Love in the Wind

by Madeline Baker

  “The Grandfather must be mind-gone-far,” Iron Wing muttered angrily. “No man travels when the land is white with snow.”

  Tall Buffalo nodded as he passed the pipe to his friend. “Yes, crazy in the head,” he agreed, tapping his temple with one long brown finger. “The Grandfather has wanted war for a long time. The white men have been eager to drive us away from our land. They know we will not drag our people through the snow. They want war.”

  “I think you are right, my brother,” Iron Wing remarked thoughtfully. His dark eyes glowed fiercely. “If it is war they want, we will give it to them!”

  War! Katy stared at the two men in horror. She had lost her father and Robert because red man and white man could not live together in peace. She could not bear to lose Iron Wing too, not now when he was so precious to her.

  Troubled, she knelt beside Iron Wing and laid her hand on his arm. “You will not fight?” she asked anxiously. “You would not leave me?”

  “I am a warrior,” Iron Wing said firmly. “If my people fight, I fight with them.”

  Yellow Flower threw a concerned glance at Katy. The white girl had learned much of Indian ways, but she did not yet fully understand the pride of a warrior. It would be hard for Katy to let Iron Wing go, especially when he went to fight the white man. If Katy could not be made to realize why Iron Wing must fight, there would be hard feelings in their lodge.

  Yellow Flower sat quietly for a moment, until the two men were deep in a discussion about the many devious ways of the soldier coats. Then, with a loving smile, she moved closer to Katy.

  “A Cheyenne warrior is not like other men,” Yellow Flower said softy, so the men could not hear her words. “He is a fighter, and he has a strong heart. Iron Wing is a leader among our people. Some say he will be chief one day. If there is war, he must go. Many of our young men look to him for courage. He has counted many coup, more than any other warrior in our village. It would shame him to stay home while others went to defend our people.”

  Katy stared at Yellow Flower in confusion. What good was honor if your man was dead?

  “Don’t you care that Tall Buffalo might be killed in battle?” Katy asked. “Aren’t you afraid for his life?”

  “Of course I am afraid for him,” Yellow Flower answered impatiently. “But I would not shame him by asking him to stay home with the women. He must go, just as Iron Wing must go.”

  “But they cannot win a war against the whites,” Katy declared vehemently. “The whites have many more men and many more guns than the Cheyenne.”

  “Our men are worth ten washichu,” Yellow Flower retorted arrogantly. “They are not afraid of the white men, or their firesticks.”

  “Then they are fools,” Katy snapped.

  There was a sudden silence in the lodge, and Katy realized that Tall Buffalo and Iron Wing had been listening to her conversation with Yellow Flower.

  “We are not fools,” Iron Wing said stiffly. “We are free men. We were here before the white man crossed the Big Water, and we will fight to stay here.”

  “But you can’t win,” Katy argued stubbornly.

  “We must fight for what is ours,” Tall Buffalo said. “It is better to die with honor than to live on the white man’s reservation; better to die like a man than live with our tails between our legs like dogs.”

  Katy stared at Iron Wing. His face was closed against her, his eyes dark with anger. She suddenly felt far removed from him, a stranger, and she knew that even though she might master the Cheyenne tongue and wear buckskin dresses and moccasins, she would never fully understand the Indian mind or the Indian heart.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, and left the lodge without a backward glance.

  For a moment, she stood outside, undecided, and then she walked swiftly toward the river. How easily they talked of fighting and dying, as if it was of no importance whether a man lived or died, so long as he died with honor. But honor would not comfort her on a cold night.

  “Ka-ty?”

  “You move as quiet as a shadow,” Katy muttered. She stared at the frozen river. It was silver in the moonlight, as cold as the pain in her heart. A wolf howled far off, and she shivered, chilled by the wind blowing through the trees and by the wolf’s lonely wail.

  “Ka-ty, look at me.”

  Slowly, she turned to face him. “Do not be angry, Ka-ty. I must do what I must do. I cannot be less than a man, not even for you.”

  “I thought you cared for me,” Katy murmured. “I thought I was as important to you as you are to me.”

