T'on Ma (33 page)

Lana looked up into eyes she'd prayed she would never see again.

"You know her?" Leaf That Falls asked, astonished.

"Yes. I captured her once, but she escaped." Dark Fist walked over to her, grabbed her arms, and pulled her to her feet, ignoring her cries.

"She escaped?" That surprised the Kickapoo. He'd never heard of anyone getting away from Dark Fist.

"With help. How many horses do you want for her?"

Leaf That Falls knew he was in a good bargaining position. "Six."

"Six!"

"Yes. Six and one rifle."

"Two and one rifle."

"Five and…"

"Two and one rifle or I'll slit your throat and take her anyway."

"All right. Two horses and one rifle."

"Follow me," Dark Fist ordered Leaf That Falls and then, grabbing Lana's hand, he dragged her back to his camp. She didn't resist. She didn't have the strength to. A little while later, Leaf That Falls returned home with his new horses and a used rifle.

Once inside the tipi, Dark Fist threw Lana to the floor. He said something to a woman, who then turned to Lana and tied her hands behind her. That evening, they fed Lana supper and then ignored her.

The next morning, the woman led Lana to the river, where four other Apache women met them. She was stripped and told to bathe. One of the women handed her extract from agave plants and instructed her to wash her hair. While she did that, another woman took her clothes and washed them. The women began discussing her, knowing she didn't understand them.

"She's too skinny," one said.

"And too pale."

"Her bruises are almost gone, though."

"I don't know what he wants with her. He already has three wives."

"And why does he want her cleaned up if she's just a slave?"

"With Dark Fist, it's hard to know. Maybe he's got a wealthy buyer in mind and wants her looking better before he shows her to him."

"Maybe."

"Maybe it's those blue eyes. Have you ever seen blue eyes before?"

And so went the conversation and gossip. Within the hour, Lana was back in the tipi, wearing a borrowed buckskin dress, while her clothes dried on the bushes in the sun.

The Kiowa band of Many Deer and Crying Fox were the last to arrive at the powwow. After they set up camp, Red Flint and Many Deer went to find the other tribe leaders and let them know of their arrival. Returning, they told their band that the big meeting would be the next night.

When Gray Dove learned of this over supper that night, she told her worries to her husband. "I hope Two Hawks makes it in time."

"He will. He knows to hurry."

"He
used
to know to hurry," she corrected him. "But he hasn't been the same for a while. I don't know why he had to go hunting now. We don't need fresh meat right away."

"It will be all right, woman," Many Deer tried to reassure her. "He'll be here."

But, as if justifying his mother's concerns, Two Hawks didn't show up that night - or the next morning - or the next afternoon. His mother's mood progressed past frustration and irritation to anger. If he didn't show up by that night, she would go from there to worry.

That evening, as the sun set over the plains and buffalo grass rustled in the fall breeze, the intertribal village buzzed in high anticipation. Runners went through each camp, announcing for all to come to the meeting at the selected clearing.

Each tribe of the Apache, Comanche, Kickapoo and Kiowa chose four leaders to sit in the center circle. A larger circle of men ringed the inner one. The men, from teenagers to old grandfathers, came eager to listen to, and perhaps even contribute to, the discussion. Behind that ring sat women and children, not allowed to participate, but keen to watch. Even the youngest children sensed the gravity of the occasion and sat still.

The sixteen leaders began the council by washing themselves in sacred smoke sweetened with sage, cedar and sweetgrass. The ceremonial pipe passed from right to left around the inner circle, with each man inhaling deeply from it.

One of the Apache leaders rose and looked around the gathering before he began. He spoke of the recent history of bluecoats and settlers dividing the land between them, scaring off game and tearing the earth to build towns and forts, and to plant crops. After translators interpreted for the other three tribes, a sense of anger swelled throughout his audience.

One of the Comanche leaders spoke next and told of their current troubles with the soldiers. Skirmishes constantly broke out between the Comanche and the settlers. Inevitably, the bluecoats showed up with their guns and horses, leaving many Comanche dead. When the interpreters fell silent, several in the audience nodded, their jaws clenched, remembering the loss of loved ones.

