Scars of the Heart (17 page)

“Car-ly.” Summer Song watched their reactions, then repeated her new word. “Car-ly.” This time, she smiled broadly and added a Pawnee phrase before scampering away.

Carly looked to Little Bird for the translation.

“She said, ‘Thank you for pushing me, my special friend.’”

“Little Bird, I don’t care about going. And I certainly don’t want to be honored.” Carly repeated the arguments for the fifth time. She made no more progress now than she had a half hour ago. The Pawnee woman had helped Carly dress. She tied a soft hide sling around Carly’s neck to support her arm. She sighed deeply as she finished combing the tangles from Carly’s shoulder-length hair.

“If I thought your injury kept you in the furs, I would not mind leaving you behind. Why do you wish to be alone? Do you not enjoy good food, laughter, dancing?”

Carly lowered her eyes. She did indeed enjoy all those things. How could she tell this strange woman that back in Virginia, she had been the belle of the ball? She’d had to choose not only between parties planned for the same evenings but beaus who’d offered to escort her. Back in Virginia, grand galas had filled Carly’s weekly calendar. But this was not Virginia.

Little Bird seemed to sense at least part of Carly’s hesitation.

“I know this is not the life of your fathers and their fathers before them, but it is a good life and all that we can offer you. You must learn to enjoy each new sunrise. Those who look after the setting sun for too long will soon only see blackness.”

Both women sat quietly for several minutes. A breeze blew in under the skirt of the tepee, which had been raised two feet and tied to the poles for just that purpose. It felt cool and soothing, promising a pleasant evening for the feast.

Little Bird finally rose to her feet, gently pulling on Carly’s good arm. “Come. At least long enough to feed yourself. Then, if you still wish, you can come back to the tepee . . . alone.”

Once outside, the woman led Carly through throngs of people. Men squatted in small groups, laughing and rolling dice made of buffalo bones. Little Bird talked comfortably as they walked.

“This is our season for rest. The men like to gamble. The women like to gossip. Our summer hunt was successful. We have much meat and will return home soon to harvest the vegetables for the winter.”

“But I assumed this was your home.”

“No. We come this way each year, after spring planting, in search of the buffalo.” Little Bird grew solemn for a moment. “The herds grow smaller and smaller. Some say the buffalo will all be gone one day. I used to laugh at them, for I remember the first time I saw the great herd spread across the land, reaching farther than my eyes could see. But now, with the coming of the white man . . .”

She glanced up suddenly, aware she may have offended her new friend. Carly smiled reassuringly at the woman. She’d listened to men brag of butchering the mighty animals for their hides and tongues, leaving large numbers to rot in the harsh summer sun.

The Pawnee valued the buffalo, indeed, depended on it for much of their existence and used almost every scrap. Thanks to Little Bird’s tendency to chatter, Carly realized she had learned a lot about these people in the past few days.

Buffalo skins provided robes, drums, blankets, and tepees. Hides were softened by rubbing with a mixture of brain and fat, which Carly found interesting but had yet to force herself to attempt. Leg tendons became thread and bowstrings. The hair was braided into rope, rolled into balls for games, and used to stuff cradle boards, pillows, and moccasins. Spoons, tools, and drinking cups were once horns. The women collected dried buffalo chips as fire fuel. Rawhide strips became rope. Wet pieces were stretched over stone heads to fasten to war clubs and around flint points to attach to arrow shafts.

The resourcefulness of these people impressed Carly. She found the slaughter and disregard as distasteful as Little Bird seemed to. They continued their casual stroll around the village. “So, you have two camps?”

“No. The tepees become travois. We pack everything——and journey home when Tirawa Atius tells us to.”

“Tirawa Atius? Is he another chief?”

Little Bird giggled. “Not a chief . . . the Great Spirit. He reveals himself to us in the stars at the time of falling leaves, and we go to gather the crops.”

The women stopped, and Little Bird introduced Carly to several older girls. They eyed her with curiosity and uncertainty, but each smiled shyly. Carly returned the gesture, though she couldn’t understand or pronounce the names by which Little Bird called them.

“So, where is your home? Is it far?”

