War Cloud's Passion

by Karen Kay

  She asked, “If I did leave, why do you say we might be killed?”

  “Because,” he said, sitting back, “you are in Cheyenne country. After Sand Creek and the Washita, the Cheyennes will exact revenge should they come upon you and the children. And you would not have me or my brother there to defend you.”

  “Your brother would be going on with you, then?”

  “He must. It is his duty, as well as mine, to bring news to Tall Bull’s Dog Soldier camp.”

  “I see. But, if I left, isn’t there a possibility that I might come upon some of the warrior-whites, since it’s their presence in your country that’s the reason you are considering taking us to your camp?”

  “True,” he said. “You might. Go ahead and take that chance. I free you. You and the children are no longer my captives. Now, take them and go, for I must trek onward toward the Dog Soldier camp.”

  “But—”

  “Do not keep arguing with me. You must make the choice. A few nights ago we made a pact. I agreed to help you in exchange for something you could give me that was of some worth to me. Now, while you might not honor your side of our treaty, I am still bound by it, thus I am offering you the only thing that I can to get you through this alive.”

  She heard him, and took note of the subtle insult in his speech, the part about breaking her word; still, another thought crossed her mind and she frowned at him. “Are you telling me the truth?”

  War Cloud pulled his shoulders into a straight line; his head erect, his countenance infuriated. Obviously her question was just as offensive to him as his words had been to her, but she would not take it back. She needed to know.

  He said, “To lie is something that the white man would do. Not an Indian. Besides, why would I deceive you?”

  Anna was certain, because of the topic of their discussion, that her face was becoming even more scarlet than the red paint she had once witnessed upon this mans face. She said, however, “It would not be above some men to make up this threat of danger—to pretend there were unsettled problems when there weren’t—in order to…to…”

  She stopped. She couldn’t finish the sentence. Somehow she knew that what she’d been about to say wasn’t true anyway. Unless this man were an actor as great as any Shakespearean player, he was being as truthful with her as he could. There had been nothing fake in the worry she had witnessed upon his face.

  In the meantime, however, War Cloud had pulled back, away from her, his features unreadable as he said, “Go! You are free. Go collect your children. I will help you on your journey by pointing you in the right direction.” Again, he made to leave; but again, she held him back.

  “Please, sir, I’m sorry. I should not have insulted you. But I am new to your country and I don’t understand why, if there are white soldiers in this area, and if I left with the children, you think our chances of being killed are great.”

  He sighed; he glanced skyward as though looking for mercy, but he answered her question nonetheless. “Because,” he said, “the soldiers are not looking for you. Because the warrior-whites do not track well. Because my people are looking for the soldiers and so there are many war parties out upon the plains. Because my people know this land better than the soldiers. Because my people would find your trail and track you. Because you do not know how to provide food for yourself and these children. Because if you are not found by the warrior-whites in time, you would starve—there are too many of you to feed.”

  He paused to take a breath, “Because—”

  She held up her hand. “That is enough.”

  Whew, she thought. Make no mistake; had she only herself to think about, she would leave. But she was not alone. She was responsible for twelve other lives, twelve young children who depended on her to do the right thing. Would she have to agree to this man’s plan?

  Humiliated, she said, “Please, sir, is there no other way?”

  He gazed away from her.

  And she pressed on, “Couldn’t we pretend a carnal knowledge of one another, just as we are faking a marriage? Could we not do this—at least until there comes a time when we might be properly married?”

  He sighed. “I can never marry you.”

  “But if you take that which is only a husband’s right to take, sooner or later you must come to terms with what you have done. Sooner or later you must make it good.”

  “Do not speak more to me of marriage, for I cannot marry you—ever…you or anyone else.”

  Her lips formed the word “Oh.”

  He squatted back down beside her, his gaze far away from her. He said, “I did not know you meant marriage when we made that treaty; otherwise…”

  She nodded.

  He sat silent for several more beats in time. At last he said, “Perhaps we could try to ‘pretend’ the physical act, as well. If so, I only hope that I can hide my passions from those who know me well.”

  “And do you think you could do it? Hide your, ah…” She paused as a wave of inspiration struck her, and she said, “What about your wives? Could you not seek to assuage your, ah…needs with them?”

  She glanced at him only to catch a look from him so full of amazement, she did not know what to think. But he seemed to recover well enough and swiftly enough to say, “We have talked enough.”

  “But—”

  He arose so abruptly, stooping over her so quickly, that for a second, while he picked up his weapons, she felt as though her breath had been taken away. And without so much as a single glance in her direction, he trod off as quickly as his legs would take him.

  What had she said?

  She watched his figure retreating into the distance, wondering at his strange behavior, yet marveling at his masculine perfection at the same time. In truth, she scrutinized him and, Lord help her, she was not so innocent that she could not observe a pained gait when she saw one; nor the telltale evidence, when she at last allowed herself to look toward the man’s midsection, of the truth that he spoke.