  “You know I care for you,” Iron Wing retorted irritably. “Why are you talking nonsense?”

  “It isn’t nonsense! No woman wants her man to go to war. I don’t want to live without you. I could not bear it if you died.”

  “I will not die.”

  “Every man I love dies,” Katy cried in despair. “First my father and Robert were killed by Indians, and now you’ll be killed by white men.” She laughed bitterly at the cruel irony of it all. “Oh, Iron Wing!” she sobbed brokenly. “Please don’t go to war!”

  Tears streaming down her cheeks, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in the hard wall of his chest.

  Iron Wing held her while she cried, one big hand gently stroking the silky mass of her hair. He could understand her fears, but he could not give in to the wishes of a woman. He was a man, a warrior. It was good to die in battle, with a war cry on your lips and a weapon in your hand. No warrior who was worthy of the name could stay behind with his woman and still be a man.

  He pressed his lips against Katy’s cheek and tasted the salt of her tears. A gust of wind whistled across the icebound river and he felt Katy shiver violently against him. Foolish woman, he thought tenderly, to come outside without the protection of a robe to turn about the cold.

  “Come,” he said, taking her arm. “We must go back to the lodge.”

  With a small nod, Katy let Iron Wing lead her back to their lodge. Inside, he removed her wet moccasins and rubbed her feet, his eyes dark with worry. She looked so pale, her skin felt so cold. He offered her a cup of tea, insisted she drink it all, then carried her to their bed and slid in beside her, drawing her close to warm her.

  “Iron Wing, please don’t go.”

  Gently, he caressed her cheek, the back of her neck. “We will not speak of it now,” he said. “The time of new grass is many days away. Perhaps war will not come. Perhaps the Grandfather in Washington will realize his foolishness and change his mind.”

  Perhaps, Katy thought doubtfully, and perhaps deer would fly like eagles. She wanted to press Iron Wing further, to make him promise he would not go, but his hands and his lips were working their familiar magic on her quivering flesh, chasing everything from her mind but the swift surge of passion that his touch unfailingly aroused.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Spring, 1876

  It was spring once more. The river overran its banks, the trees grew full and green, and the prairie abounded with new life.

  Yellow Flower was pregnant again, and she fairly glowed with the prospect of motherhood.

  Sun Dreamer, the tribal shaman, was seriously ill. His oldest son, Walks-the-Clouds, stayed close to the old medicine man’s side. Walks-the-Clouds had been studying for many years to become the tribe’s next healer. He had practiced every cure his father had taught him, but to no avail. The old man was dying.

  The first hunt of the year was a big success. That night, when everyone was full and happy, there was a sweetheart dance. All the women and young girls danced in a circle to the soft beat of a single drum. Katy danced with the women for the first time, feeling her heart beat with excitement. It was good to be alive. It had been a mild winter, with few deaths and little sickness. There was fresh meat in the village. Even Sun Dreamer appeared to be feeling better.

  Katy’s feet moved in time to the music, easily following the simple steps of the dance, so different from the waltzes and polkas she had once known. Soon the
music would change, and each woman would leave the circle to tap her husband or sweetheart on the shoulder, and then the man would join the dance.

  When the time came, Katy walked toward Iron Wing and lightly touched his shoulder. He rose smoothly to his feet and followed her back to the circle. Joining hands, they continued the dance.

  From the shadows, Quiet Water watched Iron Wing and Katy. The white woman gazed into Iron Wing’s eyes, her face positively glowing with love and happiness. Quiet Water felt a swift surge of jealousy. She had refused to marry Iron Wing because his looks had repelled her. What good was a brave husband if just looking at his scars made you sick to your stomach? She had wanted a handsome husband, and she had chosen Black Arrow, who was one of the handsomest warriors in the village. Sadly, it had taken only a few weeks to discover that Black Arrow was a lazy hunter, a compulsive gambler, a negligent husband. Reluctantly, Quiet Water admitted her parents had spoken the truth. It took more than just good looks to make a good husband. Ironically, once Iron Wing’s scars had healed, they faded until they were scarcely visible.

