Wild Splendor (4 page)

“There is no one woman that I can call mine in my life,” he said. “Without a woman, a man is not complete.”

He leaned so close that his breath was warm on Leonida's lips. “The man you have chosen. Does your heart agree to this choice?” he asked in barely a whisper, yet it echoed over and over again within her, for she could tell that he was feeling much more than what he was saying.

And so was she.

She knew that it was useless to allow her feelings to go any further than this, for tomorrow he would hate all white people, her included.

“I don't know how to answer your question,” she said, seemingly swallowed whole by her thunderous heartbeats.

She jumped with alarm when someone came upon them from behind. She wrenched herself away from Sage, then laughed softly and relaxed when she found sweet and frail Pure Blossom standing there, the squash blossom necklace held between her hands.

“Yours,” Pure Blossom said, holding the necklace over toward Leonida. “Take. Please take and keep.”

In her mind's eye Leonida was recalling the very instant when Harold had taken the necklace from her. It gave her much pleasure that she was being given a second chance to have it,
and
to defy him at the same time.

“It is so lovely,” Leonida said as Pure Blossom draped it across her fingers, then stepped back, smiling from ear to ear.

Leonida turned to Sage. “I know that your sister speaks good enough English, but how can I say ‘thank you' to her in Navaho?” she asked.

“Thank you is not usually spoken in words, but performed instead with deeds,” Sage said, then smiled. “But you are not Navaho. You can say
Uke-he
to my sister.”

Leonida turned back, smiling. “
Uke-he
, Pure Blossom,” she murmured.

Flattered, Pure Blossom nodded, then ran back to the campsite and joined the others.

“Your sister is so sweet,” Leonida said, admiring the necklace.

“All of my people are good,” Sage said, then took the necklace from Leonida's hands and stepped behind her. Leonida could not help but tremble when his fingers touched her neck as he fastened the necklace.

When he stepped around in front of her again, his fingers now on her shoulders, Leonida's breath was stolen as he moved his lips toward hers, his dark eyes burning like fire. As his lips covered hers in a quivering, lingering kiss, everything within her seemed to blend into something sweet and wonderful.

Yet, fearing these tumultuous feelings, knowing that Sage would soon be gone, she wrenched herself free and quickly mounted her horse and rode away before he had a chance to ask her why.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she knew that she would never forget the hurtful questioning in his eyes as she rode away. It was as though she was the one who was going to betray him, or even that she may have already been guilty of it.

Her hair loose and flying in the wind, her silk dress hiked past her knees, Leonida bent low and rode hard out into the open, away from the creek, away from the wondrous, sweet sounds of night, and away from the man that she now knew she loved with all of her heart and soul.

“Why?” she cried to the heavens. “Why did I ever have to meet him? Why did I have to fall in love?”

Her heart seemed to drop to her feet when she caught sight of a horseman riding toward her in the distance.

“Harold,” she gasped, drawing the reins tightly. As her horse skittered to a sudden stop, she tried to straighten her hair, and then her skirt, dreading the questions and even more the answers that she might have to give him.

While she tried to make herself more presentable, her fingers came in contact with the necklace, and she groaned.

“I will not allow him to remove it from my neck twice,” she finally decided, lifting her chin stubbornly.

She gave him a cold look of defiance when he wheeled his horse to a stop beside hers.

“What is the meaning of this?” he said in a feral snarl, frowning at her. “Where the hell have you been? And look at you. You look like some wild thing, your hair all blown, your lovely dress all wrinkled and soiled.”

She refused to tell him where she had been, or with whom, knowing that it was enough for him to know that she had fled because of what he was planning with Kit Carson and the others.

She saw him turn pale and his eyes widen with horror when he discovered the necklace around her neck. “My God, woman, isn't that the same necklace . . . ?” he said.

He reached a hand toward her to yank it off.

Leonida covered the necklace with her hand. She glared over at him. “Don't you dare,” she threatened, then rode away from him, at least for the moment smiling triumphantly.

