The black ran effortlessly, its long legs carrying them ever closer to the foot of a low range of hills. Shadow Hawk reined the horse to a walk and they began to climb upward. She was conscious of Hawk’s broad chest at her back, of his arm around her waist, holding her tight.
Higher and higher they climbed until they came to a plateau. Hawk reined the black to a halt. Dismounting, he placed his hands around Maggie’s waist and lifted her from the back of the horse to cradle her in his arms.
She stared at him, puzzled when he didn’t put her down, felt her breath catch in her throat as she gazed into the depths of his eyes.
“I…you… Why don’t you put me down,” she stammered. “I must be heavy.”
Slowly he shook his head. She felt good in his arms. Her scent filled his nostrils, sweeter than the scent of the pines.
“Hawk, I…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she didn’t know what she wanted to say, only that she liked to say his name.
“What is it, Mag-gie?”
“Nothing.”
Still cradling her in his arms, he sat down, his back against a ponderosa pine. He gazed at her for a long time, and then he looked up the hill. The Sacred Cave. Was it still there?
“It’s beautiful,” Maggie said, following his gaze. “I often wished I could climb to the top.”
Shadow Hawk nodded. “Bob-by will come here for his vision quest.”
“I hope he’s successful. He’s a good boy. He’s hoping to be accepted at one of the colleges this fall.”
“College?”
“It’s a place of learning.”
“White man’s learning?”
“Yes, he hopes to be a doctor, a modern medicine man, so he can help his people on the reservation.”
“One learns this in college?”
“Yes. In the old days I know that such things were handed down from one medicine man to the next, but things are more complicated now. A man needs a paper of permission to practice medicine. We have learned many things in the last hundred years or so.”
“Have you? You have not learned how to live with the land. Or with each other.”
He was very quick to comprehend what he saw and heard, Maggie reminded herself. He watched the news on television, appalled by the wars, the poverty, the murders. Some things were hard to translate. It was difficult to explain what AIDS was to a man who came from a culture where there was no such thing as casual sex. It was hard to explain child abuse, the drug scene, the high crime rate, the pollution of the air and the water, oil spills, abortion.
Maggie let out a sigh. Up here, where the sky was clear and the air smelled of pine, it was hard to think of the awful state the world was in. Sitting in Hawk’s lap, with his arms around her, his breath warm upon her neck, it was hard to think at all.
“Tell me how you got your name?” she asked after awhile.
“During my vision quest the shadow of a hawk merged with mine and for a time we were one. The medicine man said I would be as strong and wise as a hawk if I followed the Life Path of the Lakota.”
He was quiet a moment, remembering old Heart-of-the-Wolf, and then he gazed at Maggie. “I saw you that day also, though I did not tell anyone. I did not see your face clearly, only the shadowed image of a woman with dark hair. I saw you again during the Sun Dance. And once, when I went to pray, I saw you as clearly as I do now.”
His words washed over her as warm as liquid sunshine. There were people who believed in reincarnation, who believed that spirits could travel between worlds. People who believed in ghosts, and in time travel. She had always been a skeptic, until now. She wondered why she found it so easy to believe he had come from the past, why she had never doubted it for a moment.
Shadow Hawk gazed deep into her eyes, his soul reaching out to hers. “The land of the Paha Sapa is in my blood. It is a part of me.” His dark eyes caressed her for several moments, warming her from the inside out in a way no fire ever could. “Everything of value or importance in my life has come to me here,” he said quietly, “in the sacred hills of the Lakota.”
They gazed at each other for a long time and then, slowly, he stroked her cheek, the curve of her neck, the inner flesh of her arm. Heat flowed in the wake of his touch and she felt suddenly shy and awkward. She lowered her gaze, swallowing hard as she saw his broad shoulders, the muscular expanse of his chest.
Nervously, she licked her lips, wishing he would kiss her just once. Wishing she was young and carefree, that she could take him by the hand and walk beside him in the sunshine, swim in the lake beneath the light of the moon.
