Bright Star was understandably puzzled by Shadow’s abrupt lack of interest, as was Black Owl, though neither the girl nor Shadow’s father spoke of it.
The winter was thankfully short that year, and when he returned to Bear Valley, Two Hawks Flying was determined to see Hannah alone, even if he had to kill both her admirers to accomplish it. But first he would fulfill his promise to participate in the Sun Dance.
Every summer the Cheyenne met on the plains to give thanks to the Great Spirit for His blessings in the year past, and to ask for His continued help in the year to come. The celebration lasted twelve days.
The first four days were given to feasting and dancing, as all the various bands of the Cheyenne nation came together to participate in their most sacred ritual. There were foot races and horse races, wrestling matches, and contests of all kinds. Mothers showed off their young and renewed old acquaintances. Maidens donned their finest apparel and paraded through the camp, pointedly ignoring the young men. And the young men strutted about in their feathers and paint and elaborately decorated buckskin shirts, pretending to ignore the maidens. The children ran wild and free, getting into everything as they laughed and played to their heart’s content, while the old warriors sat in the sun, baking their bones as they spoke of the shining times before the coming of the white man.
They spoke of Red Cloud and how he had forced the whites to surrender the Bloody Bozeman Trail, and how he and his warriors drove the soldiers from Fort Phil Kearney and then burned it to the ground. They spoke of Black Kettle and Sand Creek. You couldn’t trust the whites, they said bitterly. Sand Creek was proof of that.
The second four days those who had volunteered to participate in the Sun Dance were taken aside and given instruction from the tribal holy men. By taking part in the dance, by willingly enduring the physical pain involved, the dancers were seeking the blessings of the Great Spirit, not only for themselves individually but for the entire tribe as well.
The last four days were sacred. On the first of these sacred days Thunder Running was sent out to find a cottonwood tree to be used as the Sun Dance pole. Not just any tree would do. The Sun Dance pole must be straight and strong and notched at the top.
When Thunder Running found just the right tree, he would mark it with red paint and return to the village.
On the second sacred day, the virtuous women of the tribe went out to find the sacred tree. Three times they looked. And three times they failed to find it. But the fourth time they spied the tree and hastened back to the village with the good news. Rejoicing, all who were able formed a ceremonial procession and followed the women back to the chosen tree. Upon reaching the site, four warriors counted coup on the tree. Then, one by one, the virtuous women took turns chopping down the selected cottonwood. The woman considered to be the most virtuous was given the honor of delivering the final blow, and Two Hawks Flying could not help feel a touch of pride when Bright Star was chosen for that honor.
The third sacred day the trunk of the cottonwood was painted four different colors, representing the four corners of the earth. Cutouts of a male buffalo and a male Indian, both with highly exaggerated genital organs, were placed in the fork of the tree, and then the tree was placed in position. After that, all the able-bodied warriors did a war dance around the pole, shooting arrows at the cutouts.
At dawn of the final sacred day, the tribal medicine men rose to greet the sun with special prayers and songs. And then the dancers were prepared for their ordeal. Two Hawks Flying stood with clenched fists, eyes raised to the sun, as Elk Dreamer inserted two skewers through the flesh of his chest, just above the nipples. Long rawhide sinews were suspended from the top of the Sun Dance pole and attached to the skewers in his chest. Then he was hauled upward and left hanging in mid-air, until the weight of his body ripped the skewers from his flesh and he fell to the ground. The pain was tremendous, worse than he had anticipated, and when it grew unbearable, he blew on the eagle bone whistle Elk Dreamer had given him, calling upon Man Above to help him endure his agony.
Below him, other warriors danced around the Sun Dance pole. Skewers had been inserted high in their backs and attached to the skewers were sinews tied to heavy buffalo skulls, and as they danced, they dragged the heavy skulls behind them. Other participants had skewers inserted into their chests with sinews attached to the Sun Dance pole, and as they blew their whistles, they rocked back on their heels, pulling against the thongs to increase the pain. A lone woman stood among the warriors. Her sacrifice had been bits of flesh cut from her arms. It was the only way women were allowed to participate in the ritual.