A Kickapoo leader added his part, telling of the next string of forts planned to be built after winter. It would again divide their lands, making it difficult to follow the buffalo. And, without buffalo, all the people would starve. Indignant muttering rumbled through his audience when he finished.

The last speaker, a Kiowa leader, spoke of a plan - a plan using lightning fast attacks on new fort sites and homesteads, along with burning of new construction.

When he sat down, the debate began. Men from different tribes spoke of being at a disadvantage because they didn't have enough rifles for these attacks. Even if they had rifles, there was no ammunition, no powder, no bullets. And, if they were busy tearing down the new forts, who would hunt the buffalo?

The Apache Dark Fist stood up and waited for the voices to grow quiet. When he had everyone's attention, he pulled Lana to her feet and held her roughly by her elbow. Whispers filled the night air as all eyes inspected her. They had heard of a blue-eyed captive in camp, but most of them thought it a rumor.

"You see this woman?" Dark Fist asked when it finally grew quiet again. "She is beautiful, isn't she?" Waiting for the translators, he saw several heads nod in agreement. "She's been here with Leaf That Falls for over a week. She traveled with him for a week before that. Do you see any soldiers looking for her? Have any of you been asked about a missing white woman with blue eyes?"

No one said anything.

"No. You haven't." He pushed her forcefully around in a circle so all could see. "Wouldn't you come looking for this one if she was yours?" Turning Lana to face him, he stroked the side of her face in a lover's gesture. He looked thoughtfully into her eyes for a moment and then back at the crowd. "Yes, you would. I would." A chuckle rippled through his listeners at that.

Looking haughty, he said, "I'll tell you why no one searches for her. Because there aren't enough of them. They can't protect the forts they have now, let alone look for this one. So it will be easy for us to attack soldiers at the new forts before they are built, especially when they realize they are fighting not just the Apache - not just the Kiowa - not just the Kickapoo - not just the Comanche. They will be fighting all of us!"

A roar of approval went through the crowd. The women began trilling their enthusiasm, their courage high.

"Is that your woman?" one of the Comanche braves teased Dark Fist, "Or is she for sale?"

Dark Fist looked at the speaker, no smile on his face. "This one is mine!" With that, he led Lana back to his place and, pushing her to the ground, sat beside her, his point made.

Two Hawks walked into the crowded meeting. He stood tall, strong, proud, and many eyes followed him. His reputation preceded him. Many knew of his raiding parties throughout the spring and summer. The escape from hanging at the soldier fort only added to his notoriety. Many whispered behind hands into ears whose owners shook their heads in wondering admiration. Young women craned their necks to see the handsome warrior and, hopefully, to catch his eye.

As he studied the people, he did a double take. There, sitting with the men, a pair of unmistakable blue eyes looked right at him, stopping him in his tracks.

Unable to breathe or think, he took a first tentative step toward T'on Ma, and then a second. Unable - no - afraid to believe his sight, he kept staring, waiting for her ghost to disappear, her image to turn into a wisp of smoke and whirl away. But when she didn't disappear, when she kept looking at him, his chest exploded with a fierce light, a piercing joy, as rushing wings carried his love back to his soul and light back into his spirit.

T'on Ma's eyes went wide with their pleading. Looking to her right, he saw Dark Fist sitting beside her, glaring at him. The challenge was clear, the hatred between the two warriors palpable.

Two Hawks stepped through the people and walked up to T'on Ma, wordlessly holding out his hand. She eagerly took it and stood up. Dark Fist jumped to his feet and slapped her hand out of Two Hawks'.

"Sit down!" he ordered T'on Ma.

Two Hawks grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her to stand behind him.

"You've taken her from me for the last time," Dark Fist hissed. "I'm going to enjoy killing you in front of her."

"Laughing Turtle," Two Hawks called, not taking his eyes off his adversary. "Take her out of here!"

The young brave hurried over to T'on Ma and, as he escorted her away, Dark Fist ordered, "Don't take her too far. When I'm done killing this fool, I'll want her."

They kept walking, but when they got to the edge of the crowd, T'on Ma stopped Laughing Turtle. "Let's stay here," she said. "He may need me." Laughing Turtle didn't want to miss the fight and was more than happy to stay.

