Susan Johnson

by Susan Johnson

  “Resourceful.”

  “So I’ve been told.” One look at Blaze’s nettled expression and he hurriedly added, his smile broad, “By friends, love, only friends.”

  So Blaze sat through two council meetings in the following week, but she understood very little of the language and nothing of the nuance. Hazard was, despite his assurances, more formal at the public meetings; after the second lengthy session, Blaze chose to stay at the lodge during future councils.

  Red Plume, Hazard’s young nephew, was chosen to guard her. With Spirit Eagle present in council, Hazard wasn’t alarmed about leaving Blaze alone, but it never hurt to be cautious, and Red Plume was good entertainment for Blaze. He was teaching her how to handle a bow and arrow.

  The first meeting Blaze was absent from, Hazard asked the assembled chiefs whether any had been approached by Colonel Braddock. He explained the circumstances of the Colonel’s pilgrimage into the mountains and through various replies was able to trace Billy Braddock’s progress up to his meeting with the Sore Lip Clan near Dog Creek. After that, no one had seen him. “Where’s his guide?” Hazard inquired, searching for more specific details after the Colonel’s last sighting.

  “Gone to see his Shoshone wife’s relatives.”

  “When did he leave?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe ten days ago.”

  About the time, Hazard thought, when he’d first heard the rumors of a yellow eyes death north of the Clearwater Mountains. “Gone for the summer, then.” Hazard knew the distance involved. The guide and his family could be absent a long time. “If anyone hears of Colonel Braddock, let me know,” he advised them, but in his own mind, he was more than half certain Blaze had lost her father. He’d check with One Heart’s brother-in-law—if he could find him. His description of the man killed might tell him something.

  The discussion turned to a raid in the planning. A scout had brought in news of Blackfeet traveling north with a herd of ponies cut from the Lakota south of the Yellowstone. It was agreed they’d leave before first light the following day.

  As they were dispersing, Bold Ax, Raven Wing’s father, touched Hazard’s arm. “Walk with me,” he said. He and Hazard strolled toward the river, talking of the coming raid, exchanging gossip about mutual friends, recalling their years of friendship; following the preliminary protocol to a discussion Hazard wished he could avoid. But courtesy forbade his evasion. “You’ve known Blue Flower since she was a baby,” Bold Ax said, broaching the subject prompting his invitation for a walk.

  “Yes, she was always my wife’s favorite sister.”

  “She’s been a woman now for over a year and has refused two marriage offers.” Hazard only waited, wondering how to offend the least. “You know our customs allow a man to marry his wife’s sisters.”

  “She’s young,” Hazard quietly replied. “Perhaps at this encampment she might find—”

  “She speaks only of you.”

  Hazard stopped, indicated a grassy plot on the bank of the river and suggested, “Sit with me.” For a quiet moment, they both looked out over the placidly flowing river under the twilight sky capricious with magenta. When Hazard spoke, his voice was as calm as the water before them. “I’m honored, Bold Ax, with your daughter’s regard. Her sister, whom I loved, brought much happiness to me. I’ve always felt the welcome of your family. It wouldn’t be right now for me to accept the feelings Blue Flower offers me, that you offer me. The yellow eyes woman is bua to me and I care for her. Please try to tell Blue Flower the way of my heart. Perhaps at another time, it might have been possible.”

  “You can have more than one wife.”

  “In my heart, I can’t.”

  “You’re young, and even as a child, you were ungovernable.” Bold Ax said it with affection. “A yellow eyes wife can bring many problems. The heart can change. I speak as your father would.”

  “Perhaps, but my spirit dictates over a sterner logic. Thank Blue Flower for the warmth of her affection.”

  “She’s going to be disappointed.”

  Hazard smiled. “At her age, she’ll forget in a few days.”

  Bold Ax placed his broad palm on Hazard’s knee and smiled back. “You’re probably right; I hope you’re right. Good luck on the raid tomorrow,” he said, rising.

  “The Blackfeet should be tired. I don’t expect problems.”

