Night Wind's Woman

by tiffy

  ʺYou are early, but I am glad you have come so precipitously,ʺ Joaquín responded.

  ʺI wonder at that, Brother. When I first pleaded with Father Bartolome to send you as her rescuer, I did not dream that you would abuse your wife!ʺ He glanced from Joaquín to Orlena. ʺI am bidden to escort you away from hereanywhere you wish to go. We can make a home in the City of Mexico with Don Bernal or we can return to Spain.ʺ

  ʺAnd I may bring my son and Ana with me? Is that the arrangement the two of you have made?ʺ she asked, her mood shifting mercurially from trembling anger to an oddly smiling calm. Soon you will be given a choice. Now she had the answer to her foster motherʹs riddlethe answer to so many things that had vexed her over the past years.

  ʺThat is what your husband wrote Bartolome before the child was born,ʺ

  Santiago replied dubiously, the gun still trained on his brother. Then his eyes widened at her words. ʺThe child! It is a boy? Is he well, Orlena?ʺ

  She smiled serenely, like a well‐fed cat, as she slowly rounded the table and walked over to stand beside her tall young brother, so gravely holding that ridiculous pistol on her husband. ʺYes, young Bartolome is well. She Who Dreams will show you your new nephew. Give me the pistol, Santiago, and leave this half‐caste rogue to me. Make haste, for I would finish our conversation in private!ʺ She reached out and took the weapon from his hand.

  Slack‐jawed in amazement at the sudden shift in Orlenaʹs emotions, Santiago did not resist. Something was decidedly wrong! Joaquínʹs face remained shuttered, his body rigid. Blessed Virgin, she would not shoot her own husband, would she? ʺOrlena, come with me and let us prepare to leave,ʺ he began hesitantly.

  Her smile was blinding and devilish now as she replied, ʺI think not, little brother. You had best heed my instruction, else you will be shocked by what I will do next.ʺ

  ʺYou would not shoot him?ʺ he cried, aghast.

  ʺThat depends on how well you both can follow instruction. Now, do as I say and seek out your nephew. You will find that he is quite splendid, I think.ʺ She almost shoved the tall, russet‐haired youth from the room, then closed the door behind him and leveled the pistol on Joaquín, who remained motionless, his expression inscrutable.

  He watched the amber light glint in her eyes as her lips curved in a wicked smile.

  ʺCome here. Take off your clothes,ʺ she commanded boldly.

  His lips, too, became mobile as he replied with a devilish gleam in his eyes, ʺThink you this is the best place, Lioness? At the mountain outpost, we had at least a pallet in the room . . . of course, there is this table.ʺ He gestured to the paper strewn surface behind him. ʺOr, do I misread your intention?ʺ

  Her face became serious as she lowered the gun. ʺI love you, Joaquín. I will never leave you, not for all the gold a whole fleet of Spanish galleons carries.

  Butʺshe raised the weapon again and walked provocatively toward himʺI may lose patience if you dally longer. I could just graze you to prove my pointand have you at my mercy.ʺ

  His heart felt as if it would burst from his chest. ʺI only wanted to offer you freedom, Lioness,ʺ he whispered huskily as he reached out and took the gun from her, tossing it onto the table.

  ʺNow you see that I am free to choose, Joaquín, and I have chosen,ʺ she whispered as she looped her arms about his neck while he swept her into his arms and carried her toward the door. She stopped kissing him only long enough to reach down and pull open the latch. He walked down the hall to the last room at the far corner, where he had been sleeping alone the past bitter months.

  Santiago rushed toward the courtyard where She Who Dreams had just carried her sleeping grandson to meet his namesake. The Franciscan held him and stared gravely into the tiny face of young Bartolome. ʺSo, he has been named the Lion Cub according to your Lipan custom. Now I think it would be fitting for him to be baptized according to our Christian custom. What think you, Grandmother?ʺ

  His clear gray eyes danced merrily as he looked from the content infant to the shrewd old woman.

