Savage Courage (11 page)

Fortunately, she had managed to remain conscious long enough to help in her rescue.

Forgetting the soldiers down below and even the panther, Storm swept Shoshana up into his arms and carried her away from the edge of the cliff. He laid her down on the path where they had been riding.

The moon’s glow provided enough light for him to inspect the wound on her brow more carefully. It was a nasty lump, oozing blood.

He tried to get her awake. But she didn’t respond.

Afraid to leave her for long, with the panther still nearby, yet wanting to find an herb that his people used for restoring consciousness, Storm went into the edge of the thicket a few feet away and searched until he found what he was looking for.

With the hope of arousing her, he took the plant back to her. Slowly, he waved it back and forth beneath her nose.

To his utter disappointment, it didn’t work. She was still unconscious.

Deciding to forget about the panther for now, so that he could take Shoshana to his stronghold where the shaman could see to her wound, Storm hurried away from her and tied her horse’s reins to his own, thankful that the animal had settled down and not run off.

Before getting Shoshana, Storm checked the wolf pup and found that it was in a deep sleep. He lifted and carried Shoshana to his horse, soon having her positioned on his lap as he settled himself in the saddle.

He rode onward.

He was disappointed that he had lost the chance to finally kill the deadly panther; he had also given up the opportunity to finally stop the evil of the scalp hunter.

But there would come another time for both. He was more concerned about Shoshana now than anything else.

He was worried that she was still unconscious. He hoped that once he got her in the hands of his shaman, the medicine man would know how to revive her.

He saw the wolf pup stirring in the bag. He reached a hand down and stroked its wiry fur. “You will be all right,” he reassured it. “But you must learn to live without your mother. Do not fear, I will protect you. No man will ever get near enough to harm you!”

With Shoshana’s horse trailing behind his, Storm rode onward up an even narrower pass, past a series of waterfalls that cut through ponderosa pine and aspen.

As the night wore on, clouds marred the face of the moon, and lightning played among the mountain
peaks. Soon thunder heralded the arrival of a black-walled rainstorm.

Almost blinded by the rain, and deafened by hailstones ringing on the rocks, rocketing about in all directions, Storm trundled down to safety, to a cave where he had found dry shelter many times before.

He secured the horses just inside the cave entrance, hung his bag with the wolf pup in it over his left arm, then carried Shoshana to the back of the cave where he had left equipment, blankets, and wood for fires.

Storm set down the bag with the wolf pup, glad that it had slept through the storm and rain, protected by the lid of the buckskin bag.

It still slept soundly, and Shoshana was still unconscious.

Storm made Shoshana as comfortable as possible in her wet clothes on blankets, then built a fire, the smoke escaping through a fissure in the cave’s ceiling.

Storm made another pallet of blankets and carried Shoshana to them so she could be closer to the fire. He knew it was best that her clothes dry quickly to keep her from getting chilled.

He sat down beside her, already feeling the warmth of the fire through his own wet attire. He wanted the warmth of a blanket around his shoulders, but knew that he must endure the wet coldness for a while longer in order to get his clothes dry.

He checked the bag and saw that the wolf pup was still sleeping soundly. Then he looked again at Shoshana, his heart skipping an anxious beat when he saw her stir, and then awaken.

Shoshana raised herself up on an elbow.

She looked slowly around her, but she had such a terrible headache that everything she saw was a fuzzy blur.

But she knew she was beside a fire. She felt its warmth against her flesh.

“How are you?” Storm asked, kneeling down beside her.

Shoshana recognized the voice as Storm’s, then gazed up at him. “My head aches so,” she murmured, reaching a hand to her forehead, wincing when she felt just how large the lump there was.

She squinted as she again tried to focus on Storm, then looked slowly around her. “Where are we?” she murmured. “I see you . . . and everything else . . . as only a blur.”

“When you fell from the horse you hit your forehead,” Storm softly explained. “After it began to rain, I brought you to the safety of this cave. Once the storm passes by, we will resume our travel to my stronghold. When we arrive, my shaman, White Moon, will care for you. Soon you will be well.”

