Read Savage Autumn Online

Authors: Constance O'Banyon

Savage Autumn (7 page)

“My name is Windhawk,” he answered her in a deep voice.

Joanna and Tag exchanged startled glances. Here before them stood the legendary chief of the Blood Blackfoot that Crazy Farley had told them about.

“You are the chief of the Blackfoot,” Tag spoke up.

“I am chief of the Blood Blackfoot. What is your name, little brother?”

“My name is Taggart James, but my friends call me Tag.”

“Then I shall call you Tag, as well.” Windhawk’s eyes moved to Joanna. “What is your name?” he asked her, hoping her name would be as beautiful as her face.

“I am called Joanna,” she answered him breathlessly.

“Jo-anna,” he repeated, thinking he had never heard such a strange and wondrous sounding name. He stared at her with such intensity that it touched her deeply. Joanna found she could no longer look into his expressive dark eyes. His eyes spoke to her from beyond the language barrier. She read things in the dark depths that frightened her.

“Jo-anna, I would not like you to punish your brother. Bravery should be rewarded and encouraged.”

“I…he has disobeyed me by crossing the river. He must learn discipline.”

Windhawk looked down at Tag. “Your sister is right, little brother. It is hard to know what to do. You were wrong to disobey your sister, but you were also brave. I shall leave your punishment to your sister, while I shall reward your courage.”

Windhawk motioned for Gray Fox to come to him. He spoke to him rapidly in Blackfoot language, and Gray Fox disappeared for a short time. When he returned, Tag saw that he carried a tomahawk. Windhawk took the tomahawk, and smiling, he handed it to Tag.

“I see in you a brave warrior. I give to you this tomahawk to seal our friendship.”

Tag’s eyes gleamed with excitement. He turned the weapon over, examining it carefully. It had images carved on the handle, and several feathers from a hawk had been attached to the handle with a leather strap. Tag could hardly believe that Windhawk had given him that which he desired most.

“I have nothing to give you but this knife,” he said, removing the small knife from his pocket and offering it to Windhawk.

Windhawk took the knife and slipped it into the leather belt he wore about his waist. “If we never meet again, little brother, I will remember you by this knife.”

Joanna was touched by Windhawk’s kindness. “I thank you for allowing a young boy’s dream to come true. You have made my brother very happy. I owe you a great debt which I can never repay,” she said, looking into his dark eyes which were dazzling and bright.

“I want no thanks. It is reward enough to look upon your face.” The words were spoken softly, and Joanna thought she must have misunderstood him.

“Are we allowed to leave?” she asked hurriedly, wanting to put the river between her and this man who disturbed her peace of mind so greatly.

Windhawk motioned for Gray Fox to bring her horse. He then walked beside Joanna and Tag to the river’s edge. While he was speaking to Tag, Joanna allowed her eyes to roam across his handsome face and down his muscled chest. He was magnificent! Never had she seen a man such as he. She remembered the tales Crazy Farley had told them about Windhawk. Where she had doubted their validity before, she now believed they were true. This man, Windhawk, could be nothing less than a legend. His brilliant eyes spoke to her of things she couldn’t understand.

Gray Fox handed Joanna Fosset’s reins, presenting her with a problem. If she were to mount the horse, she would show a fair amount of her petticoat. If she chose to wade across the river, she would have to raise her gown to keep from soiling it.
Windhawk seemed to sense her dilemma. She felt his hands about her waist, and she could feel their warmth through her clothing. With easy grace he lifted her onto Fosset’s back. He then plopped Tag on behind her.

“Good-by, Windhawk,” Tag said. “I’ll never forget you.”

Joanna was startled as Windhawk touched her hand, drawing her attention to his magnetic eyes. This time she saw sadness reflected in the dark depths, and it touched her heart.

“Napi will keep you from harm. It is a long journey from the white world to the Indian world. Will you make the journey, Jo-anna?”

Joanna could not understand what he was saying to her. What promise did his dark eyes ask of her? Fearing that which she could not understand, she urged Fosset forward and he plunged into the river. Once she was safely across the river, she propelled Fosset forward at a run. Her heart felt heavy, as if she had left a part of herself behind. No, she told herself, she had escaped from Windhawk’s disturbing presence. She wouldn’t ever see him again, and she was glad—wasn’t she?

