The Cree chief stood stunned into silence. He had heard many tales of the young Blood chief, and today he had met the legendary Windhawk in all his fury. He tasted fear and knew he was indeed fortunate that he was still alive.
Walking outside, Horse Runner saw with a heavy heart that the ground was littered with the dead and dying. The fire from the smoldering tipis lit the skies.
“Such a day the world has never known,” he said, shaking his head sadly. It was still early morning, and the sun was barely up—yet he knew the Cree would long tell of this day—thus adding to the legend of Windhawk!
Horse Runner clasped his son’s armband in his hand and wondered if he were dead. Sadness and a need for revenge burned in his heart. Windhawk and his Bloods must pay for what they did here today! he thought bitterly.
It was later that same day when Stalking Wolf and Big Hand rode into their village. Their eyes were wide with fright at the scene of death that greeted them.
“Windhawk is of the spirit gods,” Big Hand told his friend. “His woman was right—we have brought his wrath down upon our people!”
The two young warriors rode past the burning tipis until they came to the chief’s lodge. In the dark recesses of their mind, they knew great fear as they realized, without being told, that Windhawk had done this thing to their people. Each of them felt guilt, knowing the part he had played in causing the death and destruction in their village.
Horse Runner watched his oldest son, Stalking Wolf, dismount with a heavy heart. “Where is your brother?” he asked in a thundering voice.
Stalking Wolf lowered his head, unable to meet his father’s eyes. “He is dead,” he whispered, feeling shame.
Horse Runner’s eyes were piercing as he took his spear and knocked his son to the ground with the handle. “You have much to answer for, Stalking Wolf! The blood of your brother and all who have died here today are on your hands, and they cry out to be avenged!”
The night was dark and cold—a steady, chilling rain was falling. Joanna leaned her head back against the tree trunk, feeling helpless. She was exhausted from trying to free herself. She knew her wrists were cut and bleeding from her struggle to get loose from the leather ropes.
Ominous sounds were coming from the darkened recesses of the dense forest, and Joanna shivered. The sounds of the wolf pack were drawing closer, and Joanna knew it would only be a matter of time before the animals would pick up her and Morning Song’s scent.
Joanna felt her child move within her body and again experienced a strong mother’s protectiveness toward her unborn baby. She must survive for her child’s sake!
“Morning Song, are you awake?” she asked.
“Yes,” came the weak reply. “I have a knife in my moccasin, Joanna, and have been trying to get to it.”
“Hurry, my sister! I fear we do not have much time,” Joanna urged.
Morning Song had heard the wolves getting nearer, and she bent her knees, bringing her legs up as close to her body as she could. Moving her head downward, she unlaced her moccasin with her teeth. Slowly bringing her foot forward, she slid it across her knee. Moments passed slowly, and at last, after a painful struggle, she was able to remove her moccasin. Bending forward once more, she picked up her moccasin with her teeth and dumped the knife into her lap.
Morning Song tried to decide how she could transfer the knife to her hand so she could cut the ropes. “Joanna, if I put the knife between my toes and bring my foot back to your hand, can you reach it?” she asked.
“I’ll try, Morning Song, but hurry!”
Anxious moments passed as Morning Song caught the knife between her toes and struggled to get to a kneeling position. The ropes cut deeply into her wrist, but she didn’t allow the pain to stop her. Joanna groped for the feel of the knife. Once Morning Song dropped the knife and had to start all over again.
Joanna could hear the wolves coming ever closer, and her heart pounded with fear. If they couldn’t free themselves, she prayed her death would come before Windhawk’s gentle sister’s. She didn’t want to be a witness to Morning Song’s being torn apart by the wolves’ sharp fangs.
Again Joanna groped for the knife, and soon was rewarded by feeling the sharp point biting into her skin. She grasped it by the tip and could feel it slipping. With a silent prayer to heaven, addressing her God and Windhawk’s, she prayed for the strength to hold on to the knife.
