by Connie Mason
Wind Rider smiled, recalling how happy Tears Like Rain had looked when she told him about the child she was expecting. “I believe she has accepted what cannot be changed. She has a white husband whom she loves, and is expecting his child soon.”
“You have a white wife,” Hannah reminded him. “It would be so easy for you to return to the white world. I’m sure your sister would help you adjust.”
“Never!” He said it with such fierce conviction, Hannah was utterly convinced he meant it.
“I can’t ever go back to Denver because of Mr. Harley, but there are other cities in which we could live. You could find a job and—”
”A job?” Wind Rider snorted derisively. “I have a job. It is chasing white eyes from our land.”
“You can’t succeed, you know. You have no idea how many people are leaving the East to settle in the West. They are so numerous that soon there will be large cities springing up across the plains. I saw them, Wind Rider. In Boston there are so many people, the streets were teeming with them. Other eastern cities are probably just as crowded. In Independence, wagon trains stretched out in mile-long lines, waiting to begin the journey West.
“Tracks are being laid to carry trains bringing more people across the prairie. In Denver they call it progress. People say that one day no Indians will roam free. Leave now, Wind Rider, leave while there is still time to make a new life for yourself. Raiding and fighting can only lead to your death.”
“You are wise for one so young,” Wind Rider said, astounded by her perception. He had already come to the same conclusion many moons ago, but he had vowed to fight to the bitter end. “As for my death, it is inevitable.
When I left Sand Creek I knew I traveled a path that led to the spirit world.”
“But there is no need!” Hannah cried. “You’re white. I-I don’t want you to die.”
He regarded her curiously, his face softening. “Why? I have not been kind to you.”
“You have not hurt me. You saved my life. If I had not met you, I would have died long before I reached Cheyenne. I was so naive. I had no idea how dangerous it was to leave Denver as I did to try to reach Cheyenne on my own. I was ignorant of the distance I would have to travel alone. But I was so determined not to sell my body for Mr. Harley’s benefit that I could think of nothing but escape, no matter what the cost.”
“You are a remarkable woman, Hannah McLin. You are small and delicate but have the courage of a warrior. And you are very young and naive. There is no returning for me.
“Besides, you talk too much, Little Sparrow.” He grasped her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Come, I will show you where to gather the soap plant we used for our bath. When we return we will lie on the river bank and make love with Grandfather sun shining down upon us.”
Chapter Eight
“What are these scars?” Hannah asked curiously. She ran her fingers lightly over the faded ridges on either side of Wind Rider’s broad chest. She hadn’t noticed them before, probably because they were old and barely discernible.
“When I was fifteen winters I participated in the Sun Dance.”
“Sun Dance? What is that?” Her fingers stilled on the scars, savoring the warmth of his flesh, amazed at her boldness and the sense of lightness she felt lying in this man’s arms. They had made love so many times during the past days, she had lost count. And each time had been better than the last. Knowing that he was white eased her conscience somewhat, for it was incomprehensible to her that an Indian could captivate her so utterly.
“The Sun Dance is many things to different tribes. But to the Cheyenne it is world renewal. A warrior makes a vow before participating in the Sun Dance, not so much for himself but for the whole tribe. Attending upon his vow and its fulfillment is an abundance of good water and good breath of the wind. As the ceremony progresses, a lodge is erected and a fire built, which represents the heat of the sun. The lodge is built facing the east so that the heavenly bodies may pass over it and fertilize it.”
“It sounds complicated,” Hannah said, placing a kiss over each scar. “You still haven’t explained how you got the scars.”
“I will explain.” The touch of her lips against his flesh sent a quiver of anticipation down his spine. “The Sun Dance requires eight days to complete. The first four days are given over to building the dance lodge and to secret rites, which you would not understand. The last four days are devoted to the public dance in the Sun Dance lodge. The dancer is called ‘The Reproducer’ because through his act the tribe is reborn and increases in number.
