Black Horse

by Veronica Blake

  Black Horse crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his heels. His casual stance did not even begin to match the turmoil he was feeling inside. He felt his breath lodged tightly in his dry throat, and there was something fluttering wildly in his stomach like the wings of a bird. He had always prided himself on his common sense, but now his mind was spinning with the seductive things he had been thinking about ever since he had first glimpsed this woman in the bushes. But that was before he had known that she was White Buffalo’s daughter. Shy and modest…ha!

  Instinctively, Black Horse glanced at White Buffalo. He hoped the wise old medicine man was not able to guess the immodest thoughts that were filling his head at this moment. When he noticed that White Buffalo was looking at him with a look of expectation, Black Horse was overcome with embarrassment. He glanced away quickly.

  The strange exchange between Black Horse and Meadow did not go unnoticed. White Buffalo assumed Black Horse’s behavior was due to surprise over seeing that his daughter was not Sioux. He had grown accustomed to this reaction throughout the years and was not hesitant to declare that Meadow was his daughter in every way, regardless of her true bloodline or the color of her skin. But he had other things on his mind right now.

  “Black Horse is to be thanked,” White Buffalo said, intruding into the strained silence. “He has provided us with enough meat to fill our bellies for many sunrises. With the white man’s whiskey we will be able to forget for a time about the pain and hunger of the past few moons. He has truly given us a reason to celebrate,” White Buffalo said in an excited tone as he looked at his daughter and Gentle Water.

  “My grandmother and I thank you,” Gentle Water said in a raspy tone of voice. She stepped back from the others as she bowed her head meekly and mumbled that she had to go help her grandmother, then twirled around and made a hasty retreat before anyone had a chance to stop her.

  Meadow tore her attention away from the chief and stared at her father. He was still unaware of her panic, and she knew that she must also acknowledge Black Horse’s generosity before her father became suspicious. She turned to Black Horse. His dark penetrating stare was focused directly on her again, and his mouth still wore a crooked smile. His eyes twinkled—probably in anticipation of the payback he was planning. She took a trembling breath and swallowed hard.

  “Th-thank you for—for your kindness and generosity,” she murmured. His expression did not change, nor did her feeling of helplessness. Without blinking, she continued to stare up into his dark, twinkling eyes.

  His patronizing attitude cut Meadow’s pride, but the humiliation she felt quickly turned to anger. They had just thanked him for the gifts he brought to the village. Yet, instead of accepting their gratitude graciously, he acted as if he wanted them to fall down to the ground and kiss his feet. She clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides. It had been wrong to spy on him today at the river, and she would readily admit this to him. But she refused to be intimidated by him now. Most of all, she would not allow him to be rude when they were in the presence of White Buffalo. She glanced back and forth between the two men. Compared to the wisdom and greatness of her father, Black Horse was nothing more than a strutting rooster.

  Black Horse’s taunting grin grew even wider. The fire in this woman’s bright eyes and the scarlet blush in her pale cheeks excited him in a way he had never known. She had spirit, and he liked a feisty woman. Now, more than ever, he wanted to see how the flames of passion would also light up her face. He glanced nervously at White Buffalo. He had to break free of the spell this woman was casting on him before he made a complete fool of himself. He was a fearless warrior, the youngest war chief in the entire Sioux Nation! Nothing could distract him when he was in battle against his enemies. Why was he letting this green-eyed woman affect him so profoundly now? Drawing on the last of his waning control, he pulled himself up to his full height and raised his chin up to a proud tilt.

  Turning toward White Buffalo, Black Horse wiped the crude smile from his face. He bowed his head humbly toward the older man, carefully choosing each of his words before he spoke. White Buffalo was a man to reckon with, especially since Black Horse hoped to make him a strong ally—in more ways than one.

  “You and your daughter are very kind to thank me, but I gladly bring food to my people.” Black Horse’s expression grew serious. Then, hitting a closed fist against his chest, he added in an emotional tone, “I will do anything for my people. I will die for my people.” Though his words were not spoken to impress, Black Horse could not miss the look of admiration on the older man’s face.

