Savage Winter

by Constance O'Banyon

  Farley pushed the flap aside and entered. He looked at the boy and then at Joanna. “How is the boy?” he asked.

  “He is going to be all right, Farley,” Joanna assured him.

  “In that case, I think you had better come with me,” the old man said.

  Joanna was hesitant about leaving Tag, but Farley’s eyes told her that something was wrong.

  The old man took her hand and helped her stand. “It’s Fosset…he’s in pain. I think we are going to have to put him out of his misery.”

  “No!” Joanna screamed, running from the lodge. Seeing Fosset lying on the ground, she fell on her knees, running her hand over his smooth flank. Tears of overwhelming grief blinded her as Fosset tried to raise his head and an agonizing sound issued from him.

  “Oh, Fosset,” she cried laying her face against his. He couldn’t die. Her father had given him to her.

  Windhawk knelt down beside her and began examining Fosset’s two front legs. His expression was grim as he looked at Joanna. “Both legs are broken—we must put him out of his pain, Joanna,” he said sadly.

  “No, I will not allow you to do this! You do not understand. Fosset saved my life! If it hadn’t been for him, I would now be dead!”

  Windhawk stood and pulled Joanna up with him. “It is good that the horse that brought you and me together should die saving your life,” he whispered, knowing what she was feeling. “Fosset is in pain, Joanna—we must release his spirit.”

  Joanna wrenched her hand away from Windhawk and knelt down again. “Oh, Fosset, you have served me well,” she cried, laying her face against his again.

  The horse seemed to look straight into Joanna’s eyes, and she saw he was in pain.

  “Go inside, Joanna…I will attend to Fosset,” Windhawk told her. He knew what she was feeling and wished he could spare her.

  “No!” she cried. “If it must be done, then I will do it. Farley, give me your gun.”

  The old man gazed at her doubtfully for a moment, but the look in her eyes told him she meant what she said. He made sure his gun was loaded and then handed it to her. Farley watched Joanna raise the rifle to her shoulder, as she took careful aim.

  Windhawk saw Joanna’s hand tremble and knew how hard it was for her to kill the magnificent animal that she had loved so well. He remembered that the first time he had seen her she had been watering Fosset at the river.

  Joanna took careful aim and then quickly pulled the trigger. Her aim had been good—Fosset twitched, then died instantly. She threw down the gun and raced into Windhawk’s lodge, where she fell down on the buffalo robe to cry out her grief.

  Windhawk and Farley exchanged glances in their shared concern for Joanna’s feelings.

  On Windhawk’s instructions, Farley had ridden out to bring the women and children back home, while Gray Fox and twenty Blackfoot warriors had come upon the last of Assiniboin braves. Gray Fox reminded the warriors of Windhawk’s orders to let no man live.

  The two tribes came together for the second time that day. Gray Fox removed his knife from the chest of an enemy and turned, looking for the next foe to engage. Glancing to his left, he saw a warrior sitting atop a black horse. Thinking the man must be the chief of the Assiniboin, he raced toward him. He knew that Windhawk would want the chief alive.

  Chief River Walker braced himself as he saw the Blackfoot warrior lunge at him. He had no time to raise his lance as Gray Fox pulled him from his horse and held him in a tight grip until he stopped struggling.

  “Are you the chief of the Assiniboin?” Gray Fox asked.

  “Yes, I am called River Walker. Kill me, I have no fear of death at the hands of a Blackfoot!”

  “Today you will wish you had never heard of the Blood Blackfoot,” Gray Fox told him. “I will not kill you, but instead take you to Windhawk. You will face his wrath.”

  Gray Fox did not miss the fear that leaped into the chief’s eyes at the mention of Windhawk. River Walker knew he was defeated, but he would not act the part of a coward.

  Gray Fox felt respect for the man when he raised his head proudly and faced him. “I will see this Windhawk. There will be no shame for my family to bear if I die at the hands of the great chief, Windhawk.”

  Tag had suffered with ill grace while Joanna bandaged his wounds. There was no time to reflect on what had happened that day, as there were many wounded to attend to.

