by Jenna Kernan
“More reason to let Beautiful Meadow come along.”
It was a mistake. She felt it in her heart, but still she nodded her acceptance.
“All right then. If you wish it,” said Sky.
“She has found three other women who wish to join you.”
Sky’s hands stilled as she considered the implications of this request. Three women, friends of Beautiful Meadow, and Skylark. She did not like those odds.
“What do you suggest?” she asked, turning the slippery root in one hand and the skinning knife in the other.
“There is no sign of enemies in our territory. So, they should come,” he said. “But I should not. My friends have stopped teasing and begun to give me odd looks once more. They know something is wrong. It is nearly the War Moon. They are eager to raid the Sioux camps and take all the horses they can find.”
He did not say the rest. But she knew. He wanted to go, too. He wanted to gallop along with his fellows, take her back to the Low River people and make amends with Beautiful Meadow by bringing her many horses. She felt the pain in her chest bubble up inside her until she could barely breathe. Their eyes met. Why did this man have to be promised to another?
Because he was one of the most eligible men among his tribe. Of course he had women to choose from and he had picked the prettiest, most accomplished woman of the Wind Basin people. One with a powerful uncle and a warrior father who could help him rise among his new tribe. She also had a temper to rival a wolverine’s.
What did she have? A heyoka father with much power and no power. A lodge she shared with her aunt and uncle and a bag of healing herbs. If they had met first, she knew that Storm would not have chosen her.
“We will talk about the raid this evening.”
“I have had no further falls.”
“Perhaps the tea is working.”
“I could test this cure.”
“How?” she asked.
He motioned toward his bow. She felt the fingers of fear grip her heart. When had his welfare become more than part of their bargain? She swallowed back her dread because the hope in his eyes made her hesitate from giving her denial. A man should not have to wait for permission to ride.
“I could go for a hunt with the others.”
She nodded, ignoring the tugging in her middle. “Keep Frost with you. Watch him carefully.”
His eyes twinkled with excitement as he dropped the pestle he had used to grind leaves to pulp and lifted his bow.
“If your dog barks at you, howls or even whines, then you must leave the others—”
“Yes. I know. Find a tree.”
If he had time, she thought, as unease crept over her like a thick mist. He stood, looking taller suddenly and more alive.
Storm slung the bow over his back and Frost leaped to his hind legs, then spun in a jubilant circle. She watched them dance, Storm holding Frost’s front paws. Finally he released his dog, that dropped back to all fours. Storm reached for her. Before she could protest he had her up and in his arms. He spun her in a circle so fast that her legs lifted up behind her. She feared she might overturn the tripod that held the cooking kettle Storm’s mother had given her.
Finally he set her back down, but then hugged her again until they were both laughing and Frost barked. They drew apart instantly and stared at the dog. Frost sat down and stared back, his tongue lolling. It was enough to remind them both of the danger.
“He seems all right,” said Storm.
“So do you,” she replied.
He blew away a long breath and she worried her lower lip, regretting encouraging him to go. She waited as he gathered his hunting things and then walked with him, carrying the buffalo bladders she would fill by the stream. At the river, she hugged him and they touched foreheads. She had meant the gesture only for show, but found her emotions genuine as she wished him luck and worried over him as he took his leave. Frost trotted after his master. She stared after them until they were out of sight.
“Keep watch over him, boy,” she whispered. When she could no longer see him, she resumed her duties, filling the bladders and returning to her tepee to discover Beautiful Meadow waiting with four women. One was familiar. Storm’s sister, Fills a Kettle, greeted her wearing a freshly made carrying bag that looked remarkably like hers, except Fills a Kettle had died the buckskin of her bag an appealing dark green.
“My brother told me you were collecting medicine and invited me along,” said his sister.
Sky’s mouth quirked. Had Storm sent his sister as protection against trouble from Beautiful Meadow and her friends?
“You are welcome, of course.”
They set off on the journey to the wooded area. Sky did her best to identify the plants and their uses to her companions. Fills a Kettle gathered many things, but Beautiful Meadow seemed more interested in asking questions.
Over the journey she discovered all about Sky’s mother, her aunt and uncle and her father, Falling Otter. Sky was more exhausted from talking than from gathering. At last Beautiful Meadow left her to speak with her friends who also did not gather anything but food.
“She is making trouble for you,” said Fills a Kettle. “You should send her away and don’t answer any more of her questions. I am sure that she is up to something.”
Sky lifted her chin, feigning a confidence she did not feel. “My husband loves me. She can do nothing to me.”
“She has a tongue like a whip,” said Fills a Kettle. “I do not trust her. I am even wondering if my brother should reconsider his offer to wed her.”
“He cannot break his promise.”
“Yes. That is so and why I believed that he brought you home to make Beautiful Meadow break the engagement. Instead, she seems to plan to send you back to your people.”
