Serena nodded. “What a beautiful dream,” she murmured as Wolf took the hair he needed from her head. She watched him lay the long strands beside the robe. Her hair was halfway down her back, and Wolf’s was just as long.
“You will cut strands from mine when you comb and braid my hair,” he directed, tying off her braids. Today, he decorated her braids with eagle fluff, feathers taken from beneath the tail of the mighty bird. The eagle feathers proclaimed her bravery, and Wolf gave a grunt of satisfaction when he had finished.
“You go to hunt bulbs today?“ he asked.
“Yes. This morning I’m going to help Little Swallow and several other wives tan those new buffalo hides. Later today I will hunt wild onion with them.”
“I will care for our children this afternoon, then,” Wolf told her. He didn’t want their children away with Cante Tinza. If Kingston tried to attack or capture her again, Wolf was afraid that the wasicun would kill them out of hatred. Instead, he cared for the children in camp when she had to forage the hills and meadows with the women for wood or food.
Serena turned around between his thighs and faced him with a smile. She saw Dawn Sky stir and sit up, rubbing her puffy eyes with small fists. “Our daughter awakens,” she warned as she took the comb and began to run the teeth through his silky black hair.
With a grunt, Wolf saw Dawn Sky rise, toddle over to the entrance and go outside. She would relieve herself, and come right back in to snuggle in his arms as Cante Tinza brushed his hair. A few minutes later, Dawn Sky returned. She turned to make sure the flap was secure, and then with a laugh, launched herself into Wolf’s open and waiting arms.
Serena moved aside as Dawn Sky fell into Wolf’s arms with a giggle. He made snuffling bear sounds against his daughter’s chest and in her mussed hair. The laughter and giggles heightened in the tepee when Serena laughed with them. Those joyous sounds always woke Wakinyela, so Serena hurried to finish braiding Wolf’s hair before the baby began to fuss, wanting her first meal of the day.
“Here,” Serena told Wolf, “you comb and braid our daughter’s hair. Wakinyela is already awake.”
Wolf took Dawn Sky into his arms and settled her in his lap. The little girl sat primly, her hands folded expectantly in her lap as she awaited his combing of her hair. He watched with pleasure as Cante Tinza went over to their other daughter, picked her up out of the cradleboard and changed her fawnskin diaper. As he brushed Dawn Sky’s thin, shining black hair into place, Wolf had never felt happier or more fulfilled.
He watched as Cante Tinza loosened the fastener on her dress, revealing her smooth, white breast heavy with milk. Wakinyela’s small hands moved rapidly, eager as she was to suckle the dusky nipple. His smile deepened as he watched his daughter’s mouth move noisily, tiny rivulets of milk spilling from the corners of her mouth as Cante Tinza held her against her breast.
“Wakinyela always reminds me of a starving wolf pup,” he said, chuckling as he gently braided Dawn Sky’s hair.
“You’d think,” Serena said, gazing down at her daughter with a tender look, “that she was starving to death!”
“Perhaps, someday when she is older, she may earn a wolf name,” he said smugly.
With a laugh, Serena looked up. “I wouldn’t doubt that at all.“ As children grew older, their names changed, depending upon their personalities, or their experiences. Serena had found out that Tall Crane had been called Eagle Boy as a youth, but one day, when he was washing down at the river after taking part in a sweat lodge, a great blue heron came and landed no more than six feet away from him. A number of men, including Wolf, had seen the surprising event occur. And then the heron had remained there, preening herself in the ankle-deep water. She pulled out three huge wing feathers, which fell into the water and flowed downstream to where Tall Crane knelt on the bank. Everyone agreed that the heron had come to announce to him that she was now his spirit guide. To this day, Tall Crane wore those three gray-blue feathers in his hair.
The suckling sounds of Wakinyela mingled with the outside activity of the awakening camp around them. Serena watched as Wolf dressed their daughter. Her hair was in neat little braids, and he had fastened red trade beads to the end of each of them because red was Dawn Sky’s favorite color. He then pulled a clean pair of beaded moccasins from another parfleche. Dawn Sky lay on her back, waving her legs back and forth in the air. This was a game Wolf played with his daughter every morning. He would take the moccasin and pretend that it was an eagle swooping down to capture her little foot. Dawn Sky would frantically move her legs around, giggling and shaking with laughter as Wolf dived again and again with the moccasin until he captured each wayward foot.
