White Dove

by Susan Edwards

  Emma and Jessie filled her in while White Wind smiled at the look of pleasant surprise in Sofia’s eyes.

  “This is perfect,” she said, her brown eyes full of amusement.

  White Wind waved the two younger women off. “Go and report back to us what is said. Sofia and I shall stay here and tend the babies.” She frowned, then cautioned, “But do not interfere.” She knew full well, however, that Jessie would not heed her words; she and her brother were much alike in that way.

  White Wind waited until Jeremy’s sister and Emma had left. “My youngest daughter needs someone who will challenge her, accept her need to compete and better herself, and not confine her to a life where she will grow stale as a pond with no fresh water to be had. I’m afraid our warriors do not understand her. She is a free spirit. Most seek to capture her as one does the rare white buffalo. They hunger to end the hunt and suppress the challenge to their manhood. They do not consider the rareness of the prize or what she offers. I cannot bear to see her spirit broken.”

  Sofia rocked, careful to be sure no baby’s little fingers were too close. “The boy feels that he has failed. He has no life of his own and needs to leave this place in order to become his own person. Though he is loved by his sister, she still sees him as a boy who needs to be watched and kept out of trouble. He longs for adventure but doesn’t know where to find it,” Sofia continued. “Dove has refused to have anything to do with him. She will not accept him even if he should learn to become a warrior.”

  White Wind smiled. “Sparks from a fire must be nurtured, sheltered from the harsh winds, fed dry leaves and twigs in small amounts until they burst into flames.” How she wanted Dove to marry for love, and though her daughter denied feeling anything toward Jeremy, a mother always knows what is in her daughter’s heart. Dove and Jeremy would surely be a love match.

  The twins clamored onto Sofia’s ample lap and cuddled close, one on either side of her. Sarah stuck her thumb in her mouth. Sam sucked on two of his fingers. “I told Rook he should not interfere. No matchmaking.” Her grin turned sly. “But I didn’t promise not to.”

  * * *

  That night, seated around a large fire, Jeremy got his first taste of a true Indian ceremony. The men had stripped down to just breechclouts and paint. They danced and chanted and sang to the strong heat of drums, which vibrated deep within him.

  He sat cross-legged with White Dove’s family. After the warriors were done recounting their fight with the Arikara, he stood and joined the children, Wolf and Jessie. It was the children’s turn to show what they’d learned. In the way of their people, they put on a show that was part acting, part song. But instead of drums, he and Jessie and Makes Music provided the music with their mouth organs.

  When the little boy played his own creation—something he called “Teacher”, a clever tune in which he repeated strings of notes—Jeremy grinned with pride. All the children had done well, but he was especially proud of this boy.

  When they were done, Jeremy sat back down. To his consternation, Wolf stood and told all of Dove’s courage and her victory over the bear. He felt eyes on him, and wished he’d slunk away. It had been bad enough before knowing that everyone knew, but hearing it retold with everyone glancing between him and her made it worse.

  When Wolf was done, the old shaman joined him and called Dove forward. Jeremy held his breath. He’d never seen her look so beautiful. Tonight she wore a buttery-yellow dress with intricate beadwork. Her moccasins were also gaily colored, and her hair hung loose down her back with several feathers clustered around her right ear.

  Though the cost to his pride was great, Jeremy felt proud of her. When it came right down to it, she’d saved his life. She deserved this. The shaman spoke loudly.

  Emma shifted closer. “I’m still learning, but I’ll try to translate.”

  “Ninape makipazo wo.”

  “Show me your hands.”

  Dove held out her hands to the shaman. He tied a bracelet made of bear claws and bits of carved wood around each wrist. Then he put another necklace around her neck. This one was made of the teeth of the bear. All the while he chanted.

  “He says she has earned the right to wear the claw and teeth of the bear. She is to remember the strength of the animal, and how she fights to death to protect her own.” Emma paused to wipe tears of happiness from her eyes. “He is telling her that the spirit of the bear now resides in her and will guide her.”