  Anna knew she should be shocked at the direction of her thoughts, at the path of her gaze. But she was not. No, though she would be hard-pressed ever to admit such a thing, down deep within herself, she rejoiced.

  The man had been telling the truth.

  He desired her. Somehow the knowledge gave her strength.

  Chapter Fifteen

  War Cloud was not happy with himself.

  Not only had he admitted too much to her, conversely, he should have told her more. True, he had needed to confess his physical awareness of her in order that she understand the danger. But he had left out the most important threat: that inevitable peril from himself.

  He should tell her. He should detail all of it to her, and he knew that he could not let the evening pass without speaking to her again.

  That he had been careless with his facts, that he should be caught so completely off guard by his own fabrication regarding his marital state, made him realize that he had been dealing too readily in the realm of untruths.

  But why not? She was white, which essentially made her an adversary. Why should he trust her with his secrets?

  He sat completely still, lingering upon a slight rise in the land, while he contemplated his situation. Having tramped to this spot, which lay some distance away from her, he stared out into the starlit night and, centering his attention upon his deficiencies, debated what he should do.

  While he had not wished to plague Anna with his personal troubles, he feared he already had entrapped her in them—and she, without knowing it…

  This seemed to be a journey of firsts for him, he thought. The first time he helped the whites; the first time a woman had made a suggestive overture to him; the first time he would have to take what that woman offered without giving anything in return.

  If only there were another way. Was there one? Had he overlooked something?

  He reviewed his facts: If he took the gift Anna offered and married her, the curse would ensure Anna’s ultimate demise.

&n
bsp; Not good. What else could he do?

  He could refuse her offer and do as she suggested: pretend that she was his wife. If he were strong enough, if he were good enough, he could do this.

  Unfortunately, this was not quite a workable alternative. It was one he had considered briefly but had discarded. He had not lied when he had warned her of his passionate nature, or of the consequences to her and the children if he were found out in the lie.

  And it could too easily happen. Sparked by Sand Creek, many of the Dog Soldiers were committing terrible depredations along the frontier, and no white woman or child was immune. That those same warriors would be in the Dog Soldier camp, that those same warriors would consider it their duty to assault and kill Anna, went without question.

  And the children? It was hard to say what would happen to the children. Some would be adopted into the tribe. Others would not.

  No, the danger was real. If War Cloud wanted to keep the woman and the children safe, he would need a shield behind which they could stand that no one in his camp could shatter.

  A marriage bed with no marriage. It was the only real solution, but it was also one she would not sanction.

  Of course, he could give in to her wishes and marry her—particularly since she was demanding it. It would solve his immediate problems. But it would give her so many more.

  For, if she only knew it, the curse carried with it a complication, one that no one from their clan had at first contemplated.

  Will be unlucky in love.

  No one had known the extent of loss that would eventually accompany those words. The realization of it had not come easily; had been discovered by experience only.

  He could not let her discover the truth of it in the same way, not and be true to himself and to his brother.

  No, he had little choice: he must seek her out. He must confess it all, with no regard for his own welfare in doing so.

  But how was he to do it?

  Glancing in her direction, he realized that it mattered not how he said it, the only important thing being that it be said.

  And if she ended up hating him, then he would have to live with that.

  He bowed his head and set himself to do it. It might not a perfect solution, but it was all that he had.

  She had not budged from the spot where he had left her, he noted, and he expelled a harsh breath before treading up to her. Without preamble, he uttered, “We must talk…more.”

  Her glance up at him was worried, puzzled and aroused all at the same time. Upon seeing it, his body answered hers involuntarily, making its needs so well known to him that he thought he might quietly go out of his mind.

  She murmured, “Of course. Won’t you sit down?”

  He came down in his customary cross-legged position, settling quietly beside her. The mild wind caught at his hair for a moment, pushing it to the side, and he listened to the crickets absentmindedly, their noise soothing his nerves. Gathering his thoughts, he centered his attention on one thing only: how to start.

  At length he confessed, “I am not married. There are no wives that I can seek out to satisfy my needs.”

  He heard the slight catch in her voice. It was the only reaction that he witnessed before she said, “I beg your pardon?”

  He repeated, a little louder, “I have no wives. There is no one—”

  “Thank you, Mister War Cloud. I heard you.” She drew in a deep breath before continuing, “I had wondered.” She frowned. “But I don’t understand. Why would you say this to me?”

  “I was trying to discourage you.”

  These last few words brought a scowl to her face. Nonetheless, all she said was, “Oh.”

  “Hova’ahane.” Her thoughts were as easy to read as a buffalo bull’s prints in mud, and realizing the direction of her thoughts, he sought to comfort her. “You misunderstand. I did not wish to discourage you because there is anything lacking in you.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Hova’ahane.” He inhaled deeply and took the plunge, stating, “I did it because of me.”

