Silken Savage

by Catherine Hart

  Since Hunter’s birth, though Panther still took time in their lovemaking to arouse her, though he still caressed and fondled her breasts, he never suckled them as he had in the past. This was now his son’s pleasure; the source of Hunter’s nourishment.

  Lying next to him on their pallet, Tanya now guided Panther’s head to her breasts, needing to feel his lips upon her. He kissed her breasts, and his tongue reached out to trace the nipple. It puckered immediately at his touch, and tiny drops of milk seeped from it. He tasted the fluid with his tongue, and when he would have backed off, Tanya pressed his mouth to her breast, arching up to meet him.

  “Please, Panther,” she moaned.

  “I would not take my son’s meal from him,” Panther whispered.

  “It will only make the milk come in faster. You will not deprive him,” she explained. “Please. I need to feel your lips on me. It has been so long since you have done this, and I starve for you!”

  Satisfied that his son would not go hungry, Panther complied readily. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he suckled avidly and the warm, sweet milk flowed into his mouth. Beneath him, he felt Tanya’s body tense.

  “Am I hurting you?” he murmured against her heated breast.

  “Oh no, Panther, It feels glorious! Don’t stop.”

  A few minutes later she was wriggling beneath him, “Make love to me, Panther. You have made me need you so! Make love to me!”

  Her breast still sucked tightly between his lips, Panther entered her. As his lips pulled at her nipple, he could feel her body tighten and pull at his manhood.

  Within moments her body was exploding around him, and his own passion broke with a force that rocked him to his toes.

  Now when he rode off to war with his braves, he carried not only the picture of Hunter at Tanya’s breast, but the remembrance of their lovemaking and the taste of her sweet nectar on his tongue.

  The last of September brought another messenger from Fort Larned. The man had ridden his horse nearly to death, covering almost 300 miles in seven days. The news he brought was both astounding and depressing. Roman Nose was dead. In intense fighting on Beecher Island a few days prior, Roman Nose and his band of Northern Cheyenne had attacked a specialized company of army scouts. The Cheyenne had won the battle, but Roman Nose had been fatally wounded when he lead his braves into battle, despite the fact that his medicine had been broken when he had eaten food served up by a metal spoon.

  Now the army wanted to talk peace with the Cheyenne once more. Major Wynkoop had sent for Black Kettle, knowing if he agreed to come, others would follow. He counted on the fact that Black Kettle wanted peace above all else for his people.

  Once again the Cheyenne headed for Fort Larned, Kansas. They arrived in mid-October for the preliminary meetings. All talks went smoothly this time, and a few days later the Medicine Lodge Treaty was signed at a place on the Medicine Lodge Creek. All the Southern Cheyenne, under Black Kettle’s pleas for peace, agreed to move south of the Arkansas River and stay there.

  Panther understood his uncle’s reasons, but could not agree with his decision. Black Kettle wanted peace with the white soldiers. His braves could not hunt while they were busy making war. The tribes needed food and warm clothing for the long winters. Panther could see this, but in staying south of the Arkansas, the Cheyenne were giving up prime hunting land. The buffalo did not have to stay south of the river, but now the Cheyenne could not follow him if he crossed it. It sickened Panther to see the Indian pushed further and further from his lands and given only a few blankets and a little food as payment. It was unjust and it made him angry.

  When Panther thought about the entire situation, whites versus Indian, he knew the Indian could not win. The white man would triumph in the end. He had grown up and been educated in their world. He was accepted and had friends and relatives in white society. The white man was greedy and grasping, and there were too many of them. The Indians could fight to the last man, and still there would be more white-eyes than could be counted, and they would always covet the Indian’s land. It was a losing battle before it had really started, but these were his people, too, and he would fight with them to the end.

  Chapter 11

  WITH THE peace that fall came the time for the warriors to hunt. For once it seemed that nature was cooperating. Winter held off her cold and snows until much later that year, and the buffalo and deer were plentiful. Perhaps the tribe would not go hungry after all.

