Song Of The Warrior (6 page)

“Wait, Atsi, I'm sure he'll sit still for a while and maybe even go to sleep while we work. By the way, the Indian agent's wife is going to see to it that there's finally some cloth for dresses brought out here.”

The girl grinned. “I'll keep him quiet, you'll see.”

The toddler looked up at Willow. “Mama?” he asked in his own language.

Willow leaned over and picked him up, hugged him a little, looked at Bear. “Where is she?”

Bear frowned. “Probably in town.” He seemed reticent with all the children gathering around.

Willow made a shooing motion. “Everyone go to the tree, I'll be right along,” she urged.

The chubby girl took the toddler by the hand and led him with all the others running, shouting with excitement.

Willow waited, but Bear only looked at her. She began to walk toward the tree and to her surprise, he walked beside her, adjusting his long stride to keep pace with her small steps. “Don't ask about Rainbow again,” he said softly. “Often she is off drunk on the soldiers' whiskey, or ...”

“Or what?” Willow demanded.

“The Wolf Cub's mother is very
palojami
,” Bear said as if that explained everything.

“Pretty? What's that got to do with anything?” Willow demanded. “She really ought to look after her child; it seems he's being raised by everyone in camp but his mother.”

“The Nez Perce take care of their own,” he said.

What was it about this big man that always rattled her? “They didn't take care of me,” Willow snapped. “If it hadn't been for the reverend and his good wife taking me in as an neglected and abandoned child—”

“Is that what they told you?”

She waited, but he said nothing more. She had forgotten how taciturn warriors could be; men of few words. “I can't be looking after small toddlers too young to be in school,” Willow said again.

“If you want Atsi in class, you will often get him, too, because the old grandmother has work to do.”

“I should complain to someone about his mother.”

“Like who?”

“Well, I don't know,” Willow said, exasperated. “All I seem to know is that his mother drinks and she's pretty.”

“Sometimes Rainbow manages to bring home a little of the money and trinkets the soldiers trade her. Once our women would not have stooped to such shame.”

It dawned on Willow suddenly what the pretty Indian girl was doing to earn the whiskey and trade goods. “Oh, my goodness.” She put her hand to her mouth. “Why doesn't someone stop—?”

“And what do you suggest, mission girl?”. His voice was scornful. “The white
piupsiaunat
, the soldiers bring the whiskey to her.”

“This is an outrage! I-I'll speak to the town council.”

“Some of those very men pleasure themselves with our women.”

“That's terrible! I'll tell the officers at the fort.”

“Where do you think the whiskey and money for our pretty women comes from?”

“You must be mistaken!” Willow said.

“Am I?”

“Why must you always answer a question with a question?”

He shrugged. “I tire of this, Green Eyes. Let me warn you to be wary of the young coyote who rides in your buggy.”

She had to exert a great deal of self-control not to slap him. “That's insulting! Lieutenant Warton is a perfect gentleman.”

“Maybe around white girls; I'm not even sure of that. Consider yourself warned.” He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Willow staring after his broad, buckskin-clad back. She started to yell after him, but she had a feeling he would not answer the angry shriek of a mere woman. This one had
simiakia,
all right; that swaggering pride of manhood that said he was all male and knew it.

Raven came from another direction and joined her. “What has happened with Bear? He just brushed past me, looking as angry as I've ever seen him.”

She didn't want to discuss Bear. His adoring younger brother would only rush to his defense. “He was merely proving to me that indeed he was named for his disposition,” she said wryly.

“Willow, I think you should know …”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He fell in step with her as they walked toward the tree. “It is not fitting that I discuss him with you.”

“That certainly suits me fine,” Willow snapped, “he was quite rude to Lieutenant Warton.”

“You brought the young officer with you?” When she glanced over, Raven looked disappointed. “Are you afraid of your own people?”

“No, of course not. The officer was being gallant and it was difficult to refuse.”

“The lieutenant sees us all as a bunch of dirty savages.”

Willow didn't answer. She wasn't sure what to say, because she sensed that it might be true. “Raven, I'm glad there is at least one member of your family who is eager to learn and doesn't wish I would go away.”

