Savage Courage

by Cassie Edwards

  She reached a hand up to her hair and ran her fingers through its thickness. She wished she had taken time to braid her hair before going to the fort. In that way, she would have looked totally Apache.

  Today she would show everyone who she truly was, and how she wished to live the rest of her life. She was proud of her Apache heritage, and could hardly wait to begin life as it would soon be with Storm.

  As the fort came in sight, Shoshana’s insides tightened. And when she realized they had been spied by the sentries, she felt a frisson of fear over what Storm had decided to do. After so many years of staying hidden in the mountains, avoiding these soldiers at all costs, he would now come face to face with them.

  She hoped that his generous offer of handing over the scalp hunter to them would be taken in the way it was meant—as a friendly gesture that would prove he was a man of peace.

  “Halt!” ordered one of the soldiers who had ridden out to meet them. He drew rein beside Storm, his hand on his holstered pistol as he gave Shoshana a surprised stare, then looked past her and looked in wonder at Mountain Jack.

  “He is now yours,” Storm said stiffly. “We found him. A panther had taken him to its den.”

  Another soldier rode up. His gaze met Shoshana’s. “What are you doing with Chief Storm?” he asked, his gaze slowly raking over her, taking in her Indian attire.

  “I would rather explain things to Colonel Hawkins,” Shoshana said, even now seeing the colonel riding toward them.

  When he drew rein a few feet away and gazed questioningly at Shoshana, then at Mountain Jack, and then at Storm, she felt her insides tightening. She went over what she had said in her note, how she had made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with the white community, especially soldiers.

  She knew that the words must have insulted the colonel, and felt that he looked at her now with antagonism.

  “Shoshana, why are you with Chief Storm?” Colonel Hawkins blurted out.

  “In my note I failed to tell you that Storm saved me after Mountain Jack took me hostage in his cabin,” Shoshana said, her eyes meeting the colonel’s. “Storm took me to his stronghold. There I was reunited with my true mother, who I believed dead ever since Colonel George Whaley rode into my village and spared no one . . . but . . . me. I want nothing more now than to live the rest of my life with my people, the Apache. I plan to marry Chief Storm soon.”

  “Marry?” Colonel Hawkins said, his eyes widening. “But, Shoshana, you have known nothing but how it is to live with white people. Can you truly live as an Apache?”

  “As I said, I want nothing more than that for myself,” she murmured.

  “Storm took a chance by coming today to bring the scalp hunter to you,” she said anxiously. “He knew that you could follow him and finally learn where his stronghold is. He trusted that you wouldn’t.”

  “That trust is appreciated,” Colonel Hawkins said, smiling at Storm. He glanced down at Mountain Jack, then looked at Storm again. “I appreciate this, Chief Storm. Know this: You will not be followed.”

  Then he gazed at Shoshana again. “Your father’s . . . I mean George Whaley’s . . . funeral is in a short time,” he said thickly. “Would you want to stay long enough to attend?”

  “Sir, in the past few days I have come to terms with George Whaley, who he was, and what he truly was to me. I have concluded that I was wrong ever to show any love for him,” she murmured. “As a child, he took everything precious from me. Only because the terrible day was erased from my mind was I able to show this man any love. After I remembered what happened that day, and how much I lost because of him, my love turned to loathing.”

  “Then you go on your way, my dear,” Colonel Hawkins said softly. He reached a hand out to Storm. “Chief Storm, thank you for what you did here today. We’ve been searching long and hard for this despicable man. I know you could’ve taken him to your stronghold and dealt with him in your own way. I’m glad you brought him here to meet his punishment.”

  “All I want is for my people to live in peace without being threatened by white-eyes,” Storm replied. “Do I have your word that you will not follow me and Shoshana?”

  “You have my word, and I will make certain none of the men under my command will go against that promise,” he said. He smiled at Shoshana again. “My dear, you deserve happiness. I do hope you find it with Storm and his people.”

