Gray Fox watched the lovely face of his princess. Deep in his heart he couldn’t help but be grateful that Sky Dancer was not the one who had disappeared. Joanna was grieving now, but if she had lost Sky Dancer, her heart would break. In Gray Fox’s heart, anything that hurt Joanna also ripped him apart on the inside. He had loved her in silence for many summers. No one knew that he felt great love for the wife of his best friend, his chief. Gray Fox would carry that secret with him until he died.
He reached out and took Sky Dancer’s arm. “Come, you must get some sleep. The hour grows late, and tomorrow we shall ride hard all day. I made a promise to your mother that I would look after you.”
Sky Dancer nodded. Tomorrow she would be home but everything was different now—she was different. She could hardly wait to be with her mother and father. They didn’t have to know she would never come all the way home. Sky Dancer would never tell them that she’d left a part of herself behind with Morgan Prescott.
The next afternoon it was a grim party that crossed the Milk River and rode into the Blackfoot village.
When the people saw Sky Dancer and Tag, they rushed forward to greet them. Happy faces smiled at their returning princess. Many hands reached out to touch her with affection. There were many who sadly welcomed Tag home, knowing his mission was not a happy one. He had once been a part of this tribe and was still held in high regard.
Sky Dancer’s eyes were fixed on the big lodge in the center of the village where her mother and father waited. This was not to be the happy homecoming Sky Dancer had hoped for. There was too much sadness that hung heavily in the air.
As Sky Dancer drew even with her parents, her father reached up and pulled her into his arms. He said nothing as he held her tightly to him, but Sky Dancer knew that he was happy she was home. Joanna rushed to her brother and was enfolded in his embrace. The tribe members, knowing of the sadness that would be in the chief’s lodge this day, went to their own tipis, not wanting to intrude on their sorrow.
As Joanna drew her daughter into her arms, her eyes were wet with tears. “I have missed you sorely, my daughter. It is good that you are home.”
Sky Dancer gazed at her beautiful mother with an aching heart. There were so many things that she needed to share with her mother, but now was not the time. “I never want to leave again, my mother,” she said, feeling that she had come home at last.
As the four of them entered the lodge, a silence settled over the village. There would be no ceremonies of welcome for the returning princess tonight. There would be only sadness in the chief’s lodge.
Windhawk and Tag had ridden out with several warriors. They had decided to go to the Piegan Blackfoot village, which was three days away. Windhawk would now enlist the brother tribe in the search for Danielle.
Night had fallen—Sky Dancer and her mother were talking quietly while Joanna told her daughter about the death of Sun Woman. They both cried softly for the loss of the woman they had loved so dearly.
As they drank the tea Alexandria had sent to Joanna, Sky Dancer talked of her life in Philadelphia. “There is happy news in all this sorrow, my mother. My uncle and aunt are expecting a baby.”
Joanna smiled. “I know. Tag told me.” Joanna searched the face of her daughter. There was something different about her, a deep kind of sadness, and she knew it had nothing to do with Sun Woman’s death or Danielle’s disappearance.
“You are troubled, my daughter. Would you like to talk about what is bothering you?”
Violet-colored eyes met violet-colored eyes. “I wasn’t going to tell you about what happened to me in Philadelphia, Mother. I thought it would not be right to talk of my troubles when there is so much sadness here.”
Joanna pulled her daughter to her. “I will always want to hear what is bothering you, no matter what. Can you talk about it now?”
Sky Dancer again met her mother’s gaze. “I have met a man called Morgan Prescott. He is a doctor and an officer in the United States Cavalry.”
Joanna pushed a tumbled tress of ebony hair out of her daughter’s face. “Are you telling me that you have some deep feelings for this man?”
Sky Dancer’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, I love him. I never thought it was possible to love anyone the way I do Morgan. You never told me that love could hurt so much, my mother.” Sky Dancer had kept her feelings bottled up for so long that they now came out in a rush.