Sky thought she could save her the trouble. But Beautiful Meadow’s efforts might give Sky the easy excuse she would need to leave Storm at the gathering.
“I hope she does not involve her uncle in this. Thunder Horse is a fearsome shaman. I know some who prefer to take their chances than to call him to their lodge.”
“But why?” asked Sky. Their shaman, Spirit Bear, was kind and very powerful. He had visions that helped him know what the people should do and his words were very respected among the tribal council.
Sky had looked forward to meeting the shaman, Thunder Horse, but now that she knew he was the uncle of Beautiful Meadow, she was much less anxious.
Throughout the afternoon Sky pointed out various useful plants to Fills a Kettle as the other three women trailed behind them, collecting roots and firewood. Sky thought she should be listening to their words. Their harsh laughter was clear enough.
But her mind was on Night Storm. Was he all right? Had he fallen again? She was so worried that he might need her. But she couldn’t very well go chasing after a hunting party.
Before the sun had reached the treetops, she led them back to the camp of the Black Lodges. Beautiful Meadow said the she did not like digging in the roots of trees like a wild pig and disliked dirt under her fingernails. But she said it was a job that suited Sky, since she was already low to the ground.
“Maybe your mother should have named you Dirt, instead of Sky.”
Her friends tittered at the jab. So much for becoming friends, thought Skylark.
“Thank you for keeping me company, Beautiful Meadow.”
She snorted. “There is still time to set out his things before he returns.”
“Good night,” Sky said.
Fills a Kettle looped arms with her and Sky felt immensely grateful.
Fills a Kettle whispered to Sky, “I’m going to tell Storm how mean Beautiful Meadow is. It’s lucky to learn this now, before she is his wife. That woman is insufferable.”
“But he loves her. I heard him
tell her so.”
Fills a Kettle groaned. “Men can be so stupid.”
Sky laughed and squeezed her new sister’s arm. “Thank you for watching over me today.”
They returned in time to help prepare a meal with Red Corn Woman, who showed Sky how to make her elk stew.
When Frost appeared at Red Corn Woman’s tepee, Sky was on her feet and running toward the river where the warriors kept their horses.
Chapter Twelve
Skylark found Night Storm dividing up an elk with the other men. She was so relieved she gave a little shout. Storm turned and had time to drop his steel knife before she leaped into his arms. He caught her easily and held her tight. It was only when she heard the men’s laughter and bawdy comments that she recognized how forward her behavior really was. He grinned and set her on her feet. He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “You even convinced me that you are a new bride who is anxious for her husband’s attentions.”
She blinked and flushed. She had been so relieved to see him safe that she had let her emotions take over. She let her hands slip from around his neck.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
He grinned and motioned to the bounty before them. “I have brought you a fine elk skin. Since the Great Spirit blessed me with this kill.”
She beamed with pride. Not only had he not fallen, he had taken an elk. As customary, a hunter shared with the tribe. Sky was so honored to be with him when he distributed generous portions to friends and family. He did not forget the old women who had none to hunt for them or the woman and child that he had been assigned to provide for by the chief. The task of hunting for those who had none to hunt for them would soon be reassigned. Now that he was married, that duty would be given to another unmarried man. She could understand why Broken Horn, the chief, had picked her husband to hunt for a family in need. He was a good provider.
She slowed as reality sank in. Soon she would give him up. If he was really and truly well, he would not even need her.
Instead of filling her with joy, that possibility filled her with despair. She did not find his company tiresome, as she did with many of the men of her acquaintance. In fact, she craved it. But how could she find a way to be a real wife to him without losing her heart before the gathering? He was clearly not willing to set Beautiful Meadow aside, and she would not share a lodge with a woman who hated her. Storm easily captured her elbow and righted her.
“My bird is not usually so distracted that she would fall from a tree,” he teased, his smile making her stomach tighten and her breathing catch.
“I was thinking about Beautiful Meadow.”
“Oh, how was your trip today? Are you two becoming friends?”
She could not hold the smile on her face and his brow wrinkled.
“Skylark, what did you do?”
“I tried. She does not like me.”
“We will go see her together.”
“No. I think you should go there alone.”
“If you are sure.”
Sky thought he looked taller. Then she realized it was the pride at fulfilling his purpose that lifted him up and filled his chest with the winds of life.
“You are a good husband to bring so much meat,” she said.
It was easy to be the wife of such a man and if she was doing any pretending, it was pretending that her feelings for him were not becoming real. Sky recognized as he touched his forehead to hers that this game now threatened her heart. She was not so foolish as to let herself fall in love with him. She drew back as the longing warred with the knowledge that he had captured her to cure him, not to be his wife.
“I will meet you back at the lodge.”
His frown grew deeper but he let her go. “I will see you soon.”
