by Vella Munn
Would Black Wolf want his son to see him the way she imagined him? After hours of riding and occasionally hiding from the scattered but searching soldiers, she believed she had the answer, not because of what she knew about the man, but because of what she'd learned about blood ties from her mother. When she thought her daughter's life was at risk, Margarita had put that daughter's life before everything else.
Black Wolf wanted and needed his son.
When her horse attempted to stop to graze, Lucita dug her heels into the animal's side, grateful that dawn had begun to touch her world even if that increased the risk of the soldiers spotting her. As she caught her first glimpse of the distant hills where Black Wolf said his people lived, she tried to imagine him making his way there, his need for his son lending strength to his legs.
No!
How could she have been so stupid! Yanking on the reins, she pulled the horse to a quick stop. She'd thought she'd found the answer to where to search for Black Wolf in her mother's behavior but hadn't looked at the whole of it. True, Margarita had risked everything by coming to Lucita's defense, but her action hadn't been either rash or unthinking. Before freeing her, Margarita had made sure Pablo was willing to take her to safety. And Margarita had believed the padres would protect her from her husband's wrath.
Black Wolf knew what Sebastian was capable of, his need for revenge. He wouldn't risk his son's life by going to him now.
Where, then?
The wilderness that had felt right and comfortable such a short while ago now loomed in all directions. How could she possibly find the warrior in this vastness?
* * *
"Rest, please. You will kill yourself if you keep going."
"I will rest when I have reached the home of my ancestors."
Yucca groaned but didn't say anything. Nothing remained of night, which made their traveling easier. Black Wolf's side, although it still throbbed, no longer commanded so much of his attention, and he felt less like a dying animal trying to return to its den. A few minutes ago, at his prompting, Yucca had dug up some roots and bulbs so they had something to eat, and although he was still thirsty, the food had revived him a little. At the rate they were moving and needing to sleep before much longer, it would be late tomorrow before they reached Humqaq. He still believed that bathing in the sacred water would do more for his body than anything the shaman gave him, but during the hours of walking and thinking the need to see the hidden falls had become less overpowering.
He'd told Yucca about Humqaq, where it lay, and the centuries-old trail leading to it and had been relieved to learn that the boy had heard about the place. Perhaps, Black Wolf thought, the time would come when the leatherjackets and padres left this land and the Chumash would be free to return to the way of their ancestors.
Perhaps.
All about them were songbirds, some of them blending into their world, others marked by bright blues, reds, and yellows, trying to fill their small but always hungry stomachs. Pointing to a tree with a woodpecker on it, Black Wolf was explaining that their feathers were used in Po 'n kakunupmawa, the sun pole,, during winter solstice ceremonies when a new, deep sound caught his attention.
Yucca heard it, too. "Horse," the boy said.
Chapter 29
The land lay barren in all directions, the dry rolling hills lulling Lucita's senses until she could barely remember what had brought her out here or whom she'd left behind. She carried with her the memory of Pablo's last words to her, and for some reason they held more weight than what her mother had said.
"You have to make a decision, Lucita," he'd said. "You. No one else can."
She didn't know whether he'd still be there when she returned, if she returned, or whether there was anything between them.
Not that it mattered today.
Only Black Wolf did. Black Wolf who lived in a world far different from her own.
Straightening and stretching her back as she'd already done more times than she cared to admit, she forced herself to concentrate on her surroundings. She'd wondered if she'd spot any of the soldiers now, but the land's vastness had consumed them.
The trail she was on had been laid down by generations of Chumash feet, and although it was seldom used these days, she prayed—not sure whom she was praying to—that the time would come when the Indians were once again free to openly make the journey to Humqaq.
Maybe she would bring her mother here, maybe even her father.
A flash of red against a tree's dark background distracted her from the insane thought. Black Wolf had told her that woodpeckers were highly prized because of their bright feathers, which were used in a number of ceremonies, and that whoever killed one of the birds always prayed to the tiny creature's soul.
Do you have a soul, little bird? Black Wolf believes you do, you and the tree you are on, the ground from which the tree grows, the sky above, the smallest insect.
The woodpecker paid her no mind, its beak drumming with surprising strength against the trunk. It must be seeking out insects to eat, but if Black Wolf was right and even ants and grubs had souls, did the woodpecker ask forgiveness every time it filled its stomach?
The question was the product of a mind too long without sleep, she told herself as she let her horse pick its way over a jumble of rocks. If she did manage to make it all the way to Humqaq, perhaps she would bathe where Black Wolf had, hoping the cold water would revive her.
If Black Wolf gave her his blessing to do so.
Something moved, the movement not quick and random like that of a bird and too large for the country's small animals yet not big enough to be that of a soldier. Standing her ground, she waited for whoever it was to reveal himself.
"Yucca?"
The boy came toward her, his hand upraised to shield his eyes from the sun. From his jerky gait she guessed he'd been on his feet for hours, but her sense of relief at having found him was greater than any concern for his physical condition.