Raven chuckled, but his tone was sad. “That is exactly what Bear says you will do, so I and the children should not count on you too much.”

“But I intend to stay!” Willow protested.

Raven shook his head. “I would like to believe that, but Bear says you will find us too primitive, too savage, and leave.”

It dawned on her then that Bear was trying to run her off. Why, she couldn't imagine. She could be as stubborn as he was, she thought. She would prove to him that she was no delicate, fainting white girl. She was Nez Perce herself and she was committed to helping her people, even if she had to fight hostile males like Bear to do it.

They settled down under the tree and for the next hour, she showed the eager children how to write letters with sticks in the dirt. “Sometime, we will learn to read.”

“We have nothing to read,” Atsi said matter-of-factly.

Willow remembered last night. “I have asked the Indian agent's wife about some supplies; maybe we'll get storybooks and then you can read them yourselves.”

Cub had lain his dark little head in Willow's lap and drifted off to sleep. She patted him automatically and reached for her favorite novel.

One of the other children said, “Is that a real book?”

Willow nodded, held the book up. “I will pass it around so you can see what the letters look like. When they are put together, they spell words that say things.”

“Spirit magic,” Atsi whispered and reached to touch the novel. She handed it to Raven who stared at the cover.

“I have never before touched a book,” he said, “it is indeed magic. Is it your
wyakin
, your special good luck?”

Willow blinked back the sudden moisture in her eyes. “It is only a story,” she said.

“Like the tales the old ones tell around the campfires?” Raven asked.

“Yes.” Willow nodded. “And like those legends, it is full of brave deeds and love and noble things.”

With great respect, the children passed it around so that all could touch the cover and stare at the print.

“It is called
A Tale
of Two Cities,”
Willow said. “It is my favorite story.”

“Then it is mine, too,” Raven announced gravely. “The words look hard, perhaps I will never be able to read it.”

“Oh, no,” Willow hastened to assure him, “someday, I intend all of you should read the black marks so that you, too, can be part of the magic of a faraway place and time.”

Cub woke up then and began whimpering. Atsi gathered him into her arms, shushing him.

“It's all right,” Willow said gently, “he probably misses his mother.”

“Sometimes she comes back to the camp,” Raven said. “In the meantime, he seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“And me him,” Willow said, reaching to pat the little boy. “All right, class, that's all for the day.
Taz alago.”

The children scrambled to their feet and took off like wild colts bolting for freedom, whooping and shouting.

Willow felt Raven watching her.

“I am having a little trouble with my letters,” he said. “If you wouldn't mind ... ?”

“Of course not. Here, now let me show you how to write your name.” She drew R-A-V-E-N slowly in the dirt.

He tried, struggled.

“No, more like this.” Without thinking, she put her hand on top of his and heard his sharp intake of breath. They looked into each other's eyes and there was no mistaking the emotion in his.

Quickly, she drew back. Raven was a man, but she had been thinking of him as a mere boy. “I must go now.” Willow jumped up and brushed the dirt from her skirt.

Raven picked up her books and slate and began to walk next to her. “That lieutenant; he will come with you all the time?”

“I don't know.”

“I hope he won't. His being here tells us you are afraid or distrust your own people.”

“But I don't.”

“Bear says you do, he says the white people have turned you into one of them after taking you away from your mother.”

Willow shook her head. “I don't know what you're talking about; all I know is that my mother is dead.”

“Yes. They say the white trapper was grieved when he finally tracked her down and she was dead.”

“My father came looking for us?”

Raven shrugged. “He may be dead now, too, no one knows. It has been a long time. Anyway, what does it matter now?”

“I suppose it doesn't.” She heard the familiar voice of the little toddler behind her somewhere. “Raven, would you do me a favor and go see about Cub?”

“That is woman's work.” He frowned. “No warrior looks after
tikash
, cradleboard babies.”

“For me, please,” she entreated.

Raven hesitated, then turned back along the path to see about the little boy.
“Taz alago.”

