Wind Warrior Page 8

  She did love the beadwork Tall Woman was teaching her. It had taken a while to become accustomed to using a porcupine quill instead of a needle. If she had her sewing basket from home, she would give it to Tall Woman as a gift.

  Her pouch was almost full; she just needed to pick a few more berries, and then she could quit for the day. Her search took her close to the cliffs, which she usually avoided because the drop-off was so steep, and it was a long way to the bottom.

  Going down on her knees, Rain Song looked under the bush and saw several plump ripe berries near the cliff’s edge. Moving forward cautiously, she reached as far as she could. She was within inches of her goal when she felt someone come up behind her.

  “Here,” Spotted Flower said, bending down beside her, “let me help you reach those. My arms are longer than yours.”

  Rain Song was surprised Spotted Flower would offer to help her. She felt the other girl’s hand against the middle of her back, and was unprepared when Spotted Flower gave her a hard shove. Berries scattered everywhere and Rain Song fell forward, her face hanging over the cliff. She clawed at the vines that hung over the edge, trying to save herself, but a second shove sent her careening over the side.

  It had happened so suddenly, Rain Song had no time to save herself. The face that flashed through her mind was that of Tall Woman, who would grieve terribly if she lost a second daughter. In that moment, Rain Song knew she thought of Tall Woman as her mother.

  Suddenly her foot caught on a protruding root and it slowed her descent. She grabbed for a bush growing on a thin ledge, praying it was strong enough to stop her fall.

  It did, but the sudden jolt painfully wrenched her arms.

  Feeling the bush coming out by its roots, she clung to a small sapling, but it tore out of the ground too, so she grabbed another thick bush.

  Slowly Rain Song moved her body forward and placed one foot on a small ledge, taking some of the pressure off the bush. Drawing in a deep breath, she eased her other foot forward. The ledge was just wide enough for her to stand on, and she prayed her weight would not cause it to give way.

  Trembling with fear, she pressed her face against the cliff, fearing to move, yet fearing to remain. After a moment she grew brave enough to glance down and wished she hadn’t. It was at least twenty feet to the bottom, and there were jagged rocks below. If she had not caught herself, she would be dead.

  Voices called down to her and she heard Tall Woman’s frantic cry. “My daughter, stay where you are. Do not move until I get someone to help us.”

  “Please hurry, my mother.”

  Rain Song felt a piece of the cliff crumble beneath her feet, so she leaned heavily against the cliff face, hoping to take some of her weight off the ledge.

  The wind stopped blowing and the sun beat down on her unmercifully. Seeing blood on her hands, Rain Song realized the shrub that had saved her life had thorns as sharp as needles.

  She felt so alone. So frightened.

  “My mother?” she called out in a shaky voice.

  “I am here. I will not leave you. Help is on the way.”

  In a short time she heard a man’s voice, and a braided rope was tossed over the side. “Rain Song, I am coming down to you. Remain calm. I will save you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. It was Wind Warrior. She was going to live.

  As he descended, she began to panic. “Wind Warrior, the cliff will not hold us both. You must be careful. I do not want you to fall.”

  By now he was even with her and gave her an encouraging smile. “That is not a concern. Two Moons’s horse is on the other end of this rope. Come to me and he will gradually lower us to the bottom of the canyon.”

  “I…am afraid.”

  His dark eyes perused her face. “Do you think I would allow anything to happen to you?” He shook his head. “I would give my life to save you.”

  She looked into those intense eyes and knew he spoke the truth.

  Wind Warrior held one arm out to her. “Come toward me slowly.”

  She would have to let go her hold on the bush to reach out to him, and that took a lot of courage.

  He saw her hesitate. “Trust me, Rain Song.”

  Closing her eyes, she reached out to him. She felt his strong arm clasp her about the waist, and he brought her against his body. Looking into his eyes, she knew she was safe.

  “Lower us slowly,” he called up to his friend.

