There seemed to be no leader of the party, just six young braves traveling together. They all wheeled as one when they heard Little Wolf’s call, and their ponies danced back and forth from side to side as the young men searched for the source of the voice. One of them pointed to the ridge where Little Wolf stood and then they talked excitedly among themselves, probably deciding whether it was a trap or not, Little Wolf figured.
“I am Little Wolf,” he called out, “son of Spotted Pony of the Arapaho.”
One of the warriors turned and said something to his companions and then they rode toward him. “Little Wolf, I know you. What are you doing alone in the prairie?”
Little Wolf recognized the man then. He was called Bloody Claw, a member of the Dog Society and, like Spotted Pony, one of the few Arapahos who lived with the Cheyennes. Confident now that he was among friends, he called Morning Sky out of the trees behind him and told the men of their journey to find Black Kettle.
Bloody Claw spoke. “Black Kettle has taken his village to the soldiers’ fort on the Horse River, the place the white man calls Fort Lyons. The white chief there has told him they will protect his people and give them food and there will be no more killing.” He gestured toward his companions, some of whom Little Wolf recognized from the summer rendezvous. “My brothers and I do not wish to live under the white man’s law. Black Kettle is a man of peace and we respect that. But it is not our way. We go to join the others in the high mountains to live as a warrior should live. Why don’t you come with us? It is no way to live, to grow old on a reservation.”
Little Wolf was tempted to join them. He had no desire to live on a reservation either. He had learned to love the life he had adopted, where the tribe was free to hunt and live where they wished. Still, he felt he must find Spotted Pony and Buffalo Woman. Now, too, he had the responsibility of taking care of Morning Sky. He had promised Black Feather that he would see his sister safely back to her relatives with Black Kettle. He felt bound to that promise.
“No. Thank you for inviting me to join you but I must find Spotted Pony first. When I see him and take Morning Sky back to her people, then I may come to find you in the mountains.”
They said good-bye to the party of warriors and continued their journey south. Little Wolf had made a decision, one that he felt was the proper one. Yet he didn’t feel completely at peace with it. Many conflicting thoughts troubled his mind as he and Morning Sky covered the slow miles toward Fort Lyons. He felt in his mind that he was Arapaho even though his childhood memories, though not fresh, were still there. He wished that he had been found by Spotted Pony when he was a baby, too small to have any memories of being white. Then these troublesome thoughts would not be there to bother him. Part of his heart wanted to be with Black Feather in the mountains. But part of him still harbored a reluctance to make war on the people of his birth, his blood kin. He had no desire to live on the reservation and yet he had never actually lived on a reservation so how was he to know if he would like it or not? Maybe it would be as the government had originally promised and the tribe would be given their own land with game and water, and left in peace. This would not be so bad. He could again enjoy his life with Spotted Pony. He could hunt and trap and live the life he had come to love. So, he concluded, the decision was good. He would join Black Kettle and stay with his parents.
Two more days found them at the south fork of the Horse River. From there, they followed the river further south and east until, on the evening of the third day, they spotted distant campfires that Little Wolf was almost certain were those of Black Kettle’s people. Since it was already dark and the village was still some distance away, Little Wolf decided it would be prudent to wait until morning before riding in. There was an army post close by and he did not think it wise to proceed in the darkness. He did not want to come all this way only to be shot by a cavalry patrol from Fort Lyons. Bloody Claw had said that Black Kettle was under the protection of the commander of the fort but that might not be the case. He wanted to make sure the tribe was not being held captive. He would wait until morning to see if there were soldiers in the village.
Morning Sky was content to make camp for Little Wolf on the bank of the river. He thought she might complain when told he had decided to wait another night before taking her to her people but she seemed content with the decision. She even hummed to herself as she went about gathering some small branches to make a bed for them. He watched her busying herself around their makeshift camp, her movements fluid and purposeful. He caught himself admiring her face, a rather pleasant face, he thought. She was really a graceful girl for one so young. She was going to be a handsome woman one day. Realizing that he was allowing his mind to travel in dangerous directions, and feeling a mite sheepish about having thoughts about his best friend’s little sister, he jerked his mind back to the business at hand. After all, the girl couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. He decided to see if there were any fish in the river. Maybe he could catch a couple for their evening meal.
Any fishing skills he possessed, he learned as a small boy because neither Arapaho nor Cheyenne cared much for fishing. The only time the men of his tribe would fish was if there was no other food available and they were starving. He had no fishhooks or line but he thought if he could sight one, he would make a try at shooting one with his bow. As it turned out, he didn’t get the opportunity to test his skill because he walked up and down the riverbank for at least a half mile in both directions without seeing any sign of anything alive in the muddy water. Finally he gave it up when pitch-black darkness made it too dark to see anything.
Morning Sky had already built a small fire and cooked what was left of the rabbit he had killed earlier that day. He smiled to himself as he noticed that she did not have to be told to dig a hole in the bank for her cook fire so the flames would not be visible for any distance. She smiled warmly as he approached, her eyes following his every move until he had settled himself by the fire.
