Whispering Sun

by Rita Karnopp

  "I'll make a bargain with you. Help me up that hill and I'll brush those tangles out of your hair for you."

  From his expression she could tell his comment came as much a surprise to him, as it did to her. Unsure how to react, she masked her confusion with a nod. "Sounds like a fair exchange."

  She watched him gingerly roll to his side, then work his upper body up enough to sit. "I might think twice about wrestling a bear next time."

  Sarah laughed. She'd never have guessed him to possess even the slightest sense of humor. Could she have misjudged him in other ways? She waited for him to catch his breath, then watched him slowly rise to his feet. After two steps his breechclout fell to the ground.

  Horrified, Sarah turned her back to him. "I'm sorry. I thought I had it right," she apologized, realizing her voice quivered. Two Shadows laugh exploded deep, warm and rich. She'd expected anger, not this.

  "No harm done, except maybe to your modesty. I realize you find this a bit embarrassing, and I hate to ask, but bending over might be my last effort. Do you think you'd mind getting it for me?"

  If she could have found a rock to crawl under, she'd have done it. She glanced over her shoulder at him. She felt her cheeks blazing red-hot. Seeing his mouth twitch with amusement increased her discomfort. She bent down, picked up the leather garment, then handed it over her shoulder to him, without ever looking at him.

  "I'll have to teach you how to tie it right some time." His gentle laugh rippled through the air.

  In spite of herself, Sarah chuckled, too. "Don't bother. It's not something I plan on doing again." She felt her cheeks burning, grateful he couldn't see them.

  "You never know," he said, moving alongside her.

  She tilted her face toward his. Their gaze locking for a moment. Sarah glanced away, before his steady gaze pulled her into the depths of confusion, they held such power.

  She held still as he slid his warm palm across her back, then clutch her shoulder. She moved her arm around the backside of him, gripping his waist. Cautiously, step-by-gruesome-step, they made their way up the sloping ridge. They finally reached his sleeping blanket, both easing down onto it, exhausted.

  He lay back, pulling her against him. She collapsed in the crook of his arm, spent, and breathing hard. She drank in the comfort his nearness provided.

  Conscious of his hand on her shoulder, she held her breath as he slid his cupped palm the length of her arm. His touch sent an involuntary shudder through her. She hoped he hadn't felt it, too. She turned slightly, looking into his face, drawn to his mysterious, ebony eyes. His stare drew her breath away.

  She felt his face lower toward hers. She raised her chin, allowing his lips to brush against hers, then gently cover her mouth.

  Warm sensations spread through her whole being. She wanted the kiss to last forever. He pulled back, leaving her breathless. Confused, she kept her eyes closed a moment, hoping for more, afraid...for more.

  She lifted her lids, searched his face and knew that he wanted, needed, and desired this as much as she had. Boldly, she moved her face closer to his, pausing mere inches away.

  He closed the distance, reclaiming her lips, crushing her to him. Slight thoughts of his injuries surfaced, then quickly disappeared. She melted against him, feeling his strength, his gentleness, and his great desire to have her close.

  Two Shadows felt overcome with passion. He'd longed to taste her lips. He'd endlessly thought of holding her like this, in his arms, her breasts crushed against his chest. He'd never wanted a woman like he wanted Sarah. He never thought he could love a woman, love was for fools.

  Sarah changed all that. He'd be a fool if it meant having Sarah. She tasted sweet. She felt soft and shapely. The look of want in her eyes surprised him, crushing all attempts to keep her at a distance. He longed to be inside her, to be the man to claim her for his own.

  Two Shadows prolonged the kiss, brushing his lips across hers, welcoming its softness and drawing upon its sweetness. She reminded him of honey...he couldn't get enough of the taste of her.

  His need to have more of her swelled inside him. He felt her heat build in his arms. Reality stole his fire. What was he doing? Sarah, sweet, young, and innocent Sarah. He couldn't take advantage of her. She deserved better than him...a white man of good stock. He had no right to ask this of her. What could he, a half-breed, offer her?