Degree by slow degree, she finally managed to transfer the knife to her other hand. Grasping the hilt, she cut into the leather ropes that were bound about Morning Song’s wrists, and the young girl jerked her hands free!
Morning Song quickly crawled over to Joanna and took the knife from her. Laughing and crying at the same time, she sliced through the rope, freeing Joanna!
Morning Song helped Joanna to her feet, and the two girls hugged each other tightly.
Joanna looked toward the dark woods and knew their only salvation from the hungry wolves would be to climb a tree. The one they had been tied to had low-hanging branches, so she decided it would be as good as any.
“Grab a branch and swing into the tree, Morning Song. The wolves will be here soon!”
After Morning Song had ascended into the tree, Joanna threw the buffalo robe up to her and then swung into the safety of the branches herself. The two girls climbed onto the higher branches until they felt they would be out of reach of the wolf pack.
They huddled together, quaking from fear as much as from the cold. They were both too tense to relax, and both realized they had a long way to go before they would be safe.
Morning Song looked down below, feeling relief wash over her. “I feel sure the wolves cannot reach us here, Joanna. We are safe!”
Joanna pulled the young girl’s head to rest on her shoulder. “No, they cannot get us now, Morning Song.”
Joanna thought the night would never end. The wind seemed to intensify, and the icy rain turned to sleet. She held Morning Song close to her, trying to keep them both warm beneath the buffalo robe. She was afraid to fall asleep herself for fear that one of them might tumble out of the tree.
She knew she loved Windhawk’s sweet sister, but she hadn’t known how much until the Cree had threatened to rape her. Morning Song had lived a very sheltered and protected life, and Joanna hated the thought that such ugliness had touched her world.
By now, the snarling, hunger-crazed wolf pack had reached the base of the tree and had picked up the girls’ scent. The wolves then circled the tree and leaped as high as they could, trying to get to the two girls. Joanna had no fear that the animals could reach their safe haven. She couldn’t help thinking that, had they not made it into the shelter of the tree, they would have been ripped apart by the wolves’ sharp fangs.
Joanna was cold and hungry, and her body ached all over. She didn’t know how they would ever get home—but they were alive, and for that she thanked God!
Morning Song’s sleep was disturbed by the sound of the snarling wolves, and Joanna talked to her in a soothing voice, hoping she would fall asleep again. The young girl was so tired she sighed and closed her eyes, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, where she felt warm and protected.
Windhawk rode into his village and went directly to his own lodge. He stripped his bloody garments off and fell down on his buffalo robe. “Do not think about Joanna and Morning Song,” he murmured out loud. “Sleep, I need sleep,” he whispered in a pain-filled voice. Closing his eyes, he prayed he wouldn’t dream of the charred bones of his wife and sister. He fell into such a deep sleep that he didn’t hear Red Bird enter his lodge. She stood over him, devouring his magnificent body with hungry eyes. She felt a tightening in her stomach and knew she must have this man!
“Leave the lodge of this chief!” Sun Woman said, taking Red Bird by the arm and pushing her none too gently toward the opening.
When they were outside the lodge, Red Bird shrugged Sun Woman’s hand off her arm. “I am the daughter of a great chief—you dare to treat me wi
th such disrespect?”
“As you know, I am the mother of Windhawk. I dare do as I please! Your father, Yellow Wing, was only recently made chief of the Piegans. My son, Windhawk, is not only chief of the Bloods, but his father was also a great chief.” Sun Woman was pleased to see the Piegan woman lower her eyes. “My son will not want you. He grieves for Flaming Hair.”
“I will help him forget the white-face woman,” Red Bird said, tossing her dark hair and facing the older woman with less arrogance now that she realized Sun Woman was a force to be reckoned with.
Sun Woman considered the Piegan woman’s words for a moment. She didn’t like Red Bird, but perhaps the woman could bring her son peace of mind. He was in torment over Joanna’s death. If this woman could bring him a few hours of forgetfulness, she would not object.
