Savage Winter (26 page)

“I had heard you are leaving…I will not pretend I am sorry,” Joanna told her.

Red Bird’s eyes fastened on the face of Windhawk’s son. It was the first time she had seen the baby up close. “Yes, you have won, Flaming Hair.”

“I was not aware that you and I were in a contest—what have I won?”

Red Bird’s eyes gleamed. “You are right—it was never a contest. You had Windhawk all the time. I was never anything to him,” Red Bird admitted, knowing the Flaming Hair would soon be dead.

Joanna knew she should leave, but she wanted to hear more. “I was not the one living in Windhawk’s lodge; you were.”

The Piegan woman reached out and touched Little Hawk’s face. “I was nothing more than someone to cook and clean for Windhawk. I lied to you when I said that I had lain with him; he never touched me.” Red Bird smiled. “I wanted you to think that he and I were lovers so you would not want to be with him anymore.”

“You forget, I saw you and Windhawk in his lodge—you were undressed, and he was holding you in his arms.”

Red Bird laughed bitterly. “What you saw was me offering myself to Windhawk; what you did not see was him turning me away.”

Joanna closed her eyes, wishing with all her heart that
Red Bird was telling the truth. However, she didn’t trust the woman…if she had lied before, she could be telling a lie now. “I must get back to the village right away. It is too cold to keep Little Hawk out for very long at a time,” she said, stepping forward.

“I wonder if you would allow me to hold Windhawk’s son? Since I will never be the mother of his children, surely you will not deny me this one request.”

Joanna couldn’t stand the thought of Red Bird’s holding Little Hawk, nor did she like the way she was staring at her son with such a peculiar glint in her eyes.

“As I said, I am returning to the village.” Joanna tried to step around Red Bird, but when she did—the woman grabbed Little Hawk out of her arms!

Joanna reached for the baby, but Red Bird stepped back quickly. She froze in her tracks when the Piegan woman withdrew her knife and held it at the baby’s throat!

“I will not hesitate to kill this child if you come one step closer!” Red Bird threatened.

Joanna resisted the urge to rush forward and take her baby from Red Bird. Fearing the woman would make good her threat and harm her son if she made a sudden move in her direction, she tried to act calm. She could see the strange, eerie glow in Red Bird’s eyes and knew instantly that the woman must be mad!

“Why are you doing this?” she asked through trembling lips. “Surely you would not harm my baby!”

“I have no quarrel with this child. It is you that I will see dead.”

“I do not understand. I have never done anything to you,” Joanna said, taking a cautious step forward, thinking it would be well to keep the woman talking.

“Have you not? I offered myself to Windhawk…he spurned me! Me, the daughter of a powerful chief. All he ever thought about was you. That is why I hate you!” The woman screeched hysterically.

Joanna feared what Red Bird might do should she say the
wrong thing to her. She took another step forward, watching Red Bird’s face carefully; it was distorted with hatred and anger, and she feared more than ever for her son. Joanna realized she must try to reason with the Piegan.

“I am sure Windhawk cares for you. Why else would he allow you to stay in his lodge?”

“I know what you thought!” Red Bird cried in a loud voice. “What you thought was that Windhawk had replaced you with me. He would have no part of me!” The woman’s voice rose, and her eyes were wild. “He wanted you when he could have had me!”

Joanna realized in that moment that Red Bird was past reasoning with. She had to get Little Hawk away from her before she harmed him.

“If it were not for you, I would now be Windhawk’s wife. You have the white face and are not worthy of him. You are white!”

“Red Bird, let me have my baby, and we will talk.”

The woman looked down at Little Hawk as if she had forgotten she was holding him. The knife in her hand wavered, and she smiled maliciously. “This could have been my son. He does not look like the son of a white face.”

Joanna took another step, and Red Bird jerked the baby tighter against her. “Do not come any closer. I have told you I will kill this child!”

“Your quarrel is not with the baby but with me. Put Little Hawk down, and we will talk.”

Red Bird’s eyes fastened on Joanna’s. “Talk! What good would it do to talk to you?”

“I understand how you are feeling. I, too, was spurned by Windhawk. He no longer wants me. Was I not banished to his mother’s tipi?”

“You don’t speak the truth. If you would hold out your hand to Windhawk, he would take it. Have I not heard him call out your name in his sleep?”

“No!” Joanna cried out. It was too painful for her to hear this woman’s lies. “Windhawk did not want me anymore.
You are not telling the truth. Windhawk no longer looks at me with love. Give me my baby!”

