shoulder, wishing all at once that she hadn’t. The moonlight played over the shadows of his features, making him appear as handsome as her idea of the Blackfoot legend, Scarface.

She observed Singing Bull shift his feet, and instinctively she knew something was wrong.

She arose and took one step toward him, “What is it?”

He didn’t answer.

“What is it you do? There is more than horses you go to seek, is there not?” And when still he didn’t answer, she knew it was true. She gasped. “You go to join the war party against the Assiniboin, do you not?”

He glanced away from her.

“It is not necessary.”

“Perhaps,” said Singing Bull, “and yet even if this is true, I do not want to live without you.” His voice broke and she had to strain to hear this last part.

“
Saa
, you do not need to do this. There must be another way.”

“I would rather die than watch you with Night Thunder.” Singing Bull stood firm before her, though she heard a catch in his voice as he continued, “We could steal away this night, and when we return, we will be married. Your parents would have to accept it.”

“They would only do so if you have the necessary payment of horses to give to my family to atone for the insult done to them. Do you have them?”

He didn’t answer.

And she persisted, “And what of my brother? You know that he would have the right to discipline me.”

“I can make him understand, I think. He respects me. And I would not let him mar you.”

She remained silent. Oh, how she wanted to relent. But the consequences, if their marriage were not accepted, were far too great. Nor would it be easy to face the shame she would cause her family.

Singing Bull persisted, “Will you do it? After we become married, I will go and capture many horses and give them to your father. You know that I can do this.”

More silence. She bowed her head and when she didn’t answer at once, she saw Singing Bull shudder as though he had only now realized the impossibility of the truth. He uttered, “I ask too much of you, I think. I understand that. And it is as it should be. You will do as your father wishes and bring honor to your family and I will bring glory to myself and our tribe by driving the Assiniboin back to their homeland. So is the way of the people.”

Staring up at him, her heart cried out to him, but what could she do? What he suggested was not possible. She closed her eyes and sighed, murmuring to herself, “
Aa,
it is the way of things.” Bending, she picked up her water skin, replaced her knife in its sheaf at her back, and straightening up, she fled toward the shelter of her home; fled before she changed her mind and put honor and love of family second to the love of her life.