Follow The Stars Home

by Masters, Cate

  Not outwardly, she wanted to argue, but privately, their equal status was obvious. Confusion roiled through her head, but stubbornness won. “I will not marry if my husband won’t respect me.”

  Her fingers deftly lifting berries, Pretty Eagle spoke low but clear. “Flying Horse respects me, but it’s tradition for the man to decide for both.”

  Frustration made her halt her chore. “Why must it be so? I’m as smart as him. Maybe smarter.”

  “Yes. You’re intelligent, but maybe not so smart about some things.” Her mother’s lips curled in a sly smile.

  “What do you mean?”

  Pretty Eagle spoke quietly, though no one else was nearby. “You could let him believe he makes the decisions, but influence him to make decisions you want.”

  Quiet Thunder understood her mother wanted to help, so she nodded. She wouldn’t let Pretty Eagle know she couldn’t live the same way. She wanted to hold nothing back from Black Bear nor have him hold anything back from her.

  Pretty Eagle rose. “Follow your heart, daughter.”

  Quiet Thunder gazed toward the two horses galloping in the distance, their riders playing as they had since boyhood. For now, she would follow her mother.

  ****

  Sleep again eluded Quiet Thunder. Humidity hung in the air, making her dress cling. Through the opening at the top of the tipi, stars winked like flirtatious lovers. Their friendship brought no comfort. She forced her eyes closed, forced her breathing to slow. When she began to finally relax, the sound of the flute wound through the darkness.

  Anger bubbled inside her. Black Bear meant to lure her again. Make her change her mind with soft words and moist lips. Make her admit she’d missed those soft words and moist lips. Of course she had–she’d heard those words each night, wished for his lips upon hers. Admitting it wouldn’t resolve their differences, and wouldn’t make her forget why they’d argued.

  Maybe he meant to mock her with the flute. That must be it! Oh, she would teach him a lesson.

  She slid on her moccasins and slipped into the night. She’d humble him so he’d never dare mock her again. Time for him to leave his boyish habits and act like a man.

  A dog barked and trotted toward her. She shushed it and motioned it away. “Go.” It padded to a tipi and curled on the ground.

  The music of the night belonged again to the frogs–the flute had stopped. Was she too late?

  The flap to her tipi opened, and Pretty Eagle peered out, sleepy yet stern. “Quiet Thunder, what are you doing?”

  Her mind raced for an excuse. “I thought I heard a noise. It was just a dog.”

  “Then come back to bed.” Her mother opened the flap wide, waiting.

  She trudged back, her heart heavy.

  ****

  Rustling of leaves overhead made Black Bear pause. Beside him, Yellow Bird halted soundlessly and peered upward. A squirrel leapt from branch to branch, and disappeared from sight.

  Yellow Bird grunted. “This is a waste of time.”

  Scanning the forest, Black Bear saw no sign of movement, but walked on.

  “We should go back.”

  “Not yet.” He had no patience for his friend’s fickle nature today.

  “Will you settle for a crow, maybe?”

  Steeling his jaw, Black Bear said nothing. Lack of sleep made him feel ragged as an old blanket. Last night, his fingers wore the flute smooth with repeated playing of his song. Why hadn’t Quiet Thunder come? If her stubbornness cooled her heart, how true could her love be?

  Yellow Bird followed more slowly. “Where is my friend?”

  The question confused Black Bear, and irritated him. “What are you saying?” Anger spurred his feet faster.

  As he scurried to catch up, Yellow Bird said, “You walk and ride as always. You hunt with the same keen eye. But your spirit is elsewhere.”

  “I don’t want to discuss it.” His friend had little experience with women. Last year, Yellow Bird claimed to love the daughter of a head man. They’d met during a ceremony, but he stopped speaking of her as soon as the tribes separated. His friend knew nothing of lasting love.

  Matching his stride, Yellow Bird glanced over. “You shouldn’t rely on the siyotanka to bring her back to you.”

  “What?” Black Bear halted to glare, his hands clenched into fists. He’d spent a long time making the flute, and a longer time practicing.