Chapter4

. . . the sunflower turns to her god when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose.

—T
HOMAS
M
OORE

 

 

The mountain shapes were softer than the skies. Canyon wrens darted in and out of the mesquite, trilling their startling but melodious songs.

The smoke from the large outdoor fire curled skyward in the courtyard of the fort. Around it sat the many Indian leaders who had come to the fort for a council with Colonel Kit Carson and the leaders at the fort. Everyone was sitting in a wide circle around the fire, Leonida among them.

Dressed demurely in a plain cotton dress devoid of any trim, her hair drawn back with a ribbon, Leonida sat in silence, looking and absorbing, while a long-stemmed pipe was passed around the circle of men.

Leonida ignored the occasional angry glances that Harold sent her way; she had defied his orders to stay away from the meeting. She felt a trace of hope that the Indians would be given a choice of where they wanted to live instead of being automatically forced onto a reservation. She knew that the other Indians had been rounded up without notice and marched to the reservation, as the Apache had been forced to do. At least some semblance of respect was being shown the Navaho by first talking to them about it.

Also, she hoped to get to speak with Sage before he left, to apologize for her hasty retreat the night before. She now regretted it, for she had not slept a wink all night, worrying about what he must think of her to allow a kiss, then to flee from it. She could not let them part forever without telling him that she had not meant to lead him on, that she had true feelings for him, though telling him was perhaps foolish.

Her heart pounding at the prospect of allowing herself another glance across the fire, Leonida lifted her eyes slowly. She could not stop the thrill that enveloped her when she gazed at length at Sage again. He was dressed in his finest clothes. A striped blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and belted at his waist. His deerskin moccasins reached to his knees, his tight breeches were slit down the side and edged with silver buttons shining in the sun. A red silk handkerchief was tied around his brow to hold his sleek black hair in place.

As he looked her way and she discovered that he seemed indifferent, she flinched and turned quickly away, shame overwhelming her.

Soon, unless the plans had changed, Sage's eyes would fill with feelings, those of hate and anger, directed toward her as well as Kit Carson and those responsible for the fate of his people, for she was white, as were they, soon to be Sage's enemies.

Fighting back tears of frustration, shame, and hurt, Leonida lifted her chin and stared ahead, not resting her gaze on any one thing. She crossed her legs on the ground before her and stiffened her arms, placing her palms on her knees, gripping them so hard that the flesh of her fingertips turned ghostly white. She swallowed hard and began dying a slow death inside when the conversations began and grew more heated as each moment passed.

Nothing was in the Indians' favor.

Leonida grimaced as she listened to the debate between the two factions of men, Kit Carson and Sage now the main speakers.

Kit's voice became measured and calculated.

Sage's became cold, his face grim with anger as he rose to his full height over the circle of men, towering over Kit, who moved over to stand next to him as their debate heated up even more.

Leonida smiled, somehow pleased that Sage was so much taller than Kit. It was a well-known fact that he was the runt of fourteen Carson children, and when he was sitting down he always tried to conceal his short legs.

“Damn it, Sage,” Kit said in his soft-spoken way. “You know I've always been sympathetic to Indians. But now I've got to think of the settlers. The settlements and ranches are being raided. Caravans are being plundered. Travelers are being killed. To stop the raids,
all
Indians must be transferred out of the territory, even the Navaho.”

“You know that the Navaho do not go to war as a whole nation,” Sage said, angrily folding his arms across his powerful chest. “It is the renegades who raid. There is no central Navaho government, and the chiefs speak only for their tiny bands.” He paused, then added more softly, “Sage has never wanted trouble with whites,” he said solemnly. “Sage's heart has been good toward the whites. So has Sage's people's heart.”

Kit Carson shifted his feet nervously and stroked his clean-shaven chin in contemplation before responding, the fringe of his buckskin shirt and breeches blowing in the gentle breeze. Then Kit placed a fist over his heart, as though to prove to Sage that his heart was good also.

