The Guardian (18 page)

The fluttering sensation in Charity's stomach grew almost unbearable as they rode down the hill. She had asked Black Sun to teach her some Arapaho words and customs as they rode. The lessons had filled their long days on the trail. But now it was as if everything she'd learned had drained away, leaving her mind as empty as a sieve.

She was so anxious for the Arapaho people to like her. What if, in her innocence, she said or did something that offended them?

What if they simply hated her on sight?

As if reading her thoughts, Black Sun reached out and touched her shoulder. “Don't be afraid,” he said. “My people will be kind to you. We are not called the Blue Sky people for nothing.”

Charity breathed an edgy little sigh. “I know they'll treat me with kindness,” she said. “But will they accept me as your woman? Will they accept Annie as your child?”

His hand tightened in a brief squeeze. “In the eyes of Heisonoonin, you are my wife,” he said. “They will accept that.”

She sensed the underlying tension in his voice. He was doing his best to reassure her, but Charity knew he had his own concerns. His future role with the tribe lay in the hands of his elderly grandfather, Four Winds, as did her own. There was also the question of his young son, Two Feathers. Would the little boy accept a white woman as his mother? Would he join their family or stay with the aunt who'd raised him from babyhood?

By the end of the day, their questions would be answered.

The camp was a large one, between sixty and seventy lodges, Black Sun told her. In the winter, when food was scarce, they separated into small family groups, but now the band had come together for the spring hunt. It was a time of happy abundance, a time for feasting and dancing and the renewal of old friendships.

As she and Black Sun approached the camp, Charity could smell roasting meat and hear the sounds of barking dogs and children's laughter. A group of naked youngsters splashed in a stream. Horses, fat and sleek, grazed in the tall spring grass. Charity kept her gaze lowered as they rode in among the teepees, knowing that it was impolite to stare directly at people. But she could feel a hundred eyes on her back as she and Black Sun dismounted in front of an elaborately painted tee
pee in the center of the camp. Before he greeted anyone else, Black Sun would speak with Four Winds.

The flap of the teepee was raised, but it was so shadowy inside that it took a moment for Charity's eyes to adjust to the darkness. She could make out the sloping lodge poles that formed the frame of the teepee and the objects that rested against its walls. A painted skin shield and a long-feathered lance caught her gaze, then a long clay pipe and a wondrous assortment of drums, rattles, flutes and baskets. Bundles of drying herbs hung from the poles, perfuming the air with the aromas of sage, pine, yarrow, onion and a melange of other scents she could not begin to name.

The figure sitting cross-legged on a beautiful white buffalo skin looked almost childlike at first. Then, as Charity's eyes adjusted to the low light, she realized she was seeing a man, shriveled with age. His snow-white hair hung like a veil over his shoulders, and he was wearing a fine buckskin shirt decorated with bands of elk teeth. For all his shriveled old body, there was an air of quiet majesty about him.

Black Sun greeted him in Arapaho. The old man looked up at him, revealing a scarred face with a missing eye, which Black Sun had told her had been lost in a long-ago bear attack. His remaining eye appeared clouded, but Charity had been told that he was not entirely blind.

The voice that answered Black Sun was deep and rich, with a ring of authority. His hand—the long, fine
fingers free of crippling—motioned for both of them to sit. Charity folded her legs beneath her. Balancing Annie's cradleboard in her arms, she settled herself near the edge of the white buffalo robe. Black Sun sat beside her. The two men spoke briefly in Arapaho before he turned to Charity.

“My grandfather says he cannot see you well. With your permission, he would like to touch you and Annie.”

Nodding, Charity leaned toward him. She could hear the pounding of her own heart as the sensitive fingers explored her face and hair and shoulders. Their touch was like gentle rain on her skin.

A smile spread across the old man's face as Annie's small, pink fist closed around his forefinger. How strangely connected the two of them seemed, one so old and one so young, neither of them far removed from their time in the spirit world.

Withdrawing his hands, he smiled again and spoke a few words to Charity. Black Sun translated.