“Perhaps if Windhawk finds you in his lodge when he wakes, he will not send you away,” Sun Woman said thoughtfully. “Go inside and wait.”
Red Bird smiled at Windhawk’s mother. If she could win the mother’s respect, it might help her win the son over to her side.
When she reentered the lodge, her eyes were fever-bright. She lit the cook-fire, thinking she would first console Windhawk with a good meal, and then…then she would allow him to take her to his mat. Red Bird felt her body tremble excitedly when she looked at Windhawk. Never had she seen a man whose body was so magnificently proportioned! His face was so handsome she drew in her breath, wishing she dared touch him. She must have him—there would be no one to stand in her way now that Flaming Hair was dead!
All the next day the wolves stayed near the tree. Sometimes they would snarl and circle the tree, and every so often they would lunge at the branches. Once in a while the animals would tire of their pacing and lie down, their eyes looking menacingly up into the tree. Often one of the more adventuresome wolves would lunge at the tree, trying his best to reach Joanna and Morning Song.
Joanna and Morning Song had been able to satisfy their thirst by scooping up handfuls of sleet and putting it into their mouths. There was nothing they could do, however, to alleviate their growing hunger.
Morning Song grabbed hold of an overhead branch and stood up to ease her cramped leg muscles. “How long do you think the wolves will remain here?” she asked Joanna. “Do you think they will soon tire of watching us?”
“I do not know. They seem to be content to outlast us. If we just had food, we would be much better prepared to out-wait them.”
“We are not completely defenseless. I still have the knife,” Morning Song reminded Joanna.
Joanna smiled. “Little good that will do us. One of our main problems at the moment is making sure we do not fall out of the tree.”
“Do you think Windhawk will find us?”
“Who can say, Morning Song? The sleet will have covered our tracks. I fear if we are to be saved…we will have to do it by ourselves. I do not even know in which direction the Blackfoot village is located.”
Morning Song smiled and pointed in a southwesterly direction. “I know the way home, Joanna. Our village is many days in that direction.”
“We will have much against us, Morning Song. It is turning colder—we have the wolves to contend with, and there is no food. We will have to be strong and depend on each other for our very survival. That will be our only chance…if we are ever allowed to leave this tree!”
Morning Song sat down and looked at her beautiful sister-in-law. “I will help you all I can, Joanna. Somehow, I know we are going to make it back home.”
Joanna smiled at the young girl, feeling years older than her. She thought about trying to make small talk to draw Morning Song’s mind away from the wolves and her hunger.
“Tell me, is there some young brave in the village whom you feel will miss you, Morning Song?”
The young girl smiled. “There is no one except…” she lowered her head. “I sometimes look at Tag and wish he would notice me as a girl. He always treats me as his sister, and I wish he would not.”
Joanna looked at the lovely young girl in surprise. “I had no notion that you felt that way about Tag. How long has this been going on?”
“I have always loved Tag, but he does not notice me. I have seen him look at some of the other girls with interest, but never at me.”
Joanna smiled, hearing the jealousy in Morning Song’s voice. “I suspect he is too young to notice too many girls. Give him time…he will change.”
“I do not have much time. Tag will one day go away, and I will never see him again. My mother says that I am foolish to think of him as other than a brother, for he will not stay in our world.”
“Your mother is right, Morning Song. One day, Tag will leave us to settle an old debt. I would not want to see you hurt.”
Morning Song raised her dark eyes to Joanna. “If Tag would just once look at me as a woman, then I would be able to carry that memory in my heart forever. I have told my mother I will never marry because I…love Tag. I believe I shall always love him.”
Joanna pulled Morning Song into her arms and hugged her tightly. “Dear sweet, little sister, I see only heartbreak for you if you feel this way about Tag. He could no more stay with you than you could go with him to his world. I tell you this because I do not want you to be hurt; you are very dear to me.”
A sob broke from Morning Song’s lips. “Let us talk about something else. I get so sad when I think about Tag growing up and going away.”
Joanna pushed the tumbled hair from Morning Song’s face. “Would you like to talk about the baby Windhawk and I are going to have?”