  He cleared his throat. “I am so glad that you have been reunited with your mother,” he said. “Your true mother. Be happy, Shoshana. And know that I will never forget you.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Storm clasped the colonel’s hand and shook it, nodded, then waited for the travois to be detached from his steed. When it was done, he did not bother to take even one more look at the scalp hunter. He wheeled his horse around and rode toward his mountain, with Shoshana clinging to him, her cheek on his muscled back.

  Suddenly a voice rang out from behind them. “I’ll get you for this, you damn Apache!” Mountain Jack screeched. “I’ll . . . get . . . you, Shoshana!”

  Shoshana’s skin crawled at those words, but she knew that there was nothing more to fear from that man. She ignored his threat, as Storm ignored it.

  “Now we can concentrate on our marriage and on the rest of our lives together. We can concentrate on making plans to go to Canada,” she murmured. “All of the ugliness has been left behind us.”

  Storm gave her a smile over his shoulder, but could not help having doubts about what had been promised him. Too many white-eyes had spoken with a forked tongue to the Apache. How could he believe that the lies would stop just because he had handed over an evil man to these soldiers?

  “Yes, behind us,” he said, but only to help put Shoshana’s mind at rest.

  He glanced over his shoulder to be certain Colonel Hawkins had not sent soldiers to follow him and Shoshana.

  He could not get home quickly enough.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Yes! This is love,

  the steadfast and the true,

  the immortal glory

  which hath never set.

  —Charles Swain

  It seemed hardly possible to Shoshana that this day was really happening. She was getting ready for her wedding!

  Everything ugly was finally behind her.

  “Daughter, you have a visitor outside,” Fawn said as she stood back and admired Shoshana in the dress she had chosen to wear on her special day.

  Although Fawn would have preferred that her daughter dress in the way all Apache women were attired on the day of their marriage, in a doeskin dress, she did understand why Shoshana wanted to wear the gossamer gown.

  “Shoshana?”

  Dancing Willow’s voice came from outside Storm’s tepee.

  Fawn turned slowly as Shoshana, too, gazed toward the closed entrance flap.

  “Yes?” Shoshana said, not taking even one step toward the entranceway.

  She had stiffened at the sound of Storm’s sister’s voice, for how could she ever forget what Dancing Willow had done? She had pretended to be ill so that Storm would pay attention to her instead of keeping his mind on Shoshana. Dancing Willow had wanted Shoshana gone. She had not wanted her brother to bring her back to their stronghold.

  Dancing Willow had wanted Shoshana out of their lives forever!

  Now everything that Storm’s sister did was silently questioned by Shoshana. She did not believe the Seer could change her feelings so quickly.

  “I have brought you something special for your wedding,” Dancing Willow said, still speaking through the closed entrance flap. “Shoshana, may I bring it inside the lodge for you? I want to prove how sorry I am for what I did. But I can only do this if you will allow it.”

  Shoshana and her mother gave each other questioning gazes; then Fawn reached a gentle hand to Shoshana’s arm and nodded. “She is making an effort, my daughter,” she murmured. “I think you should at least see what she has for you. You know tha
t if you and Storm’s sister could put your differences behind you, it would make Storm very happy. He loves you both.”

  “Yes, I know,” Shoshana said, slowly running her hands down the softness of the dress that she had seen her adoptive mother wear only once. On that day, only a short time before she had died suddenly of a heart attack, she had been radiantly happy.

  Shoshana had seen how beautiful and content Dorothea had been that day. She had been dancing with her husband at a ball in Saint Louis while an orchestra played lovely waltz music for the huge room of dancers.

  “Then go, daughter, and hold aside the flap for Dancing Willow,” Fawn softly encouraged, breaking through Shoshana’s thoughts of her other mother. “Prove to her that you are a woman of good, generous heart.”

  Shoshana sighed, gazed into her mother’s faded brown eyes again, then went to the entrance flap and held it aside. “Come in,” she murmured. “It is so nice of you to care.”

