Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance) (39 page)

Red Feather, War Eagle, and Fire Walker joined her at the base of
the high knoll after she stood and signaled to them. "Why do you smile
on such a dark sun?" she asked as the mounted men gazed at her.

War Eagle, like his companions, looked at her in confusion. "We
have saved our camp from the buffalo and our hunting party from the
Crow. We are all unharmed."

"But you have lost a brother and a good friend, Wanbli."

The three warriors looked over their shoulders, but all they viewed
were the bodies of buffaloes in various stages of butchering and a few
abandoned travois where they had been hunting and the women working
earlier. They did not sight Wind Dancer among the men who were
checking on the women for injuries and calming them.

"Follow me up the hill," Chumani almost commanded them and
headed to the top in a hurry. On its peak, she motioned toward the
grim scene beyond it where the slain Raven and two dead horses lay
upon the grass, multiple arrows protruding from their bodies.

Red Feather, his heart thudding in trepidation and his gaze wide,
spoke before the others could. "Where is my friend, my spirit brother?"
he asked as Zitkala joined them and also stared at the solemn sight.

Chumani related the grim tale and saw the men's shocked reaction
to Wind Dancer's entrapment and the mention of Sroka's name. "I
remained here and watched," she continued, "for I had no bow and
arrows to use. I could not run to help him, for there were twelve warriors
in Sroka's party. I could not hear their words, but they spoke for a
time, then took him away." She related how Raven and her husband's
horse had been slain without just cause, as if from sheer evil. She revealed
the theft of their possessions and the taking of a scalplock from Raven.
"Sroka knows the face and rank of Waci Tate and wishes to walk my
beloved amongst his people in bonds before he tortures and slays him
for all there to see. Raven's body must be recovered and placed on a
scaffold. We must prepare ourselves to go after my husband, but we
cannot go as a large band, for that is what they will expect us to do.
All must stay and guard our camp except for the five of us; we will save
him and bring him back to his people."

"How can we do so, my sister, when he will be held in the center
of their village, and he and their camp will be guarded against our
approach?"

Chumani looked at Fire Walker, her heart full of anguish and her
mind with worry. "The Great Spirit has put a plan within my head,
and I will share it with all of you later. If you must stay in camp to protect your wife, unborn child, and our parents, that will not show
weakness on your part. You are the future chief of the White Shields,
my beloved brother, and must live to become their leader."

"We have many skilled warriors amongst our two bands who can
protect our loved ones and people," Fire Walker said firmly. "I must
help save the life of the future chief of the Red Shields who is our ally
and friend, and my sister's mate. We will be victorious, for it is not his
time to walk the Ghost Trail, as he is the Vision Man; and the task
given to you and him has not been completed."

"That is true, my brother, and it is why I know we must do this
deed."

They heard riders approaching and looked in that direction to sight
a large band of their warriors with Rising Bear at their lead. They went
to join him and related the bad news of his son's capture and Raven's
vile slaying.

Chumani wasted no time in disclosing a daring rescue plan to the
Red Shield chief, who listened, considered it, and nodded agreement.
She perceived how tormented the older man was with the grim events.
"Do not worry, my second father," she said gently, "for we will save
him."

"I will pray for the Great Spirit to guide and protect you, my second
daughter. I trust your skills and wits, for Wakantanka chose you as the
Vision Woman and my son's mate. You have proven yourself worthy
of both ranks. But if it is the will of our Creator for my son to join
Him and the risks are too great to challenge, do not endanger your
life."

"I will be wise and careful, and I thank you for your good words."

Everyone returned to camp and the distressing episodes were related
again. The warriors yearned to ride after the Crow and challenge them,
but realized, from the advice of the shaman chief and council, that
would leave their camp unprotected and probably provoke Wind Dancer's slaying. Plans were made for guarding the camp and hunting party
while seasonal work was being done. The body of Raven was prepared
and placed upon a burial scaffold constructed by his fellow Sacred Bow Carriers, which also meant another man must be chosen to take his
place, as had occurred with Badger not long ago. The two fallen horses
were honored and left for nature to claim.

