Feather in the Wind

by Madeline Baker

  She was bone-tired, stiff and sore in muscles she’d never known she possessed by the time they made camp. Feeling as if she was a hundred years old, Susannah climbed out of the saddle. Her legs felt like rubber and she would likely have fallen flat on her face if Black Wind hadn’t been there to catch her.

  “What is wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “Are you sick?”

  “No, I am not sick.” She tried to push him away. It was like trying to move a mountain.

  “Tell me what is wrong.”

  “Wrong! Wrong! You want to know what’s wrong?” She pounded her fists against his chest. It was like hitting a mountain too. “I’m tired. I’m hungry. You’ve dragged me over a million miles of grass. I’ve never been on a horse in my whole life until I met you. My legs hurt. My back hurts. My neck hurts. My shoulders hurt. My…my backside…”

  She broke off, glaring up at him as a slow smile curved his lips. “What?” she shouted. “Why are you looking at me like that, you big jerk?”

  He lifted one black brow. “Jerk? I do not know this word.”

  “It means stupid male chauvinist idiot.” She tried again to escape his grasp, but he held her against him, exerting just enough power to hold her in place without hurting her.

  Black Wind frowned down at her. “You are angry with me.”

  Well, she thought, that was the understatement of the year. “Angry doesn’t begin to describe it.”

  “Su-san-nah…”

  “Don’t call me that.” No one else had ever said her name the way he did, slowly, almost reverently.

  “It is your name.”

  “I know,” she said, feeling miserable. “Please, just let me go. I have to find my way home.”

  “I cannot let you go.” He lifted one hand, let his fingertips slide through the silkiness of her hair, captivated by the fire in her eyes, the angry flush in her cheeks.

  Susannah felt her anger fade at his touch. How could she stay mad at a man who touched her so gently, who looked at her with such obvious concern? “Did you really see me in a vision?”

  Black Wind nodded.

  The eagle feather fluttered at the movement, drawing Susannah’s gaze. “And you don’t know what it means?”

  “No.”

  “What will your people say when they see me?”

  “The women will be jealous because you are so beautiful,” he replied, grinning, “and the young men will look at me with envy.”

  “Ohhh…”

  She tried to summon her anger, to remind herself that he had kidnapped her, that she wanted to go home, but as Black Wind lowered his head and claimed her lips with his, none of that seemed to matter.

  She slid her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as he deepened the kiss. She felt the length of his body against her own and pressed closer, closer, and thought how well they fit together, how smooth his skin was beneath her hands, how beautiful his eyes were. Her fingers delved into his hair, long black hair that felt like coarse silk.

  His tongue dueled with hers in sweet intimacy, making her forget everything, making her think of sparkling champagne and satin sheets and moonlight dancing on the ocean.

  She heard a low moan and wondered if it had come from his throat or hers.

  “Su-san-nah?” His lips slid down her throat, lingering at the pulse beating there.

  It would be so easy to give in, to surrender to the touch of his hands and lips, to let him ease the fierce desire burning through her. No other man had ever made her feel the way he made her feel, but if she let him hold her and kiss her, she feared she would never be able to leave him. And she didn’t want to stay here, in this time. She didn’t belong here. She never would.

  “Let me go.”

  Black Wind went suddenly still and then, slowly, he released her and took a step backward, his hands clenched at his sides. He was breathing heavily, but no more heavily than was she.

  “We need wood for a fire,” he said gruffly.

  She looked at him blankly for a moment, then nodded and walked away, wishing, perversely, that he had refused to let her go. Coward, she thought, hating herself for it. But it would be so much easier if he would just force himself on her. She wouldn’t have to make the decision then.

  She walked along, picking up kindling as she went. She knew she would never find her way home, never be able to leave him, if she let him make love to her.

  When she returned to camp, he had the horses unsaddled and hobbled and was sitting cross-legged on the ground, skinning a small animal that looked suspiciously like a bunny. She dumped the wood on the ground and turned away, unable to watch him gut the furry little thing.

