by Shirl Henke
It was a hot day in early June, dry and still, with the sun moving in a blinding arc across the pale-blue heavens. Nearly a year had passed since Noah's death and Perry's birth. Carrie felt the bonds linking her to Hawk and his child drawing tighter. It had grown increasingly difficult for her to wait in this endless limbo, especially with the breaking of spring and then summer. Why didn't he come home?
Carrie needed this time alone to think through her ambivalent feelings about Hawk and his long-overdue reappearance in her life. Of late she had been troubled by dreams. One was the old familiar one about the hawk that had plagued her since childhood; others were about Hawk and Lola Jameson, Noah and herself, all blurred together in confusing, chaotic images. If truth were told, she was still uncertain about her feelings for Hawk Sinclair.
Looking down at the sleeping child in front of her, Carrie felt a tremendous rush of unconditional love. But did she love the father that way also? No, it was not that simple. The past year had left deep, bitter scars. A great deal of the pain she had lived with was because of Hawk. She had learned to withstand the bigotry and sneers of the town, but did she accept his desertion which had left her to face them alone? Why had he gone to Iron Heart's village, so near Circle S, without stopping to find out about her and learn he had a son? Why doesn't he come home now?
Lonely, hurting and frightened by the enormity of her responsibility for Circle S, Carrie let her thoughts drift back over the past two years to when she had come west as a green girl, naively hoping to establish a loving relationship with Noah Sinclair. Now she scoffed at her immaturity and inability to read people. In his entire life Noah had never had a loving relationship with a living soul!
Just then, Perry awakened and began to babble in his melodic child's voice. He was hot and thirsty, letting her know his needs in no uncertain terms. When she reached for the canteen, Carrie noticed how far she had ridden, much farther than she intended or than Kyle would have approved. She had crossed the river several hours ago and was on the southwestern border of the farthest section of Circle S. She sighed in exasperation at her own absentmindedness, a defect that sorely plagued her lately.
As she turned Taffy and began to retrace her path home, her progress was watched with great interest. Spotted Horse and Little Otter, two Sioux warriors on a raiding party, had watched her aimless meandering for nearly an hour, uncertain of whether or not they should take her captive. When she abruptly wheeled her tan mare around, Little Otter spoke.
“See, the daughter of the sun returns from whence she came. Let her depart in peace with her child. We do not make war on women and children.”
His younger companion scoffed. “She is white and therefore our enemy. Her flame hair would make a scalp with very strong magic. The child would be given to one of our women who mourns the loss of her own, killed by white men.”
Just then the rest of the war party, mostly Sioux with a smattering of Cheyenne, came riding up. They had followed the tracks of Carrie's horse and those of her silent pursuers. In the lead and fast becoming one of the most vocal and belligerent of the young raiders was the Cheyenne Angry Wolf. He and a handful of other braves from Iron Heart's band had left their peaceful people to join the hostile Sioux of northern Montana. Retreating into Canada and the high country to the east, the Sioux had not yet bowed to the inevitable loss of their hunting lands or their freedom. They were still at war against the white man.
Their belligerence perfectly suited Angry Wolf's sentiments. Always a surly and embittered man, he had found his disappointments during the past several years more than he could endure. He, a leader of the prestigious Elk Warrior Society, had not been selected to sit on the tribal council of the People. That insult would not soon be lived down. He refused to admit that his arrogant and contentious disposition had anything to do with the elders' decision.
There was also the matter of the half-blood who had come to live among the People. Angry Wolf had hated Hunting Hawk since they were boys. Then Iron Heart's grandson took Wind Song in marriage. Angry Wolf could never forgive Hawk for stealing what he considered his property.
The sporadic raids against white settlers and Crow satisfied his desire for excitement and vengeance. Now he reined in his swift black mount and looked down to where Spotted Horse gestured. Below them, riding along the stream's edge, was a lone white woman, mounted on a good horse, carrying a small child. He listened absently to the exchange between the Sioux and Cheyenne braves while he watched the woman. Something about her and her horse stirred memories from the past. He had seen her before. The buckskin horse was decidedly familiar.
