Wild Splendor

by Cassie Edwards

  “My new name is savage, though?” Runner said, leaning back and gazing with red and swollen eyes up at Leonida. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Some of the other children who were my friends while I lived at the fort called my name savage when they heard that Sage had assigned me a Navaho name.” His lips curved into a pout. “I want to be called Trevor again.”

  Leonida was torn. Here was a child having to adjust to the loss of a mother, as well as many other new things all at once.

  Yet she saw the importance in his not giving in to those who wrongly tormented him. In truth, Leonida felt that perhaps the children were jealous of the special attention that Runner was getting in the Indian village. Jealousy fired much ugliness among people, children as well as adults. It was up to her to make sure that Runner knew the difference between jealousy and sincere feelings and learned how to react to both when confronted by them.

  “Darling, I think your new name is beautiful, and I don’t think you should toss it away just because of what a few children said to you about it,” she tried to explain, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “Do you think Sage’s name is savage?”

  “No,” Runner said, sniffling. His trusting eyes gazed into Leonida’s. “I like his name. It is Navaho like my name, Runner? It is not a savage name?”

  “I like his name also,” Leonida said, smiling at him. “And yes, it is Navaho. Now you tell me. Do you think it is a savage name?”

  “No,” Runner said, his eyes innocently wide.

  “Nor is your name, Runner,” Leonida said matter-of-factly. She drew him close and hugged him. “Now let’s not hear any more talk about not wanting a new name, or about the word ‘savage.’ Run on outside. There are plenty of other children that you can play with if Sally keeps Adam in his lean-to.”

  As Leonida put Runner on the floor, her gaze stopped at the breechclout. She saw it as nothing short of precious in the way it fit his tiny body. And his skin was becoming tanned, soon perhaps to be the same shade of copper as the skin of the other Navaho children.

  She so badly wanted life to be fair to him. He had lost so much already, and at such a young age. She hoped that Sally would see the wrong in her behavior today. Runner was just a child.

  “I wish I could play with Adam,” Runner said, taking Leonida’s hand as they left the bedroom. He looked trustingly up at her. “Do you think I’ll be able to play with him again? He likes me. I know he likes me.”

  Leonida walked Runner on to the door, then knelt down before him. She put her hands on each side of his face and drew his lips to hers. She gave him a kiss, then drew him into her arms again. “Yes, Adam likes you,” she murmured. “And I’m sure he’ll play with you again. But not today, honey. Play with the other children today.”

  Runner nodded, then eased away from Leonida and left the hogan.

  Leonida sighed as she got back to her feet. She eyed the steaming stew, realizing that it needed stirring again. As she went and knelt before the fire, she was not aware that someone entered the hogan. She jumped with a start when a movement beside her revealed that she was not alone.

  Dropping the spoon into the stew, Leonida scrambled to her feet. She sighed and smiled down at Pure Blossom, who stood with her arms filled with freshly made bread.

  “Pure Blossom, you weren’t supposed to be working over a hot stove today,” Leonida scolded, glancing from the bread up at Sage’s sister. Her cheeks were sunken. Her eyes were dark pits. “You were supposed to be resting. It’s extraordinarily hot today. Even I feel weakened from the heat.”

  Pure Blossom leaned shakily toward the floor and placed the bread beside the fire. “Pure Blossom happy cooking and weaving,” she said softly.

  Leonida placed her arm around Pure Blossom’s waist and helped her back to a standing position.

  “Pure Blossom same as dead if she does not do what makes her happy,” Pure Blossom said, breathing hard. “Please not fuss over me. Please?”

  Sighing, Leonida nodded. “All right,” she said. “I promise not to fuss over you. But please try not to do so much, especially in this sort of heat.”

  “I promise,” Pure Blossom said, giggling. She coughed into a cupped hand, then turned toward the door. “Now Pure Blossom goes home and rests.”

  When she teetered, momentarily losing her balance, Leonida went to her rescue. She placed an arm around Pure Blossom’s tiny waist and steadied her. “I’m going to walk you home,” she said in a determined voice. “I’m going to see to it that you get into bed.”

