Savage Horizons

by Rosanne Bittner

  Then he saw a blue hawk, flying and soaring above the land. The hawk turned white and separated into two birds, the other one red.

  “Forever you must live in two worlds, my son,” a woman’s voice said. “You must learn to live in both, but always your heart will belong to me, to the Cheyenne.”

  He knew in his soul it was his mother speaking to him. He strained to see her face, but it would not come to him. The two birds melded together and the blue hawk flew away. After that there was only blackness.

  When he awoke, Blue Hawk saw only blurred images. He could smell the sweet smoke of a hickory fire cooking venison, but when he tried to focus his eyes and rise, pain seered through his body.

  “Do not move,” said a gentle voice. “You must lie still, Blue Hawk. I will care for you until you are better.”

  He recognized his aunt’s voice. He felt something wet at his lips then, and water was squeezed into his mouth.

  “Drink just a little, my warrior. Soon you will eat, and in a few days you will be strong. You did well, nephew. You did not cry out. You are a true Cheyenne brave now, and can sit with the Council and ride into battle. You have proven your word and your bravery, and Sweet Seed Woman is proud of you.”

  Blue Hawk let the water trickle into his dry throat. “Walking … Grass?”

  Sweet Seed Woman smiled. “She saw. She too is proud. The spirits of your ancestors are also proud. You are truly one of us now, Blue Hawk.”

  “My … mother. She spoke to me—”

  The woman put her fingers to his lips. “You must not tell me of your vision, nephew. That is only for the shaman to hear if you choose to tell.”

  The words sounded far away. For several days thereafter there was nothing but sleeping and eating, with special herbs and oils put on his wounds to help them heal. And he would heal. He had lived through the Sun Dance Ritual and had done so with honor.

  When he was strong again, Blue Hawk sat with the others and watched as the women danced in a circle around a fire. It was a night to relax and have a good time. The summer hunt had been good, and tipis were full of dried meat and piles of turnips and berries. There were many new skins for clothing, blankets and tipis; bones for utensils of endless uses. Many pounds of pemmican had been prepared to help get them through the winter and for warriors to take on hunts and raids. The pemmican was a combination of dried buffalo and venison mixed with melted fat and berries. When properly prepared, it lasted several months, providing nourishment in times when food became scarce and the hunts were not good.

  But this summer the hunts had been excellent, and now they celebrated. Blue Hawk sat next to Proud Eagle, each of them smoking homemade pipes and watching the women. Some were married, others were maidens who in these dances were allowed to flaunt themselves and give signals to their own favorite male, displaying their particular preferences. Blue Hawk watched with a quickening heart as Walking Grass whirled by him, smiling, swaying her hips seductively, opening her blanket and then closing it again and continuing the skipping step of the dance, staying within the circle of women.

  “You still have eyes for the one who nearly got you banished?” Proud Eagle asked with a grin.

  “I do.”

  Proud Eagle reached into the waist of his leggings, handing Blue Hawk something carved from bone. “Here. I made this for you.”

  Blue Hawk took the carving, studying it and frowning. “What is it?”

  Proud Eagle laughed. “It is your own flute. Do you not know that to court a Cheyenne maiden you must play a special tune, just for her? Is it not time you began presenting her parents with gifts, for them and for Walking Grass?”

  Blue Hawk turned the instrument in his hands. “I do not know how to play.”

  “You do not have to. Practice with it until you have decided on your own special song. Then go near her tipi and play it every night. She will know.”

  The young woman danced around again. She was fifteen summers, old enough to court. And she was not only pretty, but also daring and proud. Blue Hawk had been told that once, when Crows attacked, she saved her grandmother by knifing a Crow warrior all by herself, then half carrying her frail grandmother to safety. Blue Hawk could not imagine the girl doing such a thing, for she was herself just a small thing, with hips that were narrow but perfectly rounded in the back, a tiny waist and slender legs. Many times Blue Hawk had tried to envision how she would look naked, how it would feel to be with her that way. She was so different from Emily Stoner, and he knew instinctively that Walking Grass would never be bad like that, never bring him shame. He had known her only five months, yet he knew he loved her. She was sweet and delicate, yet brave, and of strong character.