Mute, her heart aching, she looked into his eyes. Just one kiss, she thought. What could it hurt? And leaning forward, she placed her lips to his. It was the lightest of touches, the merest whisper of a kiss, but it was more satisfying than anything she had ever known.
She drew back, embarrassed at her boldness. Hawk was looking at her strangely and it occurred to her that he might he married. The thought was like a knife in her heart. But surely he would have mentioned a wife if he had one. Then again, maybe not.
“Are you…I mean, do you have a family waiting for your return?”
“Only my mother, if she is still alive.”
“Then you’re not married, or anything?”
Hawk shook his head.
Maggie frowned. Were all the Indian women blind? “Why?” she asked. “Why haven’t you married?”
Hawk looked at Maggie, at her curly black hair and deep blue eyes, eyes that touched the depths of his heart, and knew, for the first time, why none of the Lakota maidens had appealed to him, why he’d never courted any of the women who had made it known they found him desirable. He was in love with the Spirit Woman, had been since he first saw her face in vision.
“Mag-gie.” He whispered her name and then, very gently, he cupped her face between his hands and pressed his lips to hers.
Slowly, gradually, the pressure of his lips, and the beat of her heart, increased until she was clinging to him, drinking from his lips as one who was dying of thirst might drink from the fount of life.
She felt his hands move in her hair and she twined her arms around his neck, reveling in his touch, his nearness. Too long, she thought, it had been too long since she’d been held in a man’s arms, too long since she’d let anyone get close to her, physically or emotionally.
She was breathless when he drew away. Breathless and embarrassed. One kiss and she reacted like a wanton. One little kiss and she was ready to melt in his embrace. But she would not, could not! All her life she’d held her emotions in check, refusing to be like the other girls she knew, girls who slept with a guy just because he was cute, or sexy-looking or because he drove a nice car. She’d wanted more out of life than just a good time, a quick thrill. She’d wanted love and romance and happy ever after. She still did, even though it was no longer possible.
“Spirit Woman.” His voice was low and husky, his breathing erratic.
“Please, I…take me home.”
“Do not be afraid of me, Mag-gie. I will not shame you.”
But it wasn’t Hawk she was afraid of, it was her reaction to his kiss. One kiss and she was on fire for a man she hardly knew. It was too much, too fast, and it frightened her. “Please, Shadow Hawk, take me home.”
“As you wish.”
She held herself as far away from him as possible on the long ride down the hill. She was getting too fond of him and she had to stop it now before it was too late. She was too old for him and he was too much of a man for her. He deserved a whole woman, not a useless cripple.
As soon as he put her in her chair she went to her room and closed the door, hiding from Shadow Hawk as much as from herself, finally seeking escape in sleep. But he followed her there as well, and in her dreams they walked together in the sun and she wasn’t afraid anymore.
Chapter Thirteen
Naked, Shadow Hawk and Bobby sat across from each other inside a sweat lodge made from the poles and tight
ly woven branches of a pine tree.
Bobby had been embarrassed at first. He had never done such a thing before, but Shadow Hawk had shed his clout and moccasins without the slightest hesitation.
And no wonder. Shadow Hawk had a powerful physique, Bobby thought with more than a trace of envy. He wasn’t all arms and legs and thin as a sapling. Then and there Bobby vowed to begin working out. He’d seen the way Miss St. Claire looked at Hawk, her eyes filled with admiration. He’d even seen Veronica staring at Hawk, and she was old enough to be his mother!
Now, he looked at Shadow Hawk expectantly, feeling anxious and excited as Hawk prepared the pit that would hold the heated stones, listening carefully as Hawk explained the purpose of the hanbelachia and the smoothed trail, then placed tiny bundles of tobacco on the vision hill. They had no sacred pipe, but Hawk had made a pipe that he hoped would serve the same purpose. It rested on the sacred hill, its stem facing east.
They had persuaded Veronica to help them, and when all was ready, Shadow Hawk called to her to pass in the first four stones. Then, as he had seen Heart-of-the-Wolf do, Shadow Hawk took the pipe and touched the stem to one of the stones.
