Savage Winter (14 page)

Joanna saw the amusement in She Who Heals’s eyes. “High for some is no more than the lower branches of a tree to others, Red Bird. I will believe you are the wife of our chief when I see you installed in his lodge. It has not escaped my notice that Windhawk has not yet come to you,” She Who Heals stated in amusement.

Red Bird’s face became distorted with anger. “I notice that he has moved this white-faced one out of his lodge,” she countered. “Why would he do such a thing unless he was preparing for his marriage to me?”

Joanna turned away, unable to listen any longer. She knew that Red Bird spoke the truth, and it was like an open wound in her heart. All she could think about was returning to the tipi.

“Foolish woman,” She Who Heals said contemptuously. “What happens with Windhawk and the Flaming Hair has nothing to do with you. You are as unimportant to our chief as the dust he walks upon!”

“You will see, old woman,” Red Bird retorted heatedly, staring at Joanna’s retreating back. “I will show you all!”

Joanna was angry with herself because she had allowed Red Bird’s words to make her cry again. She walked into the tipi and almost bumped into Morning Song.

“Why are you upset, Joanna?”

“It does not matter, Morning Song. I do not want to talk about it.”

Morning Song looked at Joanna with sad eyes. “I have often seen you sad, my sister. I wish it were within my power to make you smile again.”

Joanna wiped the tears from her face and, seeing tears in Morning Song’s eyes, hugged her tightly. “Do not cry for me, little sister…just be my friend.”

Morning Song smiled. “I have always been your friend; nothing could ever change that.”

Joanna closed her eyes. Sometimes she wished she had Windhawk’s sister’s outlook on life. Morning Song always seemed to accept that which she couldn’t change. Joanna realized she would never be Windhawk’s woman again—why couldn’t she just accept that fact in her heart?

“No matter what happens, Morning Song, you will always be my little sister.”

“Joanna, if only you could see Windhawk’s eyes when he looks at you. He loves you; I have seen this many times. How can you doubt it?”

“I think you see only what you want to see.”

“I think you do not see what is before your eyes.”

“Whatever we say here does not change anything, Morning Song. I am no longer Windhawk’s wife. We no longer share the same lodge. How do you explain that?”

“I think you and my brother should talk to each other. It is not good to have all these bad feelings between you when you love each other so much.”

Joanna knew it would do no good to tell Morning Song that she and Windhawk no longer had anything to say to each other. The time for talking to each other had passed!

The time passed, and soon it was only three days before the Blackfoot were to move to their winter campsite.

Joanna knew that She Who Heals had gone into the mountains on one of her excursions, and she began to worry because she hadn’t returned. Everyone was busy packing so they could leave. Joanna knew that She Who Heals would be aware it was time to move, so why hadn’t she come back?

Joanna was helping Windhawk’s mother pack her belongings, and even though Sun Woman had told Joanna not to worry about She Who Heals, she couldn’t help but be concerned. Several times she had gone to She Who Heals’s tipi to see if she had returned.

It was just after sundown when she entered the medicine woman’s tipi, thinking that if she still wasn’t there a search party should be sent out to find her. The inside of her tipi was in darkness, and in the dim half-light coming from the opening, Joanna could see She Who Heals lying on her mat.

Dropping down to her knees, she took the old woman’s hand in hers. “She Who Heals, where have you been? I was so worried about you.”

“I went into the mountains, and before I could return this weakness came upon me. It took me a long time to make my way home,” the old woman said in a feeble voice.

Joanna placed her hand on She Who Heals’s brow and found it hot to the touch. “You are burning up with fever! Why didn’t you let me know you were ill?”

The medicine woman’s eyes fastened on Joanna. “I do not want to be a bother. I have been ill before, and this, too, will pass.”

“I’m going to stay with you and take care of you,” Joanna said, moving to the cook-fire. When she lit the fire, she could
see how ashen She Who Heals looked. “I am very angry that you didn’t come straight to me when you got back to the village. Did you not know I would want to care for you?”

She Who Heals turned her face away. “There is nothing you can do that will help me.”

“I do not believe that. I will never forget when you saved my life, and I would now be blind had you not taken care of me.”

Joanna poured some water into a wooden bowl and held it to She Who Heals’s lips so she could take a drink. Seeing the look of pain in the old woman’s eyes, Joanna moved to the opening of the tipi, realizing she would need Sun Woman’s help.

Sun Woman and Joanna took turns bathing She Who Heals’s face to bring her fever down. When the sun came up, it was apparent to them both that the medicine woman had not improved. Joanna feared She Who Heals would be unable to leave with the rest of the tribe when it was time to move, if she didn’t get well soon.

Joanna stayed with She Who Heals for the next three days. By now, she realized the old medicine woman was gravely ill, because, instead of improving, she seemed to grow weaker, and Joanna had to force her to take nourishment.

Joanna sat beside her now, bathing her face with cool water. The old eyes that held so much wisdom were fever-bright as they rested on Joanna’s face.

