White Dove

by Susan Edwards

  Golden Eagle’s features remained impassive. “I have changed my mind. My daughter will be allowed to follow her heart and choose her mate. I will not force her to marry if it is not her wish.” He turned to go back into his tipi.

  Waho stood in stunned disbelief. All his plans for the future crumbled. Without a doubt, Waho knew Dove would not willingly choose him. “You cannot go back on your word. You cannot refuse me. I have waited long for her,” Waho shouted.

  Golden Eagle sent him a pitying look then ducked back into his home, signaling that the matter was closed.

  Storming away, Waho ignored the knowing looks and low comments from his people, which told him that most had observed the white man’s victory over him in the old chief’s rejection of his suit. He mounted his warhorse and rode off. The white man would pay. As would the family of White Dove’s father.

  * * *

  Golden Eagle joined his wife. She glanced up at him. “You will tell her? Tonight?”

  Gathering her close, he pulled White Wind to him on their sleeping pallet. “Yes, I will tell her tonight and clear this anger between us.”

  She pillowed her head on his shoulder. “I am glad.” Her voice trailed off, her respiration slowed.

  Listening to his wife’s breathing, Golden Eagle ran his hand over her head, fingering the soft waves of hair spilling over his arm. Though it was just now growing truly dark, she’d fallen asleep early. She tired so easily these days.

  Gently, he settled her on the bed of furs and watched the soft rise and fall of her chest. What would he do without his White Wind? He nuzzled her temple. She slept deeply. Too deeply, he feared. Her health was failing. She tried to hide the weakness, tiredness and pain from him, but she could not. Tenderly, he smoothed her hair from her face.

  In his gut, he knew he would not have her for long. His heart thumped heavily in his chest and his eyes smarted as he stared out the top of the smoke hole at the emerging stars. It was for his life mate that he’d decided to allow Dove to follow her own path. The tension between father and daughter was not good for her.

  Still, in truth, he felt lighter of heart. He’d lost a part of his life when Dove stopped talking to him. And her refusal to hunt with him had hurt deeply. Pride and anger had kept him from making amends before now.

  Fear of the future—hers—had driven him to taking such a harsh stand with his youngest child. Was it wrong for this father to wish to see each of his children settled and happy? With his own failing health, and that of White Wind, the overwhelming desire to know that his children were settled and taken care of buffeted him like the hot prairie winds sweeping across the land.

  Settling himself to await his daughter’s return, he recalled the look of awe on Dove’s face when Jeremy had presented the horse to her. Would she follow her heart? His smile disappeared. Or would she continue to reject all men in her search for the perfect warrior? Where had he gone wrong with his youngest? Had he been too indulgent? Her goals and expectations for a mate had become more and more unrealistic, leaving him no choice but to intervene.

  He’d hoped that if she thought he’d choose Waho for her mate, she’d actively seek a husband and give him peace of mind. He should have known Dove would follow her own path. His interference had only served to make her more stubborn and resistant to taking a mate—and the coup of killing a bear had made her seem unattainable to most of the men in their tribe. No warrior wanted as mate a wife who made no secret of her own skill, indeed, who seemed to delight in proving she was as good, if not better, than they.

  Pride filled him. It took courage and skill to kill a bear. Dove had both. She’d proven herself, and after hearing Waho speak of ruling over her, Golden Eagle knew he could not force White Dove to take a mate just for his own peace of mind. She deserved a husband who would love her for the brave woman she’d become.

  He’d never thought much about her desire for a “great warrior.” Most of the men in their tribe and in the surrounding tribes were great in their own way. Some more than others, and many perfectly acceptable as a mate to Dove.

  But as she’d grown into womanhood, her quest had grown, her expectations became impossible to fill, frustrating not only him as her father, but driving away many good men who couldn’t compete with her preconceived image of her mate. Did she not realize there was more to being a warrior than the skill to hunt or fight?

  Sighing, he snuggled his wife close and waited for Dove to return. It was time to end the bitterness and anger between himself and his daughter, as much for his own heart as his wife’s.

  * * *

  Dove glanced behind her and wasn’t surprised to see several women following. She recognized Miniyata and two other elders. To her chagrin, she was well supervised. She would have liked to have been alone with Jeremy.

  She stared at his back as he silently rode, leading her horse around the village. He sat tall, proud, with a hint of male arrogance in his posture. She smiled and decided she couldn’t fault him when she noticed the admiring looks of the young women, and found she too had drawn herself up proudly. Since coming to their tribe, Jeremy had become the topic of more than one gossiping female.

  And who could blame them? His thick, dark, wavy hair hung unbound past his shoulders, streaming out behind him in the gentle breeze, brushing against his bare back. Over his left ear, he’d tied a feather to a strand of hair. It lifted and fluttered gently as they rode. Wearing only a breechclout, he looked little different than any of the other warriors. Yet to her, he was very different, for the truth could not be denied: he’d claimed her heart.

