White Wind (26 page)

In another area at the base of the Black Hills, several days’ ride north of Golden Eagle’s present village, lay the village of White Cloud. In her tipi, Wild-Flower paced. Peering out the opening of the tipi, she watched her mother tend to the now-ready meal.

The sight and smell of their cooking meal did not interest Wild-Flower. She wasn’t the least bit hungry. Over her mother’s hunched shoulders, she watched her father and brothers approach. She grimaced in frustration and spun around, wringing her hands.

She needed to talk to her father alone, without interruptions, but every time she tried, something came up. Usually it was one of her brothers who interfered. Today she had to find a way.

Stepping out when her mother called her, Wild-Flower and her younger sister helped their mother serve her father and brothers. Wild-Flower went to a buffalo paunch suspended by four long poles, hot rocks placed inside keeping the liquid hot. She scooped a few pieces of sliced turnips and a couple chunks of prairie chicken from the simmering stew. Wild-Flower sat and shredded the small amount of meat, eating very little of the mouthwatering meal as she mulled over in her head what she wanted to say to her father.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, anxious for the meal to end, Wild-Flower was unaware of White Cloud’s watchful eyes on her.

“Are you not hungry this day, daughter?” Wild-Flower started in surprise when her father addressed her. She set her food aside and shook her head as her mother served White Cloud the empty buffalo paunch which had served as their kettle for cooking the stew.

As she watched, White Cloud took what he wanted and passed it to his sons, each taking and passing it around until it came to her. She shook her head and passed it to her sister and mother. “No, my father. I do not seem hungry at the moment.”

Wild-Flower stood to ask if they could take a walk so she could talk to him, but her mother reminded her to help her sister in the clean-up. Wild-Flower rose and worked quickly, hurrying her sister. When done, she wiped her hands on her skirt and headed toward the circle in which her father and brothers still sat and talked, but again her mother’s voice halted her.

“Wild-Flower. Today would be a good time to work on your wedding garments. You have much sewing to do before the wedding.”

Turning back to her mother, Wild-Flower replied offhandedly, “Not today, Mother. I am not in the mood to sew.” The last thing she wanted to do was sit and sew garments for a marriage and a husband she didn’t want

Placing her hands firmly on her hips, Small Bird blocked Wild-Flower’s path. “Now, daughter, time grows short. You have hardly spent any time on them at all. I insist that you spend the rest of today preparing for your wedding. It is your duty to go to Golden Eagle prepared.” Her mother spoke firmly, catching her husband’s eye.

“But…” Wild-Flower got no further, as her father’s voice interrupted her protests.

“That is enough, Wild-Flower. You will do as your mother bids. I did not raise my daughter to be disobedient. You will bring shame to our tribe if you do not remember this. Your mother is wise. Your time grows short. Now, no more words. Go.” White Cloud pointed toward the tipi.

Lowering her head to hide tears of hurt and frustration, Wild-Flower stormed inside to her hated sewing.

Chief White Cloud stared at the doorway long after his eldest daughter disappeared. Guilt invaded his thoughts. He’d not spent much time with her recently. Lately, he’d bestowed all his attention on his two youngest sons, who required his close supervision as they were ready to leave childhood behind and begin the rigorous training that would transform boys into brave warriors. Thankfully, he had Running Wolf to help with their training, he thought, glancing proudly at each of his sons.

Staring around the family circle lacking only Wild-Flower, he looked upon each of his children with pride. His firstborn, Running Wolf, had grown into a brave young warrior. At nearly 17 winters, he was strong and brave, and already showed signs of becoming a good leader.

White Cloud listened with half an ear as Running Wolf regaled his two younger brothers with some of his tales. At ten and twelve winters, they stood in awe of their big brother.

His youngest daughter, now eight winters, was quietly helping his wife. Desiring nothing more than to help her mother, learning all she could about her future role, she was the opposite of her older sister. From the first day Wild-Flower had walked, she had followed her father and older brother everywhere she could.

