Her Cheyenne Warrior (Harlequin Historical)

by Lauri Robinson

“It is late,” he said. “Time to sleep.”

  She bowed her head and then nodded. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” he repeated.

  Another unusual sensation filled his stomach. Guilt. Guilt at telling her she talked too much last night. Why had he been sent a woman who changed so many things about him?

  They both went to their beds, across the lodge from one another. Not small compared to many others, his lodge seemed even bigger tonight. The distance between him and Poeso was as great as the land from Father River to the Great Mountain. If she was already in California, his heart could not miss her more.

  Tired from many days of hunting, his body longed for sleep, but his mind would not rest. He closed his eyes, but that did not help. Poeso filled the vision that formed. He was a Cheyenne warrior. A leader of many like him. When he took another wife—something One Who Heals reminded him often he must do soon in order to see his children grow into strong warriors—it was expected that it would be a Cheyenne maiden. Many fathers had brought their daughters to him, but he felt no connection to them. No desire to mate.

  He could not take a white woman as a wife. People would lose their trust in him. The Tribal Council would lose their trust in him. That could not be. His people needed a leader with strong power. Strong mind and body.

  He had killed more buffalo than all the others during the hunt, but that would not happen again if he lost his power. Lost his good medicine. His family would go hungry. Starve.

  The air that left his lungs was as heavy as his heart. If he could not believe in himself, others could not. If he could not trust himself, others would not.

  His own thoughts twisted, telling him Little One was a white woman and a leader could marry her, if she wanted it. Little One was Cheyenne, he argued in silence. She had been raised with Tsitsistas; she had become one. Poeso would not. She had learned much, but was too proud to change completely. Too much in love with the white man’s money. Her money in California.

  She could not be his wife. Could not be his woman.

  He should not think about things that could never be. That worry was no good. Only a foolish man wanted things he could not have.

  Sleep finally took him to dreamland, but the visions there did not make for a peaceful night.

  * * *

  Black Horse left his lodge before Father Sun appeared in the east and bathed by himself. After commanding Rising Sun to watch over the people in his absence, Black Horse mounted Horse and rode up into the hills to find solace and the medicine to end the turmoil inside him. He would not return until Black Horse the leader and Black Horse the man were once again united, as they had been before Poeso arrived. He owed that to his people.

  * * *

  Lorna could not remember being so worried, not ever, and there was plenty of anger rolling around inside her, too. “What do you mean no one knows where he went?” she asked Little One, whose lodge she had just entered. “He is your leader. He can’t just up and disappear.”

  “He didn’t disappear,” Meg said, stepping up beside her sister. “He went on a vision quest.”

  “A what?”

  “A vision quest,” Little One said. “To find answers.” She shook her head. “I have hurt my brother. Not knowing if I should leave or stay has hurt Black Horse.”

  “What?” Lorna asked.

  “Shh,” Meg said as she assisted Little One to the ground. “Can’t you see this is upsetting to her?”

  “To her?” Lorna said. “What about me? I’m the one alone in a teepee. Anyone could barge in at any time.”

  “Stands Tall won’t let that happen,” Meg said. “Besides, after what happened to the warrior from the Fox Band, no one would dare attempt to enter Black Horse’s lodge.”

  Flustered in ways she’d never been, Lorna pointed out, “Nothing happened to that warrior.”

  “He was shunned by my brother,” Little One said. “Therefore he is shunned by all. His people now call him He Who Shames.”

  “He has become an outcast,” Meg said.

  “But Black Horse saved him,” Lorna said. “Didn’t let that buffalo kill him.”

  “It was not his day to die,” Little One answered.

  An odd quiver touched Lorna’s spine. “You mean that warrior wanted to die? Wanted that buffalo to kill him?”

  “Death would be easier than being shunned by Black Horse,” Little One answered.

  “Did Black Horse know that? What the warrior...”

  “My brother knows all.”

