For the past couple of weeks Black Horse had allowed himself to engage in the silly courtship games that his people’s tradition insisted he play. He had played love songs on a cedar flute outside Meadow’s tepee and had given White Buffalo some of his best horses as a wedding gift. To Black Horse’s surprise, he had not minded doing any of these things, in spite of Walks
Tall’s constant teasing. As final preparation for the wedding, Black Horse had undergone the Rite of Purification to cleanse him of all his wrongdoings. When he left the sweat lodge after the rite, he had felt as if he was reborn, and he had been eager to assume his role as Meadow’s husband.
He watched her walk toward the sacred fire circle where he waited for her with growing anticipation. Although her beauty made his knees weak, and the honor of being the man to take her maidenhood caused his loins to throb with impatience, Black Horse was amazed at how much he was growing to love all the other things about her. Her laughter, even just her smile, made his heart sing, and it was contagious. He had laughed and smiled more in the last couple of weeks than he had for years, and he hoped he could provide his new wife with a life that would make her smile often. Her gentleness and kind nature touched his heart, but Black Horse admired her strength most of all. He had no doubt that she had suffered many hardships in her young lifetime, but she was still full of optimism that the future was somehow going to be better. He wished he could tell her she was right.
Black Horse continued to stare at his beautiful bride-to-be as she stopped beside him. He could see a glimmer in her pale gaze that he was sure was admiration and, most definitely, the excitement of their blossoming love. A shy smile curved her lips, and a guilty pang shot through his chest. What if he could not give her the life she deserved? He knew that he would not be content to live here in Canada—in hiding—for the rest of his life. He took a deep, heavy breath. If she expected these things of him after they were man and
wife, she would be gravely disappointed. He would not hide in a foreign country like a scared dog, nor would he stand idle while his people died of starvation and sickness. Black Horse intended to fight back against the white men until his dying day. After this ceremony, his life would become hers, too. He only hoped she understood the commitment she was making this day.
Meadow’s gaze lowered when she saw the odd way Black Horse was staring at her. She still found it hard to believe she was actually going to be the wife of this brave and powerful chief. Other than the few kisses they had shared, and a few stolen moments alone now and then, they had spent the majority of the past couple of weeks in the company of others or engaged in preparations for the wedding. But she had been with him enough to know that she was already in love with him. Her father had been right when he had told her that she had fallen in love with Black Horse the moment she had first set eyes on him, but that had only been the beginning of the feelings she was developing for this man. He was a proud man, with a good heart, and she had no doubts that he would be a good husband. He made her feel safe, and she knew as long as he was at her side, there would never be any doubts about where she belonged. She already knew how much she enjoyed his naked body, and the thought of being truly intimate with him to night filled her with excitement.
Meadow tried to push the thoughts of her wedding night from her mind as she tore her attention away from Black Horse briefly and glanced around. Her
gaze swept over the red-coated soldiers who sat beside the fire. Gentle Water had told her about their arrival and the purpose of their visit. Even though they had heard the soldiers in this country were not hostile, their presence made Meadow uneasy. Just knowing they were here conjured up terrifying memories of the soldiers in the American army, and of all the tragedy and heartbreak they had caused for her adoptive people.
When Sitting Bull walked up to them and began the simple ceremony that would unite her with Black Horse for all eternity, Meadow happily pushed the soldiers’ presence to the back of her mind. Having such a great man conduct the ceremony was considered a special honor. The simple ceremony began with Sitting Bull wrapping each of them in a blue blanket. The blankets were symbols of the lives they had lived before they met. White Buffalo stood behind Meadow holding a single white blanket.
Sitting Bull raised his arms up to the sky and asked
Wakan Tanka
to bless the couple. Then he motioned for them to remove the blue blankets and shed themselves of any sorrow and shame from their pasts.
White Buffalo stepped forward and started to wrap the white blanket around the couple. This blanket would symbolize the beginning of their new life together. They would pull the blanket over their heads and engage in the kiss that would unite them in marriage. After the ceremony there would be a huge feast, and the newlyweds would sneak away into the forest to begin their new life together.
Meadow felt a joyful tear roll down her cheek as her father began to drape the white blanket over her head.
She saw the proud expression on his aged face and knew that he was as happy as she was at this moment. This truly was a new beginning for all of them.
“Wait—this marriage must be stopped!”
The pulsating drum beat ceased, and a strange quiet settled over the village as the interruption turned everybody’s attention toward the Mountie who had called out. Yet, even as he stumbled to his feet, Brandon Cornett was not sure of his own actions or what he would do, now that he had allowed his impulsive statement to escape from his mouth. He was only sure of three things: this young girl was white, she did not belong here, and there was no way he could allow her to marry this savage!