In one corner, four old men beat a sacred drum and chanted ancient songs and prayers to the Cheyenne gods. Their fervent supplications were accompanied by the intermittent shrill notes of the dancers’ whistles.
For a time, Two Hawks Flying watched the participants dancing below him, their steps in time with the drum. But as time dragged on, he forgot about his fellow sufferers, forgot everything but his own agony as the pain in his chest spread downward to every part of his body.
Floating on a red sea of pain, he stared into the sun as he blew his whistle.
“Hear me, Man Above. Accept my offering.”
The steady beat of the ceremonial drum throbbed like the heartbeat of his people, keeping time with the cadence of pain pounding through him. Again and again he blew his whistle, voicing his anguish in its high-pitched wail.
“Hear me, Man Above. Give me strength.”
The sun beat down on his face and chest. Sweat mingled with the blood oozing from his pierced flesh. His mouth felt dry and his body jerked convulsively as his agony increased. Lost in a world of pain, he summoned his waning strength and blew his whistle one last time.
“Hear me, Man Above, lest I perish.”
The words were a prayer in his heart, a desperate cry for relief, and his answer came in a mighty rushing of wings as two red-tailed hawks swept out of the bright blaze of the sun. Side by side, wings touching, they hovered near his head.
“Be brave,” the male hawk cried. “Be brave, and you shall be a mighty war leader among the people.”
“Be strong,” the female hawk cried. “Be strong, and everything you desire shall be yours.”
Everything you desire… Hannah’s image flashed across his mind. Then, with a mighty rush of powerful wings, the hawks were gone.
With their going, a merciful darkness dropped over Two Hawks Flying.
When he regained consciousness, he was in his father’s lodge. Moments later, New Leaf, one of his father’s wives, came in to treat his wounds.
Later, she fed him spoonfuls of thick venison stew flavored with sage and wild onions.
And then he slept.
Chapter Four
1875
My sixteenth birthday. I woke early that morning, even before Pa. Dressing quickly in an old blue gingham frock, I tiptoed down the stairs and out of the house. Whistling up Old Nellie, I swung a blanket over her sagging back and climbed aboard.
It was a beautiful, clear morning as I reined Nellie toward the river, wanting some time to be alone with my thoughts and maybe take a swim if the water wasn’t too dreadfully cold. All around me birds were singing hymns to the new day, while here and there bushy-tailed gray squirrels chattered as I rode by.
Near the river, a big four-point buck darted gracefully from sight, tail waving in the wind. I dismounted beneath a stand of lacy cottonwoods, smiling with the sheer joy of being young and alive on such a glorious day. Tethering Nellie to a stout sapling, I couldn’t help laughing out loud as she quickly buried her nose in the rich grass that covered the riverbank like a thick green carpet.
Stepping out of my clothes, I tested the tranquil water with my big toe. Then, taking a deep breath, I plunged into the river, gasping as the chill water closed over me. I swam briskly for ten minutes or so before making my way ashore. Shivering a little, I stood naked on the riverbank, letting the sun bake me dry before I slipp
ed back into my dress.
Feeling alive and refreshed, I stretched out on the thick, spongy sod and stared up at the bold blue sky. Lying there, I decided that I would marry Joshua. True, I liked Orin best and was flattered by his flowery compliments and winning smile, but Mother was right. Josh would make the best husband. And what he lacked in romance and pretty speeches, he more than made up for in sincerity and ambition.
Frowning, I plucked a dandelion and twirled it between my fingers. I had thought to feel a sense of happiness, or at least relief, once I made a choice between Josh and Orin. Instead, I felt oddly dissatisfied, even though I was certain I had made the right decision.
Disgruntled, I tossed the dandelion aside. Contemplating the vast blue dome of sky again, I knew that I wouldn’t be happy with Orin, either. The truth of the matter was, I just didn’t love either one of the Berdeen boys, not the way my mother loved my father. Oh, I was fond of Joshua, and I was fond of Orin, too. But my affection was that of a sister for a brother—nothing more. The longer I thought about it, the more I realized I had decided to marry Joshua simply because everyone expected it.