  As Dancing Willow entered, Shoshana was very aware of the beautiful doeskin dress that Dancing Willow held stretched across her arms. Shoshana had admired her mother’s handiwork in the beads she had sewn onto her dresses. But this dress Dancing Willow held was even more breathtaking.

  Despite its loveliness, Shoshana did not believe the dress was an overture of friendship.

  Dancing Willow had openly resented Shoshana’s choice of the dress she was going to be married in. She had glared openly at Shoshana as she said it would not be right for her to wear the dress of a white woman at an Apache wedding.

  “I can tell that you think the dress is beautiful. I finished sewing it only this morning,” Dancing Willow said guardedly. “Shoshana, I was making it for myself, but decided that by putting extra beads on it to make it even more beautiful, I could transform it into the perfect dress for my brother’s woman to be married in.”

  “I thank you for your kindness and generous offer, Dancing Willow,” Shoshana said, seeing a look of triumph in the woman’s eyes. “But, as I have told you, I have already decided which dress to wear. As you see, I already have it on,” Shoshana said, reaching toward the frail, lovely gauzy skirt of the dress and holding it out away from herself. “There is also embroidery work on this dress. It was done by my adoptive mother. Do you not think it is beautiful? I know how you admire embroidery work.”

  Suddenly Dancing Willow’s eyes flared with anger. She flung the dress she had brought to the floor.

  That violent action caused Fawn to gasp and blanch and back away from Dancing Willow.

  Dancing Willow stepped up to Shoshana and spoke into her face. “You will shame my people if you wear a white woman’s dress when you marry their chief,” she hissed. “And the dress you will wed in is not just any dress. It is the dress of the wife of the very man who killed so many Apache . . . who . . .”

  Dancing Willow swallowed hard, for she could not say what she was thinking. It was hard to speak of how that man had taken the scalp and life of her stepmother, and had also taken her own father’s life.

  “It is insulting,” Dancing Willow said instead, her chin held high.

  “To you, everything about me is insulting,” Shoshana replied. “You would rather I had stayed angry at Storm when he said I was his captive. But our love is too strong for anything to keep us apart.”

  She took a step away from Dancing Willow. “I will wear my adoptive mother’s dress today, and there is nothing you can say or do that will change my mind,” she said tightly. “I know what George Whaley was guilty of doing to your people. But his wife had nothing to do with it. She had no role in any of the bad things her husband did. She had no control over him. She was a quiet woman, who bent to the will of her husband. I had a very happy life with this woman. She was the one who was responsible for my childhood happiness. She was precious to me. I am remembering her in this way.”

  Dancing Willow said nothing for a moment, then untied a small buckskin bag from the belt of her dress. “I am sorry I have made your day unpleasant,” she said, her voice soft and filled with . . . false . . . apology. “Shoshana, I have brought you something else. At least please take it, even if you do not take my dress.”

  As she held the bag out, Shoshana hesitated to take it. She just couldn’t feel comfortable about anything Dancing Willow did. It was not credible that she could be so hateful one minute, then sweet and understanding the next.

  Yet there she was . . . offering a gift.

  Shoshana wanted to refuse it, but she knew she must accept. If she made overtures of peace with Storm’s sister, she knew it would make him happy.

  For him only she held out her hand and accepted the small bag Dancing Willow placed on her palm. Shoshana saw a gleam in Dancing Willow’s eyes that made her realize the Seer was up to no good.

  “Please open it, Shoshana,” Dancing Willow murmured. “It is my way of apologizing for causing you distress on your wedding day.”

  “You are so kind,” Shoshana murmured, though she did not mean what she said at all. She was truly ill at ease about this bag. But she had no choice but to open it.

  She slowly untied the leather strings that held the bag tightly closed.

  “It is something you can wear on your wedding dress,” Dancing Willow said as again Shoshana paused before fully opening the bag. “It will bring you good luck in your marriage. I truly do apologize for not having been friendly to you, Shoshana. This gift is to make up for my actions. I have just found it so hard to trust anyone who is white . . . or should I say . . . who lived with whites.”