Joanna held her daughter while Sky Dancer told her about herself and Morgan Prescott. Her heart felt heavy that her lovely sweet Sky Dancer should have met with ugliness and prejudice. “Cry all you want to,” she said soothingly, rocking her daughter back and forth as if she were a baby.
Joanna had come to the same conclusion that her brother had earlier. It had been a mistake to separate the two girls from their worlds. She had no words of comfort to give Sky Dancer. All she could do was hold her and feel her pain in the depths of her own heart.
When they reached St. Louis, Morgan followed Farley’s direction and exchanged his blue uniform for a buckskin shirt and trousers. The old trapper had wisely pointed out that in his uniform he would be a sitting target for every Indian in the territory.
As they made their way across the seemingly neverending prairies toward the great wilderness area, Morgan began to experience a way of life that he never dreamed existed. He began to enjoy Farley’s wit and humor and to realize that there was a highly intelligent man behind the bushy hair and colorful manner of speech.
They rode hard and made good time. Often they would be in the saddle before sunup and ride until long after dark. Farley knew the country so well they would sometimes ride on with only the moonlight to guide them.
A few days after they left Fort Leavenworth, Morgan set his sights on the tall mountains in the distance. His heart grew lighter each day, knowing he was getting closer to the woman he loved. He didn’t know what he would say to Sky Dancer when he saw her, but he hoped he could convince her to be his wife. First, he would have to prove to her that he was sorry for his rash statements about the Indians—that would be the hard part. She might never forgive him.
They were camped by a small stream and Farley handed Morgan a cup of his thick coffee. Over the weeks Morgan had become accustomed to the strong brew with the coffee grounds floating in it, and even welcomed it now.
“How many more days until we get to Blackfoot Country, Farley?”
The old man leaned back against his saddle and smiled. “You ask me that near every day.”
“Do I? I wasn’t aware of it.”
“We’ll sleep in Blackfoot Country tomorrow night,” the old man said, pulling his wide-brimmed hat down over his eyes. “I’m gonna get some shut-eye. You might want to douse that fire and keep your eyes peeled. This here’s Arapaho land, and they ain’t none too friendly to white folk.”
“Farley, I have been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I am puzzled by something. How can it be that Danielle and Skyler look so much alike.”
The old man sat up and eyed the young man. “ ’Cause Tag was married to a Blackfoot princess, Morning Song, when he was younger, and Danielle was their daughter.”
“I didn’t know. What happened to Danielle’s mother?”
“She were killed by white men. She were also Windhawk’s only sister.”
“What is Skyler’s mother like? I have seen her portrait hanging in the Jameses’ house. She was very lovely.”
The old man sighed wearily, knowing he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, since Morgan was in a talking mood. “In the first place Sky Dancer don’t want to be called Skyler no more. And I don’t know how to tell you ’bout Joanna. She ain’t like no one you’ve ever seed afore. I think I’ll just wait and let you judge her fer yourself.”
“I am trying to figure out why a well-brought-up young lady like Tag’s sister would turn her back on her way of life and live as an Indian.”
“You are making the mistake so many folk make. You think the way you live is the
only, and best, way. That just ain’t so. There is a strong peacefulness and brotherhood among the Blackfoot. They take care of one another. When you meet Windhawk, you’ll be meeting more than a man. You’ll be meeting up with a legend. He is…Windhawk!”
“I keep trying to envision the kind of life Sky Dancer has led. It was apparent to me that she was very well educated. Her manners are above reproach, her speech impeccable. I realized when I first saw her that she was different from all other young ladies I had ever met.”
“Sky Dancer owes her manners and her education to her ma. Joanna always insisted that she know about both the Indian and the white world. I knowed she wasn’t too happy in the white world. You may just have to face the fact that she won’t go with you. I think I should warn you that there is unhappiness in the Blackfoot village. Danielle has disappeared.”
