Proud Wolf's Woman (2 page)

Julia shook her head as though to clear her thoughts just as Tahiska jumped down from his pony. His movement reclaimed her attention. Tahiska strode toward Kristina without a moment’s hesitation, and Julia noted that he didn’t smile at Kristina nor did he need to; his intention was clear.

“I have missed you,” he said to Kristina, while Julia translated his words to herself, for Tahiska spoke to his wife in the language of the Lakota. Having spent the last few months accompanying Kristina in her clandestine meetings with this brave, Julia had come to understand the foreign language nearly as well as Kristina. Julia hadn’t intended to learn the language—she hadn’t intended to learn anything about the Indians. She had, however, discovered much. She had learned about nature, the earth, about honor and friendship; about a delicate, new love, fragile in its beginnings… “When I left you before, my wife, I left you with harsh words,” Tahiska’s voice broke into Julia’s thoughts. “I forgot that without you, I would have no sunshine. I lied, Kristina. I could no more walk away from you than I could take my own life. I wish to spend the rest of my life with you. Now, here before all, will you be my wife?” He held out his hand to Kristina, palm up.

Julia shivered. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. They loved so well, it was as though they had loved all their lives. She shut her eyes. How she wished…

Julia flicked her eyes open. She couldn’t dwell on these thoughts. She might admire Kristina, she might feel a burgeoning affection toward one of the Indians, herself, but she could never let herself harbor more than a fleeting thought of it. She could never live an Indian life. Never.

Still…

Julia stared at Tahiska’s open hand, stretched out toward Kristina. And Julia knew the significance of this gesture, knew that if Kristina placed her hand in Tahiska’s, the two of them, by Indian custom, were married. Julia sighed and, for a moment, just a flicker of time, she allowed herself the luxury of wondering what it would be like to have someone love her as this; to love beyond the restraint of culture, of worldly possessions, of censorship. She cast a surreptitious glance once again to the side, to one Indian, to Neeheeowee. Quickly she looked away.

She could not allow herself to think of it…to think of
him.
As though to cure herself, Julia tried to conjure up images of Kenneth, her fiancé, attempting to imagine the strength of Kenneth’s embrace, Kenneth’s love. But it was useless. With a show of sudden insight Julia knew that such a love could never exist between herself and the soldier. Where, then, would she find such a love?

Unbidden, again, the image of a tall Cheyenne warrior filled her thoughts. Her friend. Neeheeowee.

She groaned.

Shaking her head, Julia tried to sweep the thought from her mind. It could not be. She would not let it.

“I will love you all my life,” she heard Kristina’s words to Tahiska, spoken in English, and Julia glanced around, noting the disdainful glares, the looks of recrimination on the pale faces that had heard those words. And then her friend placed her hand in Tahiska’s, saying, “I, too, wish to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Kristina!”

Julia heard Kristina’s mother, realizing that Kristina, herself, had blocked out the sound, saw that Kristina heard only her husband’s laughter.

“Kristina, no!”

Soldiers, youngsters, women swarmed around the group of horses and Indians, trying to see and to hear the goings-on, and Julia noted that Major Bogard, Kristina’s father, joined his wife in the crowd, taking a hard stand beside the woman, effectively holding his wife back.

Julia turned her attention to Kristina and Tahiska once more and, seeing them, Julia swooned with the depth of their emotion.

Hand in hand the couple stared at one another as if no one else in the world existed, and perhaps, for them, no one else did.

Then Tahiska picked Kristina up, swinging her around and around, the gesture at odds with Tahiska’s normal stoic, Indian poise. And there, before everyone, white and Indian, he kissed her. Soundly, sweetly, a kiss of devotion.

“I will get my things,” Kristina said at last.

“No, come! There is nothing here for you now. I will provide for you all that you need.” Tahiska stared at his wife, the smile disappearing. “Come, it is time we went home.”

Without releasing her hand, Tahiska led Kristina to his pony, and, jumping onto it, bent down toward his wife, sweeping Kristina up onto his horse. He placed the reins of two ponies he led behind him into Kristina’s hand. “A wedding present,” Julia heard him whisper to Kristina in Lakota.