More out of amusement, White Cloud had secretly taught her to shoot arrows, hunt small animals and many other things girls were not normally taught. Later, whenever he’d urged her to stay with the women, explaining such activities as hunting were for boys and warriors, she’d pout and argue until he relented.

Running Wolf, older by three years, had pointed out that there was no harm in his young sister learning how to take care of herself. He had also taken an interest in his sister’s unorthodox training. Running Wolf was male enough to enjoy having a sister who adored him.

Hopefully, she’d not be a handful or too outspoken in her new tribe. She lived up to her name at times, White Cloud mused.

Allowing his gaze to rest on his wife as she emerged from the tipi, he admired the beauty her face still held. Time and five children had done little damage to her body. True, she was older, as was he, but her beauty had only matured over the years. White Cloud closed his eyes and gave silent thanks for his family.

He accepted his wife’s nod of thanks for his intervention and frowned. Again he wondered what was bothering his eldest daughter. Even though raised freer than most girls, she’d never been so difficult before.

He shook his head as his sons called to him. Turning, White Cloud left, Running Wolf striding beside him, the younger two boys running ahead.

Several hours later, still wet from his bath, Chief White Cloud entered his tipi and his gaze went to Wild-Flower sitting on her mat, bits and pieces of softened deer and elk hides surrounding her.

Stopping in front of her, he picked up a large folded piece she had laid aside. Pride swelled within his chest as he noted the wide painstakingly cut fringe at the bottom of the long dress and the painted quills and beads across the yoke. White Cloud smiled his approval, setting the nearly white garment aside to pick up a shirt lying in her lap.

Its size suggested a man’s shirt. Nodding his satisfaction with the quality of her work, he fingered the inside lining of fur. “Your husband will be well clothed. This shirt will provide warmth in the cold months,” he said in praise, handing the shirt back so she could continue with her decorating of it.

Lowering her head, Wild-Flower hid her eyes, for she’d not made the shirt for Golden Eagle. It had been made with love for Red Fox.

“You have been very busy and quick today, my daughter. Your future husband will be proud to have a wife so skillful,” White Cloud complimented her. “You will make Golden Eagle a fine wife, daughter,” he added. His thoughts that afternoon had been on Wild-Flower and whatever was troubling her. The only excuse he found to explain her erratic behavior was her upcoming marriage. Perhaps she grew nervous as her joining neared. That, he’d reasoned, was normal for a young girl, and he hoped to convince her that she had no fears on that score.

Taking a deep breath, Wild-Flower carefully set her sewing down and looked into her father’s proud eyes.

“Father, I need to talk to you,” she began.

Returning his attention to his child, White Cloud watched Wild-Flower rise gracefully to her feet and hesitate before him.

“Speak, Wild-Flower. I have never seen you at a loss for words before,” he teased after she had remained silent several moments.

“Do not force me to marry Golden Eagle, my father,” Wild-Flower blurted out, not knowing of a more tactful way to tell him.

White Cloud hid his smile. He had been right. It was marriage nerves after all. “Now, daughter, I know your mother has talked to you about marriage and the way between husband and wife. It is nothing to become worried over. You will adjust to being wife to Golden Eagle quickly. Then you will see that all your worry was for nothing.” White Cloud traced his finger down the side of her cheek. He’d have Small Bird talk to her once again.

“No, Father,” Wild-Flower cried out, stepping back. “You do not understand. I do not wish to join with Golden Eagle at all. I do not want him as my husband.”

“What?” White Cloud roared, his face suffused with red as anger at his daughter’s words grew. “Explain yourself, my eldest daughter,” he commanded, arms crossed, posture rigid and angry.

Wild-Flower bravely drew her self tall and proud and met her father’s thunderous expression. “I do not love Golden Eagle, Father. I wish to marry for love. Please allow me this,” Wild-Flower begged.