The unnerving silence following Brandon’s outburst lasted only a few seconds before the angry shouts of the Indians began to fill the air. Panic engulfed Brandon as he realized the danger he had just created for himself and his comrades. In barely more than a heartbeat Brandon knew that these Indians could slit their throats, toss them all in the fire pit and get on with the wedding ceremony as if nothing had happened. The possibility of being slaughtered within the next few seconds eclipsed his gallant motive for interrupting the wedding.
“What do you think you are doing?” Walsh demanded as he stopped in front of Brandon. His face was flushed a deep shade of scarlet, and the raspy tone of his voice made his panic and anger evident.
Brandon could not speak for a second because of the lump of fear that had formed in his throat. He met the other officer’s gaze as he stuttered, “I—I—well—Sh—she is a white woman, sir.”
“I know,” Walsh said in a hoarse voice.
“What if she is being held here against her will?” Brandon asked in a panicked tone of voice. He could tell by the conflicting expressions flashing through his commander’s face that he, too, was wondering the same things.
Turning slowly around, Walsh looked toward the woman. “Are you being forced to marry this man?” he called out to her. A look of confusion and her silence was the only reply the Mountie received from her.
The rage Black Horse felt at having a stranger, especially a white man, interfere with his wedding flashed across his face like a death mask as he stalked to where the soldiers stood. As he approached the Mounties, Black Horse grabbed a long, feathered lance from one of the other warriors. He stopped before the man who had jumped up and shouted for them to stop the ceremony, and leveled his dark gaze so that he was staring directly into the other man’s eyes.
All movements and noise ceased while the two men stared at one another. The obvious hatred toward the soldier radiating from the chief made the tension around the fire pit seem as thick and suffocating as the smoke spiraling up from the flames. Black Horse clutched the lance tightly in his right hand as he faced the soldier, and as he began to raise the lance up into the air, the look of sheer terror on the Mountie’s face filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction. The man’s terrified gaze followed the blade at the end the lance as it raised up into the air above his head. His face seemed to drain of all color, and his mouth opened in what appeared to be a silent scream.
For an instant Black Horse considered fulfilling the man’s expectations. He envisioned himself plunging the lance into the man’s chest. Many times he had killed an enemy in this manner.
But common sense overruled his anger. He remembered what he had been told shortly before the wedding
about Sitting Bull’s promise to the Mounties that they would not cause any trouble while they were here in Canada. Although he felt he had a justifiable cause to kill this man, Black Horse also knew that he could not ignore the promise that Sitting Bull had given to the soldiers. Right now Canada was a temporary haven that his people desperately needed.
Black Horse’s gaze studied the face that he would not allow himself to forget. When the Mountie’s face was imprinted deeply in his mind, Black Horse brought his arm down sharply and drove the lance into the ground only inches away from the toes of the soldier’s black boots. He heard a frightened gasp escape from the other man as he turned and walked away from the group.
Low murmuring from his tribesmen reached Black Horse’s ears as the men reacted in surprise to the way he had managed to control his rage. He, too, was shocked by his own actions. Though he prided himself in using good judgment in battles, he was rarely so tolerant when he was personally assaulted. The blondhaired Mountie better hope that they never crossed paths in the future. Next time their encounter would not end on such friendly terms.
Taking his first full breath since this near tragedy had started, Superintendent Walsh turned around to face Sitting Bull. “I sincerely apologize for the disturbance and”—he glanced briefly at the lieutenant before facing the older chief again—“you have my word that nothing like this will ever happen again.”
The expression on Sitting Bull’s face gave no clue to the way he felt about this turn of events. For a few
seconds he made no comment or movements. When he did acknowledge the superintendent’s apology, it was with a quick nod of his head, before he turned around and walked away without speaking another word.
Brandon watched the departure of the fierce chief with a feeling of despair. He knew his impulsive actions might be the end of his career—if not his life. Superintendent Walsh was a compassionate man, but he did not tolerate insubordination. Brandon was sure the superintendent would consider his outburst a direct defiance of the peace agreement he had just worked out with Sitting Bull. His feelings were confirmed when he glanced in Walsh’s direction. The superintendent was looking directly at him, and the hostile expression on his face made his position clear.
“I suggest we move out of here immediately,” Walsh said. With a narrow-eyed glance at Brandon, he added, “And without making any further trouble.”
