Her Cheyenne Warrior (Harlequin Historical)

by Lauri Robinson

  It was not their way to scorn someone for learning, and upon reminding One Who Heals of that, he said it was good that Poeso learned how to cook. One Who Heals hissed and said a woman who couldn’t cook was no good.

  “Nehetaa’e!” He would not listen to any more. “Meseestse. Nahaeana.” He was hungry and wanted to eat.

  One Who Heals pinched her lips, and then hissed, “Don’t eat the fish. It will make you sick.”

  Usually he headed her warnings, for it was her job to foresee things, but on this day, he did not believe her. Nor would he argue with her. Others, though, stared his way, having caught the other woman’s words. No one would disobey the medicine woman, not without his permission. He had never defied One Who Heals in front of others, but he must, for Poeso’s sake.

  “Meseestse.” Eat, he told the others. As they appeared hesitant to obey, he added that they could eat the fish. No one would become ill. To prove it, he ate all the fish in his bowl first, and then asked for more.

  * * *

  The tension between the old crone and Black Horse was so thick, Lorna swore it filled the entire teepee, and her pride at having cooked at least one fish without burning it faded with her suspicion that she was the cause of the strain filling the teepee. It shouldn’t matter—the old woman made no attempt to hide her dislike, and she hadn’t, either. Yet it soured her stomach. For no reason. She’d never gone out of her way to please people, and wasn’t about to start now. No one had ever gone out of their way to please her. No one had ever cared one way or the other what she wanted or didn’t want. It had been that way her entire life. At least since her father died. He’d cared about her, and she about him, but that had all died along with him.

  “Meseestse, Poeso,” Black Horse said under his breath.

  She understood meseestse meant eat, and picked up a piece of the fish she’d been so excited about earlier. Why? There was no need for her to learn to cook. She could hire all the servants she’d need upon arriving in California and acquiring her inheritance. Except she was not like her mother. Never would be. So self-centered and cold she didn’t even care what happened to her own daughter. Her very own flesh and blood. She’d told herself that her mother had started hating her upon marrying Douglas, but in truth, there had not been any love between her and her mother long before Douglas arrived.

  An eerie sensation had Lorna looking up, across the circle to where Meg and Little One sat side by side, their heads tilted toward one another as they spoke between themselves. Her stomach hiccupped. The truth was, she already was like her mother, wasn’t she? Never caring about anyone other than herself.

  The food in her mouth would have choked her if she’d have let it. She didn’t. With great effort, she forced it down, and then another piece, and another one after that. Her gaze roamed the circle as she ate. She’d never really sympathized with Tillie and Betty. It had been because of her own goals, her own reasons, that she’d allowed them to join her and Meg. Even when it came to Jacob Lerber following Betty, it hadn’t been Betty she’d been thinking about. It had been because she’d never let a man violate another woman the way Douglas had her.

  A round of chatter, or little cheers of delight, had her lifting her gaze from her plate. Once again, Betty had pulled out her Dutch oven, and the people around the circle, even One Who Heals, were looking her way with anticipation sparkling in their eyes.

  “It’s just fried bread,” Betty said, “topped with my strawberry jam.”

  Although most of them hadn’t understood what Betty had said, they nodded eagerly.

  Passing out the bread, Betty said to her, “I feel we need to contribute to the meals, even if it’s just in a small way.”

  Lorna nodded, and then said, “Thank you, we do need to. And thank you for the dessert you made last night.”

  Betty’s hand stalled and her eyes glistened. “Oh, Lorna,” she whispered. “Thank you, and you’re welcome.”

  That evening, when the meal ended, after Betty received much praise for her contribution, the men left the lodge. Meg explained they went to the sweat lodge to further prepare for the hunt they’d soon commence.

  “For the whole night?” Lorna asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Meg replied. “I’ve never heard of that.”

  As the other women started gathering up and carrying away the dishes, Meg held up a hand when Lorna attempted to follow. “Little One says you are to stay here.”

