As a precaution against falling off, Caroline clutched the mane as she had done many times during childhood bareback rides. She had not spoken to War Eagle and had done her best not to make any noise. He looked mysterious and tantalizing in the light of a two-thirds moon. He was clad in moccasins, leggings, loincloth, and vest, all in sienna-colored buckskin and all unadorned, if she didn’t count the fringe work. The top and sides of his ebony hair had been gathered and secured behind his head with a short binding. What she had learned was a medicine pouch was suspended around his neck on another thong, one containing what he had chosen as protective charms. A sheathed knife hung from a plain belt around his narrow waist.
In fact, she recalled from past sightings of him in only a loincloth, his entire body was sleek and agile with visible well-toned muscles. His flesh appeared darker than usual beneath the moon’s caressing light, as did his deep brown eyes when he looked at her. He was an example of near perfection in a man. She didn’t know if it was being so close to him or making a furtive escape or both that caused her heart to beat faster. She could not surmise what might happen if they were exposed and halted.
When they reached Cloud Chaser’s guard position, War Eagle related his gratitude and farewell in sign language and saw his second brother respond in like manner to maintain their silence and secrecy. He leapt upon his horse’s back and, still holding her mount’s tether, left the area in a slow and cautious walk. After reaching a safe distance, he passed the leather strips to Caroline and motioned for her to follow him.
It did not take long for War Eagle to realize she was a skilled rider, and obedient to his order for silence and caution. A surge of excitement coursed through him at being alone with her, while sadness and anger nibbled at his mind to think of her lost forever. He could not help remembering her own sadness and tears at the stream, and how he had yearned to comfort her as Macha had done.
No, he must not give Caroline comfort by holding her in his arms and telling her not be afraid because he would protect her from all harm. But, he reasoned, was taking her to Sparrow the only way to do so? He wished he were convinced of that so he would not be so troubled by it. Should he plead with Wakantanka to intervene on his behalf, beg the Creator to find an honorable way for him to keep her as his woman? Would it be showing shameful weakness and selfishness to ask to be blessed or rewarded in such a manner? Yes, for it was up to the Great Spirit to decide when and how a man should be honored by Him. At present, he needed to push such tormenting thoughts aside; he must not allow himself to be distracted.
By the time they halted for their second break, the first soft glow of dawn was beginning to chase away the darkness. During their first stop, they had not spoken—just dismounted, sipped water, and allowed the horses to rest and to drink from a stream. She guessed they had been traveling for about six hours, but their pace had been slow during the night to avoid accidents such as a horse stepping into an unseen animal burrow or hole from a rotted tree stump. They had journeyed through many patches of woods and a dense forest, crossed several meadows of tall grass and wildflowers, ridden over many low rolling hills, and skirted higher ones. They had flushed birds in ground or bush nests and had spooked nocturnal animals foraging in the woods or grazing in the meadows or drinking at streams. From the moon’s angle during their movements, she knew they were heading northwestward from the eastern side of the Paha Sapa’s rugged but beautiful range. She did not know where the Cheyenne camp was or how long it would take to reach it; and she did not ask him since he wanted to maintain silence between them for security reasons. But on that stop, she did ask to be excused. “Leja?”
War Eagle glanced at her lovely face with pinkened cheeks and gave permission for her to enter the bushes nearby. “Han.”
To Caroline, he looked as if he had been about to say more—no doubt to warn her not to attempt an escape—but had changed his mind. She assumed it was because he realized he could trust her not be reckless, and she wouldn’t be.
Perhaps, she thought, she could coax or trick or scare the Cheyenne into releasing her. Or perhaps she could earn her freedom in some manner. Or she could find a way to escape after she procured their trust and wasn’t watched as closely as she would be upon her arrival. In the event the latter was possible or was provoked by mistreatment, she was making a mental map of their route, just as she had done from her capture point and from the encampment on the grasslands. She was glad she had a good memory.