“Who do you go to pick wild onion with?“ Wolf wanted to know, capturing one of Dawn Sky’s feet. The little girl shrieked with delight as he pretended his fingers were iktomi, the spider, walking up her leg to tickle her ribs.
“Little Swallow, Dreaming Bear and, I believe, Deer Woman. Why?”
Frowning, Wolf kissed his daughter’s foot and then tied the moccasin snugly into place. “Deer Woman?”
“Yes.”
“She is jealous of you. I sometimes see the looks she gives you, and it makes me uncomfortable when you must be around her.”
With a shrug, Serena said, “I keep praying that over time she will understand that we love each other, Wolf, and stop wishing that you were her husband.”
When Wolf finished dressing his daughter, he lifted her into a standing position and smoothed down the deerskin dress that barely grazed her thin little ankles. Dawn Sky moved over to her mother to watch Wakinyela feed. Wolf stood and rearranged his breechclout and placed moccasins on his feet. The day would be warm, and he wasn’t going to put the leggings on unless he had to ride a horse.
Placing several sticks of wood over the coals of the fire, Wolf reached over and picked up Dawn Sky’s doll, which had been made by Dreaming Bear, her hunka grandmother. He gave it to his daughter. The girl imitated her mother by placing the doll to her own chest, rocking and holding it, just as Cante Tinza fed Wakinyela at her breast. With a smile, Wolf returned his attention to the fire. Dawn Sky had her own parfleche, which contained a woman’s work bag, a small tent, tent poles and several wooden horses. All these things were made so that Dawn Sky could begin to imitate her mother’s duties, so that she grew up understanding her responsibilities not only as a woman but as a member of the tribe. Tall Crane, who had asked to become their daughters’ hunka uncle, had carved the three wooden horses out of sacred cottonwood. Often, he would take Dawn Sky on a horseback ride, and she would sit proudly, grip the mane and smile.
The serenity of the tepee filled Wolf with such a sense of utter tranquility and joy that he found it hard to speak. The giggles of Dawn Sky mingled with the noisy suckling sounds of Wakinyela. Kagi, who always slept with the children as their guard, came over and placed her cold nose against his shoulder. He petted the wolf absently, and returned to preparing their morning meal. Normally, Cante Tinza would prepare their food, but he wanted her to enjoy feeding their daughter and not be pressed by such obligations. Later on, when Wakinyela was able to take her first steps, he would relinquish this task to his wife.
“The place you go to find the wild onion is near the swamp?“ he asked over his shoulder.
“Yes. This is a new place to me.”
“Be careful,” he warned. “There is a bulb known as psin hubloka, that resembles the wild onion but is very poisonous. I have seen families die because young wives without proper instructions had picked the psin hubloka thinking it was wild onion. The wives would cut it up and serve it in stew and all who ate of it would die. And their deaths were tortured and long. Let Dreaming Bear show you these bulbs so you may know the difference.”
* * *
The sun was warm without being hot on Serena as she dug with a pointed stick into the soft, rich red earth of the Paha Sapa. Not far away was Dreaming Bear, whose silver hair vividly contrasted with the green meadow that
flowed into a swamp at one end. Little Swallow had gathered pondweed, the thickened rootstock that could be eaten either raw or cooked, while they dug the wild onion bulbs. Absently, Serena touched the braided necklace of hair around her throat. Earlier, Wolf had surprised her with the present. He’d placed it around her throat and braided the hair closed. She had then braided closed his hair necklace around his much larger, thicker neck.
Deer Woman worked off by herself, refusing to remain near the three of them. She hadn’t spoken a word since riding out with them hours earlier. Serena sighed unhappily. Every time the young woman looked up, she glared at Serena, as if it were Serena’s fault she was alive and breathing.
