Night Thunder's Bride: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 3 (6 page)

It was then that her eyes met his, dark brown—almost black and—they were watching her.

She hurriedly gazed away, embarrassed. He clearly had seen her scrutinizing him. What must he think of her?

How could she have been so bold?

Yet he said nothing, nor did he appear amused by her overt appraisal.

“Are you ready to leave the lodge?” he asked, and she breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment Rebecca was glad that this man was not of the civilized world, that instead of calling attention to her brazenness, he seemed willing to gloss over what could only be a temporary departure from manners.

“I…” she glanced down at the wrinkles in her dress, trying to remember a time when she had gone before others looking as mussed as she did now. She could not recall any such experience. Perhaps there was something to be said for not sleeping in one’s clothing. Still, it couldn’t be helped now. She said, “I suppose that I am.” She rose to her feet.

If he were truly embarrassed by her tousled look, he displayed no such reaction. He said, “Follow me and keep close. You do not have to say anything, but…you might smile a little. The others may expect to see you showing a little happiness after our night together.”

She nodded, and he threw open the flap of the tepee and stepped outside. Rebecca had no choice but to follow.

The cool breeze of the morning greeted her as she stepped outside the tepee lodge. She inhaled quickly, the air heavy with the scent of smoke, of meat roasting, of pine trees and prairie grass. It smelled freshly sweet, clear and bracing. The invigorating scent even seemed to give her courage and she squared back her shoulders.

The earth felt solid beneath her footfalls as she trailed after Night Thunder, the grass soft for being so dry. She looked around quickly, taking note of her surroundings, something she hadn’t really done last night.

Above her and to the east, deep colors of pink, red, and blue spread out low to the horizon. To the west, snow-capped mountains rose dark and purple in the distance, their peaks a sharp contrast to the silver of an early morning sky. The spot where they had camped was sheltered in a grove of pine trees and cottonwoods, their tops looming over her. Ahead of her, Night Thunder strode forward to meet his comrades, his stride sure, unhesitant, as though he were every day in the habit of facing danger.

Perhaps he was.

She followed him at a more sedate distance. There was something unnerving about being the only woman in a camp full of warriors who had been on the warpath, even when those men no longer exhibited antagonism toward her.

There was no drumming in the camp this morning, though from somewhere not too distant, a low baritone voice sang an unusual melody, the rhythm of the words seeming to keep step with Night Thunder’s movements.

Night Thunder joined his people; she held back, not able to force herself to go in among them. To tell God’s truth, she suddenly wished, quite fervently, that she could shrink to perhaps a few inches tall, simply to disappear.

But such was not to be. Night Thunder had glanced back at her, motioning her to join him.

She gulped and forced herself to take one prolonged step after the other. Never had she known her footfalls could be so painfully sluggish. Even so, she wished she could move even slower. A warm wind suddenly swept into the camp, coming up from behind her, as though it, too, were conspiring against her, shoving her forward.

“
Oki,
come on,” Night Thunder said, motioning to her. “There is no one here that intends you any further harm,” he told her in English.

Wasn’t there? She wasn’t sure.

Still, somehow she made herself move, if only because Night Thunder expected her to. Never could she remember having to place her fate, her very life, into the hands of another being; never could she remember feeling more apprehensive.

She came up beside Night Thunder and he looked down at her. Suddenly he smiled. It was all he did; he didn’t place his arm around her, or hug her to him, as one might have expected him to if he were to instill her with confidence. But somehow his smile seemed enough.

She gave him back a shaky grin, then quickly gazed down at the ground again.

“
Nit-ik-oht-yaahs-i’taki k-ikkaa o’too-hs-yi.
”
It was an older voice speaking, and Rebecca glanced up to see the aged man from last night staring at her, smiling.

“He tells you that he is glad you have arrived,” Night Thunder translated.

Rebecca nodded, and in a quiet voice, she said, “Tell him thank you.”

“
Iniiyi’taki
,”
Night Thunder said.

“
Ikimopii
,”
the older man said to her, gesturing toward her, making motions to have her sit.

“He asks you to have a seat of honor,” again Night Thunder translated.

“Where?” Rebecca asked. “Here?”

Night Thunder nodded. “
Aa,
yes, sit here.”

Rebecca sat down, placing her knees to the side as she came to the ground.

Night Thunder squatted down beside her. “You did that well,” he said. “In our camp, the women sit with their knees placed, as you have done, while a man sits thusly.” He gestured toward himself where he sat, typically cross-legged.

At any other time, Rebecca would have responded to a compliment such as this one with a smile. But she was too nervous; it was all she could do not to shake.

Food was taken from the fire and passed to each warrior, then to her last. She didn’t care. She was too anxious to eat, too overwrought to feel hunger, though it had been almost a fortnight since she had last eaten. Perhaps longer.

“
Oowat
,”
said Night Thunder, “eat.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“You must,” he said. “It would be considered an insult if you did not, after the warriors have gone to much trouble to bring it to you, and it might cause bad feelings.”

“Please, I…I don’t think that I can.”

“
Aa,
yes, you can.”

She swallowed, the sound loud even to her, ears. Somehow, though, she found the courage to lift her head and glance around at the circle of men. Although no one watched her impolitely, she knew instinctively that all here were aware of her every movement.

She picked up a piece of meat. “What is this?” she asked Night Thunder.

“It is buffalo. Our warriors searched long this morning until they came upon a calf and his mother, I am told. You are being honored.”