When Little Otter called her daughter of the sun, he caught sight of her fiery hair and remembered. It was her! The one who had come to his village two years ago with Hawk! Some in the band had gossiped, saying she was really Hawk's woman. He himself had tried to convince Wing Song of that.
And here she was with a child, riding right into his hands. Overhearing Spotted Horse's prattling about a magic scalp, Angry Wolf cut in abruptly, “She is too valuable to be killed! Look at her beauty and long, strong limbs. She will make some warrior a splendid slave! I, Angry Wolf, lay claim to her!”
With that, he kicked his big black in the flanks and began a rapid descent down the loose, rocky trail that led to the stream floor. Several of the other younger braves who were admirers of the seasoned veteran quickly followed after him.
Carrie heard the thunder of horses and clatter of loose rocks spewn forth by their slashing hooves. Quickly looking over her shoulder, she saw three Indians riding toward her from the top of the cliff. She did not know what tribe they were, but it was a foregone conclusion that they were not friendly! Leaning over Taffy's neck, she spurred the mare forward into a furious, ground-devouring gallop. Perry began to cry, held in a crushing position in front of Carrie on the racing horse.
“Oh, dear God! Why didn't I listen to Kyle? How could I have been so stupid!” Muttering under her breath as she raced helped to quell her panic so she could concentrate on guiding her horse. However, it was a losing proposition. The Indian horses were larger and fresher than hers, and the riders more skillful.
Carrie felt the force of an iron-hard arm curling around her, sweeping her and Perry clutched in her arms from Taffy Girl's back. She and her son were held tightly against the savage's side until he brought his rapidly galloping pony to a rough stop and then dumped them onto the ground. He slid after them, quickly reaching down to grasp her arm and drag her to a standing position.
As she struggled to stand up and then to calm a wailing baby, she could feel the heat of her captor's gaze on her, boldly surveying her body from head to foot. He was very tall. Indeed, they all were. Half a dozen other savages, all armed to the teeth, quickly caught up and surrounded them, jumping from horseback to survey the prize. They spoke rapidly in their language, laughing and talking. The tall, cruel-looking man who had pulled her off Taffy was gesturing to her hair and making obviously lewd comments to his companions.
As she shivered in terror, Carrie crooned to Perry, desperately trying to force herself to be calm. She must use her wits and try to save her son. Then she noticed that the Indians' attention had shifted from her to Perry. Several of them were looking at him closely and talking animatedly among themselves. Of course! They recognized his red ancestry.
She looked closely at the men, noting their facial features, the patterns of their clothing, the adornments on their weapons. Several of them were Cheyenne, including her captor! She was sure she recognized the clothing designs and even the tall, handsomely chiseled facial planes. If only they would be able to understand her. Slowly she reached inside her shirt and pulled out Hawk's medallion.
Angry Wolf was filled with an all-consuming rage as they rode steadily toward Iron Heart's camp with the flame-haired woman and the boy she claimed was Hunting Hawk's son. If only she had not possessed the medal Iron Heart brought from the White Fathers in the east! When she showed it and claimed to be Hawk's wo
man, his two companions recognized it, as did he. They were not in the village the day she visited as he had been, but they had both grown up with Hawk. White Arrow even knew enough English to understand her tale. Angry Wolf's furious bombast failed to swerve them from their course. They felt honor-bound to take her to Iron Heart. After all, did she not wear the great chiefs sacred medal? Was the manchild not of Cheyenne blood? Angry Wolfs arguments to the contrary did not sway them. Short of killing his friends, he had no choice but to take her to Iron Heart, who would decide her fate and that of the child.
He cursed the child. Looking at the boy, he could see the old women of the village had gossiped truthfully. He was Hawk's son, all right. A fierce anger burned in him that the child would escape his vengeance, but the woman must not. There was a good chance the chief would allow him to keep her, Angry Wolf consoled himself. Ever since Wind Song had died and with her Iron Heart's hopes for a great-grandchild, the old man had been bitter against the veho and their diseases. Now he would welcome his great-grandson, but he would not want the white woman in his lodge. At least, Angry Wolf convinced himself this would be so.
