The Warrior's Captive Bride

by Jenna Kernan

  His mother came forward, her body slim and muscular, her grip firm as she took hold of Skylark by each shoulder and leaned forward to touch foreheads.

  “Welcome, Skylark of the Low River people. Welcome to our family.” Her voice was warm and her embrace seemed genuine. Skylark felt worse than if she had received the cold welcome she had expected.

  His mother released her and turned to her son, who was speaking again.

  “Skylark, this is my mother, Red Corn Woman.”

  His mother had her finger up, wagging it at her son as a grin lifted her features and deepened the crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes.

  “Now I see. Hunting alone.” She gave a snort. “Hunting, you said. Hunting for another wife!”

  Night Storm’s brow wrinkled at his mother’s words as if he did not understand.

  “You had me so worried. You stopped seeing your friends, you stopped scouting. You barely saw Beautiful Meadow. And, as for hunting, you brought little back to fill my kettle.” She laughed. “To think I almost asked your sisters to follow you.”

  Night Storm’s eyes widened, and he and Sky exchanged an uneasy glance before he returned his attention to his mother. His mother had recognized that something was wrong with her son, of course. Skylark was not surprised. Mothers always knew such things.

  “Well, you were so preoccupied you barely ate and were not yourself. Even your father noticed, and Great Spirit bless him, he doesn’t notice anything unless it happens in the council lodge or under our buffalo robes.”

  “Mother!”

  “Well? You have a wife now. Such doings should be more familiar to you.” She threw her arms up and actually twirled in a circle. Then she came to an abrupt halt.

  “Oh, my. When you spoke to Beautiful Meadow, she did not set you aside?”

  “No. But she...was very angry.”

  Sky touched the place where the spit had landed and then moved her hand down to cover her heart. Beneath her palm a pain shot across her chest. Night Storm might lose his intended because of her. He had said he would not marry Beautiful Meadow until he was well, but she might no longer wish to marry him.

  His mother snorted. “I know her well enough to know she will not be pleased. I would suspect she will go to her uncle. I would anticipate a visit from him.”

  Sky gasped. Storm stiffened.

  Red Corn Woman looked from her son’s grim expression to Skylark’s owlish one. She shook her head in bewilderment.

  “Well,” said Red Corn Woman. “I seem to have dropped a bug into the soup.” She took Skylark’s hand. “Please join us for supper tonight. It will be so lovely to have all three of my daughters about the same fire.”

  Skylark thought that Night Storm said he had only two sisters and then she realized that Red Corn Woman already included her among her inner circle. Just like that. A string of words, a lie, and she was wed to a warrior of the Black Lodges and a member of this stranger’s family.

  Skylark felt the terrible power of what she had done, sliding like snow from a high peak, gaining speed until it obliterated all that fell before it. The foreboding chilled her and she wrapped her arms about herself. Night Storm moved up beside her, draping an arm proprietarily about her shoulders.

  “We will be there,” he promised.

  His mother stepped through the opening of her son’s lodge and closed the door flap, assuring their privacy. At least from prying eyes. But sound carried, so Sky must be careful with her words.

  Her knees gave way and he caught her easily, guiding her down to the buffalo robe beside the cold fire pit.

  “I had no idea she would be so thrilled,” muttered Night Storm.

  “What have we done?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Skylark suffered through supper in Red Corn Woman’s lodge, flanked by Bright Shawl and Fills a Kettle, who looked much more like Night Storm. Their father, Many Coups, was a warrior of the first order. Tall, strong and imposing, Sky knew from Night Storm that his father sat on the council of elders for the Black Lodges and headed the Black War Bonnet society. Now she discovered from Red Corn Woman that he had served many years as head man on the buffalo hunts and was now War Chief. He had distinguished himself against the Sioux and also the Blackfeet tribes. There was no doubt where Storm got his ambition to follow the way of the warrior. It was clear to her that Night Storm wanted to earn coup feathers and serve his people just like his father. But she thought of owls and wondered if his way might lead in another direction.

  Red Corn Woman asked her many questions. When she discovered Skylark’s talent with healing, she consulted her on various conditions, comparing what Skylark said to what she knew. It was the only time Skylark felt comfortable, briefly, until she began to worry that she was making a bad impression, with her many opinions of the uses of plants. But then she remembered that it would not matter because this match was predestined to fail. That realization freed her somewhat, until she also recalled that she would likely meet members of the Black Lodges after the marriage was broken. That thought saddened her because she liked Red Corn Woman.

  As she stared about the circle of faces, she felt an unexpected longing for such a family. To have two sisters, a mother, a father—it was a fantasy she had held. This was so different than her life. Her aunt and uncle had no children and so would depend on her in their older years. It was an obligation of all daughters to look after their parents. And her husband must provide meat for his wife’s family if an aging father could no longer hunt. Looking at Many Coups, she could not even imagine that ever occurring. But what of Wood Duck and Winter Moon? Would Sky’s cures provide enough food for them when they could no longer see to their own needs? She glanced to Night Storm, suddenly afraid of the burden that waited for her to carry alone. It would be easier if she had a husband, someone like Night Storm.

