Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance) (2 page)

"It is a long way to another's hunting grounds. If your arrow had
flown true, she could not have run so far before she halted to die. It is
wrong to make the Great Spirit's creatures suffer so much and for so
long."

Wind Dancer was astonished by her rebuke. He concluded that her
parents and people had failed to teach her respect. He did not even
want to imagine how his family and people would react to his sister if
she dared to speak to a man in this offensive manner. His wife had
never belittled, shamed, or scolded him. "My arrow missed its true
mark when I was attacked by an enemy," he said in his defense. "I
could not track the Great Spirit's creature into your people's forest until
that danger was past."

Chumani noticed that he had received no injuries from that fight,
and the fact he stood before her proclaimed him as its victor. Yet, he
did not boast of his triumph. And he mistakenly assumed she was of the Brave Heart band since this was their wintering section of the Paha
Sapa, an area upon which she also was trespassing.

"I am Waci Tate of the Red Shield band of the Oglalas," he identified
himself. "My people's winter camp is almost one sun's ride from this
place, but our hunting grounds travel closer." If she recognized his face
or name, it did not show in her now stoic expression, but he had seen
her gaze roam his face and body for bloody signs of his recent struggle
and markings of his tribal identity. He wondered if she was impressed
by the fact there were none, or if she believed he was speaking falsely
to her.

Chumani knew who the tall and muscular warrior was, but she was
the daughter of a chief and a skilled hunter and fighter in her own
right, and she did not fear him. Following a deadly attack on her people
by the Crow two seasons past, she had trained every sun to master
warrior skills and increase her stamina, strength, and wits until she could
defend herself and help protect her people. She had seen this warrior
of awesome prowess at a distance on the grasslands on several occasions
when the many bands gathered for seasonal trading. As a woman, she
had been compelled to remain at her people's chosen camp site; it was the
White Shields' way of keeping their females away from the temptation of
being drawn to and mating with outsiders, Indian and White. But she
and her best friend had sneaked near the men's location one night and
spied upon them. After Waci Tate arrived, she had been unable to look
away from him and thoughts of him had tormented her for many
moons. Now, here he stood before her, overfilled with pride and scolding
her as if she were a bad child!

As one who tried his best to practice the Four Virtues-Bravery,
Generosity, Fortitude, and Wisdom-Wind Dancer doused his hot
irritation. "If your family is hungry and you search for food, the deer
is yours," he offered.

"There are three skilled hunters in my family," Chumani responded.
"The deer is yours to take, but do not roam these hunting grounds
again. If I had known you pursued her, I would not have tried to take
her."

As she sheathed her knife and collected her bow and quiver, showing
she either trusted or had no fear of him, he nodded. "That is wise.
Now, tell me, who are you and where do your people camp?" Before
allowing her time to respond, he added, "Rest while I prepare the deer
and I will carry you to your camp on my horse. It is not safe for a
woman to walk the forest alone when enemies are restless."

Chumani's wits cleared and she realized she was behaving badly,
especially since he had offered her the doe and an escort home. Yet,
she felt compelled by shame and another unknown feeling to deceive
him. "I am called the morning mist. I know this forest and will be safe.
Grandfather's creature awaits your prayers and preparation." She wanted
to leave fast, as she, too, had unwittingly encroached upon the Brave
Hearts' territory so deep were her thoughts as she enjoyed the forest
during the rebirth of the land after a long and bitter winter.

Wind Dancer watched the stubborn female vanish into the dense
woods. She was beautiful and shapely, he admitted, but her ways were
unappealing. Yet, he experienced a strange attraction to her, more than
a physical one, and that baffled and piqued him. He walked to his kill
and knelt to thank it for its sacrifice and to praise its prowess. This was
one of the few times he had ridden alone to either hunt or battle
enemies. Usually his best friend, Red Feather, was at his side; and often,
so was his younger brother, War Eagle. He did not know why he had
wanted to travel alone on this sun, but the feeling within him had been
too great to ignore. He was glad no one else had witnessed the woman's
bad behavior, as reporting it could have caused trouble with her band
if she were mated to a great warrior, trouble he wanted to avoid at this
busy time when Mother Nature changed her face and while a large
group of men from their band was at Fort Pierre for trading. He had
not gone with them to the enclosed village which was called a fort but
was only a trading post, as he did not like or trust those with hairy
white faces, the wasicun.