The daughter of the sun would be his white slave! When Hawk returned from his long journey taking Bright Leaf to her parents, he would be too late. Angry Wolf would have bedded her and she would belong to him. Satisfied that his plans had only been postponed, not thwarted, he became calm, watching her with hot, hungry eyes as she rode next to him.
Carrie marveled that she had been successful in convincing them to take her to Iron Heart's encampment. Thank God they recognized the medallion. Two of the men had argued with her captor, prevailing over him. One even spoke halting English and said he was a friend of Hawk's.
Looking over at Angry Wolf, she shuddered. Even his eyes on her made her skin crawl. His hands on her would be a horror beyond imagining. She did not recognize him from her brief visit to the encampment, nor know he was Hawk's longtime rival and deadly foe. Nevertheless, she could feel more than simple lust emanating from him as he watched her. He was demented, wanting to inflict pain. She said a silent prayer for Iron Heart's sense of justice and prayed Hawk would be there when they arrived.
They rode until almost dark. Then the Sioux left, and the Cheyenne led her into a narrow ravine through which a clear stream meandered. After following its twisting course for several hundred yards, they rounded a bend and came upon a wide, grassy valley. In its center was the encampment. It did not seem as large as it had two summers ago. Perhaps it was only the difference in the site that made it appear smaller.
Carrie scanned the faces of the people who stood impassively as she was led into the center of the horseshoe configuration of tepees. Trying desperately to maintain her dignity, for she knew the Cheyenne respected courage, she sat straight and tall on Taffy, holding Perry securely in front of her. All the while she continued to look in vain for Hawk.
The village was much as she remembered, a summer camp with men sharpening knives, fletching arrows, and cleaning rifles while women stirred steaming pots over open fires, pounded fruit with dried meat in stone mortars, and tanned hides stretched on broad frames across the ground. A motley assortment of small children who were playing with balls and sticks now stopped to stare in wonder at the veho woman with the strange and wondrous hair. One small girl with luminous brown eyes clutched a doll to her thin chest and regarded Perry with shy curiosity. She resembled Bright Leaf, Carrie thought with a sudden pang. Was the child still in the camp? Suddenly Carrie felt less afraid, eager to confront Iron Heart and show him his great-grandson.
By the time the war party reached Iron Heart's lodge, word had already spread like wildfire through the village. However, the chief did not come out to greet them. Angry Wolf, White Arrow, and Owl Man dismounted.
Carrie waited expectantly, but the buffalo-hide flap of the lodge did not open. Taking the initiative, she grasped Perry firmly and dismounted, then marched toward the opening of the big lodge. Angry Wolf stepped quickly in her way and grasped her cruelly by one arm, saying something in Cheyenne that was obviously a harsh reprimand. He then stepped inside the tepee and dragged her roughly behind him. Almost losing her balance as she stooped to enter while holding Perry, she quickly righted herself and stood proudly, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom.
Iron Heart sat near the center of the large circular interior. He looked older, sadder and subdued, Carrie thought. Then the chief motioned for Angry Wolf to speak. After a brief exchange in which the old man interrupted with a number of questions, the two other Cheyenne were called.
Carrie stood in the center of the group of men, uncertain if she should say anything. Angry Wolf no longer held on to her, but his very presence next to her was threat enough. He seemed to think he owned her. She knew it was customary for women to remain silent in any serious deliberation such as this, but she did not understand what they were saying and desperately wanted to present her side. Surely Iron Heart would recognize his own flesh and blood!
She fixed her attention on the old man as he conversed with the three warriors. Not once did he look at Perry. Her heart sank. Then he abruptly dismissed them all and motioned for her to stay. With a snarled oath, Angry Wolf turned and stalked out of the lodge with the other two behind him.
