Along with feeling that their unborn baby’s life had been threatened during those many frightening moments when pains, and some blood, had interrupted her last pregnancy, there were moments when White Moon had feared for Shoshana’s life.
She placed her hand on her stomach now, resting it there against her doeskin dress.
She would do nothing to endanger this child’s life.
Nothing!
And she had no enemies such as Mountain Jack to fear, which might have threatened her and the child.
Thus far, no white man had come to interfere in the life of the Piñaleno River Band of Apache.
But she knew that could not last forever, for she knew how white men planned and schemed against all people with red skin.
Ho, yes, in time, she knew to expect the same sort of interference that she had seen happen in America.
But she would not dwell on that.
This was now.
Everything was wonderful!
While Storm was in council today, and their two children were with their Aunt Dancing Willow to spend the night with her, who still had not found a man for herself, Shoshana dropped the buckskin entrance flap and went and sat beside the fire and resumed beading herself a new pair of moccasins.
The ankle-high moccasins to which she was adding beads today were more lightweight, for spring and summer wear, very unlike the coarser, heavier, knee-high moccasins she wore during the blustery cold months of winter.
“Yes, the winters are very cold here,” she whispered to herself, wincing when she pricked her finger, then resumed sewing the colorful beads onto the doeskin, in the shape of spring flowers.
After they had arrived in Canada land, the erection of lodges was the first priority, because hints of winter had already begun to breathe across the land.
Since she was with child, Storm had not allowed Shoshana to help him build their home, but she had watched as he lovingly built their wickiup, as he thrust the long, slender poles into the ground about two feet apart, bent them inward until they met, and then bound them together at the top, leaving a little hole to let their lodge fire’s smoke out.
They had planned to live in the wickiup that first winter, and a log cabin the second winter and thereafter.
Shoshana had watched Storm skillfully weave branches into the framework and then cover it with bark and deerskins.
After the structure had been completed, she had watched him scoop dirt out in the floor at the far back of the lodge, from eighteen inches to two feet deep, to serve as their bedroom. He had secured it for warmth with flooring made of heavy bark, and then rich pelts that they had brought from Arizona.
The dirt that had been dug out had then been packed around the inside base of the wickiup, to give solidity to the house, and afford protection against driving storms.
A firepit had been dug in the center of the floor, where Shoshana had then lovingly prepared meals for her husband.
She found this way of life vastly different from how she had lived when she had been a part of the white man’s world.
But although the home she had lived in at Missouri had been what some called a mansion, she preferred her cabin, for it was her home.
She was glad that Storm had built a cabin, and much larger than most, for after she had borne one child, another had come only nine months later.
Now she was pregnant with a third, but only barely. Her stomach had not begun to swell yet.
But she was anxious for it to grow, for she would never forget the pride she had seen in her husband’s eyes those two times she had carried their children in her womb.
Yes, she had to do everything that was required to go full term with this child, and she, oh, so hoped it would be a daughter, to finally give her two sons, Two Moons and Panther Eyes, a sister.
Except for two things, both sons, age two and three, were the exact image of their father. Panther Eyes, the younger, had much lighter skin, and his hair was light brown, which seemed to reflect that part of Storm that had been white, taken after his white mother’s side of the family.
But in all other respects, this son had his father’s noble-featured face, flashing dark eyes, and a frame that proved that one day he would be as muscled as his father.
As Shoshana waited for Storm to return home, she again thought about the past winter, how the ground had been transformed into huge carpets of white, and how, during the first fierce blizzard, the snow had piled up in the coulees and built strange mounds around any obstruction of brush or rock that stood in its path.
Inside their lodges, the people had relaxed and waited for spring. She had soon discovered that winter and blizzards were as much a part of the Apache people’s life as the pleasant days of summer.
At times like this, a man could visit with friends, tell stories, and reminisce about the past.
A woman could finish some intricate quillwork on a pair of moccasins, repair her husband’s leather shirt, or teach their children songs of their people’s past.
When the Apache people of the village ran short of firewood, the younger girls hunted and collected buffalo chips, which burned hot and quick—too quickly, but if their mother hung a bit of fat, suspended above the fire so that it slowly dripped on the dung, it made it last longer and created a better heat.
At night, when the fire burned low and then went out, everyone wrapped themselves snugly in their buffalo robes and stayed there until the morning fire cast its tongues of heat into every part of the lodge.
Shoshana had been amazed that first time, when even though on the coldest mornings, her husband, along with the other men, insisted on stripping to their breechclouts to go outside to rub snow on their bodies.
Trim, fat, and hardened by life in the outdoors, they had adjusted to the cold so they could more easily withstand the rigors of the hunt.
“My wife is so deep in thought she does not even realize that her husband has returned home for those special moments we spoke of before he went into council with his warriors?” Storm said, drawing Shoshana’s eyes quickly up at him as he stood over her, his eyes twinkling.
Seeing him there, knowing what he meant when he spoke of “special moments,” Shoshana placed her sewing aside and rose to her feet and twined her arms around his neck.