  He slowed, and when she came abreast of him, their bare legs touched. She eyed him, wishing she dared hop onto his horse. She wanted to sit behind him, wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his neck so that she might cling to his warmth. Or, she could sit before him and let him hold her nestled against his chest with her head pillowed in the hollow of his neck. Embarrassed, she glanced away. No one had ever warned her of the dangers of her own body’s desire. Right now, she didn’t even care who looked on. She wanted Jeremy, needed him to touch her.

  “Dove? Is something wrong?”

  “Uh, no. What makes you think something is wrong?” Had she given herself away?

  “I asked if you liked the mare.”

  Dove bent her head and stroked her new mare’s neck. Turning her head slightly to the side, she smiled in pleasure. “She is beautiful.” And she was. Her markings were distinct, her gait smooth and her manner one of calm intelligence.

  “She is to be my wedding gift to you.”

  Dove’s heart pounded. “I have not agreed to marry you.” Would he ask her again tonight? Sitting tall, she relaxed her shoulders and waited with bated breath. Did she want him to ask again? Though her heart screamed yes, her mind still had doubts. He’d been granted a vision. He was a Dreamer. Only warriors worthy of the gift were granted visions. Did that mean he was the one of whom her grandmother had spoken? She’d said that the man she married would follow his heart. Hadn’t Jeremy done just that in coming to live with her people?

  Jeremy nodded seriously. “No. You haven’t.” He fell silent, then continued onward.

  Deflated that he hadn’t asked her again to marry him, and relieved that she didn’t have to make a choice just yet, she glanced at him. She’d have expected him to push her for an answer. He had to know that she did want him. “Why do you not seek my answer?”

  Jeremy stopped the horse
s outside the ring of tipis, dismounted and grabbed a rolled-up blanket from in front of him, and came to her. He held up his hand and waited.

  Swallowing, eager yet nervous, Dove allowed him to help her down. He pulled her close, his breath warming her cheek.

  He spoke in Lakota: “I do not seek an answer this night. I wait until I have become a warrior. At the Sun Dance you will give me your answer. If you still do not wish to marry me, I will not ask again.”

  Surprised, Dove frowned. “I don’t understand. You have already asked me to join with you. Why do you now want to wait?” His hesitation to take what he’d pushed so hard for surprised her. Not long ago, he’d have jumped at her slight weakening. Now he waited.

  Jeremy handed the mare’s reins over to his Sioux mother, then led Dove and his horse away until they were in the deep shadows a short distance from the opening of the tipi circle yet still within sight of their chaperones. She held her breath when he nudged her to the far side of the horse where they were shielded from the watchful eyes of the women.

  In Sioux custom, he draped his blanket over their heads. The air filled with his scent. In the dark, she couldn’t see him, only feel the brush of his hands as they found her face and cupped her jaw. Somehow it seemed so much more sensual than when he’d touched her during the day. Her senses sharpened. She didn’t need sight to see him; she used touch. With each breath she drew in, she smelled his scent and tasted him. She heard his every breath, and when he pulled her against him, she heard his heart beating.

  He nibbled on her earlobe. “I will come to you not only as a warrior who loves you, but as a man who can provide for you and protect you. As you are able to do for me, I shall do for you. When we marry, we will be as one. I will walk at your side, and you will walk by mine.”

  Dove yearned to tell him it no longer mattered but deep in her heart, she knew it did. She wanted what he promised. Wanted him to walk at her side. Needed to walk at his. Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers tunneling through the thick curls. Her head tipped to one side to allow his lips to travel along her jaw. She opened her mouth but his kiss stopped her from replying.

  “When you agree to marry me, you will have no doubts.” He took a moment to caress her mouth with his tongue. “You will trust me and believe in me.”

  “I do,” she said, sighing, her body going limp against his.

  “Do you? Really?” His fingers slid up the side of her face and pulled her away. “Do you believe that I will stay? Forever?”

  Though Dove could not see him, she knew her hesitation gave him his answer.

  “You still do not trust me.” His voice held a hint of sadness.

  Reaching up in the dark to touch him, to hold him, Dove lowered her head onto his shoulder. “I want to believe,” she whispered. She loved him, and wanted him, but part of her still feared the future. Sure, he had adapted well so far to the lifestyle of her people, but how long would that last? How long before he longed again for the things he knew? She didn’t think she could survive loving Jeremy, having him for a brief time just to lose him.

  “Well, if you don’t, then the time is not right.” His fingers traveled through her hair. “What is it that makes you so sure that I’ll leave you?” He bent his head and kissed her along the side of her neck, inching up to the sensitive area just below her ear.

  Her head tipped back in delight. “You’ll want to go back.”

  “Not without you.” His teeth tugged at her earlobe.

  She sucked in her breath and moved her fingers across his scalp. “I’ll never leave.”