As he loaded the game on his horse, his body stiffened and his mind
came to intense alert as if something warned him of imminent danger.
Perhaps, he reasoned, the enemy who had attacked him had not been traveling alone. His gaze was drawn-as if by a mystical force-toward
the direction in which the woman had disappeared, and a voice within
his head ordered him to ride quickly that way.

It did not take long for Wind Dancer to hear ominous sounds coming
from a clearing beyond him. He dismounted and told his horse, a smart
and loyal animal, to remain there. He sneaked to a location where the
woman was encircled by three Crow warriors, their identities unmistakable from their garments and markings. Anger filled him at the sight
of his enemies encroaching on Lakota hunting grounds and taunting
the beautiful creature. No doubt the daring warriors intended to take
her captive and steal her innocence. His fury increased as he saw them
darting in and out as they played a cruel game with her. There was no
way she could escape their human enclosure, though she held a knife
at the ready in her right hand and appeared agile and alert. She moved
quickly as she whirled about and slashed out with her blade to keep
the three foes at a safe distance, threatening and insulting them with
her shouts. He noticed there was no fear in her brown gaze, only sheer
hatred and coldness. She looked as though she wanted to slay them
barehanded.

The men began taking turns with their sport, one resting and laughing
while the other two continued dancing around her and thwarting her
strikes with their lance points, their clinking contacts sounding loud in
the forest's quietness. He assumed she would soon exhaust herself,
making her vulnerable to seizure and worse. With all of the stealth and
skills he could summon, Wind Dancer approached the resting man.

With a loud yell and knife brandished, the oldest son of Chief Rising
Bear leapt into the clearing and challenged his enemies, determined to
rescue the woman even at the risk of his safety and survival. He had
confidence in his prowess, for he had battled more than three foes at
a time in the past, and he still walked unharmed and alive to chant
those coups.

Wind Dancer sent his blade into the heart of the startled Crow.
Without delay, he set upon the second enemy, who charged at him like
a raging buffalo during mating season, as the woman was fighting the third with skills which both impressed and astonished him. Though he
was concerned about her safety, Wind Dancer was forced to focus his
attention on his own battle, as his larger responsibility and duty were
to his family and people as their future leader. He needed to use his
strength, and skills to best his foe, which he could not do if his thoughts
were on her.

The Oglala and Crow warriors exchanged taunting grins, both
assessing his opponent's weaknesses and strengths. They stepped sideways in a circular pattern, each seeming to await an unspoken signal
from the other to begin their struggle for victory. In the flicker of an
eye, Wind Dancer fell backward to the ground and delivered a stunning
kick into his competitor's groin, causing the man to shriek in pain,
double over for a moment, and then retreat with haste for recovery as
he himself laughed at his successful maneuver and sprang to his feet
with ease.

With lightning speed and hopes of benefiting from the man's brief
vulnerability, Wind Dancer raced forward and hurled his lowered shoulder into the man's abdomen, bringing forth a rush of air from his lungs.
As the Crow stumbled backward and gasped for air, Wind Dancer used
his knife to slice across the man's right side. His gaze flickered to the
gaping wound and he thrilled at the knowledge he had brought forth
the first-blood in what had to be a life-or-death encounter. He saw the
Crow's gaze darken and glitter with outrage and pain, then narrow in
determination that this would be his first and last injury.

Both warriors shoved with powerful bodies, kicked with nimble feet
and legs, and struck with hard fists as their battle continued at a fast
pace. They grunted and taunted and sucked in air to aid their labored
breathing as their physical conflict stirred up moist dirt, dead leaves,
and small stones. The Crow slashed out in an attempt to carve a path
across the Oglala's stomach and chest, but Wind Dancer darted to his
right and opened up another gushing red wound on the man's arm
which wielded an equally sharp weapon. Wind Dancer read fury in the
man's gaze and tried to keep his own impassive to prevent exposing his
strategy.