“I was thinking of how cold it has been this past winter,” she murmured. She giggled softly. “I was getting to the part in my thoughts that would have snuggled us together in our blankets after the children were asleep in their own.”
“I should have waited longer before coming to you, so that thinking about our private moments in our blankets, when the children were not aware of what we were doing, could heat up your insides like the flame on the wick of our lamps, so that you would be better prepared for our lovemaking today,” Storm said huskily, his arms sweeping around Shoshana’s tiny waist.
He was still amazed to see how tiny she was after bearing two children, whereas so many women remained thick in the middle.
“Do you truly believe that I need thoughts to ‘prepare’ me?” Shoshana teased. “My love, all I need is you, your hands, your mouth, your lips—”
“All are yours,” Storm said, softly interrupting her.
“Now?” Shoshana teased again, her eyes dancing into his.
“Yes, now, except first I wish to show you something very special,” he said. He reached a hand out for her. “Come. I want you to share the magic of the moment.”
Anxious to see what he was talking about, she moved eagerly to her feet and took his hand.
She went outside with him and walked to a slight hill beyond the village, where they had a good look at the river in the distance.
“They are still here,” Storm said, sliding an arm around her waist. “Now do you see why I call it magic?”
She gasped with delight as she looked and saw what Storm was so in awe of. Now, in early spring, along the river, migratory sandhill cranes poured in, attracted by the shallow rivers’ abundant roosting
sites and meadows.
Looking like legions of gray ghosts from a distance, the birds covered the meadows and water from one end to the other.
Now more were flying low over the river, their voices rising and falling as they approached, then passed overhead and disappeared.
Storm whisked Shoshana up into his arms, carrying her back home and to their bedroom.
Standing beside their bed of blankets and rich pelts, Storm undressed Shoshana. Then she stood before him nude and unclothed him.
And when the fire cast its golden light on their copper skins, Storm again swept Shoshana into his arms, then lay her on their bed, and soon stretched out atop her, their bodies already straining hungrily against each other’s.
“My love, will it always be this way?” Shoshana murmured breathlessly as Storm brushed kisses from one breast to another. “Will our love always be this strong, this magical?”
“I will make it so,” he said, leaning up to gaze into her eyes. “I will always give you such loving.”
His fingers caressed her breasts and then made a slow, sensuous descent downward until he found her swollen, throbbing womanhood and began caressing her there.
She twined her arms around his neck. She smiled sweetly up at him, then inhaled a quavering breath of ecstasy and trembled when he parted her thighs and gently thrust himself inside her damp valley and began the rhythmic strokes that she knew would soon carry her to paradise.
He bent his head and touched her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss, his strokes within her speeding up, her hips responding in her own rhythmic movement.
She was responding to every nuance of his lovemaking, a blaze of desire firing her insides into an almost roaring inferno.
Her whole body quivered as he continued his rhythmic thrusts.
She had a lethargic feeling of floating.
Passion glazed in her eyes as her husband paused for a moment and gazed down at her. “How fiercely I always want you,” he said huskily. “I never have enough of you.”
“Nor I you,” Shoshana breathed out, her pulse racing as again he began his thrusts, his mouth closing hard upon hers in a hot, even more demanding kiss than before.
Storm could feel the pulsing crest of his passion, the fires of his passion spreading through him. Their bodies tangled as he molded her even more closely to the contours of his lean, muscled body.
And then both of their bodies exploded in spasms, taking them once again to that place of wonder where no one else could enter.
Afterwards, as they lay on their bed, Shoshana reached for Storm’s hand and placed it on her stomach. “I feel so blessed,” she murmured. “Another child, Storm. We are going to have another child!”
She turned to him and smiled softly at him. “Do you remember those years ago when we were thinking we might have twins, and you even mentioned possibly triplets?” she asked softly. “Are you disappointed that we are having children one at a time?”
“Nothing you do could ever disappoint me,” Storm said, slowly running his hands across her belly. “You have given me the world, Shoshana. How could I ever complain about anything?”
“I just want to have a daughter,” she murmured, snuggling closely to him. “Do you think we’ll have a daughter this time?”
“Wish hard enough for it, and it will be yours,” Storm said, smiling at her. “I shall also wish for the same.”
“Dancing Willow says she has already dreamed about this child and she did see it as a girl baby,” Shoshana said, sighing pleasurably at the thought. “But, truly, my love, I shall be happy with whatever Maheo blesses us with. All children are miracles.”
“As it was a miracle that we found one another when all things would point against it ever happening,” Storm said, running his fingers through her waist-length black hair. “Had I come to Canada earlier, we would not have met, but something held me back. That something was you. You were beckoning to me, Shoshana. You were saying, ‘Storm, Storm, I am near, please wait . . . please wait.’ ”
“Yes, I truly believe so,” Shoshana said, nodding. “And here we are, man and wife, mother and father, and happier than I had ever thought could be humanly possible.”