  Quiet Water looked at Iron Wing and felt her pulse quicken with desire. His thick black hair hung loose about his broad shoulders. He was clothed in a sleeveless doeskin vest that emphasized his muscled arms and shoulders. Fringed leggings hugged his strong legs. The bear claw necklace was at his throat, a symbol of his courage.

  Quiet Water scowled as Katy and Iron Wing left the dance to walk hand in hand into the shadows.

  Several days passed, and Quiet Water grew more and more discontented with her husband. Even his good looks and charming smile failed to cheer her, and she felt her hatred for the white woman grow. Iron Wing was a good husband, obviously a talented lover. One had only to see the way the white woman looked at him to know she was a woman who was satisfied in every way.

  Quiet Water was in a foul mood as she walked down the path to the river to bathe. It was unfair for the white woman to have Iron Wing when Quiet Water had wanted him first.

  The disgruntled Indian woman came to an abrupt halt as she rounded the bend in the path and saw Iron Wing swimming in the river, alone. Her breath caught in her throat as he stood in the waist-deep water. Ah, but he was magnificent. His skin and hair gleamed wetly in the early morning sun, and she felt a sudden desire erupt in her loins as she imagined his arms around her.

  Smiling slyly, Quiet Water shrugged off her dress and walked boldly to the water’s edge.

  “Oh,” she cried in mock alarm. “I did not see you there.”

  Quiet Water blushed prettily, but she made no move to cover her nakedness, nor did she turn away. She had a body that was slim and softly rounded, breasts that were high and full, legs that were long and shapely. She felt a thrill of pride as Iron Wing’s eyes crept over her flesh, his expression showing he clearly liked what he saw.

  Iron Wing felt a vague uneasiness as he stepped from the water and picked up his clout. It was not fitting for Quiet Water to remain at the river with him, but she made no move to leave. Turning his back to the woman, he slipped on his clout and reached for his shirt. He gasped with shock when he felt Quiet Water’s arms circle his waist. Her breasts, soft and warm, pressed invitingly against his bare back. And that was how Katy found them. Iron Wing sucked in a deep breath when he saw the look of horror on Katy’s face, but Quiet Water only smiled smugly and held Iron Wing tighter.

  “You might as well tell the white woman about us,” the Indian girl purred wickedly. “Tell her she is no longer needed in your lodge.”

  Iron Wing pulled out of Quiet Water’s grasp, knowing how guilty he must look. He turned his dark eyes on Quiet Water. “I wanted you once,” he admitted in a tight voice, “but you would not have me. Now my heart is cold for you. Go back to your husband, if he will have you.”

  Red-faced with shame, Quiet Water grabbed her dress and ran along the riverbank, away from the village. She would never go back to Black Arrow. Never! She could not face him after this, nor could she face her friends and family. She had disgraced herself and them, and they would shun her presence. No one would look at her, or speak to her, but they would whisper behind her back, laughing at her because she threw herself at a man who did not want her. She could not bear the humiliation, not even for a short time.

  Iron Wing turned pleading eyes on Katy, willing her to understand. “Ka-ty…”

  A slow smile twitched at the corners of Katy’s lips, and she began to laugh. “Oh, Iron Wing, I wish you could have seen the look on your face when I saw the two of you together!”

  “You are not angry?”

  “No. I know you are too honorable a man to flirt with someone else’s wife.”

  “I have no need of any other woman,” Iron Wing said, gently stroking Katy’s cheek. “Not when I have you to share my life.”

  Hand in hand, they walked back to the village. Katy frowned as they drew near their lodge, for the camp was strangely quiet. A crowd had gathered around Sun Dreamer’s tepee, their faces grave.

  Just then, Walks-the-Clouds stepped out of his father’s lodge. “Sun Dreamer has gone to join his ancestors,” he announced in a choked voice.

  A moment later, a high-pitched wail rose toward the heavens as the shaman’s aged wife began to mourn.

  That afternoon, the medicine man’s body was wrapped in a buffalo robe and carried to the burying ground. His wife burned their lodge and moved in with her sister and brother-in-law.

  Later that night, Black Arrow came to Iron Wing’s lodge. “I need your help,” the warrior said. “Quiet Water has not returned to our lodge. No one has seen her since this morning, when she went to the river.”