"I knew—I hoped... ," she began. Then the only question that truly mattered burst from her. "Where is he?"
Yucca pointed behind him. "He waits for you."
There was something profound about Yucca's words, she soon discovered, although she found Black Wolf sitting on an exposed tree root, his legs outstretched as if he had nothing better to do than watch the day's dawning. Unable to bring her gaze to his side, she concentrated on his bright and clear eyes, the way his hair clung to his neck, his deep, even breathing.
Barely aware of what she was doing, she dismounted and hurried over to him but stopped when she was still too far away to touch him, suddenly scared.
"You knew where I was going," he said.
"Yes, finally."
"How?"
"I... I don't know."
"I think different."
A gust of wind skipped over her cheek and calmed her a little. "At first," she said, "I had no idea how to go about finding you, but I tried to put myself in your place. If I was a wounded Chumash warrior, I would need to go to Humqaq."
He nodded and made a move as if to get to his feet, but instead of completing the gesture, he remained sitting, and she settled herself on the ground a few feet away.
"I prayed..." She swallowed and began again. "I was afraid you had been so badly injured that—"
"I am not." He lifted the wad of grass away from his side and showed her a raw furrow surrounded by healthy flesh. "At first my mind closed down and I was like an animal seeking a place to die, but Wolf walked with me last-night."
If Black Wolf believed that, it was the truth.
"You did not stay with your people," he said.
My people? "No."
"Why not?"
"I don't know!" she cried out, shocked that she'd revealed so much. "Everything happened so fast. I was afraid for Yucca and for you and the soldiers were yelling and trying to decide where to look for you and my mother was crying and I—maybe what I did made no more sense than your decision to go to Humqaq."
<
br /> He said nothing to indicate his reaction to her explanation, but she thought she saw empathy, maybe even understanding, in the way he continued to look at her.
Yucca stood behind her and to her left, but although she wanted to ask the boy how he was and try to explain why her father and Father Patricio had done what they had—as if she had words for that—her eyes had bonded with Black Wolf's and everything else would have to wait.
"What are you going to do?" she asked. "Continue on to Humqaq?"
"Yes."
Good. "And after that?"
Lifting his left hand, he first ran it through his hair and then used it to scrub his cheek. "I do not know."
Not know? No! "But you have to." She couldn't keep the desperation out of her voice. "Your son—you want to see him, don't you?"
"Yes. But this morning that is all I am sure of."
Maybe that wasn't so bad after all, she told herself. He had been wounded, after all. Naturally he had suffered some degree of shock, and with that, along with the loss of blood and the hours he'd spent walking, she couldn't expect him to be as clearheaded as he'd always been.
"I know it seems as if there's incredible distance between Humqaq and your village, but after you've rested a bit, you'll be able to return."
"And after that?"
She was sitting in such a way that a rock dug into her thigh, but she couldn't put her mind to how she might end the discomfort, not now that Black Wolf had thrown his question at her. Now that it was light, her father or some of the soldiers might have come across the trail with her horse's hoof prints on it and be on their way here, but that, too, had to wait.
"I can't answer that for you," she told him. "I am not Chumash."
"But you knew where I would go."
"Y-es, finally."
"Tell me, when you prayed, were your prayers to your God?"
No. "Don't ask me that! I'm so confused right now. I can't believe I did what I did, leaving like that."
The desperation in her voice shocked her into silence. Staring at her hands, she gave up trying to avoid his question. Yes, she had prayed—she would never try to tell either of them otherwise—but that wasn't what had thrown her into so much turmoil.
"Do not retreat from me, Lucita," he prodded. "It must not be like that between us."
"I know." Saying that made things a little easier. "I—you are Chumash. You've shown me what it is to be Chumash. And when I was afraid for you, I prayed to your gods."
"Are you still afraid?"
What was he trying to do to her? "Yes." With an effort, she kept from looking back the way she'd come. "My father will never give up. He'll hunt for you until—"
"And for you."
"Yes! Yes, for me, too. Is that what you want me to say?"
"I do not want for us to be together like this or for last night to have happened, but I cannot change the truth. Lucita?" He leaned forward and locked his gaze on her until she had no choice but to return it.
"You are afraid for yourself, are you not?" he asked
"Yes."
"Ah. And a man or woman stalked by fear turns to help beyond him or herself. When you think of yourself, who are your prayers to?"
Her father had called him a savage. Her mother and the padres believed the Indians were simpleminded, but that was because they didn't know them the way she knew Black Wolf; the others hadn't been allowed close to a Chumash heart.
A rustling sound behind her distracted her, or maybe the truth was she allowed herself to be distracted. Yucca had brought her horse close and was removing its saddle. She thanked him for tending to it and then asked Black Wolf when he would start for Humqaq again.
"Not until night," he told her, his eyes no less intent than they'd been when he asked his question. "Today I hide, and rest."
"Of course." After repositioning her legs, she ran her hands over the ground until she found a dry oak leaf, which she crumbled between her fingers.