  The injured were all brought into Windhawk’s lodge, and Joanna moved from one to another, tending them as best she could.

  Soon the women and children returned to the village, and the Blackfoot began to count their dead. There were twenty warriors who had lost their lives, and a gloom settled over the village.

  The women came to Windhawk’s lodge to remove their wounded warriors and took them to their own lodges to tend them. Several of the tipis had been burned, and the Blackfoot whose tipis were still intact shared their homes with their less fortunate friends.

  Joanna sat beside Tag, bathing his face. “It is very sad, Tag, that so many had to die. It was all so useless, and what did it prove?”

  Tag took Joanna’s hand. “Perhaps it has served one purpose. Our enemies will think twice before they attack our village again.”

  “What do you suppose Windhawk will do with Stalking Wolf?”

  Tag drew in a deep breath. “I don’t think you want to know. You should try to get some sleep.”

  “No, I am going to stay with you tonight. Are you in much pain?”

  “No, not much.”

  “I don’t think you are telling the truth.”

  His hand tightened on hers. “I heard about Fosset…I’m sorry, Joanna. He saved your life, you know.”

  Joanna held back her tears. “Yes, I know, and I shall miss him. He was the last thing I had to remind me of Father.”

  Tag grinned. “You have me, Joanna.”

  She smiled. “Yes, thank God, I have you!”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The next day many scaffolds were erected for the Blackfoot dead. Once again the death chant rolled across the valley.

  Windhawk walked among his people, giving comfort where he could. It had been many years since the Bloods had engaged the Assiniboin in warfare, and Windhawk paused to reflect on what he and Sitting Bull of the Sioux tribe had once talked about. Would it not be better for all Indian nations to band together to present a united front to their common enemy—the white man? In his heart, he knew this was right. It was not good for the Indian to fight against his own kind. For that matter, he thought it was not good for any man to take the life of another. He remembered the raid he had led on the Cree village. It had only brought retribution down upon the Bloods. Would the killing ever stop? he wondered sadly. Was man destined always to slay his brothers?

  Joanna changed Tag’s bandages and brought him a cool drink. “I will leave the water pitcher within your reach, in case you get thirsty. You should try to sleep. Remember, She Who Heals always said that sleep is the great healer.”

  “I don’t like to stay in bed,” Tag said, feeling his sister was treating him like a baby. “I feel well enough to get up.”

  “Nonsense! If you continue to improve, you can get up in a few days.”

  Windhawk swept into the lodge at that moment, and as always his eyes went to Joanna. So many things were left unsaid between them, he thought, but now wasn’t the time to express their feelings. There would be time enough to speak of what he must when the day of mourning was over.

  “Windhawk, will you tell Joanna that I am not a baby, and I can get up?”

  Windhawk smiled at the boy. “You are not a baby, Tag. I am very proud of what you did yesterday. Yours were the actions of a brave warrior, but…even a brave warrior must indulge his women. It would be best for you to do as your sister bids. Give your body time to heal and give Joanna time to realize you are a man.”

  Tag’s eyes gleamed at Windhawk’s words of praise. He gave Joanna an “I-told-you-so” look.

  �
�I am going to help Sun Woman tend the wounded,” Joanna said, walking to the opening. “Tag, I will expect to find you in bed when I return!”

  Both Windhawk and Tag watched Joanna depart silently. When she was gone, Windhawk sat down beside Tag and gave him a long, searching look. “I need to talk to you about what happened yesterday. I know about your getting the women and children safely away from the village. What I do not know about is why you and Joanna came back to the village after you were safely away?”

  “I myself do not know why Joanna returned. When I discovered she was missing, I rode back here to find her. That was when the enemy struck. We did not have time to get away…the rest you know.”

  “What would cause her to return to the village knowing the Assiniboin were coming?” Windhawk asked more to himself than to Tag. “What could have been so important that it would have caused her to risk her life to recover it?”

  “You will have to ask my sister that, Windhawk. I cannot tell you.”