But he was not home soon. She sat alone in her lodge and waited. Red Corn Woman called out to her to join them for their meal and she went.
As the sky grew dark and the sparks of the fire danced above the flames like fireflies, she glanced to those gathered around the circle. His father, Many Coups, rested on his seat back, his belly full as his daughters shared stories of the day. Members of the extended family had come to share her husband’s kill and some of his pride shone on her as the wife of the one who had taken such a large elk.
But Storm’s absence was there with them. He had stayed with Beautiful Meadow. Taken her meat and remained to feast with her, while leaving his new wife to his family. They did not understand and she could not explain that their joining was a lie, real only in her fantasies.
Finally Red Corn Woman called an end to the celebration, giving cooked meat to their guest to use in stews or eat cold the following day. Then the women stretched the skin on the large wooden frame, where it would remain until the morning, when they would gather again to clean the hide.
Sky touched foreheads with Red Corn Woman and wished the others good-night.
Inside their tepee, Sky sat upon her sleeping skin. She did not remember dozing, but she woke to the sound of murmured voices. A woman and a man. At first she had a fear that Storm had brought Beautiful Meadow back with him despite his promise to take only her for the two moons of their agreement. But then she recognized the voice of Red Corn Woman and Storm. At last the words fell to silence and Storm ducked inside the lodge with Frost. The dog found a place beside the dying fire and curled into a ball.
“Are you awake, wife?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“I just spoke to my mother. She says that our lodge was very quiet at night and asks if everything is all right with us between the buffalo robes?”
Sky’s skin went hot at the news that his mother had been listening for sounds of their lovemaking in the night.
“That is not her business.”
“I’m afraid it is. She has asked me to find out if you need instructions on your duties.”
“Oh, no.”
The idea of making grunting sounds and the shouts and cries she had heard coming from her aunt and uncle’s robes made her stomach flip.
“What should we do?”
“I do not know. I could tell her you are very quiet. But when you break your link with the moon, she will know you do not carry my child.”
Sky’s hand went to her empty belly and the sorrow was so deep she hunched around it. Was that how he felt to have lost his way on the warrior’s path? Empty and sad.
The Hunting Moon was waning and there was but one more moon until the gathering time. It was long enough to get with child. “Your mother will have to listen and wonder.”
“Do you find me unappealing?” he asked.
She hesitated before speaking. “I do not.”
“Then why will you not let me touch you? Why will you take no comfort from my body or let me take comfort from yours?”
She hesitated, debating her answer. The truth or some version of the truth. The trouble was that she did want him.
“Were you just with Beautiful Meadow?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take her to your buffalo robes?”
“She is still chaste.”
“So am I.”
“And you wish to remain so for your real husband?”
She wished to sink into the ground and vanish beneath the buffalo robes.
“Until the winter camp, we said. And you would return me as a maiden.”
“If you wish. But I would perform my duties with my wife. I am a good lover or so I have been told. Gentle and generous.”
That thought made her tingle all over.
“Would you like a child?” he asked tentatively.
Her throat closed so fast she did not have time to stop the little mewling cry that escaped her. Tears rolled from her eyes as she struggled to breathe. She could do it. R
aise a child alone. She made enough to support herself just with her salves and herbs. Her healing brought her more hides and meat than she needed.
“Sky?” he whispered.
But she could not have answered even if she knew what to say. Of course, she wanted a child. And she knew that she could make the choice her mother had made. Sky’s stomach cramped and her breathing grew raspy.
He moved to her now, settling at her side and drawing her against him. He cradled her in his arms with such tenderness that she cried harder.
“I want a...a husband and ch-children,” Sky managed. “But I do not want a man who loves another woman and does not love me.”
“I am sorry.” He stroked her head and back, rocking her like a mother comforting her child.
Finally her tears slowed and her breathing became steadier. She felt like a fool, but she did not draw a way, just swiped at her eyes.
“I want to touch you, Storm.” There was no one she wanted more than Storm. And she had him only until the Winter Camp Moon. Should she take what he offered?
Sky’s pulse began to pound. She could share his buffalo robes, explore his body and discover if what the married women said was true. That in the arms of a man there was found a pleasure beyond all others.
He took her hands.
Sky sat beside him in the dark deciding what to do. He wanted her. That alone was enough to make her say yes. And she wanted a man. Or she had to know the attentions of a man. Now she only wanted this man.
“Would you not rather lie with Beautiful Meadow?”
He stroked his fingers over her neck. “I wish to sleep with you, Skylark.”
With her, also, she thought. It hurt in her chest. She did not know why she was so jealous. She had no right. He had told her of his proposal to this woman before they made this bargain. She just had not expected to want him so much.
“Do you wish for me to touch you?” He went very still except his hand that slipped beneath her loose hair and stroked the column of her neck. The shivering reaction told him without words what his touch did to her.
“I do, but...”
“But?”
