Fireblossom

by Wright, Cynthia

  It came to Fox then that she was right. Why couldn't he dwell on the pleasure rather than his own self-perceived shortcomings? Perhaps it had been a mistake for him to believe that he could escape the shadow of Little Bighorn. As long as he carried that burden it seemed that he wouldn't be able to freely enjoy pleasure... let alone accept real love.

  Maddie was stung and perplexed by the sense that his thoughts had taken him away again. "Have you heard anything I've said?"

  He turned to face her and she saw the raw emotion in his eyes. "Of course I heard you... and I agree with you. It was thoughtless of me. Unforgivable. But then, I warned you, didn't I? I told you that I can't give you what you need."

  "Stop saying that!" she cried. Anger flashed in her green eyes and she tossed her hair which rippled over her bare shoulder like honeyed fire.

  Fox gathered her into his embrace. They knelt in the evening breeze, holding each other fast, while Maddie blinked back tears.

  "I'm sorry...." His words were scarcely audible. Slowly he tipped her face up, kissed her salty eyes and cheeks, and then her mouth. It was rosy, almost bruised, from their lovemaking, and the kiss they shared now grew sweeter by the moment.

  "I'm not," she answered at length, smiling mischievously.

  Laughter welled in him and his heart ached to release it along with the stubborn pain. Finally he did laugh. He saw the surprise and answering joy in Maddie's eyes before she drew him back down onto the quilt, where they laughed and loved together. In time, the starry sky covered them like a blanket of black velvet and diamonds.

  * * *

  Miracles seemed to crowd Maddie's life after that night. The land itself was a miracle once they reached the plains. Why hadn't she noticed when she'd first crossed the Dakota Territory with Gramma Susan and Benjamin? The endless sea of prairie grass sent roots two feet down, Fox told her, to provide nourishment for the buffalo whether it rained or not. Above them sprawled the sky, a canopy of Wedgwood blue decorated with a fanciful variety of clouds. Some were piled in mounds, like a profusion of whipped cream, while others were striated as if pieces of white cotton had been stretched and pulled apart.

  Even more beautiful was each night's sunset. Together, Maddie and Fox would take in the spectacle as it unfolded across the boundless sky. Each sunset and sunrise seemed more breathtaking than the last. Each was a miracle.

  And no less miraculous to Maddie was Fox. She was constantly intrigued and surprised by his mind, likening it to a puzzle with key pieces that he kept carefully locked away. So much remained uncertain between them, there was so much he insisted he couldn't give her, that she indulged in what was tangible.

  The night after Maddie's awakening, Fox had been congenial but physically wary. It wasn't until the moon had risen high in the ebony sky and their fire was reduced to embers that Maddie rose out of a deep sleep, tempted by delicious pleasures. She was nestled against Fox's warm, bare chest. He had thrown one leg over her and, with a sleepy sigh, now ran his hand over her as if by instinct. The rough, long-fingered hand she adored fitted itself to the curve of her bottom, then slid up under the man's shirt she wore in place of a nightgown. Eventually, when Maddie was tingling all over, aroused even more by this wordless passion that built between them at this unreal hour when one always slept, Fox's mouth found her own. As if this episode might be passed off in the morning as a dream, he gave vent to his need, ravishing her with intimate kisses, caressing her with burning hands, and finally pushing into her eager body.

  With the dawn, Maddie awoke to find Fox breaking their camp. Her cheeks colored at the sight of him, but he met her gaze unflinchingly. Still, nothing was said. Both knew what had occurred, yet it was easier to pretend otherwise.

  It was afternoon now. Madeleine rode next to Fox, sharing the silence as she contemplated the simple beauty of the prairie and the miracle of her lover's body. How exotically he was made compared to her, all lean, sinewy strength, with wrists and hands and thighs that made her own seem childlike. He was the first man she had ever seen naked, and that made him all the more alluring and mysterious. She yearned to touch him. Finally, to fill the thundering silence of her thoughts, Maddie spoke.

  "Fox, I hope I'm not mentioning a subject that is too painful for you, but I did want to say that I was sorry to hear about Mr. Hickok's death. Wasn't he a friend of yours?"

