A light drizzle tickled her nose and kissed her cheeks, mingling with the tears in her eyes. She sniffled and wiped her face with her hand. Hell. Then again, who knew? She might be the one to go first. Did she really know how much time she had here?
Maybe she should go back and apologize. A branch snapped behind her. Startled, she whirled around.
“Curly!” The harshness of her tone surprised the boy. His shoulders jerked. His brows shot up. Then his face puckered and his lips turned into a frown.
She hurried to his side and knelt before him. “It's OK. I'm sorry. It's just that you frightened me.”
Perhaps it was the soft, gentle tone of her voice that made him relax, but he answered her with a big smile. She gathered his hands in hers. “I don't know what you're doing here, but I'm sure someone's out there looking for you right now. Come.” She straightened. “We'd better get back; it's starting to rain.”
She pulled Curly after her, but the boy protested by digging his feet into the ground. He broke free and turned from her.
“Curly!”
Curly ran from her just as a bear broke through the trees.
The beast stood up on his short, thick hind legs, towering over Curly like a huge monster. Powerful jaws opened; he growled. His loose skin and long shaggy fur, shook as he pawed the air. Curly stopped short.
Gabrielle stared wide-eyed. She swallowed with difficulty, then found her voice. “Don't move.” Panic tore through her as she realized Curly wouldn't understand.
He stuck out his chest and squared his shoulders. His small voice full of valor, he yelled and feigned an attack.
Straight-backed, her movements slow and stiff, Gabrielle slouched down until her fingers touched dirt. Groping around, her gaze still on the boy, she gathered up a fist full of rocks. Slowly, she drew herself up.
The beast took a step forward.
She drew back her hand. For a brief second she paused. Would her actions aggravate the animal further? Would he attack? Curly was so close… she wasn't sure what to do.
The beast’s low angry snarl vibrated down the length of her. The downy hairs on the nape of her neck rose. Her breath held. Afraid to move, afraid not to, Gabrielle slowly turned her head and glanced behind her.
Curly's pet wolf stalked past her, advancing toward the bear.
A sigh of relief broke from her lips. The bear shook his large black head as he eyed his attacker. The wolf made his way closer. He snapped and snarled; then without warning, the bear slammed out his massive paw hitting Curly's side.
Gabrielle screamed. Seething with fear and hysteria she hurled the rocks with all her might. The rocks pelted the bear's face; the rain began to pelt her. The wolf attacked. As he bit and pulled at the bear's front legs, Gabrielle ran to Curly. He lay silent, his eyes closed. Angry red welts and blood covered the side of his face and shoulder. She stifled a cry and gathered him up in her arms.
It started to pour.
She struggled to her feet barely aware of the sounds of snapping teeth and angry growls.
Finally, be it the pouring rain teaming down upon them, or the fierce attack of the wolf's unrelenting fight, the bear had enough. Gabrielle watched with relief as the beast turned his heavyset body around. She held her breath-held her glance-until the short stumpy tail disappeared into the darkness of the trees. Only then did she dare to move.
Gabrielle ran with the wolf by her side. She had no idea where she was going; had no idea what she was going to do. Curly lay limp in her arms. Neither the rain plummeting down upon his face, or her pleas to waken, stimulated a response. Her leather dress stuck to her legs as she ran. Her moccasins sank into the muddy ground.
Visions of her father trudging through the pouring rain carrying her brother, struck her thoughts. She fought her tears and continued her onslaught past branches and fallen logs.
Several times she hesitated, glancing left, then right, searching in vain for something anything that looked familiar.
Nothing did.
She heard the wolf's bark before she saw the small opening. The hole in the curve of the slope looked no bigger than a few feet wide and God knew what was inside, but she didn't care. With difficulty, she struggled to her knees and crawled in after the wolf. Dark and damp, the smell of wet dirt assaulted her nostrils. Her head hit the ceiling as she raised up on her haunches and twisted onto her backside.
Cradling Curly in her arms, she crossed her legs before her and tried to make herself comfortable. The wolf nudged his way to her side and slid his head under her arm.
Memories came flooding back-memories of her brother falling, of her screams; hours of waiting, of wondering if he was alive as she lay on the cavern's floor, peering into the dark hole below, praying her younger brother lived. He hadn't.
The memory of that day still haunted her. She'd been eight years old; her brother, Charles, five. It had been her fault, then, as it was now. Charles had followed her into that cave so many years ago.
Now Curly had followed her into the woods.
Tears fell, mingling with the droplets of water streaming from her hair. Rain slashed down hammering the ground outside. She hated the rain. It had been raining that day when her tutor, Jeffery, following after her father, had carried her from the cave. She could still hear her mother's screams above the thunder. And the tears-so many tears.
A suffocating sensation tightened her throat. The walls around her seemed to close in from all sides. Curly's limp body felt so cold against her arms. She hunched forward and wrapped her arms tighter around him.
“I'm sorry.” The words choked her. “So very sorry.”
Empty words, said so many years ago. Words that couldn't bring her brother back from the dead, or erase the guilt burning in her gut.