  “Why?”

  “Black Horse said so.”

  Lorna sat back down. Some time to think would serve her well. When Meg sat back down, she was surprised. “He told you to stay, too?”

  “No, I just thought I would, at least for a few minutes. Do you mind?”

  “No,” Lorna answered, yet was unsure of what else to say. Her thoughts had made a full circle, and landed back on Black Horse. Wondering how long he would be gone. Eventually, the silence became uncomfortable when she began to fear Meg might know what she was thinking about. “Do you think your sister will miss these people when we leave?” she asked.

  “Of course she will,” Meg answered. “They are her family, more than I am even. She’s lived with them longer than she lived with our family. She doesn’t remember much about our parents, or me.”

  “But you remember her,” Lorna said.

  “Yes, and I promised my father I’d find her.” Meg huffed out a long breath of air. “I don’t know what to think now, though.”

  “What do you mean? Think about what?”

  “About making her leave. Or asking her to leave. She will be as confused by our ways as we are by hers.” Meg waved a hand. “By all this. I never thought about that. I just thought about finding her. They have treated her very well. They love her.”

  Meg had never let her feelings show, not like she was now. There were tears in her eyes.

  “You love her, too,” Lorna said.

  “But will it be enough?” Meg asked. “I’m only one person. Here she has many. Many people who love her.” Shaking her head, she sniffled before saying, “I don’t know what to do, Lorna. I truly don’t.”

  She’d never had anyone love her, or loved anyone, other than her father long ago, and couldn’t offer any advice. “You will figure it out.”

  “I have to figure it out,” Meg said. “Figure something out. You and Tillie and Betty are counting on me to. Counting on me to get you to California.”

  She’d never comprehended the pressure Meg felt in leading them all west until that moment, and that made her stomach gurgle. It didn’t seem fair. That Meg was responsible for so much. “That’s true,” Lorna said. “We are, but you forget.” She held out a hand. “We are all in this together.” Holding out her other hand, she waited for Meg to set her hand on top of her other one. “One for all and all for one.”

  Meg grinned and slapped one hand and then the other atop Lorna’s.

  They both laughed for a brief moment.

  “Who came up with that anyway? I don’t remember.” Meg asked as they pulled their hands apart.

  “I think it was Betty.”

  Meg nodded. “When we left the train to take Tillie to the doctor.”

  “This trip sure has been different than what we planned, back in Missouri,” Lorna said.

  “Yes, it has,” Meg answered. “I’d hoped, but truly never really expected to find Carolyn.” She sighed again. “It could be worse, though. Would have been if the Southern Cheyenne hadn’t left her with Black Horse. I don’t know what I would have done then.”

  Lorna didn’t, either, and couldn’t think of a thing to say about that.

  After a short silence, Meg asked, “Will you be all right here alone?”

  “Of course,” Lorna nodded toward the door flap that had been left open. “I have a watchdog.”

  “Stands Tall is very proud to have been chosen to watch over you in Black Horse’s absence. It is an honor.”

  “I’m sure,” Lorna replied drily.

  “It is. The
camp has named you Woman Who Sleeps in Black Horse’s Lodge.”

  A shiver rippled her spine. “Really?”

  Meg nodded. “There are many women here who would like to be called that.”

  “Says who?”

  “Little One. His wife died over two years ago, but he has not shown interest in taking another one.”

  “Why should he?” Lorna asked. “He already takes care of half the band.”

  “That is his job. As their leader, he’s responsible for everyone. But that doesn’t mean he can’t take another wife. Have children.” Meg bit her lips as if she wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if she should. Then, glancing about, she asked, “What did he say to change your mind?”

  “Change my mind?”

  “Yes, after he tied you up, he then untied you. Why? What did he do?”

  “He didn’t say or do anything,” Lorna said. “I decided to...to give you and your sister the time you needed.”

