Brave Heart

by Lindsay McKenna

  Disgusted, Wolf jerked his head up, glaring across the way at Cante Tinza. He laughed harshly at himself for giving her such a name. This kind of behavior wasn’t becoming to someone who carried such an honored name. Perhaps Little Swallow and Evening Star were wrong about her. In the heat of the attack, their imaginations might have made this red-haired one larger than life. Girding himself for another of her revilements of him, Wolf slowly unwound and got to his feet, holding her fearful look. Whether she liked it or not, he was going to tend and nurse her back to health. Walling off the disappointment in his heart, he strode purposefully toward her. As he drew closer, her shrieks got louder and louder. Crouching down, Wolf leaned forward. Just then, he saw her clawlike fingers come up, slashing out toward him as if she were a cornered cougar.

  Chapter Three

  Wolf grunted, feeling the razor slash of her fingernails sink deep into his left cheek. Throwing himself backward to avoid her second slash, he fell close to the small altar and fire in the center of the tepee.

  Serena dragged herself up to a sitting position, breathing harshly through her mouth. The Indian raised his hand, his large palm pressed against his bloody cheek. His eyes grew thundercloud black as the silence around them became palpable. It was only a matter of minutes before he’d attack her just as Kingston had, she feared. Was there no end to her suffering?

  Pain throbbed through his cheek, and Wolf felt his anger soar upward like a mighty golden eagle taking flight. The woman was shaking so badly that he wondered how long she could sustain her own weight. Her emerald eyes were glazed with darkness and fear.

  A frantic scratching at the door caused Wolf to look toward the entrance. “Come!” he muttered.

  Little Swallow quickly came inside, her square face filled with concern. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at Wolf. Then she looked over at the red-haired woman.

  “Wolf,” she called softly, moving toward the wasicun, “do not move. She’s frightened. Can’t you see that?”

  Hiding his bruised pride, Wolf leaped to his feet. He savagely rubbed his bloody palm down his left thigh. “I see that she is wilder than any animal.”

  Serena’s gaze went between the man and the woman. Despite her fear, she instinctively realized that the younger woman who was now holding her hand out toward her meant protection. Her arms collapsed, and Serena fell back on the robe. Exhausted beyond her last reserve, she sank back, helplessly watching the woman approach her.

  “Tiblo, do not be angry. I told you before, she has been hurt by men.“ Little Swallow slowly approached the pallet and then knelt down. Although she had suffered rape, she ignored her own discomfort and turned all her attention to the wasicun. Her hair was unbraided because she had been preparing for bed when she heard the screams coming from Wolf’s tepee. “Let me talk with her. Perhaps I can calm her.”

  Rubbing his square jaw, Wolf stalked over to his pallet. “I do not care what you do.“ He opened the medicine parfleche to look for a powder to place upon the four deep scratches on his cheek.

  Little Swallow gave her brother an understanding look. “She is like any mistreated animal, tiblo. You must be gentle around her and not cause her more fear. Of all people, you can sense fear around someone. She smells of it. I think I know how she feels. Patience…let me speak with her.”

  Serena watched the Indian woman extend her hand as if in friendship. “H-help me,” she rasped. “I must escape. I—I can’t—won’t—allow him to touch me….”

  “Sshh,” Little Swallow soothed. “Friends,” she began awkwardly, always finding English an unwieldy tongue. “You, me, friends. Yes?”

  Friends. Was the woman telling the truth? “Please, help me. Don’t let him touch me.”

  “No one hurt you. Name is Little Swallow. Yours?”

  “Serena.”

  “Suna?”

  Her head ached so badly that she closed her eyes. “Serena. Little Swallow, where am I?”

  Picking up the small wooden bowl, Little Swallow slipped it into a larger vessel filled with water. “We are Lakota. Remember river? You helped us?“ She moved slowly so as not to frighten the wasicun. “Thirsty?”

  The promise of water made Serena open her eyes. She recalled Little Swallow’s face and the fact that she had been raped. Her heart went out to the Lakota woman. “Yes, I remember the river.“ She reached out for the bowl. “P-please…”

  Smiling gently, Little Swallow slipped her arm beneath Serena’s shoulders. “Friends,” she repeated softly, placing the bowl against her trembling lower lip. “Friends.”

