Sweet Savage Heart (10 page)

Travis wished Lone Wolf would settle this matter tonight, so he and Nathan could carry out their part of the bargain and be gone before any Hunkpapa warriors came to visit. Maybe he had been a fool to let Nathan come here with him, for Nathan could become entrapped along with him if things went badly. If Lone Wolf and the Oglalas discovered why he had left this territory years ago and what his—

“Loyacin sni he, Wanbli Ska?”
Wild Wind breathily asked, inquiring if he were still hungry and startling the dreamy Travis into reflexive action.

In a blurred instant, Travis was on his feet, crouching and holding a knife that had appeared in his left hand seemingly from nowhere. Poised for an enemy’s attack, he saw Wild Wind inhale sharply and back away, her alert eyes never leaving his and her stance preparing to defend herself. Travis instantly relaxed and smiled. He replaced the knife in its sheath beneath his left pant leg. “I did not hear you enter, Wild Wind. You move as silently as the stalking cat… or as nimbly as a skilled warrior. Your eyes and instincts are sharp. You have watched and trained well. No foe would be safe around you.

Wild Wind had observed how rapidly and agilely the man had moved. She had intentionally sneaked up on him and she now realized that if his instincts had not been dulled by deep worry over some matter, he would have detected her stealthy approach. She had been wrong earlier, for he was indeed armed. By not blindly lunging at her, which she had desired, he had revealed self-control and the ability to rapidly assess a situation. She had hoped he would react foolishly and cause her to drop the food he had demanded she get for him. Yet when their eyes had fused, she had unconsciously clutched the containers to avoid dropping them and looking clumsy. Reluctantly, she was impressed by his show of superior training and pleased by his flattering remarks. She knelt beside his fire without commenting, retrieved a small wooden platter, and served his food, then handed him a bag with fresh water.

“Pilamaya,”
he thanked her as he accepted the meal and drink.

“A warrior should not lower his guard so completely, White Eagle. If a lowly female can sneak up on you, how are you safe in the forests? Have you forgotten your warrior’s training in the white man’s world?”

Travis was amused by the heavy sweetness in her voice and expression. “I saw no need to be on guard in Lone Wolf’s tepee and camp. Surely no enemy would dare invade them. As for you, Wild Wind,” he ventured slowly and evocatively as his mocking gaze swept over her, “there is nothing lowly about the daughter of Soaring Hawk and the sister of Lone Wolf. You value yourself too little. You should work hard to prove that others are wrong about you,” he mirthfully suggested, smugly assuming that his distracting thoughts had allowed her to sneak up on him.

“I can be nothing less than Wild Wind. If others think false thoughts of me, it is a flaw in their minds and hearts,
and Wild Wind will not waste time correcting foolish people. Perhaps White Eagle should work hard to prove that Wild Wind is wrong about him,” she retorted slyly.

Disconcerting green eyes leveled on the girl who was sitting across the fire from him and waiting for him to complete his meal before she ate, as was the Indian custom. He continued to eat slowly, without taking his eyes from her face. He noticed her cheeks pinken, but she refused to lower her gaze demurely. Her eyes were bright and startlingly direct, as her words had been. In a lazy voice that carried undertones of mischief, he inquired, “What if Wild Wind is not wrong about me? And what if she receives only the actions she provokes?”

Still she refused to pull her stormy gaze from his taunting one.
“Ota wayata he?Inipi he?”
she asked as he halted to stare at her.

“Yes, I had enough to eat; and I am full,” he roguishly replied. “It was very good. Please thank your friend for me. You did not answer before. Can Wild Wind cook and tend a tepee?”

Wild Wind glared at him. She was not hungry, but she ate to prevent him from thinking he had stolen her appetite. When she was finished, she cleared their platters and washed them. She wondered why this disconcerting man vacillated back and forth between insults and apologies. What crafty game was he playing with her? She set the earthenware bowl containing Lone Wolf’s meal on the flat rocks that encased the fire. She hung the water bag on a side pole. To dispel the unnerving silence in the tepee, she remarked as she worked, “The council meeting runs long. What news did you bring to my people? Why did you not attend?”

