Silken Savage (20 page)

Far enough south not to be bothered by the soldiers, the Cheyenne women of Black Kettle’s tribe felt safe enough to plant their crops. All summer they tended their plants and children under the hot Texas sun.

Early June brought the wedding of Winter Bear and Shy Deer, which had been postponed until now. Between raids, the newly-wedded lovers grabbed every second they could get to be alone together. By summer’s end, Shy Deer was already expecting their first child.

Their tribes stayed on at Bitter Water through September, giving the women plenty of time to harvest their crops. Periodically, between raids, the men would organize a hunt, but it was nothing like the hunts they had been on the previous summer. It promised to be a lean winter, unless the weather held.

Hunter grew by leaps and bounds. A sweet- tempered baby, he was constantly smiling and cooing. That summer, as small as he was, Tanya taught him to swim in the shallows of the river. He seemed to do everything at an early age. He was sitting at five months old, and cut two pearly front teeth about the same time. At six months, he was jabbering his very first words, not calling for his mother or father, but for Kit and Kat. By mid September he was crawling, and getting into everything. Tanya swore she had everything imaginable hung from the walls and poles of the tipi out of his reach.

Everything his chubby little hands could grasp went into his mouth, including the cubs’ tails. The only time he was still was in his sleep, and Tanya would kneel for ages over his cradle gazing at his cherubic face with its chunky, rosy cheeks and small red bow-shaped mouth. Awake, he played for hours on end with the toys Panther had carved for him, his golden eyes sparkling with delight.

With Panther gone so much that summer, Hunter was Tanya’s joy. He never lacked for attention but neither did he seem to become spoiled by it. Black Kettle and Woman-To-Be-Hereafter adored him. Walks-Like-A-Duck and Shy Deer were always willing to take him off of Tanya’s hands for a few hours, and Melissa doted on him like a second mother. As much love and affection as he received and gave to the others, Tanya included, when his father came home, Hunter preferred Panther to anyone else.

The summer was hectic. It seemed the men were always gone and Tanya cherished the few times Panther was home. His muscles, always hard and well-honed, were even more so now. He was leaner, having little time to eat properly and being always on the move. If possible, the sun seemed to have bronzed his skin to an even deeper hue.

Lying between his hard thighs each night, Tanya revelled in their stolen moments. Nowadays, they came together with an urgency that bespoke the danger ever-present in their lives. Each time he rode away from her, there was the possibility he would not return.

“I know you must go,” she told him, “but I cannot help worrying over your safety.”

“I cannot promise to return to you if the spirits wish it otherwise,” he answered, softly stroking her hair, “but my heart is with you always.”

When Panther was at home, he enjoyed spending time with his wife and son. Each time he returned, Hunter had grown more and learned something new. He applauded his son’s achievements as proudly as any father the world over.

The picture Panther took with him on each trip was that of Wildcat nursing his son at her breast. That mental portrait was precious to him. Each time he saw the small dark head nestled tenderly against her, the rosy lips eagerly searching out her nipple, his heart overflowed with love.

Tanya’s figure had altered with the birth of their child. Though still slim, her breasts were more full and her hips more rounded. Gone was the girlish maiden’s form, and in its place was that of a mature woman.

Since Hunter’s birth, though Panther still took time in their lovemaking to arouse her, though he still caressed and fondled her breasts, he never suckled them as he had in the past. This was now his son’s pleasure; the source of Hunter’s nourishment.

Lying next to him on their pallet, Tanya now guided Panther’s head to her breasts, needing to feel his lips upon her. He kissed her breasts, and his tongue reached out to trace the nipple. It puckered immediately at his touch, and tiny drops of milk seeped from it. He tasted the fluid with his tongue, and when he would have backed off, Tanya pressed his mouth to her breast, arching up to meet him.

“Please, Panther,” she moaned.

“I would not take my son’s meal from him,” Panther whispered.

“It will only make the milk come in faster. You will not deprive him,” she explained. “Please. I need to feel your lips on me. It has been so long since you have done this, and I starve for you!”