Red Bird didn’t hear the soft moccasin footsteps that came up behind her, but Joanna saw Tag moving cautiously toward her. She wanted to cry out to her brother not to make a sudden move, lest the crazed woman harm Little Hawk.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Tag sprang forward and grabbed the baby, pushing Red Bird out of the way. Red Bird lunged at Joanna and knocked her to the ground. The two women struggled and rolled down a steep slope. Joanna grabbed the hand that held the knife and tried to wrestle the weapon out of Red Bird’s hand. It soon became apparent to Joanna that the other woman was much stronger than she was.

Red Bird pushed Joanna over on her back and straddled her, trapping her hands above her head. Joanna watched in a dreamlike state as the knife came close to her throat! She tried to call out, but the words stuck in her mouth. She felt fear like a cold hand on her heart. She was going to die, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it!

Turning her head, Joanna saw Tag hurrying down the slope toward her, but she knew he would arrive too late to save her. She had only moments to live!

Red Bird also saw Tag and laughed menacingly. “Nothing can save you, Flaming Hair. Today you will walk the spirit world.” Her laughter rang out again, and Joanna tried to get free of her grasp.

“You will die, Flaming Hair. Windhawk will not feel love for a dead woman who rots on the scaffold!”

In that moment, Joanna knew that Windhawk had never betrayed her with this woman. Was she going to die before she could tell him of her love?

Wrenching her hands away from Red Bird’s, she tried to push the knife away from her throat. She could see Tag standing helplessly behind Red Bird, and she knew he hesitated to make a move, fearing Red Bird would panic and thrust the knife into her throat.

Joanna could feel her strength waning, and the tip of the knife touched her throat. She closed her eyes, knowing the end was at hand.

Hearing a whirring sound and then a soft thud, Joanna opened her eyes to see the Piegan woman’s startled expression. There was an arrow sticking out of the woman’s chest, and Joanna watched in horror as blood ran out of Red Bird’s mouth and down the front of her doeskin dress!

Red Bird gasped and tried to speak, then fell over on the ground…dead!

Joanna was too stunned to react at first. She felt Windhawk kneeling down beside her, and she sobbed when he pulled her into his arms. She was trembling so badly she couldn’t speak. She wondered vaguely what he was doing there.

Windhawk had killed Red Bird! she thought in horror. Soft whimpering sounds were coming from Joanna’s throat as Windhawk helped her to her feet.

Joanna’s eyes were drawn back to the Piegan woman, and she could see the woman’s eyes were bulging out, and her mouth was gaping open. Shuddering, Joanna turned her face away and closed her eyes.

“You killed her—you killed Red Bird!” was all she could say.

Tag showed Joanna the baby so she would know he hadn’t been harmed. Windhawk lifted her into his arms and carried her to his horse. As they rode back to the village, Windhawk held her tightly, trying to still the tremors that shook her body.

Since Tag didn’t have his horse, he followed closely behind on foot, carrying Little Hawk in his arms, wondering why that crazy woman had tried to kill his sister.

Joanna was crying softly as Windhawk carried her into his mother’s tipi and laid her down upon the buffalo robe.

“See to her and the baby,” Windhawk told his mother. “I must take Red Bird’s body back to her people.”

Joanna didn’t even hear Windhawk leave; she was too busy checking Little Hawk to make sure he was unharmed.

Later, when Joanna had time to think, her mind was a jumble of truths and half-truths. She was no longer sure what was true. All she could think about was how closely her son had come to being harmed by the deranged Red Bird, and that she herself had come very near dying.

She had no idea how Windhawk and Tag had found her. She couldn’t even guess how Windhawk felt about having to kill Red Bird. He hadn’t spoken over two words to her before he left to take Red Bird’s body home to her village.

Sun Woman fed her some thin broth and ordered her to rest while she sat beside her, crooning softly to Little Hawk. Morning Song and Tag came to kneel beside Joanna, and she smiled weakly at them before closing her eyes.

“What happened?” she heard Sun Woman ask in a low voice.

“I am not sure,” Tag whispered. “No one but Joanna can tell us what happened.”

“I am glad Joanna and the baby are unhurt,” Morning Song said, leaning over and touching the baby’s soft face to make sure he was all right.

Joanna’s eyes opened, but they felt so heavy they drifted shut again, and she felt as if she were floating on an endless sea. Too much had happened too fast, and she didn’t want to think about it right now. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, and perhaps when she awoke tomorrow, she would find it had all been a bad dream.