“You are so good to me, Flaming Hair,” She Who Heals said in a weak voice.

“Shh, do not talk…save your strength so you can get well,” Joanna urged her.

She Who Heals tried to sit up, but Joanna put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “You must rest—you know you are very ill.”

“The others are moving to the winter camp. I can hear them disassembling the tipis and lodges,” She Who Heals said in a faint voice.

“It is nothing for you to be concerned with. I will stay with you until you are recovered.”

This seemed to calm the old woman, and she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Joanna held the gnarled old hand in hers, remembering a time when these hands had nursed her with such tenderness. Joanna knew she would never leave She Who Heals. She would stay with her until she was well enough to travel.

It was a hot day, and there was very little air in She Who Heals’s tipi. Joanna placed a cool rag on the old woman’s face and pushed back the flaps to allow the breeze to penetrate inside.

There was much activity going on outside. The people were now loading their belongings onto the backs of their horses. Joanna knew that within a few hours there would be little sign that the Blackfoot had lived there.

She decided to take advantage of the time She Who Heals slept to get a breath of fresh air. Walking outside, she coughed because the dust kicked up from the departing horses choked her.

Joanna noticed that Sun Woman was tying her folded tipi onto a travois, so she walked over to help her. “I see that you are ready to leave, my mother,” Joanna said, as she tied one of the rawhide strips that attached the travois to the horse.

Sun Woman nodded. “I have packed your belongings for you, my daughter. The crazy trapper will bring your horse in from the pasture.”

“I cannot leave with you, my mother. As you know, She Who Heals is much too ill to travel at this time, and I will not go without her.”

“Windhawk will not like it if you stay behind,” Sun Woman warned, raising her eyebrow and looking very like her son at that moment.

“I no longer have to answer to your son. I am staying here because She Who Heals needs me. Would you have me abandon her?”

Sun Woman placed her hand on Joanna’s arm. “No, you cannot do that. I would stay with you, but I must see that our belongings are safely transported to the winter camp. I will have Morning Song stay with you. Perhaps, She Who Heals can travel soon, and you can bring her on a travois. I will ask the crazy old man to stay with you, also.”

Joanna hugged Sun Woman tightly. “Thank you for understanding. You remember the time She Who Heals once helped me when I was ill; I can do no less than stay with her now that she needs me.”

Sun Woman looked at Joanna. “You have a caring heart, my daughter. It is wrong that you cannot have pity for what my son is suffering.”

This was the first time that Sun Woman had made any reference to the trouble between Joanna and Windhawk, and it took Joanna off guard for the moment. “I would expect you to be on your son’s side in this, my mother, but I cannot see that he is suffering. If he is…let him turn to Red Bird. I am sure she will bring him comfort!”

“That one,” Sun Woman said in a contemptuous voice. “She is not the one to bring my son happiness. She is selfish and deceitful. I am told by both Gray Fox’s wives that they will be glad when that woman is gone. They say she does nothing but complain.”

“I can remember a time when you felt much the same way about me,” Joanna reminded Sun Woman. “Perhaps you will come to love Red Bird.”

Sun Woman’s eyes misted. “I was wrong about you, Joanna. I love you, my daughter, and I feel your pain as well as Windhawk’s. The time will come when the two of you will put your differences aside.”

“I must return to She Who Heals,” Joanna said, quickly changing the subject. She wasn’t ready to discuss Windhawk with his mother. Hugging Sun Woman tightly, Joanna turned to leave. “Have a safe journey, my mother. We will see you as soon as She Who Heals is well enough to travel.”

Later that day, Joanna and Morning Song watched until the last horse had crossed the river. When the distant dust cloud settled, Joanna felt a deep, bone-chilling loneliness. If she had gone with the others, she would be able to see Windhawk in a week’s time.

Not liking the way her mind was working, Joanna entered the tipi. She Who Heals was awake, so Joanna fed her some thin deer broth, then gave her a cool drink of water.

“Have the others all gone?” the old woman asked in a weak voice.

“All but Morning Song, Farley, and myself,” Joanna answered her.

“You should not have stayed behind for me. You should have gone with the others. It is still not too late for you to catch up with them.”

Joanna pushed the white hair from the old medicine woman’s wrinkled brow. “I am where I want to be.”

“You can lie to Windhawk, and you can lie to me, Flaming Hair, but you cannot lie to yourself. You have not stopped loving the chief, nor has he stopped loving you. Where you want to be is at his side.”

“Hush, you need to save your strength,” Joanna scolded, not wanting to talk about Windhawk.

She Who Heals looked deep into Joanna’s eyes. “My strength is all used up, like water on the sand.”

“I will not have you talking like that—you
are
going to get better!”

“You cannot hold back the wind, and you cannot prevent me from dying, Flaming Hair. My last wish before I walk the spirit world is that you will talk to Windhawk and tell him the truth about the child you carry. Give me your word you will do this for me.”