“Self-sacrifice, in which many but not all men indulge, takes place outside the Sun Dance lodge. You might think it barbaric. We call it ‘hanging from the center pole/ One who has vowed to do this asks the medicine man to help him. The medicine man fastens the end of two ropes to the crotch of a pole erected outside, adjusting them so that they will reach just to the breast height of a standing man. He next punches or cuts two holes in the skin just above each nipple and pushes a small skewer through each pair of holes so that a narrow strip of skin laps over it and holds it against the breast/’
“Oh, no,” Hannah gasped, horrified. “It must have hurt dreadfully.
“It is not so bad.” Wind Rider shrugged, proud of the ordeal he had undergone. “The free ends of the rope are fastened about the skewers so that the sacrificer may dance fastened to the pole all night. If by morning he has not succeeded in tearing the skin loose to free himself, the medicine man cuts the skin off and his ordeal is ended. To help overcome the pain, the sacrificer blows a whistle, invoking the help of the spirits to ease his suffering.”
“You’re right, I don’t understand,” Hannah agreed, unable to comprehend the type of self-torture practiced by Indians. “Why would any man do such a thing?”
“For many reasons,” Wind Rider said. “Most often it is a vow pledged as a means to gain the spirits’ pity and thereby obtain good fortune. It is also an act of courage that brings great public approval from the People, and it gains one much prestige.”
“Why did you do it?” She was trying hard to understand what drove Wind Rider, but it was difficult.
“I did it because I wanted to prove I was Cheyenne despite my white blood. I wanted to show I did not lack courage. When I reached fifteen summers I sought my vision and among other things I saw myself participating in the Sun Dance, earning praise and respect from the People. Once I had participated none could doubt that I was truly Cheyenne.”
Hannah’s hands roamed freely over his chest and shoulders, marveling at the smoothness of his golden skin, the firmness of the underlying muscle. She had no idea what would happen at the end of these seven days, but she intended to make the most of them. She knew Wind Rider hadn’t married her because he loved her, and she worried that he would give her to Cut Nose when he tired of her. Undoubtedly Wind Rider would raid again one day soon, and she feared he wouldn’t return. She couldn’t bear the thought of being left to the mercies of the Indians without Wind Rider to protect her.
“How did you seek your vision?” she asked idly.
With Hannah’s hands on his flesh he could barely think, let alone answer her question. He had never felt this way about a woman before and he had no time to explore the strange emotion that made him desire this woman above all others. His eyes glowed like liquid silver as he felt his body harden.
“I will tell you about my vision . .. later.”
He rolled her over on her back, seizing her lips to still her words. It didn’t take long for him to decide that he thoroughly enjoyed kissing. He kissed her ravenously, until her lips opened beneath his, inviting his tongue. He obliged eagerly, thrusting into the sweet cavern of her mouth until she lost her breath and grew dizzy. With blackness swiftly approaching, he released her mouth and kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, sweet butterfly kisses that sent heat rushing through her veins while his hands played with her breasts and teased her nipples into painful erectness.
His hands moved over her b
ody with amazing gentleness; her soft sighs and moans made him long to thrust into her and stroke himself to completion. Mastering his powerful need with incredible restraint, he continued to arouse Hannah to a fever pitch, savoring the way her body responded to his touch. His hand slipped between her legs, finding her wet and ready, but for some reason he wanted to bring her more pleasure than she had ever known.
“Wind Rider, please ...”
He knew what she was asking but was not ready to appease her hunger. “Soon, Little Sparrow, very soon.” His face was stark with passion, hard and greedy, ravenous, his muscles tense. No part of her body was sacrosanct as his lips and hands worked their magic on her. By the time he grasped her waist and set her astride him she was reduced to begging, so great was her need. “Now, Little Sparrow, now.”
He raised her body and shoved her down hard on his erection. He pierced her deeply, so deeply she arched her back, threw back her head, and screamed.