  Again she disappeared, but some of the women began leaving the circle to throw their blankets over their husbands, some single women choosing their favorite warrior to sit with them under the blanket as custom allowed. With the single maidens, the man was never to touch her rudely. The blanket was only a symbol, and for several minutes they would sit beneath it and talk, learn whether or not they would like to talk again, and if there was an interest in more than talk.

  Men and women laughed and cheered. It was fun making bets on who the young maidens would choose, fun teasing those under the blankets. Again Walking Grass came around. She opened her blanket in front of Blue Hawk, swaying seductively in a bleached doeskin dress, her hair hanging loose. He felt lost, as if he were at her mercy, and was suddenly very nervous when she left the circle and moved toward him. She threw her blanket over them, and Blue Hawk could hear Proud Eagle and others cheering and laughing.

  Sitting under the blanket with the beauty he had looked at from afar for months was tempting indeed. But Blue Hawk knew better than to touch her wrongly. He breathed in her sweet scent, and she in turn thought how clean and masculine Blue Hawk smelled. Her heart swelled with love for him, for he was the most beautiful young man in their village, she was sure. But she dared not speak too boldly.

  “I watched you at the Sun Dance. I was proud,” she said.

  “I told you I would come back,” he replied, allowing his arm to touch hers and feeling on fire when he did so.

  “Why did you come back, Blue Hawk?”

  “To fulfill my vow and retain my honor.”

  “Why else?” she teased.

  Blue Hawk swallowed. “Maybe … for you.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Will you play the flute for me some night, Blue Hawk? I would like it if you did.”

  “Then I will do it.”

  “Sing the tune you will play.”

  “I—” Blue Hawk had never felt so ridiculously nervous in his life. “I cannot. I have to learn first. But you will know.”

  “I want to talk more, Blue Hawk. If you wish, you may come to our tipi, and we can talk in the presence of my family, but I will not be allowed to look straight into your eyes.”

  “I understand. I will come. I would like to talk, too.”

  “Will you tell me about the white man’s world?”

  “If you wish.”

  He felt her leaning closer. “You may touch my cheek, Blue Hawk, if you wish.”

  He longed to put his mouth on hers. His curiosity about how she would react was almost painful, for she knew nothing of kissing the white man’s way. He longed to teach her about loving and hear her cry out his name in ecstasy. The thought of a wife and perhaps a son of his own seemed suddenly wonderful. He leaned forward, touching her cheek, and he could not help allowing his lips to brush her ear.

  “You are a most beautiful creature, Walking Grass,” he whispered.

  She wondered if she would faint from his touch. She reached up and touched her slender fingers to his lips, “I think the same of you,” she answered.

  Suddenly both blanket and girl were gone, and Blue Hawk blinked at the abrupt return to reality. He watched in surprise as Walking Grass ran off into the shadows. He started after her, but Proud Eagle grabbed his arm.


  “No. It must be the right way. Do not go after her tonight or you will offend her pride and her family.”

  Blue Hawk slowly sat down and Proud Eagle grinned. “You look like a stud horse who has smelled the mare in heat, my friend. But someone else owns the mare. You cannot break loose from your rope and go into her pasture.”

  Blue Hawk shook back his hair and stared into the shadows. “One day she and I will share the same pasture,” he said in a determined voice.

  Proud Eagle chuckled. “First she has to be ready for you. An unwilling mare kicks hard and bites.”

  Blue Hawk put his pipe in his mouth and puffed it a moment. “She will not kick and bite,” he answered then. “She will whinny and nuzzle.”

  They both laughed then, and Blue Hawk wondered which would prove more painful—the Sun Dance Ritual or waiting for the woman he wanted.

  After that the courting began in earnest. Blue Hawk was determined not to waste any time. He wanted Walking Grass, and was determined to have her soon. Every night he played his flute outside her tipi. By day he asked her parents’ permission to sit with her inside their tipi and talk. There were many such talks, as each discovered the beauty of the other. Blue Hawk wore the tail of a white-tailed deer around his neck, and more such tails on his weapons belt, for the talismans were considered good luck in love. He presented the girl’s father, Two Bears, with gifts of fresh meat and fine skins, as well as his Crow tomahawk. He also offered some of the white man’s tobacco, which Bo Sanders had given him when they met.

