Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Janelle Taylor

  Chumani covertly observed the rough-looking man near her and realized he did not want them to be cheated, but was being given an enticing offer to aid the bargaining in Bert's favor. She was strangely disappointed when he dishonored himself.

  "It ain't right, Bert, but I'll do it if you throw in some flour and jerky. I had me a bad season last winter and I didn't earn enough on my pelts and furs to stake myself for next season. We got a deal?"

  "You're a tough barterer, my friend, but I agree."

  After Henry repeated Bert's words in Cheyenne, Chumani looked at the pile of furs, at the trade goods, and pretended to think for a while. She replied to Henry in Cheyenne, "I will trade one horse, the large brown one; the small spotted one is not mine to trade and is needed for carrying our goods. What goods must I not take for the trade to he a fair one?"

  Henry related her answer to Bert, who removed one of the kettles, a knife, and two blankets. "Give her the blankets and it's a deal," Henry said. "Even giving me my stuff, you're making at least twice what's fair."

  "Like I said, Henry," Bert scoffed, "you're a hard man to barter with, but I'll do it. They can tie up their stuff in their blankets and haul it away."

  Chumani watched Henry as he told her he had asked the man to be generous and allow her to keep the blankets and Bert had agreed. He bragged about the quality of the furs and her skills with tanning them. He admitted they were worth more, but that was the best deal Bert would offer and advised her to take it. He smiled and looked relieved when she agreed and smiled again when she thanked him in Cheyenne, "Ne-aese. "

  After the trade was completed, Bert summoned a worker to haul the skins to a store-house while he took the brown horse to the post stable. Henry offered to help the women tie up their goods in their new blankets and load the bundles on the spotted horse.

  As he did so, Henry asked their names, "Ne-toneseve-he?"

  Chumani pointed to herself and said, "Na-tsesevehe He-eheeno. "She motioned to Zitkala and alleged her name was Hestoekeheso.

  "Tosa a ne-hesta-he?" he asked where they came from.

  Chumani hoped her apprehension was concealed as he questioned them in a friendly manner and she tried to come up with responses which would not arouse his suspicions. She told him they came from far beyond the Mo ohta-vo honaaeva, the Black Hills.

  When Henry asked who their leader was, Chumani said, "Sharp Lance," a Cheyenne who lived and hunted in that area, according to what Wind Dancer had told her. Again, she hoped she appeared calm and he had never met that man and could not ask her things about him which she could not verify.

  Henry related he had spent part of two winters with Lone Wolf's band along the E ometaa e, what the white man called Little Missouri River.

  Chumani remarked in Cheyenne, "He is the brother of Fights-Hard; we have traded with his people. We thank you for helping us speak to the trader and load our horses. Now we must leave, for it is a long ride home." Panic raced through her as Henry voiced another question, and she wondered if he suspected anything about them.

  "Why did you two women come so far alone to Fort Pierre when Fort Laramie was closer to you?"

  "There are many Bluecoats there and they frighten us," Chumani said, looking him straight in the eye. "Others told us the traders here would give us more for our furs and hides." If he noticed she did not respond to the part of his question about traveling alone, it did not show to her.

  "Those are good and smart reasons. Ride safe, Blackbird and Fawn."

  "We thank you and ride for our camp. Come, Fawn, we go."

  They saw Zeb grin and nod to them as they passed him at the gate. They saw his sky-colored gaze sweep over the size of their bundles, and he grinned again as if aware of and amused by Bert's trickery. As they headed toward the rolling hills, both sensed the man's lustful gaze on their backs. They yearned to gallop off and escape it, but knew that was unwise.

  As soon as they were out of his hearing range, Chumani scoffed, "He is an evil man, and I would like to shoot an arrow into his breechclout shaft."

  Zitkala laughed. "It would burst into flames, for the fire in his breechclout was large and hot for you. The one with long hair on his face was not all bad; some of his words and feelings were good," she added in a serious tone. "But fear leapt within me when he asked you so many questions."

  "As it did with me, my friend, but I believe we guided him down the wrong path and he did not learn the truth about us."