“All winged creatures,” he murmured, for his power came from the hawk. With great ceremony, he passed the pipe to Bobby, who puffed it four times before he passed it back, each of them taking turns puffing on the pipe until the tobacco was gone.
“All winged creatures,” Shadow Hawk murmured again, and tossed a spoonful of cold water on the stones.
As steam filled the lodge, Shadow Hawk began to chant the sacred songs, imploring the Great Spirit to purify their hearts and minds, to cleanse their souls.
Eyes closed, he prayed for health and strength, for wisdom for himself and for Bobby. And as he prayed, he saw Heart-of-the-Wolf standing beside him, heard the old medicine man’s voice assuring him that his mother was well, reminding him to follow the Life Path of the Lakota, and to teach the young warrior to do the same.
Slowly, Shadow Hawk opened his eyes. Bobby was sitting across from him, a look of bewilderment on his face.
“What is it?” Shadow Hawk asked.
“I saw an old man,” Bobby replied. “His skin was lined with the passage of many years, his hair was streaked with gray, and he wore a buffalo horn headdress.”
“Heart-of-the-Wolf,” Hawk murmured.
“Did you see him?”
“Yes.”
“Did he speak?” Bobby asked, leaning forward.
“He reminded me to always walk in the Life Path of the Lakota. And to teach you to do the same.”
Bobby swallowed hard. “I heard the same words.”
“I know.”
Bobby’s eyes grew wide. “He spoke to both of us?”
Shadow Hawk nodded. He had shared Bobby’s vision and seen one of his own. He had seen Heart-of-the-Wolf standing outside the Sacred Cave, had heard the old man’s voice speaking to him, the words soft yet clear.
It is not yet time, the old medicine man had said. Only be patient and you will again be reunited with our people.
It gave Hawk a sense of peace to know that Heart-of-the-Wolf was still watching over him, that he was not alone in a strange land after all.
“When will I seek a vision?” Bobby asked.
“In two days time. You must go alone to the hills, unarmed and unafraid. You must open your heart and your soul, your whole being, if you wish to hear the voice of Wakán Tanka. You must make an offering of tobacco or pollen to the earth and the sky and to the four directions. And you must listen, not with your ears, but with your heart and your soul. And you must not doubt.”
Bobby nodded. He had known Shadow Hawk only a short time, yet he felt the greatness of the other man, the inner strength and self-confidence. He had seen few men on the reservation he wanted to emulate, but Shadow Hawk was a man who inspired his trust.
Chapter Fourteen
Maggie’s feelings grew more confused with each passing day. She tried to shut Hawk out of her life, tried to pretend that she didn’t care for him at all, that his kiss hadn’t warmed the innermost part of her being. In time, he would leave her, just as Susie had left her, as Frank had left her. It was better not to care at all than to risk being hurt again.
But Hawk refused to be shut out of her life. As fast as she built walls, he tore them down. Usually it took only a smile, or the sound of his voice, and barriers she’d thought made of stone melted like snow in the sunshine.
Sometimes she thought it was all a dream, that his presence was just a figment of her all too active imagination. And sometimes it seemed like Hawk had always been there, sitting across from her at the kitchen table, making her smile. She tried not to let him get close to her, tried to keep him away, but he had only to look at her through those fathomless dark eyes, speak her name in that voice like crushed black velvet, and she was lost.
She found herself taking more pains with her appearance, wearing long skirts and frilly blouses instead of jeans and a sweatshirt. Instead of tying her hair back in a ponytail to keep it out of her face, she let it fall free around her shoulders because he had once remarked that he liked it that way.
One night, while they were sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace, she told Hawk about Susie, accusing herself of being negligent, foolish, a murderer, pounding on his chest with her fists as all the old pain and rage washed through her. He had let her scream, he had let her cry, and all the while he had held her in his arms, impervious to the blows she rained upon him, whispering that it hadn’t been her fault, that it had been an accident, that her sister had died and she had lived because the Great Spirit had wanted it that way.