With a sigh, I plopped over on my stomach and gazed across the river at the distant mountains. Now that I had decided not to marry either of the Berdeen boys, who would I marry? Single young men were mighty rare in our part of the country. Most of the men moving West already had a wife. And children, too. Perhaps I should marry Joshua after all. Perhaps, in time, I would grow to love him. Perhaps…
A sudden rustling in the tall grass stilled my thoughts. Nellie let out a long, nervous whinny. I sat up, suddenly conscious of being alone and far from home as I wondered who, or what, was lurking in the thicket behind me. Apprehensively I glanced over my shoulder and spied the cause of Nellie’s unrest, an Indian brave mounted on a tall, red roan stallion.
It was Shadow, fully grown, and even more handsome than I remembered. Clad only in moccasins and the briefest of deerskin clouts, he was the closest thing to a completely naked man I had ever seen. I could not tear my eyes away. His legs were long and well-muscled by years of riding bareback; his belly was hard and flat, ridged with muscle; his shoulders broad. Two livid scars marred his bronze chest, proof that he had participated in the sacred ritual of the Sun Dance. A third scar zigzagged down his right shoulder, and I wondered fleetingly if the wound had been inflicted by the enemy warrior he had killed to earn the eagle feather that adorned his long black hair.
Like a bird hypnotized by a snake, I could not tear my gaze away from him. I could only stare, awed by his proud carriage, mesmerized by his savage yet utterly fascinating appearance. Was this the same boy who had eaten at our table and shared our laughter only a few short years ago? The same boy who had taught me to warble like a thrush and coo like a dove? A raw, animal-like power radiated from him, causing my heart to pound with such force I was certain he could hear it. Orin, with his foolish poetry and shy stolen kisses, had never caused my pulse to race so or brought such a warm flush to my cheeks.
A quiet word brought the stallion to within a few feet of where I sat, spellbound. Shadow slid easily to the ground beside me, causing me to tremble, though I could not have said why.
There was just the hint of a twinkle in his eye as he said, gravely, “Did you bring any cookies today, Hannah?”
“N…no,” I stammered, unaccountably pleased by the way he murmured my name.
There was a hint of mischief in his dark-eyed gaze, and a sudden suspicion slid into my mind, prompting me to ask how long he had been watching me.
“Since you first rode up,” he admitted, suppressing a smile, and I blushed with the knowledge that he had seen me swimming in the river, and drying, naked, on the bank afterwards.
“You have grown well,” Shadow remarked casually, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment, for there was no mistaking his meaning or the way his eyes glowed with the memory. And yet, perversely, I was pleased that he had seen me and found me attractive.
“So have you,” I murmured shyly. And indeed he had. The promise of his youth had been fulfilled, and he was tall and strong. Powerful muscles rippled in the sunlight as he stretched out beside me.
“I am called Two Hawks Flying now,” he said proudly, and I knew that he was indeed a full-fledged warrior of the Cheyenne nation. I wondered what he had seen in his vision and what charms he carried in the small medicine pouch he wore around his neck. Pa said such things were foolish and heathen, but I couldn’t see that Shadow’s medicine bag was any different from the crucifix Mrs. Walker wore on a chain around her neck.
“How did you know I’d be here today?” I asked curiously, for I hadn’t been to the river in over a week.
“I did not,” he answered quietly. “I have been coming here every day for a month, hoping to catch you alone.”
Every day for a month, I thought to myself. Imagine that. I was about to ask why, but one look into his dark eyes told me everything I needed to know.
We sat and stared at each other for a long time after that, neither of us able to think of anything to say—content, somehow, just to sit quietly close. All my life I had heard people say, contemptuously, that Indians smelled like shit and rancid grease. Yet Shadow—I never did learn to call him Two Hawks Flying—did not smell the least bit offensive. Rather, he smelled of wood smoke and pine, of trail dust and deerskin.
When I remarked on this, he said that the Indians bathed every day, summer and winter, even when they had to break through ice-bound rivers to do so. He added with a faint grin that the Indians thought white people smelled bad.
