Savage Winter

by Constance O'Banyon

  “It is good to look upon your face, Morning Song,” Tag said, using the customary greeting.

  He was startled when the other maidens started giggling and covered their mouths with their hands. He gave Morning Song an inquiring glance, and she merely shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t tell him that the others were laughing because they knew that she loved him.

  “Is my sister in the lodge?” he asked.

  “Tag, walk with me…I think you should know what is going on,” Morning Song told him.

  He gave her a quizzical glance—taking her arm, he steered her in the direction of the river. “You do not have to tell me, Morning Song. I think I can guess that Joanna is still staying with you and your mother.”

  Morning Song nodded sadly. “Yes, I hurt so badly that she and Windhawk cannot solve their differences. They have so much love to give, and yet they cannot seem to speak of it one to the other.”

  Tag stopped and looked into Morning Song’s face. “I also feel pain that they should be apart…but nothing you and I can do will help. They must work this out for themselves. I do not understand how such a thing could happen. It seems so simple to me—all they have to do is talk. Farley says that wars could be avoided if only people would talk to each other. It is the same with Joanna and Windhawk.”

  Morning Song nodded. “It is as you say, but I wish there was something I could do to help them.”

  Suddenly, Tag noticed the way Morning Song’s hair seemed to glisten blue-black in the bright sunlight. As his eyes moved over her lovely face, he stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. Why had he never noticed that her face was lovely beyond compare, and that her eyes were large, dark pools that one could get lost in? Feeling a tightening in his chest, he lowered his eyes.

  He was confused by this new stirring within him. Morning Song was like a sister to him. Why was he experiencing this new emotion that left him feeling shaken? He reached for something to say to bring his troubled thoughts under control.

  “Your brother should never have brought Red Bird into his lodge. I do not blame my sister for being angry,” he said, knowing how defensive Morning Song was where her brother was concerned. He was hoping she would become angry with him to distract his wayward emotions.

  “I believe as you do, Tag. Windhawk has made a grave mistake, but I think he realizes that, for he has sent Red Bird to Gray Fox’s tipi. I am told that she will be returning to the Piegan village very soon.”

  Tag gazed across the distant valley because he found looking at Morning Song much too disturbing for his peace of mind. “I am no longer called Tag. I have won my name,” he stated, feeling pride at his accomplishment and wanting Morning Song to be proud of him also.

  Morning Song placed her hand on his arm. “I know—I had heard this. I…we…are very proud of you. What is the name you were given?”

  His deep blue eyes swung around to rest on her face, and he caught his breath at the pride he saw mirrored there. She was proud of him, he thought, and wondered why a warm sensation seemed to circle his heart.

  “I am now called Mountain Wolf.”

  She smiled. “I think you will always be Tag to me.”

  He decided to change the subject. “How is your mother?”

  “She is in good health.”

  “That is good. How is the baby?” How strange he felt—he had never been shy with Morning Song before. He now seemed to be making small talk and wondered if she could sense his unrest.

  Morning Song smiled. “He is beautiful.”

  “Boys are not supposed to be beautiful.”

  “Little Hawk is,” she answered, wishing she dared to say that she thought Tag was beautiful, also. His hair was the golden color of the corn, and his eyes were the same deep violet-blue as Joanna’s. He still had the slimness of youth, but his shoulders were wide, and he was tall for his age.

  She ducked her head, hoping he hadn’t read the adoration in her eyes. She remembered Joanna’s telling her that Tag would one day have to return to the white world, and she felt a deep sadness, thinking that when that time came she would never see him again.

  “Where will I find my sister?” he asked, thinking it would be best to leave before he made a complete fool of himself. He looked toward Sun Woman’s tipi to avoid looking at Morning Song.

  “I saw her walking toward the woods with the baby only a few moments before you came. If you would like, I will care for your horse, and you can go to her.”

  Tag nodded and turned away, rushing toward the woods.

  Joanna’s father had always been a firm believer in fresh air: He had sworn it was the secret to good health. Joanna could attest to that theory, since the Indian children enjoyed such good health. She had bundled Little Hawk up warmly to take him for a walk.