  “Then I will stay. Where you go, I will follow.” His tongue snaked a path from her throat up along her jaw.

  “Until times get hard.” She pulled back. “This is not all there is to our life. Right now you only train with our warriors. We war with other tribes. There will be fights where if you do not kill, you will be killed. And what if we enter a conflict with other white men? Can you be as one with our people? Can you fight white soldiers with us? Can you kill those who would slaughter us?”

  Jeremy ran his hands down her arms. “I will kill anyone who tries to harm you. That I promise.”

  The depth of feeling in his voice warmed her, yet Dove knew it was easier to speak words than to live them. “I want to believe you. I want you to stay.” That was as much of a commitment as she could give. She felt his smile against her lips when he pulled her back against him.

  “As long as there is hope, I will continue to court you.” He took her mouth with his, then pulled back. “Now, is talking all we are allowed to do beneath this blanket?”

  Needing him so much it hurt, Dove lifted her hands up and drew his face back down to hers. “You talk too much, White Man. Kiss me.”

  He did. Gently, tenderly—then with more passion. All too soon, he pulled away and drew off the blanket from their heads.

  Dove felt her heart dive to her toes. “You don’t want to kiss me anymore?” She hungered for him, needed something that he hadn’t yet given.

  “More than anything.” Turning, he took her in his hands and lifted her up onto the back of his horse.

  “I don’t understand.”

  He mounted behind her and drew her close. “I want more than kisses from you, Dove. Much, much more.”

  Secure in his arms and in his love, Dove closed her eyes as he stroked his fingers down one cheek and along her jaw.

  “Who am I, Dove?”

  She turned to look at him. “You are—”

  “Not who I am in relation to others, but as a man. What do you see when you look at me?”

  Dove stared up at the stars, reflecting upon his question. “I see a man who isn’t afraid to leave all he knows to learn a new way of life. I see a man who is gentle, who gives the gift of music to a boy who is special. I see a man who takes responsibility for his actions.”

  Wrapping his arms around her, Jeremy smiled against the side of her face. “That’s a start. When you see me as a man who not only loves you but will never leave you, then it will be the right time for you to marry me.”

  He guided the horse back to her parents’ tipi. Dismounting, he lifted her off the beast, letting her body slide down the front of his own, his grin wicked. He knew what his touch did to her. Clinging to his shoulders, she made sure her lower body pressed against him intimately for a brief moment. He groaned. “Minx. Go, before I forget my good intentions.”

  She stepped away, and with her heart feeling as weak as her legs, White Dove watched him lead his horse away with her emotions in turmoil. Behind her, the flap opened, and her father stepped out. “The stars are wakan. Tonight there are many. They spin in the dance circle.”

  “They are beautiful.” Dove’s voice choked. She didn’t want to be angry with her father anymore. It didn’t seem right, not when her heart was so full of love. But he was set upon forcing her to wed against her will. How could she just accept that—even if she did now have someone whom she cared about very much?

  Golden Eagle walked around and took his daughter’s face between his large hands. “No, daughter, it is you who are beautiful. The stars shine in your eyes. You are so much like your mother.” He put his arm around her shoulder.

  “It is time to end this anger between us. Let’s walk.”

  They strolled down to the river. Dove felt warm and secure in his arms once more. Tears blurred her vision. Until now, she hadn’t realized the depth with which she missed her father. When he stopped and indicated that she
should sit, she obeyed. He sat beside her, the night’s silence broken only by sounds of animals, the occasional crackling of the fire, or a call from the camp. Dove knew he was gathering his thoughts, taking time to choose his words. It was the custom of her people, a custom she tended to forget more often than she wished. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on fisted hands. The silvery light of the moon and stars danced on the rough surface of the water.

  “You must follow your heart, my daughter. I will not force you to marry.”

  Dove turned to look at him. She hardly dared to breathe. “Do you mean that?”

  Golden Eagle sighed. “I am old. I only wished to see you settled before I die. I did not mean to make you unhappy, to drive you from me.”

  With a muffled cry, Dove threw herself into her father’s arms. “I have missed you, my father!”

  Golden Eagle held her tightly, as if she were a child visited by bad spirits during the night. Finally he set her from him but didn’t release her. He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Listen to your heart; look with it. Many times what we seek is right before us, but we are blind to the truth. Do not be blind.”

  “You speak of the white man,” Dove said. Would her father tell her that Jeremy was the man she should marry? Did she want him to tell her it was so?

  “I speak of your heart. Where does it lie?”

  She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “My heart would choose Jeremy this night. I love him, he holds my heart. But my mind is confused. True, he has bested some of our men, but he is not a great warrior. Unci’s visions have never failed to come true. What if I listen to my heart and not to what spirits say?”

  Golden Eagle tipped up her chin. “Tell me, daughter, what qualities make a great warrior?”

  Dove frowned and thought. “A great warrior is brave, cunning, fearless.”