Satisfied that his son would not go hungry, Panther complied readily. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he suckled avidly and the warm, sweet milk flowed into his mouth. Beneath him, he felt Tanya’s body tense.

“Am I hurting you?” he murmured against her heated breast.

“Oh no, Panther, It feels glorious! Don’t stop.”

A few minutes later she was wriggling beneath him, “Make love to me, Panther. You have made me need you so! Make love to me!”

Her breast still sucked tightly between his lips, Panther entered her. As his lips pulled at her nipple, he could feel her body tighten and pull at his manhood.

Within moments her body was exploding around him, and his own passion broke with a force that rocked him to his toes.

Now when he rode off to war with his braves, he carried not only the picture of Hunter at Tanya’s breast, but the remembrance of their lovemaking and the taste of her sweet nectar on his tongue.

The last of September brought another messenger from Fort Larned. The man had ridden his horse nearly to death, covering almost 300 miles in seven days. The news he brought was both astounding and depressing. Roman Nose was dead. In intense fighting on Beecher Island a few days prior, Roman Nose and his band of Northern Cheyenne had attacked a specialized company of army scouts. The Cheyenne had won the battle, but Roman Nose had been fatally wounded when he lead his braves into battle, despite the fact that his medicine had been broken when he had eaten food served up by a metal spoon.

Now the army wanted to talk peace with the Cheyenne once more. Major Wynkoop had sent for Black Kettle, knowing if he agreed to come, others would follow. He counted on the fact that Black Kettle wanted peace above all else for his people.

Once again the Cheyenne headed for Fort Larned, Kansas. They arrived in mid-October for the preliminary meetings. All talks went smoothly this time, and a few days later the Medicine Lodge Treaty was signed at a place on the Medicine Lodge Creek. All the Southern Cheyenne, under Black Kettle’s pleas for peace, agreed to move south of the Arkansas River and stay there.

Panther understood his uncle’s reasons, but could not agree with his decision. Black Kettle wanted peace with the white soldiers. His braves could not hunt while they were busy making war. The tribes needed food and warm clothing for the long winters. Panther could see this, but in staying south of the Arkansas, the Cheyenne were giving up prime hunting land. The buffalo did not have to stay south of the river, but now the Cheyenne could not follow him if he crossed it. It sickened Panther to see the Indian pushed further and further from his lands and given only a few blankets and a little food as payment. It was unjust and it made him angry.

When Panther thought about the entire situation, whites versus Indian, he knew the Indian could not win. The white man would triumph in the end. He had grown up and been educated in their world. He was accepted and had friends and relatives in white society. The white man was greedy and grasping, and there were too many of them. The Indians could fight to the last man, and still there would be more white-eyes than could be counted, and they would always covet the Indian’s land. It was a losing battle before it had really started, but these were his people, too, and he would fight with them to the end.

WITH THE peace that fall came the time for the warriors to hunt. For once it seemed that nature was cooperating. Winter held off her cold and snows until much later that year, and the buffalo and deer were plentiful. Perhaps the tribe would not go hungry after all.

This year they did not go back to their old winter camp, but went further south and camped alongside the mountains in a sheltered valley next to the Cimarron River. After a frenzied, frantic year, Tanya looked forward to an uneventful winter. All she wanted was to snuggle up in her cozy tipi with Panther and Hunter to keep her company.

It was lovely having Panther home again after the harrowing summer. The work of skinning and preparing the hides he brought her seemed lighter than carrying the heavy load of worry she had for months before. Tanya would much rather watch Panther prepare for a hunt than for war.

The sun-warmed days of October lingered on into November. A festive celebration of thanksgiving, honoring the successful hunt and harvest was held, and later still a ceremony full of tradition and ritual to honor their chiefs and warriors for brave deeds. At this occasion, Chief Black Kettle was honored for his peace-making efforts; several chiefs and warriors, including Panther, were honored for their valor in the summer war; and Winter Bear achieved his ranking as chief.

December brought the first snow, but just a few inches to lightly cover the ground. Another Christmas came and went nearly unnoticed, except for the small pine tree Melissa and Tanya decorated on the edge of the village.