  After Bold Ax departed, Hazard sat watching the river flow by. It was comforting to realize that this river had been crossing Absarokee hunting ground since before they had horses. He knew, his eyes unfocused on the clear water passing before him, that six months ago he would have accepted Bold Ax’s daughter in marriage. And he wondered, with the same nagging unease that prompted much of his musing, whether he’d taken a route in his life which would prove not only disastrous but deadly.

  How great a fool was he to brazenly disregard convention by taking Blaze as his wife and standing up to a menacing conglomerate like Buhl Mining as well? A very large fool, he decided. A reckless, illogical fool, he thought. An enormously happy fool, he smilingly recognized, and in depth and breadth and intensity, the happiness diminished all else.

  THAT night, before they fell asleep, Hazard told Blaze of the raid.

  She didn’t answer for so long, he thought she may have fallen asleep and not heard him. “Am I going to be a widow?” she inquired at last, sitting up and gazing down at him as directly and straightforwardly as she queried him. The summer moonlight streaming in through the opening at the peak bathed her in bright and shimmering silver, making her pale skin radiant. Though she trembled slightly in apprehension, she wanted to know; wanted to know how much danger and what kind, and how far he would be from her. She thought for a brief second of saying, “Don’t go—please, for me,” but refrained.

  “Nope.”

  “I’m not a child, Hazard. I’d like the truth.”

  “It’s only a raid for horses, love, not revenge.” His hand touched her reassuringly, soothingly. “When we raid or ‘cut’ horses, it is a greater coup to accomplish it undetected, since that requires more finesse. We pride ourselves on finesse rather than brute force.”

  That simple statement explained to Blaze a great many pleasurable variables in Hazard’s nature. “You’re sure it’s not dangerous.”

  “Positive.”

  “How far do you have to go?”

  “Not far. The Blackfeet are slicing through the upper tangent of our territory on their way home. Maybe two hundred miles.”

  “That’s close?”

  “Damn close. If we strike out diagonally in the direction of their flight, we should overtake them in less than a day. We’re the short side of the triangle and they have to wade the Bowstring at Ottertail Gap. It’s the only way through the mountains there.”

  “Do women ever go on the raids?”

  Hazard hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. If she came, it would present problems, since Spirit Eagle was in the party. Although women did go on some raids to cook for the men or help with the ponies, Hazard didn’t think Blaze could keep up. If he told her that, however, she’d rise to the challenge immediately. He chose an answer that deviated marginally from the truth. “Not unless they’re very safe.”

  “I thought you said this one was,” she nervously replied.

  He curled her small hand into his. “Basically it is,” he calmly explained, “but the Blackfeet like to take scalps,20 and I’d hate to see yours on a Blackfoot lodge pole.”

  “What about yours?” she significantly asked.

  “I can take care of myself, but if I had to guard you as well, it would halve both our chances.”

  “Do you have to go?” By this time Blaze’s apprehensions were anxiously raised. It wasn’t the innocuous expedition he’d initially suggested.

  His answer was softly worded, but plain. “I want to.”

  The bright moonlight illuminated Blaze’s face, drawn and serious. Tugging her close, he nestled her in his arms. “It’s only two days, b
ia,” he whispered into her soft hair. “Red Plume will keep you company.” Touching her grave face with a gentle caress, he murmured, “I’ll bring you a present.”

  “Don’t try to bribe me with presents,” Blaze protested, drawing herself up and resting on his chest, her chin perched on her crossed wrists, “when I have to spend two days wondering if I’ll ever see you again.”

  “I’m not trying to bribe you. You probably own half of Montana by now with Buhl’s larcenous instincts. I just mean I’ll be thinking of you, that’s all.”

  “Keep your mind on staying alive, Hazard, if you don’t mind. That’s all the gift I want.”

  “I can guarantee that. I’ve been practicing survival for twenty-six years. This is a lark compared to Vicksburg and the Wilderness Campaign.”

  “You really enjoy it, don’t you?”

  In the half-dark of the shadows where Hazard lay, she could only imagine his smile. “Horse raids are amusing sport. Now tell me you’ll miss me.”

  “You know I will; I just hope,” she murmured, her mouth pursing in a brief moue, “it won’t be permanently.”