  “Just like that?”

  It did sound unbelievable. “Yes,” Lorna said. “Just like that.”

  “He didn’t—”

  “No,” Lorna interrupted. “He didn’t do anything.”

  “I didn’t think so,” Meg said. “Little One said he would never do anything like that, but more so, I knew you’d never let that happen.”

  Lorna bit the tip of her tongue inside her mouth, half expecting Meg to add the word again. They both knew what Meg was referring to, and that somehow Meg knew what had happened to Lorna in the past. What Douglas had done.

  Unwilling to go down that road with anyone—for there were times a person couldn’t stop things from happening—Lorna changed the subject. “Why do you call her Carolyn sometimes and Little One at other times?”

  Meg shrugged. “I guess because she is two people to me. The little sister I’ve been searching for and the woman I found.”

  Lorna accepted that for what it was. The truth.

  “Have you heard what they’ve named Betty and Tillie?” Meg asked.

  “No.”

  “They call Betty White Woman Cooks Good.”

  “That’s fitting,” Lorna answered.

  “And Tillie is White Woman in Black Dress.”

  Lorna thought that was pretty simple, but Tillie was simple and it fit her. “What about you?” she asked. “What do they call you?”

  “White Sister.”

  “That fits.”

  Meg agreed and left shortly afterward, explaining they would be traveling again the next day, much like they had today. Lorna had questions about that, like why had they reassembled everything just to tear it down again in the morning, but chose to hold such queries for Black Horse. There were several things she wanted to talk to him about. Her Cheyenne name being one of them.

  Many hours passed before he returned to the lodge. If not for the familiar scent, she might have slept through his entrance. Actually, she had slept through his entrance. When the smoky smell of burned sage woke her, he was already stretched out on his bed on the other side of the lodge. The smell wasn’t offensive. She recognized it from when Meg had thrown sage on their fires at night to chase away the hungry mosquitoes.

  Lorna sat up, and listened, trying to make out if he was sleeping or not.

  “It is not time to rise, Poeso.”

  “I know,” she said. “I want to talk to you.”

  The pine boughs beneath his bed rustled as he sat up. “What is it you want to ask?”

  His tone wasn’t angry or impatient, and that made her heart flutter strangely. “Do you know what your people are calling me?”

  “Heehe’e.”

  She heard the smile in his voice.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “I not laugh.”

  “But you are smiling.”

  “Heehe’e.”

  “Why?”

  “It is a good name.”

  Lorna bit her lips for a moment. “Why can’t they call me Poeso, like you do?”

  “Poeso is my name for you. I tell no one.”

  “Why?”

  His long silence made her wonder if he would answer or not.

  “I not want to.”

  Pretty sure she would get no further on that subject, she asked, “Why did we set up all the teepees and unload the packs if we are leaving again in the morning?”

  “We find buffalo.”

  “I know, but why didn’t we just unload what we would need for the night?”

  “Would you like to be feast for many hungry hoema?”

  “For what?”

  He chuckled. “Biting bugs. Without our lodges the hoema would bite us, drink our blood. Without fires we would not eat.”

  While she pondered that, he said, “It is our way, Poeso.”

  The teepees certainly kept more mosquitoes at bay than the wagon and blankets had, and she certainly didn’t miss those annoying creatures or the welts they left behind. And she had been hungry.

  “Why you go to California?”

  She wasn’t done asking questions, but she did remember that she had promised to tell him that. “To find a man named Elliot Chadwick.”

  “Who is this man?”

  “That is a long story,” she said.

  “It is a long night.”

  Lorna grinned. He had a way about him that did that to her. Made her unable to keep from smiling sometimes, and it felt nice. His attitude was gentle, too. Unlike other men she’d known in the past. Most of them had been demanding and self-centered. Like Douglas. It was comforting to know that not all men were like her stepfather. “Elliot has much money, and some of it is mine. I’m going to get it.”