  Finally Two Bears agreed to the marriage, and Walking Grass began preparing skins for a tipi of their own. Until it was ready, she could not be Blue Hawk’s wife. Walking Grass took painstaking care to sew the finest tipi of the village, carefully painting it with blue hawks and battle scenes showing her blue-eyed warrior felling Crow men. Blue Hawk had four horses of his own now, and was considered wealthy by Cheyenne standards. Walking Grass painted pictures of each one on the tipi; the gray gelding, the roan mare Buffalo Man had given him, and two spotted horses stolen from the Crow in a recent raid. She smiled when painting the spotted horses, her heart bursting with pride at her future husband’s accomplishments in war. He had brought home not only the two spotted horses, but two others, a gray and a black, for Two Bears. The man was pleased, and Blue Hawk’s standing as an honorable warrior had been more than met.

  The morning of the wedding dawned with the sound of thundering horses and loud war whoops. Blue Hawk bolted upright, grabbing his weapons belt and quickly tying it around his bare stomach. He wore only a loincloth, but he knew there would be no time to put on clothes. In the next instant a fiery arrow landed in the side of his tipi.

  “Crow,” Blue Hawk yelled. “Get out!” He pushed Sweet Seed Woman and her sister, both of whom wore nothing but blankets wrapped around them, while Buffalo Man grabbed his lance. “Hurry,” Blue Hawk yelled. “Hopo! Hopo!”

  They were hardly out before the tipi began to crumble. The women headed for the riverbank, where trenches had been dug for just such an emergency. They would hide in the trenches, where it would be more difficult for a Crow warrior to reach down and grab them.

  Blue Hawk whirled, shooting one warrior with his pistol, giving his aunt and her sister time to get away. Buffalo Man went after another warrior with his lance, and Blue Hawk searched desperately for Walking Grass. He ran toward her father’s tipi, where he saw the girl’s mother coming out, helping Walking Grass’ old grandmother toward the trenches. But the old woman could not walk fast enough. Two Bears stayed beside them, waving his lance and tomahawk, determined to protect them until they were safe. Walking Grass ran out then, a blanket wrapped around herself. Her wide, frightened eyes met Blue Hawk’s.

  “Go with them,” he shouted. “I will help your father protect you.”

  She hurried up beside her grandmother, and Blue Hawk turned and lanced a warrior that rode down on them. He yanked it out immediately, and the man rode on farther before finally falling from his horse. Blue Hawk stood near Walking Grass, who moved slowly with her mother and grandmother. In a moment two warriors came at them, and while Blue Hawk was busy readying himself for one, the other managed to hit Two Bears’ head with a stone from his sling, knocking him down. Walking Grass screamed and ran to her father, and another warrior came along and swooped her up onto his horse. Blue Hawk pulled the first warrior from his horse, and in an instant his tomahawk was buried in the Crow man’s head.

  He jerked out the tomahawk and turned to see Walking Grass’ mother and grandmother still running, but Walking Grass was gone. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of Two Bears on the ground. He heard Walking Grass scream his name, and turned to see her struggling with a Crow man on a horse, pulling viciously at the man’s hair and biting his nose. Her blanket had fallen away and she was completely naked, but oblivious to her nudity. Blue Hawk ran over to them, trying to get close to the Crow’s horse as it turned in confusion while Walking Grass fought with its master.

  Blue Hawk finally reached up and pulled her down, then jumped onto the warrior’s horse, knocking the dizzy, bleeding warrior from his mount. They both landed hard, and Blue Hawk whipped out his knife and shoved it into the man’s heart. An instant later another Crow warrior landed with a thud beside him. Blue Hawk whirled on his knees to see Walking Grass standing near him, holding a tomahawk in her hand. She had apparently grabbed it from the man’s mount and used it on the second warrior, who had obviously come up behind Blue Hawk to kill him.