“I do not want to talk about Windhawk with you or anyone else,” Joanna insisted.

She Who Heals struggled to sit up and grabbed on to the front of Joanna’s gown. “Give me your word that you will talk to Windhawk and tell him it is his child you are carrying!”
The old medicine woman fell back on the buffalo robe and seemed to be gasping for breath. “I will see you happy before I die. You cannot deny me my last request!”

She Who Heals was in such an agitated state that Joanna could deny her nothing, for fear the old woman would make herself worse by her anxiety.

“I will tell Windhawk if I get the chance. You have my word.”

The old medicine woman closed her eyes, seeming to relax. Joanna placed her head against She Who Heals’s chest to see if she was still breathing. Her heartbeat was so faint, it could barely be heard. She knew, in that moment, that the dear, sweet woman had not long to live.

Morning Song entered, and Joanna looked up at her with sad eyes. “Watch over her. I want to go for a walk, Morning Song. If she awakens, call me.”

“I will stay beside her,” Morning Song answered.

Joanna walked in the twilight. The western sky was painted with a splash of deep purple. How quiet it now was, when only hours ago, she had heard the sound of children’s laughter, as they looked forward with excitement to moving to the winter camp. There were blackened ashes where campfires had once burned brightly. They were the only visible evidence that this had been home to many families who had laughed, loved, and lived beside the Missouri River.

She walked over to the spot where Windhawk’s lodge had stood. Here, too, all that was left were ashes from the cook-fire. Memories danced fleetingly across Joanna’s mind. Was it such a short time ago that she and Windhawk had laughed and loved together on this very spot? She knew that when the tribe reached their winter camp Windhawk would already be there. This time, he wouldn’t be waiting for her—he would be waiting for Red Bird!

There was such a dull ache deep inside Joanna’s body that she wanted to throw herself on the ground and cry out her anguish. Everything seemed to be changing, and she didn’t
know what to do to stop it. Windhawk had replaced her with another woman, and She Who Heals was dying. If she had the power to turn time backward, could she have prevented Windhawk from turning to the Piegan woman? No, she couldn’t have—any more than she could keep She Who Heals from dying.

“ ’Pears to me you been doing some heavy thinking,” Farley said, coming up beside her.

“Where have you been, Farley?” she asked, glad for the diversion from her troubled thoughts.

“I been seeing to the horses. I thought it best to tether them close to camp ’stead of leaving them in the pasture.”

“Farley, She Who Heals isn’t going to last much past tonight. She is gravely ill,” Joanna whispered, looking into the old man’s eyes.

He could hear the pain in Joanna’s voice, knowing she loved She Who Heals. “I knowed she were dying. You had a lot to bear lately, Joanna. Ifen it was within my power, I’d take some of the load off your shoulders.”

She smiled at him in spite of her grief. “You have already done that, Farley. Just stay nearby. Help me get through this night.”

Farley watched Joanna walk away, feeling a sadness deep inside. He had never known anyone who had a kinder heart than hers. She seemed to take on everyone’s problems and make them her own. He was sure people like her would get their rewards; if not in this world, then when they reached the spirit world. She was so young, but already her life had been touched by one tragedy after another.

She Who Heals was stronger than Joanna thought. A week had passed, and still the medicine woman lingered on in torment. At times Joanna wished the end would come quickly for the dear old woman, because she was in such pain.

The night was dark and silent—only a small torch was burning inside the tipi so Joanna could watch over She
Who Heals. Morning Song was lying on a buffalo robe sleeping, and Farley was bedded down outside, near enough to hear Joanna should she call out to him.

It was unbearably hot, and Joanna rewet the rag and applied it to She Who Heals’s forehead. As she stared down at the dear old face, hot tears came to her eyes. She picked up her gnarled hand, wishing she could transfer some of her youth and strength into She Who Heals’s body.

The old woman’s eyes snapped open, and she stared at Joanna. “I heard something. Run, Joanna, you are in danger!”

Joanna tried to soothe her, thinking she was hallucinating from the fever. “Go to sleep. There is nothing to fear, I will stay beside you.”

“No, no! You must flee!” She Who Heals said, clutching at Joanna’s hand. “There is danger for you!”

“There is nothing to fear…Farley is just outside. He will watch over us,” Joanna said in a soothing voice.

The four young Cree warriors hid in the bushes. They were nervous and unsure of themselves, since this was their first raid. They had been watching the deserted camp all afternoon, waiting for the old man to fall asleep.

“How many do you think are in the tipi?” Stalking Wolf, the eldest, who seemed to be in charge, asked.

“Who can say? We saw only the white girl and the Indian maiden. There could be more. We will have no trouble slaying the white man.”

“We cannot slay the old man,” one of the young braves said. “I recognize him as the crazy one. The spirits protect him—what will we do with him?”

“If we tie him to a tree, he cannot interfere with us, and no harm will befall us if he is not hurt,” the older brave replied.