“Taz alago.”
She returned his goodbye. Deep in thought, Willow walked on toward the buggy. Even from a distance, Lieutenant Warton sat there with sweat on his face, looking quite out of sorts.

Bear stepped out of the woods just then, watching her and blocking her path. She would have to pass him to get to the buggy, and he didn't look as if he intended that to happen. If he tried to detain her, Billy Warton might get nervous and shoot him.

Maybe if she just ignored Bear and kept walking, he would let her pass. Somehow even as Willow took a deep breath and quickened her step, she knew that wasn't going to happen.

As Willow passed Bear on her way to the buggy, he reached out and caught her arm. “What is this magic you use against my brother that causes him to sit at your feet for hours like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake?”

She glanced toward the lieutenant who had stood up, put his hand on his pistol, looking nervous and undecided. She didn't want to cause an incident and besides, she wasn't sure the lieutenant had the courage, even with a gun, to come to her aid.

Willow jerked from Bear's grasp. “I'm teaching him to read.” She kept her tone frosty. “It is not a
kapsis itu,
a bad thing.”

“I read a little,” Bear said, “but I think it is not the love of education that draws Raven to you.”

“Miss Willow,” Lieutenant Warton called, “do you need some assistance?”

She glanced from one man to the other. Bear could break the callow white man in half; probably take that pistol away from the natty officer and shove it down his throat. “No, Lieutenant, we were just discussing something about the children; that's all.” She pushed past Bear and headed for the buggy.

Lieutenant Warton clambered down to help her up. “It's about time; I must say.”

He didn't have the strength Bear had, she thought as he took her elbow and assisted her into the buggy; but then, almost no one did. She remembered the way Bear had held her hand like an imprisoned, delicate bird that he could easily have crushed in his grip.

She settled herself in the buggy as the officer snapped the reins and the bay gelding began a slow and dutiful walk toward the settlement. When she glanced back over her shoulder, Raven had come up and stood by his older brother, both of them watching her with solemn expressions as the buggy left.

She breathed a sigh of relief as they drove down the road away from the camp. “Lieutenant, I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to come out here with me anymore.”

“I'm not afraid, if that's what you think,” he said a little too quickly.

“Oh, I know that,” she hastened to soothe his boyish pride, “but it does add to a tense situation. I'm not in any danger; after all, these are my people.”

“You seem so white,” he said, “that sometimes I forget you've got any Injun blood at all.”

“What did you say?” Perhaps she had misunderstood him.

“Nothing.” He smiled at her with that errant curl hanging down on his forehead and she thought again how handsome he'd be if he didn't have such a weak chin.

“I'll bet your mother doted on you,” Willow said without thinking.

“How did you know?” He chuckled.

“And were you an only child, too?”

He nodded. “My mother thought I could do no wrong, but I could never please my father.” His face clouded a moment as if remembering the past, then abruptly, he changed the subject. “So how did your day's lessons go?”

Did he really care? His tone sounded bored. “There's a toddler, sort of a sad little fellow, and a girl about eleven or twelve who really seems eager to learn.”

“To what purpose, Miss Willow?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He glanced over at her and his expression was almost cynical. “Is there really any point in teaching poetry and such to some little squaw who will be carrying a cradleboard and hauling firewood for some brave in a year or two?”

“Knowledge is never a waste, Lieutenant.” She watched the breathtaking scenery they were passing. “In fact, some of the adults are beginning to hang around the tree. I'm trying to figure out a way to bring them into my class without making them lose face.”

“Great!” He laughed. “I'm sure it will make our boys in blue feel much better if trouble breaks out to know they're being scalped by educated savages.”

“Nez Perce never scalp those they kill in battle.” Her first impulse had been correct, Willow thought; she didn't think she liked Billy Warton very much. “Really, Lieutenant, I'm disappointed; I thought you shared my concerns about educating these children.”

“Forgive me, Miss Willow, if I've offended you,” he said, at once charming and contrite. “I'm more concerned for your safety than anyone's education.” He gestured with his head back over his shoulder. “I've seen the way that pair of brothers look at you, like they'd both want to . . .”

