White Flame

by Susan Edwards

  Hand in hand, the girls skipped back toward their village. Rounding a bend in the river, both girls stopped when they saw Golden Eagle and White Wind taking a stroll in the moonlight.

  The adults frowned in unison. “It is late, too late to be wandering,” White Wind admonished in her quiet voice.

  Renny gazed up at her with adoring eyes. “We were following my sister and Striking Thunder. We wanted to see if they were going to ki—”

  Morning Moon stepped on her foot.

  “Hey—” Catching her friend’s glare, she closed her mouth.

  Golden Eagle speared them both with his sharp gaze. “Return to your tipi.”

  Hearing the authority in his voice, Renny didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Morning Moon’s hand and pulled her into a run. While she adored White Wind, she wasn’t so sure about the woman’s husband. He looked much too serious all the time.

  Behind them, Golden Eagle chuckled. “That one is full of spirit and will cause much mischief.”

  White Wind sighed. “She and Morning Moon remind me of Winona and Little Bird. Your little sister was forever getting into trouble and Little Bird just seemed to be there. Much like Morning Moon.”

  Golden Eagle smiled at his wife’s wistful tone and understood. “Come spring, I will take you to visit my sister and her family.” He pulled her into his arms. “Let us walk.” He indicated a different direction than the one his son had taken. “I feel in the mood to share the moon and stars with my wife.”

  White Wind smiled coyly. “Only the moon and stars, my husband?”

  With a low, throaty growl, Golden Eagle swept her into his arms, his strides long and hurried.

  Beneath those very same stars, Emma lay satisfied and happy. Maybe she’d been too hard on Striking Thunder. After all, he had made sure Renny was safe. Not just safe, she conceded, but happy and content. From her talks with her sister, Emma knew Renny had not wanted for anything, nor had she ever been mistreated. And though she didn’t agree with Striking Thunder’s reasons for keeping her in the dark, he had provided for her sister. Finally, with a sigh of relief, Emma let her anger go. It was just too taxing on the spirit and soul.

  Emma snuggled closer to Striking Thunder. He nuzzled her neck.

  “You will share my mat now.”

  Tipping her chin up, Striking Thunder kissed her long and slow. Breathless, she traced the fullness of his lower lip with the tip of one finger. “Are you asking or telling me?”

  Striking Thunder frowned. “Does it matter?”

  Though it didn’t, as she’d already planned to forgive him, Emma wanted to see what he’d say. “Choices are important.”

  Striking Thunder sat and pulled her up with him. “Then I will ask. Will you share my mat and let me love you? Will you greet this warrior with a smile when he returns home each night?”

  Though there was much still unresolved between them, Emma felt her heart swell with love. “Yes, I’ll share your mat and more. I’ll share your life.” Risking the words, she added, “I love you. Striking Thunder.”

  Silence. Emma feared she’d ruined the peace between them, but his features softened in the moonlight.

  “You are the flame of my heart.” He pulled her on top of him. “Love me. Make me yours forever, my love, my wasicun winyan.”

  Emma pushed him down and slid her body over his. Her lips rested on his. “Yes, my tekihila. My love. This white woman is yours.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Spring crept across the land. Tiny green blades of grass pushed through the wet earth, prairie dogs scampered, played and groomed themselves beneath the golden sun spreading its warmth across a land eager for the change of seasons.

  The promise of renewal lifted the spirits of the people who lived off the land as well. Laughter and excitement replaced dreary frowns, and those who’d fallen ill over the winter and survived felt a lightening in their spirits.

  One such woman, Weyanna, whose name meant Little Woman, greeted Emma with a smile that split her aged face in two.

  Emma reached out and greeted the old woman, thankful to see that her eyes were considerably brighter beneath their drooping lids. “Hau, Uncl. Toniktuka he?” In halting Lakota, Emma asked her how she was feeling.

  Little Woman lifted a thin, wrinkled hand in greeting. “Mabliheca yelo.”