Relaxing somewhat, White Cloud stepped forward to gently cup her small delicate face. His eyes searched hers. “Is this all that is bothering you? Love will come in time, my child. When you go to live with Golden Eagle, the love will grow as you get to know each other. Look at your mother and me. Ours was an arranged match. It has worked well.”

Twisting away, Wild-Flower threw out her hands, beseeching him as she cried, “But neither of you loved another. We both love…”

Staring at his Wild-Flower as if she’d grown two heads, White Cloud heard no more. He found himself trapped between her words and his memories. Hardening his features and heart to her misery and his memories, he glared angrily at his daughter.
“No!” he shouted, cutting her off. “You will do as you are bid. You will marry Golden Eagle. Do you mean to cause shame and war between our tribes again?”

“But Father, Golden Eagle…”

“No. No more talk of foolishness. It has been decided. You will not mention this again. I forbid it.”

With tears coursing down her cheeks, Wild-Flower sobbed. “Love is not foolish, my father,” she choked out.

Cutting her off with the downward slash of his fist, White Cloud shouted, “Enough! You will remain in the tipi and beg to the spirits for forgiveness for your selfishness.” Turning, White Cloud stormed through the doorway. Chief White Cloud pushed past his people and kept going, heading deeper into the woods. The demons he’d laid to rest so long ago came rushing at him, the pictures and voices in his head startlingly clear, as if it had been yesterday. They taunted him and drove him far from the village.

Cries. Frightened and hysterical cries echoed in his mind. He dropped to the ground and put his hands over his ears. But the memories wouldn’t go away. Nor did closing his eyes dispel the pictures that flashed through his mind. He groaned and gave in to the painful memories and traveled back in time.

Wild-Flower’s words came back to haunt him. “Love,” he cried out loud. Yes, he had grown to love Small Bird, but he’d never forgotten his first love. White Cloud saw her clearly: sun-yellow hair, blue eyes. Those eyes—eyes that trusted him to care for her, eyes radiant with love.

He remembered how her eyes had held fear and hurt the last time he’d seen her, for he’d had to leave her behind when the time came to return to his people. He’d made certain she would be found, but it had taken several hours.

The memories continued to wash over White Cloud. He could not stop the visions, especially of those hours when he’d remained hidden, watching over her to protect her until the white trapper found her. He’d silently kept vigil, concealed deep in the shadows high on the ridge. His proud shoulders had slumped in misery and despair as she called out to him. The hurt, the physical ache of that one final moment shot through him like an arrow.

He winced, stared at his hand and involuntarily flexed his fingers as he remembered holding on to a thick branch for support as Emily had rocked to and fro in misery. Hot scalding tears had fallen from his pain-glazed eyes and his lips had trembled with each of her hysterical sobs echoing through the forest. But he’d had no choice but to close his eyes and heart against the anguish he’d unleashed.

He’d begged for strength and ignored her pleas, her heart-wrenching cries. He’d had no choice. Over and over he’d told himself that he had no choice. All he’d had to offer the white girl was freedom. The alternative would have been a betrayal to the love they’d shared, which, in turn, would have bred hate.

High on the ridge, he’d watched until she’d finally quieted, her silence more unnerving than her screams. He’d sunk to the hard ground and shared her pain. That day, that scene, was forever etched in his mind and heart, his own silent pain.

Two nights later, a sliver of moon floated high above the darkened world. Glittering stars peppered the blackened sky as beams of glowing light fell to the silent earth below.

Tall trees and thick bushes caught the night rays and held them, spreading shadows across the land. Concealed within one of many deep shadows came a slight movement. Hidden by darkness, the nearly invisible shape crouched low, darting from shadow to shadow.

Peering intently, dark eyes scanned the sleeping village. Seeing no movement, Wild-Flower continued to sneak away from the sleeping village.

Reaching a horse hidden a distance away, she reached out and stroked the quivering flesh, her voice softly reassuring the animal with soothing words. The voice was so soft that anyone about would have taken it for the breeze whispering to the trees.