“Sage, you know that not long ago I was an Indian agent at Taos when escaped convicts, thugs, and outlaws of every description were pouring into the West,” he said softly. “There the laws were few and the enforcement agencies fewer. You know that then I was as determined to protect the Indians from the whites as to protect whites from Indians. When a white man injured an Indian, he had Kit Carson to deal with, and that dealing was sharp and to the point.”

Harold, dressed in full uniform, got hurriedly to his feet and interrupted just as Sage was about to respond. With an even and impersonal voice, he stamped over to Kit's side and glared down at him. “Get on with it, damn it,” he said. “We didn't come here to play footsie with the Indians. Tell them exactly why they have been brought here.”

Harold peered up at the blazing sun and wiped beads of perspiration from his brow. He wiped his damp fingers on his breeches leg, glaring down at Kit again. “Damn it, Kit, why drag it out to ungodly lengths?” he said, his voice drawn. “I'd like to get out of this damn sun.”

Kit's face became hot with anger as he glared back. “I've been brought here to handle this matter,” he said icily. “And I will do it at my own pace and in my own way. If you don't approve, wire Washington about it. Until you get a response, though, and perhaps a replacement, I will deal with this problem as I see fit.”

Harold's face tightened and his lips pursed angrily. He glared for a moment longer down at Kit, then swung around and moved in measured steps away from him, his eyes shifting momentarily to Leonida. He flinched when he found Leonida smiling devilishly up at him, having obviously enjoyed Kit's reprimanding him. His eyes narrowed as he paused long enough to stare at the Indian necklace that she wore so boldly around her neck.

There had been only one way—the damned Navaho leader. The thought of them being alone together made him grow cold inside with rage. He vowed to himself that never would it be allowed to happen again. He would marry Leonida now, even if he had to hold a gun to her head to get the words out of her. No Indian would humiliate him by taking his woman away from him.

Yet Harold had known for some time now that Leonida had changed her mind, that she was not planning to marry him. Ever since her father's death she had been biding her time until it became safe to travel again. She had promised to marry him only to please her father.

And now he was gone.

“What is that you have to say that has not yet been spoken today to Sage and the other leaders who have come to your fort, as requested, for council?” Sage asked, taking a step closer to Kit. Sage felt the eyes of all the Indian leaders on him, trusting that in the end he would make all wrongs right for them. He had been their spokesperson for many moons now and had achieved peace between them all and the white chief in Washington.

“As I said before, Sage,” Kit said, “the raiding must not be allowed to go on. A new home has been provided for the Navaho. There will be land for grazing, good flat land for farming, and a big irrigation ditch.”

As Sage's eyes narrowed with anger, Kit cleared his voice and continued. “It's time for this empty land to be turned into wheat fields and grazing grounds to produce food for the country,” he said, his voice low now. “So many Indians often do not produce but only use what the wild land gives. This is why they—why
you
—are being asked to make room for the settlers, who will use the land in the right way. It is the only way, Sage. Your people must move into reservation land called Indian Territory, in the country east of New Mexico.”

The sudden silence, the hush that washed over the group of Indians, made Leonida suck in a wild, horrified breath of air. She looked guardedly around her as the Indian leaders rose angrily to their feet. Though weaponless, they still looked threatening as they moved closer to the soldiers who had seemed to have come out of nowhere to make a wide circle around the council of men, their hands resting on their holstered pistols.

Her knees weak, Leonida pushed herself up from the ground and inched away from the Indians, her gaze never leaving Sage. Never had she seen anyone as controlled in his anger as he. She was proud of his ability to restrain himself from lashing out at those who were intent at imprisoning him and all of the Navaho people alike. She watched, breathlessly, as he began to speak, his voice calm and collected.

“What you say is wrong, is
hogay-gahn,
bad,” Sage said. “The white man does not stand alone in this problem. Our cattle as well as sheep are also being stolen. Find the renegades responsible, then peace will again be achieved between the Navaho and white people.”

