White Dove

by Susan Edwards

  “Are you ready?” He held out his hand to her.

  She nodded. Fear of dying fled as she reached out to take his hand. The wind blew gently over her, and her hair came loose from the braids to stream out golden behind her.

  All her pain and aches fled. She felt young again. Wrapped in her husband’s loving arms, she allowed him to lead her to their new home in the spirit world. She glanced over her shoulder, saw her aged and worn body sitting still and peaceful, forever asleep.

  She heard Star call her name. Jessie reached over to touch her shoulder. Dove left the two girls she now was mother to and knelt at her mother’s feet.

  Together, she and Golden Eagle watched their children. Dove turned her head, as if she could see them. She spoke, her voice sad. “Her life has come full circle. She is with our father. They are together. Forever. As it should be.”

  White Wind smiled, relieved. She’d feared what dying might do to her youngest, but the girl had understood that it was all part of the cycle of life.

  “She will be fine,” Golden Eagle said beside her.

  “Yes, they will all be fine. They have each found happiness.”

  White Wind glanced up at her husband. “I love you, my golden warrior.”

  “As I love you, my wife.” Together, they walked away from their children, confident in the knowledge that they’d given their offspring the greatest gift of all.

  Love.

  Epilogue

  Canwapegi wi: Moon in which the leaves turn brown.

  Owl flew over the land. Below her, thousands of tipis dotted the prairie as the Sioux gathered in large groups to celebrate the end of another successful buffalo hunt. Mingled together, the seven divisions of the Teton Sioux came together.

  The tribes, some in large groups of many hundred, and others much smaller, filled the land as far as the eye could see. It was a time for families and friends to come together and see one another.

  In a few short days, each tribe would once again go its own way, but for this small bit of time, the Sioux Nation ruled the land. The sight never failed to thrill Owl. They were strong, the Sioux, but she knew time would dwindle their numbers. She soared over the camps. Down by the river, she spotted two bears catching fish. The cubs had left Hunkuya Mato, and no longer came to visit him among the People. She kept going. Smoke from the many fires hung heavy in the air, but carried with it wonderful aromas. After days of council meetings, meetings of the great chiefs, the day of the Sun Dance had arrived.

  Trees were chosen, and where there were no trees, poles had been erected for the ceremony. Owl found the Miniconjou tribe. The Hunkpapa were nearby, as the two tribes had family and ties that went way back. Soaring down, she perched on the limb of a tree. Below her, tethered to a high branch, was the white man. She stared at him. His eyes were closed, his arms held out to the side, and his face was wreathed in pain. Blood ran down both sides of his chest, around a wooden carving of an owl, from two gashes where his muscle had been pierced.

  She glanced up at Wi. He is brave.

  Wi shone a bit brighter.

  She gave a soft call. The white man opened his eyes and saw her. For a long moment they just stared at one another. Then he threw his head back, and pulled. One bone tore free, leaving his weight suspended by the other. She blinked. He will bear this, she thought. A year ago, she’d not have believed that he could have endured the hours of pain the Sun Dance demanded. That he’d decided to have both sides of his breast pierced meant that he’d truly become a great warrior. She flew off. Her work here was done.

  * * *

  From the crowd, Dove watched the retreat of the owl—her husband’s talisman. Then her gaze went back to the man she loved with all her heart. It was painful to observe, and she’d jumped a bit when one leather thong had pulled free. It wouldn’t take long now—at least she hoped it wouldn’t. She felt his pain, and it hurt her to know he was hurting. The whistle he blew conveyed the degree, and right now, it was shrill, each note slicing through her.

  She didn’t have to stay, but if Hunkuya Mato could go through it for her, she would stay and pray and show her love and support. He’d earned it. Cuddling her newborn daughter, Spotted Owl, close, White Dove prayed his pain would soon be over. At her side, Beth Ann looked worried. “Do not worry, daughter,” she said. “He is brave. It will be over soon.”

  “I don’t like this,” the little girl said.

  “I know,” she said softly. Beth Ann had not adjusted easily, and it was out of consideration for her that Jeremy had not participated in last year’s Sun Dance. He’d told her she didn’t have to watch—it wasn’t an easy thing to watch someone you loved suffering—but the girl had refused to leave.

  “You are brave to remain here with him,” Dove told the child. Spotted Owl squirmed in her arms.

  “He’s my father.”