  With wide eyes, Yellow Bird stepped back. “Talk to her.”

  The truth of his friend’s soft words cleared the haze from Black Bear’s mind. Releasing a ragged breath, he laughed. “Yes. You’re right.” The only way to mend the damage with Quiet Thunder was by confronting her. Talking to her, as Yellow Bird said.

  He shot a smile at his friend before heading back toward his horse.

  “What?”

  “You may grow to be a wise man yet.”

  Yellow Bird’s stride lengthened as he lifted his head high and grinned.

  ****

  Quiet Thunder sat beside Pretty Eagle as she stitched beads onto her finest doeskin dress. The porcupine quill snapped, and her mother sighed. “My best quill. My other isn’t strong enough for this work.”

  “I’ll look for new ones.” Quiet Thunder went to the tipi for her pouch and set off toward the trees. A village dog had returned yelping with a quill stuck in its nose. She hoped the porcupine left others behind.

  Besides, she’d spotted Black Bear and Yellow Bird heading this way earlier. If she could cross his path, maybe he would finally speak to her.

  Birds called, flitting from branch to branch as she walked beneath. Wide green leaves of forest plants hid much of the ground, making her search difficult. One quill lay broken near the stream, probably by an animal. No Lakota would waste such a needed item. She found two others, both strong and flexible.

  Rustling noises made her freeze. Her skin prickled as she touched the knife in her belt, though no wolf should be hunting before dark. She slipped behind a tree and listened. A low whistle sounded–no bird call. Curiosity overtook her and she eased away to scan the woods.

  The whistle came again, and she flicked her gaze in its direction.

  Eagle Elk. Stepping from behind a tree, he smiled as he lowered his hands from his mouth. “Do you need any help?”

  A wolf might have been preferable. He stared at her with the same uncomfortable intensity.

  “No. I’ve found what I need.” She walked the way she’d come, fast enough to let him know he wasn’t welcome to follow, but he did anyway.

  “What? Your pouch looks empty.”

  “It isn’t.” She hoped her short response would dissuade him.

  It didn’t. “I could carry it for you.”

  She increased her pace down the hill. “I need no help.”

  Hooves pounded toward them, and her heart leaped. Black Bear rode toward them, his brows furrowed. He slowed his horse, looking from her to Eagle Elk. He glanced at her pouch, and set his mouth in a hard line.

  Eagle Elk stepped toward him. “Have you been hunting?”

  Anger flared inside Quiet Thunder. He meant to insult Black Bear, who carried his bow and arrows, but no game.

  Black Bear narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I hunted in the wrong place.” He shifted his gaze to Quiet Thunder.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Eagle Elk spoke first.

  “The woods hold many treasures.” Eagle Elk smirked as his arm grazed hers.

  She jerked away, and glared at them in turn. She would not be the prize in their competition. No matter how terrible it appeared, she had no reason to feel guilty. She had not chosen to be alone with Eagle Elk.

  Black Bear’s eyes blazed, his anger palpable. He kicked and jerked the halter rope, turning the horse so its rear swerved toward Eagle Elk, forcing him to step back.

  Quiet Thunder’s spirit lurched as Black Bear rode away. He would never allow her to explain, never forgive her.

  She whirled to face Eagle Elk. He stepped away in surprise.
Words twisted in her mouth but came out as a strangled cry. She stomped away, fists clenched. This time, he did not follow.

  ****

  The air inside the tipi closed in on Black Bear even in darkness. He needed to get outside, beneath the stars.

  The moon shone bright, making shadows stretch long. Aimlessly, he walked, needing to get away but with no clue as to where. He asked the stars to guide him, and they pressed closer. After awhile he looked back, and became startled to see the village so small. A shadow behind him halted. His heart flip-flopped. Instinctively, he reached for the knife in his belt as the shadow advanced. Slowly, it filled with features to form a woman with flowing dark hair and a narrow waist atop lean legs.

  He didn’t dare hope for Quiet Thunder, but it was she who approached. She halted two paces away.