When Joanna and Tag reached the wagon train, they found all the men of the camp armed and mounted.

Captain Thatcher rode up to Joanna. “Have you been harmed in any way?” he asked, looking her over.

“No, I was not harmed.”

Now that he saw Joanna was safe, Harland felt furious. “I am in charge of this wagon train, Miss James. I am angry that you would take it upon yourself to cross the river.”

“I had to find Tag.”

“I would have gotten your brother back. By your rash actions you endangered the whole wagon train. If you were one of my soldiers, I would have you court-martialed!”

Joanna raised her head, and her eyes gleamed with answering anger. “I am
not
one of your men. My brother did a very foolish thing by crossing the river, but I could do no less than go after him. My brother is
my
responsibility, not yours.”

“Everyone who signed on this train is my responsibility. You and your brother are members of this train, and as such, you
will obey all the rules from this day forward. Is that understood, Miss James?”

Joanna saw that everyone had gathered around and was witnessing her public humiliation. “I understand, Captain,” she answered, nudging her horse forward and heading for her own wagon.

Franny was overcome with relief when she saw Joanna and Tag. “Lord deliver us,” she said with tears sparkling in her eyes. “I thought I would never see either of you again.”

Joanna slid from Fosset’s back and hugged Franny tightly. “We are all right, Franny, don’t cry.”

“I don’t know where Simon is. He rode across the river searching for you.”

Joanna looked in the direction of the river and saw Simon riding across. “Look, Simon is safe,” she told Franny.

Tag shuffled his feet and avoided Joanna’s eyes. “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble, Joanna. The captain was angry with you, and it’s all my fault.”

He looked so forlorn that Joanna wanted to draw him into her arms, but she didn’t. “What you did was wrong, Tag. I hope you have learned your lesson today. You were thoughtless and rash in your actions.”

“Are you going to punish me?”

“Yes, I am afraid I must. Starting this afternoon, you will read three chapters a day in the primer.”

“But, Joanna, that will take hours.”

“Yes, it will, but it’s small enough punishment for what you did.”

Tag held the tomahawk that Windhawk had given him as if it were a fragile piece of glass. Joanna was angry with him, he thought, and with good reason. But he had gotten his tomahawk, and he had talked to Windhawk!

Joanna was weary. If one more person came by and asked her about her ordeal with the Indians, she thought she would scream. She just wanted the incident to be over and forgotten about. She felt bad that Captain Thatcher had been so angry
with her. He had been right, of course, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

She was lying on her pallet feeling sorry for herself, when Franny stuck her head in the wagon. “That nice Captain Thatcher is here to see you, Miss Joanna.”

Joanna sat up, reaching for her hairbrush. “I suppose he wants to reprimand me as he would a child,” she said, brushing the tangles from her hair.

“Like as not, he does, thus saving me the trouble,” Franny told her.

Joanna felt she had stood about all she could for one day. She could not remember a time when she had been angry with Franny, but she was angry now. “You forget whom you are speaking to, Franny. You are not my mother; you work for me.”

Franny bit her lip, feeling the sting of Joanna’s words. Joanna had never spoken to her in anger before. “I don’t forget for one moment that I held you in my arms when you was a baby, and nursed you when you was ill. If that don’t give me some rights, what does?”

Joanna saw that she had hurt Franny, and she felt terrible about it. “Forgive me, Franny. I don’t mean to take my anger out on you. It’s just that everything seems to be going wrong.”

Franny took Joanna’s hand. “My poor little girl, you have had more dumped on you in a short time than most folks do in a lifetime, and you hardly more than a baby.”

Joanna smiled. “It hasn’t been too bad, with you and Simon looking after Tag and me.”

Franny brightened. “Don’t you think that you’d best go and find out what the captain wants to see you about?”

Harland paced back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back. He couldn’t believe he had spoken to Miss James in such a high-handed manner. It was just that he had been so concerned for her safety.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” Joanna asked.

Harland turned around to face her. She was wearing a soft violet-colored gown that brought out the color of her eyes. The
campfire added sparkle to her glorious hair. She wore a guarded look, as if ready to do battle with him.