  This year they did not go back to their old winter camp, but went further south and camped alongside the mountains in a sheltered valley next to the Cimarron River. After a frenzied, frantic year, Tanya looked forward to an uneventful winter. All she wanted was to snuggle up in her cozy tipi with Panther and Hunter to keep her company.

  It was lovely having Panther home again after the harrowing summer. The work of skinning and preparing the hides he brought her seemed lighter than carrying the heavy load of worry she had for months before. Tanya would much rather watch Panther prepare for a hunt than for war.

  The sun-warmed days of October lingered on into November. A festive celebration of thanksgiving, honoring the successful hunt and harvest was held, and later still a ceremony full of tradition and ritual to honor their chiefs and warriors for brave deeds. At this occasion, Chief Black Kettle was honored for his peace-making efforts; several chiefs and warriors, including Panther, were honored for their valor in the summer war; and Winter Bear achieved his ranking as chief.

  December brought the first snow, but just a few inches to lightly cover the ground. Another Christmas came and went nearly unnoticed, except for the small pine tree Melissa and Tanya decorated on the edge of the village.

  January and February brought heavier snow and polar winds with frigid temperatures, but only two major storms. Food supplies dwindled but everyone shared what they had, and no one went really hungry.

  The occupants of Panther’s lodge stayed content and cozy in their tipi. Melissa, now more of a family member than a servant, had adopted the role of favorite aunt to Hunter. More than ever, Tanya appreciated the extra pair of helping hands, for Hunter had decided to learn to walk. Pulling himself up on his chubby legs, he would wobble and lurch precariously, and Tanya was ever fearful he would topple into the fire.

  The rambunctious little rascal entertained them all with his endless antics. He was constantly on the move and usually ended up getting into something he was not supposed to before the day was out. Happy, healthy, and extremely curious, his active mind and body often got him into trouble with his mother. At such times, he would grin his toothy grin at her, look up at her with smiling golden eyes, and do his level best to soften her up. Most of the time he succeeded, but when he did not, he got his bottom whacked.

  When Panther saw that Tanya was reaching the limit of her patience, he often bundled Hunter up and took him out with him. They would take Kit and Kat for a walk, see the horses, and visit Winter Bear or Grandfather Black Kettle for a while. By the time they returned, Tanya was usually in better sorts.

  Hunter was not a bad baby; he was just a normal, active child. He was not moody or tempermental. Easy to please, he was pleasant and cheerful most of the time. Already Panther and Tanya were giving him lessons in protocol and respect. These were instilled early in all Cheyenne children, as was the necessity for absolute obedience to one’s parents. To obey instantly, without question, could well save a child’s life one day, and the failure to do so could be fatal in this untamed land.

  Each morning Panther would seat Hunter next to himself as he chanted his daily prayers. Even though the child could not understand any of it yet, a pattern was being set for years to come. Both Tanya and Panther would tell him stories and sing songs of nature and Indian lore that had been told to Cheyenne children for countless years. These he could not understand either, but he would sit in Panther’s lap and listen to his father’s deep voice sound against his ear as he lay against Panther’s chest. He would turn large golden eyes
up to his father’s face and seem fascinated with every word, or he would smile at his mother as she sang to him in her melodic voice.

  At this age, Kit and Kat were both his playmates and his horses. The cubs were over a year old now, and about three-quarters their adult size. The poor darlings took a beating from Hunter, but did it gracefully. They never snarled or snapped at the child, but bore his antics with a patient endurance that Tanya secretly admired. Hunter mauled them, chewed on them, pulled their fur, and climbed onto their backs, and they never flicked a whisker, though once in a while Tanya swore she saw them roll their eyes and sigh in tired defeat.

  One incident marred a nearly perfect winter. Just after Christmas, Tanya slipped on a patch of ice while out collecting firewood. She fell, hitting her head on a rock, and lay unconscious in the cold for over an hour before Panther found her. For a week she lay with a raging fever and congested chest, rarely regaining consciousness, and then not lucidly. Root Woman, Woman-To-Be-Hereafter, Melissa, and Panther took turns nursing her. All feared for her life, though none voiced the thought aloud.