  Briefly, Black Horse let his gaze settle back on Meadow. She did not seem to impress as easily as her father. A growing sense of determination flooded through him. He had never been injured seriously in battle, and he would not allow this woman to wound his pride now. Proving to her that he was a good man was a challenge he was looking forward to.

  White Buffalo turned toward his daughter, and words began to tumble rapidly from his mouth. “Black Horse is very brave, and his medicine is very strong.” The old man smiled widely, and little lines crinkled around his dark eyes. “I would be proud to call him my son…and my daughter’s husband.” White Buffalo’s announcement seemed to surprise the medicine man as much as it did everyone else. He understood now why earlier today he had had such a strong sense that Meadow was about to meet the man she would marry.

  Meadow was speechless as she turned to stare at her father. She dared not look in Black Horse’s direction, because she did not want to see his reaction to her father’s ridiculous proposal. He couldn’t be serious—could he? An uncomfortable silence followed.

  “I—I would also be proud to be related to s-such a great medicine man,” she heard Black Horse stammer. Meadow remained rooted to the spot. This could not be happening. She was even more shocked when Black Horse leaned toward her and almost touched his face against hers as he added, “And I would consider myself the luckiest man in the Sioux Nation to have such a beautiful, shy and modest wife.”

  The shame his words induced made Meadow’s anger return. She tried to think of a way to get out of this terrible predicament. Then, she thought of her aging father. To disagree or refuse this proposal would be to go against his wishes. She would also be disobeying the customs of the tribe, as it was not uncommon for parents to arrange marriages for their children. She drew in a trembling breath. There was only one thing she could do now.

  She focused on the depths of Black Horse’s intense gaze. His expression was set in a determined mask that told her he would not be swayed from this course. She forced a weak smile and nodded her head as she stared at the ground in resignation.

  White Buffalo chuckled with satisfaction and caught his daughter in a loving embrace. Meadow glanced up at her father but could not even begin to fake a tiny bit of the happiness that he was obviously feeling at this moment.

  The old medicine man released his hold on Meadow and reached out to slap Black Horse playfully on the forearm. “We will have a smoke to celebrate this forthcoming marriage.”

  “And another drink,” Black Horse added. Had he imagined the high-pitched tone in his voice? He glanced at Meadow. Her face was drained of all color. She looked as dazed as he felt.

  When she glanced his way, the sparks of anger that flashed in her eyes excited him. Her hostile feelings were quite obvious, and Black Horse was sure she would rather be eaten by a grizzly bear than marry him.

  The last thing he had planned to do was to take a wife, but White Buffalo was an honored man among the Sioux, and Black Horse would never disrespect the elder man. Nor could he dishonor his daughter. Maybe it was time for him to think about something other than fighting his enemies. He glanced at Meadow again. She looked at him as if she considered him her enemy. To his surprise, Black Horse realized that if this marriage was really going to take place, it was important to him that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He sensed he had his work cut out for him.
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  He would be responsible for this woman in all ways, and for her family, too. He glanced back at White Buffalo. In spite of his advanced age, it did not appear that the powerful and capable medicine man would require too much of his attention. His gaze moved to Meadow again. He would like to be responsible for teaching her the ways of lovemaking between a man and a woman. She had already taught him something. Until a few short minutes ago, he never would have believed that there was a woman alive that he would actually think about marrying. His heart began to beat faster. Well, if he was going to take a wife, she might as well be one that made hot lava rush through his veins.

  White Buffalo pulled a catlinite pipe from the sash that was tied around his waist. The long pipe was adorned with a carved ea gle’s head. Porcupine quills and feathers dangled from leather ties at one end. He grabbed the beaded pouch that was also hanging from his belt, which contained the potent tobacco they would pack in the pipe. “Come then, mi-cin-ksi, we have more to celebrate now.”