  His chin rose slightly, his hands clenched once on the reins, and then he turned to let his blue eyes rest on Maddie. "Actually it's kind of you to mention Bill. He was a rare man. We did become friends during these past weeks and, to tell you the truth, I don't think I've accepted the fact that he's dead. It all seems like a dream, doesn't it? The night we left Deadwood amid the chaos following Bill's murder—and all that's happened since, for that matter." One brow arched wryly. "I think I'd be more upset about Bill if I didn't have a feeling that he was ready to go. He as much as said so."

  Fox fell silent then, returning his attention to the mules. There hadn't been anything much for him to do during the past few miles of open, gently sloping prairie, but now they were coming around an outcropping of hills that blocked their view of the vast sea of pale green grass that lay beyond. After he navigated the mules and wagon around these last obstacles, they ought to have their first glimpse of Bear Butte.

  Maddie's thoughts were in another realm entirely, as she brooded about Fox's remark that the past few days seemed like a dream. Did he wish that what had passed between them hadn't been real? She longed to ask, but Fox was staring ahead, concentrating on the rocky, precipitous path that the mules were navigating. Behind them the covered wagon clanked and groaned, until the ground eventually evened out and they emerged from the last stand of pine trees. Fox drew back on the reins, and Maddie followed his gaze. In the distance, a tall, pointed island seemed to rise out of the pale green ocean of prairie grass.

  "What is that?" she breathed.

  "Bear Butte." Memories pushed up forcefully from his past, grasping him like an unseen hand. Fox felt his palms go clammy, and perspiration beaded on his forehead. Christ, how much of his time with the Sioux had he buried at Little Bighorn? His conflict, it seemed, had been greater than he'd imagined. Staring now at the granite sentinel rising more than a thousand feet above the prairie, it came to him that he, like Maddie, had personal reasons for this journey. Glancing at her, he said, "It's inspiring, don't you think? The Sioux, or Lakota, have long regarded Bear Butte as a sacred place, and a convenient spot to gather as well. They usually come here at the end of the summer to fatten their ponies, do a bit of trading, and send smoke signals to other bands if the need arises...." He spoke almost unconsciously, and when he ran out of words, his voice trailed off.

  "That's where we're going, isn't it?" Maddie queried in an effort to absorb reality. Their adventure was no longer a lark; soon she would be in the midst of the same Indians who had recently massacred more than two hundred American soldiers.

  "Yes." Fox lifted his brows. "You aren't afraid, are you?"

  She swallowed hard but managed a smile. "Perhaps. A little." No sooner were the words out than her heart began to beat like one of the Indian tom-toms she'd read about as a child. "Fox, you told my father that you spent time among the Sioux. Maybe you've even been to Bear Butte yourself before. Won't you tell me what to expect? I think it would help if I had knowledge beyond the myths I've heard about Indians."

  He squinted into the sunlight, thinking.

  "They are myths, aren't they?" Maddie pressed, her voice rising.

  "Mostly." He looked down at her pale face and laughed. "Where is the spirited woman who came, uninvited, to find her sister and discover for herself what the Sioux were really like?"

  "I—I still feel that way!" she protested, licking her lips. "It's just that... I mean, I can't help feeling a qualm or two... about the unknown, I mean."

  Fox took pity on her. "Yes, I know what you mean. In fact, I'll tell you a secret. I wasn't prepared for the onslaught I felt myself when we first gli
mpsed Bear Butte—and I've been here before." He paused for a moment, then continued, "I wish I could tell you exactly what to expect, Maddie, but I'm not sure myself. A lot's changed since I spent time, a long time in fact, among the Lakota people. They still believed most of the white man's promises then. They still had enough freedom to carry on their way of life. That's over now, in spite of the Indian victory at Little Bighorn. I don't doubt that the people who are following Crazy Horse are even angrier and more frustrated than the rest of the Lakota, which is why I'd've preferred that you stay in Deadwood. It was a shame that you listened to your grandmother rather than your father and me."

  "You don't really think they'll harm us...? You told Father that you believed you would be safe, that you had friends among the Sioux, even among Crazy Horse's renegade bands!"