“Aye,” she said, “so you have said to me.”

“Do you doubt it?”

“Please understand, Night Thunder, I cannot help it.”

A long pause followed her statement, Night Thunder apparently lost in thought.

At length, however, after some deliberation, he said, “Know that so long as I live, so long as I draw breath upon our mother the earth, no one here will harm you.”

She glanced at him quickly, but not fast enough. He had already turned his head away so that all she caught was a fleeting impression of what had been there in his eyes. She found herself staring at the man’s profile instead: strong, proud, his chin thrust slightly forward. She found him magnificent. He might be Indian, he might be someone she would never have thought a hero only a few weeks ago, but no mistake, this man emanated valor. Had he always? And if he had, how had it escaped her notice until now?

She reached out a hand to touch his arm, a gentle, soft caress. She knew to do so probably went against some Indian etiquette she had little knowledge of, but she couldn’t help herself.

She saw his body go rigid, felt the muscles of his arm stiffen, yet he made no attempt to remove her hand. In truth, what he did startled her all the more.

Turning his head slightly, staring down at her, he slowly brought up his own hand to cover hers, his action silently sealing a pact between them.

He had once given a friend his word of honor to watch over her. It was clear he would not renege on that promise. She gulped. The very decency of such an action, the strength he radiated, left her wondering if she had ever known anyone with such qualities.

She didn’t think so.

His integrity, the fortitude of his character, touched her beyond all thinking. And she felt tears well up behind her eyes. He instilled her with courage, this man.

She brought her gaze up once more, her look sweeping around the camp circle, and again, though no eyes were watching her, an air of expectancy hung over the men.

Would it hurt her to eat this meat, a sort of peace offering?

All of a sudden it struck her. These men were trying to show her in their own way that though they might have erred, they were sorry.

Their actions touched her. Most men of her acquaintance, even knowing they had lapsed from good conduct, would defend themselves as though they were beyond reproach. But not these men.

Which took the greater strength of will? To defend oneself, even when one was fully aware of having done wrong? Or, so knowing, to try to make things right? Which was the more civilized action?

She knew which it was and she felt almost numb with the knowledge. These people were supposed to be the savage ones. Hadn’t she heard that and been told that more times than she cared to think?

It was not a correct impression, however, she became suddenly aware. It was not correct at all.

It might appear silly, perhaps, but eating this piece of meat would symbolize her acceptance of their efforts to appease her. Was it too much to ask?

She sighed. It was difficult to acknowledge the integrity of these people after all that had happened to her.

She inhaled deeply once again and looked at the meat in her hand, which appeared as appetizing as a piece of shoe leather. Still, she put the food in her mouth, her own pride taking a steep blow as she did so.

She chewed, slowly at first, but then, as her stomach seemed to come alive, she ate with more vigor.

“Hmmm,” she said after a while, having taken several bites. “This is good.” And tentatively, shyly, she gave the party at large a brief smile, before glancing once again toward the ground. It was the best she could do.

Almost at once, she could feel the anxiety of the crowd begin to dissipate. And slowly a murmur of voices could be heard within the group as those around her relaxed.

It had been a hard thing to do, to begin to eat a meal with these people. But now that she had done it, she felt better for it.

At least, if they had been sorry, she had been forgiving.

Perhaps these people were not the villains she’d been told. Yet if they were not, why had they treated her so poorly at first? Did they have a good reason? She would have to ask Night Thunder about it as soon as she was able.

“
Aakahkayo’pa
.”
The older gentleman from the previous evening spoke to Night Thunder.

Night Thunder nodded.

“
Aakitapaoo’pa ookoowa kiistowaawa
,”
the old man said.

It was more a feeling than anything that caused her to become alert. Though he exhibited nothing outwardly to indicate he was uncomfortable, she was certain she sensed that something had been said to upset Night Thunder.

So she asked, “What did he say?”

Night Thunder didn’t answer her. Instead he said to the elderly man, “
Nitsawaahkayi.
”

“
Saa?
”

“
Saa.
”

“
Maak?
”

It was Night Thunder’s turn to respond, yet he remained silent.

“What are you talking about?” Rebecca whispered.

It took a moment, but at length Night Thunder answered, “He asks me if I had intended taking you to my village.”

“And you said?”

“No.”

“And?”

“He asks me now why it is not my intention to take you to my home, to my people.”

Rebecca caught her breath in a long, drawn-out hiss.

Night Thunder continued, speaking to the old man, “
Nit-aakita-poohpi-nnaan nitaakii miistsoyis.
”

The other man shook his head. “
Maak-saw-wa: hkayi sstaa-waatsiksi
?
Akaawayami’takiwa
?”

“
Maak
?”

“Night Thunder, what is it the both of you are saying?”

“He asks if you will not go home with me because you have taken too much offense at what was done to you.”

“Well, he does have a point, does he not?”

“If that is so, my brothers here will not leave until they feel their obligation to you is at an end.”

Rebecca gasped. “They won’t? What can I do?”

“I do not know. I am thinking.”

All at once the huge man who had first captured her leaped to his feet. And despite the fact that he had washed the paint from his face, the warrior still frightened Rebecca. He appeared contorted with rage, and it seemed all he could do to hold himself back, his body trembling with unexpressed rancor.

The elder of the tribe finally recognized him to speak.

“
Saayi-wa
!”
the dangerous man yelled, his tone harsh, his words clipped.