Sweet Savage Heart

by Janelle Taylor

  When Nathan finished, Travis stood and tossed his shirt on the rock to allow the blood to dry. Then he began removing the telltale arrows from the men’s bodies. He searched until he was holding the six he originally had given her. After replacing them in the quiver, he looked over at Rana, who had not moved from her prior position though she had ceased her crying. She was so still and quiet that she appeared to be sleeping; yet Travis knew she was not. “Rana, you need to choose another mount from those men’s horses so I can saddle him and load your gear. I’m sorry, but we have to leave quickly.”

  Rana pushed herself from Cloud’s body and took one last look at him before standing to face Travis. “I wish to take back my cruel words to you. I spoke them when I was not myself. They were mean, and untrue. You are a skilled warrior of much honor and prowess. You have done all to protect us, and you saved our lives. I am ashamed for behaving as a hurt child. I ask forgiveness and understanding.”

  Relief filled Travis. “Thank you, Rana. That makes me feel better, but your words were true. I promised to keep you safe and happy. I failed. I was gone when you needed me and now your heart bleeds over Mahpiya’s loss. When we get home, I’ll find you another special horse to take his place. Are you hurt anywhere?”

  Her eyes grew misty at his soft words and sensitivity. She shook her head. “As with my brother, you carry a heavy burden to protect your family. It was wrong for me to add foolish weight to it. Do not be angry with me,” she coaxed as her gaze went to his bandage and bloody arm. Concern darkened her eyes. “You are injured.”

  “It’s fine. Nate took care of it. Do you want to wash and change clothes first or pick a horse to use?”

  Rana checked her appearance. “I will choose the horse first,” she replied reluctantly, wanting that necessary chore done quickly.

  Rana and Travis walked to where the deserters had left their horses tethered. She looked at each of the seven mounts, then selected the best one. Travis grinned. “You’ll make a good rancher ‘cause you sure know good horseflesh. You constantly amaze me, woman.”

  Travis unsaddled the horse and led him to where Nathan was waiting. “I’ll round up your horse while you and Rana get ready to ride. I doubt he ran far with his reins down.”

  After Travis left, Nathan turned his back while his granddaughter bathed and pulled on another dress. Rana decided that it was not the time to question Nathan about the scars on Travis’s chest and back or the Lakota wanapin around his neck. As she was brushing and braiding her hair, Nathan explained why Travis had been delayed and how he had been wounded. Rana was glad she had apologized before learning such facts, for her apology would mean more to Travis. She was beginning to understand why the man had such a disquieting effect on her and caused her to behave so impulsively…

  Back in the Oglala camp, Chief Lone Wolf was meeting with several Hunkpapa leaders and warriors. His dark eyes slipped around the circle to halt briefly on Sitting Bull, Gall, and Dream Hunter. When news had reached their camp about the joining of Wild Wind to a half-blooded man named White Eagle/Travis Kincade, the Hunkpapas had ridden swiftly to confer with their Oglala brothers about this man. Lone Wolf had described Travis’s visit in detail and had sat stoically as the war chief, Gall, had revealed White Eagle’s past to him.

  “You say White Eagle claimed innocence in his father’s treachery. I say his actions in my camp prove he has no hatred for the Lakotas. Many winters passed that he did not return for the yellow rocks. I say Grandfather spared his life to help us this full moon. I saw only a man of great courage and prowess, a man of complete honor and truth. Grandfather sent him to the wooden tepee of my sister’s people and brought him back to our lands to claim her as his wife. It is as it should be.”

  “His father’s blood runs in his body, Lone Wolf. He has tricked you and betrayed you as his father did your Lakota brothers. Many died long ago. We must ride after him and punish him.”