“I . . . I . . . feel ill,” Shoshana murmured, tasting a strange bitterness in her mouth.

“Sometimes one does feel that way after a blow to the head,” Storm said softly. “
Ish-tia-nay
, close your eyes. Rest. Soon you will be at my stronghold in the care of my shaman.”

“Thank you. . . .” Shoshana murmured as she slowly drifted off to sleep again.

Storm sat down beside her.

He studied her as she slept.

He had never seen such a beautiful woman.

He wondered what her life had been like while she had lived among whites. She had been raised by a man who had the blood of many Apache on his hands. Had Shoshana possibly caused this man to change for the better?

The man was in the area to help find the scalp hunter who was the enemy of all Apache. Why would the wooden-legged man care enough about the scalp hunter’s evil to help track him down?

Guilt for his past sins against the Apache? Was he trying to atone for those sins?

Well, none of that meant anything to Storm. He would still take his vengeance. He would still make the wooden-legged man pay!

He gazed at Shoshana again.
Ho
, her absence would cause the wooden-legged man much distress.

When Shoshana knew of Storm’s plans to take vengeance against George Whaley, how would she react? Would she care?

He ran a finger softly across her lips. They were
made to be kissed. She was born to be loved, and not by
pindah-lickoyee
, but by an Apache!

He knew that even if it stopped raining soon, he should not move Shoshana until tomorrow. He must give the mountain pass time to dry, otherwise it would be too slippery for travel, and there was always the chance of a mud slide.

Yes, he would take Shoshana then, and she would be well soon.

Ah, finally he had found a woman who made him want more than to be the protector of his people. With every beat of his heart he wanted to protect Shoshana.

She had been apart from her true people long enough.

He wondered about Shoshana’s Apache mother. Could she have survived that ambush even as Shoshana’s dreams had revealed to her? Might she even be among the older women at his own stronghold? Had her mother been among those who had been found wandering alone through the years and brought to safety to live among his people?

If so, and Shoshana could find her among the many older women, would Shoshana be content to remain with him? Would she be happy to live with her mother again, and allow him to court her?

“I will make it so,” he whispered.

Smiling, he stretched out on a blanket beside Shoshana.

He was still smiling when he drifted off to sleep, Shoshana’s beautiful face and sweet voice filling his dreams.

He awakened with a start when his sister’s face came to him in his dreams, and he remembered the warnings she had given him about the woman he would meet.

He gazed at Shoshana. Was this the woman of his sister’s dreams?

If so, what did they truly mean?

To lose thee were to lose myself.

—John Milton

The next morning, after Storm felt that it was dry enough along the mountain pass, he left the cave with Shoshana, again holding her on the horse with him. She was still too dizzy and sleepy to ride by herself.

Storm gazed down at her, snuggled contentedly against his chest. It was as though she belonged there. He felt attached to her even though he knew that when she was awake and able to understand that she was no longer free to leave his stronghold when she wanted to, she would probably hate him.

When the stronghold was only a short distance
away, Storm sent up a signal of his nearness, imitating the howl of a coyote.

The same type of howl came to him in response; his sentries were aware that their chief, not an enemy, was approaching.

He had to smile when he heard a small howl come from the bag at the side of his horse; the gray wolf pup had heard the mock coyote sounds.

“You are aware, that is good,” Storm said, reaching to flip back the cover so that the pup could see things around him.

Up until now, he had mostly slept.

The pup’s blue eyes gazed trustingly up at Storm; then the tiny thing gave what sounded like a bark.

“You soon will be at my stronghold and fed something nourishing,” Storm said, reaching a hand to the wolf’s gray, wiry fur and stroking it. “Gray Wolf, when you are fully grown and have the strength of an adult, you will be sent out to find those who are kin to you. You will mate one day, Gray Wolf.”

The sound of an approaching horse drew Storm’s attention from the wolf. He smiled and waved when he saw one of his favored warriors riding toward him.

Four Wings returned the wave, then drew rein beside Storm. He looked questioningly at the woman, and the wolf pup.