  With all the inner strength he could gather Two Shadows pulled from her velvet warmth. With considerable effort, he sat, putting a slight distance between them. He refrained from looking at her face...afraid one glance would weaken his determined mind.

  "I'd better brush that hair out for you, as I promised," he said, aware of the huskiness that lingered in his tone. He fought to slow his erratic breathing.

  He watched confusion, disappointment, and even rejection in her expressive face. He noticed her rapid breathing matched his own. She sat and turned her back to him. He hated himself for having done this to her. She'd been hurt too much in her short life. His selfishness had caused her undue pain.

  He retrieved his own personal porcupine brush from his travel pouch. Unacknowledged by the white man, an Indian took great pride in his appearance, making sure his hair, above all, stayed neatly braided and groomed.

  He sensed Sarah's restraint in her posture. He understood her confusion and chastised himself for having caused her distress. He could tell himself he did it for her own good, yet, guilt riddled him.

  He wanted to comfort her. He remained silent. He knew one word, one reassuring touch and he'd find himself wanting her all the more.

  Having no choice, he'd take her with him on his quest. Once he'd killed the demons of his childhood, he'd take her back to Fort Bryson. He'd never see her again. Now that her hearing had returned, she'd undoubtedly have no trouble in finding a husband. Just the thought of Sarah with another man made his blood boil with jealousy. Would he ever get over wanting this woman?

  Sarah closed her eyes while he worked his fingers through her tangled mass of hair. She struggled to understand what had just happened. Had he tested her, seeing if she'd willingly kiss an Indian? In her mind's eye, she relived the intimacy of his kiss.

  She wondered if what she felt for Two Shadows was love. The thought sounded preposterous. How could she possibly love a man she hardly knew? How could she even suggest love, the man was an Indian. Thoughts of her mother telling her there was no such thing as real love, only fools believed they married for love, surfaced to warn her. Maybe the dream had given her a confused feeling of closeness to him. Twice now she'd saved his life and maybe that made her feel a kinship with him. Whatever it was, she felt it. A burning need to feel accepted by him . . .a want of acceptance...instead of rejection.

  He'd pushed her away. Did he find kissing a white woman offensive? His mouth on hers told a different story. She couldn't ignore the passion and the need in his kiss. She never wanted to feel pushed away again. She'd keep her distance. She'd protect herself from the hurt he caused.

  A slight movement caught her eye. She eased over, picking up Two Shadow's knife, then with the flick of her wrist she tossed it hard and fast. They'd have rabbit for supper.

  Sharing the tasty meat, she nibbled with little enthusiasm. He ate as though it were his last meal. Silence clung around them like a heavy fog. She watched him from the corner of her eye. He licked his fingers, wiping the remains through his hair, then settled down on his blanket. Within minutes he rested as though he had no cares in the world.

  She seethed momentarily at his obvious disregardful to her discomfort. Within minutes she faced how ridiculous pouting seemed. He'd kissed her. He hadn't made any promises, she hadn't asked for any. He'd kissed her. He hadn't asked her to marry him and she wouldn't want him to. He'd just kissed her. In gratitude perhaps.

  Sarah reached for the flintlock and knife, then leaned against the bark of the tree. Her vigilance over Two Shadows and the fire took more effort than any other night. The activities of the day left her
exhausted. The stillness of the night engulfed her in loneliness. Moving her foot, she pressed her worn slipper against his arm, somehow it gave her comfort.

  The fire cracked, waking her with a start. It snapped again, only this time Sarah realized...it wasn't from the fire. She heard the nervous nickering of the horses. She rolled herself behind the tree, then inched into the dark edges of camp. Gripping the knife, she worked her way toward the horses. She reached Cloud just in time to grab his rope.

  The moon cast hazy images all around. She stepped from the shadows, then stood facing the thief. Their eyes locked for a second. She could have easily driven her knife into his chest, yet she felt no fear from the young buck. He tapped her shoulder with the tip of his bow, turned and ran into the depths of night, taking Two Shadow's magnificent horse.

  What would he say when she had to admit a young warrior stole the horse? That she could easily have killed him. That she'd fallen asleep and failed to keep watch. Sarah fretted over the situation until a deep, exhausted sleep conquered.