He cleared his throat. “I have come to apologize, Miss James. I was exceedingly rude to you this afternoon. I should never have reprimanded you in front of the whole train.”

“If it’s any consolation to you, I was humiliated,” Joanna said, not yet ready to forgive him.

“Your humiliation would never be a consolation to me, Miss James. I have too much regard for you to want to belittle you.”

There was such a sincere light in his blue eyes that Joanna knew that he was making an effort to gain her forgiveness.

“Many of the things you said were true, Captain. All I could think of this afternoon was my brother’s safety. I didn’t stop to weigh the consequences.”

Harland smiled. “I doubt that an armed group of soldiers could have been as effective as you were.”

“I was frightened,” she admitted.

“With good reason,” he told her. “I am informed by Crazy Farley that you were in the hands of Running Elk, chief of the Piegans, until one of Windhawk’s warriors rescued you. Is that true?”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Farley overheard some of the Indians saying that Running Elk intended to keep you as a captive. I believe we owe your freedom to the chief of the Bloods.”

“Windhawk was very kind to Tag and me.”

“I think it would be a very good idea if you stick close to your wagon until the Indians leave. I have cautioned all the other women and children to do the same.”

Joanna smiled. “Yes, I will do that.”

His eyes lingered on her face. My Lord, he thought, I am in love with her. I stand here making polite conversation and what I really want to do is take her in my arms and tell her how I feel.

“I wouldn’t say no should you offer me a cup of that coffee you have brewing on the fire,” he said instead.

Joanna laughed, and picking up the coffee pot, poured him a cup of coffee. “I’m afraid my manners are not what they should be. Had you come to my home I would have offered you some refreshments. It’s hard to know what to do when one is traveling with a wagon train.”

His eyes rested on her flaming hair. “Had I come to your home, would you have allowed me to call you by your first name?”

Joanna sat down on a camp stool. “I think, had I met you in Philadelphia, you would have been too busy with countless numbers of lovely young ladies to notice me.”

He sat down on the only other available stool. “I would have noticed you in a room filled with beautiful ladies.”

Joanna blushed in spite of herself. “I am not accustomed to receiving such compliments, Captain. I believe you are flattering me.”

“One need not use flattery when he meets a young lady as lovely as you. I spoke only the truth.”

Joanna laughed. “I suspect you say that to all the young ladies. I have noticed that you have spent a great deal of time with Claudia Maxwell. Should you not be saying these things to her?”

Harland ran his hand down the seam of his blue trousers. “I mean no disrespect to Miss Maxwell when I say I did not seek her out.” He could have said that he tried to avoid her whenever possible, but he was too much of a gentleman to malign a lady’s character.

As if talking about her made her appear, Claudia walked by.

“Captain Thatcher, I have been searching for you. You promised to take me for a walk. Have you forgotten?” Claudia gave Joanna a malicious glare before smiling sweetly at Harland.

Harland held his temper. Claudia’s appearance made it seem as if he had been less than honest with Joanna. He could see the accusation in Joanna’s eyes. He stood up, feeling trapped.

“Miss Maxwell, I do not remember saying that I would take you for a walk tonight.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a promise. You said that you didn’t want any young ladies walking about alone.”

Joanna stood up. “Good night, Captain, Claudia.”

Claudia saw the admiration in the captain’s eyes when he looked at Joanna, and her jealousy soared. “Wait, Joanna. I wanted to commend you for drawing the whole camp’s attention to yourself once more. Lord, you do have a knack for dramatics. It’s no wonder that the captain was so angry with you.

Harland looked uncomfortable. He had never cared much for Claudia, but now he was beginning to resent her. He had not been sure that Joanna had forgiven him for this afternoon, and Claudia was only making it worse.

“Come along, Miss Maxwell. I’ll see you to your wagon,” he said, knowing that he had lost ground with Joanna tonight.

Joanna watched Claudia and Captain Thatcher walk away. She had wanted to believe the things he had said to her. She liked him, and she thought he liked her as well. Was he the kind of man who needed to surround himself with many women?

Joanna thought of the darkly handsome Windhawk. She was afraid of the emotions he had awakened inside of her. Would it not be safer to think of someone like Captain Thatcher instead of the Indian, Windhawk, who seemed to tug at her heart?

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