  Wolf, now holding a cloth against his smarting cheek, watched Little Swallow treat Cante Tinza as if she were one of her own children. The exertion and combat had left the red-haired one fragile, her skin stretched taut against the bones of her face. He smarted with guilt, realizing he’d caused that reaction within her. Wapiya were healers, not destroyers. She tried to hold the bowl, but couldn’t, so his sister held it for her. Patiently, Little Swallow filled the bowl again and again until her thirst was sated.

  “Thank you,” Serena whispered, grateful to be laid back down on the robe. The effort to keep her eyes open drained her.

  “Sleep now. You with friends.“ Little Swallow pulled the robe across her shoulders, tucking her in. “A warrioress should long rest after hard battle. Wolf is right—you a brave heart.”

  Wolf watched Little Swallow hold the woman’s hand until she fell into a deep sleep. Then his sister placed the bowl next to the water gourd and got up, walking to where he sat.

  “How badly did she scratch you?“ she asked, removing the cloth from his cheek to examine the injuries.

  “She hurt my pride more than anything,” Wolf grumped. “I was playing with Dawn Sky when she awoke.”

  Cleaning the wounds, Little Swallow sighed. “And she was confused, no doubt.”

  “Fear,” he muttered, “I saw nothing but fear in her eyes. It was as if I were some hated, ugly thing to her. I tried to speak in her language to tell her I was her friend, but she became heyoka, crazy.”

  “Well,” Little Swallow replied, making Wolf tip his head to one side while she applied the powder to stop the bleeding, “I don’t think her reaction is to you personally.”

  He slid his sister a wry glance. “That makes me feel better.”

  Giggling softly, Little Swallow patted his shoulder. “Her fear is of men. All men.”

  “Because of the torture she has endured?”

  “Exactly.”

  Wolf managed a lopsided smile of thanks when Little Swallow completed her task. He motioned toward the woman. “What am I going to do with her, then? How can I treat her wounds if she fears me?”

  “Let Deer Woman help Serena. You can see she does not fear her own kind.”

  Grimacing, Wolf rubbed his brow. Where was Deer Woman? She ought to be in by now and sleeping. Was she out with Swift Elk, the brave who wanted her hand in marriage? Wolf shifted his thoughts back to his patient. “Is that her name? Suna?”

  “Yes. I wonder if it means anything?”

  Wolf shook his head. “The traders said their names meant nothing. The names are hollow, like all wasicuns.”

  “Most wasicuns,” Little Swallow corrected, “but not her.”

  The fire was dying and Wolf got up, moving over to the small stack of wood just inside the tepee door. He placed a few sticks on it and came back to sit down with his sister. “I worry that Deer Woman may become jealous and mistreat Cante Tinza…I mean, Suna.”

  “Then I will care for her.”

  Placing his arm around Little Swallow, he shook his head. “You do too much for all others, tanksi.” And then Wolf looked at her closely, seeing the ravages of the attack she had suffered hidden in her brown eyes. Little Swallow was just as upset as the red-haired one, yet coping with it better. “And what of you?“ he asked, squeezing her shoulders. “Have you rested this day after the attack? Or did you allow your husband and all your children to make their usual requests u
pon you?”

  She rested her head on Wolf’s shoulder for a moment. “My way of dealing with the attack is to remain busy, tiblo. That way, my head and feelings won’t overwhelm me.“ Little Swallow gestured wearily to Serena. “This one mirrors what I feel inside, only she wears it on the outside. A while ago, my husband came over to hold me, and I shrank from him. I was shocked at my actions, and so was he. I told him how I felt inside, that I feared the touch of any man since the miner had his way with me….”

  Wolf wrapped his other arm around his sister. “Do you feel fear now?“ he asked, his voice laden with emotion over her suffering.

  Sighing, Little Swallow shook her head. “With you, I only feel peace and protection, tiblo.” And then she laughed. “But I have always felt that with you. Cante Tinza is fortunate.”

  Snorting, Wolf muttered, “Why?”