Maggie didn’t believe him, didn’t think she could ever forgive herself for what had happened, and yet, after that night, the nightmares that had intermittently haunted her dreams faded and she felt an inner sense of peace and acceptance.
Hawk had won Veronica’s affection, as well. She cooked his favorite dinner, steak and fried potatoes, at least once a week, and because he had an insatiable sweet tooth, there was always chocolate in the house, be it cake or brownies or pie, and sometimes all three.
Bobby idolized Hawk, imitating the way he walked, trying to copy the soft way he spoke, following Hawk around the ranch whenever he went outside.
So quickly, Maggie thought, so easily he had become a part of all their lives. How would she ever let him go?
* * * * *
It was on a cool cloudy morning when Bobby left on his vision quest. Clad only in a clout that his brother had sent him from the reservation, he vaulted onto the back of a long-legged gray gelding and rode off toward the Hills, carrying nothing but a small sack of corn pollen and a blanket.
Shadow Hawk stood outside watching Bobby ride away.
Maggie sat at her bedroom window watching them both. For a moment, she closed her eyes, praying that Bobby would find what he was looking for.
When she opened her eyes again, Hawk was still standing outside, his arms raised toward heaven, his head thrown back. Quietly, she opened the window, listening unabashedly to the sound of his voice, deep and rich, as he offered a prayer to Wakán Tanka.
“He, the Father of us all, has shown His mercy unto me. In peace will I walk the straight road. He has made the earth and the trees, the rocks and all living things. This day is good. May this be the day I consider mine. Let all creatures be glad. Let all the earth sing.”
After a moment, he lowered his arms to his sides and then, slowly, he turned around to face her.
Maggie blushed, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping on something as personal as a prayer. But Hawk didn’t seem angry to find her watching him. Instead, he smiled as he walked toward her bedroom window. Opening it all the way, he climbed over the low sill.
“Hawk, what are you doing?”
“Taking you to breakfast,” he said, and lifting her from her chair, he carried her down the hall into the kitchen where Veronica was scrambling eggs and frying bacon.
“Morning,” Veronica said, apparently unconcerned at the sight of her employer being carried into the kitchen in the arms of a man who was not her husband. “Breakfast is ready.”
Shadow Hawk placed Maggie in one of the kitchen chairs, then sat down across from her. She looked especially pretty this morning. Her hair was unbound, falling free over her shoulders just the way he liked it, and he wondered fleetingly, hopefully, if she’d left it down to please him. She wore a flowing robe of some soft blue material that matched her eyes, and he thought he might willingly give up all the battle honors he had earned as a warrior if he could look upon her face each morning of his life.
Maggie felt the heat wash into her cheeks as Hawk smiled at her, his dark eyes warm. She smiled back at him, thinking how much more pleasant mornings had become since Hawk had arrived. He took such pleasure in eating that it made her enjoy her own food more. He seemed to have a limitless appetite and it had become a contest to see if Veronica could prepare more food than he could eat. This morning he wolfed down half a dozen pancakes, five strips of bacon, three eggs and three cups of coffee.
Veronica grinned as she began to clear the table. “I thought that boy Bobby ate a lot,” she mused, “but Shadow Hawk takes the cake.”
“Cake,” Hawk said. “You are baking again today?”
“Seems like I bake every day since you showed up.”
“And it’s beginning to show,” Maggie said, patting her stomach. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds in the last couple of weeks.”
“Looks good on you,” Veronica retorted. “You were too thin.”
Maggie made a soft sound of disagreement. “You know what they say, you can’t be too rich or too thin.”
Hawk sat back in his chair. He had come to enjoy the easy banter between the two women, just as he’d come to enjoy being the center of attention. In the village there hadn’t been much time to just sit back and relax. He’d spent many hours with Heart-of-the-Wolf, learning the ancient chants and healing skills of the Lakota. And because he was well liked by the other warriors, he was always invited to go along on a hunt or a raid. Though still a young man, he had been considered wise beyond his years and many of the young men had come to him seeking advice.
The Spirit Path Page 8