“Were your fish too heavy to carry by yourself? Do you want me to go back and help you carry them?”
She had taken to teasing him quite a bit during the last few days. “No,” he replied, pretending to be irritated by her taunting. “I decided that you wouldn’t know how to cook them so I threw them back in the river for the turtles to eat.”
She laughed and held out a piece of the rabbit to him, then sat back to watch him eat. He didn’t eat it at once.
“Where is yours?” he asked. When she reached beside her and held up a piece of the scrawny meat, he accepted his portion. This was something else he had begun to notice. If he wasn’t careful in watching her, she would go without, giving him her share. He had started out taking care of her but, by the time they reached the Horse River, she was more often than not taking care of him. I hope they have something to eat in the village, he thought. He was growing tired of the steady diet of rabbit they had endured for the past several days of their journey.
They talked for a while before going to sleep. There had not been a great deal of conversation between them during the days before. Morning Sky was a quiet girl and most of the time she simply followed along behind him, making no unnecessary talk. Now, on the eve of their reunion with the tribe, it was as if the journey they had taken together had somehow established a special bond between them. For his part, he felt more relaxed than he had on any night since they had left Black Feather and Sleeps Standing. For one thing, he felt the journey had been completed. He had found Black Kettle. And, he reasoned, there shouldn’t be much danger from army patrols. When they first made camp almost within sight of their destination, he felt the need for caution. Now he reconsidered. Why would the army be out looking for Indians when the whole tribe was camped right outside their gate? So he relaxed and enjoyed the idle chatter of his traveling companion. She was obviously excited about joining her uncle’s family in the morning.
After a while the conversation seemed to have run its course and it was time to sleep. Little Wolf
banked the coals of their fire so it wouldn’t go out during the night. The nights were cold now and the thought of sleeping in a warm tipi appealed strongly to him after so many nights in the open. During their journey, Morning Sky would make a bed of pine boughs and aspen leaves, whenever they were available, to give them some separation from the cold ground. Some nights had found them on the open prairie with nothing to use for insulation. These were the nights that began a practice of sleeping together for warmth. Morning Sky wanted to share her buffalo robe with him but it was too small to cover them both. So she wrapped herself in the robe and snuggled up tightly against his back to keep him warm. With Morning Sky at his back and the fire in front of him, he was reasonably warm, at least warm enough to fall into fitful periods of sleep.
But on this night, their camp was almost as warm as a tipi. It was a shallow cave, sculpted out of the riverbank by the rushing spring thaws, when the water was high. Morning Sky had dug out a fire pit on one side and the little cave was quite comfortable. Little Wolf thought to himself that he could enjoy staying here for a while, at least until the spring thaws filled the cave with water. He settled down beside the fire and made himself comfortable. Morning Sky took a cloth down to the water’s edge and wet it. She always did this whenever they camped near a stream or river. Usually she went from the camp to wash some of the dust and grime away, far enough away to ensure her privacy. This night she soaked the cloth and came back to the cave.
“It’s cold outside tonight,” she offered in explanation.
He shrugged, already drowsy. “Yes, it’s cold,” was his only reply.
“If it’s all right, I’ll clean myself here where it’s warm.” She waited for his response. There was none so she prodded, “Is it all right?”
“What? Oh . . . yes, it’s all right.” He was too drowsy to really care what she was saying; his eyelids were already heavy.
After a few moments of silence, something nudged his sleepy brain and he opened his eyes again. Without stirring from his position, he glanced back toward the mouth of the cave, his eyelids still barely half open. His gaze was immediately captured by a vision of soft, brown skin. She had removed her leggings and her skirt, now pulled up almost to her waist, revealed well-rounded thighs and buttocks. He found his eyes riveted to the soft curves of her upper thigh as she slowly rubbed the wet cloth over them. It was more a caress than a cleaning motion and he was at once fascinated by the ritual. He knew he should roll over and ignore the young girl’s bathing but he found he could not.
His eyes followed the bare thigh up until it was again hidden by the folds of her gathered skirt. His gaze continued upward to her blouse. It was untied and open enough to expose two young breasts, not fully developed, but swollen with the promise of womanhood soon to come. He felt a definite stirring deep within him, the thought of sleep all but a memory. At the same time he felt a twinge of guilt, for here he was gazing wantonly at his friend’s little sister, she no more than a child and he charged with her safety. Feeling ashamed, he glanced up into her face, only to find her eyes locked on his. He knew at once that she was aware of his visual fondling of her body. He flushed, feeling foolish at having been caught leering at a child, and attempted to appear oblivious to her. But she knew she had captured his eye. He pretended to go back to sleep.
She lay down next to him as she had done on nights past when there was no protection from the prairie wind. It was not necessary on this night in their snug little cave. The fire kept it warm enough to sleep even without the buffalo robe. Still she pressed her body up close against his back. But on this night he was aware of the feel of her for the first time. He didn’t like the thoughts that were racing through his mind and he tried to dismiss them. She was little more than a baby, he told himself, and she was Black Feather’s sister . . . and his responsibility. He prayed sleep would come quickly.