  “Because she has you. When she realizes that you are as gentle as a mother with her newborn foal, she will no longer fight you. She will cease to see that you are a man who might hurt her once again and begin to respond to you on a deeper, more important level—from her heart. I know you are a brave warrior who has counted coup many times, but in your heart you are a gentle man. Cante Tinza will sense that. She is a woman, and her heart will eventually outweigh her fear.”

  Wolf wasn’t so sure, but his worry right now was Little Swallow. In the dim firelight he could see how washed out her skin had become. He loved his sister fiercely because she embodied all that was good in a woman. Little Swallow was unselfish and generous with others. Sometimes to her own detriment, he thought. Giving her another affectionate hug, he helped her to her feet.

  “Come, I will walk you back to your lodge. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Reaching up, Little Swallow pressed a chaste kiss on his uninjured cheek. “You are a healer by simply holding me, tiblo. I feel better already. And no, do not walk with me. Stay with Cante Tinza. She needs you….”

  “I must try and find a way to get her to trust me enough to help her.”

  Little Swallow rolled her eyes. “Ho, tiblo, you are a great wapiya, but surely you realize your limitations. Give Deer Woman a chance to help Cante Tinza get used to us and our way of life. Deer Woman is a child not given to envy and jealousy.”

  “No, just dreams that will never be,” Wolf muttered unhappily.

  Patting his hand, Little Swallow moved toward the entrance. “I saw Deer Woman speaking with Swift Elk earlier. Perhaps he courts her more strongly than ever now that she lives with you. Call me if you need help with Cante Tinza.”

  “I hope Deer Woman comes to her senses and marries the brave. If Cante Tinza refuses my help, I will call you,” he promised gloomily.

  Little Swallow turned, a wistful expression on her face. “She is like a hurt child, Wolf, this red-haired one of yours. Your greatest gift as a wapiya is placing yourself within another person’s moccasins. Understand her fear and pain.“ Her eyes grew misty with love for him. “If anyone can earn her trust, it is you.”

  Wolf wasn’t so sure of Little Swallow’s parting words. Getting up, he carried his parfleche across the tepee to where Serena now slept. Kneeling at her side, he carefully moved several strands of clean red hair away from her right temple. The injury was healing well. White Buffalo Calf Woman had answered his prayers.

  But what had he prayed for? As he rested his hands on the hard surface of his thighs, he studied her face. The face of a proud woman. Just the angular shape of her features told him she was a spirited warrioress. Her cleft chin did nothing but confirm that even more. But it was the softness of her parted mouth that drew his attention. Wolf felt the heat within his loins stir as he stared in fascination at her lips. Despite the pallor of her flesh, they were the color of ripe red raspberries in season. The brown spots that dotted her skin across her cheeks and nose made her look childlike.

  Pulling the robe down to her waist, Wolf took the risk of waking her. The dressings on the burns that scarred her lovely breasts had to be changed three times daily. Thanks to the comfrey root powder the injuries were making miraculous progress, but they needed constant attention.

  Serena lay in a cotton gown that Wolf had traded for years before. His gut tightened as he carefully lifted away the dressings. Wolf laughed at himself. A part of him expected her to draw from sleep and explode into the fury of a cornered cougar again. But she slept deeply, unaware of his cautious ministrations.

  Halfway through the changing of dressings, Deer Woman slipped into the tepee.

  “Where have you been?“ he demanded in a low voice, not wanting to awaken Cante Tinza.

  Deer Woman moved to her pallet, taking Dawn Sky from the cradleboard to check the wetness of the dried moss that was used to soak up the baby’s urine.

  “I was out for a walk.”

  “Little Swallow says that Swift Elk was with you.”

  Shaken by Wolf’s growling demeanor, she reached for the soft, dry cattail mixture and placed it within Dawn Sky’s fawnskin diaper. “I—yes, he wanted to see me. I came back when I heard screams.”

  Wolf kept his attention on Serena. He didn’t speak again until he’d completed the dressings and moved back to his pallet. Sitting cross-legged, he watched Deer Woman gently care for his niece.

  “The screams came from the one called Cante Tinza. Little Swallow came to help me with her because you weren’t here.”

