Savage Winter (22 page)

Windhawk stood up. “I will see the child now.” He knew he must see the dead child so he would have final proof of Joanna’s innocence. He despised himself because he needed that proof after what the old man had told him.

Suddenly, the tipi flap was thrown aside, and his mother entered, carrying the baby wrapped in a blanket. Her eyes
were unreadable as she walked over to him. “I went to your lodge to show you the child, but I did not find you there.”

Windhawk felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He already knew the child was his. He didn’t want to know if it had been a boy or girl. He only knew he couldn’t bring himself to look on the face of his dead baby.

“You see to the building of the funeral scaffold, my mother,” he said, moving to side-step Sun Woman. “Tell Gray Fox what you want, and he will attend to it for you,” he said, knowing he must be alone to deal with the emotions that were swelling his heart.

“First, you will look on the face of your child, my son,” his mother insisted.

His dark eyes locked with hers. “I cannot, my mother. I will not look on the dead face of…my child. Do not ask it of me.”

Sun Woman nodded for Swift Walker to leave, and when she did she turned back to her son, blocking his exit. “So, you do admit that the child is yours?”

Windhawk dropped his eyes. “Yes, have I not said so? Move out of my way!”

“No, I will not move aside, my foolish son. It is time for you to face many truths.” Sun Woman pushed the blanket aside and, in spite of himself, Windhawk’s eyes were drawn to the face of the tiny infant.

He was silent as his eyes moved over the dark hair so like his own. The child was dark-skinned, and its face was so beautiful in death that Windhawk felt tears wash down his face. As he reached out a trembling hand to touch the child, he drew back, not wanting to feel the coldness of death on his own flesh and blood. This was the child he had wanted so badly. This was the child whom he had condemned to death!

His eyes were grief-stricken as he looked at his mother. “I do not ever want to hear if this child was a boy or girl. Never, as long as you live, tell me if this child was my son or my daughter,” he said in a painful whisper.

Sun Woman whipped the covers from the child, and before
Windhawk could look away he saw that the child was naked, and that it was the son he had always wanted. An agonized cry rose from deep inside him, but he wouldn’t allow it to pass his lips. Hot, unashamed tears washed freely down his face. With a trembling hand, he reached out to touch the soft black hair on his son’s head, but he drew away, feeling overwhelming grief and guilt. How easily he had condemned his son to death last night. Even now, looking on the face of the dead child, he knew he would have made the same decision. He would never have given the order that would allow Joanna to die.

“This is my punishment,” he whispered, as his hand moved down to pick up the small limp hand of his son.

“I do not think so, my son. Though you do not deserve it, I think this child is your reward,” his mother said, smiling brightly.

Windhawk’s heart contracted when he felt the warmth of the child’s tiny hand. His son was not dead!

He picked the child up in his arms and smiled down at him through his tears. The baby stretched and opened his eyes, and Windhawk’s heart swelled with fatherly love and pride. His hands were still trembling when he raised his son to his face, feeling the soft skin against his. Unbelievable love washed through his body.

Joanna had given him a son!

Laying the baby down beside the warm fire, Windhawk examined the sturdy little body to make sure the child was perfect. Sun Woman knelt down beside him, looking like the proud grandmother she was.

“My prayers have been answered—Napi was kind. This day I have held the son of my son in my arms and watched him take his first breath.”

Windhawk could hear the pride in his mother’s voice and knew she was feeling much the same as he.

“I thought you could save but one of them?”

“When I returned from seeing you, Joanna was in constant pain, and I thought we would lose both her and the child. I
thought I would try one more time to turn the child, and I was able to do so.”

Windhawk saw the tears sparkle in his mother’s eyes. The only other times he had seen his mother cry were when his father had died and when she had thought Morning Song and Joanna had been killed. He wrapped the child up warmly and handed him to his mother.

Sun Woman watched him move across the tipi to kneel beside Joanna.

Windhawk took Joanna’s limp hand and held it to his lips. As his eyes moved over every feature of her beautiful face, he felt a tightening in his chest. Her dark lashes rested against her pale cheek, and her flaming hair fanned out about her. His eyes moved down to her breasts, which were swollen with milk to feed his son. He felt such a deep hurt, knowing how he had tormented her.

The old man had been right. Joanna hadn’t betrayed him; he was the betrayer for not believing in her. How could he have believed that white woman’s lies when he knew Joanna had always been truthful with him?

When he thought of all she had been through alone, he felt ashamed. She had been his woman to love and care for, yet he had abandoned her when she needed him most, and she had been forced to walk alone.