  Panther nearly went crazy with worry. In his worst moments, he cursed himself for ever capturing her in the first place. If she were with her family now, she would have a doctor and modern medicines to make her well. He even considered trying to take her to a town or fort for help, but Winter Bear talked enough sense into him to prevent it.

  “She’d never survive the distance on horseback or travois,” Winter Bear advised. “Besides, you know most of the medicines doctors give are the same things Root Woman is giving her. Even if she could withstand the journey, don’t you think her family would find out? Someone could recognize her, and then where would you be?”

  At Panther’s thoughtful look, he went on, “You’d end up in jail and most likely be hung. Wildcat would be returned to her family, and Hunter-of-the-Forest would be an orphan. No, cousin, this way is best. Wildcat will pull through this. She has a strong will to survive, and much to live for.”

  Winter Bear was right. A full week after her accident, Tanya awoke with the dawn. She was weak, thirsty, hungry, and drenched in sweat from her broken fever, but she was awake and lucid. Her head ached abominably and her throat and chest hurt, but she was back in Panther’s world again.

  Panther was lying next to her, asleep, exhausted from his vigil. Tanya poked him lightly in the ribs, struggling to speak. “Panther,” she croaked.

  He groaned and stirred lightly.

  “Panther.”

  This time he awoke, his dark eyes flying open to meet hers.

  “I’m thirsty,” she complained, and they were the sweetest words he’d ever heard.

  “Wildcat,” he whispered. “You are awake.”

  Tanya tried to nod and winced at the pain shooting through her head. “I think so,” she moaned.

  Panther brought her some water, holding the cup to her parched lips. “How do you feel?”

  “Awful! I must be alive, because I hurt too much to be dead,” she joked lamely.

  “Do not joke about such a thing, Wildcat,” he admonished gently, his eyes suspiciously wet. “You have been unconscious for a full seven suns, and there were times I was sure you would slip away from us.” Tanya blinked tiredly. “Never, Panther. I love you too much to leave you. You should know that by now.” Tanya slept a lot over the next week, but it was a natural, healing rest. She’d lost weight the week she’d been unconscious and unable to eat, and now she had to work her way up slowly, starting with weak broth. Slowly she regained her strength and health. Her lungs finally cleared, and her throat and head quit hurting. One fact remained. During her illness and recovery period, she’d been unable to nurse Hunter and with no nourishment, her milk dried up. There would be no more breastfeeding.

  “What shall we do?” Tanya asked of Panther.

  “It is already done,” he told her. “Hunter is old enough now to drink from a cup. He has had to learn while you were ill, and is doing fairly well.”

  “Yes, but he needs his milk yet,” she argued. Panther grinned, “He has it,” he told her. “I was too concerned with you to think of it, but Melissa talked to your mother. Woman-To-Be-Hereafter presented the problem to Black Kettle. When no one was found in the village able to nurse him, Black Kettle sent Towering Pine on a raiding mission, and the warrior returned leading a stolen she-goat.”

  Panther took pleasure in relating the tale to her. “Towering Pine nearly got his rear branches shot off in the process, but he returned unharmed and triumphant.”

  Tanya chuckled appreciatively. “But, Panther, a goat!”

  “Black Kettle thought it was time we had one around to add distinction to the village.” He gave her a broad wink. “And don’t you dare tell him otherwise.”

  Tanya gave him a conspiratorial grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  March brought with it the advent of spring, and several things happening at once. Shy Deer gave birth to a son, and Winter Bear was proud as a peacock. Hunter had his first birthday, and now sported twelve gleaming teeth. Tanya, at age eighteen, found herself expecting Panther’s second child. She had been with the tribe for almost two years now, and Panther’s wife for a year and a half. It seemed sometimes that she’d always been here, a part of this life; and her first sixteen years seemed a half-forgotten dream.