  She Who Dreams smiled serenely. ʺYour ceremonial washing did not harm Night Wind or Sun in Splendor. I think it cannot harm their children either.ʺ

  ʺChildren, eh?ʺ He chuckled. ʺYou are an optimist to hope for more children.ʺ

  Then he paused and studied her face carefully. ʺUnless . . . you were the one who knew we would arrive this day! Do you read the future, Medicine Woman? I have heard some of your people possess such gifts.ʺ

  ʺSpirits do not always tell allonly what we need to know,ʺ she replied with deliberate vagueness.

  He smiled. ʺAnd you know all will be well for Joaquín and Orlena?ʺ He looked up at Santiagoʹs flushed face as the youth approached them hesitantly, his eyes transfixed by the sleepy baby. ʺI take it your sister is not in need of rescue?ʺ

  Santiago shrugged helplessly, still staring in awe at the child. ʺI do not understand any of it. When I heard them arguing, Iʺhe hesitated in embarrassmentʺI drew my pistol and told Orlena I was taking her away from here. I offered her a safe haven and a fine life with Cousin Bernal.ʺ

  ʺWhich she refused,ʺ Bartolome interjected gently.

  ʺShe did more than that! She took the pistol from me and leveled it at Night Wind. I feared for a moment she would shoot himʺ

  Fray Bartolomeʹs laughter interrupted the mortified youth. ʺNever fear that, but I do believe our bold raider is in for quite a surpriseone that he will vastly enjoy,ʺ

  he added, continuing to chuckle.

  ʺOrlena told me to come out here and see my nephew,ʺ Santiago replied, looking eagerly at the swaddled bundle that now began to fuss and kick.

  She Who Dreams took the infant from Bartolome and thrust him at the curious, yet hesitant, youth. ʺHere. You must hold Lion Cub.ʺ

  ʺI have never held a baby. I am afraid I might hurt him. He is so small. . . .ʺ

  Santiago was forced to accept the wiggling infant from the insistent grandmother. Almost at once, young Bartolome sighed and again drifted off to sleep, held by his entranced young uncle. <><><><><><><><><><><><> Joaquín set Orlena down inside the bedroom door. While he slipped the bolt, she clung to him, her arms wrapped about his neck as she rained soft, nibbling kisses about his face, throat, and chest. She could feel the slamming of his heart against his ribs as he enfolded her in his arms and pressed her tightly to him.

  ʺI have missed you, my Sun in Splendor,ʺ he whispered hoarsely as he buried his face in her tangled golden hair.

  Holding his face with her soft slim hands, she said simply, ʺI love you, husband.

  I will have no other.ʺ Her eyes met his and she felt a thrill of recognition as she stared into their fathomless emerald depths. At last she could see behind them, into his soul. What she beheld robbed her of breath.

  ʺI have loved you for so long and I have been too frightened to confess it, even to myself. To love is to let go of all the old hates. Ever since I was a boy, Bartolome has told me this would be so, but when it happenedwith youI was afraid to do as my heart bade me. When I stole you from Conal, you stole my heart. I have done cruel, foolish things to you, Lioness. Do you forgive me?ʺ

  ʺYou already have your answer, for you stole not only my body, but my heart, too, Joaquín. We have both misunderstood, but time comes full cycle. We have the chance to begin again. All those who would harm us are banished. We are free.ʺ

  ʺThen let us begin again,ʺ he whispered as he lowered his mouth and devoured her lips. ʺYou commanded me to take off my clothes,ʺ he said raggedly when at last they broke off the kiss.

  ʺWhen a lioness commands, best beware her claws,ʺ Orlena said as she ran her nails lightly down his chest, pulling open the soft cotton shirt. Joaquín quickly shed it and kicked off his moccasins, then began to unlace his buckskin pants, saying huskily, ʺYou see how well I obey your command.ʺ A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. ʺWith far less resistance than you gave me when first I ordered you to disrobe.ʺ

  She smiled and ran her hands o
ver the dark, sinuous contours of his chest and arms. ʺI said I would disrobe for my lawful husband . . . and so I shall.ʺ She watched as he peeled down his tight breeches. Then she stood back to inspect his naked male beauty. He was magnificent, bronzed and slim, his sculpted face softened by love. Orlena began to tremble with desire.

  ʺIt has been so longso long, my love,ʺ she said softly as she began to pull her buckskin tunic over her head.

  Joaquín stroked her breasts through the sheer cotton chemise that still shielded them, hefting the swollen globes, feeling the nipples harden at his touch.