“My grandfather says his fingers have told him you are strong and good of heart. And now if you would care to wait outside, he would like to speak with his grandson alone.”

Charity felt a dizzying rush of panic. With Black Sun at her side, she had felt secure. But even the thought of standing alone while people came to stare at her and Annie was enough to make her cringe.

Again, Black Sun seemed to sense what she was feeling. He spoke a few words to his grandfather. “It
will be all right,” he said, rising and helping Charity to her feet. “Come on, you'll see.”

He led her out into the dazzling sunlight. The people in the camp were making an elaborate show of going about their business, pretending to ignore her, but Charity could feel their curious glances whenever she turned away.

“I don't think—” she began, then broke off as she saw a plump, pretty, smiling woman walking straight toward her.

“Charity,” Black Sun said, “this is Sweet Grass Woman, the sister of my wife.”

Taking Charity's hand, Sweet Grass Woman spoke earnestly in Arapaho.

“She welcomes you,” Black Sun translated, “and asks if you would come to her lodge to rest and eat while I visit with my grandfather. She has a baby, too, a little girl. She says that maybe, when they're older, her child and yours will become friends.”

Charity swallowed the rising lump in her throat. How could she have been so self-absorbed in her fear that Black Sun's people wouldn't accept her? Sweet Grass Woman had come forward as her first friend. She had opened her arms to the one who'd taken her sister's place in Black Sun's heart.

Blinking back tears, Charity squeezed the woman's plump hand and murmured a thank-you in her halting Arapaho. She had so much to learn from these people, and the first lesson had already been given.

Her eyes caught a subtle movement behind Sweet Grass Woman's skirt. Slowly, like a flower unfolding, a small boy stepped into view. Clad in nothing but a string and a tiny patch of leather, he was as graceful as a wild fawn, lean and golden with melting dark eyes. Those eyes regarded her shyly as his hand emerged from behind his back clutching a bouquet of spring violets.

Charity murmured her thanks in Arapaho as she accepted the gift. Crushed by small, warm fingers, the violets were limp-stemmed and wilted. But to her they were more precious than gold.

When Black Sun spoke, his voice was rich with emotion. “This is Two Feathers,” he said softly. “This is our son.”

 

F
OUR
W
INDS LISTENED
to the story of his grandson's quest. Black Sun left out no details. If he were to do so, the old man would know.

“And so, did you receive your vision?” he asked when Black Sun had finished. “Was your quest successful?”

Black Sun closed his eyes for a moment, feeling as if he'd just relived all that had happened to him in the past moon—his finding of Charity, their time in the sacred canyon, his dreams and their perilous flight home.

“Not in the way I expected,” he answered. “I was seeking one thing. What I received was not what I asked for.”

“And what did you ask for?” The old man reached for the clay pipe and balanced it between his spidery hands. The pipe was sacred. Almost everything in the lodge was sacred.

“I wanted to be like you,” Black Sun said. “I wanted to be worthy to take your place, as you wished me to. I asked for the wisdom to serve our people, as you have.”

“And did you receive that wisdom?”

“No.” Black Sun sighed. “My grandfather, I am no more fit to take your place than a sparrow is fit to take the place of an eagle.”

A smile played around the old man's mouth. “Perhaps you were never meant to take my place. Perhaps you were meant to be a different kind of eagle. You didn't receive what you asked for. Tell me, what
did
you receive?”

“You met her. And you've seen that I love her. But I never thought I would return from my quest with a
Nih'oo'oo
woman.”

“A
Nih'oo'oo
woman, yes. But I can't help believing you were meant to find her, my grandson.”

Four Winds lowered his gaze to the sacred pipe in his hands. For a long moment he was silent. Black Sun sat quietly, knowing better than to disturb his grandfather when he was gathering wisdom.