  As soon as travel became possible, the tribe moved to a place on Crooked Creek for the Sun Dance ceremonies. This year, Tanya was not an outsider any longer. She renewed aquaintances with the children she had met two years previously, and now their mothers were receptive to her. Tanya now had her place in the tribe and a voice in the proceedings, and she enjoyed the responsibilities as well as the comraderie.

  It was while the tribes were all gathered for the ceremonies that Rosemary was sold. Actually her master traded her off for a horse. When the tribes split up for the summer hunt, Rosemary went another direction with her new master and tribe.

  Of the five girls who had been captured together two years previously Rosemary was the first to leave Black Kettle’s tribe. Tanya and Melissa were saddened to see her go, wondering if they would ever see her again. They hoped she would be treated decently.

  Of the four remaining women, Tanya and Melissa were faring the best now, but all had accepted their fates, and after two years, even Suellen had given up hope of rescue. Suellen had not crossed swords with Tanya since her beating, though her eyes told Tanya she’d made an enemy for life. Nancy, though treated fairly well, now was pregnant, her baby due in the winter.

  As summer approached, Black Kettle’s tribe moved south and hunted along the Cimarron and Beaver Rivers, following the buffalo herds through the northern Oklahoma and Texas territories. Peace was tentative at best, for the Northern Cheyenne and Dog Soldiers were once again stirring up trouble with the whites, and vice-versa. War was imminent, and it didn’t matter who struck first, white or Indian. The only trouble was, most whites could not tell one Indian from another, and often a perfectly innocent tribe was attributed deeds done by another. After being accused of several attacks they’d had nothing to do with, some Southern Cheyenne entered the conflicts. Even Black Kettle, with all his influence and peaceful intentions, could not prevent Panther and Winter Bear from taking their warriors on a few, scattered raids that season.

  Over all, the summer was fairly peaceful. The warriors had a few skirmishes and successful raids, but spent most of their time hunting. War with the whites did not break out full-scale, but the tensions were definitely felt on both sides. Things were gradually building to a head, and Tanya could only pray winter would set in to stop it before things went that far.

  Tanya detested having to go through the major part of her last months of pregnancy in the summer. The heat, the stench of the hides and meat, the hard physical labor, and the constant moving about from place to place, were sapping her energy. By the end of September she felt huge. She was an oddity in the village as it was, for most Cheyenne women did not get pregnant so quic
kly, so often. Perhaps it was something to do with their diets, or the fact that most of them nursed their children longer; but the average Cheyenne woman had two, perhaps three children at most, and there was usually four years or more between their ages. This made Tanya feel like the local fertility symbol. It also made Panther appear extremely virile, which bolstered his ego to no end.

  Toward fall, the tribe wandered back into the area where the women had planted their crops. After the harvest and hunting festivities were over, they headed for a new site for the winter. This year, Black Kettle chose a sight some forty miles south of the Antelope Hills on the Washita River.

  For five days they had been traveling to reach this area, and Tanya had been feeling worse with each passing day. Now, on the fifth day, she was feeling more terrible with each mile. Since early morning her back had ached abominably, and the horse jarred her spine with each step. Now the pain was spreading around to her stomach, which felt rock-hard and ready to explode. A wave of nausea and dizziness nearly toppled her from her horse and sweat broke out on her forehead. She wished she could lie down, but with her stomach in her way, she could not even lean forward on the mare.

  “How much further is it, Missy?” she gasped.

  Melissa, who had been eyeing Tanya curiously for the last few miles, answered, “I don’t know, Wildcat. Should I ask Panther?”

  Tanya bit her lip, “Better yet, bring him to me.” She and Melissa had been riding further back behind the warriors.

  Within minutes Melissa returned with Panther. One look at her pale, strained face, and he knew. “Your time has come.”

  Tanya nodded. “Is it far yet?”

  “Just a few more miles. Can you make it?”

  Tanya laughed ruefully. “I don’t know. Is it possible to have a baby on horseback? It is a bit awkward to give birth while sitting on the child’s head.”