  Red Corn Woman broke the gathering early, sending Skylark and her son to their lodge like children sent to bed. It was clear from her parting comments that she was hopeful to have another grandchild, which she was looking to her second son to provide. That seemed unlikely, as she and Night Storm now sat on opposite sides of the fire in his small lodge.

  She thought of last night’s storm, when she had slept beside him, safe and warm and happy. A person did not recognize unhappiness unless it was set against such a moment of perfect contentment. It brought to light all that she had missed and all she would likely never have. Because of her flaws and odd ways. Night Storm was best clear of her, she told herself, even as she stared out at him across the divide.

  “Husband?” she asked. She told herself she used this title in case others listened. But really she liked the sound on her tongue.

  “Yes.”

  “Your father is very...imposing.”

  “He has more coups than men much his senior,” said Storm. “Should he wish it, I would expect him to be chief one day.”

  The silence stretched. Was he thinking of his father or his condition?

  “My brother, Iron Axe, has earned many coups with his new tribe.” He made a sound in his throat. “I have earned none since I fell.”

  How strange that a fall brought on his falling sickness. She told herself that it must be a sickness, because if it were not she could do nothing for him and all his efforts, even this sham of a marriage, were for nothing.

  “Tomorrow we will begin searching for the plants to cure you.”

  Beautiful Meadow’s words rose in her mind. She had told Sky to set out his things, publicly break the marriage. That would help smooth Beautiful Meadow’s ruffled feathers. But she would be disappointed. Sky would not be setting Storm’s things out from his own lodge.

  He gave a long release of breath. She wanted to assure him that soon he would again defend his people and provide for his family. But what if he could not?

 
; Sky wished she could creep across the distance that separated them and offer the comfort of her body. She wished she could experience the pleasure of sharing the night with this man. He was her husband until the winter camp. She was entitled to share his bed. He had promised he would not take her unless she wished. Should she take what he would give? Her pride kept her in place.

  He didn’t love her. They had made a bargain. That was all.

  Would her father laugh at the predicament she was in or cry because it was funny?

  Here, in the circle of this fire was everything she had ever thought she wanted. A strong man, a home, a family. All she ever dreamed of was here, and in one moon she would speak the words to release him and walk away.

  There was a screeching sound from outside the lodge. Frost shot to his feet and growled. Sky clutched her chest thinking it was another owl. But then she heard the words in the screeching cry.

  “Night Storm. Come out and face me.”

  She looked to Storm, who suddenly looked less brave, and she knew who called to him.

  “Beautiful Meadow?” she asked.

  Storm nodded and rose to his feet.

  * * *

  Night Storm ducked out of his lodge to meet the woman he had asked to be his wife.

  “I do not see your things before this lodge,” said Beautiful Meadow.

  “You must trust me,” said Storm. He was fully aware that his parents, sisters and Sky could hear every word.

  “Trust? You left on a hunt and returned with a wife. My uncle wishes to see you and your new wife. He thinks your fall has damaged your mind and that you are not well enough to marry.”

  “I am well enough.”

  She stepped closer and pointed at his lodge. “It should be me inside that lodge.”

  “You wanted your family from Wind Basin about you for the ceremony.”

  “And you could not wait two moons?”

  He shook his head. “I could not.”

  “You said you were unwell, but you are well enough to take another. All this was a lie.”

  “It was not a lie. I love you. I will marry you at the gathering. And I will explain all to you then.”

  She glared, her fists stiff at her sides.

  “If you love me you will give me until the gathering,” he said.

  “Is she going back to her people then?”

  “I do not know.” What did Sky think of that answer? He knew that their arrangement was for two moons, but some part of him already wanted her to stay. He just needed for Beautiful Meadow and Skylark to become friends.

  “Would you like to meet her?” asked Night Storm.

  “I did not bring my skinning knife.”

  Storm smiled and Beautiful Meadow did not. But her eyes now fixed on the closed flap of his lodge.

  “Bring her out. I would speak again to the first wife of the warrior who promised to make me his first wife.”

  “I made no such promise.”

  Beautiful Meadow now turned aside and faced his lodge.

  “Come out, Low River woman.”

  The flap lifted and thumped against the side of the lodge. Storm knew Sky was very good at gathering medicine and hiding from wolves and chasing after her father. He did not think she was prepared for a fight with Beautiful Meadow. In truth, he had never before seen Beautiful Meadow’s temper and her tirade embarrassed him. He thought of his father sitting in his lodge shaking his head in disappointment.

  Sky ducked out of the opening in the hide and stood, hands clasped upon her drab buckskin dress, her hair braided but unadorned. In fact, her only embellishments were her quilled moccasins, the sheath of her knife and the strand of white beads about her neck.

  Beautiful Meadow, on the other hand, wore a finely made dress with many teeth upon the yoke. She had multiple strands of beads about her neck, many of which Storm had given her. Her hair was glossed with grease and adorned with extensions of mink to make her braids seem to reach her waist. But her face was twisted in an ugly expression and the vessels at her neck bulged, making her face the color of a cherry.