  The shaman turned in a circle, bent down and pulled up the bear hide with the head still attached. Jeremy didn’t know where it had come from. He knew it wasn’t from the bear Dove had killed. He’d seen the hide out drying—minus its head.

  To Jeremy’s shock, the shaman called him up. He turned to Emma, then glanced at Striking Thunder to be sure he understood. Both motioned for him to go. He went and stood next to Dove who looked just as surprised.

  The old man chanted, waved his arms and went on for a while. But this time, Jeremy had no idea what was said. He didn’t have Emma to translate. When the shaman gave Dove a pointed look, she translated, her eyes wide from whatever it was he’d said.

  “He calls you up before all to speak of your bravery in facing Mato.”

  “Me? I didn’t—”

  Dove continued. “You didn’t run. You could have saved yourself had you run and left Makes Music behind. Though you weren’t prepared, he says you proved you were willing to die to protect the child.”

  She indicated his unbound wound and, before all, indicated the angry red furrows. “You bear the scars of Mato. Therefore you have the right to wear the skin of her during our ceremonies.”

  Jeremy stood still while the hide was tossed over his head. It felt rather creepy to have the bear’s head on top of his, but he stood still. And proud, though he wasn’t sure he truly deserved this. Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “Do I get a new name?”

  Dove bit her lip but asked. The shaman glanced at Jeremy, then said something to all.

  Jeremy heard the same name being repeated and knew before Dove turned to him he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. “Well?”

  “He says like Mato, you, too, were protecting a child. He says your name will remain Hunkuya Mato.”

  Together they went back to sit. Shortly after, all the young Lakota girls stood to dance. He already knew from Jessie and Emma that tonight, girls would choose the man they wished to speak to later, and dance in front of him, letting him know that they were receptive to being courted. His heart raced when Dove stood. But she did not take her place among the dancers. Instead, she went to sit with friends. Though disappointed, he didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. As soon as the drums and chanting started, a rush of girls ran to stand before him. Startled, he realized he had half of the dancers vying to get close to him. Too bad the one he truly wanted wasn’t among them.

  Chapter Six

  Strong gusts of a cold northerly wind sent gray clouds rumbling across the dawn, a reminder that winter had not left them entirely behind. It whipped through trees and whirled across the land, tearing fragile blooms from bent-over stems, flattening the new grass and blowing tender leaves through the air, behaving much like a child throwing a tantrum, as if needing to leave its mark upon the land before calmer weather arrived to keep it at bay.

  Shivering against the bite in the air, Dove knew this was a sign that the coming months would be just as stormy and unpleasant. She shifted restlessly. With one soft nudge, Psay would surge forward and they’d ride as one with the wind at her back. Unfortunately, running from the storm wouldn’t do her any good. The storm she feared, spawned by her father, Waho and Jeremy, centered deep inside her and no amount of running would leave it behind.

  Across the yard, Jeremy worked side by side with Wolf and Rook to attach a travois to a horse. A handful of children were gathered close by to watch the loading
of the cubs. Dove had assumed the young bears would stay, that Rook or Jessie would care for them, but once again Jeremy had proven her wrong. He might not have wanted their care in the beginning, but now that he had a perfect excuse to leave them, he’d stuck to his responsibility. No doubt he’d have many helpers within her tribe, though. They were fascinated with the babies—and with Jeremy—especially the older girls who had not spent the winter here.

  Dove rolled her eyes when two girls of fourteen winters found an excuse to touch his arm. And when a small child of five pulled on his pant leg, he picked her up so she could see over the growing crowd. Jeremy held her close to the wooden cage so she could reach in and touch one of the cubs, who licked her hand.

  “He’s very good with the children.”

  Dove glanced over at Emma, her brother’s wife. She wore a robe around her shoulders, and hanging off the side of the horse, her infant son slept peacefully in his cradle board.

  Drawn back to where Jeremy worked, Dove nodded. “He is.” Laughter flowed on the wind. Smiles and nods of approval were sent Jeremy’s way. Another chink formed in the armor around her heart. She’d never seen a man so good, so patient with children—and the two orphaned bear cubs that would someday grow to be powerful and revered animals.