  It was full dark by the time he finished.

  “Build a fire,” he said.

  “I don’t know how.” She pointed at the skinned carcass. “And before you ask, I don’t know how to cook whatever that is over a fire either.”

  He looked at her skeptically for a moment, then cleared a patch of ground, laid a fire and had the meat on a spit and cooking in practically no time at all.

  Susannah sat down, warming her hands, while he disposed of the entrails. The aroma of roasting meat made her stomach growl. She tried not to think that the rabbit had been alive, whiskers twitching, only a few minutes ago.

  He didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge her presence in any way, yet the tension between them was palpable. She was aware of every breath he took, every move he made. She watched him take the rabbit from the spit and split the carcass down the middle. He placed one half on a tin plate, uncapped a canteen and filled a tin cup with water, then handed both to her.

  “Black Wind…”

  “Eat.”

  She hated the silence between them. It wore on her nerves. But if he could stand it, so could she. Determined to ignore him, as he was so easily ignoring her, she tore a piece of meat from the chunk on her plate and popped it into her mouth. It burned her tongue and brought tears to her eyes. Refusing to let him know, she gulped it down, then took a long drink of water.

  Muttering under her breath, she pulled the meat apart so it would cool faster. She couldn’t believe she was here, sitting on the ground, eating one of Thumper’s relatives. She couldn’t believe Black Wind had seen her in a vision, and yet it had to be true. He had described her, had described his photograph, perfectly. He couldn’t have made it up.

  So, he had seen her in a vision. What did it mean? Why was she really here? How would she ever get home?

  She slid a furtive glance in his direction. The feather. It was the key. Somehow, she had to get it back. And then what? It hadn’t zapped her back to her own time the last time she had tried. Maybe the feather had nothing to do with her being here at all.

  Overcome with a wave of homesickness, she set her plate aside and stared into the fire. Never, in all her life, had she felt so lost, so alone.

  She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t! What was the use?

  She stiffened as she felt Black Wind’s arm slide around her waist. She wanted to resist, to tell him to go away and leave her alone. Instead, she slid onto his lap and laid her head against his shoulder. And suddenly all the pain and loneliness melted away.

  He didn’t say anything, just held her close, his strong arms gentle around her, his breath caressing her cheek. She wished it didn’t feel so good to be cradled in his arms, that it didn’t feel so right. Because they could have no future together. He belonged in the past and she didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t… Thinking about it made her head ache.

  He was still holding her close when she fell asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  They reached the Indian village two days later. Looking at the hide lodges spread along the banks of a slow-moving river, Susannah was reminded of a scene from Dances With Wolves.

  “Do not be afraid, Su-san-nah,” Tate Sapa said. “My people will not hurt you.”

  She tried to look unconcerned, but she grew increasingly more nervous as they neared the village.
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br />   Dogs of all sizes ran forward, barking furiously as Black Wind reached the first hide lodge. Men, women and children stopped whatever they were doing and turned in their direction. Susannah felt their stares as she passed by.

  By the time they reached the center of the village, a large group of men had gathered around them.

  Tate Sapa reined the stallion to a halt in front of a large tipi, then slid from the back of his horse. Susannah watched the crowd part for an elderly man who limped toward Tate Sapa and embraced him.

  They spoke softly for a few minutes. Susannah listened to the harsh guttural sounds, wishing she knew what they were saying.

  After a time, Tate Sapa lifted Susannah from the saddle. He had told his father only that she had saved his life, nothing more.

  “Su-san-nah,” he said, “this is my father, He Wonjetah.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Susannah said.

  “He does not speak English, but he bids me welcome you to our lodge.”

  “Tell him thank you.”

  “You tell him. The Lakota word for thank you is pilamaya.”

  “Pilamaya,” Susannah repeated.

  He Wonjetah nodded at her. He was a tall man, with an austere countenance and long black braids tinged with gray. He wore a rawhide shirt, leggings and moccasins, and leaned heavily on a walking stick. He looked familiar somehow, though she knew that was impossible.