  Rain Song buried her face against Wind Warrior’s shoulder and closed her eyes. In no time at all, her feet touched solid ground, and Wind Warrior released the rope, but he did not let go of her immediately. Both arms tightened about her and he said close to her ear, “Never frighten me like that again, my soul.” His lips skimmed her ear. “When I heard what had happened, I was afraid I wouldn’t reach you in time.”

  A sensation like warm honey poured through Rain Song’s body. She wanted to remain in Wind Warrior’s arms forever, and she pressed her innocent body against his.

  He released her abruptly and stepped back. “No, I cannot let this happen,” he said, taking a deep, ragged breath.

  Rain Song’s cheeks flushed at his rejection of her, and she was ashamed of her bold actions.

  Wind Warrior frowned when he saw the blood on her doeskin gown. “Where are you hurt?”

  She clasped her hands behind her and tilted her chin at a proud angle. “It is nothing that need concern you.”

  He took her arm and pulled her resisting hands forward. “Everything about you concerns me.” He clasped her hands in his, unmindful of the blood. “I regret I have nothing to wrap them with,” he said, studying her wounds. “You have been brave, Rain Song.”

  She did not see it that way. “I was terrified.”

  “Even the bravest warrior knows fear, little one.”

  Wind Warrior had already learned that Spotted Flower had shoved Rain Song over the cliff. But he now tested Rain Song to see if she would accuse the other girl. “Why did you venture so near the edge of the cliff?” he asked, watching her carefully.

  Rain Song paused for a moment, her jaw jutting out stubbornly and her eyes sparkling with anger. Spotted Flower had deliberately shoved her, but she would deal with the girl in her own way. “It was careless of me,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “I will be more careful in the future.”

  His heart softened. She was so easy for him to read—she would rather make herself look careless than place the blame where it belonged. Gently, he took her by the elbow. “Do you feel like climbing back up the cliff? I know of a path and it is not too steep.”

  “I can do it.”

  Wind Warrior stared at her for a moment, and Rain Song felt her cheeks flush.

  “Rain Song, I want you to know if you are ever in trouble, you must come to me.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise and then she smiled. “If I ever fall off a cliff again, I will call out for you.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot take another scare like this one. I feared that the ledge would crumble before I could reach you, and you would be lost to me forever.”

  She ducked her head in confusion. What did he mean? Wind Warrior had already turned away, so she followed him up the steep path that twisted and turned along the sides of the canyon. When the terrain became rough, he took her arm to guide her.

  As they reached the top, Tall Woman hurried to Rain Song. “I was so afraid for you.”

  Wind Warrior nodded to the chief’s wife and then moved toward the village, but turned back to say, “Your daughter has courage.” He noticed Spotted Flower cringing behind a tree trunk, and she moved away quickly when she saw he was staring at her.

  Rain Song watched Wind Warrior leave. He carried himself straight and tall, and he was so very appealing. Once more he had come to her rescue.

  As if he sensed her gaze on him, he turned and stopped. For a long moment, he looked at her. Even after he had gone, her heart still thundered inside her.

  Rain Song waited until the village was quiet
before she went to Spotted Flower’s tipi. She was still shaking with anger as she called out. “May I enter?” she asked, determined to end this trouble that had been building between them for a very long time.

  “Go away. I have nothing to say to you.”

  Rain Song shoved the tipi flap aside and entered. She was glad Charging Bull was not there, but his first wife, Yellow Bird, was, and the woman watched her with interest as she stalked directly to Spotted Flower, her anger apparent in her quick steps.

  “You pushed me.”

  Spotted Flower’s eyes opened in surprise, and she took a step backward, coming up against the lodge pole. “You do not know that for sure.”

  “I know and you know.”

  “What does it matter?” Spotted Flower said furiously, her gaze slyly sliding toward the tipi opening. “Did not Wind Warrior himself rescue you? Nothing goes wrong for you, while nothing goes right for me.”