“That is not the way it is to be,” Kit said. “It has been decided that all Navaho will settle on the reservation. There you will have a good life. I give you my word, Sage.” He reached out a hand of friendship.

Sage's jaw tightened and he stiffened his back. He gestured with a hand toward the wide sweep of land that surrounded him. “
Tinishten,
as far as a man can see, the land belongs to the Navaho,” he said. “The Navaho love their land. We have lived here for five hundred years or more.
E-do-tano,
no, the Navaho cannot leave this land. They will be here,
Sa-a-nari,
living forever,
ka-bike-hozhoni-bi,
happy evermore.”

Tears flooded Leonida's eyes, her heart breaking as she listened to Sage's pleas. She knew they were falling on deaf ears. In her mind's eye, she imagined Pure Blossom weaving her blankets, so innocent and unthreatening, soon to be confined to land that was foreign to her.

In her mind's eye, she saw Sage sitting on a high knoll, watching his horse grazing peacefully, smoke spiraling from his fancy long-stemmed pipe.

She did not expect him or his sister ever to have such peaceful moments again.

Kit Carson started to speak, but Sage stopped him and continued his plea, his voice tight.

“The Navaho, who call themselves
Dineh,
meaning ‘The People,' need lots of space,” he said. “A great many Navaho are shepherds, and their flocks must have great areas in which to graze. Others are ranchers and farmers. They need space too. If placed on reservation, there won't be enough grass to feed the sheep and goats and cattle. The Navaho will become poor,
very
poor.”

Kit lifted his chin and placed his hand on his holstered pistol. “I don't like this any more than you do,” he said solemnly. “But what must be done must be done, and I hope it can be achieved in as peaceful a fashion as possible. Sage, if you and the others will surrender and promise to go to the reservation, you will have rations until you get started in your new life.” He cleared his throat nervously, then added, “You will travel to the reservation peacefully, or by force.”

There was another strained silence. The heat in Sage's look stung Leonida's heart as he gave her a quick glance. In his eyes was such hatred, such torment.

She covered her mouth with her hands as he stared down at Kit again and said a loud, determined
“E-do-ta,”
which she knew meant no.

Another Navaho leader appeared beside Sage. “The Navaho nation is as powerful as whites,” he said stiffly. “They will stay and raise sheep. Now.
Always.
If war is needed, the Navaho will scatter like birds into the canyons and among the rocks until you come. Then we will kill, if forced to.”

Leonida's heart was scarcely beating as she watched Sage stoop to one knee before the fire, his disgust and disapproval of the white man's plans evident in his face. She gasped when Sage angrily picked up a handful of sand and tossed it into the fire, which was a way for the Navaho to show the extent of their anger. Then he rose to his full height to leave.

But just before he went, he gave Leonida a stern, then a wavering stare. He walked away at a slow, dignified pace, and the other leaders followed him.

Everything within Leonida made her want to run after Sage and apologize for the white people's inhumanity toward his people, but she knew that even she was now perhaps hated by him. She wiped tears from her eyes as Sage mounted his chestnut stallion and rode slowly away.

Then suddenly, with everyone following him, Sage kicked his horse into a hard gallop, shrieking,
“Ei-yei.”

Harold hurried to Kit Carson's side. “Send the men after them,” he shouted, his pistol drawn, taking aim at Sage's back. “Don't let them get away.”

Kit placed a firm hand on Harold's firearm and lowered it to his side. “No, we're not going to do anything as hasty as that,” he said, frowning. “We've got to give them a chance to think this through more carefully. They'll come around. They'll change their mind.”

“And if they don't?” Harold said, slipping his pistol back into his holster.

Kit didn't answer, just gave him a grim, sad look.

The sound of the Navaho horses' hooves riding toward the mountains was like distant thunder, matching the vibrations of Leonida's pounding heart as she shielded her eyes with a hand and found Sage at the lead of those fleeing the injustices of the white man.