  Kneeling, Emma helped her to sit. “I am glad you are feeling better,” she whispered. Over the winter, she’d grown fond of the widowed woman who’d fallen ill. Balancing a bowl of rich broth, greens and fresh meat, Emma spooned the nourishing meal to the old woman who ate with more appetite than before.

  Emma would never forget coming to check on her and finding her on the floor, her frail body wracked with fever. For a month, she’d helped Dove, whose knowledge of herbs made her the tribe’s healer, nurse her, staying with her long into the night

  With a strong will, Little Woman had made a painfully slow recovery. And as a result, they’d formed a bond. Emma thought of her as her uncl, her grandmother, and Little Woman now called her cunksi, daughter.

  Setting the nearly empty bowl down, Emma went to a pile of furs and picked up a large, soft robe—one she’d fashioned for Weyanna over the long bleak winter days. She settled it around the woman’s frail shoulders, then helped her outside where she made her comfortable on another pile of furs waiting in the warm sunlight. Seeing that she was settled and her friends were already approaching for a spot of gossip, Emma left.

  A group of girls ran past. Renny, among them, stopped and held out a miniature tipi and said something in Lakota. Emma only recognized a couple of words and shook her head. Her sister had definitely picked up the language faster than she had.

  “Would you care to try English first, then repeat what you said, slowly?”

  Renny giggled. “I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t even think. But look at what White Wind gave me. My very own tipi. I get to paint it myself, too! And when I play with the other girls, I’ll have my own toys.”

  In her arms, she carried a doll Star Dreamer had shown Emma how to make. She and Renny had celebrated Christmas on their own, as close to the day as Emma could figure. Her sister had given Emma a leather bracelet, which she never took off.

  “Gotta go, Em. Bye.” In a rush, Renny ran to catch up with the others.

  A low, throaty chuckle sounded close to Emma’s ear. Striking Thunder’s strong hands pulled her against his hard chest. “Weshawee is happy?”

  “Yes, Renny is happy.”

  Together they watched the girl run after Black Cloud; the bird had snatched her doll from the ground beside the miniature tipi. Emma laughed. “I should have used black hair.”

  Striking Thunder chuckled and fingered her red braids.

  “And you, Emma? Are you happy?”

  Taking a minute to consider his question, Emma glanced around. Five months ago, she’d have laughed at the very thought that she could be happy out here with these people, but surprisingly, she was.

  No. Not just happy. Content. Little Woman had become a part of her adopted family, and Star, an older sister. And Striking Thunder? He’d become her mate. He was all the things she’d ever yearned for. Kind and caring, even if a bit arrogant, he was a good provider, and most of all, he was her companion. Someone she could talk to and share her thoughts with.

  Emma’s lips curved and her hands slid down her dress to rest on her belly. If she was right in her suspicions, he’d given her a child of her own.

  Striking Thunder gripped her a little harder as if anxious for her reply. “You take so long to answer. This warrior fears you are not happy.”

  Resting the back of her head against his shoulder, she smiled. “I am happy. Very happy.”

  Striking Thunder wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her cheek with his. “Perhaps you would care to return to our tipi. This warrior might know how to make his woman even happier.”

  Emma turned in his arms. “I think it is my turn to make you happy.” She leaned forward and whispered in
his ear what she wanted to do to him when they reached their tipi.

  His eyes sparkled in anticipation. “Only if I get to do the same to you, kiyapi kahaha kin.”

  With a sigh, Emma leaned forward. She loved it when he called her “Flame of My Heart” and prayed it was so.

  One person in all of Striking Thunder’s tribe resented the obvious love between their chief and the white woman. Tanagila couldn’t understand why Striking Thunder preferred the white woman over her. Reaching the river, she knelt to refill the water pouches.

  With her father and brother bringing pressure for her to accept Tatankaota’s marriage proposal, her time was running out. To stall her father, brother and the persistent warrior, she’d agreed to think on his latest offer but in reality, she needed the time to figure out a way to get rid of the white girl. She’d almost succeeded last time but Striking Thunder had recovered the woman. No one knew of her role in Emma’s flight.