  The warm sun was shining, and the snow was beginning to melt across the valley, so she decided to be more adventurous and walk in the woods.

  Little Hawk seemed to be aware of everything that was going on around him; his eyes fastened on his mother’s face, and he smiled brightly. Joanna’s laughter bubbled out, and she kissed him. How dear he was to her. She was finding out what a delight it was being a mother. She loved having someone depend on her for his health and happiness as Little Hawk did. She hoped she would always be able to fill his life with happy days. Joanna tried not to think about his father, but she wasn’t always successful.

  Red Bird followed Joanna at a safe distance. She had been told by Gray Fox that Windhawk was sending her back to her father the next day. If she was going to get her revenge on Flaming Hair, it would have to be today.

  She looked behind her to see if anyone was watching. Seeing no one about, she gripped the hilt of her knife and darted behind a pine tree. How fortunate she was that Flaming Hair had decided to walk in the woods today. There would be no one around to hear her cry for help!

  Red Bird tested the knife blade to make sure it was sharp. She was glad she had thought to bring it with her. Looking once more behind her, she entered the woods cautiously, searching for signs that would lead her to Flaming Hair.

  Joanna sat on a log holding Little Hawk on her lap. “You are so wonderful,” she said, as he smiled up at her. “When you smile at me like that it just melts my heart.”

  Little Hawk gurgled and cooed at his mother, and she laughed delightedly, not knowing that they were at that moment being watched by jealous, malignant eyes.

  Windhawk rode into the village and dismounted. Seeing Morning Song, he walked over to her, smiling. “How are you, little sister?” he inquired.

  She smiled brightly and threw herself into his arms. “I am fine now that you are home. Why did you stay away so long? We have all missed you, my brother.”

  He hugged her tightly, then set her on her feet. “I believe you grow more beautiful each time I go away and come back,” he teased lightly.

  “You are just saying that. I am not beautiful.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “Have you had no young braves telling you that you are beautiful?”

  “No, Windhawk…at least, not anyone who matters.”

  “They must all be blind to overlook the most beautiful flower of them all.”

  “There is one more fair than I, Windhawk,” she said, watching his face. “Joanna is by far more beautiful.”

  His eyes darkened, and he looked past her to his mother’s tipi. “Where is Joanna?”

  “I saw her a short time ago walking with the baby toward the woods. Tag has gone to find her.”

  Windhawk’s eyes swept past the village to the woods. Suddenly, he felt something cold touch his heart. Some instinct told him that Joanna and the baby were in danger! He remembered the dream he had had where Joanna had been stabbed by some unknown person, and he knew it hadn’t been a dream, but a premonition.

  Morning Song watched her brother running toward his horse with a puzzled expression on her face. She was surprised when he bound onto the animal’s back and rode swiftly away from the village,
heading toward the woods. She wondered why he was acting so strangely.

  Joanna noticed the way the soft snow still clung to the branches of the cottonwood trees. While it was quite warm in the valley where the sun was shining, it was much colder here in the forest. She knew it wouldn’t be too many more weeks before spring came to Blackfoot country. She was anxious for winter to be over—she yearned for the time when the countryside would come alive with a burst of spring flowers.

  Hearing someone coming through the woods, Joanna got to her feet holding Little Hawk closely to her and waited for whomever it was to make himself known to her. She was unafraid, because by now she had learned to tell the moccasin footsteps from those of an animal. She felt confident it would be someone from the village.

  When Joanna recognized that the intruder was Red Bird, she gathered Little Hawk still closer to her with the intention of returning to the village. She had no wish to talk to the Piegan woman.

  Red Bird stepped in front of Joanna. “Wait, Flaming Hair, I want to talk to you.”

  “You could say nothing I would want to hear, Red Bird,” Joanna answered, backing up a pace.

  “I know how you must feel toward me, but I am leaving for my village tomorrow. I just wanted to talk to you a moment and tell you good-bye.”

  “I had heard you are leaving…I will not pretend I am sorry,” Joanna told her.