“You know it is not permitted for a guest to sit in Oglala council. I promised your brother I would not speak of such matters to anyone. We must wait to hear their vote, and obey it with honor.”

Wild Wind observed Travis Kincade. If he had lived in this area, she would have heard of him or seen him before. If he were a friend, why had he never visited them? she wondered. He knew the Lakota customs and laws, and he spoke of them with respect and loyalty. Yet he looked and sounded concerned by the length of the meeting. “Is it good or bad that the council talks long?” she probed curiously.

Travis glanced over at her and shrugged.
“Slolwaye sni,”
he admitted, telling her he did not know.
“Unkomani kte,”
he added, asking her to take a walk.

“Tell me why you come and worry, White Eagle, and I will go.”

Travis chuckled and shook his head before remarking, “You are too clever and perceptive for such a young woman, Wild Wind. I worry because the council’s decision is important to many people. Ask me nothing more. Soon you will know all.”

She did not heed his request. “Important to White Eagle?”

“Yes, because it is important to someone I love and respect, and to the survival of my Lakota people,” he responded mysteriously. “Do you know anything about the white man’s guns?” he questioned as he pointed to his pistols and rifle on a buffalo mat. When she shook her head, he commanded sternly, “Then do not touch them. They are dangerous. They can injure or slay a careless or nosy whirlwind.”

“Do they carry great magic like the warrior’s weapons?” she asked, knowing it was wrong for a woman to touch a man’s weapons and ceremonial items, especially during her monthly flow.

“Their magic lies in their owner’s skill and use of them, nothing more. I will return later. I need fresh air and movement.”

As Travis headed for the entrance, she called out, “Do
you wish me to go?” She wanted more information and decided that a woman’s soft hand could pick him better than a wildcat’s claws.

Travis glanced over his shoulder and replied, “If you like.” He saw her expression change and knew that was not the right answer for this vixen. “It’s nearly dark. As I look more white than Indian and many in your camp do not know of me, perhaps it is wiser and safer for Lone Wolf’s guest if you walk beside him.” He ducked and left, eager to see if she would swallow his bait and join him. Recognizing that there indeed was truth in his conniving words, he walked slowly and cautiously.

“The meeting lodge holds secrets and dangers this moon. The council speaks in whispers. It is not good,” she concluded worriedly as she caught up with his lengthy strides.

Travis furtively eyed her. He could tell from her increased respiration and the tightness around her eyes that she felt intimidated by him and that meeting. She shuddered, suddenly looking very vulnerable and afraid. That unexpected insight warmed him. To distract her, he rashly questioned her past and memory. “Lone Wolf told me you have been his sister for ten winters. He did not explain how a captive white child became the honored daughter of Soaring Hawk.”

Wild Wind halted and looked at him strangely. “Why would my brother speak of such matters to White Eagle? I do not know from where you ride or why I have not heard of you. Why do you question me?”

“Is there some evil secret to your capture and adoption?” His crafty response worked, for it kept the conversation on her. “Most prisoners hate their captors, but you do not hate the Oglalas. Why?”

“Oglalas did not murder my family and capture me,” she swiftly defended them. Her gaze lifted to the moon, which would reach its fullness within a week, and that
sight seemed to panic her. She began to talk dreamily, as if to force the alarm from her mind. “Kiowas killed my family and stole me. They were a cruel and fierce band and I hated them. I do not remember how long I was with them. Then, ten winters ago, Soaring Hawk raided the new Kiowa camp and rescued me. Soaring Hawk explained that the white man had driven the Kiowas from their lands and that the Kiowas were trying to invade Lakota lands. There was a violent storm and many whirlwinds filled the air with dirt. The Kiowas and their horses were blinded by the winds and sands and did not see the Oglalas attack until it was too late. The Oglalas knew of such storms and wore thin cloths over their faces. They could look out, but the sand could not come into their eyes and noses,” she related proudly.

She looked and talked as if she had drifted into a trance. “I was frightened. I tried to hide, but the sand burned my eyes and I could not see to run. Soaring Hawk found me lost in the whirling storm and took care of me. That is why he named me Wild Wind. He said the Great Spirit had come to him in a vision and had told him to take me as his daughter. His wife lived with the Great Spirit and his heart was full of sadness and pain. He ordered two Indian captives to care for Wild Wind, Lone Wolf and himself. When my father died, Lone Wolf sold the captives and Wild Wind now cares for his tepee. He is chief now and must take a wife. Soaring Hawk is gone and things are chang—Enough words of Wild Wind. Speak of White Eagle and his mission.”