“It is many days’ journey to the north. We have to come farther each season to find the herds. Our life there is good. I am always happy to return to our lodges.”

They had traveled full circle and found themselves back at their tepee. An older woman passed them carrying a large bowl of fruit. Little Bird grabbed a handful of sweet berries and received a scolding in mock severity. The pair moved on to sit beneath a shady tree.

“Do you not live in the tepees once you return home?” Carly took an offered berry.

“They are too cold for the winters there. Our lodges are sturdy, made with heavy poles, long grass, and dirt. The fire keeps them warm. They are fashioned like the sky.” Little Bird moved her arm in an arc to indicate the dome shape and popped the last of the berries into her mouth.

“How many lodges are there in your village?” Carly found she suddenly had dozens of questions about this strange way of life.

“Eight. We are a small tribe.”

“Eight? But, Little Bird, there must be three hundred Pawnee here.” Carly glanced at the many people surrounding them, realizing she’d never seen them all assembled at once, except at the funeral, and she’d been too frightened to notice very much then.

“Yes. Our lodges are quite large. As many as, um, I think you say, forty people live in a lodge. Some families also bring in their favorite dogs and horses.”

“Horses! Inside? With people? I can’t believe that!” Carly remembered her mother’s expression when she caught her six-year-old daughter hiding a kitten in her bedroom. She’d ordered the animal to be deposited outside and scrubbed the entire room, twice. Carly allowed a giggle to bubble up, and, at Little Bird’s urging, she shared that story and then several others from her childhood.

“At last,” exclaimed Little Bird, rising to her feet. “We can eat now. The men have come out of their council. My stomach complains loudly. Come, Carly—I will introduce you to my uncle.”

Carly suddenly felt nervous. She’d had no contact with most of the tribe members. Other than Little Bird and the children, only a few women had approached Carly, and then it was simply to indicate they wished her to perform some task.

Despite her curiosity, she hadn’t paid much attention to the others, especially the men. They walked around nearly naked, with only a thin piece of hide drawn up between their legs and belted at their waists. Carly still blushed clear to her honey-colored roots when she dared to watch one, even for a second. Besides, these people made it a point not to stare at her, though she was surely an oddity among them. She got the feeling they found such blatant observation insulting or, at the very least, rude.

Before Carly could gather her wits, Little Bird had dragged her to stand before several men with stern expressions. Carly focused on the one she knew to be the chief, Black Hawk. And to her dismay, he in turn focused on her.

The name suited him. His nose bent like a hawk’s beak. His eyes were the blackest black and so intense Carly fought the urge to look away. His head had been scraped free of hair save for a section on top that stood straight up, longer in front than at the crown. His face was also free of hair, including eyebrows. He wore many adornments in both ears—feathers, beads, colored rocks, even silver. In addition to his loincloth and moccasins, the chief had donned a highly decorated vest with fringe trimming. He loomed so large before her, she shivered.

Little Bird spoke softly to him, indicating Carly with a nod of her head. After a barely audible grunt from the imposing chief, the woman continued in English.

“Carly, this is my uncle, Windwalker. He—”

“Windwalker?” Confused, Carly turned her attention from the leader to Little Bird. “I thought you called him Black Hawk. If he’s Windwalker, then who is this Black Hawk you keep referring to?”

Little Bird’s brows drew together to mirror Carly’s confusion. She opened her mouth to answer, but a low, deep voice behind them stopped her.

“I am who she refers to, Carly. I am Black Hawk.”

Carly spun around to identify the speaker. “Kade! You’re alive!”

“Very much so.” He turned his quizzical expression from her to the others, seeking the source of her confusion.

“But I was there. I saw you. I watched them set fire to your body and . . .” Carly shook her head, wondering if she had been sleeping and dreamed the entire thing. Perhaps she was sleeping even now. That was it. She and Kade were still in the cave. She would awaken and find him well and strong and ready to take her to Marshall. They would—

Kade’s baritone laughter broke through her stream of thoughts. She looked up at him to see light dancing in his black eyes.

“That wasn’t my funeral. It was Red Wolf, a man many years older. He had the long death, a growth in his throat. Why did you think that was me? Didn’t Little Bird tell you I was alive? Didn’t she tell you I sent her to befriend you and that I’d been by to check on you?”