  Katy remained quiet as Iron Wing pulled on a shirt and gathered his weapons. She had no love for the Indian woman who had tried to destroy her life with Iron Wing, but she wished her no harm. Iron Wing was a strong, handsome man. No woman could be blamed for wanting him.

  “We may be gone several days,” Iron Wing remarked when he was ready to go. “Do not worry.”

  “Be careful,” Katy murmured, lifting her face for his kiss.

  Iron Wing’s eyes searched Katy’s face. “You will be here when I return?”

  “Yes. Hurry back. I will miss you.” Katy did not sleep that night. Every night cry seemed as loud as thunder, and she wished Iron Wing were there beside her. The night did not seem long or menacing when he was at her side.

  Two days passed. Yellow Flower tried to cheer Katy, assuring her that Iron Wing would return safely, but still Katy could not help worrying. There were so many things that could happen. Iron Wing could be injured by a wild animal; the search party could be attacked by Crow Indians and he might be killed or captured. And deep in the back of her mind lurked the thought that Black Arrow had learned of Quiet Water’s duplicity and was plotting some sort of vengeance against Iron Wing, even though Iron Wing had done nothing to encourage the woman.

  Doubts and worries plagued Katy day and night and when, at last, the search party returned, Katy flew into Iron Wing’s arms, her relief mirrored in her eyes as he drew her close.

  It was only when the keening wail of a bereaved woman rose on the wind that Katy noticed the blanket-wrapped body draped over one of the horses.

  “We found Quiet Water,” Iron Wing said in a subdued tone. “She had been caught by some trappers and badly abused. She was dead when we got there.”

  “And the white men?”

  “They are dead also.”

  Katy nodded bleakly. “I’m sorry about Quiet Water. I know you once cared for her.”

  Iron Wing nodded slowly. “I did not think I would ever love a woman again when she turned me away. But then you came into my life, and I knew that my heart was not dead after all.”

  His words warmed Katy through and through, filling her with joy. “Where is Black Arrow?” she asked. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

  “He has gone into the hills to mourn. He loved her very much.”

  They buried Quiet Water the next mor
ning. Black Arrow stood beside the scaffold, his handsome face twisted with grief. He remained there at the burial site long after everyone else had gone.

  That afternoon, a Sioux warrior rode into camp bearing urgent news. Sitting Bull was calling for all the tribes to unite to fight the white invaders. The Sioux chief had offered one hundred pieces of his flesh to the Great Spirit at the Sun Dance and had been granted a great vision wherein he saw hundreds of white men falling into his camp. Sitting Bull’s message was clear.

  “It is war,” the mighty chief had stated. “Come to the Rosebud.” The days of peace were over. Runners came and went constantly after that, bringing news of the whereabouts of the Army, carrying the words of Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull.

  The Army was preparing to move in force against the Sioux and the Cheyenne. The homeland of the Plains Indians was rumored to be a rich source of gold. Not only that, but greedy white men were turning bright eyes toward the timbered hills and the rich grasslands. The buffalo, once as numerous as the stars in the sky, were being systematically destroyed. The Indians could not live without the buffalo, and the whites were finding it easier to destroy the buffalo than to fight the Indians.

  Talk of war spread across the plains like wildfire. The warriors thought of nothing else. Councils were held far into the night. Novice warriors went about the village with a new sense of purpose and dignity. Soon, they would ride into battle. Soon they would prove their bravery and cunning. Their eagerness to fight danced brightly in their black eyes. The old men talked wistfully of days gone by, of great battles fought and won, of coup counted and scalps taken. It was better to die in battle, they assured the young men, than to wind up old and helpless, of use to no one.

  Katy felt lost and alone in alien territory. She could not look with favor on the coming battle. War was not noble, it was brutal and ugly. Men might talk of the glory of battle and the thrill of victory, but it meant only pain and heartache to women as they saw their fathers and husbands and sons slain. Repeatedly, she begged Iron Wing not to fight. But he would not be moved. He was a warrior, and he would live and die as a warrior should.