  "I was no help, Dewdrops, for you tricked him, tricked all of them, with your cunning words and your sly face. If I did not know you spoke false, I would be misled as they were. My pride and love are large for you."

  "You honor me, my friend, and I thank you. But I could not have come here alone; only with you at my side did I feel brave and cunning."

  "We have ridden, hunted, and fought together many times on past suns, but this glorious deed stirs my heart and soars my spirit more than any other occasions for we traveled into the white wolf's deepest den, defeated him there, and left unharmed. Our companions will be pleased by our victory."

  Chumani watched Zitkala's gaze fly as an arrow to where the men awaited them, and she teased her best friend in affection. "Your eyes soften and your cheeks glow as with the sky when the sun goes to sleep. Your love and desire for Red Feather grow larger each sun and moon, do they not?"

  Zitkala touched her flushed cheeks. "That is so, Dewdrops, but those feelings are still strange to me. How can I be sure he truly loves and desires me as I do him?"

  "His eyes, voice, and body will reveal what lives in his heart. Gaze into his eyes as he speaks, listen to the sound of his voice when he speaks, watch how his body stands or moves when he talks to you. If only friendship and desire live within him, it will be revealed in those places. That is how I knew Wind Dancer spoke the truth to me. It is not wrong or weak for you to be wary and to walk this new path slowly."

  "Your words are wise, Dewdrops, and I will follow them."

  As they neared the men's location, they ceased their private talk. When they were out of the post's sight behind a lofty hill, they dismounted.

  Wind Dancer embraced his wife, closed his eyes, and thanked the Great Spirit for returning her to him. He leaned away from her with hands resting on either side of her waist, smiled, and said, "Now my breath can come easy; my heart slow its swift pace."

  "As can mine, mihigna, " Chumani replied as her gaze swept over him. She was warmed and elated as his look of concern waxed to relief and joy. The expression in his dark eyes, the tone of his voice, and the gentle touch of his hands told her he loved her as much as any spoken words could reveal.

  Red Feather smiled and echoed that sentiment, "As can mine to have Dewdrops and Zitkala returned to us. We have not rested in ease since your departure and our eyes have not left the post. I am proud and happy you carried out your daring task successfully. With so many White-eyes there, a rescue would have been hard and dangerous, but we would have attempted one as soon as darkness blanketed the land."

  Zitkala smiled at Red Feather, for his gaze was on her as he spoke and it seemed as if he sneaked a special message to her between his words. Her heart swelled with intense and powerful emotions.

  "Tell us of your deed," War Eagle coaxed as he watched the couples exchange smiles and looks of shared love and desire, though Red Feather and Zitkala tried to conceal theirs from their observers and each other.

  "We will sit and talk after the horses are tended," Wind Dancer told his younger brother at he glanced at the dark, threatening sky. "They must be unloaded and given water so they can graze while we speak."

  During the women's return ride, huge white clouds had formed in all directions and drifted overhead, their snowy surfaces attacked by ever-darkening gray splotches. Often, the sun would vanish behind them for long periods, providing temporary shade from its glowing heat.

  As more time passed, the Plains wind began to gust more forcefully and the early-summer air cooled slightly. All prayed the
weather would hold steady until after they carried out their daring plan.

  After those tasks were completed and the five sat in a circle on the grass in cross-legged positions, the two Brule women related the episode in detail.

  "It is good the Whites blame the Crow for our raids on their dwellings, and soon the Crow will blame the Whites for raids upon theirs."

  "That is true, my brother," Wind Dancer said, "but it did not provoke them to attack the Crow camp as we hoped."

  "They did not do so, for there were too many Bird Warriors for that number of wasicun to challenge," Chumani reminded the men. "The men talking inside the post said they did not send for Bluecoats, for the Crow and the stolen horses would be gone before the soldiers could reach their camp. But the families along the great river banded together and placed guards around their wooden tepees, and many kinds of creatures. Some I have not seen before," she added, referring to the chickens, cows, and pigs. "It is the same with those at the trading post, they take their animals inside while the moon rides the night sky."