  “Why you need much money?”

  “Everyone needs money,” she answered. “To buy clothes and food, a house.”

  “The Cheyenne have clothes and food and many lodges. We no need money.”

  “That is true,” she said. “But I’m not Cheyenne.”

  He was silent again and she heard his pine boughs rustle before he asked, “Why does this man have your money?”

  “Many years ago my father told me that if I ever needed something and he wasn’t there, that I should go to New York and find Elliot Chadwick.”

  “Where is your father?”

  “He died when I was young, and my mother remarried. Douglas is my stepfather’s name, and he was mean to me. Very mean, and my mother said it was my fault, so I left. My father was born in New York, I was, too, but we moved to England when I was a baby.” The need to tell him more was so instinctual, she didn’t question how fast the words flowed from her mouth. “When my father told me about Elliot, he said I should never tell my mother, and I didn’t. When I arrived in New York, Elliot wasn’t there, but his brother, William, was. He said Elliot was in California, that he’d gone there when the gold rush started years ago. Elliot had started a business hauling gold for the miners, and my father had invested in that business, meaning he gave Elliot money and therefore owned a portion of the business. Over the years, the business was very successful, and Elliot partnered up with another business named Wells Fargo. William said since my father died, his portion of the business now belonged to me. William said he would contact Elliot for me, and that I could stay with him until we heard back from Elliot, but I wasn’t going to stay with a strange man. I had to find Elliot myself. When he gave me money to stay at a hotel, I left instead. Took the first train heading west. It went as far as Missouri, where I met Meg and bought everything we needed for the wagon train.”

  “You leave many times.”

  She frowned before catching his meaning. “I had to leave both England and New York.”

  “Your mother not try to stop you?”

  The Cheyenne were so family centered, his question didn’t surprise her. However, her answer might surprise him. “No, I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. She wouldn’t have stopped me, though. I was never wanted. They—she and my stepfather—were glad I left.”

  “How do you know?”


  “I just do, but they will be sorry. Douglas and my mother like to spend money, and our property was highly mortgaged. That was the reason I was supposed to marry Andrew Wainwright. Douglas had arranged that. Andrew’s father must have learned how broke we were and sent Andrew to Scotland before our engagement could be announced, and Douglas made sure no one else would want to marry me. I think he thought I had told Andrew’s family, because he knew I didn’t want to marry him.”

  Her throat had grown thick and she had to close her eyes to ward off the ugly anger churning inside her.

  “You have been hurt, Poeso, but carrying so much hate is not good for you. The hate will scar your heart.”

  Lorna hadn’t heard him cross the lodge, but opened her eyes to find him crouched in front of her. “It already has,” she whispered.

  “This man you were to marry, why did he not protect you?”

  “Andrew?” She shrugged. “He didn’t want to marry me any more than I wanted to marry him. I agreed only because it would get me out of my mother’s house.” Sighing, she added, “He agreed to marry me because his father told him to.”

  Black Horse’s hands were warm and gentle when they cupped the sides of her face. “You are safe here, Poeso, and have no need for much money.”

  “I do feel safe here,” she said, realizing it was true as she spoke the words. “But I’m not Cheyenne. I’m white, and I need to get to California. I’m going to buy back my father’s property from the bank, and put Douglas and my mother out in the cold. Make them pay for what they did to me.”

  Black Horse didn’t say anything; instead, his hands slid down to her shoulders and he pulled her forward, until she was fully encompassed in his arms. Her entire being trembled before she surrendered to the protectiveness and comfort of his hold.

  Chapter Ten

  Black Horse told himself to lay her down on her bed and go back to his, but he couldn’t. He could feel the pain inside her. She needed to be held, needed to know she was safe, needed to heal. He said nothing, and did not move, just held her while she cried, and wondered what it was about this woman that touched him deep inside. Others were still wary of her, likely because One Who Heals continued to claim Poeso would bring trouble to all.