  It had taken her people but a few days to come to the realization that the spirits had chosen Jeremy to raise the cubs. Who was to say that Wakan Tanka hadn’t planned this? The cubs belonged to the white man who was to become one of them; therefore, the cubs belonged to them all. The spirit of Mato lived among them, and would watch over their tribe. Unbeknownst to Jeremy, he’d earned a good deal of respect from her people.

  “How quickly things change.” Startled, she realized she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

  Emma smiled at Dove. “Sometimes, sister, change is good.” She reached over to clasp her sister-in-law’s hand. “Keep an open mind and heart. You never know what the future holds. Look at me; when I first came here I was afraid.”

  Dove snorted. “You should have been. You were my brother’s captive.”

  “Yes. I thought you all were savages, not much more than animals. But when I looked with my heart, I saw beauty and kindness. And I found love. Don’t close your heart, Dove. Perhaps Jeremy is the one who will fulfill your dreams.”

  “His name is Hunkuya Mato.” Her scornful thoughts were given voice, but in her heart, she knew she couldn’t hold that against him. What had started out as a derisive name, given to shame him, had changed to one of respect. Of course, Jeremy had been aided by the shaman’s announcement that he had earned the right to wear the head of the bear.

  Emma nudged her. “I hope there isn’t going to be any trouble. Waho doesn’t look happy.”

  Dove followed her gaze to where Waho conversed with several warriors who were all watching Jeremy. Waho looked furious. Dove’s day brightened. She fingered her necklace of bear teeth. Also, because she, too, wore the mark of Mato around her wrists and neck, many of her people thought she and Jeremy were meant to be. Even the warriors who’d just last summer tried to court her had bowed out, believing she belonged to the white man—all except Waho. She grimaced. Too bad he still hadn’t gotten the message.

  “Waho is never happy.”

  “Do you think he’ll try to cause trouble?”

  A humorless laugh escaped Dove. “Does he do anything but cause trouble?”

  Emma looked worried. “This is different, Dove. He’s really upset.”

  Dove thought back to the warrior’s threats. Would he really harm Jeremy or challenge him? As quickly as the worrisome thought hit, it faded. “Waho talks big, but his actions are those of a coward.” Unlike Jeremy. Whatever else she might accuse him of being, he wasn’t a coward. She remembered all too well how he’d tried to save Makes Music by trying to kill the bear with his defective arrows. Not smart, but not cowardly.

  Emma sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

  Silence fell between them as Emma’s baby started to fuss. While his mother leaned down to reassure him, Dove shifted her gaze back to the man who crept into her thoughts more than she’d admit—or liked. Her eyes lingered on his lean, handsome body. She watched him run his hands down his horse’s sides and scratch the mare between her ears. A shiver ran through her at his gentleness.

  At a word from Wolf, the children scattered. The two cubs, crying at being confined, stood on their hind legs. Jeremy stuck his arm into a wooden cage lashed to the travois and calmed the bears. With help from Wolf, they covered the cage with an old woolen army blanket and lashed it securely. The cubs—and their master—were ready to journey to their new home.

  How was she to find the warrior of her heart with him around to distract her?

  For he would distract her. The two kisses they’d shared warned of the danger of being near him. The hunger gnawing deep inside her grew each time she glanced at him, and her heart refused to harden. If that weren’t enough, some jealous beast had begun to rage as the younger maidens continued to hang around him. White Dove sighed. For the first time in her life, her heart sought to rule her mind.

  Her dark contemplations were cut short when Striking Thunder rode over to her and Emma. He gave her a considering look. “You will treat him as you would any warrior.”

  For the first time in days, Dove laughed. “And how do I treat the warriors of my tribe, my brother, my chief?” She didn’t wait for his answer. His dark glare told her he recognized his poor choice of words, for though she treated all warriors with the respect due to them, it was a well-known fact that most of them feared her sharp tongue. Those bold enough to challenge or try to master her learned quickly that the daughter of Golden Eagle could take care of herself.