  "We will make it too risky for the Whites to live and hunt in our lands, and too dangerous for our Crow enemies to attack us," War Eagle proposed.

  The other four nodded agreement.

  As they awaited the needed cover of night, they lay on their stomachs atop the hill in tall grass and observed the trading post. At one point, Bert walked to the gate with another man and spoke with Zeb. Chumani identified them as the trader who had cheated them and the guard who had lusted for them, but she did not recognize the third man, who held two sets of horses' reins in his grasp.

  They watched as Bert talked to Zeb, as he pointed in the direction of the women's recent departure. Zeb shook his head as he motioned to the ominous sky surrounding them and seemed to argue against the other man's orders. Finally, Bert nodded and left the gate, as did the third man with the saddled horses, and Zeb returned to his guard duty, glancing skyward again.

  Chumani frowned and surmised, "The evil trader seeks to send them after us to steal our horses and trade goods. Our three horses will bring him much . . . `mon-ney,' he said, so he wants them to sell."

  "And he can trade your goods to another Indian for more furs and hides," Wind Dancer explained. "They will wait until the storm passes before they ride after you, for they know you will travel slow and must halt when it strikes. If they can find our tracks after Mother Earth refreshes her face with much water, we will welcome them into our camp and arms," he scoffed.

  "It will be a good and victorious fight and we will punish them for their evil," War Eagle ventured, and the other men smiled and nodded.

  As they went over every angle and possible obstacle to their impending raid and talked about other important things the women had overheard, the storm's violent threat heightened. Soon, they knew, they must decide whether or not to carry out their already difficult challenge if the storm struck with great fury, which it did within a short time.

  As rain poured upon them, lightning flashed across the darkened sky in dazzling displays, and thunder followed in loud and lengthy peals which often shook the ground. A fierce wind pummeled stalks of grass and wildflower stems and tore loose thick green blades and colorful blossoms. Its powerful force yanked at their soaked garments and braided black hair. Streams of clear liquid flowed down their faces, arms, and legs, dripping swiftly from their leggings to the already saturated surface. The sun, early rising stars, and recent full moon were concealed by the deep gray covering overhead. Only frequent bright charges and the last remains of daylight allowed them to see each other, and the heavy deluge obliterated a clear view of the post and their targets.

  They reasoned that the awesome storm would keep all Whites and the Indians who camped nearby inside their dwellings either until it passed or until morning. They had watched the post's grazing animals being gathered and herded into the lofty enclosure. They had seen both gates being closed and assumed they were barred afterward for protection. They saw extensive and prolonged lightning bolts separate into several branches which split into smaller limbs. Thunder rumbled almost continuously, reminding them of war drums beating.

  At last, Wind Dancer crowded them together to give his orders. "We must go while they are held captive by the storm," he said. "We will take my horse to carry our raid goods, for he is well trained and obeys me in all times. Dewdrops, you will stay here and guard the others or the fury of the sky spirits might frighten them away. We cannot stake them to Mother Earth, for her face is too soft from rain to grip them tightly enough. If we fail to return before the moon sleeps, go to our camp and tell our people all that happened here. Do not try to rescue us if we are taken captive or avenge us if we are slain, for it is certain death to do so."

  A surprised Chumani asked, "Why must I be the one to stay?"

  Wind Dancer grasped her slick hands in his. "I do not choose you to remain here because I love you and fear for your safety or doubt your skills. You are the Vision Woman, so you must live to continue our sacred quest if I cannot do so. If both of the vision leaders are lost, our people may lose hope and will not know how to walk our path to victory. And our horses need comfort and protection. Zitkala is larger and stronger and must help us with our task, as are Red Feather and War Eagle. My words are hard to accept, mitawin, but they are wise and true."

  "That is so, mihigna. I will obey," she said as her gaze locked on his.

  Wind Dancer smiled, pleased by her quick compliance. "Do not worry, micante, for we will return soon and leave this evil place together."

  "That is so, mihigna. " Chumani turned to the small group. "Be careful," she said to them and each nodded to her. She wanted to embrace her husband and best friend, but reasoned that might appear as if she doubted their chance of survival. Yet, as she watched the four vanish into an impenetrable deluge, she was all too cognizant of the grim possibility she may have seen them for a last time.