  “That does not excuse what you did. If you ever touch me again, I will speak of your treachery to anyone who will listen and you will know shame. I have tried to be your friend, but you do not know how to accept friendship.”

  Rain Song stepped closer to Spotted Flower and slammed her fist into the woman’s stomach. When Spotted Flower moaned and dropped to the ground, Rain Song stared at her. “You are a miserable person. I do not want you for my friend.”

  Yellow Bird giggled. “Hit her again. I always do.”

  Turning, Rain Song stalked out of the tipi and headed toward home.

  Home?

  When had Tall Woman’s tipi become home?

  That thought frightened her. She was falling into the trap she had promised herself she would avoid.

  I am not Blackfoot!

  I am white!

  That night as Rain Song lay on her mat, she remembered the feel of Wind Warrior’s arms around her. She shivered with delight as she remembered the words he had said to her. No different from the other maidens in the village, she had fallen under Wind Warrior’s spell.

  Her young heart yearned for him. And her mind fought against it. “I am Marianna Bryant. My home is Fort Benton.”

  The next morning the sun peeked out from behind dark clouds and bathed the land in its warmth. By midmorning a heady breeze scattered the clouds toward the mountains.

  Rain Song bent to fill a water jug and hoisted it on her shoulders. She hadn’t slept well because she couldn’t stop thinking about Wind Warrior, and when she did fall asleep, she dreamed about him.

  “I see you have no lasting ill effects from your fall.”

  She whirled around to find Wind Warrior standing behind her. Rain Song found she was shy with him and was having trouble meeting his gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw he carried a small pup in his arms.

  She melted when she looked into the animal’s soft golden eyes. Reaching out, she gently rubbed the puppy’s ear. “Is this your dog?” She met Wind Warrior’s dark gaze. “He is not very old, is he?”

  He took the water jug from Rain Song with one hand while he handed the animal to her. “It is a female, and not a dog, but a wolf cub. The mother died, as did her other cubs.”

  Rain Song’s heart ached for the motherless animal. She nestled it in her arms and it seemed to press against her. “Oh, what a sweet creature you are.” She rubbed its padded foot. “And all alone in the world.”

  “She is not alone if you will accept her.”

  Rain Song’s mouth flew open and there was hope in her voice. “If only I could.” She shook her head. “I do not think Broken Lance would allow me to have a wolf cub,” she said wistfully.

  Wind Warrior watched her gentleness with the cub. “I have already spoken to Broken Lance and he has agreed you may keep her.”

  “Oh!” Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she buried her face in the soft fur, cuddling the cub close. “Sweet little orphan—we are both without parents. We will have to look after each other.”

  Wind Warrior watched her smiling, glad that she liked his gift. He nodded, indicating that they should walk together.

  “There are some things you must understand. A wolf is a wild animal, and belongs to nature. You can be her custodian for a while, but the time may come when she will leave you to seek her own kind.”

  Rain Song met his gaze and found him smiling at her—her heartbeat bumped up a notch. “For as long as she will remain with me, I shall love her.”

  Wind Warrior saw the bruises on her face caused by her mishap the day before. He wanted to touch her, to assure her he would be watching her enemies. But he did not.

  “Wolves are known for their loyalty,” he told her. “They mate for life, and care for their cubs for years after they are grown. When this one is a little older, she will become your protector—for now you must be hers.”

  Rain Song raised tear-bright eyes to him. “It seems I am always thanking you. Thank you for this precious gift.”

  Today she wore her golden hair loose and it shimmered in the sun. Her lovely young face was turned up to his, and there was such trust in her green eyes that he was overcome with tenderness and longing. She touched a place in him that no other had ever found. “I call her Chinook—she is one season old. You can give her another name if you would like.”

  “Chinook, strong wind. I like it.”

  Wind Warrior reached over and touched the wolf’s head. “I left food for her with Tall Woman. Take care of Chinook and she will take care of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He studied her face for a moment, with seemingly curious detachment, and then he looked away, his gaze tracing the far mountains.