  Hazard laughed, then kissed the tip of her nose. “Would I risk my life when I’ve you to come back to?”

  “No, I guess not,” Blaze replied, a smugly mischievous smile lighting her face.

  He laughed again, pleased her plaintiveness had disappeared. He much preferred her playful arrogance. “If you need anything while I’m gone … besides that,” he amended viewing her half-raised brow. “And keep in mind,” he facetiously went on, although dead-serious at base, “my ideas of territorial rights are decidedly primitive.”

  “Is Little Moon going along?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Keep in mind, if she should,” Blaze firmly stated, “I have notions of territorial rights as unequivocal as yours.”

  “You have my word of honor,” Hazard solemnly pledged. And when his strong arms closed around her, she felt the love of the universe was hers.

  AT THE last moment, though, she wasn’t admirably brave when he left, throwing herself weeping into his arms. He kissed her tenderly and, far from thinking her tears foolish, felt like crying himself. It was their first separation.

  “You will be careful?”

  “I’m always careful,” he lied.

  “No heroics!”

  He kissed her rosy cheek and smiled. “None.”

  “Are you sure you need more horses?”

  “Need?” He gave her a startled look, as if sure she should have known. “It’s a game, bia. Need doesn’t signify.”

  “How about my need?”

  “That,” he said, his voice warm as an August sun, “is another matter.” Their eyes met, like two small children on a lark. She’d remember the magic all her life. “Red Plume will take care of you. Be good.”

  “And if I’m not?” Azure eyes were saucy.

  “Why do you think I’m taking Spirit Eagle with me?”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course,” he soothed.

  “What if I’m bored?”

  “I’ll be back before the boredom is fatal. My word on it.” He pulled an eagle feather from his headpiece and tucked it behind her ear. The Absarokee considered the eagle feather a sign of success. Hazard looked down into the face of his woman, looked long, for he might never see her again. Then he kissed her and he was gone.

  HAZARD and twenty braves with their guns and their knives and war clubs and sticks, their saddlebags of meat, dressed in full war regalia, rode their ponies away toward the High Blue Mountains.

  Hazard’s heart sang as he rode along through the vast, lonely, still plain. There welled up within him a deep love for this land of his, the land his people had fought and died for. Miles of sagebrush and greasewood, miles of waving buffalo grass, rustling softly, buttes and hills and rivers and plains. Cottonwood trees and quaking aspen and willows and pines. Widespread, still distances under the blue skies hovering close. And the majesty of the mountains so much a part of his youth, so vital to his background, he couldn’t imagine he’d lived in Boston without them.

  Rising Wolf, keeping pace beside him, flashed a smile. “Two horses says we overtake them before the Mussleshell.”

  It was joy to be riding with his best friend at his side. Like the voice of the night wind which one could not understand, could scarcely hear, could only feel, Hazard was imbued with pleasure. “You’re on.” His own smile was cheerfully assured. “Not a mile closer than the North Slope. And that horse you’re riding will do for one.”

  “Remember, I talked to the wolves this morning and you didn’t. You were too busy being all gooey-eyed with your woman.”

  “Gooey-eyed?” Hazard pronounced the word as if it were a new taste.

  The new expression had struck Rising Wolf forcefully when he’d watched Hazard and Blaze say goodbye. His grin was ear to ear.

  Hazard’s own smile was untarnished benevolence, as only that of a man in love can be. “For someone who’s spent the greater part of two days sweet-talking Breeze of the South Wind down by the river,” Hazard retorted, cheerfully at peace with himself and the world, “I’d be careful about casting the first stone.”

  “I may have sweet-talked, but”—Rising Wolf’s eyebrows rose—“I don’t think anyone heard me mention marriage. That’s for gooey-eyed smitten men,” he teasingly mocked.

  “I had my reasons for marrying her.”

  “Sure, and anyone looking at her knows them,” Rising Wolf drily replied.

  “They were cogent reasons.”

  “Delude yourself if it salves your rakish soul, but it’s gooey-eyed to everyone with clear vision.”

  “Call it what you like,” Hazard replied with serene imperturbability and a tranquil smile, “but it’s as close to paradise as I’ve ever been.” His brow lifted sardonically. “Might I recommend it to your libertine sensibilities; it’s a unique sensation.”