  Standing on the bank, she watched the swollen river rush past. Overhead, the night stars winked down at her and night sounds surrounded her. The peace calmed her somewhat, as did the clear notes of a flute in the distance. Some warrior was courting a maiden.

  She closed her eyes, giving herself over to the magic of the night, pretending it was Striking Thunder who played a love melody to woo her. The music grew louder, the notes more sensual. Tipping her head back, she swayed in response.

  When the last note died away, she sighed. So entranced was she, she never heard Tatankaota approach. “When we are man and wife, I will play for you every night.”

  Jarred back to reality, dismayed to have found herself responding to the magic of his flute, Tanagila moved away. “I have made no decision.”

  The warrior put the flute to his lips and sent another string of notes floating across the land. When he stood close, he dropped the hand holding the wooden instrument so he could lean forward and draw her to him with his other arm. He smiled gently then lowered his head and kissed her.

  His touch, the warmth of his mouth against hers, weakened her resolve not to have anything to do with him.

  Finally, he lifted his head. “You will agree. Already you are mine. Your heart knows this and soon, your mind will also learn.”

  Breathing hard, she backed away. “Do not be so sure. There is much for me to consider.”

  “If you are waiting for our chief, you will wait long. His heart belongs to the white girl. All others see this.”

  Tanagila narrowed her eyes. She hated hearing the truth from him. “It won’t last. Soon, he will return her to her people.”

  “So naive you are, my darling hummingbird. He will not release her. And I do not think the woman wishes to leave. Now that her sister is among us, she is happy.” He grinned, looking very pleased.

  She tossed her head. “And how happy will she be when she learns our chief is nearly ready to take her father’s life, avenging my sister’s murder?’

  The warrior frowned. “This is her life now. She will understand.”

  Staring at the warrior who now made her heart thump wildly, Tanagila laughed. Did he really believe that? And more importantly, did Striking Thunder think he could kill the woman’s father and nothing would change? She sobered as a thought came to her.

  What if the white woman didn’t know? What if she, in her stupidity, actually thought Striking Thunder would give up his quest for revenge because of her? Her grin turned to a smirk. Yes, she would believe that. It was time for someone to inform the white girl of the facts.

  “What thoughts take you from me?” Tatankaota’s gaze searched hers.

  Schooling her features to hide her glee, she bent down and picked up the water pouches.

  “It is not proper for us to be out here alone. I must return to the tipi of my parents.” She walked past him. His hand snaked out and stopped her.

  “Do not think to cause mischief. The spirits have already chosen the next bride for our chief.”

  Standing on tiptoe, Tanagila brazenly pressed her lips to his to distract him. “This maiden has decided that you may walk her back.” With that, she swung around and headed toward the camp at a slow walk.

  Tatankaota, mesmerized by the teasing sway of her hips, the brush of her long hair against the gentle swell of her buttocks, forgot all else but her. Grinning from ear to ear, he put the flute to his lips. All who heard his music knew where his heart lay.

  Grady returned to the fort from his daily ride just before the gray clouds released their springtime burdens. He’d decided the time had come to renew his search for his daughters. March had arrived and soon, the extra men he’d requested would arrive, allowing Grady to form larger search parties. Though the fort was closing, he’d been given permission to remain a bit longer to search for his daughters.

  But before he headed back out into Sioux territory, he had some issues to settle. In his office, he sent Perkins to fetch Captain Sanders. While waiting, he pulled the lock of Emma’s hair from his pocket and stared at it. The captain was Emma’s only chance at a normal life after he found her—and he had no doubt that he would find her.

  It never occurred to him that Derek would refuse. He had several new assignments to tempt the captain. Nice, safe desk jobs in booming cities that offered all the amenities one might wish for. A knock sounded. “Enter,” he called out, tucking the precious lock of hair back into his pocket.