  “People say you most often live in the mountains, but since I have known you, you are usually here in the village. Will you soon be returning to the mountains?”

  He thought of Dull Knife, who also was spending a lot of time in the village. Wind Warrior did not trust his brother around Rain Song, even though she had the protection of the chief. “No, I will not be returning just yet.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Two Years Later

  Unlike the white race, the Blackfoot calculated the passing of time by the changing seasons. They did not measure hours by a clock, but by the amount of work accomplished in one day.

  Since Rain Song had been a captive, spring had come around three times; she was now in her sixteenth year. She had no knowledge of calendar dates, and her birthdays had passed without her knowing. By her calculations, the year was 1863.

  Rumors reached them that a great war had erupted in the white man’s world; only this time they were fighting each other. But that world seemed far away to Rain Song. Certainly the Blackfoot took no interest in the white man’s squabbles.

  Rain Song tried to imagine what her aunt and uncle were doing. She realized they would have long ago given her up for dead.

  Glancing at her stained hands, she shrugged and continued to grind the berries that she would later mix with nuts and dried meat to make pemmican. She worked silently beside Tall Woman, whose belly was swollen with child. Rain Song noticed Tall Woman tired easily these days and she tried to do most of the heavy work so her mother could rest.

  She had grown to love Tall Woman, and had even developed respect for Broken Lance, although he still made her nervous. He seldom spoke to her, and that was fine with her. On the occasions that he turned his dark gaze on Rain Song, she cringed inside, thinking he still disapproved of her.

  “Would you like a son or daughter?” Rain Song asked, pausing in her work.

  Tall Woman touched her belly. “I would like to give my husband a son, I already have a daughter.”

  “What was she like, your daughter who died?”

  “Although she was nothing like you in appearance, you remind me of Blue Dawn. She was kind and gentle and I loved her.”

  Chinook lay at Rain Song’s feet, contented to be near her. No longer did Rain Song feel the deepseated loneliness that had marked her early days with the Blackfoot. The wolf was like her shadow—Chinook
was always at her side, even sleeping beside her at night.

  At first Broken Lance had grumbled about sharing his tipi with a wolf, but he soon accepted Chinook. Rain Song had once seen him lay his hand on the wolf’s head, but he removed it and left the tipi when he saw she was watching him.

  “I always wanted a brother or sister.”

  “Rain Song, this child will be a gift to us all.” Tall Woman gently touched Rain Song’s cheek. “As a daughter you are a great joy to me, and you have brought happiness back into the chief’s tipi.” Tall Woman pushed a damp strand of hair off Rain Song’s forehead. “I do not know what I would do without your help. This child I carry drains my energy. You have assumed the bulk of the work, and I am grateful, and although your father has not said so, I know he appreciates your easing my burdens.”

  For reasons Rain Song didn’t understand, she wanted to win Broken Lance’s approval. But somehow she never seemed to do the right thing as far as he was concerned. In all the time she had lived in his tipi, Broken Lance had not once smiled at her, or called her by name.

  Returning to her work, she wondered what Aunt Cora was doing at the moment. Had Uncle Matt gone to war? Despite her determination not to forget her old life, many things were becoming distant memories. In the beginning Rain Song had stayed true to her vow to remember details about her life before she had become a captive. But lately she often forgot her nightly ritual of repeating her white name. The past was slipping away from her as she became more immersed in the Blackfoot way of life.

  “I have heard Spotted Flower is expecting her second child,” Tall Woman observed. “I have also heard she is not happy about it.”

  “She has reason to be unhappy. Everyone knows Charging Bull beats her,” Rain Song said, looking into Tall Woman’s eyes. “I would not want to live with a man like him.”

  “Daughter, not all Blackfoot men are like Charging Bull, just as not all white men are like the ones who killed my daughter. Spotted Flower brings much of the harm on herself. It is said she complains and rebels against her husband. I have seen for myself that she neglects her baby daughter, and Yellow Bird has taken the child as her own.”