  Red Bird’s eyes fastened on the face of Windhawk’s son. It was the first time she had seen the baby up close. “Yes, you have won, Flaming Hair.”

  “I was not aware that you and I were in a contest—what have I won?”

  Red Bird’s eyes gleamed. “You are right—it was never a contest. You had Windhawk all the time. I was never anything to him,” Red Bird admitted, knowing the Flaming Hair would soon be dead.

  Joanna knew she should leave, but she wanted to hear more. “I was not the one living in Windhawk’s lodge; you were.”

  The Piegan woman reached out and touched Little Hawk’s face. “I was nothing more than someone to cook and clean for Windhawk. I lied to you when I said that I had lain with him; he never touched me.” Red Bird smiled. “I wanted you to think that he and I were lovers so you would not want to be with him anymore.”

  “You forget, I saw you and Windhawk in his lodge—you were undressed, and he was holding you in his arms.”

  Red Bird laughed bitterly. “What you saw was me offering myself to Windhawk; what you did not see was him turning me away.”

  Joanna closed her eyes, wishing with all her heart that Red Bird was telling the truth. However, she didn’t trust the woman…if she had lied before, she could be telling a lie now. “I must get back to the village right away. It is too cold to keep Little Hawk out for very long at a time,” she said, stepping forward.

  “I wonder if you would allow me to hold Windhawk’s son? Since I will never be the mother of his children, surely you will not deny me this one request.”

  Joanna couldn’t stand the thought of Red Bird’s holding Little Hawk, nor did she like the way she was staring at her son with such a peculiar glint in her eyes.

  “As I said, I am returning to the village.” Joanna tried to step around Red Bird, but when she did—the woman grabbed Little Hawk out of her arms!

  Joanna reached for the baby, but Red Bird stepped back quickly. She froze in her tracks when the Piegan woman withdrew her knife and held it at the baby’s throat!

  “I will not hesitate to kill this child if you come one step closer!” Red Bird threatened.

  Joanna resisted the urge to rush forward and take her baby from Red Bird. Fearing the woman would make good her threat and harm her son if she made a sudden move in her direction, she tried to act calm. She could see the strange, eerie glow in Red Bird’s eyes and knew instantly that the woman must be mad!

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked through trembling lips. “Surely you would not harm my baby!”

  “I have no quarrel with this child. It is you that I will see dead.”

  “I do not understand. I have never done anything to you,” Joanna said, taking a cautious step forward, thinking it would be well to keep the woman talking.

  “Have you not? I offered myself to Windhawk…he spurned me! Me, the daughter of a powerful chief. All he ever thought about was you. That is why I hate you!” The woman screeched hysterically.

  Joanna feared what Red Bird might do should she say the wrong thing to her. She took another step forward, watching Red Bird’s face carefully; it was distorted with hatred and anger, and she feared more than ever for her son. Joanna realized she must try to reason with the Piegan.

  “I am sure Windhawk cares for you. Why else would he allow you to stay in his lodge?”

  “I know what you thought!” Red Bird cried in a loud voice. “What you thought was that Windhawk had replaced you with me. He would have no part of me!” The woman’s voice rose, and her eyes were wild. “He wanted you when he could have had me!”

  Joanna realized in that moment that Red Bird was past reasoning with. She had to get Little Hawk away from her before she harmed him.

  “If it were not for you, I would now be Windhawk’s wife. You have the white face and are not worthy of him. You are white!”

  “Red Bird, let me have my baby, and we will talk.”

  The woman looked down at Little Hawk as if she had forgotten she was holding him. The knife in her hand wavered, and she smiled maliciously. “This could have been my son. He does not look like the son of a white face.”

  Joanna took another step, and Red Bird jerked the baby tighter against her. “Do not come any closer. I have told you I will kill this child!”

  “Your quarrel is not with the baby but with me. Put Little Hawk down, and we will talk.”

  Red Bird’s eyes fastened on Joanna’s. “Talk! What good would it do to talk to you?”