Brandon avoided looking at his superintendent as he gave his head a sharp nod. Before he followed the rest of the Mounties, however, he looked back to where the girl had been standing. She was being led away by several of the Sioux women. As if she sensed that he was staring at her, Brandon noticed that she glanced back over her shoulder. He could not tell if she was looking at him in that brief instant before she turned away and disappeared into one of the tepees.
Brandon remained rooted to the spot. His head spun with indecision, and his heart pounded against his chest. What was the look he had seen in her gaze? Could it be that she had been praying she would be saved from this marriage before it was too late? Her expression did not look like appreciation. Maybe it
had only been sympathy he had seen in her glance, because she knew he had just sealed his own fate.
With the thought of his own death planted firmly in his mind again, Brandon glanced down at the feathered lance at his feet. It protruded at an awkward angle from the ground, with the end feathers hanging directly in front of his face. Thinking of how easy it would have been for the chief to stick the weapon into him instead of the ground, Brandon sidestepped the lance and stumbled blindly behind the rest of his troop.
He was fearfully aware of the Indians who escorted them from the center of the village, but he was oblivous to any other activities around them. To his amazement, he found himself standing beside his horse. When he realized the other men were mounting up, he wasted no time pulling himself up into his own saddle. He glanced around again, still expecting to be murdered at any second. The Sioux men who had escorted them to their horses did not look sociable, but they did not appear to be in a killing mood either. As Walsh motioned for his men to follow him back through the dense forest, Brandon felt a sense of relief begin to inch into his trembling body. When the Indians were out of sight, and the threat of his own death started to fade, he began to think about other possible repercussions of his foolish actions. He expected to be putting in a lot of extra guard duty, as well as enduring a host of other undesirable jobs.
He glanced around at his comrades, but none of them looked back at him. On their faces were solemn expressions, and their goal was obvious: to put as much distance between themselves and the Indian village as possible.
Brandon tried to focus his attention on the trail ahead of him. He attempted to clear away the memory of the white girl, but her image had fixed itself in his mind. Even now that they were a safe distance away from the village, he still had the feeling that he needed to do something—anything—to bring her back to her own people.
The reason the Mountie had felt compelled to stop the wedding did not matter to Meadow. She only cared about being with Black Horse, and he was nowhere to be found. After he had confronted the Mountie and driven the lance into the ground, he had disappeared into the forest, and Meadow had been led back to Sings Like Sparrow and Gentle Water’s tepee to wait for his return. It seemed as if she had been alone in the tepee forever. She still clutched the white blanket against her breast and planned to hold it until she was with Black Horse again and their wedding ceremony was completed. But did Black Horse still intend to go through with the wedding, or was he so angry that he had changed his mind about marrying her?
She kept recalling how handsome he had looked as he waited for her to walk up to him during their wedding. When she had taken her place at his side, she had felt such an overwhelming sense of pride and hope for their future together that it had been difficult to contain her joy at the thought of becoming his wife. A fluttering sensation erupted in her stomach even now as she thought about him, and it was followed immediately by a crushing sense of sadness. If not for the Mountie’s interference, she would be Black Horse’s
wife, and they would be spending their first night as husband and wife.
In Sings Like Sparrow and Gentle Water’s tepee, Meadow listened to the pounding of a lone drum. Even though there had not been a wedding today, the tribe had carried on with the celebration that had been planned for to night. Meadow wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug and fought back another round of weeping. Her eyes burned from the sad tears she had already cried today. She should be dancing with her handsome new husband right now, and they should be planning to sneak away together to spend their first night as man and wife in one another’s arms. Instead, she was making plans to sneak away from the village alone so that she could look for Black Horse.
Meadow pulled back the flap at the tepee door and stuck her head outside to glance around. The daylight had long ago faded into night, and not even Sings Like Sparrow or Gentle Water were close by the tepee. Everyone, it seemed, was partaking in the festivities that were meant to be in celebration of her marriage. She felt the sting of more tears forming in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back and forced herself to concentrate on the one thing that would take away this emptiness and pain.
Turning away from the sounds of the celebration, Meadow took a deep breath and stepped out of the tepee. She took the white blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders as she headed toward the river. Though she didn’t know why the feeling was so strong, Meadow was almost sure that she would find him in the same place he had been when she had seen him for the first time.
Unlike that first day, when his boldness had shocked her, Meadow had every intention of being the bold one to night. Although their wedding had not taken place as planned, Meadow knew that she would become Black Horse’s woman to night. She had a nagging feeling that if they waited…it might be too late.