  “But, Dancing Willow, how can you feel that way when your very own brother, your people’s chief, is in part white?” Shoshana said, searching Dancing Willow’s eyes.

  “My brother’s heart is all Apache,” Dancing Willow said, her jaw tense. Then it relaxed again. She smiled at Shoshana. “Go ahead. See what I have brought for you to wear on your dress. It is lovely, Shoshana. Lovely!”

  Shoshana gave her mother a questioning gaze.

  Her mother nodded. With Fawn’s encouragement, Shoshana smiled and opened the bag.

  A huge black spider leapt out onto her dress. She was afraid to move or scream.

  Fawn stood there, frozen in fear.

  Storm stepped into the tepee just in time to see what was happening. He moved hurriedly around Dancing Willow, who was standing there smiling and gloating.

  “Do not be afraid,” he said as he held his hand out to the spider and let it crawl onto his palm. “Do you see, Shoshana? It is not poisonous. It was meant to frighten, to discourage, not to kill.”

  He turned and glared at Dancing Willow. “You shame your brother . . . you shame yourself . . . when you do things like this, especially to the woman your brother is going to marry,” he said dryly. “Dancing Willow, if you do anything else to the woman I love, you will no longer be my sister.”

  Dancing Willow paled. She gasped. Then she hurriedly apologized.

  “I will never ever do anything like this again,” she said, her voice breaking. “Truly, I will not.”

  Storm gave her a lingering gaze, then took the spider outside and placed it on the ground. When he went back inside, he drew Dancing Willow into his arms.

  “I understand why you are doing these things,” he said thickly. “Big sister, I promise never to put you far second in my life again. I am here for you always.”

  “I truly apologize for what I did,” Dancing Willow said, clinging to Storm. “And thank you for forgiving me . . . for understanding that I have been feeling so neglected. I was wrong to behave so childishly. I never shall again.”

  She stepped away from Storm and went to Shoshana. “I do apologize and I vow to you that I will never do anything against you again,” she murmured. She slowly reached her hands for Shoshana’s, hesitating, then took her hands in her own. “Let me prove it to you. Let me finish preparing you for your marriage. I will prepare your hair.” She looked over at Storm. “May I?”

  Seeing that his sister was seriously sorry ab
out what she had done, and knowing that it would take something special for Shoshana to forgive her, Storm smiled at his sister. “Yes, it is good that you wish to prepare my woman’s hair for her wedding,” he said softly. “But only if Shoshana feels comfortable about you doing it.” Perhaps this intimate ritual would break down the barrier of misunderstanding and mistrust between his sister and the woman he loved.

  Dancing Willow gazed into Shoshana’s eyes. “May I?” she murmured. “May I prepare your hair?”

  Shoshana looked over at Storm. She knew how badly he wanted her and Dancing Willow to be friends. She turned to Dancing Willow. “Yes, please do,” she murmured.

  She glanced at her mother, who was smiling. She was being very generous to Dancing Willow, for Fawn had wanted the special task of preparing her daughter’s hair for the wedding. But apparently she also saw the importance of Dancing Willow performing the task.

  Storm smiled and left the women to make their preparations, as he was going to make his own. He had to ready his face for the first kiss from his bride. He would pluck his whiskers, one at a time, with tweezers made of bent strips of tin.

  He would wash his hair and braid strips of white rabbit fur in one lone braid, worn to the side of his head.

  He would dress in his best buckskin, and smile as he awaited the moment that he and Shoshana would become husband and wife.

  “Do you know that our people’s hairbrush is made from the tail of a porcupine attached to a decorative handle?” Dancing Willow said, nodding a thankyou to Fawn as she handed the brush to her.

  “Yes, I am already familiar with that,” Shoshana said, trying not to be so stiff as Dancing Willow fussed over her. She couldn’t get the huge spider off her mind. How disgusting it was.

  Shoshana hoped that she was doing the right thing now to trust Dancing Willow.

  Dancing Willow brushed Shoshana’s hair until it was glistening, then parted her hair with a slender, pointed stick.