  “This is my lodge,” Black Wind said. “Go inside and wait for me.”

  Susannah didn’t argue. She was only too glad to get away from the curious stares of the Indians.

  The inside of the lodge was dim. Furs covered the floor. There were two backrests made of woven wood, several large packs that she assumed held clothing or supplies of some kind, a few pots and bowls. Near the back of the lodge was a small earthen mound that looked like an altar. The lining of the lodge was decorated with drawings of horses and men. She studied them for a minute, trying to decipher their meaning, then turned away.

  She whirled around, her heart pounding, as the door flap lifted.

  “Oh,” she said, relieved to see Black Wind, “it’s you.”

  He looked at her, one black brow arched in amusement. “Were you expecting someone else?”

  “Kevin Costner?”

  Tate Sapa frowned. “What?”

  “Never mind. So, what am I supposed to do now?”

  “You will do as I say.”

  “Will I?”

  Tate Sapa nodded slowly, emphatically. “I have told my people that you are my captive.”

  Susannah shrugged. “Big deal. That’s what I am.”

  “They will expect me to punish you if you do not obey me.”

  “No doubt you’d enjoy it,” she replied waspishly.

  “Su-san-nah…”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

  Crossing the floor, Tate Sapa gathered her into his arms, thinking again how small she was, how fragile. “I will not hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Tell me you do not feel what I feel when I hold you close, and I will leave you alone.”

  “Will you let me go?”

  “I cannot. Not until I know why you were sent to me.”

  “What if you never find out?”

  He shook his head. “I do not know. We will speak of that later. I want to know what you feel when I hold you, Su-san-nah.”

  Her gaze slid away from his. “I don’t know what I feel.”

  “I know. Your heart pounds when I am near. Your body warms and longs for my touch. You think of me when we are apart. You dream of me at night.”

  His voice spun a silken web around her heart. His eyes were dark, burning with a fierce inner fire that threatened to burn away her resistance.

  She shook her head. “No…”

  “You are lying, Su-san-nah. You can lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to me. I see the truth in your eyes.” His hands slid down her arms, making her shiver. “I know what you want. It is what I want.”

  She looked up at him, helpless to resist as he lowered his head and kissed her. Fire. Rivers of fire racing through every vein. Oceans of fire engulfing her, consuming her, until she couldn’t think of anything but his kisses, the touch of his hands on her skin inflamed her, making her yearn for more.

  “Black Wind…” She drew back and gazed up at him, gasping for breath, and then, standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his. They stood close, close enough that she could feel every inch of his body against her own. Caught up in a maelstrom of desire, she forgot where she was, forgot everything but the need this man aroused in her.

  She thought the kiss might have lasted forever if someone hadn’t chosen that moment to rap on the lodge flap.

  Tate Sapa drew his mouth from hers, his breathing ragged. “Tima hiyuwo,” he called hoarsely. Come in.

  Susannah had eyes only for Black Wind until she heard a startled gasp that was decidedly feminine.

  Guilt flickered in Black Wind’s eyes as he stepped away from her.

  Glancing around, Susannah saw a slender girl with long black hair standing near the door. The girl was young and beautiful, with large dark eyes and dusky skin. She wore an ankle-length dress Susannah guessed was made of doeskin. Long fringe dangled from the sleeves. A colorful design fashioned of beads was worked into the yoke.

  “Wakinyela,” Tate Sapa murmured. He released Susannah and took a step toward the other woman.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, sparking with jealousy as she looked Susannah up and down. “Who is this?” she asked.

  “Wakinyela, this is Su-san-nah. She saved my life.”

  “Why is she here?”

  Tate Sapa squared his shoulders. “Because I want her here.”

  “I do not.”

  “We are not yet married,” Tate Sapa said, his voice cool. “This is still my lodge.”

  “She is staying here?”

  “She is mine.”

  Wakinyela made a sound of disgust in her throat. “We are betrothed, Tate Sapa. I will not share you with a wasicun winyan, or let you shame me in front of our people.”