  And that said it all. Jeremy had tried to locate the girls’ family, but Beth Ann had refused to tell Jeremy where her grandfather lived, stating that he’d disowned her mother. She wanted to stay with her new mother and father and her new friends.

  “When will it be over?” Beth Ann whispered, her voice choked by fear.

  “Soon.” Dove focused her energy on her husband. She was proud of him. He’d become the warrior of her heart, and there was no greater warrior than that, regardless of the many honors he’d won with the Sioux.

  “Dove?” Beth Ann glanced up, her blue eyes dark with worry. “He’s not going to die, is he?” Tears trickled down her cheeks.

  Pain for her young, troubled daughter left Dove’s mouth dry and her heart aching. In the weeks and months following Beth Ann’s arrival, the girl had worried herself sick that either Dove or Jeremy would leave and not return. And many times during their moves from one camp site to another, the sight of another tribe nearly sent her into hysterics.

  Dove reached out to stroke a stray strand of honey-blond hair from her daughter’s face. “Your father will not die. Soon, the ceremony will be over. He is proving to us that he is a brave warrior. There is no danger.”

  Beth Ann glanced back at her father. “People die. What will happen to me and Jane if he dies? Or you?” Her piercing blue eyes caught Dove.

  Her own eyes tearing, Dove pulled Beth Ann into the circle of her arm. “You have family here. My brothers, my sister. Your grandparents. They are all your family. You will never be alone. Never.” Dove wished she could ease the pain of what the child had gone through but knew it would just take time. That and constant reassurance.

  “Each of us will die when it is our time. It is the way of life. Without death, there can be no birth.”

  “That circle thing,” Beth Ann said, crossing her arms in front of her.

  “Yes. Life is a circle. Like the seasons. Each is important, and you can’t have one without the others.”

  “I wish it were summer all the time. I hate the dark and cold.”

  Dove chuckled. “But we need the winter, too. It is a time for slumber, preparing for rebirth. It is after the snows that the world is reborn. We need dark and the cold to have the flowers and the warmth, so that we can appreciate them. And if there was no winter, there would be no young bears.”

  “Like Cikala and Cuweku! I know. I just don’t like it. And I don’t like this.”

  “Your father will be very proud of you.” Dove stood, her hand on Beth Ann’s shoulder.

  The child leaned against her. “Do you still miss your mother and father?”

  Blinking past the tears, Dove didn’t t
ry to hide her emotions. “Every day, cante skuya. Every day. But they are together and I know that is what they would have wanted.”

  “Do you think my real mom and pop are together like your parents?” The girl’s voice hitched. “They aren’t Sioux.”

  Tipping her daughter’s chin up, Dove smiled,

  “Your mother and father are together, just like mine. And I know they are happy and are just as proud of you as I am.” Beth Ann grinned and relaxed. The sound of a mouth organ made mother and daughter glance to the right as Makes Music joined them. He had come to play for Jeremy, whom the boy still adored.

  After another hour, Thunder Dreamer joined them, his own chest streaked with dried blood. Only three men from their tribe remained tethered to the tree. Her brother, Jeremy and Tawasuota. One by one, they pulled free until it was just Jeremy left.

  Pain etched his features, sweat ran down his body, mingling with the blood. He leaned back on his heels, all his weight pulling against his flesh until he, too, finally broke free, and fell. Dove kept Beth Ann from going to him. “Wait for him to come to us.”

  Striking Thunder and Tawasuota helped him up. He was weak from his ordeal, and they helped him to the tipi. There was much back-slapping and cheering. “Males,” White Dove jeered softly, following.

  Miniyata waited for them with a bowl of water to bathe the blood from her son and to bandage his wounds. Dove also knew she had food ready for him. She didn’t mind. The woman had become not only Jeremy’s mother, but Dove’s as well. Jane, who’d spent the day with her adoptive grandmother, ran to Dove and Beth Ann.

  Finally everyone left, and it was just her and Jeremy and their children. Jeremy stood and smiled at Beth Ann, hugging her to reassure her that he was fine. Beth Ann stepped back to allow Jeremy to scoop her sister into his arms. When he set Jane back down, it was Dove’s turn to greet her husband. She handed her infant child to Beth Ann.

  Dove noted the lines of exhaustion on Jeremy’s face. Her heart wept at the pain he’d suffered. He’d gone through all this just for her, and she never wanted him to do it again. He held his arms out and she went to him.

  “‘Bout time, wife.” Jeremy wrapped an arm around her and kissed her long and hard.