“I will explain later how I have the woman with me, and the pup,” Storm said calmly. “Ride ahead,
Four Wings, and alert White Moon that I am bringing an injured woman to him. Tell him that the woman received a hard blow to her brow and she cannot stay awake for any long period of time.”

“I shall do this for you,” Four Wings replied. He wheeled his horse around and rode back in the direction of the stronghold.

Storm made his way through a canyon, a rough, rocky, and very dangerous defile, and then arrived at his stronghold, where there were a mixture of homes built for his people.

There were many tepees made of buffalo skins tanned white.

There were also some circular wickiups, built from saplings and brush. Ordinarily four or five of these shelters were built in close proximity to each other.

“Storm!”

Storm saw his sister leave her tepee and run toward him. She stopped abruptly when she noticed the woman on his horse with him. She stood stiffly as Storm rode onward, then drew rein beside her.

When Dancing Willow saw the face of the woman, she gasped, then looked questioningly up at Storm. “This is the very
ish-tia-nay
that I have seen in the stars . . . in my dreams and visions,” she said ominously. “This is the woman that I warned you about, Storm.”

Dancing Willow folded her arms angrily across
her chest as she glowered up at Storm. “You have just brought trouble into our people’s lives by bringing this woman here,” she scolded. “Why did you bring her? Did you not recall my warning?”

“I found this woman being held prisoner,” Storm said, his eyes meeting and locking with his sister’s. “While her captor, Mountain Jack, was gone, I released her. It was my decision to bring her to our stronghold. She will bring satisfaction into my life, not trouble to our people.”

“Satisfaction?” Dancing Willow said, her dark eyes widening. She ignored the people mulling around them, watching and listening. “It is not like you to think of . . . ‘satisfaction’ . . . instead of what is right for our band.”

Knowing what must be said to make his sister understand, yet not wanting Shoshana to hear their dialogue, he gazed down at Shoshana.

He studied her eyes to see whether there was movement behind the closed lids. When he saw no signs of movement, Storm felt that it was safe to speak freely.

His sister had one trait that rankled him more often than not. Although he was a proud chief, his older sister had a tendency to speak up and argue when she should only listen.

He had forgiven her this weakness, for she had never done anything to hurt him, although sometimes
she had embarrassed him. She did seem to forget that he was chief, and she only a sister!

In time surely she would realize that it was best not to enter into these arguments with him, especially while their people were listening.

“You misinterpret the word ‘satisfaction’ and how I use it today,” Storm said, keeping his voice as quiet as possible since he did not want Shoshana to awaken at this moment.

He tried to control the anger that was rising within him at the way his sister openly questioned him.

“I do not care how I misinterpreted anything,” Dancing Willow snapped back at him, then realized that she was treading on thin ice with her brother by questioning him in front of their people.

“My chief, my big brother,” she said more softly and respectfully. “It does not matter who this woman is, or why you feel the need to bring her to our stronghold. You must take her away while she is still unconscious and is not aware of where our stronghold is.”

“Big sister, do you not want the same vengeance that I want, the vengeance we have talked about so often since the deaths of our parents and people?” Storm said, controlling his anger and frustration. “When she was only five winters of age, this woman was taken from her people and raised by the wooden-legged man who brought so much sadness
and heartache to our people those many moons ago. Our very own father shot an arrow into this white man’s leg. By taking this woman whom the wooden-legged man has raised as a daughter, we will be shooting an arrow into his heart. We must keep her at the stronghold. We must deny this man the opportunity to ever see or hold this woman again!”

“But, brother—”

“Listen and do not question what I have done and plan to do,” Storm said tightly. “This woman is here to stay. Finally, you and I, and our people as well, will achieve a measure of vengeance. I would rather do this than kill the wooden-legged man. It will be good that he suffers, alive. Death comes too quickly and ends sufferings, especially sufferings of the heart. And if I should kill George Whaley, who was once a powerful colonel, it would anger the United States Government so much, those in charge would send out the cavalry to search until they finally found our stronghold. We would all be doomed then. Under my plan, the colonel will be made to pay for the wrongs done to our people. He will never know if his daughter is alive or dead. That alone will make his heart ache as it has probably never ached before.”