  The fighting had moved farther from camp by then as the Cheyenne gained control. Blue Hawk stared at Walking Grass, his eyes moving over her incredibly beautiful body. He met her eyes then, and their gazes held in a moment of lightning desire. She knew by the way he looked at her that he was pleased with what he saw, and the thought of being his wife filled her with a passion beyond anything she had ever experienced.

  Blue Hawk rose and put his knife into its sheath. He grabbed a blanket from the Crow warrior’s horse and walked up to her, opening the blanket and putting it around her. She kept her eyes on his blue ones, then let him pull her into his arms.

  “You saved my life.” He held her close.

  “You saved mine,” she replied.

  “The Crow would not have killed you. But he would have done something to you that would have been harder for me to face than your death,” he said.

  She raised her face and met his eyes again, eyes that made her feel weak. “And for me, death would have been better than to belong to any man but you.”

  He picked her up in his strong arms and walked toward the river with her. “Look, Walking Grass. The tipi you were making for us still stands. Everything else around it is burned.”

  She looked at the lovely dwelling, the morning sun lighting up the brilliant blue hawks painted on it. She looked at him and smiled. “It is a good sign. It means it is good that we will marry.”

  The soft night breeze and fresh scent of pine washed over Blue Hawk as he held back the flap of the wedding tipi. The ceremony had been put off until Two Bears recovered from his head wound. Not much damage had been done other than several tipis being burned, and there had been a celebration over the fact that the Cheyenne were better warriors than the Crow. Blue Hawk’s impatience to make Walking Grass his wife was finally satisfied, and now she stepped inside their tipi bashfully. Blue Hawk followed, his heart full of pride in his new wife, her courage, the lovely dwelling she had made for them, her beauty.

  The young woman stood trembling, not really afraid of Blue Hawk, but of not pleasing him, for she wasn’t sure what she should do. In her bleached doeskin dress she looked soft and velvety, her dark skin a lovely contrast to the dress, which was decorated with fringes and quills and beads, representing many hours of labor by her mother. The dress was matched in beauty only by its wearer.

  Blue Hawk removed the white vest he wore and quickly made a fire, while outside drums beat and bells jingled in rhythmic dancing. The celebratin
g over the Crow defeat continued even now, but Blue Hawk and Walking Grass had their own celebrating to do.

  The fire began to crackle, warming the tipi against the cold September night. Blue Hawk turned and removed the fine buckskin shirt and leggings he had worn for his wedding. Walking Grass watched curiously, alive with desire but also nervous and afraid. She studied the hard ripple of his muscles as he discarded all his clothing but his loin cloth. He straightened and stood in all his manly glory, the most handsome man ever created as far as Walking Grass was concerned. He walked up to her and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

  “Why do you tremble so?” he asked, touching her lips with his fingers. “We have talked many times. We are friends. I would never hurt you, Walking Grass.”

  She swallowed. Oh, how she loved him! But still she was afraid. “I … I do not know what to do.”

  He smiled. “I will show you. But it is your right to refuse me.”

  She met his eyes. “I do not refuse,” she whispered.

  His eyes shone with desire as he untied the laces of her tunic and let it drop to her waist, revealing full, satiny breasts. Gently he caressed them, his body on fire for her. Her nipples grew taught with her own desire, and her eyes did not leave his. His hand moved to her chin and he brought his mouth down to meet hers, gently biting at her lips, using his tongue and light kisses to draw out her natural desires. He knew she was not really afraid of him, but only of what it would be like to be taken for the first time. Walking Grass seemed like a frightened little deer, so innocent. He knew he had to be very careful.

  Her breath came in little gasps as he pulled her close, encircling her in his arms and rubbing her breasts against his bare chest while he kissed her the white man’s way, searching her mouth, his hands running gently over her bare back.

  Blue Hawk trembled with the great joy of finally holding her, finally having her for himself, and with the knowledge that she did not choose to wait. She would shed the chastity rope this very first night, for he knew she wanted very much to please him. She would be a good wife, the best a man could want.