“Sit, Carrie Sinclair.” It was his first acknowledgment of her existence. As she knelt on the thick cushion of pelts where he indicated, she watched him study Perry. The boy stared with huge, glowing black eyes at the wizened face before him. After several seconds of mutual perusal, the chief spoke again with a grunt of acceptance. “He is the son of Hunting Hawk. There can be no doubt of it.”
“Where is Hawk?” Carrie could wait no longer to speak.
“Where is your husband?” His words were measured but nonetheless accusing.
She was shocked, but then realization swept over her. No one here knew! “Noah died a year ago, before Perry was born.”
“But not before he was conceived,” came the gentle rebuke. His eyes suddenly seemed weary, defeated and hurt.
Her face flamed red as her hair under Iron Heart's intense scrutiny. Never with any of the priggish townspeople or even with Kyle had she felt this discomfort. Collecting herself, Carrie looked him squarely in the eye. “I make no apologies. I was forced against my will to marry a man who was a cruel, vindictive animal.” She paused and took a swallow for courage. “Hawk and I lived under his roof. We were thrown together repeatedly, until we couldn't resist any longer. After one night with me, Hawk's sense of honor compelled him to leave. I loved him, and when Perry was born I was overjoyed that he was Hawk's son, not Noah's.” She stopped and looked from Iron Heart to Perry, a glow of intense love and pride infusing her face.
“He gave you that?” The old man gestured to the medallion hanging proudly between her breasts.
“Yes. After—after we spent that one night together, he placed it around my neck. I knew how much he valued it because he always wore it.” She unconsciously stroked its intricate, gleaming surface. “Then he left. I haven't seen him in a year and a half. Is he here?” Her heart was in her throat now.
Iron Heart sighed. He should have known he could not go against the will of the Powers. This was ordained, even if it boded ill for his grandson and the young woman who sat so proudly before him. “He has lived with the People through two snows. You will find him much changed, I fear. We are all of us much changed. Many have died from the spotted throat—what you call diphtheria.”
“Bright Leaf,” Carrie cut in abruptly. “She's all right?”
He nodded. “That is why Hunting Hawk is not in the village. He is taking her to her parents. This spring we finally received word of them. There will be much rejoicing in their camp,” he said wistfully.
“When will he return?” She could not keep the anticipation out of her voice.
Iron Heart fixed her with a penetrating stare, both a rebuke and a warning in his manner. “It will be several days. There are many things to consider before he r
eturns.”
Something in his voice sent a ripple of apprehension through her. “What did you mean when you said he is much changed?”
“He has been married,” he said levelly.
Carrie sat riveted to the ground. If she had been hit full in the heart with a sledge hammer, it could not have hurt more. Married! He left her alone to face Noah's killing wrath, deserted her to bear his son and live down all the censure, and then he married another!
Her face betrayed her anguish and her anger to Iron Heart. He watched her stroke the hair on her exhausted son's head as he lay sleeping on the pallet. She had reason to be hurt, he supposed, but then, so did Wind Song, so did he. “His wife is dead. Killed by the spotted throat, she and her unborn child.”
Carrie's eyes were huge and dark green as she fixed them on him, eloquent with pain. “It was Wind Song, wasn't it?” She already knew.
He nodded. “Hunting Hawk blames all whites for their deaths, even himself. Maybe most of all himself,” he said sadly, thinking of the bleak desolation that still enwrapped Hawk, even six months later.
“What will happen now, Iron Heart? Will he want his son?” Will he want me? She sat very still, pondering all that had happened. Could she forgive what she perceived as a betrayal? Did she still love him?
The old man's next words shocked her. “I must confer with the other chiefs. Angry Wolf is a powerful man in our band, and he has claimed you. You belong to no man now, not He Who Walks in Sun, not Hunting Hawk. Many in our band want to join with our Sioux brothers and take up arms against the veho. Angry Wolf is their leader. If the elders do not deal fairly with him, it may lead many more young warriors to sing their wolf songs and go to war. I would not have this.”
“But you cannot give me to that horrible man! Keeping a white captive would bring the army down on you for certain!” She was really terrified now. “What of your great-grandson? Angry Wolf doesn't want him. I fear he'd kill my son!”