Red Bird’s body had been wrapped in a buffalo robe and lashed to a travois. Windhawk mounted Puh Pom and gathered up the travois horse’s reins and rode out of the village. No one who watched his departure would miss Red Bird. There was much speculation about what had happened, but no one knew for sure.

Windhawk stared straight ahead, feeling a numbness wash over him. Today he had watched as Red Bird had tried to kill his beloved. He had felt so helpless when he had realized what was happening. He had thought he was too far away to
help Joanna and had feared she would die before he could reach her.

No one would believe him if he told them that he had been over a hundred horse-lengths away from Red Bird when he had shot his arrow. The shot had caught her in the heart, and he knew Napi must have guided his hand. He had never made such a true shot before, and he doubted that he ever would again.

If Joanna had died because of Red Bird, it would have been his fault for bringing the Piegan woman into his village. He had the urge to turn his horse around and ride back to his mother’s tipi to assure himself that Joanna was alive. Joanna had been in a state of shock when he had taken her back to the village, but he had been, too. He had wanted to cry out to her that he loved her, but he had remained silent.

A shudder shook his tall frame, and he nudged Puh Pom into a gallop. He wanted to reach the Piegan village quickly, so that he could return home. He didn’t know what Joanna was thinking, but he was riddled with guilt. Perhaps it would be better if he were to let her go. She was no longer happy living with his people. The thought of never seeing her again was so painful to him that he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He thought of his son. Would he be able to let Joanna leave him and take their son?

Windhawk was an even more extraordinary man than the legends about him suggested. He had strength of character. When he knew something was right, he would do what he had to—and now he knew that he would have to let Joanna go…because it was right!

Three months had passed since Windhawk had been forced to slay Red Bird. The Piegan woman’s death seemed to stand between him and Joanna like an open wound.

Each day Windhawk would come to his mother’s tipi to see his son. At those times, he paid very little attention to Joanna. Sometimes she would feel him watching her, but not once had he spoken directly to her.

Joanna had become restless, wondering what would happen between her and Windhawk. She realized that they couldn’t go on indefinitely acting as if there had never been anything between them. For some reason, she had become shy in Windhawk’s presence. She thought perhaps her shyness came from knowing she had wronged him, or perhaps it was because of the deep love she carried in her heart for him.

It seemed the whole village watched and waited to see what would happen between their chief and his woman. Joanna often saw the people watching her, but not one of them questioned her about Windhawk, and no one ever spoke about Red Bird’s death in front of her.

Joanna had no way of knowing that Windhawk was wrestling with himself, believing it would be best for her if he were to take her back to her own people. He just couldn’t seem to bring himself to the final act of allowing her to leave. He was content for now to let things go on as they were, thinking the alternative would be to never see her again. He wasn’t ready to deal with that right now. He realized he might only be postponing the inevitable, but each day he would put off making any decision about sending her away.

The weather had turned warmer, and the snow had melted weeks ago. Along the river there were patches of green grass,
and Joanna found several scattered wildflowers growing in the woods.

Joanna now had plenty of time to reflect on her situation. She knew that Windhawk had not been unfaithful to her with Red Bird. She remembered Red Bird’s telling her that Windhawk still loved her. There was no evidence of that love now. Perhaps it had been just one more cruel way for the Piegan woman to hurt her. She wondered each day where her life would go from here. She loved Windhawk and wanted nothing more than to be his wife.

Two jealous women were responsible for the trouble between her and Windhawk. They had been torn apart not only by Claudia’s hateful lies, but also by Red Bird’s interference. Joanna realized that it was her fault for allowing outsiders to manipulate her life. If she had insisted on telling Windhawk the truth about the baby when he had rescued her from her uncle, they would both have been spared so much pain. She didn’t know how much longer she could go on the way she was living now. Each time she saw Windhawk, her eyes followed him hungrily. She noticed everything about him: how tall and proud he carried himself, the way his muscles rippled across his broad shoulders when he walked. She would feel herself quivering inside when he looked at her with his soft, dark eyes.

Joanna knew what she needed from him; she just didn’t know how to go about getting what she wanted. He was a proud man, and he might never come to her. She was an equally proud woman, and she would not be the one to reach out first.

Tag had led his horse down to the river to drink. He glanced upward, and his eyes followed the last dying embers of the sun, which reflected off the restless river and turned it the color of a burning lava flow he had once seen in a book.

He sat down on the riverbank, lost in thought. He was now a member of the Blackfoot tribe in every way that
counted. He tried to remember the face of his father, but it was no more than a vague memory. His mother’s face was a bit more clear to him, but that, too, was no more than a shadow.