January and February brought heavier snow and polar winds with frigid temperatures, but only two major storms. Food supplies dwindled but everyone shared what they had, and no one went really hungry.

The occupants of Panther’s lodge stayed content and cozy in their tipi. Melissa, now more of a family member than a servant, had adopted the role of favorite aunt to Hunter. More than ever, Tanya appreciated the extra pair of helping hands, for Hunter had decided to learn to walk. Pulling himself up on his chubby legs, he would wobble and lurch precariously, and Tanya was ever fearful he would topple into the fire.

The rambunctious little rascal entertained them all with his endless antics. He was constantly on the move and usually ended up getting into something he was not supposed to before the day was out. Happy, healthy, and extremely curious, his active mind and body often got him into trouble with his mother. At such times, he would grin his toothy grin at her, look up at her with smiling golden eyes, and do his level best to soften her up. Most of the time he succeeded, but when he did not, he got his bottom whacked.

When Panther saw that Tanya was reaching the limit of her patience, he often bundled Hunter up and took him out with him. They would take Kit and Kat for a walk, see the horses, and visit Winter Bear or Grandfather Black Kettle for a while. By the time they returned, Tanya was usually in better sorts.

Hunter was not a bad baby; he was just a normal, active child. He was not moody or tempermental. Easy to please, he was pleasant and cheerful most of the time. Already Panther and Tanya were giving him lessons in protocol and respect. These were instilled early in all Cheyenne children, as was the necessity for absolute obedience to one’s parents. To obey instantly, without question, could well save a child’s life one day, and the failure to do so could be fatal in this untamed land.

Each morning Panther would seat Hunter next to himself as he chanted his daily prayers. Even though the child could not understand any of it yet, a pattern was being set for years to come. Both Tanya and Panther would tell him stories and sing songs of nature and Indian lore that had been told to Cheyenne children for countless years. These he could not understand either, but he would sit in Panther’s lap and listen to his father’s deep voice sound against his ear as he lay against Panther’s chest. He would turn large golden eyes up to his father’s face and seem fascinated with every word, or he would smile at his mother as she sang to him in her melodic voice.

At this age, Kit and Kat were both his playmates and his horses. The cubs were over a year old now, and about three-quarters their adult size. The poor darlings took a beating from Hunter, but did it gracefully. They never snarled or snapped at the child, but bore his antics with a patient endurance that Tanya secretly admired. Hunter mauled them, chewed on them, pulled their fur, and climbed onto their backs, and they never flicked a whisker, though once in a while Tanya swore she saw them roll their eyes and sigh in tired defeat.

One incident marred a nearly perfect winter. Just after Christmas, Tanya slipped on a patch of ice while out collecting firewood. She fell, hitting her head on a rock, and lay unconscious in the cold for over an hour before Panther found her. For a week she lay with a raging fever and congested chest, rarely regaining consciousness, and then not lucidly. Root Woman, Woman-To-Be-Hereafter, Melissa, and Panther took turns nursing her. All feared for her life, though none voiced the thought aloud.

Panther nearly went crazy with worry. In his worst moments, he cursed himself for ever capturing her in the first place. If she were with her family now, she would have a doctor and modern medicines to make her well. He even considered trying to take her to a town or fort for help, but Winter Bear talked enough sense into him to prevent it.

“She’d never survive the distance on horseback or travois,” Winter Bear advised. “Besides, you know most of the medicines doctors give are the same things Root Woman is giving her. Even if she could withstand the journey, don’t you think her family would find out? Someone could recognize her, and then where would you be?”

At Panther’s thoughtful look, he went on, “You’d end up in jail and most likely be hung. Wildcat would be returned to her family, and Hunter-of-the-Forest would be an orphan. No, cousin, this way is best. Wildcat will pull through this. She has a strong will to survive, and much to live for.”

Winter Bear was right. A full week after her accident, Tanya awoke with the dawn. She was weak, thirsty, hungry, and drenched in sweat from her broken fever, but she was awake and lucid. Her head ached abominably and her throat and chest hurt, but she was back in Panther’s world again.