“Ride me, Little Sparrow,” Wind Rider urged. He grasped her buttocks, sliding her up and down his great length, teaching her the rhythm. “Ride me, sweet one. Let me be your wild stallion and I will take you on a wondrous journey.”
“Yes, oh, yes,” Hannah gasped, twisting her body in wild abandon. Nothing in her limited experience had prepared her for this man. No matter what happened in the future, she would have these seven days to remember and savor all of her life.
A fine sheen of sweat turned Wind Rider’s skin to molten gold. His finely honed muscles rippled, and the tendons in his neck bulged as he strained to contain his climax until Hannah had reached hers. When he felt the tremors signaling the beginning of rapture, he feared he would leave her behind. Inserting a hand between their bodies, he found the tiny bud of sensation located at the juncture of her thighs and massaged gently with the pad of his finger. When his mouth closed over a swollen nipple, sucking vigorously, she reacted instantly and violently.
“Wind Rider!”
“Come with me, Little Sparrow,” he urged raggedly. “Come.”
She did. Wantonly. With utter abandon. Every delicious contraction was intensified by the circular motion of his fingertip. She held nothing back, offering herself upon the altar of his masculinity, demanding that he return her offering in kind.
Lost in the throes of ecstasy, his seed spewed forth in a hot stream of liquid fire. Without his knowledge he cried out her name at the moment of climax. When she had nothing more to give she collapsed against his chest, unable to move, incapable of speaking, unwilling to think.
Wind Rider lay unmoving beneath her, utterly stunned by the turbulence of their lovemaking. If he died tomorrow, as indeed he might, given the precarious nature of his existence, he’d go to his death knowing he’d experienced the greatest joy known to man. To his knowledge, few mortals were granted that privilege.
He frowned, staring at Hannah as if seeing her for the first time. Carefully, he lifted her off him and lay her down beside him. He suddenly understood something that had previously escaped him. Somehow, in some way, this woman was a threat to his very existence.
He was Cheyenne; Hannah was white. He could not allow himself to feel so deeply for a white woman. Already she had tried to convince him to leave the People. If he allowed her to conquer his heart, he would lose his identity, and that would be disastrous. He could not exist in the white world, nor would he abandon his people for a woman. Self-preservation demanded that he harden his heart against her, that he enjoy her body while he was able, but, when the time came, that he must forget she ever existed. It would not be easy, but if he was to save himself he must force himself to resist the magical allure of Hannah McLin.
“Why are you looking at me so strangely?” Hannah asked. A shiver of apprehension slid down her spine. Something had changed, but she knew not what. “What have I done?”
“You have done nothing. Heammawihio has opened my eyes/’
“What does that mean?”
“Heammawihio is the great spirit above who guides our lives. I had nearly forgotten why I rode north to join the Sioux, but in his wisdom Heammawihio reminded me. Our time in the honeymoon lodge grows short. Tomorrow we must return to the village.”
“Then what?”
“Then you will do what every Indian wife does and I will do what I must to drive the white eyes from our land. Perhaps,” he taunted, not really meaning it, “I will take a second wife as the council suggested, to help with the chores.” He watched her closely to see if his words had the desired effect. He couldn’t let her think she had become so important to him that he would forget his duty to his people.
The effect upon Hannah was devastating. During the past few days she had never been so happy or carefree. Wind Rider had given her his undivided attention, making her feel special and beautiful, though she knew she wasn’t. Their honeymoon had given her hope that one day he would listen to her pleas and return to his white heritage. But now his words had demonstrated just how cold-blooded he could be, how heartless. He had taken her body in lust, used her, taught her to need him, then cruelly shattered her hopes and dreams by withdrawing everything of himself he had given. Had it been a game with him? She did not think he could be so cruel.
“Perhaps you should take a second wife,” she retorted. She knew it was her pride speaking, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You are beginning to bore me anyway.” She almost choked on the words, recalling how moments ago he had taken her on a journey she would remember for the rest of her life.