  His pulse raced. Too many thoughts crowded his mind, so he didn’t speak for fear he’d betray himself. She gazed at him with such yearning, her heart shone brighter than the moon. He wanted nothing more than to run to her, press her close to his chest.

  “Are you a dream?” he asked finally.

  She moved forward and placed her hand on his cheek. “I am real.”

  He laid his hand atop hers, closed his eyes and exhaled long.

  “As real as you.” Her thumb stroked his cheek. “My mind and heart are equal to yours.”

  He searched her face. “I know. Though you are much more headstrong.” He smiled.

  She slid her hand back. “If you can’t speak seriously-”

  “We don’t need to always be serious. You should smile more.” His gaze went to her mouth. He hadn’t tasted its nectar in too long. Her parted lips posed a sweet invitation too tempting to resist. He drifted closer, his heart urging him forward.

  She turned. “Black Bear-”

  He caught her arm. “I understand what you’re saying. Now you aren’t hearing what I’m telling you.”

  “What are you telling me?” Her low, soft voice caught him as surely as a rope.

  Gladly he’d bind himself to her. “Walk with me. Beside me.”

  She stilled. “Beside you? Not behind you?”

  He inclined his head. “Come.” He moved slowly, with no purpose other than to be with her. Their arms touched as they strolled beneath the stars, which shone like the fires of all the Sioux nation, living and dead.

  “After we argued, my spirit felt broken. Like you had split me in two and taken half.”

  “I only take what you would freely give.”

  He halted. “I give you all of myself, if you will have me.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. Her lip quivered as she asked, “What of the girl?”

  “What girl?” He furrowed his brow, uncertain of what she meant.

  She stuttered, “At the Sun Dance. The one whose smiles pleased you so.”

  Tension left his muscles as he realized to whom she referred. “She annoyed me. Everywhere I went, she followed. I didn’t encourage her.”

  Turning away, she sighed.

  He encircled his arms around her and leaned his forehead against hers. “Listen to me. My heart beats for you and no other.” He eased back. “But can you say the same?”

  “What do you mean?” Placing her hands against his chest, she stilled, her dark eyes catching the glint of moonlight.

  “You spent time with Eagle Elk.” The words left a bitter taste on his tongue, but had to be said.

  Stiffening, she pressed away. “Not by choice. I discouraged him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  He held his grip steady and spoke pointedly. “So we both must learn to trust.”

  Another Lakota might not have allowed her to explain, but put his wounded pride between them. But no other Lakota would see how beautiful she looked in the moon’s glow.

  She slid her arms around his neck. “Yes.” Her words came out in a rush. “I ached for you so much.”

  He pressed his mouth to hers, his arms strong around her, their spirits as entwined as their bodies. He nuzzled her neck, his face in her hair, their breaths soft. He held tight, not wanting to let go.

  The moon beamed in happiness, bathing them in its bluish light in blessing.

  “Look.” He lifted his head. “A flying star–a good sign.”

  The star appeared to fall toward earth. How could a star falling from its home in the sky be a good sign? Perhaps it fell as a warning.

  She shuddered. “But what if-”

  He stilled her mouth with his finger. “Nothing bad can happen now. We will make our tipi together soon. You will make me happy,” he teased with a smile.

  “And what will you make me?” she challenged him.

  “Proud.” Satisfaction warmed him.

  Nostrils flared, she growled and pushed at him.

  He pulled her close. “I will keep you warm, protect you. Give you all I have. I will do whatever I can to make you as happy as you make me.”

  Quieting, she softened in his arms. “I want what is inside you. Truth. Respect. Your heart.”

  “You already have those.” He placed her hand across the scars on his chest. “I carry your thunder here. At night, it rumbles through me, stronger with each moon. It keeps me awake. Makes me burn to be near you.”

  “I will be. Always.”