The forest at night seemed eerie and unfriendly to Meadow. Even though she thought Canada was beautiful and she was growing used to the dense forests, she missed the wide-open plains of Montana and the Dakota Territory where she had grown up. There, she could look out across the prairie and see so far off in the distance that it looked as though the sky and the land had merged into one. Not being able to see what lurked behind each tree in the forest filled Meadow with anxiety. The gibbous moon, however, was nearly full on this autumn eve, and it cast pale patches of light through the treetops, so the dense woods were not as ominous as they would have been in complete darkness.
With each step Meadow took toward the river, the thumping of her heart grew more intense. She was not sure what to expect when she did find Black Horse. Clutching the long fringe on the hem of her wedding dress tightly in her hands so that the delicate strands would not hook up on the tall dry grass, Meadow stepped cautiously over twigs and protruding rocks.
A couple of times she had to pause to get her bearings to make sure she was still going in the right direction. With every step, though, her uncertainty increased. What would she do if she got lost in the forest at night—or worse, what if she encountered a group of the hated Blackfoot warriors when she was
out here alone? White Buffalo’s dire warnings echoed through her mind. She clutched at her throat and took a trembling breath in an effort to calm the panic she could feel building inside of her like a cannon that was about to explode. Then, as if to answer her prayers and calm her fears, she heard the calming sounds of running water. The bushes where she and Gentle Water had first watched Black Horse bathing loomed ahead of her, and everything looked familiar again.
She sighed with relief, but the lump that remained in her chest reminded her of the dangers she could still encounter. Pushing aside the leafy branches, Meadow bent down and eased through the brush as quietly as she could. The fringe on her dress kept catching on the branches, and several times she had to stop to untangle the leather strips from the long, skinny twigs of the willows. The upper branches kept tugging on her hair and had pulled most of it out of the thick braids that had held it neatly against her head earlier. Now, the long strands were tangled in disarray around her face and most of the pretty leather strips that had adorned her braids were lost among the trees.
Whenever she paused, she noticed how the rapid thudding of her heartbeat sounded deafening to her ears in the quiet of the night. At times, it even seemed to drown out the lulling sound of the nearby river. Feeling certain that her building sense of excitement was because she would find Black Horse on the other side of the bushes, Meadow shoved the last of the branches out of her way. Nothing but the dark rolling waters of the river greeted her anxious eyes.
Meadow’s footsteps halted as her disappointment settled heavy in her heart. She scanned the area in
breathless anticipation of seeing Black Horse sitting on one of the rocks scattered among the willows and alders that created a craggy ebony barrier along the riverbank. Moonbeams shimmered on the river like silvery spiderwebs. The soothing sound of the water, combined with the moonlight and the isolation of this secluded spot, seemed almost magical to Meadow. She pulled the white blanket tighter around her body and glanced around again.
Her feeling that Black Horse was close by continued to grow even though she could not see any sign of him. “Black Horse,” she called out softly. “Are you here?” The absence of his reply was her only answer. A chill rapidly spread through her body, and the sinking feeling that she was alone filled her with emptiness. She had been so sure she would find him here.
Turning around slowly, Meadow hung her head down and drew in a defeated sigh. She did not notice the man who had just emerged from the bushes.
“I’m here,” Black Horse said quietly as he approached her from behind.
A startled gasp escaped from Meadow as she twirled around to face him. He had removed his feathered headdress and ceremonial shirt. His bare chest was a shimmering shade of dark bronze in the moonlight, and his leggings and breechcloth hung low on his narrow hips. He had released his long hair from the tight braids, and now the thick raven tresses framed his handsome face and tumbled down over his shoulders. A wide tribal armband of black and gold encircled one of his upper arms.
“I—I was looking for you.” Meadow met his unwavering gaze and felt the breath catch for a moment in
her throat as she waited for him to speak again. From the strange expression on his face, she wondered if he somehow blamed her for the trouble with the Mounties. Before he finally spoke again, Meadow felt as if she had died a thousand deaths.
“It is not safe for you to be in the forest alone, especially at night,” Black Horse said in a formal tone. His gazed traveled up and down her entire body.
“I don’t care,” she retorted, not caring that he was looking at her as if he could see right through her clothes. “Tonight is supposed to be my wedding night—remember?” She paused and waited for him to respond. His only reaction was to continue to stare at her in a way that left her feeling completely naked.
“Why did you run away today?” she asked in a tone edged with the hurt and disappointment she could no longer hide.
“I have never run away from anything or anyone in my life!”