His questioning gaze darted to the smaller woman. She seemed just as bewildered as he did and turned to Carly for answers.

“Well, yes, but, no, not really. Your stallion carried the body, and I couldn’t find you, and they didn’t answer when I asked about you. They kept referring to Black Hawk, but I didn’t know—”

His rich laughter interrupted her once again.

Her confusion gave way to her temper. Hot blood rushed to her cheeks. “Just what about this do you find humorous?”

“I’m sorry, Carly.” He brought his outburst under control but couldn’t quite erase the smile from his face. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I’ll just bet you were fit to be tied. I bet you were ready to kill me yourself for leaving you alone with all these
savages
.” His laughter threatened to bubble again.

Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I thought you were dead, Kade! I thought you were dead, and it was my fault. Why I spent even one minute grieving your loathsome soul I’ll never understand. I wish I
could
kill you myself. I’d do it now. Right here and now!”

She wiped angrily at salty tears. Perplexed faces blended together in a human barricade surrounding them. Kade’s amusement died. No one moved or spoke, each waiting, each watching. Carly could endure no more. As a fresh batch of tears welled forth, she broke through the crowd and ran.

Kade stared after the fleeing form. Could it be possible Carly’s emotional display stemmed more from her concern for him than for herself?

He offered an inadequate explanation to the bewildered people around him. Little Bird looked as if she, too, might cry. With a slight nod from his uncle, Kade hurried after Carly.

Thanks to his expert tracking skills and her soft sobs, he found her in no time. He hesitated, painfully aware his insensitive bumbling had caused this situation in the first place and completely unsure what to do or say to correct it. Running his hands through his hair, he resisted the urge to pace, afraid the noise would startle her and send her running once more. After several seconds, when no feasible plan formed, Kade started to turn and go back to camp. Carly’s quiet crying snaked around him, pulling him nearer.

“Carly?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice but refused to face him. Slim shoulders shuddered as she drew a deep breath and swiped at her tears.

“I’m sorry. It was barbaric of me to laugh. I should’ve realized how scared you were, not being able to communicate, thinking I’d died and left you alone. Carly? Look at me. Can you forgive me?” He touched her shoulder. She flinched but didn’t pull away. Encouraged, he turned her to face him.

Pale-green eyes swam in pools of tears. A pain pierced Kade’s heart. A pain he’d only felt on one other occasion—the death of his mother. A pain he’d sworn to never feel again. To accomplish that, Kade had successfully treated emotions like a den of rattlesnakes, circling wide to keep a respectful distance. That is, until now.

They stared at each other a long time, or perhaps only a moment. He couldn’t be sure. But he knew the very instant that Carly’s strength returned to claim its rightful place within her. Her eyes deepened a shade or two, and her shoulders squared.

“I’m acting like a child. It is I who should be asking your forgiveness. I don’t know what’s come over me. Perhaps it’s this knot on my head.” She wiped away the last of the tears with swift, sure hands.

“Perhaps.” Kade knew to argue with her would be to upset this balance they’d found. “It can take a body a while to recover from such a blow.” Not to mention kidnapping, rape, and any number of other horrors this fragile creature had been subjected to.

“I truly am sorry.” He wanted to take her small hand in his own, to comfort her somehow. He’d had no practice at such things. He’d never had the urge to comfort anyone or anyone to practice on. What was it about this little ragamuffin that tugged at his heart?

“No, really. I apologize. I made quite a scene back there, probably embarrassed you in front of your family and friends.” Carly covered her face with her palms.

Kade lowered her hands gently. “You’re a hero, you know. You saved my life. And I saw what you did for Summer Song. That was very brave.” His fingers grazed the lump on her forehead. “Does it hurt much?”

“No,” she said.

Carly looked down quickly, seeming nervous. Kade wondered if he’d done something else wrong. When she raised her gaze to meet his once more, he felt a little jittery himself. Something in the deep pools of emerald held him mesmerized. They seemed to pull at the very core of him. He was actually drifting forward when he shook himself and retreated a few steps.