  Just when she’d thought she’d figured something out, it twisted. She’d assumed Black Horse had saved the warrior because he was that forgiving and kind, and brave. He was, but— Sighing again, she let the thought go. It would just confuse her more.

  “If you’d like, I can ask Betty or Tillie to stay with you,” Meg said.

  Lorna plunked down on the ground next to the other two. “No, Tillie would miss those kids she’s grown so fond of, and Betty would keep me up talking all night. I’ll be fine.” It was true. Tillie was never seen anymore without a child holding her hand, or a cradle board hanging off her back—which was an interesting sight, her still wearing the black nun’s outfit every day—and Betty talked more now than ever. She’d become a self-proclaimed expert on the Cheyenne. “Where did Black Horse go on this vision quest?”

  “To a place in the hills where he is alone to pray to Maheo about the problems concerning his band and his family,” Meg answered. “Much like we Christians go to church in order pray to God.”

  “How long will it take?”

  Meg shrugged. “Until he receives a vision that will show him the answers.”

  Lorna propped her elbow on a crossed knee, and set her chin in her palm. “Church services are rarely over an hour long where I come from.” A chill made her quiver. “What if he doesn’t come back?”

  “He will come back,” Little One said. “And I must have my answer when he does.”

  Although she greatly wanted Black Horse to return soon, Lorna couldn’t help but say, “Now, don’t go making hasty decisions. That won’t help anyone.”

  Meg frowned.

  Lorna shrugged. “I left my home on a rash decision.”

  “Do you regret that now?”

  Lorna shook her head. Regret she would never have—not when it came to leaving England. “No, but I never had a family who cared. Little One does. She has two families that love her. You and the Cheyenne.”

  “Your family must have loved you,” Little One said. “Others, too. You had over a hundred people at your birthday party.”

  Lorna glanced at Meg, who shrugged.

  “I had a hundred people at my party,” Lorna said, “because that is what those hundred people do. They attend parties. No matter whose birthday it is, they are there, gifting the same items they gave the year before, the party before. That’s not love, it’s society. Like counting coup. Something to be bragged about.” A great weight filled her chest. “In reality, no one ever cared what I wanted. Didn’t care if it was my birthday or not. I could have had ten birthday parties a year and no one would have noticed because they weren’t there for me. No one cared if I was happy.” Her throat began to burn, and deep down she missed Black Horse more than she’d ever have imagined.

  Meg reached over and took a hold of her hand. “You’ve changed, Lorna.”

  “I know,” she admitted, “and I can’t say I like it.”

  A soft smiled formed on Meg’s lips. “You will, eventually, you will. It just takes some time to get used to.”

  “And then what?” Lorna asked. “I get used to it, then what?”

  Meg clearly didn’t know. There had been no need for her to shrug or shake her head. Lorna felt the exact same way. She had no idea what any of it meant. However, if the changes inside her meant she learned to care about people only to have them leave without a word of warning, then she’d rather go back to hating everyone. There was a lot less disappointment in that.

 
The one other thing she did know was that she wasn’t looking forward to sleeping alone tonight. It wasn’t because she was afraid, either.

  Pushing off the ground, she stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Do you want us to walk to the latrine with you?” Meg asked.

  “No, I’m fine,” Lorna answered, although fine was the very thing she wasn’t. “Night.”

  She told Stands Tall he could go to his lodge, but he refused. But even his reassuring presence did nothing to assuage her loneliness without Black Horse.

  * * *

  The next day it did something it hadn’t done in weeks. It rained. Not just a passing shower, but a downpour that lasted all day. However, life went on the same as usual. The tasks were simply moved indoors, including cooking. Except that was, for Stands Tall. He remained within a few feet of the lodge, getting soaked.

  “At least come inside and eat,” Lorna shouted past the roar of the falling rain. Meg and Little One, along with One Who Heals and a few other women had brought their chores into Black Horse’s lodge that morning, most likely knowing she wouldn’t have gone to one of theirs. When the rain had started early in the day, her thoughts had gone to Black Horse, alone in the hills somewhere, without shelter, without food. Actually, her thoughts had never really been without him, but they grew more concerning as the weather worsened.