  “You are fussing over Pure Blossom again,” she said, smiling up at Leonida.

  “Yes, I guess I am,” Leonida said, returning the smile. “And I see that you are allowing it this time.”

  “Yes, it is easy to,” Pure Blossom said, getting more winded the more she struggled to walk. She leaned into Leonida’s willing embrace as they stepped out into the blinding sunshine of late afternoon.

  Then they both stopped and stared at the approaching Indians on horseback. Leonida realized quickly that they were not Navaho. “Pure Blossom, who are they?” she asked as Sage and several of his warriors left an outdoor council to greet the mounted visitors. “What tribe are they from? How did they know to find the stronghold so easily?”

  Pure Blossom twisted her face into a frown. “They are Kiowa,” she said, her voice practically a hiss. “They come and trade for our blankets and wool from our sheep, and even fruits from our gardens. They are few in number now, and they hide also from the wrath of the white man’s pony soldiers. The chief of this small band of Kiowa is Chief Four Fingers, a man I have despised since the death of my parents.”

  “He’s responsible?” Leonida whispered back, her eyes following the chief, who was leading the others closer to Sage and his waiting warriors.

  “All we knew was that renegades killed our parents, but Pure Blossom suspects Four Fingers is somehow responsible,” she said sourly. “He brought their bodies to the village. He said other renegades killed them.”

  “Why would you not believe him?” Leonida asked, watching the hefty, middle-aged Kiowa chief dismount. He suddenly turned to her, closely scrutinizing her. A chill crossed her flesh, and she felt as though he was undressing her with his eyes. Although he was a handsome man, Leonida felt nothing for him except a keen fear. His eyes were not friendly. They were cold and guarded even as he turned away and reached a hand of friendship out for Sage to accept.

  “So often he is known to be a man of forked tongue,” Pure Blossom said. “He has found only a measure of friendship with the Navaho since the white settlers came to this land that once belonged solely to the Indians. My brother, Sage, saw it was wise to keep alliances with other tribes of Indians in case war broke out between the whites and our people. In numbers the whites might be defeated. The Kiowa added to that number. So they are important now, but only until their alliance is no longer needed. Then my brother will send them away, enemies again.”

  “They were once the Navaho’s enemy?”

  “Yes, and it has never been an easy or trusting peace.”

  Leonida was surprised when Pure Blossom wrenched herself away and began walking boldly, and with much more energy than she had had moments ago, toward the assemblage of Indians.

  “Come,” Pure Blossom said over her shoulder. “We join the council. Sister and wife of Chief Sage are allowed.”

  Leonida hesitated for a moment, unsure that she should, or even wanted to, then she rushed ahead and walked beside Pure Blossom. Her gaze never left Chief Four Fingers as Sage offered him a seat on a spread blanket in a gesture of friendship. When the Kiowa chief crossed his legs and then placed his hands on his knees, her eyes widened as she stared at his left hand. Its thumb was missing.

  “How did he lose his thumb?” Leonida whispered, leaning closer to Pure Blossom so she would be the only one to hear.

  “His story is that it happened as a child,” Pure Blossom whispered back, “when he tried to free an imprisoned raccoon that
had gotten ensnared in a white man’s steel trap.”

  She cast a bitter look toward Leonida. “It is one of his forked tongue tales,” she hissed. “I am sure he got it in a cowardly act, not a courageous one. It is impossible for Pure Blossom to see anything about him that is likable—or trusting. I have warned my brother to guard his words carefully while talking to the Kiowa chief.”

  They had reached the blanket. Leonida felt out of place as the Kiowa and Navaho warriors turned their eyes to her and Pure Blossom.

  But following Pure Blossom’s lead, she sat down on the blanket; Sage’s sister gave her the spot beside Sage, on his right side. The Kiowa chief was on Sage’s left. When he leaned out and stared directly into Leonida’s eyes, she felt a foreboding in the pit of her stomach.

  She looked quickly away from him, afraid, herself trusting him no more than Pure Blossom did. It was there in his eyes, the way they gleamed, that he was untrustworthy.