A few feet away, Chumani knew her edge was in a mixture of her
opponent's annoyance at being the one to battle a female while his
friend challenged an elite warrior, of his arrogance in underestimating
her skills, and of his belief he could defeat her quickly and easily. That
he could not win quickly and was receiving cuts from her blade and
blows from her left fist and feet visibly increased his vexation and made
him careless during his ensuing attacks. Her gaze never left his, as she
knew his next move and the timing of it would be revealed there first,
a lesson Fire Walker had taught her well. She also had learned that even
a brief delay in reaction could cost her her life. She kept her feet apart,
her arms and hands controlled, and her knees bent.

As the enemy lunged at her, she dodged his approach and whirled
to send her blade into his heart from behind. The Crow arched his
back, grunted, and fell to the ground, soon dead from the lethal blow.
She withdrew her knife and gazed at his body, her generous heart unable
to pray for his departing spirit after what his people had done to hers
two seasons' past. Unlike the Crow war party who had attacked her
people, she and her band did not slay women and children, even for
revenge. For every Crow warrior slain by her or another, she wondered
if he was the one who had taken the lives of her loved ones.

Chumani forced her anguish aside, retrieved her other weapons, and
hurried into the forest. She dared not take victory prizes with her or
reveal this glorious incident upon returning home or the men in her
family would refuse to allow her to leave camp alone again. To do so
was a rare action for her, but her best friend had been busy with other
chores when the urge to roam the forest had overwhelmed her.

Now she recalled how the Crow's knife had almost nicked her arm
when she was startled by Wind Dancer's sudden arrival and her brief
distraction by him. It was unlike her to lose her wits over a man and
to allow her attention to stray at a perilous moment, but, indeed the
Oglala warrior had stolen her thoughts for a time. She could not stay
to thank him, even if she should; to do so would compel him to escort
her home, and that would expose the peril she had encountered. Shielded
by trees, she paused to take one final look at him. Though annoyed with him and his unwanted assistance she could not help but admire
his looks and respect his great prowess. She frowned and scolded herself
for allowing herself to linger, then left to find her beloved Cetan and
return with him to camp before darkness blanketed the land.

Wind Dancer cautioned himself to be patient and vigilant, as a lack
of those qualities often meant defeat. Sweat glistened on his face and
dampened his garments, as the air was unusually mild for this time of
year. His breathing was ragged, but his energy was heightened by the
excitement of the battle and the coup awaiting him. He realized the
Crow's stamina was lagging. He ducked as the Crow tried to ram him
in the chest to knock him off balance. He licked his lips in anticipation
of impending triumph and with a few more clever strikes and evasions,
the man lay lifeless on the ground.

He turned to look at the woman, knowing her battle was over from
a brief glance toward her earlier, but she was gone. His keen senses
scanned the surrounding area, but he neither sighted nor heard anything
to indicate her location or direction of retreat.

Wind Dancer walked to the third slain enemy and let his ebony gaze
examine the man's injuries. The woman had fought with amazing skill,
strength, and cunning-and had won. He could not imagine why she
had sneaked away or why she had not thanked him. And she had taken
no prize of her glorious victory, which astonished him. He selected
those possessions of the slain warriors he wanted, summoned his horse,
and loaded them. He concealed the bodies of the Crow with rocks and
thick brush, a few branches in the shade still dusted with the last of
the rapidly melting snow. He did not want them found before Mother
Nature could dispose of them.

After everything was prepared for his departure, Wind Dancer left
his horse there and followed the woman's trail until it, too, vanished
as she had. Her tracks on the soft earth simply halted and no hint
remained of where she had gone-no leaves, rocks, or limbs were
overturned or moved or broken. He knelt and studied the damp surface
with confusion. His troubled mind filled with questions. Who was she?
Why had their paths crossed two times in one sun? Where had she gone? How had she vanished without leaving a trail? Was she the
"morning mist" as she had told him?