  The women, besides their many chores, had brought along food and cooked it over a fire built in the center of the lodge, and the other men of their family roamed in and out to eat every so often. Stands Tall came in to eat, too, but only after One Who Heals had shouted a long line of words at him. He took a bowl of the boiled meat and sat near the flap to eat it while the women went back to their tasks.

  Lorna had been assigned to stitching two pieces of tanned deerskin together. The pieces were soft, but sturdy, and the sewing was not the kind she had been forced to learn in her younger years. Here she had a sharp awl, a bone from some animal—she didn’t ask what—that had been mounted into a wooden handle in order to punch holes in the hide. She threaded a piece of dried sinew through a hole, pulled it tight and repeated the action again a very precise distance. The stitches themselves were to make an X and needed to be as symmetrical as everything else in the Cheyenne world. This was very important. The women were very proud of their sewing and the slightest imperfection could ruin the entire project. It would be cut apart and used for something else.

  Smiles, or She Who Smiles, as Lorna had discovered, was the one teaching her. The woman had also been the one to show her most of the other tasks she’d learned. Lorna appreciated the woman’s patience, but after learning Smiles was Black Horse’s former mother-in-law, Lorna felt uncomfortable around her. There was no good reason. It was just there—inside her.

  Along with many other things. She’d spent most of the night staring at the empty bed across the lodge. One thought hung heavier than others. She wondered if Black Horse had left because he’d kissed her. Because she’d let him kiss her. As much as she didn’t want to compare it with what had happened when Douglas had burst into her bedroom last year, she couldn’t help it. Nothing about Black Horse reminded her of Douglas. They were complete opposites, and the events were as different as night and day. Except that Douglas had also said she’d teased him—and other men—for years. That she had gotten exactly what she’d deserved. Her mother had said something very similar, and she wondered if Black Horse thought that, too. That she’d been asking for it.

  They had been teasing each other, but not in the deceitful, devious way Douglas and her mother had implied. She hadn’t done anything remotely similar. Not back then, and not with Black Horse.

  Her old anger, that which had slowly been dissolving until it had almost disappeared, returned and ate at her as hungrily as it had when she’d left England. It made her desire for revenge that much stronger and once again made getting to California a burning need, while at the same time, she questioned leaving. It was tearing her apart.

  Later, when everyone prepared to return to their own lodges, she asked Meg, Tillie and Betty to stay for a few minutes. They looked at each other cautiously, but remained.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Lorna said when it was just the four of them. “What if we left now for California?” Instantly sensing arguments, she held up a hand. “Hear me out. We could lighten our load, hitch all four mules to one wagon so they wouldn’t have to work so hard and could travel farther each day. Maybe even buy some new mules at a town along the way.”

  “Carolyn hasn’t decided—”

  “I know,” Lorna interrupted Meg. “But she doesn’t have to decide. Not right now. Once we get to California and I complete my business, we could return. That would give Carolyn time to decide.”

  “Return?” Betty said. “You want to go to California, and then return here?”

  “Yes.” She chewed on her bottom lip before adding, “So Meg and Carolyn can have the time they need to get to know each other, and...” The silent reasoning she’d mulled over all day didn’t sound as good when spoken aloud.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Tillie said. “We’d never make the trip to California and back before winter. We’d have to wait until spring, and we’d have no idea where to find the band next summer.”

  “We could ask them where they’d be.”

  “They won’t know,” Betty said. “They follow the buffalo.”

  “We could ask them to leave a trail,” Lorna said.

  “One that anyone could follow?” Tillie asked. “That would be very dangerous for The People.”