  Chapter Ten

  Two Shadows pulled himself up with renewed vigor. He glanced over at Sarah. Once again she sat with her back against the tree. Her arms hung limp to the ground, the rifle held loosely in her right hand, the rope of the white horse she called Cloud, wrapped around the other. Her chin rested down against her chest.

  He stood, grabbed his sleeping blanket and walked over to Sarah. He spread it on the ground at her feet, slipped the rifle from her hand and unwound the rope from her fingers. He eased her body onto the blanket and tucked the edges up around her. He then watched her snuggle down into the warm depths of it...like a small child.

  He watched her sleep for a few quiet moments, then led Cloud down the trail for water.

  He found it strange that Sarah had hobbled a horse with her hand. Did she think the animal would warn her of any trouble while she slept? Seemed somewhat clever, he had to admit. He took several steps past the grassy area Cloud and Night had been hobbled. He stopped, taking in the signs on the ground. He stared at the moccasin imprints of a young Sioux and Sarah's small slippers facing within inches of each other.

  She'd had trouble last night. Why hadn't she wakened him? The Sioux buck had taken Night. The loss struck Two Shadows deep. How had Sarah managed to keep Cloud? She could have been killed, the stupid white woman! He knew his anger exploded only because she hadn't asked for his help.

  Two Shadows pressed his way toward the pond. He pulled the bindings off his chest and shoulder, taking in the massive scars that now marred his body. He shuddered as memories of the bear lashing out at him surfaced.

  He dropped his loin clout, then moved into the cold pond. He sat with the water barely inches below his chin. He allowed himself to relive kissing Sarah. He recalled her warm breath as he moved to touch her lips with his. No lips had tasted so sweet, so soft, or more inviting. He shook his head, chasing the disturbing thoughts from his mind. Why did he insist on torturing himself like this?

  How long he'd sat thinking about Sarah, he didn't know. One thing he did know, his flesh burned from being cold and numb. He took a deep breath and pulled himself up, then out of the pond. He rubbed his arms and legs, generating heat back into them. He tied on his covering, then squeezed moisture from the edges of his hair.

  He studied the foliage until he spotted a western larch. Without hesitation, he made his way to the towering pine. Breaking off a piece of flaky cinnamon bark, he rubbed it generously over his naked flesh. He'd taken up this practice since his father had taught him it camouflaged the human scent. He'd grown to like the fresh, crisp fragrance.

  Reaching up, he broke off a twig of pine needles, then scrubbed his teeth with it.

  He moved around the pond, aware of nature surrounding him. Spotting a duck nest on the far edge of the water, he smiled to himself. He'd treat Sarah to a breakfast she could only dream about.

  An expectant smile quickly turned into an agitated frown. It took incredible strength to work his way through the surprisingly thick, green reeds and cattails. Although his legs were once again numb from the cold water, the effort had been rewarded. In the crook of his arm he balanced six of the eight eggs from the nest.

  Sitting on a rock, he rested a short time before heading back to camp. Watching Cloud pull up spring grass caused uneasiness within Two Shadows. The young Sioux that took Night must surely not be alone. Consumed with thoughts of Sarah, he'd allowed his defenses to drop. Two Shadows couldn't think of a time that his people didn't hate the Sioux. If this young buck took Night back to his camp, wouldn't the others return with knives in hand? Another question pressed into his thoughts, why were there more Sioux in the Blackfeet lands?

  Two Shadows could come up with only one answer...a war party to avenge the deaths of the Sioux that Horse Racer, He Who Listens and himself had killed not too long ago. If this were true, not only he, but Sarah, too, was in grave danger.

  Another urgency attacked his conscience. He'd been given direction and purpose from Napi. This shouldn't be ignored. If only Eagle Shield was still alive to guide him into the mountains. Two Shadows felt grateful he'd questioned the warrior and had discussed the skinner's camp. When the time came, Two Shadows believed he would know the place.

  Taking Cloud's lead rope, he headed toward camp...and Sarah. He placed the eggs gently on the ground, then added more wood to the smoldering embers of the fire. He questioned the intelligence of the campfire, then shrugged it off. After they ate, he'd scout around, look for signs of encroaching enemies, then he'd start out on his quest.