  “If there is any shame here, it is yours,” Tate Sapa replied curtly. “Su-san-nah saved my life. She is my captive, but also a guest in my lodge. You will treat her with the respect she deserves.”

  “I will treat her as the enemy!” Wakinyela exclaimed, her voice rising. “Have you forgotten that the wasichu killed my father and your mother and sister? I will not make her welcome.”

  Wakinyela reached behind her and withdrew the knife sheathed behind her back. “She should die, as my father died. As my brother died!”

  Susannah listened curiously to the heated exchange, wishing she could understand what they were saying. Now, she took a hasty step backward. The hatred blazing in the woman’s eyes transcended language.

  “Wakinyela!” Eyes flashing fire, Tate Sapa plucked the knife from the woman’s grasp. “Does my life mean so little to you that you would kill the woman who saved it?”

  “Does my pride mean so little to you that you would bring a wasicun winyan into your lodge to mock my grief? I have sworn on the graves of my loved ones to kill any wasichu I meet.”

  Tate Sapa took hold of her shoulders. “Wachin-ksapa ya! You will not avenge yourself on Su-san-nah.”

  Wakinyela glared up at him, her black eyes like cold fire, her lips compressed in a thin angry line.

  “I will have your word that you will not try to harm her.”

  “I will not give it!” With slow deliberation, she put her hands on his and removed them from her shoulders. “You are no longer my betrothed. Hecheto aloe.” It is finished.

  “Nunwe,” Tate Sapa replied quietly. So be it.

  Wakinyela sent a last, fulminating glance at Susannah, then, her head high and proud, she stalked out of the lodge.

  “What was that all about?” Susannah asked.

  “She is angry because you are h
ere. We were to marry, but she has thrown me away.”

  “I’m sorry,” Susannah said, knowing, even as she spoke the words, that it was a lie.

  Tate Sapa shook his head. “It is not your fault.”

  “I didn’t know you were engaged.”

  He shrugged. “It was my father’s wish that I marry Wakinyela.”

  “Are you…do you love her?”

  “No, Su-san-nah, I do not love Wakinyela. I never did.”

  For some reason, that knowledge pleased her a great deal. Tate Sapa let out a deep breath as he drew Susannah into his arms again. “Do not be afraid, Su-san-nah. I will not let anyone harm you.”

  Susannah nodded, but she couldn’t forget the hatred in Wakinyela’s eyes or the fervor in the woman’s voice when she spoke of vengeance.

  Her gaze darted toward the door as she heard someone enter the lodge. At first, she feared Wakinyela had returned, but it was He Wonjetah, Tate Sapa’s father. She was struck again by the feeling that she had seen him somewhere before.

  The old man stared at Susannah for a long moment before turning his attention to his son. “What is this you have done?”

  Susannah felt Black Wind’s arms tighten around her. She couldn’t understand what the old man was saying, but she was certain it concerned her presence in his lodge.

  “What do you mean?” Tate Sapa asked.

  “Wakinyela tells me she no longer wishes to marry you. She says you have shamed her by bringing this wasicun winyan into your lodge.”

  “I have shamed no one,” Tate Sapa replied.

  “What does this wasicun winyan mean to you?”

  “She saved my life, Ate.”

  “That is all you feel for this white woman? Gratitude?”

  He Wonjetah’s keen black eyes held Black Wind’s gaze, as if daring him to lie.

  Tate Sapa shook his head. “I am not certain of what I feel. Do you remember the vision I had last winter?”

  He Wonjetah nodded. “Hin, I remember.”

  “Su-san-nah is the woman I saw.”

  Susannah looked up at Black Wind as she recognized her name. He smiled down at her, his gaze tender and reassuring.

  “You are certain of this?” He Wonjetah asked.

  Tate Sapa nodded. “She came to me at the fort where I was imprisoned.” Lifting his hand, he removed the eagle feather from his hair. “She had this with her.”