In minutes, the air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of frying bacon and coffee.
The woman stirred. Her eyes opened, but she made no move to rise, simply lay there staring up at the sky, her expression blank.
“Rebecca?”
There was no response. He called her name again, louder this time, and still she did not respond.
Grunting softly, he filled a plate with bacon and some hard biscuits he had found in the soldiers’ tent. He poured a cup of coffee and carried both to the woman’s side.
Slipping his arm under her, he lifted her into a sitting position. “You must eat.”
She stared at him blankly.
“Rebecca. You must eat now.” He picked up a piece of bacon and offered it to her.
Obedient as a child, she opened her mouth and took a bite. He fed her half of the bacon and biscuits, then held the cup to her lips so she could drink.
She sat there, unmoving, while he ate, then put out the fire.
Taking her by the hand, he drew her to her feet and led her down to the pool. He removed her clothing and then his own and then led her into the water where he washed her from head to foot.
Awareness flickered in her eyes. She stared at him and then at his hands moving over her skin. Her eyes widened in alarm and she stepped backward, putting herself out of his reach.
“Rebecca, do not be afraid. I will not hurt you.”
Crossing her arms over her breasts, she took another step backward.
He held out his hand, palm up in a gesture of appeal. “Come, the air grows cool.”
“Don’t touch me! You killed those men. So much blood! So much death!” Her voice rose in anguish. “My baby … it was you! You killed my baby!”
He stared at her in horror. “You know I did not! The child was born dead. If not for me, you would have died, too.”
“Why didn’t I die? Everything you touch dies. Why not me?”
He moved toward her, stunned by her accusations. Was that what she thought? That he had killed her child? How could she think such a thing?
“Don’t touch me!” Turning, she tried to run from him, only to stumble and fall as the water swirled around her ankles.
He caught her arm and drew her up against him. Her skin was smooth and cool against his. “Rebecca!”
“No, no!” She beat her fists against his chest. “Let me go! It’s all your fault! My baby’s dead, oh, my poor poor baby …”
He held her close, willing her to be calm, soothing her with the power of his mind and heart.
She looked up at him, her eyes filling with grief and with the horror she had suffered at the hands of the cruel men who had killed her husband and sought to defile her.
His gaze met and held hers as he stroked her hair, his mind speaking to hers, comforting her, soothing her tangled thoughts and emotions.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered the words as her memory cleared. “I was wrong to blame you.”
With a nod, he swung her into his arms and carried her to their campsite where he wrapped her in a blanket. When she was sitting in the sun, he filled the coffee cup and handed it to her, then walked back to the pool.
He pulled on his trousers and even though he had his back to her, he could feel her watching him all the while. Gathering her clothing, he returned to the camp.
She looked at him over the rim of the coffee cup. “Where did you learn to speak English?”
“I learned a little from the white trappers who trade in our village. I learned some of it from listening to you.”
Her eyes widened at that. “From me? How? When?”
He hesitated, but decided there would be no secrets between them. “I watched you and your man for several years.”
“You spied on us!”
He shook his head. He had not been spying on her, though he wasn’t sure how to convince her otherwise. “I was drawn to you.”
“Drawn to me? Why?”
“I saw you in a vision.”
Rebecca drew the blanket closer as a chill ran down her spine. “You saw me?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him for a long moment and then she drew in a deep breath. She pointed her finger at him as she released a long shaky sigh. “It’s you.” She shook her head. “It can’t be, but it is. You’re the man in my dreams.”
He frowned at her. “You have dreamed of me?”
She nodded slowly. “You were dancing high on a mountain. You danced for a long time beneath a bright yellow moon. And then you turned into a wolf. A black wolf.”
Wolf Dreamer stared at her. No one knew what he had seen in his vision save Roan Horse, the old shaman in the village. But this woman knew. Truly, she was the other half of his soul.
They spent three days in the valley while the woman recovered her strength. She watched him warily, careful not to touch him, careful not to let him touch her. She spoke only when spoken to until the morning of the fourth day.
He was packing their belongings when he looked up to find her watching him curiously.
“Do you have family where we are going?”
“My cousin, Red Otter, is there.”
“What about your parents?”
“They are dead, and my brother with them, killed by our enemy, the Crow.”
“I’m sorry.” She paused, then blurted, “You can’t really change into a wolf, can you?” she asked.
Wolf Dreamer shook his head. “No, but the wolf is my spirit guide.”
She frowned. “Spirit guide?”
“When a warrior comes of age, he seeks a vision to guide him through life.” “How can a wolf guide you through life? Especially a spirit one.”
“Wolves are held in high regard by my people. The wolf mates for life. He is a good hunter. He is wise and strong and yet mysterious. His heart is filled with courage. Among my people, it is considered a good thing to follow the ways of the wolf. It is from the wolf that I draw my power.”
“So, you worship the wolf?”
“No. We worship Wakan Tanka. The Great Spirit. He is the Giver of Life.” “You mean God?”
“Is that the name of the white man’s power?”
“Yes. And there’s only one God.”