Travis knew the meaning of her incomplete sentence. He pressed, “Do you remember your white family, Ra… Wild Wind? Do you know where your real mother and father lived before your capture?”

Wild Wind became nervous and angry. To stop this distressing talk, she lied, “No, I was a small child. Speak of other things. I do not wish to remember those dark
suns and moons.” She lapsed into pensive silence. Many times in her sleeping and waking dreams she had seen a strange and wicked white man who terrified and injured her. She could hear him shouting awful words at her and see him striking her, his pale face distorted by evil and cruelty, his black hair flying wildly as he jerked his head and body about in fits of pure rage. She had heard herself sobbing and pleading to go home, but he had beaten her and called her filthy names. She had heard his icy laughter fill her ears and she had covered them to close out the wicked sounds. They had to be bad dreams, not memories, for she always saw herself as a grown woman, not as a child. Those terrible dreams were so strange, for she was always wearing white man’s garments and her fiery hair was not long and thick as it was in real life and was worn differently. Many times the dreams were petrifying, for her lovely face would be swollen and bruised and bleeding. The older she became, the less the dreams filled her mind. Yet whenever she thought or spoke of the Kiowas, the bad dreams would return for many moons to torment her.

“What frightens you, Wild Wind?” Travis asked in concern.

She glared at him for his painful intrusion. “Go away. White Eagle is mean and bad.” She whirled and raced back to her tepee.

Travis waited a short time before returning to the tepee to find her sitting on her sleeping mat, pretending to be beading a pair of moccasins. When he heard a quiet sniffle and saw her inhale raggedly, he walked to her and dropped to his knees. Lifting her chin, he stared into misty blue eyes filled with anguish. As a tear escaped to roll down one cheek, she tried to free herself from his firm but gentle grasp. He could tell she did not like exposing such deep feelings or a loss of control. He wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her, then
cover her face with kisses. He wanted to make love to this half-wild vixen, this part-woman, part-child creature, yet he dared not respond to such tempting hunger. “Do not cry, Wild Wind. I will speak no more of such days of pain and fear. You are very brave and special. Your people must love and respect you greatly. Do not be sad,” he entreated, for her pain had had an overwhelming effect on him.

She watched him master the urge to lean forward to kiss her, and oddly she was sorry he had found the strength to do so. He was a man of many emotions and sides, a man of great prowess. Only a man of enormous strength would have the power and courage to reveal tenderness, as tenderness was a strength of its own that few men possessed. She could tell that it was difficult for him to expose such feelings, for the look in his grass green eyes told her that he had once known much suffering. As an Indian, he had been raised to master his emotions and to depend on himself for survival. Obviously he had left the Lakota world, and she wondered when and why. He was a new man, but the old one had not died easily or fully. She wondered which part of him he wished to slay, the Indian or the white, for surely those bloods warred fiercely within him, as they did with her sometimes. It was terrible to be torn between two lands and two peoples, to be neither accepted nor rejected by either. Her gaze seemed to mesmerize him. He appeared capable of experiencing powerful emotions and seemed vulnerable to certain forces, though it was obvious he fought to conceal and control such traits. She liked these impressions, and she liked him when he was this man.

“Tanyan amaye, Wanbli Ska. Pilamaya.”
She softly explained that she felt better and surprisingly thanked him as if it were because of him.

He smiled.
“Ohan.
“He went to the buffalo mat she had
spread out for him, for it was very late, and mused silently, Yes, it was “good”…

Wild Wind watched him lie down in his garments and moccasins, his back to her because of the angle at which she had placed his mat. Putting aside her beading, she checked the fire. She added small hunks of wood, mostly knots, for they would burn slowly and give off enough light to chase the darkness and ghosts from the tepee. Then she removed her moccasins and, leaving on her garments, reclined on her sleeping mat. She closed her eyes to envision White Eagle’s face, in order to study and admire it. Gradually she allowed herself to drift into light slumber.