Margaret Bogard screamed out a protest, but her husband, Major Bogard, supporting her weight against him, helped her to the side of the crowd.

“I love you with all my heart, Kristina,” Tahiska murmured, ignoring the dramatics occurring all around them. “I have thought of you constantly since I left here. I would have been here sooner, but I needed these horses to win your father’s approval and to show him my intentions. I will no longer have my intentions questioned. I wish no trouble, but it is time that I bring my wife home.”

Kristina beamed, oblivious to the bystanders.

But Julia saw that Tahiska’s gaze searched through the crowd, narrowing on Major Bogard, who strode toward the young couple. The major appeared neither shocked nor pleased by the proceedings. In the language of sign, the major asked of the Indian, “My friend, what is the meaning of all these horses?”

Tahiska released his hold on his wife, but only for a moment.

He smiled at the major. “I once asked for your daughter in marriage,” he gestured back in his native language. “But you did not understand then. Let there no longer be any misunderstandings between us. I love your daughter with all my heart. These ponies—they are for you. I would live with your daughter, protect and care for her all my life.”

Julia gazed at the two men who stared at one another, the Indian’s glance proud, the major’s…

Surely Kristina’s father would give them permission to marry. And though this might seem strange to a bystander, that the major should condone such a union, Julia couldn’t imagine it otherwise. Hadn’t Tahiska saved the major’s life? Hadn’t the two men become friends? Hadn’t the major shown that he considered the Indian honorable and brave without fault? Surely Major Bogard didn’t harbor prejudice…surely…

Suddenly Kristina’s father smiled, extending his hand to the young brave. “Welcome to the family, son.”

A multitude of emotions flickered across Tahiska’s face while Julia breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted happiness for her friend and Julia was certain that Kristina would not find happiness with anyone other than Tahiska.

The Indian took the major’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically.

“Kristina.” Julia moved forward, touching Kristina’s shoulder. “You’ll be leaving now?”

Kristina grinned. “Yes.”

Julia simply nodded, refusing to give way to the emotion she felt. “I will miss you,” she said as an understatement. “But wait a moment, before you leave. I have something for you. Will you wait?” She asked the question in Lakota, looking toward Tahiska.

“Hau,
yes.” He nodded toward her, then said in English, “But hurry.”

All this time, except for a few surreptitious glances, Julia hadn’t really observed Neeheeowee. All this time she wondered if
he
would leave her without saying good-bye to
her.
Would she see
him
again, this man who had once saved her life, this man who, though as doubtful of her as she had been of him, had treated her with kindness and with honor, with affection…?

She couldn’t think of it. She couldn’t consider such things. He was Indian. She was white. And these things mattered to
her,
to
him.

Stifling a sob, Julia turned and fled to her room and, once there, she ran straight to her vanity and opened a drawer.

She
could not have him.
He
could never take her with him, but Julia had determined that
he
would not forget her; she knew he would try, just as she knew that she, too, would attempt to erase his memory.

She grabbed the presents she had made, the gifts, and rushed back outside, fearing the Indians might not wait if she took a moment longer.

But they still waited, sitting before her proudly, fiercely, each one directing their attention upon
her.

She didn’t gaze back at them, she didn’t dare. Approaching Kristina, she kept her eyes focused on the ground until she reached her friend. Once there she glanced up toward Kristina, handing her friend two intricately beaded necklaces, gifts inspired by the beauty and honor of Indian craft.

“The necklaces,” Julia murmured toward Kristina, “are for my two friends, Wahtapah and Neeheeowee, the one beaded in blue, with the red heart, is for Neeheeowee,” she whispered. “I’m afraid I lack the courage to give these gifts to the men myself. I am asking you to do this for me, Kristina. And these”—she handed Kristina two rings, each made of silver—“these are for you and Tahiska. I noticed neither one of you have a ring to proclaim your marriage.” And from somewhere Julia found the strength to smile up at Kristina. “I will miss you.” Her voice caught in her throat.

Kristina took her friend’s hand in her own. “Always,” Kristina said, “we will be friends.”