  He hated waking Sarah. No doubt she needed more rest than she'd been getting. But, a driving purpose told him time would be a factor if he didn't press on.

  "Sarah, wake up. Sarah?" he shook her shoulder. She looked up at him in a dreamy, sleepy state, nearly taking his breath away. "Time to get up," he told her again.

  "What?"

  He smiled, moving back to the campfire. "Why don't you hurry down to the pond while I cook us up some breakfast?"

  "You're better?"

  "Must have been all that great care you gave me at the pond yesterday. Of course that delicious rabbit last night could have done it. I'm feeling much stronger." He realized she had been staring at his bare chest, discomfort crept in.

  "Why did you take the wrappings off? Won't you get dirt in the wounds? They'll become infected."

  "Fresh air is the best thing for them. The warm sun will aid in the healing, too," he said, looking down at the strips of cauterized skin. "I couldn't have done a better job myself."

  "How do you know so much about medicine and healing?"

  Two Shadows remained silent for a moment. He looked up to find her gaze locked on his. "My white father is a doctor. He taught me much as a boy." He could see his comment struck her solid.

  "You have a white father?" she asked, sitting up, fully alert.

  "Yes, I do have a white father and mother." He watched her brow crinkle in confusion.

  "I thought you were Blackfeet and lived with your people. You came with Blackfeet warriors. You spoke of your village. I don't understand. You look Indian."

  "I am Blackfeet...and white." When she flinched at the harshness of his tone, he squatted by the fire, busying himself so he wouldn't have to look at her. "I'm not proud of the fact, but I have white blood flowing through my veins. The white blood is bad."

  "Because it's white?"

  "No," he stated, a feeling of impatience filled him. "It's bad because the white man who fathered me took my mother by force. Not more than a child herself, she died when I came to live. Her name was Grass Woman. Her brother, Chief Deer Dancer, became my father. His sits-beside-him-wife, Lame Deer, became my mother. She had just lost her infant son to the white man's disease, so taking me to her breast brought much happiness in her heart."

  "I still don't understand. You said you had a white mother and father."

  "I guess I did. I will explain it quickly for you. When I had just passed my te
nth winter my horse slid down a muddy embankment. When we landed at the bottom of the gulch, my horse pinned me to the ground. It was not his fault, he had hurt himself and I listened to his pain. For a young man, to kill ones horse is a difficult thing. It is difficult for even a grown man. But, I knew it had to be done.

  I struggled for two days, unable to pull myself free. A Quaker couple, the Williams, found me. They were part of a wagon train. Beulah, that's my mother, and Lemuel, my father, went for a walk. They happened upon me. Beulah believed God's divine province had brought them to that spot. She felt a Christian duty to save my life and soul. I could tell Lemuel had his doubts, but he loved his wife and did everything she wanted."

  "So they rescued you and became your parents?" Sarah asked, pulling the blanket around her shoulders.

  "It wasn't all that easy. The wagon master didn't see things their way. Many of the Mormons did not agree with the Williams, but my parents persisted and my fate had been sealed. They took me with them. They tended to my injuries, taught me a civilized tongue—English—and the word of their God. I had only one thought in my mind; to get well so I could run back to my people." Two Shadows paused, images of those days filter back in his mind's eye.

  "Did you run away?" Sarah asked, leaning toward him.

  "Four years later I left, but I didn't have to run. In that short time I had become a white boy. I could read, write, and speak English like any Mormon son. I learned about broken bones and the white man's medicines from Lemuel." He watched Sarah. Her interest seemed genuine. She had a way of getting him to tell things he usually didn't talk about.

  "What is your white mother like?"

  "Beulah is a loving woman. Her hair is the color of wheat, like yours, only darker. Her smile could warm any heart. She has the gentleness that my Indian mother had. Beulah made me believe all white people are not greedy, selfish killers." Two Shadows added more wood to the fire. He glanced her way and noticed she silently waited for him to continue. He placed several stones in the fire.