  She gasped softly at the exquisite sensations and then said unsteadily, ʺYou must see to my leggins, I fear, for I have not the strength to unlace them.ʺ

  He lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the bed where he sat her down and knelt at her feet. With nimble fingers he untied the buckskin laces and pulled the leggins free. Tossing them in the corner, he said, ʺYou see how obliging I am, Lioness. Not only do I disrobe myself, but you as well.ʺ

  His long tapered fingers worshipped her pale silky flesh as he took the last of her clothing from her body. When she was as completely naked as he, he ran one hand across her flat little belly in wonder. ʺOur babe made you swell so, I feared for you, Lioness, but now . . .ʺ His roving fingers moved higher to the heaviness of her milk‐laden breasts. He was rewarded by a sharp intake of her breath as she pulled him down to suckle and taste of their bounty.

  ʹʹI will rob my son of his dinner,ʺ he whispered as she moaned and arched against him.

  In answer, Orlena pulled his head up to kiss him. Their legs and arms entwined as they rolled across the wide soft bed. Her long golden hair wrapped about his shoulders like a mantle as they deepened the kiss, their tongues dueling and their breaths mingling in frenzied passion. Orlena bucked and writhed against the hardness of his phallus, eager for the joining of their flesh, but Joaquín slowly quieted her, holding her above him as he lay on his back. He struggled to speak.

  ʺI do not want to hurt you, Lioness. The birth wasʺ

  ʺNearly two months ago. I am completely healed,ʺ she interrupted, boldly reaching down to grasp his shaft and stroke its steely hot length until he was robbed of all reason. He reached up and positioned her above him with her legs straddling his hips.

  ʺStop me if I hurt you,ʺ he whispered raggedly as he lowered her onto his hard, velvety sex. She slid down with desperate hunger, slickly enveloping him. Once seated and fully impaled, she dug her hands into his shoulders and tossed her hair back to brush and tease his thighs. Involuntarily he arched up and she moved with him, pulling him closer, deeper.

  ʺThe only hurt has been waiting for this, beloved.ʺ She rose as he guided her hips with his hands, his fingers digging into the sleek muscles of her buttocks. Orlena rode him with savage intensity until he stilled her runaway passion by holding her against him as he struggled to regain control. She sobbed in frustration, then melted against him, bending down to kiss his lips. When she felt his arms again strain to lift her and resume their pagan ride, she quickly accommodated her hips to his thrusts.

  Burying her face against the straining tendons where his neck met his shoulder, she muffled her cries of ecstasy and met the long‐awaited, aching crest. Feeling her climax, Joaquín released all control and thrust wildly, swelling and exploding deep within her, adding even more to the intensity of her release. Her nails clawed into his shoulders as she felt him spill his seed high and hot in her womb. As the convulsive, exquisite pleasure gradually subsided, they lay fused together, sweat‐soaked and panting, satiated so utterly in body and soul neither could move or speak.

  Yet they communicated in the lush silence of the room, lying on the bed, simply holding each other. When they finally regained their breath, he gently rolled them to lie on their sides, facing each other, still intimately joined. ʺWill you always be so eager to obey my commands?ʺ she asked him in a throaty purr.

  ʺAs long as they lead to this end, your every command is my devoutest dutyand delight,ʺ he replied. His hand brushed some strands of tangled gold from her face as he caressed her cheek. Their breaths mingled as they kissed softly, gently.

  With her thick, dark lashes veiling her eyes, Orlena whispered, ʺNever have I known such peace as I do now . . . Yetʺher eyes flashed open and met hisʺI would not chain you with my fears for your life. The Night Wind must ride to free our people.ʺ

  ʺYou and our son will keep me here far more often now, but I honor your bravery and your love for the Indians, Lioness.ʺ

  ʺWe will work with Bartolome. I will do what I can to help with resettling those who are rescued.ʺ She hesitated and tightened her arms about his shoulders. ʺI was jealous of Morena, Joaquín, but I am sorry for her death. She loved you and did not mean to betray you.ʺ

  ʺI know that is true, my love, but I used her ill, bringing you to her home where it could cause naught but hurt for you both. Do not blame yourself, for it is more my fault than anyoneʹs that she is dead. But we can carry on the work she and the good father have been doing.ʺ

  Orlena suddenly stiffened in his arms. ʺFather Bartolome! If Santiago is here at your request, so must the priest be, too!ʺ She reddened in mortification. How long had the lovers been closeted away since she sent her brother off to see his nephew?