  “His mother’s blood also runs in his body, Gall. My warriors rode with White Eagle to buy the guns, and they spoke of his courage and cunning. Others trailed him in secret when he rode from our camp. My warriors returned to say that he spoke to no enemy. He honored his words and bargain. He travels fast to return to his lands. I see why he was eager to ride like the wind; his Hunkpapa brothers wish to slay him for a black deed he did not do. Look into your hearts, my brothers. He lived and fought at your sides for eighteen winters. All tribes knew of his prowess and victories. Why did you turn your hearts against him? He has suffered much because you rejected him. I saw sadness in his eyes, then his joy to be in these lands once more, and finally there was new sadness that he could not remain. He was and is a good man. Grandfather protects him. Let this past evil die.”

  Dream Hunter nodded and concurred. “I say Lone Wolf speaks wisely and true. No warrior was braver than White Eagle. His coups were many and his heart strong and true. I say he was tricked by his father as the Hunkpapas were tricked. Many spoke against White Eagle while the pain of lost loved ones and the anger of his father’s treachery burned fresh in their hearts and minds. I say that the heart of Charge-A-Buffalo and his words to White Eagle were evil. We must bury this deed.”

  Sitting Bull listened intently to each man before speaking. “A strange darkness seeks to cover the sky to keep sunshine from Grandfather’s children and creatures. Evil rides behind this darkness, but its source is not White Eagle. White Eagle was touched by Grandfather. He has been sent to help his people and to show forgiveness for their blindness long ago. White Eagle was not our enemy then; he is not our enemy this moon. I gave White Eagle his name and wanapin when he returned to our camp when he was ten and six winters old. Even as a boy, he caused strange stirrings in my heart and visions in my head.”

  Sitting Bull drew on his redstone pipe before continuing. “When I had walked the face of Mother Earth twenty-five winters, I saw him in my visions as a mighty eagle who was forced to fly each sun and moon without rest. I saw a broken arrow, for he was of two warring bloods and could never know peace in our lands. When his father and people dishonored and betrayed him, he broke the war arrow and sought peace far away. In a later vision I saw the white eagle capture a thunderbolt with his talon, for his skill and courage were great. Around the eagle’s neck I saw the wanapin of the War Bonnet Society. My visions have come to pass. White Eagle has found peace in another land. He returned when our Lakota brothers were painted with the War Bonnet markings. He gave them guns and supplies for defense and survival. As the thunderbolt, he has shown much power and magic. For his deeds, he earned a special coup: the sister of Lone Wolf, granddaughter to the man he now calls father and friend. Life is a mysterious circle like the sacred medicine wheel, my brothers. It was broken many winters past. It is whole again. We must leave White Eagle to his own destiny,” Sitting Bull concluded with a wisdom that exceeded his thirty-six years.

  Lone Wolf closed his eyes in relief, for Travis Kincade’s destiny was now shared by his sister. He recalled the night he had revealed the joining demand to Travis and how the man had accepted the term with very little protest. He remembered the way Travis and Wild Wind had reacted to each other. Yes, he decided happily, all was as it should be. Suddenly sadness washed over him, for he knew then that he would never see Wild Wind again. He thanked the Great Spirit for the love and days they had shared. Be free and happy, my little wildfire, he prayed.

  Travis, Rana, and Nathan rode over undulating prairie land that had been shaped by nature and held fast by endless miles of grass upon which buffalo and wild game grazed. They traveled over plains broken by occasional valleys or rolling hills. Sometimes they would not see enough trees to conceal one horse and rider, much less three of each. Other times they would ride past or through a heavy covering of them. The sky above remained a tranquil blue and the weather was glorious.

  Nathan and Rana were cheerful and relaxed, having been drawn closer by their shared brush with danger and death. Rana tried not to think about the fate of her cherished
white stallion, for his death meant one less bond with the Oglala people and her past life. She wondered if the Great Spirit was cutting all ties one by one as she rode toward her new life. She was dressed in white garments, riding a white man’s horse, speaking the white man’s tongue, living with two white men, and wearing her hair in one heavy braid down her back instead of two in the Indian style. Except for the possessions hidden in her saddlebag and the feelings in her heart, there was nothing left of her life in the Kiowa and Oglala camps. Already that world seemed so far away and long ago.