“Danielle is staying with the Blackfoot?” Morgan said in amazement. It was hard for him to visualize the spoiled girl he’d always known living among the Indians.
“We don’t knowed where she is. That’s why her pa and Sky Dancer had to return to the village. Now douse that fire and let me get some sleep,” Farley said, rolling over to his back to indicate their conversation was at an end.
Morgan threw dirt on the campfire, and then settled down to ponder the old man’s words. Somehow, someway, he had to convince Skyler of his love for her.
As he listened to the stream washing over the rocks, he felt an urgency within himself. All he wanted to do was take Skyler in his arms and tell her how sorry he was for hurting her. Would she ever be happy living in his world? he wondered. Could he convince her that they would overcome any obstacle that stood in their path?
He picked up his rifle to make sure it was loaded, then leaned his back against a tree. What a strange twist his life had taken. He had been forced to rethink much of what he had been taught. He was ashamed that he had condemned a whole race of people just because they were different from himself.
Glancing up at the moon, he watched a cloud move over it, shutting out the light and casting the countryside in shadows. Each day brought him closer to the woman he loved—each night he felt the differences that separated them.
He tried to visualize Skyler as an Indian, but he couldn’t. She had fit so well into the life in Philadelphia. She had been so convincing in her role that he had never suspected she was any part Indian. It was even hard for him to think of her as Sky Dancer, since Skyler Dancing was the woman he’d fallen in love with.
His heart ached at the unhappinesse he had caused her. He would make it up to her somehow. Please, God, he prayed, let me convince her that she belongs with me.
Sky Dancer walked down by the Milk River feeling lost and misplaced. She didn’t feel at home here anymore, and she hadn’t belonged in Philadelphia. Where did she belong? The river was cast in silvery light and she turned her face up to the moon. The same moon shone down on the Indian world and the white man’s land. Sky Dancer had now walked in both worlds and felt like she belonged to neither.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Danielle had spent a miserable night and as she awoke, she looked about her in a sleep-drugged state. The first thing her eyes fell on, when she could focus them properly, was Scar Face’s dead body. She shivered when she saw the spear sticking out of his back.
Turning her head, she met Wolfrunner’s dark gaze. “You saved my life, Danielle,” he said softly.
“It was nothing. I merely paid a debt,” she told him, feeling as if she were going to be sick. She wished the grim reminder of her daring deed wasn’t lying so near with his eyes open in death.
Sitting up, she tucked a strand of ebony hair behind her ear. “Are you well enough to move on, Wolfrunner? I don’t want to stay here.” She couldn’t resist another glance at Scar Face’s body, or the shiver that followed.
“I have tried to get up, but find I am too weak. If you will allow me to lean on you, we will move away from this place,” Wolfrunner said weakly, feeling shame because he had allowed Scar Face to get the better of him.
Danielle helped him to stand. With him leaning heavily on her, they made it around the side of the mountains. Danielle watched Wolfrunner’s face, knowing he was pushing himself beyond endurance. Beads of perspiration popped out on his forehead, and he staggered backward.
When Danielle felt they were a far enough distance away from the dead Scar Face, she helped Wolfrunner lean up against the rocky face of the mountain. With his face a mask of pain, Wolfrunner slowly sank down to a sitting position. Leaning back, he closed his eyes.
Danielle knew he was too weak to go on. She retraced her steps to the stream. Ignoring Scar Face’s body, she ripped another strip from her skirt and wet it in the icy water. By now, her skirt was midway up her thigh She tried not to think about her half-clad condition—there were more important things to worry about.
Returning to Wolfrunner, she washed his face and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. She would tend his wounds, as best she could, but beyond that there was very little she could do for him. They didn’t have anything to say to each other. Too much had happened between them—their feelings were still too raw.