When the old man looked up again, his face shone with understanding. “It all comes clear to me now,” he said. “My own visions have shown me a future with the
Nih'oo'oo
spreading over the land like a flood. To keep our people from drowning in that flood, we will need a voice—someone who understands the
Nih'oo'oo
and can reason with them in their own language. When the white man took you and your mother away from us, your feet were set on the path to becoming that voice. When you found the white woman and she healed the hate in your heart, the path was made clear. The two of you will become a bridge between our world and the world of the
Nih'oo'oo.
”

“But what about the dreams?” Black Sun dared to ask. “I was given two of them.”

“Yes,” the old man murmured, lost in thought once more. “Two dreams of the canyon. One dream of the past and one of the future.” He reached out and placed his hand on Black Sun's wrist. The grip of his fingers was surprisingly strong.

“You must understand that the canyon is a living thing. It senses what is to come, and it is afraid. Like a child in the night, it has called to you in your dreams. The canyon needs you, my grandson. It is asking you to become its guardian and the keeper of its sacred medicine.”

Black Sun struggled to grasp the clarity of his grandfather's wisdom. There were so many questions, so many fears for Charity and their family.

“There's no need for you to return at once,” Four Winds said. “As long as the
Siksika
roam the land, the canyon will be safe. But in time they will be driven
back by the
Nih'oo'oo.
When that happens, the canyon will call you again and you will answer.”

“But what about the future?” Black Sun whispered. “What about the second dream?”

“You have seen the future,” Four Winds answered sadly. “The canyon will die. When it happens, you will feel it in your heart, and you will be free to leave. But while the canyon is vulnerable, it will need your protection. It will need your love.” The old man released Black Sun's wrist and smiled. “Now I am tired. Go and find your woman and tell her all that I have said. Tomorrow you can bring her to visit me again, with her little baby.”

Black Sun walked out into the camp, his heart bursting. It was as if all the painful and tragic events of his life had fallen into place and taken on meaning. He would never be fully Arapaho and, even as Charity's husband, he would never be white. But he had his own place, his own gifts to offer, the love of a beautiful woman and the hope of a happy future together.

For the first time in his life, he felt peace.

Lengthening his stride, he raced through the golden sunlight to find Charity and their children.

April, 1842

T
HEY ARRIVED
as the sun was setting above the peaks, flooding the cliffs with tones of mauve, amber and rose that melted into purple pools of shadow.

Charity sat beside Black Sun on the wagon bench, filling her eyes with the beauty of the canyon, amazed that it had not changed. Her hand groped for his fingers and found them, squeezing hard. After five long years, they had come home.

“Are we here, Mama?” Annie clambered onto the bench between them. “Is this where we're going to build our new house?”

“It is,” Black Sun said. “Tomorrow morning you can help me choose the spot.”

“Over there—no, over there!” Annie bounced up and down, her amulet swinging wildly. One small, sharp elbow jabbed against her mother's rounded belly.

“Careful, now.” Charity eased her daughter gently back onto the seat. She had suffered a miscarriage three
years earlier, but this baby seemed to be thriving. Black Sun had been willing to wait a few months before moving to the land they planned to settle at the mouth of the canyon, but Charity had wanted her baby to be born here.

She was hoping for a boy. Two Feathers was eleven years old now, and busy learning the life path of an Arapaho warrior. They had left him behind with Sweet Grass Woman to continue his training, but he would be spending the winter months with them. He was a fine, intelligent boy, already showing the promise of his great-grandfather's gifts. Charity couldn't have loved him more, but she wanted to give her husband another son, one he could raise here.

They planned to build a small ranch with a house and corral, where Black Sun could catch and train wild horses. His own dun buffalo pony and the little pinto, who'd become Annie's special pet, were with them now, trailing alongside the wagon. Soon there would be more horses and, Charity hoped, more children, as well.

The canyon itself was to remain sacred. They would not enter it again, not even to visit the secret cave where they had first made love. They would keep it safe for as long as they could until the future foretold in Black Sun's dream came to pass.

Clouds were rolling in above the peaks, blown by a moist wind that carried the promise of rain. Charity
loosened the pins from her hair, letting it fly loose as she helped Black Sun secure their first night's camp.

Tonight, when she lay in her husband's arms, they would hear the sound of thunder.