  Black Horse nodded obediently. White Buffalo had just called him mi-cin-ksi—son. Without looking at Meadow again, he began to walk away with long strides. He felt a desperate need to sit by the fire with the other warriors, to drink and smoke and let his pounding heart become calm. Then, maybe, he could escape from the emotions that were raging through him now…the ones he once thought he would never allow himself to feel. He had already lost too many people that he cared about in his lifetime. The thought of marrying and starting a family only increased his fear that he would lose more people that he loved. Uninvited, thoughts of living a peaceful life with the green-eyed woman here in the lush forests of Canada filled his mind. Was that possible?

  Then, reality intruded. He remembered what the white men had done to his people, and why he could never find peace again.

  How could he even think of taking a white woman to be his wife? Underneath the Indian dress, Meadow was still a white woman—and so his greatest enemy. But the thought of what was underneath her doeskin dress redirected his attention. He felt the swell of his manhood tighten against his breechcloth. The color of her skin would not matter once he had her firm young body pinned beneath him on the soft fur robes in his tepee.

  He glanced at White Buffalo once more and was reminded of how different his people were from the white men. The Sioux judged one another by what was in a person’s heart. Meadow must have a heart like a Sioux, or else White Buffalo would not have accepted her as his own daughter so easily.

  Yes, Black Horse told himself, he could claim this white woman for his wife.

  White Buffalo handed the younger man the long pipe. Smoke trailed up from the narrow end and the strong odor of tobacco filled Black Horse’s nostrils. He took the pipe and was reminded of how it was customary for a Sioux man to court a woman by playing love songs on a flute, bringing gifts to her father and engaging in silly courtship games. An impatient grunt escaped from Black Horse at the thought of partaking in these useless rituals. Meadow probably wouldn’t appreciate the lengths to which he was willing to go for her, but his intuition told him that she was worth it.

  Chapter Four

  “I cannot marry him!”

  “But you must not disobey your father,” Gentle Water replied. She pulled the woven blanket from Meadow’s head. She had been hiding under it for most of the evening. “White Buffalo sent me to get you now. Get up before you get us both in trouble.”

  Meadow shook her head defiantly. “No, I will not go. It’s too humiliating to be around that man after we watched him—you know?”

  A giggle escaped Gentle Water as she attempted to pull Meadow to her feet. “Do you really think a man like Black Horse would marry you just to pay you back for watching him take a bath?”

  “Maybe,” Meadow retorted. Her logic sounded ridiculous even to her own ears. She satisfied her friend by allowing her to pull her up to a standing position. With her hands on her hips, Meadow faced the other girl. She had not lit a fire, so only a faint sliver of moonlight shone through the smoke outlet in the top of the tepee, and she could not see Gentle Water’s face clearly.

  “Why would a man like Black Horse want to marry me?” Meadow asked. Because she still had no intention of going, she had not changed into her ceremonial gown or fixed her hair for the eve ning’s festivities.

  “Maybe he likes you,” Gentle Water said with an accompanying shrug. She did not tell her dear friend that many members of the tribe were also baffled as to why the chief would want to take a woman who was not a Sioux as his wife. She had heard whispered comments at the celebration to night, but no one wanted to anger Black Horse or insult White Buffalo, so they were careful not to voice their opinions too loudly.

  Meadow wished now that she had lit a fire so that she could look into her friend’s eyes as they talked. Something else was bothering Gentle Water, and she could usually read hidden thoughts in her friend’s expression.

  “Have you heard Black Horse talking about me tonight?” She drew in a worried breath. What did he really think of her?

  Since they were still holding hands, she pulled Gentle Water to the tepee entrance and yanked back the flap to allow the pale moonlight to enter. “You must tell me if you know something!”

  Gentle Water shrugged and glanced down at the ground. Meadow had been here almost all of her life, and because of White Buffalo’s complete devotion to her, no one had ever dared suggest that she didn’t belong here. Until to night, Gentle Water had never heard a word said against Meadow, but regardless of how much they all loved and accepted her, it did not change the fact that she was not a Sioux.