Wild-Flower knelt, gently picked up each hoof and covered it with squares of rawhide. Standing, she picked up a coiled length of rawhide rope made from cutting the hide of a buffalo in a spiral from outside to center. She formed a lead and led the horse away from the village. As she kept to the shadows, the well-trained horse she’d named Flying Dove quietly followed her beloved mistress.

Stopping only to pick up some supplies hidden deep in a hollowed tree, Wild-Flower mounted. Horse and rider trotted off, slowly at first, increasing their pace as they felt safe to do so.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Wild-Flower refrained from voicing her elation over her success in getting away from her father. Keeping Flying Dove to a slow, controlled pace, she thought over her plan once again. A twig snapped under the hooves, bringing Wild-Flower back to the task at hand.

Giving all her attention to picking her way through trees and bushes, Wild-Flower watched and avoided breaking branches. She did not want to leave an obvious trail.

She guided her horse and watched the trail she’d chosen in front of her. The horse’s hooves encased in rawhide helped cover any prints left behind and muffle any noises.

Her father would be furious, but she could not marry Golden Eagle when her heart belonged to another. Since her confrontation with White Cloud, they had not spoken. Even her mother had shown her silent displeasure. She had spent all of yesterday making her preparations. And last night she’d simply announced to her mother that her monthly was upon her and gone off to the women’s lodge.

As she’d known from checking earlier, the lodge was empty. Her plan was so simple. Away from her family, it would be easy to sneak out of the village, go to Red Fox and convince him to elope with her. They only had to stay away a few weeks.

And as had happened to her grandfather, when she and Red Fox returned, both tribes would consider them married. It was something that didn’t often happen, but Wild-Flower was desperate. Surely, this time there would be no bloodshed. Golden Eagle wouldn’t allow it. With her out of the way, Golden Eagle and Sarah would then be free to join.

She and Golden Eagle would then convince her father and Chief Hawk Eyes that marriage between their families was not necessary.

Keeping an eye open for possible dangers, Wild-Flower shoved thoughts of Red Fox aside. She needed to stay alert. It would not do for her to come upon an enemy camp unexpectedly.

When the sun showed its face, Wild-Flower, now tired and exhausted, increased her pace. Already she had many hours’ head start, but dared not stop yet. During the long day, she stopped only to feed and water her horse. She ate little herself as she was anxious to get as far as she could before the sun lowered.

When nightfall came, Wild-Flower stopped. Unloading her few possessions, she cared for Flying Dove, then took her mat and threw it to the hard ground. Sitting with some dried meat, Wild-Flower ate hungrily. Tonight she would rest. She should reach Red Fox’s tribe by evening tomorrow. She knew from years of visits approximately where they would be at this time. Each year a tribe moved in the same basic pattern unless nature or the white man intervened.

Wild-Flower rolled out her mat and decided to rest for a few hours, her mind dreamily focused on Red Fox. What was he doing? Closing her eyes, she wished he was there beside her. She remembered the few short hours spent in his loving arms. Sighing, she turned on her side, weariness bringing sleep.

It was early evening of her second night when Wild-Flower arrived near Golden Eagle’s village. She hid her horse high in the hills, finding a cave with a wide mouth that would accommodate both of them until she was able to let Red Fox know of her presence. Stealthily, she made her way down the canyon, toward the neatly laid-out tipis.

Concealing herself, Wild-Flower sat and watched the activities from a distance, but grew worried as there seemed to be no sign of Red Fox or Golden Eagle. She silently groaned in frustration as she realized that many were missing. Her sharp gaze fell on the results of the buffalo hunt and she had her answer. She buried her head in her hands. “Oh, Red Fox, you can’t be on a buffalo hunt,” she sighed aloud. She knew too well how long he could be away if that was the case. Lifting her head, she carefully studied the small group of warriors sitting around a large fire. When Chief Hawk Eyes joined them, hope rose in her heart that the others would return soon. It would not take long for her father to reach the village.