He stepped closer, and although Meadow was tempted, she did not back away from him.
“You ran away today,” she repeated. She forced herself to remain unmoving, even though his obvious rage made her tremble inwardly like a frightened rabbit. Even in the dim moonlight, she could see the way her words affected him. She raised her head up in a defiant manner that belied the nervousness she felt inside and clutched the blanket even tighter, as if it would somehow protect her from his wrath.
Black Horse had never known a woman who would confront him in this manner, and even in his fury, he was impressed that she would not back down. He
would not, however, allow her to accuse him of running away. He had merely sought refuge down here by the river while he tried to sort through his troubled thoughts. In spite of his growing love for her, the Mountie’s outburst had made Black Horse’s doubts about their wedding resurface.
Although he had heard many stories in the past few days about how Meadow had come to live with the Sioux, and he could see for himself that she was more than content to be living with his people, Black Horse still could not ignore the fact that the Mountie had blatantly pointed out: she was white. Even Walks Tall had hinted to him in the beginning that his marriage to a woman who was not Sioux could be a mistake. What worried Black Horse even more was knowing that, once he claimed her as his woman, his love and devotion to her would never allow him to give her up again, especially if she bore him any children. He drew in a ragged sigh. What if they did have children and she someday decided to return to her own people? Would she try to take his children with her?
An odd sense of fear filled Black Horse, a feeling he did not know how to acknowledge. He had trained himself to feel hatred toward the
wasichu
—whites—but he had never feared them. This woman made him fear that he would let himself love her even more than he already did, and then he would lose her.
Black Horse stared down at her. Words eluded him, and emotions he had never known left him feeling vulnerable and defenseless. He had sensed a joining of his soul with this woman’s from the first moment he had looked into her unforgettable green eyes, and the feeling was growing stronger with each passing second.
A defeated sigh escaped from his parted lips. He shook with the realization that he was falling so completely in love with her that nothing else mattered. He cleared his throat loudly, but could not clear his confused thoughts.
“Why were you looking for me to night?” Black Horse asked. His voice had dropped to barely more than a whisper now, and he trembled as he waited for her reply.
Meadow drew in a quivering breath as she stared up at his face. “I—I came because…” Her mind groped for the right words to express the way she felt at this moment. “Because I cannot imagine waking up to another sunrise if I am not in your arms. I want nothing more than to be your wife and spend the rest of my life with you,” she said in a shaky voice.
Black Horse remained silent and unmoving as though he was contemplating her words. His eyes never left her face as he said, “You must know that to be my woman—my wife—in every way means that you will have to deny your true heritage for as long as we are together, for as long as we live.”
“I have proven my loyalty to the Sioux,” Meadow retorted. “White Buffalo has never kept me here against my will.”
“When the last of the Sioux are dying of starvation and there is nowhere else to hide, will you still be so loyal?”
The meaning of his question cut deep into Meadow’s pride. It pained her to think that he doubted her devotion to the Sioux in any way. She had never once considered returning to the whites if life here became
too difficult. Somehow, she had to make Black Horse realize her true feelings if they were going to have a future together.
“I have not forgotten that the Sioux killed my white family,” Meadow said with a slight quiver in her voice. “But I have also seen what the
wasichu
have done to the Indians. And like you,” she continued with a forceful tone as she brought her fist to her chest, “I will die for my people.” Her stance straightened in a proud manner as she added, “And the Sioux are my people now and forever!”
He stared at her in silence for a moment. “As my woman,” he said in a hoarse voice, “you will have to understand that there are things that I must do.”
“As your woman, I would make it my duty to understand and support whatever it is that you must do.” She imagined that he was referring to the raids that he had been conducting down in Montana on the ranchers’ and the American soldiers’ livestock and supplies. The thought of him leaving her for these dangerous escapades was not something she looked forward to, but she knew he would expect her to accept that this was his way of helping his people.
“It’s more than killing the white man’s cattle or stealing his whiskey,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts. He added more forcefully, “I am not ready to admit defeat against the
wasichu
.”
As his meaning became evident, a worried gasp escaped from Meadow. “But Sitting Bull has said that there is to be no more fighting with the whites.”
Black Horse dropped his head down and stared at the ground. “I understand why Sitting Bull and the other chiefs have brought our people here to Canada.
The old ones and the women and children are weak, and too tired to fight anymore.” His head rose up as he looked at her again. “But I will never understand their decision to give up completely.” Black Horse shook his head slowly. His voice was low and determined when he added, “I will never stop fighting for my people and the land that is rightfully ours. Never!”