Upon rejoining War Eagle, she knelt by the stream to wash her hands and to refresh her face with cool water from the nearby mountains. She was aware that the stoic warrior was watching her, openly this time, and she wondered if that meant anything special…
“We go, Wi come,” he said, pointing toward the rising sun.
Again Caroline mounted with his assistance. Although his help was unnecessary, she said nothing to discourage it, and she deduced he knew that fact and chose to ignore it for an unknown reason. Each time, he had lifted her up on the horse’s back as if she weighed less than one of her fancy evening gowns with many yards of satin and ample adornments, items now resting in a canyon in the Badlands. Every time his hands had gripped her waist or brushed against an arm or a leg, quivers had raced over her body and a strange warmth had spread across every inch of her. On occasion, their blue and brown gazes had met, to be averted quickly or to lock for a few moments. It was as if they wanted to say or do something impetuous and intimate but both lacked the courage. If, she mused, something physical—a kiss or an embrace—occurred, would it change anything between them? She didn’t know.
Late that afternoon and following a midday halt to eat and rest, War Eagle became worried about possible perils ahead. Soon, they would cross the edge of Crow territory, the Lakota’s fierce enemies. He hoped he was right about the Bird People not being in that area during this time. He knew the Long Meadows Treaty near Fort Laramie four hot seasons ago forbade enemy tribes and nations from warring with each other. They ware supposed to be allowed to pass through each other’s territory without being attacked and slain. Still, sneaky raids and slayings happened and were concealed from the army’s knowledge. He also knew the Crow mostly honored their treaty with the army, as the Bird People liked trading with them and liked receiving the goods called “annuities” for keeping the peace with whites and bluecoats. If they kept up their current pace and confronted no trouble, they should reach the Cheyenne camp when the sun was high overhead on the next day.
That meant he only had this evening and tomorrow morning to spend with the captivating woman who rode slightly to his left flank. He ordered himself not to think about her or about losing her, to concentrate on the path ahead to sight any Crow or other hazard before reaching it. He was tired, but he had gone without sleep for two days on many occasions and could rest and drop his guard after they entered Red Wolf’s camp. He had allowed Caroline to sleep for a short time after their meal, knowing she was in need of that kindness since she was not a trained warrior.
She had smiled and thanked him for his generosity and good deed, which made her beauty and great appeal more noticeable to him. Despite his constant cautions to stay alert, several times he had caught himself gazing at her as she slumbered. He had craved to stroke her sunny hair, to caress her soft skin, to press his lips to hers, to take her as his woman in all ways. It had been a fierce struggle to restrain his desire and to focus on his duty and remember his sense of honor. He—
Caroline felt compelled to intrude on what she deemed were serious thoughts since her captor seemed oblivious of what was chasing them from their rear. She called his name and told him to look, “Wanbli, iho!” She saw him rein in his mount and turn toward her in haste. As he did so, with amazing speed and agility, his weapon was in his grasp and ready to use if a threat was approaching them. She repeated, “Iho,” as she motioned to the dark sky behind them, which indicated that violent weather was stalking them. She knew that summer thunderstorms struck swift and harsh in this ter
ritory, so she wanted to seek cover as quickly as possible.
Thunder rumbled behind them and slate-colored clouds moved nearer as if in a hurry to overtake and assail them. Strong gusts of wind began to whip about the grass and wildflowers as if threatening to yank them up by their roots, and to shake trees and bushes as if furious at them for some offense. Lightning, singular and multibranched streaks, flashed to their rear and almost overhead. Loud booms of thunder came in their wake; the time separating those two forces of nature revealed how close the dazzling bolts were.
War Eagle studied the ominous sky in haste just before a lightning bolt was seemingly hurled downward like a flaming lance and struck a large tree. The severed top half of the tall pine crashed to the earth and obstructed the trail ahead of them. He heard Caroline shriek in surprise, and the two horses pranced and whinnied in agitation. Since he was familiar with this area, he knew where to find safety. “Come. Inankni yo!”