  Deer Woman heard the censure in his voice and chose to ignore it. “She screamed because she is with us?”

  Wolf stared down at the altar, which contained a golden eagle feather and a bear fetish carved out of red pipestone. “No,” he muttered, “she is afraid of men. All men.”

  Giggling, Deer Woman replaced the coverlet over the baby and began unbraiding her hair. “That is silly.”

  Snapping his head in her direction, Wolf nailed her with a blazing look. “Foolish child! How can I count on you to help her if you laugh at her fears?”

  Hands frozen on her braid, Deer Woman stared hurtfully across the way at him. “Why do you chide me, Black Wolf? Are you angry that I left the tepee for a while? I have been stuck in here all day without rest. I have cooked and sewn. And then I picked up and folded the robes and cleaned the tepee. After all that, I went down to the bank to gather willows for new baskets that you need. Am I not allowed a few moments of rest?”

  Grimly, Wolf shook his head. His gut instinct had been correct: Deer Woman could not deal with Cante Tinza. She wasn’t envious or jealous of the wasicun, but simply lacked the experience or skills necessary to deal with her wild, fluctuating emotions. Further, a woman took pride in the work she had to do around a tepee and for others. Little Swallow or Evening Star would never complain over such tasks. Deer Woman was a spoiled and lazy girl, little more. Exhaling forcefully, Wolf lay down and jerked the buffalo robe across him.

  “From now on,” he muttered, “you are to care for Dawn Sky only. I will tend to Cante Tinza.”

  Blinking, Deer Woman began once again to unbraid her hair. “Well, of course, if that’s what you want, Black Wolf.”

  She knew he was angry at her. Why? Was he jealous now that she had told him that Swift Elk had met with her? Hope mushroomed within her heart once again. Spirits lifting, Deer Woman began to hum a lullaby. This was the first inkling she had had that Wolf really cared for her. And what of Serena? Well, he was the wapiya, so naturally, he would want to care for her himself.

  * * *

  The next time Serena awoke, her vision cleared immediately. She saw sunlight lancing through the opening in the hides of the lodge where she lay. Hearing the gurgle and laughter of a baby, she moved her aching head to the left. Her eyes widened immediately. There he was, the same Indian man. This time, he was dressed in buckskin leggings; his powerful chest was bare except for a claw necklace that hung from his thickly corded neck.

  It hurt to breathe as Serena forced herself to watch him. He was playing with the baby once again, his face not harsh but gentle this ti
me. She recalled the anger and hardness in his features after she’d slashed at him. As he turned his face, she saw four deep scratches on his cheek. They were welted, and the side of his face was swollen. And yet he hadn’t beat her as Blackjack had done for the same thing. Why?

  How could a man who played so lovingly with a baby hurt her? Serena’s heart asked. But her head was screaming another message. She lay very still, barely breathing because she didn’t want to be discovered awake by him. What of the woman she had seen? Little Swallow? Was that her name? Or was it all a dream fabricated by her fear of him?

  Wolf sensed Cante Tinza was awake. He was careful not to let her know that. Instead, he played with Dawn Sky, nuzzling the baby affectionately, listening to her delighted laughter. Taking one of the baby’s tiny hands, he marveled at the beauty of how a woman could create such perfect life within her body. Surely, there was nothing more sacred than a woman.

  Wolf feared Cante Tinza’s revulsion from him once again, which caused his heart to beat harder inside his chest. Trying to remember Little Swallow’s observations, he searched for ways to get her to relax with him present in the tepee. He gathered up Dawn Sky, who fit easily within his large hands. Softly, he began to sing her a lullaby. Perhaps his singing, which all in the tribe had said was wonderful to hear, would help Cante Tinza relax.

  The deep, slow chant moved through Serena. She closed her eyes, remembering that voice from some lost part of her memory. It was his voice that had given her refuge in the turbulent state of her violent emotions. But he was a man. And capable of hurting her any time he chose. She was now a prisoner of the Sioux. Yet each time a new fear arose, it was neutralized by his chanting.

  Unable to fight all her fears, Serena succumbed to the tone of his voice, allowing it to wash across her and cleanse away the tension making her rigid.