Tag thought of his Uncle Howard and tried to feel the anger he had once felt toward the man who had stolen his birthright from him, but even that was difficult. How little importance he now placed on what was lost to him in Philadelphia.

He watched as his horse raised its head and tossed its mane, shaking off a horsefly. This was where he belonged. Everyone he loved was here in this village. He wanted so much to be like Windhawk and live as a Blackfoot. He thought of Joanna and her constant drilling, teaching, and reminding him that he was not a Blackfoot, always making sure he remembered he had a destiny to fulfill.

By now, the sky had turned a deep purple and cast a dark glow in the west. He laid his head back on the grass that was just starting to show the first signs of spring. He could feel the river’s tranquil effect, and his body began to relax. How could anyone want more than what he had found among the Blackfoot tribe?

His thoughts then transferred to Windhawk’s sister, Morning Song. Something was different in the way he felt about her. “I have not changed—I am still the same Tag,” he told himself. But he was changing, and so was the way that he looked at Morning Song.

Morning Song walked up beside Tag. It was as if thinking about her had made her appear.

“Why do you sit here alone, Tag?” she asked, dropping down beside him on the grass.

He watched as the soft breeze ruffled Morning Song’s long ebony hair and felt a tightening in his chest. “I like to come here when it is quiet as it is now. I do my best thinking when I am alone.”

Morning Song got to her feet, thinking Tag was trying to tell her he wanted to be alone. “I am sorry. I did not realize
that you wanted your solitude. Please, forgive me for disturbing you.”

Tag reached up and took her hand. “I did not mean for you to leave. Stay with me for a while, Morning Song. I would like to talk to you.”

She sat back down and gazed at the river. “Were you thinking about the white world, Tag?”

“Yes, in a way…I was thinking about how much I love it here. I feel like this is my home now.”

Morning Song’s heart was gladdened at his words. She hoped he was saying he would be content to stay with her people and not return to the white world that had once beckoned to him.

“I know there are many in the village who care much about you, Tag.”

He sat up and smiled slightly. “Are you one of those who care about me, Morning Song?” he asked in a half-teasing, half-serious voice.

She ducked her head to avoid his eyes. “Yes, I care, Tag,” she replied in a soft, quiet voice that hardly reached his ears.

Suddenly, Tag needed to hear her admit that she thought of him as more than a friend. He now knew why he had been feeling so many strange emotions about Morning Song. He loved her…not as a friend, not as a sister, but something more! He couldn’t explain even to himself what he was feeling. Joanna would probably say he was too young to feel love for a girl, but Tag knew that love was exactly the emotion he was experiencing for Morning Song.

“Do you care about me as a brother, or perhaps a friend, Morning Song?” he asked, leaning closer to her.

“No, Tag. There was a time when I thought of you as a brother, but no more,” she said, raising her dark eyes to look at him.

“I do not understand,” he said, thinking how all the young braves talked about Morning Song’s beauty. He knew they went out of their way to talk to her, each thinking he could win a smile from her. Lately it had begun to bother him that
his friends wanted to pay court to her. Now he knew why—he had been jealous!

“I…think I should go back to my mother, Tag,” she said, standing up.

Tag sprang to his feet and stood in front of her. He would settle this thing that had been gnawing at his insides for many weeks. He needed to discover how she felt about him so he would know if he had reason to believe she cared for him as he did for her.

She stood very still as he reached out his hand and softly touched her face. His hand then drifted down to lightly touch her trembling lips. “Do you think of me as a man?” he wanted to know.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Tag felt as if his heart would burst with joy. He cupped her face between his hands and pulled her closer to rest his cheek against hers. “That is good, Morning Song, because I think of you as a very beautiful woman.” He now felt a new uneasiness, a strange urge from deep inside him. He leaned forward and dipped his head to touch her mouth ever so softly with his own.

It was a sweet, tender kiss: the kiss of love’s first innocent awakening.

Morning Song felt a warm glow move throughout her body. She couldn’t believe that she was actually in Tag’s arms and he was kissing her. She loved him so much it was almost painful to her.

Tag raised his head and stepped back a pace as their eyes met. He would never look at Morning Song as a little girl again, but as the maiden he loved!

Tag lowered his head and looked down into Morning Song’s lovely face. He had been totally unprepared for the warm feelings the touch of her soft body had awakened in him. He wanted to stay with her forever, protecting her from harm and keeping all the other young warriors away from her. The realization that he wanted no one else to love her came as a shock to him!