Caroline did not delay in following his lead and obeying his command to “hurry.” She had never liked bad storms. She remembered being terrified of them as a child after she saw a man killed by a brilliant strike of lightning like the one that had felled part of the huge tree not far beyond them. She recalled how she had snuggled in her mother’s arms, hidden her face against a comforting chest, closed her eyes, and covered her ears with her small hands until it ended. This storm alarmed her, since they were in the open and it was surrounding them fast. Her tension and fears increased as she coaxed War Eagle to go faster and find adequate shelter before they were injured or drenched.
What if God is intervening and saving you? What if your captor is slain and you’re freed? You could take the horse and supplies and join David. Yet, as she looked at War Eagle’s broad back and recalled that he had never mistreated her, she realized she didn’t want her freedom at that enormous price. It pained her to think of his death and saddened her to think of never seeing him and many of the Red Shields again. As if he sensed she was thinking wicked thoughts, he half turned and looked at her, their gazes locking for a few moments. Shame flooded her entire body and she had the urge to apologize, but she did not.
War Eagle misread the expression on her pale face and in her wide blue eyes to mean great fear and a plea for comfort and protection. He could not help murmuring, “Kopegla sni yo, Kawa Cante. Come,” he added in English and hoped she had not grasped his careless slip.
After he turned forward and continued downward, Caroline stared at his back. Had she heard and understood him correctly? Had he intentionally meant to say, “Do not be afraid, Heart Flower?” Surely not. Yet, from past lessons, she knew what those first three Lakota words meant, and she was certain Macha had pointed to a flower when she said “kawa.” She knew “wastecante” meant good-hearted and “waste” meant good. That had to mean “cante” was heart, even if it had come last because they were joined to form one word. She had learned that adjectives came after nouns, as the Paha Sapa, Hills Black, for Black Hills. Verbs came after direct objects and nouns before prepositions. Many of their language rules were reversed from hers. She was glad Cloud Chaser had spoken English so well and had taught her those differences.
You’re mistaken; you must be, she told herself. Perhaps Dawn was referring to that particular kind of flower, one with yellow petals, and the color of your hair simply reminded him of it. Since your name is so hard for him to say and Indians often choose names from nature, he probably just called you something easier and more familiar to him. Forget it, silly girl!
After they reached a place with large black boulders scattered about and a broad and high cliff behind them, War Eagle leapt off his Appaloosa and helped Caroline dismount. “Go,” he told her as he pointed to a spot where a thick ledge jutted from the dark wall of solid rock. As Caroline ran in that direction, he tethered the horses in a dense area of trees where he hoped they would be safe from harm. He grabbed the supplies and ran to join her as rain started to come down in large and fast drops.
Caroline bent over, ducked her head, and scrambled beneath the overhang, which was about four feet from the ground. The shelf was wide and deep enough for two people to share close confines in an emergency, and this certainly qualified. She pressed her back against the rock, drew her legs to her breasts, and tugged her skirt behind her calves. She hugged her knees to her chest where her heart thudded in anxiety as the storm’s fury increased. She watched War Eagle toss in the supply and water pouches, duck, and take a seat beside her. Within minutes, a deluge of water was coming down.
To prevent thinking about the handsome man whose virile body was touching hers in the snug space, Caroline stared at the impenetrable and noisy curtain of liquid that poured over the end of the ledge and sealed them off from the assailed world. The depth and downward angle of the shelf and gentle slope of the ground prevented water from flowing into the shelter, though splatters on the hard ground bounced toward them and dampened his leggings, her skirttail, and their footwear. She saw shiny reflections on the lambent veil when frequent lightning flashed outside and she heard the grumblings of thunder as if it were a hungry and angered beast. She listened to the sounds of rain beating down on the overhang, hard earth, and nature’s greenery. Despite the fact they were enclosed and it was summer, the small area did not get stuffy from a lack of airflow. In fact, the deluge created cool and soothing sensations and a delightful smell of freshness.