Supplies needed by Chumani's rescue party were gathered and loaded
on their mounts. She had War Eagle put a tether on Wind Dancer's
war horse to take with them for her husband to ride during their escape,
as that animal was the smartest, bravest, fastest, and most nimble and
loyal one he owned. On a recently tanned deerhide, she placed an old
and stained dress which for some reason she had not discarded or torn
apart to use for other purposes. She added plain and long past useful
moccasins from a friend who, strangely enough, also had not gotten rid
of them. Chumani told the woman it was the mystical workings of the
Great Spirit. The same was true for the frayed Crow blanket another
friend gave to her for tossing over her head and shoulders under which
she would stoop to aid her pretense. She secured a small pouch which
contained white ash from a past fire and pale dirt used to mix with
grease to make white paint which Hanmani had gathered for her to
whiten her dark hair, along with the crushed wooden embers to smudge
her face and arms and hands to help conceal their youthfulness. She
laid a gnarled walking stick with a smoothed branch grip atop that pile.
With all the props, she could disguise herself as an old woman and pass
with no questions asked to reach her beloved. She tied the bundle and
went to load it on her horse.

Tall Elk and Falling Rain arrived as she completed her preparations.
She looked at her worried parents, smiled, and embraced them.

Tall Elk said in an emotion-constricted voice, "Ride with eagle eyes,
the deer's speed, and the fox's cunning, my brave and generous daughter,
for we must not lose you in this way. Take this; you know how to use
it."

Chumani accepted the fieldglass which she considered great magic,
as it would help her spy on the enemy camp from far away. She knew
it was a gift from a French trapper many winters past for saving his
life, one of the few wasicun who had visited their camp and been called
a friend. She remembered how her father had made a clever game of teaching her and Fire Walker how to use and not fear the eye-glass.
She hugged him. "Your heart is good, my father, and I thank you."

"Your love for your husband is large, my daughter," Magaju said,
"but you must not endanger your life to save his unless a safe path is
opened to you."

Chumani nodded. "I will do only what I must, Mother. Watch over
Rainbow Girl while my brother rides with us. This separation will be
frightening for her with their child growing inside her. Do not allow
her to work too hard to distract herself from worries. We will both
return soon."

"We will pray for our children to return to us unharmed and alive."

Once more, Chumani exchanged hugs with her parents. The others
in her party joined her and she told her parents, "We must ride fast
while the sun gives us light, for the dark moon will offer none after the
sun sleeps."

Sees-Through-Mist stepped forward and said a prayer for the group's
safety and success. He smiled at Chumani and added, "Many challenges
and joys await you and your husband; you will both survive to meet
them, for help will come in strange forms and ways."

"I do not understand your last words, Wise One."

The elderly shaman smiled again. "They will be clear soon."

Chumani glanced at all those who gathered around to bid them
farewell and good luck. She took a deep breath and said to her companions, "We must ride, my friends; my love awaits our help." She had
meant to say her husband, but she did not correct herself. She saw
almost all of those around her smile knowingly. She looked at her hawk
and summoned him. "Come, Cetan, for you travel and work with us
this time."

"We must halt here, Dewdrops, where there is water for our horses
and trees to conceal us," Red Feather urged. "Soon the sun sleeps and
we can no longer see their tracks, for the moon wears a black face this
night. We must rest and begin our task again when the sun returns to
show us the way. Do not forget, they are less than a half-sun's ride ahead of us, and could he camped nearby. We cannot risk encountering
their lookouts in the shadows. If we are sighted or attacked, all hope
of saving Wind Dancer is lost to us."