Their last night in the honeymoon lodge was a bittersweet one for Hannah. Wind Rider made love to her with practiced detachment, as if trying to distance himself now that their time alone was at an end and his duty to the tribe took precedence. When he finished he lay back and stared at the stars through the smokehole, trying to come to terms with his emotions.
“My vision did not tell me I would meet someone like you.”
His voice was so low, Hannah had to strain to hear him. “What kind of vision are you talking about? You mentioned something about a vision before.”
“When an Indian youth reaches a certain age he goes off by himself to pray and fast.
He remains many days, until a vision comes to him. Often a vision will give him the name that he will bear the rest of his life. Sometimes it foretells the future. When a time of decision comes in a warrior’s life he goes on a vision quest, seeking guidance/’
“What did your vision tell you?” Hannah asked curiously.
“The medicine man interpreted it shortly after I returned from my quest, but he said some things would be made known only to me by the Great Spirit. I saw myself astride a great stallion, riding away from the village on a gust of wind. Thus my name, Wind Rider. A small brown bird perched on my shoulder. Then I saw myself slowly disappearing into thin air as I rode away. As I faded from sight I saw that I was wearing white man’s clothing. The medicine man said the small bird was my personal talisman and that I should protect it at all times.”
“What do you think it meant?” Hannah asked curiously. She found the idea of the vision fascinating, whether or not it meant anything.
Wind Rider did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke his voice was flat, utterly devoid of emotion. “I believe I foresaw my own death. When I disappeared into thin air it meant I would walk the Spirit Path before my time.”
Hannah gasped in dismay. “No! It was only a dream. You have no idea what it meant.”
Imagining Wind Rider’s death was too painful to contemplate.
“It was no dream, Little Sparrow. Visions do not lie. The life I lead is a dangerous one. Each time I ride against the white eyes I wonder if it will be my last. But the meaning of the brown bird on my shoulder has suddenly become clear,” He stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. “You are my little brown bird, my personal talisman. Perhaps you will bring me powerful medicine.”
“I certainly hope so,” Hannah said fervently. “You don’t have to raid,” she reminded him.
“You’re white, for God’s sake! You can leave; there is nothing holding you back.”
Wind Rider turned away from her. “How can I turn my back on the only life I can remember? White Feather taught me everything I know. He rescued me and my sister from the Crow after they killed our parents and adopted us. Since then I’ve learned that my own kind are the savages. They kill the People and drive them from their lands because they are greedy. They are not content to share the land with the People; they want it all. They want to herd us onto reservations like animals.”
Hannah had no reply. From what she’d heard, Wind Rider’s assessment of the situation between Indians and whites was correct. But not all white men were necessarily like the ones Wind Rider had described. She mentioned that fact to Wind Rider.
“Perhaps not,” he concurred, thinking of Zach Mercer, who had fallen in love with his sister. Zach had also fought beside the Cheyenne when the Crow had invaded their village. “But what you ask is impossible. We will speak no more about it.”
The moon rode high in the sky. Wind Rider shifted positions on his pallet of furs, uncomfortably aware of Hannah’s warm body curled beside him. Once he had recognized the fact that Hannah was becoming essential to his well-being, he had vowed to disengage his emotions from the white wife he hadn’t really wanted. He didn’t need her as desperately as he imagined, he told himself even as his arm crept around her slim waist with a will of its own. A good Cheyenne warrior practiced restraint, learned to quell his body’s urges, and didn’t allow his need for a woman to blind him to his duty. He had already made love to Hannah more than once tonight, and that should be enough for any man.
But no amount of denial could refute his need for the small bundle of warm flesh sleeping at his side. Perhaps it was his white blood, or something in his ancestry that made him want Hannah McLin so desperately. The hot blood clamoring in his veins had to come from his white heritage, he decided grumpily as his hand shifted upward from Hannah’s waist to settle on a plump white breast. With a groan of dismay, he shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind and covered Hannah’s body with his, awakening her with a deep kiss.