  “You are aware that the white pony soldiers, led by Kit Carson, are perhaps dangerously close?” Sage said, trying to draw Chief Four Fingers’s attention away from Leonida. Sage wished that Pure Blossom had not joined the council this time, bringing Leonida into the center of attention also. Yet he was glad to see Pure Blossom showing revived energy. It gave him hope that perhaps her end might be delayed.

  He understood just how little his sister trusted the Kiowa chief. Little did she know that he trusted Four Fingers even less. He was just tolerating the Kiowa chief because it was best to have him as an ally at this time instead of an enemy. Sage would even ride beside Four Fingers if it meant ridding this land of the white pony soldiers. Only time would tell which was most necessary—tolerating the Kiowa chief or the white pony soldiers.

  “We have seen Kit Carson and the white pony soldiers searching the land,” Four Fingers said, turning his attention to Sage. “We rode quickly into hiding. Is it you he seeks? It was rumored that you walked away from the council you were having with Kit Carson and the others at the fort.”

  He puffed his bare chest out proudly. “Four Fingers did not go to council,” he said smugly. “The humiliating words of the white man did not enter my ears and touch my heart. They did not reach as far as the mountains where I have my stronghold. There I stayed, minding my own business, leaving the white man to wonder how he can force this powerful Kiowa chief out of hiding.” He chuckled low. “And so it is now that they are looking for you instead of Chief Four Fingers. Did it not prove who was the most wise between chiefs?”

  Sage’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed in anger. “You speak loosely to this chief with whom you have come to trade,” he said flatly. “Let us get it behind us so that you can return to your tepee and I can return to my hogan. The day is waning. I have other pleasures awaiting me than being with a chief whose words tire me.”

  They discussed trading, making bargains between themselves that suited both tribes of Indians well enough. And when Sage thought it was over and had risen to his full height, even having helped his sister and wife up from the blanket, he was stopped dead when Chief Four Fingers said: “This white woman, she is your slave? She is one of the captives that I heard you took from a stagecoach? She is pretty. I will pay much for her. She will make a delightful love slave.”

  Lightheadedness swept through Leonida at the Kiowa’s words. She reached for Sage and clung to him, glad when he felt her distress and placed a comforting, possessive arm around her waist, to steady her against his side.

  “This woman you speak of is my wife,” Sage said, glaring at Chief Four Fingers. “Do not speak of her again to me.” He gave Leonida a comforting glance, then turned to the Kiowa chief again. “Your horses are now loaded with the supplies you have traded for. It is best that you leave.”

  Chief Four Fingers stepped around Sage and took it upon himself to touch Leonida’s hair, sighing at its utter softness, and then he gazed into her eyes again, giving her a slow, sure smile.

  Then he turned abruptly and left.

  Sage held Leonida close until they could no longer see the Kiowa descending the mountainside.

  “I’m frightened,” Leonida said, trembling. “Did you see the way he looked at me? He does not seem the sort to take no for an answer.”

  “Chief Four Fingers needs the alliance of the Navaho too much to do anything foolish that might harm their peace,” Sage said, swinging her around so that he could hold her in his arms. “Do not fret so. While you are in my village, among my people, nothing will happen to you.” He looked in all directions, then into Leonida’s eyes again. “My sentries are posted well. They would let no one get past them, especially Chief Four Fingers, if he is caught sneaking about.”

  A sudden soft cry next to them drew them apart. Leonida stifled a scream behind her hand when she discovered that Pure Blossom had fainted and lay sprawled out on the blanket, looking more dead than alive.

  Sage fell to his knees beside Pure Blossom and whisked her slight form up into his arms. “I will take her to her hogan,” he said across his shoulder to Leonida. “Go to ours. I will return when my sister awakens. Stay in the hogan, my woman. You will be safe there.”

  The fact that he was ordering her to stay in the hogan made Leonida realize that he did not trust that she was safe from Chief Four Fingers all that much, either. The thought of Four Fingers even getting near her, much less touching her, made shivers of dread envelop her.