  Each time their pace slowed, Nathan and Rana exchanged words quickly. Nathan had already begun to help her with English words and numbers, which he mistakenly believed she had forgotten over the years in the Indian camps. Each time they halted for a rest break or for Travis to dismount and look around, Nathan would drill Rana on what he had told her during their previous stops. Rana allowed the mostly unnecessary lessons to continue because Nathan was experiencing such pride in teaching her. She savored his patience and affection, and she enjoyed the way he bragged about her intelligence and determination to Travis, for impressing her husband thrilled her.

  Nathan and Rana knew that Travis was still upset about what had happened to them the morning before. Both knew he expected a lot, perhaps too much, from himself, and they felt it would be best to leave him alone to work through his feelings.

  Travis was tense and quiet, but not for the reasons they believed. His keen eyes cautiously scanned their surroundings, and he allowed nothing to distract his intense concentration today. His astute senses were constantly gathering information, studying it, sorting it, and remembering it. His entire body felt on edge, every nerve on full alert. Even his skin seemed to prickle in warning, as if everything he was or had learned was warning him of the presence of evil. His perceptions were so forceful that his body remained constantly taut, his eyes narrowed, and his teeth clenched. Anyone who knew anything about this area and its people would recognize signs of impending peril along the way, signs— both Indian and white—he had been sighting and reading all day.

  Travis hoped that Nathan and Rana did not realize how worried he was, even though he had cautioned them to stay close to him and ready to respond to his orders rapidly. He had been taught trail signs and the language of blankets and feathers, and he had not forgotten them. No one could make nature speak as clearly or as loudly as the Indians. He could tell the tribe an Indian was from simply by looking at his moccasin print. He knew how to read markings, attachments, and positions of feathers to learn how a warrior had earned his coups and how he was ranked. He could send or interpret smoke signals. But today, it was the trail signs that disquieted him.

  From the signs left behind with artfully arranged stones, deftly bound bunches of grass and carefully positioned sticks and cuttings on tree bark, Travis knew where the Indians were going, when they had passed this area, how many were in the hunting or raiding parties, and what their intentions were. It looked as if Kansas would be more dangerous traveling than either Dakota or Nebraska.

  When they camped for the night, Travis waited for Rana to excuse herself before telling Nathan, “We’ll make Fort Wallace a little past noon tomorrow. I want you and Rana to camp near the fort while I do some checking around. Try to discourage anybody from approaching and talking to you two. But if you get visitors, make sure she understands that everyone will be told you’re my father and she’s my wife. I don’t want any contradictions or slipups.” To make sure they each told the same story, Travis went over the details once more.

  “There’s been a lot of fighting going on in this area for the past year, Nate, and it’s going to get worse during the summer. While you and Rana get some rest, I’ll nose around the fort and see what I can learn. With any luck, I can trade that Army horse for another one and pick up a few supplies. Try to keep Rana hidden as much as possible. She’s a beautiful and tempting female, and some of these men haven’t seen or had a woman in ages. We don’t want anybody dogging us when we leave Fort Wallace.”

  Rana awoke several times during the night to find Travis’s bedroll empty more often than not. When she stirred at dawn, it was empty once more. She quietly slipped from her sleeping mat and went to seek him. By then, it was obvious to her that Travis had been constantly scouting the area. She remembered his fierce concentration during the last day and a half, recalling how many times he had dismounted to study the trail. She had been distracted by her grief over Cloud’s loss and her learning games with Nathan, which had revealed the older man’s kindness, admiration, and patience. From now on, she would pay closer attention to the trail and to Travis’s grave concern, for she already knew most of the things Nathan was trying to teach her. She reasoned that when a man of great courage and prowess became quiet and alert, it could only mean trouble or danger.

  Rana was slipping through the trees, looking right and left for a sign of Travis. When she halted to listen for a clue to his location, she heard nothing. As she turned to head back for camp, she was confronted by a broad chest. Inhaling sharply, she stepped backward in astonishment as she found Travis standing within inches of her. “You drift as silently as a shadow and as secretly as a calm wind. I did not hear you move or breathe. I am happy you are not an enemy, for my hunting skills have dulled.”