  Beautiful Meadow stalked forward, and Storm prepared to pull them apart.

  “You little thief,”

  “I am no thief,” said Sky.

  “Sorceress, then.”

  This insult held a hint of danger because of Sky’s ability to heal and Beautiful Meadow’s uncle being the shaman.

  Beautiful Meadow turned to Storm. “She is plain as dirt.”

  “Then I offer no competition to you,” said Sky.

  Beautiful Meadow’s head snapped back toward Sky and her eyes narrowed. She stooped to lift a stick from the firewood and raised it over her head.

  Storm easily plucked the weapon from her hands.

  “You will not strike my wife,” he said.

  Red Corn Woman stepped from her lodge and Beautiful Meadow turned to her.

  “Do you see what he has done? He has made me the laughingstock of your entire tribe.”

  Red Corn Woman draped an arm about Beautiful Meadow’s shoulders and steered her away from Sky and Storm. “But you are a strong woman. You must keep your head up. Such behavior as this does you no credit.”

  Beautiful Meadow glanced back at Sky. “I hate her. She will never be my sister.”

  “That will make for an unhappy home and an unhappy husband.”

  “I should break our engagement.”

  Red Corn Woman spoke in a voice filled with authority and calm. “That is your right. But perhaps you should think on this. I do not like to brag, but my son is very accomplished and has a bright future. He will serve his people well and his wives will be greatly respected. Of course, if you choose to go back to your people, we will understand.”

  Beautiful Meadow pulled away and looked back at Sky and Storm.

  “I am not going back to my people. She is.” Beautiful Meadow dashed away.

  Red Corn Woman returned to her son. “You did not even tell her of this other woman?”

  * * *

  The next day did not go as planned. Skylark and Night Storm did manage to go foraging, which caused some good-natured kidding among the young men of his circle. None believed he trailed his new wife into the forest in order to pluck flowers and dig roots. Unfortunately, all he did was dig roots.

  When they returned, it was to sly looks from the men and tittering laughter from the women. They received congratulations from so many people she was dizzy with it and wanted to turn right back to the woods for some solitude.

  “They want my father’s favor,” said Night Storm. “That is why they offer blessings.”

  “Or they want your favor.”

  “Mine? I am no one anymore.”

  His words hurt her.

  “You are and you will be again. Come, let’s make medicine.”

  Back at his lodge she set to work and he patiently drank the tea she made. He said it made his stomach rumble, but he had no ill effects. She had not anticipated Red Corn Woman’s pride in her new daughter would cause news of her healing skills to travel so quickly about the camp, but before Skylark had time to put away the medicine she had brewed there was an old woman before her with stiff hand joints. Skylark made her a salve with peppermint and wild ginger, then sent her off. Next came a young mother with a child who had a dry cough.

  She treated poison oak and hornet stings, dry, scaling skin and itching feet. She treated cramps that come when a woman breaks her link with the moon, women with sore nipples from feeding their babies, stomach troubles, breathing troubles and one child with eyes running with pus.

  Night Storm went to see Beautiful Meadow and her uncle Thunder Horse, and returned scowling.

  Gradually over the next several days, women came for their men, who would no
t seek the advice of a woman but sent their wives and mothers to do just that. She had so much work that Red Corn Woman set her youngest daughter to help her create her cures and learn all she could. Fills a Kettle was bright and learned quickly, but she was so eager to learn that she asked to come along on the foraging trips with her brother, and Sky was running out of excuses.

  The morning of the waning quarter moon, Sky peeled the outer skin of the large burdock roots she had discovered the previous day and Storm sipped his tea.

  “Beautiful Meadow wishes for me to ask your permission to come with us today.”

  Skylark groaned. “She’ll likely slit my throat when we are alone.”

  “She says she wants to learn where to find the medicine plants and how to identify them and thought if I asked, you might allow her to come.”

  “Has she ever shown an interest in healing?”

  “In truth she is most interested in beads and sewing.”

  “For herself?”

  “Well, so far she has only needed to sew for herself.”

  Sky managed to keep from rolling her eyes.

  “Do you think that is wise?” What if he had a spell before them?

  “How would you have learned if no one showed you? Besides, she has made a gesture, a first step. Skylark, when you are gone, she will be my wife.”

  That comment hit home and lodged like a thorn. Why did it hurt so much when he spoke no more than the truth?

  “Or you could stay,” he said.

  “I will not be a second wife. Or a first wife.” Sky had seen more than a few families with two or more wives. Most women in this circumstance were not happy and some wives were miserable. Her mother had chosen to live alone rather than be a second wife. Sky had taken her advice to heart. To have a husband would be wonderful. But it was preferable to be alone than to watch your husband crawl from one sleeping robe to the other. In addition the thought of sharing a lodge with Beautiful Meadow gave her the shivers. She might become more like her father and stay out all night just to avoid being in the same tepee with her.

  “I will go at the gathering,” she said.