The silence seemed very heavy. For a long moment, the only sound was the clop of the horse's hooves and a bird singing somewhere in the pine trees.

“Lieutenant,” she said coldly, “I think you underestimate Nez Perce braves; there is a code of honor among them.”

“The way that pair looks at you, I'd say honor is not what's on either of their minds. But let's not fuss, Miss Willow.” Again the engaging boyish smile. Willow wondered suddenly if he had used it often to get his way with his doting mother. “Actually, I've got a very selfish idea. I had one of the ladies pack us a picnic lunch so we could make a real holiday of it.”

So the rest of the town was in on this courtship, too.

“I really should get back,” Willow said. “Reverend Harlow isn't well.”

“Oh, I've already mentioned it to him last night; he encouraged it. He's a fine old man, Miss Willow, but he is concerned about having a male relative to look after both him and you in the future.”

“We're doing all right alone,” Willow said.

“That's what I like about you,” he said, giving her a condescending grin as he reined in under some trees. “You're so incredibly spunky, just like a heroine in one of those silly novels girls like to weep over.”

She stifled an urge to give him a sharp slap across his smug face. But then, was his attitude any different from any of the other civilized men she knew? Men wanted wives who knew their places; good, obedient women who did as they were told. Willow sighed as Lieutenant Warton stepped down and reached for the picnic basket.

“Miss Willow, you have to eat anyway, and I'll wager you haven't been picnicking for a long time.”

She capitulated with a shrug. “What can it hurt?”

 

 

Bear had stood next to Raven for a long moment, staring after the buggy as it disappeared up the road. He wished he could put a name to the emotion this flippant, irreverent girl brought out in him. Perhaps it was only that he was afraid she would hurt his younger brother. There was no mistaking how Raven felt about her.

They turned and returned to their lodge.

Raven said, “Maybe we should have escorted them to make sure they don't run into any enemy war parties on their way back to the fort.”

Bear laughed. “In the heart of our territory? No enemy would be so brazen!”

“It is not impossible.” Raven appeared dejected.

He had looked after his younger brother ever since their mother had been killed. He hadn't meant to hurt him. Gently, he put his hand on Raven's shoulder. “Do not think about her the way you are doing, little brother, she is not for you.”

“Must you always be so superior? So smug?” Raven shook his hand off. “You think you know everything.”

“Forgive me,” Bear said softly, “she will only bring you trouble and pain. In her heart, this one is white.”

“She's almost half-Indian.”

“But that has been overruled by her white blood. No doubt she will marry a soldier or some settler. I seek only what is best for you; I promised that to our dying mother.”

“I will never live that down, will I?” He turned on Bear, eyes blazing. “Must you remind me that if it hadn't been for my cowardice, she would still be alive?”

“You were only a boy,” Bear soothed softly, “and even the bravest warrior might run when facing the great grizzly.”

“But you did not run; you would never flee in the face of danger, especially if others' lives were at stake.”

Bear sighed. “It is not important.”

“It is important to me!” Raven's voice rose, “How do you think I feel, knowing I am alive because of what you endured? That everyone among our people knows my cowardice caused our mother's death?”

“It could have happened to anyone,” Bear said softly. “Do I ever mention it?”

“You don't have to, but I never forget, except sometimes when I get into the white man's whiskey; then I forget for a little while.”

“Someday, Raven, I know you will do something very brave and honorable, something that all our people will remember and tell around the campfires a hundred years from now.”

“And in the meantime, I live in your shadow,” Raven said, bitterness etched on his handsome face. “I was better armed than you, yet I turned and ran like a terrified rabbit!”

Bear shrugged. “You couldn't help it that your arrow only wounded it.”

“But there was time for a second shot if I had stood my ground instead of fleeing and leaving our mother to face it. If only—”

“These are sad words,” Bear said, “and nothing can be changed except the future. Someday, I have faith that you will bring honor to our family as our father did when he died in battle against the enemy Blackfoot; that someday, you, too, will sing a warrior's song in battle.”