He knew that he would have to prove himself worthy of her before she would ever look at him with the eyes of love. Bending down, he kissed her soft lips and then stood up.

“Take care of them both, my mother,” he said, walking out into the early morning sunlight. He felt the newness of the day—it was as if everything had been reborn. He was like a man who was told he was going to die only to find he had been granted life!

The baby began to fret, and Sun Woman rocked it gently in her arms while softly crooning an old Blackfoot lullaby, feeling her heart overflow with love for the child. Soon the baby fell asleep, and she laid him beside Joanna.

Sun Woman saw that Joanna was still in a deep sleep. “Sleep well, my daughter,” she whispered. “You have walked a long way alone, but my son will see that your days are happy from now on.”

Sun Woman knew that her son would have much trouble winning Flaming Hair, but it would do him good to have to prove his worth to Joanna. Sometimes he was much too arrogant for his own good, she thought.

She felt guilty for the part she had played in sending Red Bird to her son’s lodge. Her lips curled into a smile. Red Bird would soon be sent from the chief’s lodge. Sun Woman knew Joanna would never turn to Windhawk as long as that woman was in his lodge!

Joanna held her tiny dark-skinned son in her arms, smiling at the way he cuddled up to her. She kissed his soft cheek, loving him in the very depths of her heart.

Tag took the small hand in his and looked at it in amazement. “He’s so little, Joanna,” he said in an awed voice.

Sun Woman looked over Tag’s shoulder and grinned. “He might be small, but his cry would awaken the dead.”

“May I hold him?” Tag asked hopefully, while Morning Song looked on, waiting her turn to hold her nephew.

Joanna placed the baby in his arms, and Tag smiled brightly. “I guess I never thought about the baby being a real person. It is hard for me to realize I am an uncle,” he said, looking at the long black hair that was so soft to the touch. He felt choked up and hoped he wasn’t going to cry and shame himself in front of everyone.

Windhawk had entered silently—the others were unaware that he had come into the tipi, but Joanna could feel his
presence. She gazed up at him, and their eyes locked. She couldn’t read the message in his dark eyes, but she hoped he could read the anger in hers.

He walked slowly toward Joanna, never once taking his eyes off her. “I am glad to see there is color in your cheeks this morning, Joanna,” he said.

“Have you seen my son?” she asked pointedly, in a voice that dared him to deny the child was his.

His dark eyes clouded over, and he nodded. “I saw
my
son last night.”

She raised an inquiring eyebrow, but said nothing. Watching Windhawk drop to his knees, she held her breath at the soft look that came into his eyes when he looked down at his infant son.

“He looks like you, Windhawk,” Tag said, handing the tiny infant to his father.

“This is true,” Sun Woman agreed. “This is exactly the way Windhawk looked as a baby.”

The proud smile was wiped from Windhawk’s face when he caught the frosty chill in the depths of Joanna’s violet-colored eyes.

“I will talk to Joanna alone,” he said, nodding for the others to leave.

Joanna would have liked to protest when the others began to file silently out of the tipi, one by one.

Windhawk sat down beside her and ran his finger over his son’s smooth cheek. “Our son is beautiful, Joanna. I always knew if we had a son, he would be exceptional.”

Her eyes burned with unspent anger. “Now that you have seen him, you are willing to admit that he is your son. I am sorry, Windhawk, but neither my son nor I need you now. The time for needing you has passed.”

Windhawk could hear the pain and disillusionment in her voice, and he knew she was remembering the scene she had witnessed between him and Red Bird. He knew she had every right to be angry with him and, for the first time in his life, Windhawk didn’t know what to say to erase the pain he
had caused Joanna. He wanted to reach out to her and pull her into his arms. He wished he had the courage to go down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness, but he was still too proud to beg.

“Joanna, we must talk. I know there is much hurt between us, but if we try, we can wipe it all away.”

Joanna threw back her head and met his eyes squarely. “That might be the case, Windhawk, if I wanted to talk to you, but I do not. There is nothing you would have to say that would be of interest to me.”

His dark brows met in a frown. “I will not hear this from you. I have come to move you and my son back into my lodge.”

Joanna got slowly to her feet, wondering how he dared ask such a thing of her after what she had witnessed between him and Red Bird. “Never, Windhawk! I will never live with you and Red Bird. I do not know what kind of woman you think I am, but I would have thought you knew me well enough to know I would never live with you and your…wife!” She lapsed into English. “I don’t even like you very well, Windhawk. You aren’t the man I thought you were.”