  She buried her face in his shoulder. “You were brave.”

  Jeremy tipped her chin up. “No. I’m in love.” He released her and sat back down. Jane reclined beside him, holding her doll in her arms. Yanking gently on his daughter’s blond braid, Jeremy tickled her nose with the end then held out his arms for Spotted Owl and glanced at Dove. “I’m beat. Your turn to go chase down our dinner. I’ll watch the kids.”

  Dove laughed. In truth, there was already plenty of meat around—enough for the feasting that would continue for a couple more days, but she knew he loved to spend time with the children. At first his willingness to allow her to hunt while he attended the children—especially Spotted Owl—had earned him some good-natured ribbing from the other warriors, but now, no one thought anything of it. The white man had earned the name Mother and carried it with pride.

  Stepping into their tipi, she grabbed bow and arrows. Beth Ann followed. “I’m going with you.” She grabbed a smaller bow, and a quiver of child-sized arrows.

  Dove smiled at her daughter. “Let us go, then.” She ruffled Jane’s head on the way out. Jane was perfectly happy to stay with her father and play with her doll and miniature tipi. Beth Ann however, had grown up too fast, seen too much horror to go back to an innocent childhood.

  “Hey, didn’t you forget something?” Jeremy jumped back up, one arm cradling his sleeping daughter, the other pulling his wife back to him.

  Dove grinned at him. “I do not think so. I have my bow, my arrows and my knife. What more do I need, husband?”

  “Minx.” Jeremy pulled her to him and kissed her—long and hard.

  “White man.” Dove reached behind him and stroked his backside, pleased at the sudden tensing of his flesh. She shivered when he whispered his plans for that night in her ear. She shook her head and whispered her own ideas. His eyes widened, and he grinned.

  Beth Ann rolled her eyes. “Guess this means we have to spend the night with our grandparents again.” She walked off.

  Laughing, Dove caught up with her. Together, mother and daughter went hunting while Jeremy sat in the weak afternoon sunlight with Jane resting her head in his lap. Glancing down, he found himself staring into his infant daughter’s slate-blue eyes. She blew a tiny bubble and stretched, then fell back asleep, perfectly content in her father’s strong arms.

  Life could not be any better.

  * * * * *

  Author’s Note On Tribes

  At one time, the Sioux Nation was composed of seven divisions. In White Dove, I’ve used some of the older names for these tribes. Those names and their meanings are:

  Oglala: To Scatter One’s Own

  Sichangu: Burnt Thighs (now known as the Brules)

  Miniconjou: Those Who Plant by the Stream

  Hunkpapa: Those Who Camp at the Entrance

  Sihasapa: Black Feet

  Itazipcho: Without Bows (or, as the early French called them, and as they are known today, Sans Arcs)

  Oohenonpa: Two Boilings (more commonly known as Two Kettles)

  Looking for more romance in the untamed West? Check out these additional titles from Susan Edwards’ bestselling White series, available now.

  White Dawn (Book 1 of 12)

  White Dusk (Book 2 of 12)

  White Shadows (Book 3 of 12)

  White Wind (Book 4 of 12)

  White Wolf (Book 5 of 12)

  White Nights (Book 6 of 12)

  White Flame (Book 7 of 12)

  White Dreams (Book 8 of 12)

  White Deception (Book 10 of 12)

  White Vengeance (Book 11 of 12)

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  About the Author

  Native American/Western romance writer Susan Edwards is the author of the popular White Series. She was nominated for the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Western Historical and the Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She is very pleased to be able to offer her series in digital format. Susan is working on an idea for a new White book, a reunion of characters. She is also working on developing a new series, one that she is very excited about. Check her website, www.susanedwards.com, for current news.

  Susan lives in Central California with her husband and a houseful of cats, including two rescue kittens who stole her heart. Her other passion is gardening. Through her love of all things Native American, she has designed a twenty-six-foot medicine wheel garden and has “broken ground.” It is a big project but one that she loves. You can follow her progress on her website. Susan also loves to knit and join her husband for hikes in the hills when it isn’t too hot outside.

  You can follow Susan at her various social media outlets:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/susanedwardsauthor

  Twitter: www.twitter.com/susan_edwards

  Blog: http://www.susanedwardsauthor.blogspot.com

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  ISBN: 9781426893575

  Copyright © 2012 by Susan Edwards

  Previously published by Leisure Books

  Copyright © 2001 by Susan Edwards

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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