“You have more faith in me than I do,” Raven snapped. “And in the meantime, if the girl finds out, she would laugh at me as do the others.”

“Perhaps she will not find out,” Bear suggested softly. “I will not tell her.”

“Someone will. Do you know why she thinks you have the name?”

He didn't answer, Bear only waited.

“She thinks it is because of your disposition, because you are so abrupt with her.”

Bear shrugged wide shoulders. “It is of no matter to me what she thinks.” He looked away then because it was not good for a man to lie and somehow, the girl's opinion mattered very much to him and it angered Bear that it did so.

“I am weary of living in your shadow, always the talk of your brave deeds.”

“Then why don't you stop playing the
mimillu
, and behave like a warrior should?” Bear blurted out before he thought and then immediately regretted it.

“I know what I am,” Raven said softly. “I can never live up to your reputation and I can never forget our mother's death. Sometimes, at night, I think I can hear her scream and the grizzly snarl!” He put his hands over his ears in anguish.

Bear waited, feeling empathy for his tortured brother. “Sometimes, a man gets a second chance to prove himself,” he comforted, “and when that chance finally comes, I know you will behave with honor and bravery.”

“I have neither honor nor bravery,” Raven almost shouted at him, eyes blazing. “The whole camp knows that; not like you! I am less than worthless; sometimes I have to wonder why the great God,
Hunyewat
, spared me that day.”

How many times had they had this same discussion?

“For everything, there is a reason,” Bear said, “and someday, you will know for what purpose you were spared, even though neither of us know it now.”

“I know why I was spared,” Raven shouted, “because I had a big brother who would stand and fight with only a knife while I showed my cowardice and ran. I will always run in a crisis; I know that deep in my heart!”

Before Bear could say anything else, Raven turned and fled from the lodge. In a moment, Bear heard Raven's Appaloosa galloping away from the camp.

He sat down by the small lodge fire and put his head in his hands. It didn't matter to him that any woman would gasp if she ever saw him without his buckskin shirt, which Bear made sure none did. He had no time for a wife anyway until he was sure that Raven was on the right road. He had promised their dying mother he would look after his younger brother and he took his oath seriously.

Bear's mind went to the woman Willow. He and his brother had not had all this conflict until she had shown up on the scene. She was only playing with Raven, he was sure of it. She would amuse herself with the handsome young savage, then marry some white man like the lieutenant with his fine uniform and shiny brass buttons. Perhaps she came to the camp out of a sense of duty or maybe a guilty conscience. Did she know about her own past? Did it matter?

All that mattered to Bear was that she stop amusing herself at his little brother's expense. It could only hurt Raven deeply and this one more thing might finish him. Already, Raven drank the white man's whiskey whenever he got the chance. Bear looked out the tipi opening and considered. Should he go confront this chit and demand that she cease pretending she wanted to educate Raven?

This needed to stop before the younger brother lost his heart to her completely. Yes, Bear was angry with her; at least, that's all this turmoil and emotion could be. He gritted his teeth, thinking. In a few minutes, she should be back at the preacher's house. Perhaps if Bear went there, had this out with her, she would agree to stop toying with his younger brother. Raven need never know. He would be hurt for a little while, of course, but better it should happen now before she broke his brother's heart completely. This Willow's heart was white and she would never seriously consider a Nez Perce husband.

Bear left the lodge and caught his Appaloosa stallion. Raven would be out riding through the hills, wearing down his anguish, and maybe drinking. It was easy enough for the young braves to get whiskey. At times like this, Raven usually didn't return for hours; plenty of time for Bear to confront this chit and give her a piece of his mind. She would be glad to stay away from Raven when Bear finished his cold words. Bear saddled up and rode out at a leisurely pace toward town.

 

 

Billy Warton smiled at Willow as he climbed down from the buggy and went around to get the picnic basket and a quilt. Yes, he was hungry all right, but it wasn't for food. This was a fairly isolated spot for what he had in mind.

He gave her another smile as he put the things down in the shade of a big tree, then returned to lift her from the buggy. “Isn't this a pretty place?”