  Reading her thoughts, a laugh rumbled up from his chest and he rained light kisses across her heated face. ʺI think Bartolome is quite politic enough to wait until we choose to show ourselves. I am certain he is already well met with She Who Dreams, bargaining for the baptism of his namesake.ʺ

  ʺThink you he will win?ʺ she asked teasingly.

  ʺShe Who Dreams is a very tolerant woman,ʺ he replied, then drew her back into his embrace. ʺNow, let us see to making more children for the good Franciscan to baptize.ʺ

  Orlena most willingly complied with her husbandʹs proposal. Now their future stretched toward the horizon, as vast and full of promise as the fertile valley where they lived.

  Authorʹs Note

  The theme of this book is integrally related to La Leyenda Negra, the Black Legend of the Spanish Conquest of the Southwest. The war between Spaniards and Native Americans began with Cortez and continued down through the centuries. Both sides were guilty of appalling cruelty, but if the Spanish stand indicted more strongly in this story, it is perhaps because I share the heroineʹs rather idealistic view that as men of the Enlightenment, they should have behaved better. One of the most perplexing problems historians must analyze is the role violence plays in the birth of any new culture. In spite ofor mayhap because ofthis savage scene, La Raza, the new Indian‐Spanish race, was born.

  Conal Quinn and Ignacio Valdéz are representative of the worst excesses of the Europeans; Cloth Fox and Quick Slayer are their Apache counterparts. But to balance the killers, there are men of peace like Bartolome and women of tolerance like She Who Dreams. With my protagonists, Joaquín and Orlena, European and Native American values clash head on, but love triumphs over hate. Anyone who has seen the murals of Diego Rivera in Mexico City will understand what I have tried to do in this story.

  I chose the Lipan Apache as my heroʹs people for a variety of reasons, chief among them being the role women played in their culture and their monogamous marriage customs. I found a number of sources helpful in learning about this remarkable tribe. The standard authority on the Apache is Morris Opler, who edited the Apache Indians series. Volume X on the Lipan was especially valuable. Andree F. Sjobergʹs article, ʺLipan Apache Culture in Historical Perspective,ʺ in volume nine of the Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, enlightened me about their methods of hunting and gathering, their medical skills, and their burial practices. For visuals, I highly recommend Thomas E. Mailʹs The People Called Apache. The Handbook of North American Indians, Volume X, gives a detailed account of ʺApachean Cultural Patterns.ʺ As a primary source, I found the Garland Series on Indian Captivities, Volume 107, ʺBucklew the Indian Captive,ʺ to be an excellent firsthand account of a ma
n held by the Lipan. As to how Native Americans fared at the hands of Europeans, L. R.

  Baileyʹs Indian Slave Trade in the Southwest was highly informative.

  The Southwestʹs violent and colorful history has been well chronicled by a wide variety of historians. Max Moorhead is their dean, a man who has devoted a lifetime of study to the Spanish borderlands. New Mexicoʹs Royal Road and The Presidio: Bastion of the Spanish Borderlands are two of his works on which I drew heavily. Marc Simmonsʹ Spanish Government in New Mexico is a fascinating and detailed analysis of the political and economic system of the Spanish military and its vital role in the conquest of the Southwest.

  For information on how the people of New Mexico spent their daily lives, Oakah L. Jones, Jr.ʹs Los Paisanos is a fine resource, not only for its insight into that province, but as a window on the rank and file of Spanish settlers across New Spain. Old Santa Fe by Ralph Emerson Twitchell paints a vivid portrait of the legendary city of the Holy Faith, Spainʹs farthest outpost in her Internal Provinces.

  I love to hear from my readers. All letters with S.A.S.E. answered. Please write to me at:

  P.O. Box 72

  Adrian, MI 49221

  Shirl Henke

  Document Outline

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Author's Note

  Table of Contents

  Unnamed

  Chapter 1