The love of a girl was a new emotion to Tag and had come upon him unexpectedly. Not knowing how to handle this new, all-consuming emotion, he smiled and hugged her tightly to him.

“Do you feel as I do, Morning Song? Do you feel as if the stars are so close you could reach up and touch them with your hand?”

She rested her face against his buckskin shirt. “Yes, Tag…oh yes!”

“Come, Morning Song, I will walk you back to the village,” he said in a soft voice, thinking he didn’t know what else to say to her at this time.

Unknown to Tag and Morning Song, Windhawk stood on the hill above them viewing the scene between the two young people. A smile came to his lips as he realized he had just witnessed love in its purest form. He turned and made his way back to his lodge, feeling he had lost the sweet, innocent love he and Joanna had once shared.

Tag gathered up the reins of the horse and started up the path toward the village, holding Morning Song’s hand. “Did you know that tonight I have the honor of watching Windhawk’s horses?” he told her, not knowing what else to say.

She nodded. “It is a great honor, Tag.”

He was making small talk, afraid to talk about what had happened between him and Morning Song beside the river. Love was too new to him, and he didn’t yet know how to deal with the emotion.

“All the warriors are going on the buffalo hunt in the morning. Windhawk said that I may go also.”

“I had heard that,” she replied, wanting Tag to speak of the beautiful thing that had just happened between them. She realized he was feeling shy and smiled to herself, thinking there would be other days when they could talk about what had happened to them.

“It is not usual for all the braves to be away from the village at the same time,” she said, playing his little game.

“That is true, but we are fortunate—a large buffalo herd
has been sighted no more than a short ride to the north. Should there be trouble, we could be here quickly.”

When they arrived at the village, Tag walked Morning Song to her tipi. Not wanting to end their time together, he squeezed her hand. “I…we…I must go. The hour grows late, and I have to watch Windhawk’s horses.” In a daring act of courage, he leaned forward and quickly brushed her lips with his. He then bounded onto his horse and rode out of the village with his heart pounding in his ears. He would have all night to examine his feelings for Morning Song.

When Tag rode into the village the next morning he was tired. The night before had been long and tedious. A coyote had spooked the herd, and he had spent most of the night rounding up the horses. His eyes felt heavy as he made his way to the tipi he now shared with Windhawk.

His bed seemed to beckon to him, and he thought he would lie down for just a few moments. His eyes drifted shut, and he was soon in a deep sleep.

Windhawk came into the lodge and saw Tag asleep. He smiled at the young boy, thinking it would be well for him to sleep, since he had been up all night. He picked up his spear and left quietly, knowing Tag would be disappointed when he awoke. There would be other days the boy could go on the buffalo hunt.

Windhawk remembered the scene he had witnessed between Tag and Morning Song. The time would come when Tag and Morning Song would realize what had happened between them. Windhawk wondered if it was love…or merely a young boy and girl finding out about the attraction that can spark between them. He smiled slightly and mounted his horse.

Farley had left Fort Union a week before. He was tired—these trips to the fort were getting harder on him all the time. He yearned for his own bed and the companionship of his Blackfoot friends.

It was early morning, and his mount was still fresh, since he had just started out. His two pack horses were loaded down with supplies for Joanna. He smiled, thinking Joanna would be pleased with the blue print material he had gotten her as a surprise.

Looking skyward, he gauged the position of the sun thinking he would be home by the noon hour.

Suddenly, the instinct that had kept him alive for so many years told him something wasn’t right. He could sense something on the other side of the ridge just ahead of him.

He dismounted and tied his three horses to a tree. Silently, Farley made his way to the top of the ridge where he dropped to his knees behind the protection of a bush and peered down into a deep ravine.

His breath came out in a low hiss when he saw a large number of Assiniboin warriors. What in tarnation were they doing this far west? Farley asked himself. Why had they come to Blackfoot territory?

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. Sitting near the campfire, he saw what appeared to be two Cree warriors, which puzzled him further. He watched as one of the Cree stood up, and the Indian’s voice carried to him.

“River Walker and my friends of the Assiniboin tribe, I say to you that today we will cover ourselves with glory. Before the sun sets, we will have defeated the Blackfoot and will have the scalp of their chief, Windhawk!”

At that moment, Farley recognized the young warrior who had just spoken. He was one of the two Cree warriors whom he would never forget. Everything was clear to the old man now—there could be no mistake: The two Cree traveling with the Assiniboin were the same two who had killed She Who Heals, captured Joanna and Morning Song and tied him to the tree!