  “I understand how you are feeling. I, too, was spurned by Windhawk. He no longer wants me. Was I not banished to his mother’s tipi?”

  “You don’t speak the truth. If you would hold out your hand to Windhawk, he would take it. Have I not heard him call out your name in his sleep?”

  “No!” Joanna cried out. It was too painful for her to hear this woman’s lies. “Windhawk did not want me anymore. You are not telling the truth. Windhawk no longer looks at me with love. Give me my baby!”

  Red Bird didn’t hear the soft moccasin footsteps that came up behind her, but Joanna saw Tag moving cautiously toward her. She wanted to cry out to her brother not to make a sudden move, lest the crazed woman harm Little Hawk.

  Everything seemed to happen at once. Tag sprang forward and grabbed the baby, pushing Red Bird out of the way. Red Bird lunged at Joanna and knocked her to the ground. The two women struggled and rolled down a steep slope. Joanna grabbed the hand that held the knife and tried to wrestle the weapon out of Red Bird’s hand. It soon became apparent to Joanna that the other woman was much stronger than she was.

  Red Bird pushed Joanna over on her back and straddled her, trapping her hands above her head. Joanna watched in a dreamlike state as the knife came close to her throat! She tried to call out, but the words stuck in her mouth. She felt fear like a cold hand on her heart. She was going to die, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it!

  Turning her head, Joanna saw Tag hurrying down the slope toward her, but she knew he would arrive too late to save her. She had only moments to live!

  Red Bird also saw Tag and laughed menacingly. “Nothing can save you, Flaming Hair. Today you will walk the spirit world.” Her laughter rang out again, and Joanna tried to get free of her grasp.

  “You will die, Flaming Hair. Windhawk will not feel love for a dead woman who rots on the scaffold!”

  In that moment, Joanna knew that Windhawk had never betrayed her with this woman. Was she going to die before she could tell him of her love?

  Wrenching her hands away from Red Bird’s, she tried to push the knife away from her throat. She could see T
ag standing helplessly behind Red Bird, and she knew he hesitated to make a move, fearing Red Bird would panic and thrust the knife into her throat.

  Joanna could feel her strength waning, and the tip of the knife touched her throat. She closed her eyes, knowing the end was at hand.

  Hearing a whirring sound and then a soft thud, Joanna opened her eyes to see the Piegan woman’s startled expression. There was an arrow sticking out of the woman’s chest, and Joanna watched in horror as blood ran out of Red Bird’s mouth and down the front of her doeskin dress!

  Red Bird gasped and tried to speak, then fell over on the ground…dead!

  Joanna was too stunned to react at first. She felt Windhawk kneeling down beside her, and she sobbed when he pulled her into his arms. She was trembling so badly she couldn’t speak. She wondered vaguely what he was doing there.

  Windhawk had killed Red Bird! she thought in horror. Soft whimpering sounds were coming from Joanna’s throat as Windhawk helped her to her feet.

  Joanna’s eyes were drawn back to the Piegan woman, and she could see the woman’s eyes were bulging out, and her mouth was gaping open. Shuddering, Joanna turned her face away and closed her eyes.

  “You killed her—you killed Red Bird!” was all she could say.

  Tag showed Joanna the baby so she would know he hadn’t been harmed. Windhawk lifted her into his arms and carried her to his horse. As they rode back to the village, Windhawk held her tightly, trying to still the tremors that shook her body.

  Since Tag didn’t have his horse, he followed closely behind on foot, carrying Little Hawk in his arms, wondering why that crazy woman had tried to kill his sister.

  Joanna was crying softly as Windhawk carried her into his mother’s tipi and laid her down upon the buffalo robe.

  “See to her and the baby,” Windhawk told his mother. “I must take Red Bird’s body back to her people.”

  Joanna didn’t even hear Windhawk leave; she was too busy checking Little Hawk to make sure he was unharmed.

  Later, when Joanna had time to think, her mind was a jumble of truths and half-truths. She was no longer sure what was true. All she could think about was how closely her son had come to being harmed by the deranged Red Bird, and that she herself had come very near dying.