"What about you, Lucita? What will you do?"
Opening her hand, she let the crushed leaf fall to the ground. She reached down to pick up another but left it where it was. There was nothing here to slow the wind, and it made a singing sound as it slipped along the ground pushing the grasses first one direction and then another. She spotted a trio of butterflies either caught in the breeze or relishing the random movement.
"I think I would like to be a butterfly," she said. "To let the wind guide everything I do."
"You are not a butterfly, Lucita."
"No." She sighed. "I'm not."
Although he said nothing, she felt and understood his unspoken question.
"I don't know what I'm going to do."
* * *
Both Yucca and Lucita had fallen asleep. From where he sat, Black Wolf was able to keep an eye on them, the grazing horse, and perhaps a quarter-mile of the ancient trail they'd already covered.
Lucita slept like a child with her knees drawn up against her body and her head resting on her bent arm. She'd admitted she was hungry, but although he offered to tell her what roots were safe to eat, she'd muttered that that could come later and then stretched out on the ground.
The effort of standing forced him to grind his teeth together, but if he didn't move, his body would stiffen. Leaning against a tree, he took in his surroundings until they were as familiar to him as his son's face.
Lucita had been right. Nothing mattered more to him than Fox Running. His son's memory had given him the strength to keep going through the night and even now forced him to look into the future when he wanted his mind to remain still and silent.
Never again would he go to the mission. As long as the corporal and Father Patricio remained there, the risk was too great—not that he wanted it otherwise today. He belonged here, at Humqaq, or in his village surrounded by his people with his son by his side.
Perhaps, then, he had not lost so much. Some blood, yes, but nothing else that mattered. More than that, he had repaid his debt to his grandfather by giving Yucca his freedom. Like Black Wolf, the boy would feel like an outsider at first, but with each passing day he would become more Chumash and less neophyte.
Lucita had lost everything.
Maybe.
The man called Pablo had offered her a new way to live. If she returned to him, she could leave the mission and put her father's hatred behind her and even if she never saw her mother again, at least she would be safe.
And happy?
Pushing away from the tree, he waited until he was sure his legs would hold him, then walked over to Lucita and knelt beside her.
"I wish I could walk this journey for you," he whispered. "If you had been born Chumash, you would turn to your spirit for the truth within your heart, but that is not so. The search must be your own."
She stirred and muttered something he couldn't understand but didn't waken. When she was once again still, he leaned forward and touched his lips to her closed eyes.
* * *
"Lucita! Yucca! Awake!"
Galvanized by Black Wolf's shout, Lucita surged to her feet. Still half-asleep, she rubbed her eyes, then looked wildly around.
Black Wolf stood beside her horse, the reins caught in his strong fingers. With his other hand, he pointed.
"Soldiers!" Yucca gasped. "They see us?"
"Not yet," Black Wolf answered.
But soon. There were three of them, the lead figure all too familiar. "Run!" she screamed at Black Wolf. "You have to run."
"I cannot."
The awful finality in his voice tore through her, and, stumbling a little, she hurried to his side. "On horseback!" she insisted. "Please. You can do it."
"I will not leave you."
"I will not leave you." As the sound of approaching hoof beats reached her, she took Black Wolf's free hand and held it against her breasts.
"My father won't kill me. No matter what he said, he won't."
"He may make you wish you were dead."
How did this man kn
ow so much about her and the people who made up her life? "No, no," she tried to deny. "Pablo. My mother, the padres—"
"Not Father Patricio."
"But the others." No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep desperation out of her voice. "They wouldn't—"
"Is it what you want?"
Not knowing what he was talking about, or maybe the truth was she wasn't ready to face the question, she increased her grip on his wrist. He was part of this land, was this land. If he died, something precious and timeless would die with him.
"Yucca," she gasped as the approaching horses broke into a canter. "You have to think of him."
Not trying to break free, Black Wolf held the reins out to Yucca. "Go," he ordered the boy. "To Humqaq. What I told you about it will guide you there, and my friend will find you."
Although Yucca's eyes were wide with fright, he managed to hoist himself onto the horse's bare back. "Black Wolf, please," he begged. "Come with me."
A shake of the head served as Black Wolf's answer. A heartbeat later, he lunged forward and slapped the horse's rump. As the animal sprang forward, he turned back toward her.
"What do you want, Lucita?" he asked.
Chapter 30
Her father and the two soldiers with him reached them before Lucita's mind could do more than slam up against Black Wolf's question. Every nerve in her screamed at the warrior to run, but she was thinking with a woman's mind when forces she'd just begun to understand ruled him.
He was magnificent, wild and yet controlled, boldly facing the man who'd tried to kill him.
Sebastian yanked his horse to such a violent stop that the animal screamed. The others remained behind him, obviously deferring to their commander. Pulling his sword free from where it hung on the saddle, Sebastian aimed it at Black Wolf's chest.
"No!" Without a thought to her own safety, she placed herself between the two men.