Danielle had to make several trips to the mountain stream. On one occasion she realized she would have to retrieve the spear from Scar Face’s back. Approaching the body slowly, she tried not to look at him. Grasping the spear in both hands, she gave a tug, but it wouldn’t budge. Drawing a deep breath, she tightened her grip and braced her foot against Scar Face’s back. With a strong yank the spear finally came loose. Danielle felt herself getting sick and clasped her hand over her mouth. She would never, as long as she lived, forget how it had felt when the spear had entered Scar Face’s body. Nor the sound of its sharp point grinding against bone when she pulled it out.
In two days’ time, Wolfrunner had recovered sufficiently from his wounds so they could continue their journey. They traveled slowly for the first day, allowing him to regain his strength.
It was a week after Danielle had killed Scar Face. Although there was no longer any need to fear pursuit, Wolfrunner pushed them harder than ever. It was almost as if he was obsessed with the need to get her back to the Blackfoot village as quickly as possible.
Wolfrunner looked behind him and saw that Danielle had dropped to her knees. Leaning his spear against a tree, he walked back to her and helped her to her feet. Her hair was matted and tangled and her face was streaked with dirt, but he could see the pride that shone in her sky-blue eyes. Seeing she was in a near state of exhaustion, he picked her up in his arms. When she weakly tried to struggle out of his grasp, he silenced her with a dark glance.
“I will carry you now,” he said in a commanding voice. “You have been brave long enough.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and she managed to open them with great effort. “So tired,” she whispered. “I cannot…go on.”
Wolfrunner held her close to his heart, knowing he had pushed her past human endurance. She had not complained, and he now knew her well enough to realize her proud spirit wouldn’t allow her to ask for help.
Setting his eyes on the mountains ahead of him, he walked in that direction. His burden was light, but his heart was heavy. Soon they would reach his village, and then he would have to turn his precious burden over to Windhawk. She would no longer have to depend on him for her survival. Soon she would be going back to her people, and he would never see her again.
Danielle had fallen asleep. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and he laid his face against hers. He loved her with every breath he took. His whole being was filled with her. He was considered a great warrior, and yet he had found a weakness within himself—Danielle was that weakness. He knew he could no more chase her from his heart than he could will the sun not to shine.
He carried her until the sun began to set, hardly noticing her weight. When he stood on the banks of the Milk River, at the foot of the last mountain that formed a barrier between them and the village, he
decided to stop and make camp.
Wolfrunner was hot and weary, and he knew that Danielle must feel the same. Gathering her close to him, he waded into the river and allowed the cool water to wash over them.
Danielle’s eyes fluttered open as he set her on her feet then proceeded to wash her all over. No words were spoken as he lifted her up and carried her up the bank.
Setting her on the soft grass, he knelt and ran his fingers through her mass of black hair, trying to remove the worst of the tangles.
All this Danielle suffered in silence. She was so exhausted, it was all a filmy haze to her. She wished Wolfrunner would just leave her alone and let her sleep.
Laying Danielle back on the grass, he moved away from her and began gathering wood to build a fire. She hadn’t stirred, so he lay down beside her and pulled her to rest in his arms. He would hold her tonight, for all too soon she would be taken from him.
Danielle awoke during the night, feeling something warm on her cheek. Opening her eyes, she found she was lying against Wolfrunner’s shoulder and his head was resting against her face.
In that moment his eyes opened, and she was staring into deep, soft ebony pools. His hand moved up to touch her cheek, and she felt warm all over from the gentle gesture. His mouth was so near hers, she had but to move the slightest bit and they would touch. Suddenly his lips brushed against hers and she shivered with delight.
Against his will, Wolfrunner reached up and pushed Danielle’s gown off the shoulders, baring her breasts. Dipping his head down, his mouth settled on one of the ripe mounds and he felt it swell as his tongue circled the tip.
Danielle threw back her head and allowed him the freedom to explore her body. She was a trembling mass as his hands pushed her tattered gown down her hips.
Savage Summer Page 27