  Sanders entered and saluted smartly. Grady returned the salute and took his seat behind his desk. Instead of taking the chair opposite, the captain remained at attention, looking sharp as ever in a clean, neatly pressed uniform. His dedication to personal cleanliness was just one aspect of the man Grady admired. The other was the man’s determination to progress through the ranks.

  Though it was no secret that Derek wanted command of the fort, and didn’t know that soon the fort would close, Grady hoped to make it up to him with a nice promotion and a large dowry. Pointing to the chair, Grady ordered, “Sit, Captain. This is an informal meeting.”

  Derek lowered himself into the chair but did not relax his body. “What did you want to see me about, Colonel?”

  “You’re a good soldier, Captain. I don’t know that I could have managed to keep things running here without your help.”

  “Only normal, sir, considering what has happened. You know I want to help. We will find your daughters.”

  But in what shape? Grady worried, his gut twisting with renewed fear. With his knowledge of Indians, he didn’t fear for his youngest. She was a child and most of the Sioux tribes would not harm an innocent child. No. It was his elder daughter’s fate that gave him nightmares. Just thinking about what he might find made him break out in a cold sweat.

  “I won’t beat around the bush, Captain. You know as well as I what Emma faces when we find her.” He speared Derek with his worried gaze. “If word gets out that she spent the winter as a captive, her life will be in ruins.”

  Derek didn’t hesitate. “You know how I feel, Colonel. We will marry as planned. There won’t be any reason for anyone to know.”

  Grady sat back in his seat, feeling a small measure of relief. “No one would blame you if you changed your mind.”

  Derek frowned. “Have you changed your mind?”

  Shocked, Grady leaned forward. “Good heavens, no. I just wanted to be sure of your feelings on this matter.”

  Derek looked him straight in the eyes. “My feelings have not changed.”

  “That is good,” Grady said. “Any word from the scouts yet as to where this Striking Thunder’s village might be found?”

  Derek shook his head. “No. I will continue to ride out and ask questions. No one around here knows or if they do, they won’t tell.”

  Grady stood. “Be careful, Captain.”

  “Yes, sir.” Derek stood and spun around sharply to leave. Then as if he’d thought of something, he hesitated at the door. “Colonel, it might be best for all concerned if Emma did not return to society for a while. After we’re married,
we could stay here.”

  Grady frowned, then understood. “We will see how she is when we find her. If she is overly distraught or not thinking right, I will bring in the best doctors.” He made a mental note to pull strings and leave enough soldiers here to guard his daughter if needed until she could return to St. Louis.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Derek saluted smartly, then left, ecstatic. Command of the fort was as good as his and soon, riches beyond his wildest dreams would follow. His lips twisted briefly into a grimace. If only there was a way to secure his position without having to take Emma as his wife for even a brief period.

  He’d hoped that the colonel would never learn where she was but that hope had died when the search party had returned two months ago. Chances were, once the search resumed, they’d find her alive. All they had to do was locate Striking Thunder’s village.

  But Derek was ready for Emma’s return. Yes, he’d marry her, and shortly after her father left for his new post, Emma would fall victim to an unfortunate accident or perhaps he would make it look as though she’d taken her own life. After all, it was common knowledge that captive woman sometimes went mad.

  Even though he had it all planned out, it bothered Derek that others would know he’d married soiled goods. Everyone knew he didn’t share his women. He didn’t relish being the center of the men’s ribald jokes and comments.

  Maybe he should convince the colonel to split the search, then Derek would have a chance of reaching her first and making sure she didn’t come back alive. If he found the colonel’s younger daughter, he would still remain in the man’s good graces. He knew of only one person who could take him to Striking Thunder’s village.

  Leaving the building, Derek hesitated when a group of soldiers rode up. They dismounted and one man, wearing the rank of sergeant, stopped in front of him and saluted.

  “Where can I find Colonel Grady O’Brien, Captain?”

  Derek indicated the door at his back. “In there. What is this regarding?”

  “I have a letter to deliver from headquarters.” The sergeant stepped close. “Y’all will be glad to know, the army is closing down this godforsaken fort. Wasted money spent on it. Not even a decent river landing.”