  “It won’t work, Lorna,” Meg finally said. “Thank you for thinking of options, but that’s not one.” After a long sigh, Meg said, “It’s more complicated than any of us realize for Carolyn to make a decision. She’s reached the marrying age. No one has hurried her, because that would usually be left up to her parents, and Black Horse said it would be her decision to say when that might be. Normally, her parents would choose a fitting young man from another Cheyenne band, because that would strengthen their relationship with other bands. There, too, Black Horse has said the decision will be hers. During the hunt, while the bands were all gathered, a young man’s family approached One Who Heals, asking her to tell Black Horse they were interested in their son marrying Little One.”

  “Who is it?” Betty wanted to know. “I’ve met several families from all of the bands. Some very nice families.”

  Lorna’s jaw tightened. It was a good thing Betty had been gifted with the knowledge of how to cook, because sometimes she lacked common sense. Did she not remember the warrior trying to sneak into Moon Flower’s lodge?

  Meg was already replying to Betty. “His name is Swift Fox, and Little One is torn by this news. She has known Swift Fox for years. His band has joined Black Horse’s to hunt many times, and she has a great fondness for him.”

  Betty’s little moan of adoration was almost more than Lorna could take.

  “Swift Fox says he will become part of Black Horse’s band if Little One will marry him, and if Black Horse will permit it.”

  “What did Black Horse say?” Lorna asked, a bit miffed he hadn’t mentioned any of this to her.

  “He left before One Who Heals could tell him,” Meg answered. “Swift Fox and his family came to our lodge the night the hunt ended. The night before Black Horse left.”

  “Maybe Swift Fox had seen him and talked to him after speaking to One Who Heals,” Betty said. “And that’s what Black Horse is seeking in his vision. The correct answer.”

  Meg’s gaze settled on Lorna. “I don’t think so. Neither does One Who Heals. She thinks his vision quest is about something else entirely.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Black Horse had never experienced such discontent, or been so restless. He had spent five moons away from the village, and had many visions, yet still had no answers. At night, when he’d lain upon the earth beneath the towering pines, he had wished Poeso was here with him, just like in hi
s visions when she walked beside him. That had brought joy inside his heart, but he had seen a time of great anger, too. In his vision, an unknown band of warriors had not been pleased by Poeso being at his side and had argued when he’d refused to join them in a battle against the white men.

  His heart was heavy when he mounted Horse for the journey home. He had already stayed away too long, and for the first time he was not certain of what he must do. If Maheo had given him Poeso to walk beside him into the future, then that was what would happen, but she would not understand what that meant. She would not understand why he could not allow her to go to California and seek the white man’s money.

  He accepted many things, as was the Cheyenne way, but he could no longer deny the longing in his heart that told him Poeso was his true mate. Just as it was his duty to lead his people, it would be his duty to make her understand that. It would not be easy. He was used to people obeying his commands without question.

  That was one more thing Poeso did not understand. Commands. He grinned slightly. She had learned to fish and cook, butcher buffalo and many other things. He would make her learn this, too. It would not be so difficult.

  Black Horse clicked his tongue for Horse to increase their speed toward the camp as a sense of impatience grew larger within him.

  The camp crier saw him coming down the hill, and by the time he neared the village, children raced out to meet him. Most of the other bands had left. As far as he could tell, only Silver Bear’s clan remained with his. They were not a large band, their numbers much like his. Small groups fared better. It was easier to find enough food for fifty than for one hundred, and easier to hide when necessary. There were messengers who traveled between all of the bands, sharing news of friends and families, and warning of dangers. Word of Poeso and the other white women in his camp had already been carried to other bands, and he would be faced with many questions when the Tribal Council met after the leaves fell from the trees. That did not worry him.

  Black Horse grinned and lifted a hand to the children cheering his return, and allowed them to lead him and Horse into the center of the village. His homecoming warmed his heart. He felt whole again. Both as a warrior chief and a man. As he greeted friends and family, his eyes searched for one woman. The wagons were parked on the outskirts of the village, but he had not needed to see them to know she had not left. He had felt her presence inside him during his absence and knew she was still in the village.