The Kiowa and the Apache still glared at each other.

"I gave you two women for her," Two Hawks reminded him. "She isn't yours to take."

"You didn't keep her very well," Dark Fist laughed derisively. "Someone found her all alone, hurt. I paid for her. Paid well. So, yes, she
is
mine to take."

"You'll have to kill me first!"

"I plan to." Dark Fist went to a crouching position as he pulled his finely honed knife from its sheath. The men around them moved back, giving the two foes more room. The Kiowa pulled his knife as well, and they began slowly circling each other.

The tribal leaders looked on with great consternation. This was supposed to be a time of unity against the soldiers. A fight between one Kiowa and one Apache could cause a rift between those two tribes. Then what would all of these plans be worth? But, both warriors were too well known for their fiery tempers, their skill in combat, and few felt daring enough to step between them. An Apache elder held out one placating hand and stepped forward.

"Stop! This is not the time or place."

"Stay out of this, old man," Dark Fist warned, his eyes trained on his adversary. "I've waited too long for his blood." Before anyone could intervene further, Dark Fist lunged, swinging his knife upward at Two Hawks' chest. The Kiowa warrior leapt back and spun around, throwing a backhand that missed the Apache by a fraction of an inch. At the same time, Dark Fist brought his blade down, slicing the Kiowa's shoulder.

In simultaneous movement, they both attempted an overhead stab, their free hand locked on the other's wrist. After a moment, Dark Fist jerked his adversary's torso to the left and kicked behind his knee from the right. Two Hawks fell backward; his enemy threw himself on top, his knife-hand raised. Two Hawks held the Apache's wrist, preventing him from stabbing downward. The two men locked in an even test of strength and will, neither moving, as their arms trembled with their great effort.

Finally, Two Hawks bucked, throwing his foe to the side. When Two Hawks leapt to his feet and kicked him in the chest, Dark Fist grabbed at his assailant's foot and twisted, sending him spiraling to the ground.

The Apache lunged again, but this time, Two Hawks was ready and thrust his knife upward, piercing Dark Fist in his stomach. With one vicious movement, Two Hawks jerked the knife up, slicing his adversary open to his chest. Then, with a death-dealing blow, he twisted the knife into the heart, his enemy's blood spurting down onto Two Hawks.

He pushed the dead man off and stood, swaying, trying to catch his breath. Ignoring his wound, he looked around for T'on Ma. She hurried through the people and, when she broke clear, stopped a few feet away from him.

He stretched one hand out toward her. T'on Ma jumped into his arms, holding him as tightly as he held her. When she raised her head, with tears in her eyes, he leaned down and kissed her long and sweet, momentarily forgetting that onlookers surrounded them. He had fought the devil himself for the right to do this. Let anyone say anything against her, and they would have him to deal with. She was his. There would be no more separation, no more waiting. Putting his arm around her shoulder, they walked past his father, past his mother, out of the camp, and to his place by the river.

As T'on Ma built a fire, Two Hawks sat on the ground, watching her, his back resting against a tree. Then she brought water from the river and began washing his wounded shoulder and cleaning Dark Fist's blood from his chest.

"I thought you were dead," he told her.

"What?"

"Your brother told me you were dead. He showed me your grave."

"My grave?" At first, she was confused. As she continued washing his chest and shoulder, she began to understand what had happened. "They must have buried Nan." After a pause, she said quietly, "So, my family thinks I'm dead."

"Yes."

"Then so does Liam."

"Probably."

T'on Ma set down the bowl of water and the cloth, tied a bandage around Two Hawks' arm, and then sat facing him. "Oh, poor Liam! My poor family! They must be grieving something awful."

"I know I did. When I saw you tonight, I thought you were a ghost." He touched her face. "I lost my mind when I heard you had died."

"Oh, love, I am so sorry. I didn't know." Moving to sit beside him, she rested her head on his chest, needing to be held by him, needing to feel him in her arms.

"What happened to you?" he asked quietly.

T'on Ma related her part of the wreck and her capture as best as she could remember. When she told him about being hurt, Two Hawks pushed her away, holding her shoulders to study her.