  ****

  Chief Red Horse moved the tribe three more times. Hunters brought back deer and small game, but found no buffalo. No hunter appeared more disappointed than Black Bear. He’d captured two of the three horses he promised to Quiet Thunder’s father. Soon would come the Moons of the Yellow and Falling Leaves. The tribe needed more meat to last the winter. Already, some went to sleep still hungry.

  As they set up their tipis again, two whites rode into camp. Quiet Thunder chilled with fear. One was the large-nosed captain who’d asked for their children.

  While Red Horse met with the wasichu for hours, wives argued with husbands, grandfathers argued with fathers. Everyone knew why they’d returned. Children huddled beside their mothers with wide eyes.

  The whites rode off, and Chief Red Horse sent for White Cloud, the medicine man. Long into the night, their murmurs filled the tipi. In the morning, Red Horse called the tribe together.

  His face sagged with weariness beyond lack of sleep. “Pratt begins his school in the next moon. I prayed to the Great Spirit for guidance. Winter will bring many hardships, and death to some. I won’t oppose any parent who wishes to send children to the white school.”

  The tribe listened in silence, and now spoke in whispers amongst themselves.

  Quiet Thunder dared not move. By some of their expressions, some had already decided.

  Eagle Elk’s father straightened. “My sons will go.” Eagle Elk and his younger brother exchanged unblinking glances.

  Red Horse appeared weighted with sadness. “Any others?”

  Two more fathers spoke on behalf of their three sons and two daughters.

  Black Bear’s father stepped forth. “My son will go.”

  Quiet Thunder gasped, and brought her hand to her mouth. She knew Black Bear wouldn’t dishonor his father by arguing.

  Black Bear’s nostrils flared, his brows furrowed, his mouth set in a grim line. His gaze flew to hers, anguish in his eyes.

  Her panic mounted. She couldn’t stay here without him. If he left her behind, he would never return to her–not the same man she loved. The whites would change him, and she would remain the same. She wouldn’t understand his thoughts as she now did.

  Swiftly, she turned to her father, Running Horse. “I wish to go.”

  Pretty Eagle’s eyes widened. Clutching her husband’s arm, she shook her head furiously.

  Her father’s face softened, his lips parted, then closed. “Are you certain?”

  “I must go with Black Bear.” Her insides twisted. Would her father refuse her? Did she want him to?

  His shoulders slumped, and he nodded his consent.

  Running Horse’s rough voice broke through the murmurs. “Quiet Thunder
will go.”

  Black Bear stiffened, his mouth agape as he stared in question.

  Quiet Thunder stood tall and met his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t protest.

  Her brother slipped between his parents. “If she goes, I go too.”

  Pretty Eagle stifled a cry. “Not both!”

  Running Horse said, “They’ll have enough to eat. They’ll take care of each other, and come home one day.” He said to the tribe, “Running Wolf also.”

  A sob escaped as Pretty Eagle clutched her stomach, her face a mask of misery.

  The head man waited for others to speak, but none did. “Tomorrow morning, wagons will bring our children to the Rosebud Agency. Ready your belongings. Wear your finest robes to make our tribe proud.” Red Horse’s legs wobbled like a fawn as he walked away.

  Black Bear inclined his head toward the field. Quiet Thunder moved in the direction, keeping him in her line of sight as he moved parallel. They circled around a tipi and met behind it.

  Through clenched teeth, he asked, “Why did you do that?”

  “You promised to be my husband. I go where you go.”

  “But everything has changed.” His eyes held fear, and unspoken questions.

  She stood tall. “Not us. Not as long as we stay together.” She’d be strong for both of them, if she had to. Whatever their fates, hers forever entwined with his.

  ****

  Quiet Thunder awoke early. She’d packed all but her buffalo skin and beaded dress, which she would wear with her best beaded moccasins. Her mother prepared pouches of food for their journey. Running Wolf, dressed in his fringed pants and shirt, carried his pack outside.

  A boy ran past the tipi. “The wagons come!”

  Quiet Thunder’s heart lurched. A wagon would take her far from her parents, far from all she loved–except Black Bear. That thought alone freed her from her panic so she could move. Running Wolf, too, would need her guidance and protection.