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “Do I smell bad to you?”
Shadow shook his head. “No, Hannah. You smell fresh and clean, like a spring day along the river, when all the flowers are in bloom.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. It was the loveliest compliment I had ever received.
Sometime later, Shadow rose gracefully to his feet. He moved with the quick, easy strength of a mountain cat, his actions smooth and sure, and I felt a tingle of excitement just watching him. I knew now what was lacking in my relationship with Josh and Orin. It was the peculiar knot of wanting that made my senses reel and my heart pound like a wild thing. I had never had any real desire to have Josh or Orin hold me or kiss me, but I was suddenly filled with longing for the touch of Shadow’s arms around me and the touch of his lips on mine. My cheeks burned hot with my unladylike thoughts, and I turned away.
A short whistle brought the roan to Shadow’s side, and he swung effortlessly aboard the stud’s bare back.
“Will you be here tomorrow, Hannah?” Shadow asked, and I knew with crystal clarity that my whole future hinged on my reply.
A dozen reasons why I should refuse to meet Shadow ran quickly through my mind. Joshua wouldn’t like it. People would talk if they found out I was secretly meeting an Indian. My reputation would be ruined. He was red and I was white and we were worlds apart. I was practically engaged to another man. Pa wouldn’t approve…
Oh, there were a hundred reasons why I should have said no, but they all seemed shallow and unimportant as Shadow gazed down at me, waiting for my reply.
“I’ll be here,” I said, experiencing a sweet sense of joy and peace as I spoke the words.
I floated in a world all my own the rest of that day. My feet went lightly from task to task, and I couldn’t seem to stop smiling or singing.
That evening Joshua and his family came over to celebrate my birthday. Mother had baked a beautiful cake for the occasion, decorated with pink icing and candles. There was singing and dancing and gaily wrapped presents, but I wasn’t really there. Oh, I danced and flirted with Josh and Orin and made all the proper replies, but all the while I was remembering Shadow and how wonderfully exciting it had been just to sit beside him. His very nearness had made me feel vital and alive, as if I were looking at the world through new eyes.
I remembered how his dark eyes had moved over me from head to heel in a lingering glance that was as
warm and intimate as a caress. I had read the open admiration and desire in that bold stare, and when, at last, the party was over and I was alone in my room, I went to the mirror and took a critical look at myself.
My hair fell in soft waves around my face, and my skin was a smooth golden tan. I had a nice figure—nothing men would rave about, but my breasts were high and firm, and my legs were long and shapely. My waist was trim, my hips well-rounded and not too big. And if my nose was a trifle too small and my mouth a little too wide, well, there was nothing I could do about that.
“Why, I’m pretty,” I mused aloud to my reflection. Or maybe I only felt pretty because of the way Shadow had looked at me.
It seemed the night would never end, and when the first faint gray light bloomed in the east, I was already saddling Nellie. When I reached the river, Shadow was already there, waiting for me. Chill as the morning was, he was clad in just a clout and fringed buckskin leggings, and I knew I had never seen a more handsome, virile man in my life. Heart pounding like a drum, I slid from the saddle and went straight into Shadow’s waiting arms.
“Hannah,” he whispered huskily, and as his strong arms enfolded me, I knew I would never be happy with Josh or Orin or any other man save the tall, dark warrior who held me fast.
“Kiss me,” I begged shamelessly, and when he seemed uncertain, I pulled his head down and pressed my lips to his.
It was like touching a match to gunpowder. I felt the explosions right down to my toes, and when we parted, I saw that Shadow had felt it, too. How can I describe the wondrous feeling that rushed through me, that warm soft glow that started at the innermost core of my being and permeated every fiber of my body and soul? It was a feeling of joy and happiness, of peace and security, and yet it was more than that. It was like…like having your fondest dream become reality, and finding that reality was even sweeter than the dream.
We went for a long walk that day, our hearts and hands touching as we strolled through the verdant countryside. Never had the sky been so blue, the air so sweet. Never had the world seemed quite as wonderful as it did that lovely summer morning.
Reckless Heart Page 4