  “I know of nothing that he has said,” Gentle Water said. It was true. Black Horse had not said anything about the impending marriage at all. Only White Buffalo had been raving all eve ning about the upcoming union. The young chief sat at his side, merely smiling and nodding and looking as if he was in some sort of a trance.

  Meadow drew in a deep breath. She was certain Gentle Water was keeping something from her. “What has been said about the marriage?

  “Your father is very, very proud that his future son-in-law is such an admired man in the tribes. He has told everyone!” Gentle Water followed her out into the open as Meadow exited the tepee. “Let’s go before he comes to see why I have not yet returned with you.”

  Meadow turned toward the other girl. Now, with the full force of the pale moonlight shining down upon them, she could study her face more closely as she asked, “Black Horse has said nothing—nothing at all about the marriage or about me?”

  Gentle Water shook her head and repeated, “No, Black Horse has not said a word about you or the marriage. Why do you care so much? I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “I never said that I didn’t like him.” Meadow threw her hands up in the air in an exasperated gesture. This was all too confusing. At her age, she should be thrilled that she was getting married, and especially to a powerful, virile war chief.

  Meadow’s stomach started to ache. Maybe his reluctance to speak about the proposal meant that he had no intention to follow through with her father’s plan.

  Gentle Water eased her arm around her friend’s shoulder and gave her an affectionate hug. “I think you like Black Horse more than you care to admit.”

  “I don’t even know him,” Meadow returned. “The only thing I know about him is that he is—” Her words faltered as she began to recall the sight of his muscled, naked body.

  “He’s the most handsome of all the warriors and chiefs, and he looks wonderful without his breechcloth, and—” She giggled when she heard Meadow’s gasp. “Oh, you didn’t notice that, did you?”

  “I don’t ever want to think or talk about it again,” Meadow retorted as she started back into the tepee. She did not want Gentle Water to know just how affected she was by the dangerously handsome chief.

  Laughing, Gentle Water grabbed her arm as she tried to escape. “Oh, no you don’t. Your father said to bring you back with me, and I’m not leav
ing here without you.”

  Meadow pulled Gentle Water along with her as she ducked back through the tepee door. “No, I will not go, so you might as well go back and tell my father that I am not coming!”

  Gentle Water dropped her arms down at her sides in exasperation. “Some are saying that you should be grateful that such a great man even wants to marry a white wo—” She cut her words off and threw her hand over her mouth.

  Meadow’s footsteps faltered as the other girl’s words took meaning. Gentle Water had never spoken to her about the differences in their nationalities in all the years they had known each other. “Gentle Water, does it matter to you that I’m not Sioux, that I…am white?” she asked in a low voice.

  Gentle Water reached out in the darkness and put her arm around Meadow’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, my dear friend. I do not judge you by the color of your skin, you have to know that.”

  “But…” Meadow turned to face Gentle Water, once again wishing that she could clearly see the other girl’s expression as they spoke. “Obviously there are others in the village who do judge me because of this, and Black Horse is probably one of them.” Gentle Water’s silence was not the answer she had hoped for.

  Meadow drew in a trembling breath and moved away from her friend. She made her way to the mound of fur robes at the far corner of the lodge that served as her bed. She knew the location of every item in this tepee and did not need light to see where she was going. As she slumped down on the furs, she tried to force back the tears that were threatening to fall. “Please let me be alone now, Gentle Water.”

  “I can’t leave you like this,” Gentle Water said as she cautiously made her way across the darkened lodge. “It was not my intent to say something that would hurt you. It’s just that I overheard a few comments to night about Black Horse not marrying one of his own. They did not mean anything bad by their words.” Her foot touched the pile of robes, and she sank down and reached out until she had located Meadow’s hand. As she clasped it, she added, “Even though you look different, you are still one of us. Please believe me.”