He frowned. “Red Bird is not now, nor has she ever been, my wife,” he answered her flatly in English, loving the way her eyes blazed when she was angry.

“I care not by what name you call her; you can call her your wife…or you can call her your harlot. I would die before I ever allowed you to touch me again after you have been with her!”

His face was a mask of fury. “Red Bird is nothing to me,” he said, disliking the fact that he had to defend himself when he had not touched Red Bird. “You and my son will move to my lodge where you belong, Joanna!”

“I know you cannot force me to live with you as you once did, Windhawk. I have been accepted as a Blackfoot; therefore, I do not have to live in your lodge unless I choose to—and I do not choose to!”

He nodded in agreement. “This is true, Joanna. I hoped you would come back because you wanted to.”

“You were mistaken. I can’t imagine what gave you the notion that I would want to come back to you.”

Windhawk laid the baby down and stood up. Dark eyes locked with violet eyes, and Joanna could feel her heart racing.

“Was I mistaken, Joanna?” he whispered. “Can you deny that when I touch you, you quiver inside as I do?” His hand reached out and touched her lips, and he watched her pull away.

“I will not deny or admit anything to you, Windhawk. You are no longer…my husband. I no longer have to answer to you about anything.”

His eyes softened. “I still consider that you are my wife, Joanna.” He reached up to his neck and removed the bear-claw necklace. “This belongs to you,” he said, holding it out to her.

She had never seen Windhawk acting so strangely. It was as if his dark eyes were pleading with her. “No! Never!” She turned her back to him, not wanting him to see her tears. “Do you think I will ever forget the sight of you making love to Red Bird? You are a monster!”

“Joanna, sometimes appearances can be deceiving. I give you my word that I have never taken Red Bird to my body, nor have I been with any woman but you since I first saw you. I am not the monster you believe me to be.”

She turned quickly to face him. “Do you think I will believe that after what I saw the other day? Do you take me for a fool, Windhawk?”

He saw no sign of softening in Joanna. She was strong and defiant—two qualities he had always admired in her. Those qualities would now keep her from taking what he offered her.

“I wish you would believe me, Joanna, for I speak the truth—I have never been with Red Bird. I will send her away.”

“Even if you are telling the truth, I don’t want you, Windhawk. You have killed the love I felt for you. I no longer admire you. I could never love someone I didn’t admire. As for
sending Red Bird away, I would advise you to keep her. She can help you stay warm through the cold winter.”

Windhawk’s eyes blazed, and he grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her against him. “You may not love me, Joanna, but I can make you want me!”

Joanna pushed against him, feeling real panic. Oh, yes, she thought, he could easily make her want him! Looking into his face, she felt her heart quicken as he lowered his dark head. “No, please, don’t do this, Windhawk!”

His hands moved up and down her back in a caressing motion. “Do not fight me, Joanna. Try to remember what we once were to each other.” His voice was deep and soft, and Joanna felt the pull of his magnetism.

She watched helplessly as his lips moved closer to hers, and he muffled her cry when his mouth covered hers. At first she struggled to be free of him, but soon his mouth teased and prodded hers into surrender. Joanna could feel her body tremble violently, and his hands went down to pull her tightly against him to still her quaking.

“You want me, Joanna,” he whispered huskily in her ear. “The day you die, you will still want me.”

Joanna buried her face against his soft buckskin shirt. Yes, she wanted him. Her body was a traitor to her mind. She could feel a wild sweetness spreading throughout her body at his touch.

Suddenly, she wanted to hit out at him for making her feel desire for him. Pushing herself away from him, she gave him a heated glance. “What does that prove, Windhawk? Many women desire you. Why should I be any different? I have come to know that desire is not love.”

He reached out to her. “But you want me, Joanna, and we can build on that,” he said, reaching out and touching a red-gold curl.

She backed away from him. “Tell this to Red Bird—she will listen to you—I do not want to hear anything else you have to say!” she replied, knowing that she still loved him deeply, and that, if he persisted, he could easily win her over.

He let his hand drop, knowing what he had destroyed could not be repaired in only one day. “I will wait until you are recovered from the birth of my son, then we will talk again. I am going to be away for a while—take care of my son.”

Windhawk picked up his son and kissed the sleeping child. He then handed him to Joanna. “Take care of yourself, also, Joanna,” he whispered.

Joanna watched him leave, wishing she dared call him back. She wished she were naive enough to believe all that he had told her, but she wasn’t. She believed only what she had seen with her own eyes.