  Windhawk stood up. “This will be a long day, Tag. We will bury our dead and repair the damage to the village. There would be many more dead had you not acted as you did. I am very proud of you!”

  Tag felt the warmth of Windhawk’s words. There was no one in the world whom he admired more than Windhawk. There was no one whose praise he treasured more than that of the chief of the Bloods.

  “I had no time to plan, Windhawk. I tried to think what you would have done in my place. I knew it would be better to send Farley to find you, because he is a far better tracker than I.”

  “I might not have had the good judgment to send the women and children to the northwest, as you did. Had the battle gone against us, our families could have made it safely to the Piegan village before the enemy could have overtaken them.”

  “I didn’t think of that. I thought only to put you and your warriors between us and the enemy.”

  Windhawk laughed. “So you did, Tag…so you did.”

  “May I enter?” Morning Song called from outside the lodge.

  “Enter, little sister,” Windhawk answered, smiling at Tag. “As I said, Tag, we have to indulge our women.”

  Windhawk noticed the worried frown on his sister’s face as she dropped to her knees and took Tag’s hand. “I have been so worried about you, Tag, but there were so many wounded to care for, and my mother said Joanna would watch over you. Are you in much pain?”

  Windhawk smiled to himself as he left the lodge. He had not expected Tag and Morning Song to love each other. He could think of no one he would rather give his sister to than Tag. He would have to remind them that they must wait until they were both older before they could walk as one. He wondered if Joanna knew about her brother and Morning Song. He would have to discuss it with her before long, he thought.

  “Are you sure you are not in pain, Tag?” Morning Song asked, touching his forehead to see if he was feverish.

  “I am well enough to be up, but Joanna treats me like a child, insisting I stay in bed.”

  “Joanna is wise, Tag. You must listen to her and do as she says.”

  He smiled and carried Morning Song’s hand to his lips. “I have no choice, have I.”

  Morning Song shyly ducked her head. It had been one thing to allow Tag to kiss her that night in the moonlight, but now it was day, and he could see her face.

  “Morning Song, look at me!”

  She raised her head and looked into his beautiful violet-blue eyes.

  “I love you, Morning Song. I think I have for a long time…but I just did not know it.” Tag watched as tears sparkled in her soft, brown eyes.

  “Oh, Tag, I too have loved you for a long time. I dared not hope you would love me in return.” She bent forward and touched her lips to his.

  Beautiful, young, innocent love had finally surfaced and been recognized by Tag and Morning Song.

  It was three days after the raid, and slowly the Blackfoot began to recover from its effects. The dead had been placed to rest, and the burned-out tipis were being replaced.

  As the sun began to set, the council fires were lit, and the warriors began to gather around to see what their chief would do with the two prisoners. Many women whose men had been killed in the battle sat in the shadows, waiting to see what punishment their enemies would receive. Joanna was not among those women. She could not bring herself to watch what she knew would be a gruesome spectacle.

  Windhawk held his hand up for silence. Immediately, the murmuring stopped, and all eyes went to their chief.

  “Bring the captives forward!” he ordered.

  Several warriors led the captives out of the tipi where they had been held. They were quickly tied to a stake to await Windhawk’s judgment.

  River Walker, the chief of the Assiniboin, looked, at the Blackfoot with scorn and contempt. There was no fear in his eyes as he waited to hear how he would die. This wasn’t true of Stalking Wolf, however. His eyes held fear, and he cringed inside every time Windhawk turned his dark gaze on him.

  “River Walker, Chief of the Assiniboin. The Blackfoot despise you as their enemy, but we respect you as a brave warrior. You will be given the chance to die as only a warrior of courage can. Perhaps you will even live,” Windhawk said, raising his voice so all could hear what he had to say.

  River Walker looked at Windhawk. “Will I then be allowed to die a warrior’s death?”

  “As I said, you may even live,” Windhawk told him. “The council has decided that in the morning, you shall be set free. You will be given a chance to die in the land of your fathers and your grandfathers.”