  Fox shrugged. "Do you really imagine that I would have voiced any fears to your father even if I had them? I cannot give you guarantees, but a few short years ago I would have. The majority of the Lakota people I have known have been the fine human beings. Your father and I have both told you what we feel about the Indians."

  "But you aren't sure whether they are still like that?" Maddie knew she ought to leave it alone, but she could not help worrying the matter like a dog with a bone. Was she going to be cooked alive over burning embers or torn apart by four horses running in different directions?

  "I don't know what else to say to you. These people feel hopeless and betrayed. Others whom they have befriended have turned against them, so they may not trust me, either." He took a dried apricot from his pocket and chewed it thoughtfully before adding, "The Lakota are wise, though. They will remember that I did not ask for anything from them, nor have I broken any promises. I shared only friendship and laughter and work with them during my years on the plains. There's no reason for them to punish me for the transgressions of others. I believe that we will be safe."

  Maddie sighed audibly and a smile spread slowly over her lovely face. "Well, then, that's good enough for me. Now I can indulge in pure excitement over the next chapter in our adventure. We'll be safe!" She repeated his words with added emphasis, as if that would lend them more credibility.

  Fox sighed, too, but there was a weight on his heart. He and Maddie would probably remain safe... as long as Crazy Horse and his Lakota followers didn't discover that he had been among the bluecoats who'd been hunting Indians that infamous day at Little Bighorn.

  Chapter 16

  August 6, 1876

  Dusk was gathering, washing the landscape with hues of amber and rose, when the pair of mules pulled their wagon and two passengers to the crest of a gentle ridge. Bear Butte loomed before them now, filling Maddie's vision. The flatland that lay below the ridge and stretched up to the laccolith's base was threaded with cottonwood trees.

  Fox drew back on the reins and narrowed his eyes at the distant trees that shimmered in the gentle breeze. "Those cottonwoods mean water. They grow along streambeds, and that's where the Indians make camp." He shaded his eyes and wished he'd thought to bring a spyglass. Suddenly it occurred to Fox how careless he'd been—probably because his mind had been clouded by a lot of nonsensical visions of Maddie. Why hadn't he realized that the Indians might attack them before he could establish contact, before he even knew they were there! How the hell was he going to communicate if he didn't see someone he recognized early on? And the words—! Panic swept over him as he struggled to remember the rudiments of the Lakota language he'd nearly mastered a few years ago.

  Sensing his tension, Maddie said, "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," he murmured, and gave her a smile of calm assurance. "I was just thinking... wondering how best to approach this situation."

  "Shouldn't we search for the village?"

  "Oh, I don't doubt that it's down there, shielded by the cottonwoods. In fact, my guess is that they already know we're here."

  Maddie tried to swallow, but it seemed that something was lodged in her throat. Reality penetrated at last: Fox really had no guarantees about what would happen when they came face-to-face with these renegade Indians.

  "Maybe it would be best just to sit here for a little while and wait—give them a chance to come to us," he decided at length. "I believe I'll eat while I can."

  She stared in disbelief as he rooted around behind them in the wagon and brought out a hunk of rye bread, some jerky, and a couple of plums, all of which he offered to Maddie. "No, thank you," she cried in a strangled voice. "I've no stomach for food at the moment."

  "Sorry to hear it," Fox replied laconically. He ate with relish, washed it all down with cold coffee, wiped his mouth, then got out to give Watson and the mules water from a bucket. When he returned to his seat, Maddie was fairly wringing her hands.

  "How can you be so composed? Why, I—"

  "Don't raise your voice," Fox interrupted. "It carries on the breeze. Would you be happier if I gnashed my teeth and begged God to spare us from torture and death?"

  Before Maddie could speak again, Fox lifted his head, put a finger to her mouth, and listened. "They're coming," he whispered.

  Sheer terror flooded her. For an instant she thought she might faint, then her innate strength bobbed to the surface. "Shall I get a rifle?"

  Fox gave her an endearing smile and caressed her cheek with a brown hand. "My darling Madness, it would do you no good in the face of a band of Indian warriors, but I do admire your pluck. I believe that you'd defend us both if you had to."