  Striking Thunder tugged hard on one braid. “My sister knows what I am asking of her.”

  Pulling back, Dove narrowed her eyes. “You are asking me to expect less from him than the other warriors brave enough to try to win me to wife? Would my chief and brother expect me to settle for less than the best? Did our grandmother not say I would marry a powerful warrior?” She threw one question after another at him.

  Striking Thunder let out a long, heavy sigh. “All this brother, and chief, asks is that you give the white man a chance. You do not know what is ahead. Perhaps he is your ‘great warrior.’”

  Dove giggled. Even Emma looked doubtful. “You do not look so sure, my brother.”

  Striking Thunder frowned. “No. I only know he is willing to risk much to prove himself to you. He has even accepted the name the children gave him.”

  “Does Hunkuya Mato not mean ‘their mother’? Why should he not accept the name?” Perversely, it amused Dove to know he hated the name. He, like most warriors, did not want to be associated with the word mother.

  Striking Thunder shook his head. “Be careful, my sister. One day you will meet your match.” He paused. “When will you speak to our father?”

  All humor fled from Dove. “I spoke to him yesterday. He still refuses to listen to his daughter. When he is ready to listen, this daughter will speak.”

  “It is not good for family to hold anger inside. Our father grows old. He worries and loves you. He only wishes to do what is right.”

  Dove twisted the mane of her horse around her hand. “I will speak when he will listen,” she repeated.

  Shaking his head, Striking Thunder led his wife and son away, leaving her alone in her silent contemplations. She watched as he went, then her gaze swept the assembled group.

  Striking Thunder left Emma with their mother and father and rode ahead to join a band of warriors. Together, the group rode away; their job was to go ahead and make sure the way to be traveled was safe, to find places to stop to rest and camp for the night. Other warriors took up the lead of the group, bows slung over shoulders, quivers filled with arrows, lances and shields held ready. Husbands who were n
ot part of the scouting party, or riding in the lead, stayed with their families.

  Normally, when moving from one campsite to another, most walked. It was a time to chat, gossip and appreciate the land from which they received life. But with the weather promising a drenching rain, Striking Thunder had decided they would ride to make haste.

  The men took their place in front of their women; not to show they were the masters but to put themselves in the first line of danger. For the same reason—protection—men walked or rode unhampered save their weapons, while the women carried children or belongings. A man’s hands had to be free to defend.

  As the tribe headed out, Dove’s restless gaze settled on Jeremy. Gone was the often aggravating and usually infuriating young man trying hard to impress her. This man working hard to secure his belongings, this new Jeremy Jones, looked determined, filled with purpose.

  Stubborn suited him better. That word made him less likeable in her mind. He’d refused to listen to reason. Ever since learning of his crazy scheme, she’d ignored him, tried to discourage him, but nothing worked. Absently running her fingers through her horse’s long mane, she hated to admit she missed his company, their easy banter as they snipped at each other while doing their chores. When it came to words, they were evenly matched.

  “The white man thinks to win you to wife.”

  Startled from her thoughts, Dove whirled her mount around to face Waho, who’d ridden up behind her. His persistence annoyed her, as did his attitude. “He is free to prove himself, as is any other warrior.”

  Scorn dripped from Waho’s voice. “You would be wise to stop him from coming. He will not take you from me.”

  “I will marry whom I please.” Dove edged away, her dislike growing.

  Waho patted his sheathed knife. “If you want him to live, make the wise choice.” With that threat, he rode away.

  Open-mouthed, Dove watched the brave as he jabbed his lance high. His voice lifted in a yell of triumph. Anyone watching would assume she’d said or done something to make him happy. She clenched and unclenched her hand. Choose wisely. A distant rumble warned of approaching thunder, and cold wind brought a chill to her soul. Waho’s threat had implied harm would come to Jeremy if she chose the white man for her mate. The very idea nearly made her laugh. There was no bigger coward in their tribe than Waho. He would not dare to hurt a member of Wolf’s family. Would he?