“There must be two,” Wolf Dreamer said. “For surely the wasichu and the Lakota do not worship the same god.”
“Do you pray to your god?”
Wolf Dreamer nodded. “Yes, every morning and every evening.”
She mulled that over for a time, her expression pensive. “Do you believe in heaven?” At his frown, she said, “You know, an afterlife?”
“Yes. Wanagi Yatu, the Place of Souls. It is a land of many lodges. The hunting is always good there.”
“Do you think …” Her gaze searched his. “Do you think I’ll see my baby there?”
“Yes.”
He left her to ponder that while he finished packing their gear and saddled their horses.
She looked at him askance when he led her horse over to her. “Where are we going?” “I am going back to my people. I have been away too long.”
She felt a twinge of regret at the thought of never seeing him again. He had been kind to
her, had saved her life, defended her honor. “Thank you for helping me.”
He studied her face a moment, then grunted softly. “This is not goodbye, Rebecca. You are coming with me.”
“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “No. I’m going back where I belong.”
“You cannot go back to your house. It is not safe for you there.”
“I’m going home,” she said. “Back east, where I came from.”
“Back east? Where is back east?”
“It’s a long way from here. My people are there.” The east. She was overcome with longing at the thought of all she had left behind. Proper houses with green lawns and flower gardens. Wide streets and boardwalks. Churches and schools. Stores where she could buy the things she needed. She never should have let Gideon Hathaway talk her into going
west. She wasn’t cut out to be a frontier woman.
She held out her hand. “I wish you all the best.”
He looked at her hand a moment, then lifted her onto the back of her horse. “I cannot let you travel to this back-east place alone,” he said, handing her the reins. “You will come with me.”
“No. I’m going home.”
“You are my destiny, Rebecca. You will be the mother of my son.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide. “I am not your destiny! I never heard of such nonsense.”
“I saw you in my vision.”
“I don’t care.”
“You saw me in your dreams.”
“I … but …” She shook her head and squared her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t believe in dreams. I’m going home and you can’t stop me.” She said the last defiantly, and even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. He could easily stop her.
She knew it.
And so did he.
With a sigh of mock resignation, she followed him out of the valley. For now, she would pretend she had no choice. But only for now.
Chapter 7
“Tell me more about your people,” Rebecca said. They were crossing a wide stretch of grassland. A pair of eagles soared effortlessly overhead, making lazy circles in the sky.
“What do you wish to know?”
“Are there other spirit guides besides wolves?”
“Of course.”
“Like bears and mountain lions?”
“Mountain lions are bad signs and mean you are being stalked.”
“I see. What about other animals?”
“Badgers are good signs. They offer protection and warn of danger. Bears are good signs. They represent wisdom and strength. The buffalo is also a good sign. He possesses strong power. Coyote is a trickster, now good, now bad. You cannot trust him. The elk is a strong protector of women. It is a good sign if a woman sees an elk. Fox is a bad sign and warns of danger or sickness, but there are shamans who can use the power of the fox for good. Raccoons are good signs. When one needs help to solve a problem, it is a good idea to make a prayer to the raccoon.”
Rebecca shook her head. Pray to a raccoon! Was he serious?
“Skunks are bad signs. Witches use the power of the skunk to cause conflict and sickness.” Wolf Dreamer glanced up at the sky. ‘“Eagles are always a good sign. They represent wealth, wisdom, strength and spirituality. If an eagle comes near you when you are praying, your prayer will be answered.
“Owls are bad signs. They are messengers of evil, sickness and death. If you hear an owl hooting near your lodge, it means someone will die. Like the skunk, the power of the owl is often used by witches.
“Ravens and crows are good signs and bring good luck. Ravens can travel between this world and the next. Hawks warn of danger.
“Antelopes are messengers. If you see many of them together, it often means you will soon meet many people. A doe means that you will meet a new woman. If you see antelope fighting, it is a warning that you may soon find yourself in conflict with another.”
Rebecca shook her head. “You don’t really believe all that, do you? It’s just a lot of superstitious nonsense.”
“Are there no superstitions among your people? Is there nothing you believe in?”
Rebecca thought about that for a moment, remembering that whenever her mother spilled the salt, she threw a pinch over her shoulder to counteract the bad luck, and how her father always had a horseshoe nailed above the door of the bam to avert bad luck. And then there was the notion that black cats and broken mirrors brought misfortune. They had moved into a new house when Rebecca was nine and she recalled that her mother had bought a new broom for good luck.
“Yes,” she admitted, “I suppose we have our own superstitions.”
“My people believe that we are all related,” Wolf Dreamer said. “Animals, birds, fish, insects, the earth itself. If I can pray to the Great Spirit, why should I not also speak to my brother the wolf?”
She had no answer for that and silence fell between them once more.
They rode for hours. The sun was warm on her back. A sea of grass spread out before them, stirred by a gentle summer breeze. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back; milk stained the front of her dress. Her breasts were heavy, a constant reminder of what she had lost. She blinked back her tears, but they would not be stayed.
At the sound of her tears, Wolf Dreamer reined his horse to a stop. Dismounting, he lifted Rebecca from the saddle and wrapped her in his arms.