  “Let me go with you,” she pleaded, hurrying after him. “Perhaps I can help.”

  “You must be at the hogan for Runner,” Sage said, again over his shoulder. “He was among the children moments ago, watching the council. He is probably in our hogan now, awaiting your return. We do not want to give him cause to become frightened. Go to him. Stay with him.”

  Realizing that Sage was right, Leonida stopped and watched him carry Pure Blossom into her hogan, then turned and headed hurriedly toward hers. She glanced all around her, seeing the shadows deepening as the sun sank behind the high cliffs around the village.

  Again she shivered, hurrying toward the hogan. She would be counting the minutes with her every heartbeat until Sage returned to her and she could find a safe refuge within his powerful arms.

  Chapter 18

  How small a part of time they share,

  That are so wondrous, sweet and fair.

  —EDMUND WALLER

  Runner smelled clean from his bath as Leonida bent over him and drew a soft blanket up to his chin. She then kissed his brow and smoothed his black hair back from his face. “How sweet you are,” she whispered, touched by how he had listened so intently to her latest bedtime tale. She knew that soon she would have to start teaching him more than made-up tales. Since he would never have the opportunity to go to school, she would be responsible for giving him an education. Having been fortunate enough to have a thorough education herself, she knew even more than the fundamentals of English, mathematics, and . . .

  A noise in the outer room catapulted Leonida’s thoughts elsewhere. “Sage,” she whispered. “Finally, he’s returned home.”

  Anxious to find out how Pure Blossom was, she turned and walked briskly from Runner’s room, but stopped abruptly and gasped when she discovered Chief Four Fingers and two of his warriors.

  Leonida’s knees grew rubbery and a scream froze in her throat when a third Kiowa warrior stepped up behind her and clasped his fingers around her mouth, his other arm grabbing her tightly around her waist.

  Fear gripped her heart. She was too stunned to think straight, and then suddenly something seemed to snap inside her brain, releasing her from her fears. Finding the courage and strength to fight back, she pulled on the man’s hand that covered her mouth but couldn’t budge it. She grabbed and pulled at the arm locked around her waist. She kicked at him, but nothing caused him to loosen his hold on her.

  Knowing that she was wasting her energy, which she might need later in her attempts to escape, Leonida stopped struggling and glared at Chief Four Fingers as he moved
stealthily toward her. Her heart was pounding at the thought that perhaps the whole village was at the mercy of his warriors, the fear that perhaps even now Sage lay dead.

  The thought sickened her, yet she bravely held her chin up, her eyes looking unwaveringly into the Kiowa chief’s. She reminded herself that she had not heard any gunfire in the village or any commotion which might mean that the Navaho people had been taken by surprise in their sleep.

  This gave her hope that perhaps she was the only victim tonight.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she remembered Runner asleep in the next room. Should he awaken and come into the outer room to see what was happening, surely the Kiowa would kill him for his interference.

  “No one denies Chief Four Fingers anything,” the Kiowa chief said. He held a rifle in one hand, and with his free hand he traced the outline of one of Leonida’s breasts with a forefinger, causing her to shudder with distaste. “Four Fingers wants a white woman slave? He takes her.”

  Four Fingers stepped back from Leonida, smiling devilishly at her, and in what seemed a flash, she was gagged with a bright neckerchief and wrapped in the rabbit-fur cloak that had cushioned her back while Sage made love to her. A Kiowa warrior secured it around her with long strings of animal-hide rope.

  Totally disabled by the cloak, Leonida could not fight back when she was lifted onto the shoulder of one of the warriors and carried like a bundle of potatoes toward the door. The last thing she saw in the hogan was the squash blossom necklace which had broken and fallen from her neck during her struggles.

  And then she was outside. She strained her neck to look around to see if anyone else was being taken hostage. Seeing no one, she knew that Chief Four Fingers had dared to enter Sage’s village only for her. She had to wonder why the sentries had not stopped the silent midnight invasion. Sage had placed several in strategic places. It seemed impossible that the Kiowa warriors could have gotten past them.