Her mother had never forgiven her for that day. So many lives had been ruined because of her. Jeffery had been fired. She never saw him again. Then the fights started. Her brother's death drove a wedge between her parents that no amount of therapy could tear down. Her father left in the midst of a raging battle between the two. That was the last she had seen of him. And her mother -- hated her.
“Dear God, please let him live. I'm begging you. Listen to me.” Please listen… this time.” She rolled her head forward and opened her eyes. Tears blurred her vision as she stared down at the small child cradled in her lap. “Please I beg you.”
She began to rock back and forth. Her teeth chattered as she prayed and begged and rocked. Uncontrollable tears fell. Tears shed for a brother whom she'd barely known-tears of guilt, tears for forgiveness and tears shed for the child in her arms. “Don’t die. “
From the distance, she heard a voice calling. The wolf ran outside.
She jerked her head up. “We're in here!” She sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Thank God. They had been found. She glanced back at Curly, at the shallow rhythm of his chest. There was hope.
She heard the footsteps moving closer. “Over here,” she called out once again. She uncrossed her stiff legs. We're --”
Little Wolf's body filled the space before her. His gaze rested on Curly, then shifted to her.
A moment of panic swept over her. Little Wolf's betrayal still tasted sour upon her lips. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Go get Two Moons.”
“Give the boy to me.” He made a small gesture with his right hand. “Or he will die.”
“No.”
“You must trust me.”
“Trust? Not this time.”
“By sending you home did I cause you harm?” Little Wolf knelt down before her.
No. He hadn’t. Gabrielle held Curly closer to her breast.
“I wish the child no wrong. Two Moons and I were not always enemies. The coldness in our heart was not always there. I wanted to marry his sister.”
“What happened between the two of you?”
He held out his hands. “Give him to me and I will tell you.”
Thoug
h hesitant, she placed Curly in Little Wolf's open arms then crawled outside. She got to her feet.
A frown etched Little Wolf's brow. “We were young. Two Moons was my best friend, like a brother.” A twig snapped beneath Little Wolf's weight as he stomped upon the ground. His dark bony face set in a malicious expression, he continued. “Always he had to be better than I. A better hunter. His arrows flew further and faster than my own. He was the stronger one; the one who won every game, the one who won the hearts of the women.” Little Wolf's voice held a heavy note of bitterness. “The one whom my father wished was his own.
Gabrielle stared. No wonder he hated Two Moons. Thanks to his father, he thought himself inferior. “You should hate Two Moons for your father's blindness.”
“Two Moons could have done differently, for my sake.”
“No.” She shook her head. “He couldn't. It isn't his way to be what he is not. To pretend to be a weaker man would be in his eyes, a lie.” Being the best warrior, fighting his battles and protecting his people made him who he was. What Chahanpi had asked of her, was a losing battle. Two Moons would fight against the whites and never accept their ways. To do any different would kill him.
“Enough. I have said enough. I wish to no longer hear Two Moons’ name.”
“What about my name?”
****
Two Moons broke through the clearing. Fear. It wasn't something he let himself feel-until today. When Blue Eyes hadn't returned, the thought of her lying hurt, or worse, had terrified him. Throughout his search he cursed his foolishness. Guilt at letting her go off alone, ate away at him like a gnawing worm. Now, seeing her walking to him, made his heart soar.
She crumbled into his arms when he reached her side. He heard the word “bear” but all he saw was her tear-smudged face; all he felt was her shivering against him as he scooped her up in his arms.
“It's my fault-” She hiccupped. “I'm sorry. Curly-he tried to protect me. I threw some rocks.” She started to cry. “I don't know if he's going to live.”
“Shh.” He placed his temple against her cheek. “He is not going to die. It is because of you that he will finally start to live.” The boy was a fighter. Gentle Fawn's words came back to him. “My son has breath. Go find them. Bring me back my child.” He never knew whether or not to believe in his sister's sight. Her words at times confused him. Her acknowledgment of Curly had been unexpected. Never before had she spoken of him.
Two Moons watched the steady rise and fall of Curly's chest. He would live to see tomorrow. Curly's fight was the spirit’s way of bringing Gentle Fawn and her son together. Gabrielle was the spirits way of lifting his own blindness toward that part of them he could not change. “He is in good strong hands.”
“You can put me down.” Blue Eyes unwrapped her arms from his neck.
“You are fine where you are.”
“No. Really. I'm not hurt.”
“Cease your talk woman,” he commanded sternly. He grinned. “You will not win this battle.” A jolt of happiness shot through him as she placed her arms around him once more and rested her head on his shoulder.
“You're my guardian angel, aren't you?” She sighed.
“I do not understand this word.”
“You're always looking out for me, like one of your gods.”
“I am not a god,” he protested. “I am just a man like any other.” He stepped over a gnarled tree stump, brushed aside the needled pines with his shoulder as he passed through the heavy wet branches.
“No.” She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. “You're not. You are the most extraordinary man I have ever met.” Desire shone in her eyes.
His heart pounded against her side. “You showed great courage.” His feet were light upon the ground as he walked; his spirit light within his chest.
“I was frightened to death.”
“When you stand up to your fears, you show even greater courage.”
“So, I'm not a coward anymore?” Her airy, teasing voice drifted between them.