  At a prechosen site on the bank, Wind Dancer and Red Featherclad in breechclouts and barefooted-slipped into the swift and muddy Mnisose to swim toward two keelboats which were tied up at the post's landing. Enormous strength and stamina were required to battle the river's awesome currents and intense concentration needed to evade branches and logs that were bobbing furiously on or just below its choppy surface. It was even more perilous when they hastily ducked beneath the water whenever lightning illuminated the area to prevent being seen by an enemy, a few times almost ascending in the perilous path of a large limb.

  Much earlier, they had seen twelve keelmen-six per boat-hurriedly setting up tents to escape the storm's impending fury, that encampment situated a short distance away on higher and harder ground. With the aid of a dazzling lightning display, they had sighted two men on the front boat who were crouched beneath a canvas shelter. They had suspected guards might be left aboard, so they had approached their first goal with great caution.

  After reaching it, the two Oglala warriors heaved slick and chilled bodies over its side where eight men sometimes sat on benches to row the boat downstream and a sighter stood at all times to watch for hazards. Wind Dancer and Red Feather concealed themselves behind a large oblong wooden structure in its center, certain their movements went unnoticed on a steadily undulating boat. They exchanged hand signals as they made an assault plan. Using the plankways where four men walked back and forth on each side as they poled the craft upriver, Wind Dancer sneaked along the right one and Red Feather crept along the left, the storage area separating them.

  They struck simultaneously and caught the white men by surprise, rendering them unconscious before they could shout for help or defend themselves. Wind Dancer and Red Feather only bound and gagged their helpless prey, as there was no honor in or coup to be earned from killing men who did not linger in their land. They made their way to the second boat, but there were no men standing guard there; they thought that was strange since the load to be sold upriver at other trading posts was said to be valuable, if the two women had overheard two keelm
en's talk correctly. They assumed no one was in the wooden room because there were no windows and its three doors were locked from the outside. The men considered it fortunate that the entryways were located on the structure's side away from the riverbank, as it would obscure their presence and actions from enemy eyes.

  Wind Dancer waited until the thunder quieted before he sent forth a series of bird calls to summon War Eagle and Zitkala to join them. Then the four of them gathered on the far side of the keelboat. Wind Dancer took the Crow hatchet from War Eagle to chop away the storage room's three locks, timing each thud to be muffled by thunder which growled like an angry grizzly. They opened the doors and looked inside. When lightning flashed to illuminate the area, they found stacks of oblong crates, large barrels and small kegs, so many that no space had been left for the keelmen to sleep aboard out of the rain.

  Wind Dancer used the hatchet to pry off a crate top. He lifted out a long weapon and said, "They are filled with firesticks as Dewdrops and Zitkala learned at the post. We must push the wasicun's weapons into the river. The water spirits will destroy them so they cannot be used to attack us and our allies or be used to slay the Creator's buffalo and other creatures."

  Wind Dancer told them they could not use a torch or lantern, as the glow of either might be sighted from the rivermen's camp. More important, gunpowder was dangerous and deadly. He reminded them that black powder fed the long and short firesticks, the swift spitting howitzer, and the powerful cannon.

  The four set to work easing unsealed heavy crates of arms and opened barrels of gunpowder into the greedy currents which either gobbled them up immediately or sent them floating along until they filled with water and sank. Although the storm's violent attack on the area continued, they did not shove the load overboard recklessly and risk creating noisy splashes or scrapes against the boat's surface. They moved gingerly on the slick deck, relieved their moccasins gripped it sufficiently to prevent accidents. As they labored, all they could do was pray that the lightning would not strike them, which could be fatal. Rain gushed over them and dripped from their garments. They yearned for dry clothes and footwear, a warm blanket, a cozy tepee and fire, and a hot drink made from refreshing herbs gathered on the Plains. Their muscles ached from their constant exertions, yet they knew what they were doing was important, so they refused to halt until they either finished or were forced to flee the scene.