The meadow was oval and rolling, and as Serena straightened, her hand pressed against her lower back, which ached from remaining in that posture far too long, she gazed upon the unending beauty before her eyes. The dark blue sky was cobbled with puffy white clouds, and the spearlike spires of thousands of pine trees surrounded the meadow and scented the air with their fragrance. The grass was a rich, vibrant green, waving beneath the inconstant breeze. The horses hobbled at the other end of the meadow eagerly ate the succulent food. Meadow flowers bloomed in many bright shades of yellow, blue, pink and red, reminding Serena of a scattered rainbow.
“Listen!” Little Swallow called out as she straightened, her brows drawn into a frown. “Do you hear that?“ She turned to the other women.
“What?“ Serena asked, her heart picking up in beat, fear snaking through her.
Little Swallow raised her hand, listening intently. “Horses! Many horses are coming our way.”
Deer Woman was the first to run toward their own horses at the far end of the meadow. Serena hurried over to Dreaming Bear, who had a bad limp and could not move hastily. As she gripped her by one arm Little Swallow came running over to assist in getting the old woman to her horse as quickly as possible.
Now, Serena heard the sound—a rumbling reverberation through the air. It reminded her of the great buffalo hunts that had taken place late last year, in which the beasts created a thunderous vibration that shook the ground and the air. As they hurried at a fast walk, Dreaming Bear puffing between them, she asked, “What is it? Buffalo?”
“Horses. Many horses,” Little Swallow gasped. “Maybe Crow.”
Fear struck Serena. They were near their summer encampment of Gray Buffalo Horn, and there was always the risk of Crow warriors suddenly attacking them. Serena gripped Dreaming Bear’s arm more firmly. The old woman was short and fat, and was easily tired by any sudden activity. Ahead, Serena saw that Deer Woman had already unhobbled and mounted her horse.
“Why doesn’t she release our horses?“ Serena cried.
Little Swallow shook her head in anger “That girl is selfish! She thinks of no one but herself. Look! She rides off! Wait until we get back to camp. I will tell Chief Badger Mouth of her cowardice. She should have stayed and helped us!”
The air trembled now. Serena gasped as she saw the horsemen appear out of the pine forest near the swamp. “Oh, no!”
Little Swallow jerked a look over her shoulder. “Horse soldiers!”
“Aiyeee!” Dreaming Bear shrilled. “Let me go! Save yourselves!”
“No,” Serena said with a gulp. They broke into a run, nearly dragging the old woman between them. Gasping for air, nearly to the horses, Serena rasped, “What will they do? Will they kill us?”
Little Swallow released Dreaming Bear and fell to her knees to release the first horse. “I do not know! We are at peace with them. But look how they ride!”
Rifle shots filled the air. Serena gave a cry and boosted Dreaming Bear up on her bay more. The horse soldiers were bearing down on them—the sound of a bugle echoing throughout the meadow as they drew closer and closer.
“Hurry! Hurry!” Serena cried. She quickly unhobbled Little Swallow’s gray gelding.
“Get to Wiyaka!” Little Swallow ordered, holding back as Dreaming Bear set her horse to a swift gallop into the pines.
The hobbles were new and stiff. Frantically, Serena tore at the leather, trying to release Wiyaka’s front legs. She saw the horse soldiers coming over the rise, no more than a quarter mile away.
“Go!” she cried to Little Swallow. “Save yourself! Save yourself!”
Bullets began to zing around them, lifting geysers of dirt into the air. Wiyaka whinnied plaintively and moved jerkily; the sound of rifles caused the horse to panic.
“No!” Little Swallow rode around the horse, her hand outstretched. “Take my hand, Cante Tinza! Take it! Ride with me!”
Serena realized that if they both rode the same horse, they could never outrun the horse soldiers. “No! Go! Go!” Serena yelled, and she stood up and slapped the rump of the horse. The animal leaped forward, startled and terrorized by the rifles. Little Swallow nearly fell off as the horse bolted at a dead run toward the safety of the pines. She lurched forward, hands flying to the mane and clinging to it as the animal disappeared among the timber.
With a shattering feeling, Serena knew she could not escape. She stood here holding Wiyaka’s jaw cord, waiting for bullets to tear into her body, waiting for her death. Tears came to her eyes. How she loved Wolf and her children. Oh, Great Spirit, keep them safe. Keep them safe….