Walking to the cave, Wild-Flower prepared to bed down. Tonight, she’d sleep and rise early to watch for her love’s return. She would also have to find another secure place in case her father showed up tomorrow.

Lying on their backs, heads pillowed by their hands, Golden Eagle and Red Fox bedded down under the same canopy of stars. The buffalo had fled, but not until the skilled warriors had taken down two huge males. The last of the dried meat had been packed and they had traveled since dawn that day. Tomorrow, they would rejoin their friends and family. Most of the hunting party had returned with the chief several days ago.

Watching the twinkling sky above him, Golden Eagle found himself eager to return to White Wind. He still found it incredible to believe that he would soon become a father. His fingers twitched. He was eager to feel his child grow and kick from within White Wind’s womb.

Glancing sideways, he noticed Red Fox was still awake. So far, his friend had not made mention of his feelings toward Wild-Flower. He decided to test the waters. “It was
a successful hunt, my friend. You shall have a nice warm robe for the winter months this year,” Golden Eagle said in praise.

Red Fox turned his bead to Golden Eagle. “The spirits were with me when I shot my arrows,” he commented, his voice laced with pride. When the women cut into the fallen buffalo, they first removed the arrow that had killed the beast so all would know who had made the brave kill.

“Red Fox will have many hides to give to his wife when he marries,” Golden Eagle stated innocently.

Red Fox grunted. “I have no use for another hide. I shall give it away.”

“It would make a fine winter robe for Wild-Flower, would it not?” Golden Eagle asked, peering through the darkness. He watched Red Fox take the bait and bolt upright with indignation, his mouth opening before he closed it and remained silent.

Golden Eagle also sat and spoke quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb others sleeping nearby. His friend’s reaction was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. “Wild-Flower and I will not marry, Red Fox. Golden Eagle takes as mate the one meant to be his soul mate. He shall marry White Wind.”

Red Fox stared dumbfounded. “What of your father and Chief White Cloud. Have they agreed to this?” His voice quivered with suppressed eagerness.

Golden Eagle noticed the spark of interest creep into Red Fox’s voice despite his casual question. Cocking his head, Golden Eagle confided, “Wild-Flower and I talked before she left to return to her village. It seems she has also given her heart to another. We both agreed that it would not be right for us to marry.”

Golden Eagle tipped his head to the side. “I think that warrior is you, Red Fox. Is it not?”

Red Fox straightened and met Golden Eagle’s knowing gaze. Warrior to warrior, only one secret stood between them. Golden Eagle leaned forward and announced, “White Wind carries my child. Soon I will be a father, Red Fox.”

Expecting congratulations, Golden Eagle rose to his knees with concern when he heard choking sounds coming from Red Fox. Leaning closer, Golden Eagle saw sweat beading upon his friend’s high forehead. He thumped Red Fox between his wide bronzed shoulders and stared into stricken depths. Understanding dawned when Red Fox reddened with guilt and shame.

“I was expecting congratulations, my friend. One would think you were the one to discover he had fathered a child,” Golden Eagle jeered softly before punching Red Fox in the arm, knocking him to the side.

Recovering from the playful punch and unexpected announcement, Red Fox smacked Golden Eagle in return. The two warriors laughed together and after a few moments of horseplay, much of the tension washed away.

Red Fox was the first to recover. “Don’t be so smug, my friend. Yes, I am the one Wild-Flower loves, as I love her. But none of us is free to marry who we wish.” Tipping his head to the sky, he grinned and gave his friend another playful punch.

Laughing, the two wrestled for a bit as they had when they were just young braves. Tired, they both lay back to gaze at the star-studded sky.

“So, the mighty Eagle is going to become a father, eh. Congratulations, friend.” Holding out his hand, Red Fox grasped Golden Eagle’s in a firm handhold. Serious again, he sighed. “Let us hope all works out for us.”

Lying back down, Golden Eagle reassured him. “It will. It has to,” he declared. “For both our sakes.”