  “What does this mean?” River Walker asked. “I have never heard of a Blackfoot allowing an enemy to go free.”

  “You may wish many times that we had killed you, River Walker, for you will be set free in the wilderness without benefit of clothing, a horse, or food!”

  River Walker’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why would you give me the chance to live? I am your enemy—I have killed your warriors.”

  Windhawk’s face held a grim expression. “I allow you to live so you may tell all who hear your voice not to come to the village of the Blood Blackfoot. Tell our enemies that to do so is to die!”

  River Walker looked into Windhawk’s eyes. He felt a deep respect for the young chief. Surely all he had heard about Windhawk was true. Here was a man who was wise beyond his years. There was no doubt in his mind that Windhawk looked at life through the eyes of the great spirits!

  “Windhawk is a warrior to be feared, and a man to be respected. I stand ready to receive the punishment of the wise and noble chief of the Blackfoot,” River Walker said, in admiration of the young chief’s mercy.

  Windhawk’s eyes moved to Stalking Wolf. “You, Stalking Wolf, will not receive the death of a brave warrior. I charge you with being a coward!”

  “I did not lead the raid on your village, Mighty Chief of the Blackfoot!” Stalking Wolf cried out in fear. “Allow me to go free with River Walker!”

  “No!” Windhawk said. “You have proven yourself unworthy to be called a warrior.”

  Stalking Wolf cringed visibly. “If you will not allow me to go free, then allow me to die at the hands of one of your warriors.”

  Windhawk turned his face toward the group of Blackfoot warriors. “Is there one among you who will go against Stalking Wolf so he may die as a warrior?”

  There was only silence…no one stepped forward to accept the challenge.

  “You see how it is, Stalking Wolf. My warriors will not fight against a coward. I will give you to the women who have lost their husbands, fathers, and brothers in the raid. You will die at their hands,” Windhawk said.

  “Wait!” Stalking Wolf called out. “I will tell you why I came to raid your village. My father banished me from my tribe and told me I could not return until I avenged my brother’s death.”

  “Tell me, what did your father require of you?” Windhawk asked.

  Stalking Wolf couldn’t meet Windhawk’s eyes. “He as
ked that I slay you, then return the armband I wear to him. The armband was my brother’s.”

  “Why?”

  “To avenge my brother’s death.”

  “Did I kill your brother?”

  “No, I was responsible for his death. You raided our village and killed many of my people!”

  Windhawk walked over to Stalking Wolf and removed the armband from his arm. He recognized the armband as the one he had pulled from the ashes of She Who Heals’s burned-out tipi. “I will see that your father gets this back. He will also hear how you died. I will let it be known that you died at the hands of Blackfoot women!”

  “No!” Stalking Wolf cried out. “You cannot shame me before my father!”

  His pleas fell on deaf ears as Windhawk and his warriors left the council fires. Stalking Wolf screamed out in horror as the women advanced on him.

  Joanna had come out of the lodge and listened to Windhawk speak. She was impressed by his compassion for River Walker, and she couldn’t find it within her to feel sorry for Stalking Wolf. She turned away and reentered the tipi, not wanting to see the women revenge the death of their loved ones. A shudder wracked her body as she tried not to think about what was in store for the Cree warrior.

  She looked about Windhawk’s lodge, knowing Tag was well enough that he didn’t need a nurse any longer. She knew the time had come for her to return to Sun Woman’s tipi. With a heavy heart, she gathered up her belongings and placed them in a leather satchel.

  Windhawk had not slept in his lodge in the three nights Joanna had stayed with Tag. Perhaps he just didn’t want to be near her, she thought.

  She picked up Little Hawk and walked toward the opening. She heard an agonizing scream and knew the women had begun their torture on Stalking Wolf. She was undecided on whether to leave yet. Perhaps it would be best to wait until the women had finished with Stalking Wolf.

  She stepped back as the lodge flap was pushed aside and Windhawk entered.

  Seeing she carried her satchel, he sought her eyes. “Where are you going?”