Julia was only able to flash Kristina a slight smile, and then, with a quick glance toward the other Indians, particularly toward the one Indian, Neeheeowee, Julia pivoted around, fleeing back to the sanctuary of her room.

So caught up was she in her emotions, Julia didn’t see a sullen Neeheeowee watch her departure from him, every step of the way.

No, all Julia heard were the joyful whoops, the happy laughter, as her best friend, Kristina, with her Indian husband, Tahiska, and his two Indian friends, galloped out of the fort, out of her life.

Julia, turning momentarily to her bedroom window to watch them go, wished that once, just once, she could ignore the restraints of her culture, of her upbringing, to follow her heart. She shut her eyes, little knowing that at that same moment Neeheeowee, the young Cheyenne warrior who so disturbed her thoughts, wondered grudgingly if
he
might be able to ignore
his.

Suddenly the young Cheyenne broke free of the others, racing back toward the fort. He stopped at the gates, turning his pony in circles, gazing back at
her
house,
her
room,
her
window. And Julia at that same moment opened her eyes.

Their gazes met across the distance—the Cheyenne warrior’s fiery and proud; hers curious, yet uncertain.

What did he want?

Her heart cried out to him.

Did he want her? Should she run to him to see?

Though a part of her begged her to do just that, she couldn’t.

She sobbed, instead; she cried, but she did not otherwise attempt to leave her room.

She held his gaze, heard his war whoops, saw him gesture toward her with his spear until, with one final look, he spurred his pony around, and, yelping and hollering, raced away to join his friends.

Julia wondered, as she watched him go, if she cried for the loss of her friend, Kristina, or for the loss of another…

Well, it little mattered now.

Julia drew a deep, unsteady breath.

She had done the right thing, as had he. What was between them, she and Neeheeowee, could not be. Not for her. Not for him.

Not now and certainly not in the future.

As she ran across the room to fling herself across her bed, Julia became aware that the thought was oddly depressing.

Chapter One

Seven and one-half years later

The Arkansas River Area

Southern Kansas

May 1841

Spring had descended upon the land. The prairie was awash with the beauty of purple, blue, and yellow wildflowers while the scent of those same effusive blooms filled the air. The sun shone down, gentle and golden this day and its welcome warmth took away the slight chill in the morning air.

It was a perfect beginning to the day, a gorgeous day, whose beauty defied the somber mood of the few occupants who rested on this open stretch of prairie. Still, the young woman with dark brown hair and mysterious, hazel eyes smiled as she loosened her shawl and glanced around her.

Ah, the prairie in the spring.
Was there any place on earth as beautiful?

Her gaze roved over the gently sloping hills straight to the horizon, where land met sky in splendid profusion of brilliant azure, spring green, and shades of golden brown. She reveled in the feel of the ever-present prairie wind which blew over her, ruffling her hair and her bonnet, the air warm and fresh upon her cheeks. Wisps of dark brown hair loosened from her coiffure to blow back against the yellow of her bonnet, but the young woman, with a delicate, pale complexion and pink, rosy lips didn’t notice. Instead she raised her face to that breeze and inhaled deeply, enjoying, if only for a moment, the luscious beginnings to the day.

She hadn’t noticed these past few weeks that the rains had brought such beauty to the prairie. But then, why should she? She’d been too busy, too intent with her work at the Colbys’, with Mr. Colby’s Indian wife, who had delivered twins, to pay much attention to her environment. But she did so now, and not even the sounds of the disgruntled men who followed behind, nor the unsavory scents of horseflesh and sweat could daunt her enthusiasm.

She glanced back at the company of soldiers, who sat upon their mounts in two neat rows behind her. Dragoons, they called them. Dragoons because during the Middle Ages, mounted soldiers had worn a dragon crest emblazoned on their helmets. Dragoons now because these men here fought their wars on horseback. There were about twenty men in this regiment of soldiers, all of them under the command of her husband, who, too, remained mounted, although the entire company sat stationary.

The young woman glanced at the sun and, noting its position, realized the company had been stalled here, along this lonesome stretch of prairie, for almost an hour, an hour during which they had all remained in the saddle, herself as well as the dragoons, munching on a breakfast of dried jerky and water.