Chumani could not dispute Red Feather's words, but she hated to stop
the journey toward her husband. She could imagine the vile treatment he
was enduring, if he still lived; and she prayed and must believe he did.
Since he had not been slain with Raven and they had not come across
his ... body, that had to mean Sroka intended to take him to their
camp. If only they knew where Sroka's band was heading, other than
in the direction from which the winter winds came, they would know
if they had a short or long ride looming before them, and they could
plan their impending actions better if they knew the camp's surrounding
terrain. She nodded in agreement with Red Feather and dismounted as
Cetan left her shoulder and perched in a tree. She tended the two horses,
nibbled on food which Zitkala forced into her hands, drank water from
the Sahiyhela River, then lay down upon her buffalo mat. She was glad
no one tried to give her words of comfort, as her mind and heart were
in no mood to hear them. She could not bear the thoughts of never
seeing her beloved husband again, never kissing and touching him again,
never hearing his voice again, never having him lie beside her and hold
her in his arms . . . never to make love to her again. She closed her eyes
as if that action would shut out such torment, but it did not appease
her anguish.

Sleep eluded her for a long time, and then came only in short spurts.
Each time she awakened, she prayed more fervently than ever to be able
to reach him in time and to be given a way to save him.

Nearby, the others also sent forth prayers for Wind Dancer's survival.

Zitkala knew how she would feel if Red Feather were taken captive.
She, too, would risk anything to save him, even her own life. She turned
her head in his direction but could not see him in the darkness, as it
was too dangerous to have a are. Yet, even lacking moonlight, she felt
safe, as Cetan and the horses would alert them if anyone approached
their location. As if Red Feather sensed her questing gaze, she felt his
hand touch hers; and she gave it to him, just as she would give herself completely to him after the buffalo season. She would tell him that
again, along with how much she loved him, when the sun rose. He
gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she returned the gesture and smiled
in happiness. After that comforting contact, she drifted off to sleep.

Wind Dancer entered the Apsaalooke camp still riding doubleback
with Two Crows and amidst great excitement from its people, as several
warriors had ridden ahead with news of his capture. They had traveled
hard and fast and used all daylight for the past two suns. They had
crossed two large rivers and reached the camp, which was situated on
Rabbit Creek, at dusk. Once more he was aware of how the number
two invaded his life.

Some of the women rushed forward to reveal their hatred and contempt of all Oglalas by either jabbing him with sticks or clawing and
pinching him with their fingernails or by spitting upon his bare legs
and moccasined feet, as he was clad only in a breechclout and leather
footwear. Some of the male youths darted forth to show their courage
by striking him on the legs or hips with open palms or balled fists.
Others yelled insults and a few tossed rocks at him. Sroka did nothing
to halt such abuses, as was his right to do; in fact, the leader foe appeared
to enjoy such vicious behavior. Despite his harsh treatment and the
stinging pains, the son of Rising Bear sat tall and proud, his expression
impassive, before his bitter enemies. He knew this was only the beginning
of the torture in store for him.

Pariskatoopa threw his leg over his horse's head and leapt to the
ground. He seized Wind Dancer by the left arm and yanked him down,
the action almost causing him to stumble and fall. He straightened
himself and locked his gaze on Sroka as the man related the bloodstirring event. He heard people mumbling words and sounds of praise
and amazement; and he, too, was astonished by his first capture. He
was bound to a large post in the center of camp with his ankles secured
snugly to it and his arms stretched behind him so tightly he wondered
if they would be pulled loose from his shoulders. He knew bruises and
welts were rising on his body, just as he felt blood oozing from cuts and scrapes to slowly roll down his sweaty flesh. He was glad his cherished
wife and people could not see him like this, and he prayed to Wakantanka
to allow him to flee or to die with honor intact.

Wind Dancer listened as Sroka told his people they could touch and
inflict small harms to him but that he must not be wounded badly or
slain; and must not be given food or water or medicine. "Does Sroka
need to weaken me before he can defeat me?" he scoffed. The man
turned and glared at him, then grinned and refuted his taunt.

"You were not denied food and water during our journey."

Wind Dancer recalled how a few scraps of dried meat were tossed
on the ground near him as if he were a dog, and how water was poured
into his open mouth from a height above him which caused most of
it to be lost in splashes over his face and neck. Yet, he had eaten and
drank to retain his strength for escape. He stared at Sroka as the man
taunted him again.