  Tears blurred her vision and she wiped them away furiously. "There must be something we can do!" A symphony of hoofbeats reached her ears, rising out of the flatland below them.

  "Just this." He slipped his strong arms around her and drew her into his embrace, still smiling at her with fond blue eyes that crinkled at the corners. "There's no point in worrying. Better to expect the best." He kissed her then, bending her backward, his mouth working on her tense lips until he felt them soften and respond. Finally he kissed his way down her cheek and throat, murmuring, "Shhh..." so soothingly that she went limp in his arms.

  Fox was relieved that Maddie was able to respond to him in the midst of her fear. He knew that she'd be terrified by the sight of the braves, with their war paint that was meant to frighten and intimidate strangers, and he'd hoped to distract her. At length, lifting his head, he saw that five of the lean young men, clad in buckskin leggings and fierce-looking in their bright paint and feathers, had formed a line astride their agile ponies. Two of the other riders were galloping the rest of the way up the gentle slope. One of them wore paint on his face that made him resemble a ferocious bear; he wore his hair unbraided, and his naked upper body was streaked with more paint. His companion, whose face was painted mostly white with green circles around his eyes, wore a blue short coat that had once belonged to a white army officer. Fox wondered if the blue coat was a treasure from Little Bighorn.

  "Oh, my lord..." Maddie breathed, the words scarcely audible.

  The two braves made a menacing show of their approach to the wagon, reining their horses up short, brandishing decorated spears, and shouting a challenge in the Lakota language.

  Fox was surprised to discover that he was calm. A sense of deja vu enveloped him like magic. Meeting the fierce stare of the first man, he declared, "Kola!"—uttering the Lakota word for "friend." He pointed to himself and then to Maddie. Emboldened, he added the exclamation of pleasure: "Hun-hun-he, kola!"

  The five-man escort party began to murmur among themselves while the young man wearing the army officer's coat glared at his companion and grunted something unintelligible to Fox. It was the first man with whom he felt the unconscious rapport, so he continued to meet his thoughtful stare. At length the fellow spoke slowly in Lakota and Fox translated his words mentally: "I think we have met before, bold friend, as you call yourself. My name is Kills Hungry Bear. Are you...?"

  Flooded by elation and recognition, Fox half rose and exclaimed, "My old friend! I am the one your people called Fox-With-Blue-
Eyes."

  Maddie stared at the two of them, stunned, as they greeted each other as brothers. Kills Hungry Bear was introduced to her, and she managed to smile. Then the other Indian nudged his companion. His fearsome expression was now rather sulky, like a boy being excluded from an important event.

  Laughing, Kills Hungry Bear gestured sideways and presented Striped Owl, who was, he explained, one of the Cheyenne who had joined with the Lakota bands who resisted reservation life. When greetings were exchanged among Striped Owl and the white visitors, Kills Hungry Bear asked Fox why they were there.

  "I have come to meet with your people. I did not know that you would be among them," Fox replied, surprised to discover how readily the Lakota words returned to him. "Miss Avery and I are searching for someone whom we believe to be with those who follow Crazy Horse."

  "I must trust you," Kills Hungry Bear replied solemnly. "You have never lied to me, so I believe you. There are many among your race who would lie to gain access to Crazy Horse so that they might strike him down, but I shall explain to my people that you and your woman are different."

  "The Lakota people have been very good to me. I owe all of you a great deal," Fox said. "You may trust me; I hope that you will."

  "Then let us go to the village. You both look hungry and tired, so we will offer you food and rest, and then we will talk."

  As Kills Hungry Bear wheeled his buckskin pony around, Fox noticed the symbol of a hand wiped across the animal's flank. He remembered then that it meant the rider was in mourning. Memories of his friend's family, who had treated him like a relative, returned with stinging clarity, and Fox spoke. "Kills Hungry Bear... I see that you are in mourning." He chose his words carefully, avoiding a direct question that might offend.

  The young man glanced back, his shining black hair flying behind him in the evening breeze. Twilight accentuated his clay-colored skin and the shadow of sadness that passed over his proud features. "Do you remember my brother, Aiming Fast? In the Moon of Making Fat, he was killed at the Greasy Grass River by Long Hair's bluecoat soldiers."