“I have news for you that I purposely waited to tell you because I could hardly wait to make love with you,” Storm said, sitting up. He smiled down at her as she turned on her back to gaze up at him.
“What is it?”
“You know how glad I was that another band of Apache had eluded the United States government and fled to Canada land, and settled not far down-river from us,” he said.
“Yes, I know how happy you were that more Apache had escaped a reservation sort of life,” she murmured.
“My wife, one of the warriors there came to join our council today and spoke to me of something beside the hunt,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“What could he speak of that would bring such a twinkle into your eyes?” Shoshana asked as she sat up next to him.
“This man, who is one winter older than Dancing Willow, has come to ask to court my sister,” Storm said, beaming. “I went to Dancing Willow with the news. I have never seen her smile so brightly.”
“She truly is interested in him, as well?” Shoshana asked, her eyes wide in wonder. “Did she remember him when you spoke his name to her?”
“Ah, yes, she remembered,” he said, chuckling. “He has been here several times now for council, and has joined one hunt with me and my warriors this early spring. Each time he has managed to somehow walk into the path of my sister. She has also seemed to manage it that they would meet. It began, I believe, the first time they saw one another.”
“And so you gave him permission to court her?” Shoshana asked, happy for Dancing Willow, for she had mellowed since arriving in Canada land. Shoshana thought it might have been her nephews that had caused the change.
She enjoyed them so much, Shoshana had begun to see that Dancing Willow felt that she had missed something in not having children.
“She is my big sister. No one needs permission from me for what Dancing Willow does. She can answer for herself, especially about a man,” Storm said, chuckling.
“I am so happy for her,” Shoshana said, moving into Storm’s arms. “Is it not wonderful, Storm, how things are for us all in Canada land? There is such an air of peace in our village.”
“Yes, I see it and feel it, too,” Storm said. He sighed. “I strive to see that it remains that way. But there is only so much that I can do. Now it depends on the Canadian government and how they choose to see the red man—as friend? Or enemy?”
Shoshana clung to him and refused to think anything negative at this time, for her life was so different from what it had been when she had been forced to live the life of white people.
She was, oh, so content to be with her true people, to have a husband such as Storm.
Before departing from the stronghold, she had realized the importance of leaving everything behind that had to do with that other life.
She had left all mementos of her past at the stronghold.
Even the dress that she had been married in. It did not belong in her world now, and she now realized that she should not have even worn it on her wedding day.
But everything of this life was new to her, and she had still clung to the love she had had for her adopted mother.
That was the only reason she had worn the dress . . . in honor of her.
She remembered leaving it with her other things, buried beneath rocks. She had thought that perhaps she should have burned them in case whites might find the stronghold and somehow trace her personal possessions back to her.
But she knew that she would be long gone by then and safe in Canada where the United States had no jurisdiction.
Once the border was crossed, Shoshana and those she loved of this Apache band were finally free.
And ah, how she delighted in their children, and no, she would never look back at what had been, nor would she look ahead at what mi
ght happen that could be bad for the Piñaleno River Band of Apache.
For now, it was a wonderful place to be . . . with her husband, her children, her Apache people!
She could not ask for more than this!
Not in her lifetime!
“It took four years, but finally we found Chief Storm’s stronghold,” Colonel Hawkins said tightly. “But damn it, we’re four years too late.”
He looked around him where the remains of tepees and wickiups had been, all but the poles thrust in the ground having fallen away.
It was as though he was looking at skeletal remains, and it did make him angry that he had allowed Storm to get away.
The ruling had come down shortly after he’d had that one meeting with Chief Storm, when Storm had handed the scalawag scalp hunter over to him, that all Apache must be sent to reservations.
None were to be spared.
Not even those who had never caused the cavalry any problems.
As Washington had stated it, no red man could be trusted, that if they chose to rebel, many white lives could be taken in Arizona, especially of the settlers who trusted the government to protect them.
“I don’t know why it was so important to catch this one Apache chief,” Lieutenant Jake Turner said as he sidled his horse closer to Colonel Hawkins.
“It’s just the principle of the thing,” Hawkins grumbled. “If I’m told to round up all Apache, why would I let even one escape?”
“But he never caused anyone any problems,” Lieutenant Turner said flatly. “And you know that Chief Storm’s wife was Colonel Whaley’s adopted daughter. He’d not have wanted you to do anything that might cause her harm.”
“Yes, and I’m sure Colonel Whaley turned over in his grave when Shoshana married that savage chief,” Colonel Hawkins said, riding slowly onward, weaving his horse around things that lay on the ground. “I just know this was Chief Storm’s stronghold. And damn if he didn’t have it hidden away in such an ungodly place. No wonder it was never found before today.”
“I thought after you found Mountain Jack’s body shortly after he escaped, and you surmised that he was killed by the Apache chief, that that was enough for you to forget chasing after Chief Storm,” the lieutenant said. “He did you a favor, so why not return the favor and let him live in peace?”
Savage Courage Page 22