Suddenly the ferocity of the storm increased, although Caroline had not thought that was possible. A bolt of lightning shot down near their location and sent forth a thunderous crack, which caused her to jump and shriek in fright. Uncontrollably she whirled sideways, flung her arms around his waist, and buried her face against his chest as she trembled.
Without thinking, his arms embraced her of their own volition and held her against his body as he murmured again, “Kopegla sni yo, Kawa Cante. War Eagle protect. Great Spirit shoot Fire Arrows. Wakinyan flap wings, make … noise,” he said after his mind sought the right word as Cloud Chaser and Chumani had taught him.
“What or who is Wakinyan?” she asked to keep him talking to distract herself from the storm and his tantalizing appeal. With her cheek now resting on his chest, she heard the steady beat of his heart, which seemed a little fast for normal…
“Thunderbird. He good spirit. No fear him. You safe.”
Caroline was surprised and confused—and aroused—by his gentle manner and comforting overtures. For now, he was being compassionate, and that behavior and his tender tone encased her in a warm glow. “I’m afraid of bad storms, but I feel safe with you. Thank you, Wanbli, for being so kind and generous. How long do storms last out here?”
War Eagle comprehended the gist of her words and they pleased him, just as their contact enflamed his desire. “Great Spirit say … how long.”
“After the storm is gone, we’ll ride to the Cheyenne camp?”
Assuming the fallen tree in their path was a sacred signal from the Creator to turn back and to keep her, he replied, “No. Grandfather say return to camp if sign come from Great Spirit to turn back.”
Caroline’s shocked mind ventured, He discussed you with Nahemana? Was the shaman, she wondered, the person who had suggested she be sent away to maintain harmony in their camp and between relatives, not War Eagle? Yet, it sounded as if Nahemana … She lifted her head and looked at him in bewilderment. “But I thought you were taking me to the Cheyenne camp. What sign are you taking about?”
“Fire Arrow strike tree, tree fall, path closed. It mean, go back.”
She surmised that he believed his God had placed a barrier in their path and they should not go around or over it. He was taking her back home with him? But what about his reasons for sending her away? “What will Two Feathers say and do when I return?”
All he did was shake his head as if to respond he did not know, or as if it no longer mattered to him after receiving a divine sign from his God.
Caroline knew there was another angle to be considered
and she broached it. “When war comes, I could endanger your camp by being there; I wouldn’t want to be responsible for suffering and deaths.” Besides, she had a better chance of freedom arid rejoining her brother in the Cheyenne camp, didn’t she? “You must not take me back to your camp.”
War Eagle was touched by what he thought was her concern for their safety and survival. “What mean … re-sponsi-ble? What mean … suffering?”
“Responsible means …” Caroline paused to think of how to explain those words to him, then began by touching her chest and saying, “I caused bad to come.” She spoke slowly to give him time to mentally translate or to reason out her words. “Responsible means soldiers come and attack your camp to rescue me, to punish Red Shields for attacking soldiers in the wagons and stealing me. Suffering means injuries, wounds, deaths, burn tepees, destroy food, shoot with … thundersticks. Do you understand?”
“War Eagle understand.” She would blame herself for causing the soldiers to attack them. She was wrong, as an attack would come whether or not she was among them, and he doubted the bluecoats would know she was their captive before they did so. Yet, it warmed his soul to hear that concern worried her. Macha was right at the stream: Caroline was good-hearted, unlike the enemy white-skins who wanted their land and wanted them slain or pushed out of this territory. “Man, woman born to live, die; it Great Circle of Life. War Eagle no fear ghost ride to Creator. Good man, woman return to Wakantanka. Spirit of bad man, woman not go to Him. War Eagle obey Great Spirit command; He say you go back.”
As he gazed into her blue eyes and sensed her lingering concern, War Eagle finally admitted to himself that Two Feathers was not totally to blame for his decision and action; he had feared Caroline’s potent effect on him and had been desperate to end it by separating them, to sacrifice her to save himself and his honor. Now, he knew that losing her would not accomplish that.
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