Harry swallowed several colorful curses as he felt the sharp sting of yet another bite. Unable to stand it, he gave in to the irresistible urge and swatted the nasty insect. Thank God it was nearing dawn. Just a bit longer and he would be able to return to his camp.

Harry closed his eyes, wishing he were far away from this hateful place. No amount of money was worth living this close to danger. He’d give this job a few more days, then he was heading out. Old Willy could sit here and do his own dirty work.

Willy and the brothers had arrived two days ago. Willy had become mean as a she-bear with young when he’d seen for himself that there was no way to get into the closely guarded village during the day.

Hank, Red and even Tom had joined Harry in standing up to Willy. He was crazy, they told him, if he thought they could just enter the village and walk out with the girl, even with many of their warriors gone. Willy’s face had turned beet-red with fury when they further explained that if he wanted to go into the village after Sarah, he would have to do it alone. No one was worth dying that kind of death.

Willy had no choice. They would have to wait for Sarah to leave the village before they could attempt to snatch her.

But each time Sarah left the security of the village, she was accompanied by at least two or more armed braves or warriors.

“Sure,” Harry had said, “we could kill them Injuns with her.” But he knew if they weren’t careful, one slip, one scream on her part, and the alarm would be sounded. They wouldn’t have a chance in hell of making it out of these hills alive.

As he rubbed his whisker-stubbed face, disappointment over another wasted night left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth. During the last week, before Willy’s arrival, he’d seen the girl rise early to wander the village.

Swatting at another buzzing insect, Harry decided to head for camp. He was hungry and dead tired. Daylight would soon break. “Damn,” he fumed, “I ain’t gonna sit here this close to them Injuns. It’s time to get outta here.” He’d rather face Willy’s wrath than a mob of savages. As he turned to crawl away, a slight movement in the village caught his eyes.

Dawn was still a few hours away, but for Sarah, getting any more sleep would prove fruitless and a waste of time. Each morning she woke long before the others with her stomach churning. Walking in the cool early morning seemed to help a bit.

Absently, she fingered the necklace with her treasured eagle and locket. She’d combined both the finger-smoothed eagle and her locket onto the leather thong with Golden Eagle’s blue beads. She knew part of her sleeplessness arose from her anticipation of Golden Eagle’s return. The rest of the hunting party should return sometime today. Already the preparations for the feasting had begun.

Deep in thought, Sarah wandered close to the thick grove of trees that blocked the entrance to their village. Eagerly anticipating Golden Eagle’s arrival later that day, she never realized that she’d left the safety of the inner village and had gotten too close to the one unprotected side.

When a slight noise from behind penetrated her daydreaming mind, alerting her to possible danger, it was too late. From behind, a large dirty hand closed around her
mouth, silencing her cry of fear. Held firmly against her unknown attacker and dragged a short distance up the canyon, Sarah fought, not knowing that the warrior who had been guarding the narrow entrance to the village lay unconscious beneath the bushes.

Sarah struggled and kicked, managing to trip her captor, sending them both down into the dirt. His grunt of pain filled her ears, but still Sarah could not free her mouth to scream for help. Arms banded around her chest and lifted her once more. She tried to resist being dragged farther away from the people she now regarded as “her people.”

Harry struggled to keep his hold on the wildly kicking and struggling girl in his arms. He grunted, and nearly dropped her a second time when a vicious fingernail made contact with his face, just barely missing his eye.

Harry kept his hand firmly over sharp teeth that were trying to take a hunk out of his hand. Swearing aloud as teeth made contact with flesh, he shoved her roughly to the rocky and twig-laden ground, following to land on top of her twisting body.

Her attacker raised his hand and struck Sarah with his huge meaty fist. Reeling from the blow while struggling to retain consciousness and fight the nausea, Sarah ran out of strength to fight or scream. Her attacker bound and gagged her. She felt herself flung over bulky shoulders before darkness overcame her.