  She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know,” he said, nodding. “Bear with me, for I will seek to enlighten you. It is why I have sought you out again this night,” he said. “There are some things about me that you must understand. And so, although I am reluctant to bare the matters of my family to you, I fear that I must.” He sat as perfectly still as he could as he began. “Five times I have been ready to marry. Four times my brides left me before the deed could be done, and the last time, my wife ran away with another man only a few days after our marriage. After that, I swore I would never marry again.”

  Her expression was full of puzzlement. She asked, “Is there something wrong with you?”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Haahe, there is a great deal wrong with me, I fear. I had hoped to keep from telling you this, for it is not something that brings me happiness, but I find that, if I am to protect you, you must know everything.”

  He could see that she was puzzled, but to her credit, she did not utter a word; she simply watched him. He started, “All of my family and all my kin are cursed. It is a bad spell, a very bad spell, for it will doom my entire clan if it is not broken soon. And yet, no one has been able to set my family free of it in these hundreds of years past.”

  He watched her closely, observing that Anna’s expression changed not at all as she said, “And what is this spell?”

  He hesitated, lingering over his thoughts for a little while before he stated, “The curse has to do with marriage, but that is all I can tell you. Know that the curse would affect you if you were to marry me.”

  “But I don’t understand. How would it affect me? I am not part of your clan.”

  He turned to her with one eyebrow raised. “You would be part of my family if you married me.” He kept his eyes on her as his words registered with her. He watched as her countenance became skeptical, watched as something resembling a gray cloud washed over her features.

  “Nonsense!” she said, a glint of anger gathering in her eyes. “I must tell you, Mister War Cloud, that if this is your way of frightening me so that I will no longer plague you with demands for marriage, it is a wasted effort.”

  She pushed a lock of hair back from her face before continuing, “First of all, we have resolved the difficulty between us by agreeing to pretend to be married. Secondly, I do not believe in curses.”

  Her manner was so brisk that instinct clamored within him to get to his feet and leave; honor kept him seated. He said, “We have not ‘resolved’ our disagreement over the marriage bed. I tell you what I do so that you can understand why I must ask you to reconsider, if you wish your stay in my village to be without incident.”

  “But you said—”

  “That I would try to pretend, yes, but it is not that simple.”

  As she sat up a little straighter, glaring into his eyes, he was reminded of a mountain lioness he had once seen fighting for her cubs. She said, “Now, let me repeat this so that I can be sure we are both talking about the same thing. I will only bed you if we are married; you will not marry me.”

  He nodded.

  And she continued, “You are demanding husbandly rights without marriage, based on the fact that it will provide the children and me with safety once we reach your village.”

  “That is right.”

  “Am I right in assuming the only reason you will not marry me is because of the curse?”

  Another nod.

  “Well, then, there is no problem, Mister War Cloud. For as I said, I do not believe in curses. It will have no effect on me. You can then keep your part of our treaty and marry me.”

  “And if I do this, if I do as you ask, it will mean your ultimate demise.”

  “Why?”

  He groaned. “Because, since that day when the curse first started, no one has ever married into our clan and survived it.”

  Her eyes were round, when she asked, “What do you
mean?”

  “Those who marry us,” he said, “either leave within the first few days after the marriage, or, if they stay, they die…”

  “Are you telling me, too, that if I marry him, I will die?” Anna could barely believe she had heard War Cloud correctly the previous evening. But after he had delivered this coup de théâtre, he had fled from her so quickly that she had been left staring at the empty place where he had been. She had not been able to question him.

  And she had fretted all night.

  She now sat with Lame Bird, having cornered the boy upon his return to their camp this morning. She watched as the lad set up his watch on a slight incline.

  Lame Bird nodded to her and signed, “Yes, if you marry him, you will die.”

  “Well,” she stated, “I don’t believe it.” She followed these words with the gestures of sign language.

  “And yet,” countered Lame Bird in the same language, “what he told you is true. No one has survived a marriage to any member of our family.”

  Anna sat up on her knees, her attention drawn inward for a moment. She asked, “Then how does your clan…” She stalled. What was the hand motion for “procreate”? After a slight pause, she began again, asking in sign, “How does your clan have babies?”

  Lame Bird looked up at her with concern. He signed, “Do not worry yourself with that. You should remember only that you must not marry him, if this is the reason you have sought me out. To marry him would kill you.”

  “Well, I don’t believe it,” she signed. “If that were true, then how did you and he even get born?”

  “Eaaa,” said Lame Bird, his glance falling to the ground. Nevertheless, he signed, “Sometimes the other person does not die for several years, and this allows children to be born. But it is said that fear of our curse has traveled so far afield, even into our enemies’ camps, that there are few who willingly marry us—and stay with us. It has been many years since a child was born to our clan. I am the last. And now with many of us being killed at Sand Creek and the Washita, our family begins to despair that we might, indeed, be the last of our kind.”