A horse soldier bore down upon her. She could see the leader clearly, a young man with blond hair and a drooping blond mustache. Only once before had she seen Army soldiers, and that was on her journey to the Dakota Territory. They had shadowed the wagon trains to try to prevent Indians from attacking them. This soldier rode a bay horse with foam streaming from its open mouth, and its hide glistened with sweat. Directly behind him was another horse soldier in a dark blue wool uniform decorated with yellow piping, who carried a red and white flag. Behind him were at least thirty men, riding in columns of two.
Shutting her eyes, Serena awaited her fate. At least the other three women had got away. Little Swallow would tell Wolf what had happened. They would find her body lying in the meadow, she was sure, because she had heard stories of horse soldiers killing, scalping and leaving the body to be eaten by buzzards.
“Company, halt!”
Serena jerked open her eyes. The soldier with blond hair had raised his gloved hand. His face was round and his cheeks were bright red. Although he was only in his middle twenties, his blue eyes looked old. Serena held his gaze defiantly when she realized they weren’t going to kill her. They were going to take her prisoner. The entire company surrounded her atop dancing and snorting horses. She stood there stiffly as the man who was in charge rode slowly up to her.
“Are you Miss Serena Rogan?“ he demanded.
How long it was since she’d heard that name. “Yes.”
The officer smiled a little and saluted her. “Ma’am, I’m Captain Jason Anderson. We were told a white woman had been captured by the Injuns, a woman with red hair. That’s you.“ His smile increased and he tipped his hat to her. “Ma’am, we’re here to rescue you. We’ll take you back to the fort and you can leave the hellish prison you must have endured at the hands of these redskins.“ He spurred his horse forward, holding out his hand to her. “Welcome home, Miss Rogan. You’re among your own kind now. We’ll take you back to the fort, get you out of those filthy Injun clothes and see to it that you’re cared for properly.“
Chapter Thirteen
“I don’t want to go to the fort!” Serena cried out angrily as she stood tensely in front of the captain. “I want to go home. Home to my husband and baby.”
Captain Anderson held on to his patience. “Ma’am, I’ve seen women captured by the redskins before. They all say that. You have got to understand something: you have to go home to your own kind. You’re a white woman, and you should be living in white society.”
Serena whirled around and jabbed her finger in the direction of the village that lay an hour east of the meadow. “I am married, Captain! I have a baby daughter. I refuse to go with you. My people are the Lakota, not you!”
Anderson tightened his mouth and looked around the meadow. “Miss Rogan, I don’t have time to sit here and argue with you. Please get on your horse and come with us. You’ve been a prisoner of the Sioux far too long. You just don’t know it.”
Her mouth fell open, and she took a step back. “I don’t want to go with you!” she screamed.
“Sergeant Blake,” Anderson snapped, “get Miss Rogan on her horse. Right now!”
With a cry, Serena tried to dodge the tall, skinny sergeant. He grabbed her by the arm.
“Be gentle with her,” Anderson boomed.
“Yes, sir.”
Serena felt the sergeant’s hand instantly ease its talonlike grip on her arm. He guided her toward Wiyaka.
“Mount up,” the sergeant growled.
Wildly, Serena looked around as she mounted the black mare. The jaw cord was ripped from her hands by the sergeant. He glared up at her.
“You’re gonna follow behind my horse.”
Escape, her heart cried. But Serena was surrounded by the troop of cavalry. There was no escape. Frantically, she tried to think. Captain Anderson gave the signal with his hand, the bugler sounded the notes, and the whole troop turned around. Sergeant Blake rode beside the captain, and Serena trailed them, unable to guide her horse. Even if she wanted to escape, Serena thought, it couldn’t be now. No, if she did get away, they would only follow her back to the camp. She feared they would shoot and kill her people—perhaps her children. No, she couldn’t try escape right now.
Trembling, with tears in her eyes, Serena tried to think clearly. Wolf had decided to go deep into the Paha Sapa with the children this afternoon, to hunt certain herbs. Did anyone know that? Would Wolf, once he found out, come after her?
Brave Heart Page 20