  “If she has a twin sister, I might be persuaded,” Rising Wolf waggishly retorted. “Otherwise the marriage trap’s not for me. I like variety.”

  “Someday you’re going to find someone to change that.”

  “Just so long,” Rising Wolf said with a wicked grin, “as it’s not too soon.”

  IN THE next two days Blaze alternated between blind faith in Hazard’s ability to survive in any situation and mind-numbing fear. If she were to lose him after knowing so briefly such love and fulfillment, she didn’t know how she would cope. For a woman who had always felt only supreme confidence in herself and her own sufficiency, Blaze now reckoned her life as only half of a whole—only complete with Hazard by her side.

  And she had another fear as well, adding to her sense of insecurity, an anxiety still hovering on the fringes of certainty. An anxiety which became less avoidable with each passing day. If, as she thought, Hazard had put life in her body, would he, she hesitantly wondered, welcome fatherhood? Would he, after this raid, even be alive to ask? She sent up her own silent prayer for his safety.

  “He will be back, won’t he, Red Plume?” Blaze had asked within minutes of Hazard’s leaving. “There’s nothing to worry about, is there?” Blaze only wanted the right answer. And if the truth was different, she didn’t want to know.

  Red Plume understood the pleading in her voice. He’d seen the love and fear in her eyes when Hazard said goodbye. “Dit-chilajash will be back,” he assured her. “He has the power with him.” It was true. Hazard had always led successful raids, but Red Plume knew, with an inherent fatalism, that their enemies were numerous and the spirits unpredictable. He’d seen it happen when he rode against the Lakota with the great chief Long Horse, the day Long Horse’s medicine lost its power; the day Long Horse died.

  Red Plume was left ostensibly as Blaze’s companion. In fact he was there for one purpose only: to guard Blaze’s life with his own. Hazard was taking no chances on any possible abduction by rash young bucks. Red Plume was a matchless friend in Blaze’s current s
tate of unease. In his adolescent openness he responded to her seesaw moods, diverted her with a variety of activities, answered her curious questions about their way of life with patience and thoroughness. And in the process of becoming friend, guardian, companion, and helpmate to his uncle’s beautiful wife, he fell a little in love with her himself.

  They spent the mornings riding over the peaceful countryside. Red Plume taught Blaze the names of all the wildflowers and showed her the butte they called Coyote’s Ear and the point on the Arrow River they called The-place-where-the-cranes-rest. The sanctuary was beautifully serene, hundreds of magnificent cranes feeding in the lush green inlet. They rode along Arrow Creek where the sage thrashers whistled and called among the bushes and box elders. And they dismounted and sat down to watch the colorful birds the Absarokee call the-bird-that-makes-many-sounds. In the afternoons, when the sun was hot, they rested in the shade of the lodge. Together they practiced Blaze’s Absarokee. Red Plume was a patient teacher, quick with his praise, an adolescent delighting in his role as tutor. But he seemed very grown-up when he demonstrated how to sew moccasins. Every warrior carried a sewing kit for moccasins, he explained. It was a basic necessity. And when Blaze, confounded at the image of Hazard sewing moccasins, inquired in astonishment, “Dit-chilajash too?” he said complacently, “Of course.”

  Young girls brought their meals to them; Hazard had arranged it. Rising Wolf’s young nieces he’d asked for, intent on avoiding any confrontations between Blaze and women from his past.

  It was a peaceful time, if Blaze’s underlying fear for Hazard’s safety could be discounted. And in the evenings Red Plume sat across the fire from Blaze and recited, in his beautifully careful English, some of the timeless legends of his people. Legends of courage and hope, love and honor, and some of the private depths of Hazard lineage were revealed to her in the haunting tales. She came to see the deep respect for tribal custom, the quest for the realization of individual dreams incomprehensible to a white man, the veneration paid to courage. The new understanding seemed to bring Hazard closer to her in his absence.

  When it was time for sleep, Red Plume would always say good night politely and leave. Blaze was unaware he curled up in a robe under the stars and guarded her.