He paused for a moment and studied her carefully, realizing what a fool he had been. She was by far, the strongest spirited woman he had ever known. “I never thought you were.”
****
After what seemed like hours of endless pacing and nail biting, Curly regained consciousness to the sounds of rattles raised in prayers and the pounding drums of the victory dance.
Everyone came to the center of the village to celebrate in their success at the Battle of the Rosebud. But to Gabrielle, it was a celebration of life-for Curly and for herself. For the first time in years, she felt alive. It was still hard to admit and it scared the hell out of her, but the truth was, she was in love. The thought sent her heels spinning in dance, sent her head to the clouds.
And better yet, he loved her. She had seen it in his eyes; she had felt it in his strong embrace, in the way his heart had pounded with hers-he was in love with her.
Caught by the elbow, she was spun around. Strong hands circled her waist, drawing her body closer to his. “Soon they will dance in your honor.” Two Moons' warm breath fanned her face. Pride glistened in his dark eyes.
“But why? I did nothing.”
“It is no small feat to meet up with a bear and to live to tell of it.”
The pressure of his strong hand on her shoulder made her heart pound. “Two Moons we need to talk.”
“Yes, there are many thoughts in my head.”
“I'm sorry I called you a fool. I-I was afraid you weren't coming back and then when I saw you-”
“I am here now. Do not fear for me.” He ran his finger along her cheek.
The air around them seemed charged. The deep chanting voices and the hollow shaking of a rattle keeping rhythm with the drums, echoed in her ears.
“About your medicine pouch-”
“I know you are not a thief.”
“Then you believe me? So you admit that you were wrong?”
His eyes lifted. “You are not a thief.”
Not exactly an apology, but close.
The pounding of the drums and singing voices stopped.
Over his shoulder, she could see a dancer step through the circle of people. A bear skin, complete with head and claws covered the man's body, making his face difficult to see. Around his neck and ankles were a band of bear claws. A single drum began to beat.
Two Moons stepped to her side. “Come it is for you he dances.”
The flames of the fire crackled. Two Moons slipped his arm around her, resting his hand at her waist. He ran his free hand up and down her thigh. His gentle fingers slowly traced sensual trails against her body. The heat increased, coursing under her skin, a flush of sexual desire she hadn't felt in years, and never, never so intense. His thumb poised below her breast, he stretched his finger and stroked. Her groin throbbed.
The drum beat. Voices accelerated, pounding, pulsating. Smoldering waves of rhythm came faster and faster, louder and louder. The fevered pitch grew higher and higher until Two Moons' thumb caressed the tip of her breast.
Gabrielle's breath caught. God, she wanted this, had waited so long. She had believed she'd never again allow herself to feel this kind of magic and now…
Rock hard, her nipple throbbed beneath his touch. He nibbled her ear. She pressed her back deeper against his chest. She could feel his hardness jutting, straining tightly, swollen against her buttocks. The intense music echoed in her brain, swirling, rising. His closeness, his hot breath and teasing fingers, flooded her with dewy moistness. Her heart pounded as a torrent surge of passion shook; and the rattles shook; and the ground beneath her feet vibrated with the rhythm of music and desire.
Then abruptly the drums stopped. But her heart kept on beating in the pin-dropping silence surrounding them. A woman appeared before the glowing fire. With the grace of a seductress she moved ever so slowly around her partner and he prowled around her. Again the music sounded slow and easy as both dancers moved around each other like in a game of c
at and mouse. The man raised his arms above his head, then came down upon the woman, covering her with his massive paws, but to Gabrielle, the dance, more a seduction than an attack, made her limbs quiver and her knees weak.
“You have gained respect in the eyes of my people.” Two Moons ran his fingers gently across her cheek. “And you have mine.” His voice was husky, low, seductive. “Today you are no longer my slave,” Two Moons whispered in her ear.
But she was, more than he knew.
****
He thought himself incapable of jealousy. Had thought no woman could hold such strong medicine over him, but, as Two Moons watched Little Wolf step into the circle, old feelings surfaced.
What of Blue Eyes' lover back at the white man's fort?
He glanced at the woman beside him. He could still see the desire in her eyes; had felt her melt like warm honey in his hands. She wanted him, was ready for him.
He forced away his desire. Fought the urge to run his hands across her body once more, to caress and feel her beneath his fingertips. He wanted more. More than just a willing body lush for the taking, he wanted her thoughts, her mind; for her to understand his way of thinking. So, he would wait. And he would teach her. He was a patient man.
“Little Wolf dances the hoop dance.” Little Wolf stepped in and around different willow hoops.
“Each hoop represents part of the family. Father, mother, all relations.”
Little Wolf wrapped two hoops around his knees, two around his ankles, arms, waist and head. He swung them quickly, twisting and turning, circling the hoops around his body. Then he removed them, drew them together and one by one tossed a hoop out before him.
They watched as one after the other, the hoops returned to Little Wolf. “Each member of the family is their own person, can go their own way,” Two Moons whispered, “but only when they are united will they find strength and fulfillment. The old ones say that only when the family is one, can the circle of life be complete.”
A Find Through Time Page 19