Morning Song’s face brightened, and Joanna saw joy on her face. “I have often wanted to speak to you about the baby, but you did not seem to want to talk about it, so I kept my silence. I have wondered why Windhawk does not show his joy at being a father. He has been so different since he brought you back to our village.”
Joanna smiled sadly. “There are many reasons why Windhawk and I are no longer together. One of them is that he prefers Red Bird to me.”
“Oh, no, he loves you! I know this to be true. He does not love Red Bird!” Morning Song insisted.
“I once thought he loved me, Morning Song, but I no longer believe that. Windhawk believes the baby I carry belongs to a white man who was a friend of mine. He does not accept this child as his.”
“How can this be? I know you would never betray my brother with another man.”
“I wish your brother had as much faith in me as you do, little sister.”
Morning Song was quiet for a moment. “I know you and Windhawk are…apart. I thought it was because you ran away from him. Many times I felt sad in my heart that you and my brother were both suffering, but my mother said I could not speak to you about this. She said that whatever was wrong between the two of you concerned only you and Windhawk.”
“I did not run away from Windhawk, Morning Song. I was taken away against my will, but Windhawk does not believe that either.”
“When we get back to the village, I will tell him this. I know he will believe me,” Morning Song said in a determined voice.
“No, that is what you must not do. If Windhawk is to want me, he must come to me on his own. Do you not see, if he comes because of something you say to him, I will never know if he loves me or not.”
“He does not love Red Bird. I myself do not even like her.”
Joanna laughed and touched Morning Song’s cheek. “You have a loyal heart, little sister. You will grow to love any woman that your brother takes as his wife.”
Joanna hadn’t realized while they had been talking that the wolves had left in search of a more accessible prey. She strained her eyes, searching the darkness to be sure none of them were lurking in the shadows. Seeing no sign of the animals, she decided if she and Morning Song were going to survive, they would have to leave now. If they stayed any longer, the wolves might return. She felt deep fear at the thought of leaving the safety of the tree, knowing the wolves could return at any ti
me. With mental force, she pushed that fear aside.
“You wait here in the tree while I go down below,” Joanna cautioned the younger girl.
“No, let me go. I don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby,” Windhawk’s sister protested.
Joanna didn’t stay to argue the point, but grabbed hold of a branch and dropped to the ground. At first she was cautious, holding on to a low-hanging branch so she could swing herself back into the tree in case of danger. Moments passed, and she saw no sign of the wolves, so she let go of the branch. Turning around in a circle, while her eyes scanned the forest carefully, she was relieved to see no further sign of them.
She placed her finger to her lips and motioned for Morning Song to join her on the ground.
Joanna picked up a long stick, and Morning Song clutched her knife in her hand. Moving carefully away from the shelter of the tree, they walked quickly away.
Morning Song pointed Joanna in the right direction, and the two girls ran as fast as they could, not stopping until they felt they were far enough away from where the wolves had held them prisoner.
Chapter Seventeen
Windhawk awoke to the smell of roasting buffalo meat. When he had returned from the raid on the Cree village his lodge had been a mere shell, since most of his belongings were still packed in leather satchels. Now, he noticed someone had unpacked and had straightened the lodge, and his meal was cooking over the open flames.
Thinking his mother had set his lodge in order, he stood up. He felt such an emptiness inside. There was a deep ache left by Joanna’s death, and he knew it would never completely go away. His life would be no more than a meaningless, shallow existence without her.
The lodge flap was pushed aside, and he watched Red Bird enter, carrying an armload of firewood. His eyes widened in wonder at the woman’s brazen audacity in coming to his lodge uninvited.
“It has grown colder and begins to snow more heavily,” Red Bird said, dumping the wood beside the cook-fire and giving him a bright smile. When her eyes sought his, her heart seemed to flutter like some foolish young maiden’s. Her glance was drawn to his muscular body, which was clad only in a scant breechcloth, and she felt her heart flutter.
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