“Little Wolf,” she whispered softly.
He felt thousands of tiny needles up his spine and at first he pretended to be asleep.
“Little Wolf,” she persisted.
“What is it?”
She put her arm around his waist and pressed her body even tighter against his back. “What’s going to happen when we get to the village in the morning?”
He didn’t understand her question. “What do you mean?” he asked, then said, “It depends on Black Kettle. He is chief.”
“I mean what is going to happen to us, you and me?”
He was beginning to understand what she was getting at and he was also aware of the slight movement of her hand up and down on his bare chest. “I am going to find Spotted Pony and Buffalo Woman and you are going to your uncle’s lodge,” he said.
“I could stay with you,” she said, her voice low, the words spoken with a deliberate softness. “I would make you a good wife.”
Her childish attempt to be seductive was probably the only thing that saved him from doing something he might have regretted later. For suddenly the thought that she was trying to seduce him amused him and it immediately drove all erotic thoughts of her from his mind. Now it became a game of tease with his friend’s little sister. But he had come close, awfully close, to taking advantage of the situation.
“You are too young to even talk of such things,” he teased. “Wait until you are no longer a baby. Then we’ll think about it. I’m not ready to tie myself to a wife now anyway, especially one that’s not old enough to wean.”
His comment brought the reaction he expected. She sat upright, indignant in her response. “I am not too young,” she protested. “Look at me!” She pulled her blouse apart, exposing her young breasts. “See! I am almost a woman already!” When he did not turn over to look at her, she grabbed his arm and placed his hand on her breast.
Little Wolf was in complete control of his emotions by then and he was enjoying the situation. He left his hand on her breast for a few moments, feigning serious concentration before remarking, “Yes, I think I can feel something. Maybe it’s a bee sting. Maybe you should put some buffalo fat on it when we get to the village tomorrow.”
“You are too stupid to marry!” she exclaimed in disgust, jerking his hand away from her. “When you think you are ready to take a wife, I won’t want you!” With that, she lay back and turned her back to him. “Stupid boy!” she muttered as she pulled the buffalo robe up over her head.
“Good night, little one,” he laughed. She did not answer.
CHAPTER 7
“Little Wolf.” He uttered the words softly but the look of joy in Spotted Pony’s eyes was one of sheer excitement as he glanced up and saw his son approaching. He did not rise as he watched Little Wolf striding toward him but his smile told of the pride that filled his heart when his tall young warrior son made straight for his father’s tipi. Spotted Pony knew he would come even though there had been much talk of the raids by the soldiers on the winter camps. Five days after Little Wolf had left, a messenger brought them news of the attack on Red Shirt’s village, a raid that had taken the lives of all but a few survivors. There had been no time to find out if Little Wolf was in danger, for the following day Spotted Pony’s own camp was attacked by a company of cavalry and the few survivors had fled to join Black Kettle. Buffalo Woman had been concerned that their son might be drawn back to his white blood when the attacks began and he would be forced to side with the soldiers. But Spotted Pony had scolded her for doubting her son’s loyalty to the people and he promised her that Little Wolf would return to them, wherever the tribe went. And now, here he was, just as Spotted Pony knew he would come.
“Father!” Little Wolf called out when he sighted Spotted Pony kneeling before the fire. He quickened his pace to a trot.
Spotted Pony rose to his feet, his arms spread to receive his son, his smile a wide splash of joy across his face. Father and son embraced and Spotted Pony called out to Buffalo Woman to come greet her son. His mother, hearing noises outside, was already coming out of the tipi when Spotted Pony called. She was so filled
with elation at seeing Little Wolf that she almost knocked father and son down in her eagerness to join in the reunion. After a few minutes of hugs and pats, Buffalo Woman suddenly realized that the young girl standing there watching them was with Little Wolf.
“And who is this? Have you taken a wife?” Buffalo Woman teased.
Morning Sky flushed visibly and looked down at the ground, afraid to look at Buffalo Woman for fear she might read the truth in her eyes. Little Wolf laughed and replied, “This is Morning Sky, Black Feather’s sister. She has an uncle here.”
Spotted Pony seemed concerned. “Where are her mother and father? Were they . . . ?”
Little Wolf quickly nodded. “Yes. When the soldiers attacked their camp, her father barely had time to string his bow. They were shot down as they came out of their tipi.” He glanced at Morning Sky to see if she showed any emotion as he spoke. If she did, she hid it well, her gaze still pinned to the ground.
“And your friend? Black Feather? Was he killed also?”
“No. Black Feather has gone to the high mountains with the others to fight the soldiers. He asked me to bring Morning Sky to her uncle.”
Buffalo Woman reached out to the girl and pulled her up close to her ample body. Putting her arms around her, she said, “You must be exhausted. Come and sit by the fire. Rest and eat. We will find your uncle’s tipi after you have rested.”
Without thinking, Morning Sky looked to Little Wolf for permission. He nodded and gently pressed her arm. Buffalo Woman did not miss the look in the young girl’s eyes. Secretly she smiled to herself.
Wind River Page 9