  Travis grinned as he told her, “If you could hear me and see me, then you would be the better hunter and warrior. Is it not best for me to have keener instincts and skills? You have proven yourself in battle, but I have no coup feathers to give you.” He eased out of the Indian speaking style when he murmured, “I’m proud of you, Rana. Every place has its bad men and perils, including Texas; so I’m relieved you know how to defend yourself and can fight with us. It’s good to find a woman who has a generous heart and a smart mind. Most of the ones I’ve met are deceitful, selfish bi… women who only think about themselves and couldn’t fight their way out of an empty barn. You’re very special, and I hope you stay that way.

  Rana wondered if there were clues in his insults about women that might explain his continued distance from her. If so, she decided, this was not the time to explore them. She tucked away that piece of information, declaring, “I am glad I do not displease you, Travis Kincade. In time we will come to know each other, for you are unlike other men I have known. It is good to find a man with a strong heart who thinks of others before himself and is unafraid to show gentleness when others need it. I was seeking you to ask questions. Why do you fear for our safety? Do the marks on the trail worry you? What do they say?”

  “I’ll explain tonight. When we reach Fort Wallace after the sun is high, I’m going to speak with the soldiers. I don’t want you to be afraid, but you must be careful. When I return, I’ll explain our situation. Promise me you’ll stay with Nate and obey him.”

  “But the bluecoats are enemies,” she protested fearfully.

  “Not anymore, Rana. You’re part of the white world again. Unless we’re careless, nobody will discover our secrets. Most people think I’m half-Spanish, not Indian.”

  “What is Spanish?” she inquired.

  “You know how the Lakotas look and speak and act different from the Mandans or Arikaras or other Indian nations. The Spanish are one of the white nations. Texas has plenty of Spanish or half-Spanish people. I blend in without any trouble. You will too if you don’t do or say anything to expose your past.”

  “Will the whites despise me for living with the Indians?”

  “Most whites would rather see a woman die than become an Indian captive. They wouldn’t understand or believe your situation, so keep quiet about it,” he advised seriously.

  “I will do as you say, but it will be hard. For many winters I was taught to hate and mistrust whites. I have forgotten what it is to live or be white. You and Nate must teach me such things again.”

  “We will, Rana,” he promised, then smiled at her. “Let’s get back or Nate will start to worry about us,” he suggested, wary of the enticing soli
tude and her compelling nearness.

  Later, as they neared the fort, they met several scouting and working details, which they passed without any problems. Travis was glad he had told Rana to dress in the pants and an over-sized shirt and to trap her flaming hair beneath a floppy hat. But these devices only concealed part of her beauty and shapely figure. He could not help but notice how the men who came close to them eyed her with looks of intrigue and admiration. Twinges of jealousy and possessiveness assailed him once more.

  Travis halted and suggested they make camp within sight of Fort Wallace, assuming it would be safe to leave them alone this close to the voice of white authority and power. Before riding off, he reminded Nathan and Rana of their instructions, then led Rana’s borrowed horse after him to explain why they had it. He hoped the commanding officer would feel obligated to let them keep it or to replace it.

  Upon reaching the fort he dismounted and tied both sets of reins to a hitching post, then walked to the officer’s quarters. Once inside, Travis learned that the commanding officer was at Fort Harker at a meeting with other post commanders. To the officer left in charge, he explained the trouble on the trail and turned over the personal possessions of their attackers to provide clues to the deserters’ identities. The man was annoyed by the purpose of Travis’s visit, for it meant reports to officials and letters to the deserters’ homes. He called in one of his men, a corporal, and told him to locate a horse that Travis could buy at a reasonable price. Then he thanked Travis insincerely and dismissed him. As Travis left with the dusty corporal, he heard the officer in charge grumbling to himself about too much work, not enough pay, and several other disadvantages to Army life in the West.