She rested her cheek against his chest and let the tears flow. She had lost everything she had ever loved, everything she cared for, and now she wanted nothing more than to return to the place of her birth, to her family, to the people who knew and understood her.
Wolf Dreamer’s hand, big yet gentle, stroked her hair. His voice murmured to her, soft words of comfort, and though she did not understand his words, she understood the meaning, and cried all the harder, knowing she would miss this strange man when they parted ways.
They rested often after that. Wolf Dreamer silently cursed himself for not being more considerate of the woman’s weakness. She had given birth not long ago, laid the child in the ground. She could not be expected to ride from sunrise to sunset without resting.
He made camp far earlier than he would have normally, insisted she rest while he gathered wood for the fire, then filled their canteens from a nearby stream. He prepared the food and served it to her, then sat across from her, the fire between them.
When they finished eating, he added wood to the fire and insisted she lie down. She was asleep within minutes.
He watched her for a long while. Her hair gleamed like bright mahogany in the light of the flames. There were dark shadows under her eyes.
They were different in so many ways; he knew in his heart she was meant to be his and yet … what if the People would not accept her? She was wasichu and therefore the enemy. But she had saved his life, and he was counting on that to make the difference. The People would honor and respect her for her courage if for no other reason.
After checking on the horses, he crawled under the blankets, content to lie beside her, to feel the warmth of her body, inhale the scent of her hair, her skin, listen to the soft sound of her breathing.
He closed his eyes. Soon, he thought, soon she would be his.
They traveled for several days across the prairie, seeing no one. Each day, upon rising, Rebecca told herself that she would find a way to escape before nightfall, but somehow she could never summon the energy. Lethargic and depressed, she ate and slept when she was told, too lost in her own grief to give heed to anything else.
It was only when they reached the foot of the mountain that Wolf Dreamer called home that fear took hold of her. His people lived here. People that believed in an alien god and prayed to animals.
She thought of her dream, of the huge black wolf that pursued her. She had always considered it to be nothing more than a nightmare that came to her time and again, but Wolf Dreamer believed dreams were more than just dreams. He believed in spirits and visions. If such things indeed foretold the future, and he was the wolf in her nightmare, didn’t that mean her life was in danger?
She shook off the apathy that had held her in its grasp since her baby died. If she was ever going to get away from Wolf Dreamer, it would have to be now, before it was too late. Before they arrived at his village.
Tonight. It would have to be tonight.
She went to bed right after dinner. Huddled beneath the blanket, she closed her eyes. Heart pounding, she pretended to sleep. She listened to his footsteps as he moved around the fire, heard him speak softly to the horses as he checked on them. A tingle of awareness washed over her as he slid under the covers beside her. She could feel the heat of him, smell the acrid scent of smoke in his hair.
How long would it take him to fall asleep? How would she know when it was safe to leave? How would she travel all the way back
east alone? She had no money, no clothes except what she was wearing now …
Suddenly, striking out on her own didn’t seem like such a good idea after all and yet, what other choice did she have if she wanted to get back east, where she belonged?
Wolf Dreamer would not take her, so she had no choice but to go alone.
She could do it. She had lived alone in the middle of nowhere for six months and survived. She would find her way to a town, then telegraph her parents. They would send her the money she needed to get back home.
She smiled into the darkness. All she had to do was find a town.
It seemed like hours passed before Wolf Dreamer’s breathing grew slow and steady. Moving carefully, she slid out from under the blankets and gained her feet. As quietly as she could, she saddled her horse, hooked one of the canteens over the pommel. Inch by slow inch, she eased one of the blankets off Wolf Dreamer, rolled it into a cylinder and lashed it behind the saddle. Feeling guilty, she picked up the bag of foodstuffs and tied it to the saddle horn, then gathered her horse’s reins and walked away from the camp.
Her heart was pounding with excitement and the thrill of success as she pulled herself onto her horse’s back and turned it toward the east.
“Home.” She whispered the word over and over again as a talisman to fight off her fear of the dark. “Home.” Back to Mama and Papa, where she belonged.
Wolf Dreamer sat up and stared into the darkness, listening to the sound of hoofbeats fade into the distance.
Foolish woman, to strike out on her own in the middle of the night.
Foolish man, to chase a woman who did not want him.
Rising, he saddled his horse and went after her.
He was coming. She didn’t know how she knew it with such certainty. She heard nothing. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw nothing. But she knew he was there.
Panic bubbled up inside her. If he caught her now, she would never get away. Leaning low over her horse’s neck, she drummed her heels into its flanks.
“Hurry!” she whispered. “Hurry! Hurry!”
The mare lined out in a dead run, her hooves skimming over the ground as she fairly flew over the dark prairie.
Rebecca held fast to the reins in one hand and the mare’s mane in the other. She knew it was dangerous to race through the darkness. A rock, a slight rise, a prairie dog hole, all could spell disaster and yet she raced onward, away from the strange man pursuing her, away from feelings she did not want to acknowledge, away from a future that was more frightening than the thought of being lost in the dark.
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