The baby began to fuss, and Joanna kissed him softly on the cheek. Holding him tightly against her, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “Your father has changed his mind—he thinks he wants me now that he knows you are his son. What shall I do, my little son? Dare I leave myself open for more hurt?”

As the weeks of winter stretched on, the severe weather seemed to intensify. In spite of the cold and snow that kept most of the Blackfoot tribe close to the village, the sound of children’s laughter could be heard as they played their favorite winter games.

Joanna walked toward the river carrying a waterskin. She felt healthy and rested, and she smiled as she watched a group of children sliding down a slope on a sled they had constructed out of buffalo bones.

Her baby was now over a month old and growing stronger each day. Windhawk had ridden away the day after the birth of their son and hadn’t yet returned. Sun Woman had told Joanna that Windhawk and some of the warriors had ridden to the Northern Blackfoot country to trade for horses.

Joanna bent down to fill the waterskin from the river. Gazing downstream, she saw the Piegan woman and turned quickly away. She had seen Red Bird from a distance several times and knew she was still living in Windhawk’s lodge.
She saw the woman walking toward her and quickly got to her feet, not wanting to talk to her.

“Wait, Flaming Hair, do not leave yet. I want to speak to you.”

Joanna walked toward the village, ignoring the Piegan woman. She heard Red Bird just behind her and knew she was going to be persistent.

“I was not told that you were hard of hearing,” Red Bird challenged.

Joanna turned and gave her a scalding look. “I hear the voices of my friends. I do not listen to the Red Bird who chirps nonsense.”

“You think that you are above the rest of us because you have the white skin. Have I not seen the way you walk through the village, gathering people about you as if you were a great ruler, and they your lowly subjects?” Red Bird spat out angrily.

“Indeed. I am glad you are so observant,” Joanna said, deciding she would not be drawn into a quarrel with this horrible woman.

“It is because of you that Windhawk has gone away,” Red Bird accused.

“Is it?”

“You know it is. I have heard that he left because of you.”

“You have the ears of a snake, Red Bird—you should have been named accordingly,” Joanna countered, before turning to walk away.

Red Bird decided to try another tactic. Perhaps, if she pretended to be Flaming Hair’s friend, she would gain more information. She had never considered that the white race had very much intelligence, and she was sure this Flaming Hair would be no exception.

“I have heard that Windhawk asked you to move back into his lodge. I think we could be friends if we both lived with Windhawk.”

“Do you think so?” Joanna asked coolly. “I choose my friends carefully. You, I do not even like.”

Red Bird gritted her teeth. There was something about Flaming Hair that put her at a disadvantage. “Why did you not come back to Windhawk?”

“I am sure if you asked him, he would tell you.”

“Is it that you are jealous and do not want to share him with me?”

Joanna’s eyes flamed. “My reasons are my own. I have things to do and will not talk to you any longer.”

“I would never consider moving back in with Windhawk if I were you. He does not need a white-face wife when he has me.”

Joanna laughed in spite of the pain in her heart. “At last, we agree on something.”

“I think you realize that Windhawk would not want you if it were not for his son. I will one day give him many sons, and he will forget about you and your son,” Red Bird said spitefully.

Joanna had known two hateful and spiteful women so far in her life. Claudia had been one of them, and Red Bird was the other. At last Red Bird had struck Joanna at a vulnerable spot. She felt tears sting her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall, knowing the Piegan woman would delight in her weakness.

“Go away, troublemaker!” Sun Woman’s voice rang out. “Do not again seek out my daughter!”

Red Bird smiled smugly when she walked past Joanna. She knew she had done what she had set out to do. Flaming Hair would remember her words when she saw Windhawk again. Red Bird thought how foolish the white woman was. She couldn’t understand why Joanna refused to live with Windhawk. She herself loved him and would do anything to please him, but he would not look at her as a woman. She would yet find some way to get rid of Flaming Hair.

Sun Woman walked beside Joanna. “It does one no good to listen to the croaking of a frog. Red Bird is a jealous and spiteful woman. I have come to believe she does not always tell the truth.”

“I have known two such women in my life. One was white; the other was Red Bird. Each of them has taken from me that which I loved most in the world. It seems when they struck I had no defense against them.”

“Joanna, I want to tell you something. I hope you will understand a foolish old woman’s blunder.”

Joanna smiled. “What could you have done that could be bad, my mother?”

“It was I who sent Red Bird to Windhawk’s lodge. When he thought you were dead, he was grieving, and I thought she would bring him comfort.”