Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Janelle Taylor

  For a short while, Wind Dancer and Red Feather left to conceal the gunpowder, weapons, and matches in a safe location in the event they had surprise visitors, especially Bluecoats or Crow.

  Wind Dancer and Chumani had yearned for privacy and rapturous contact for many days, and at last they had it. She sealed their tepee flap and they eagerly stripped off their garments. He embraced her and she savored the feeling of his warm flesh against her own. When he kissed her, she nearly purred with satisfaction, and the sound of her pleasure made him smile. As they kissed and stroked each other, they learned ever more about nurturing the passion that was always present in their joinings. Chumani hoped it would always be so.

  Shafts of moonlight played over her face from the ventilation opening above them and revealed her beautiful features for him to enjoy. She was awesome magic, and he was a willing captive to her spell, as she was to his. When she arched against him, her hands clutched at his shouders, and she moaned in bliss, he surrendered to his own release.

  They kissed and caressed even after their journey was completed; then they cuddled with her back pressed against the front of his body. Soon, they drifted off to sleep, sated and serene.

  Shortly after dawn, Wind Dancer, Red Feather, and War Eagle joined the next group's hunt for buffalo to help with that seasonal task before they left to carry out another raid on either the Crow or Whites. Chumani and Zitkala went along with the women's party to skin and butcher the slain creatures, taking their travois with them for young braves to use for hauling those parts back to camp to their families and others who would begin the meat-drying and tanning processes. As customary, the men left first and the women trailed behind them, watching and waiting and chatting until their arduous work began. Both groups were filled with exhilaration and suspense, as the hunt was such an important part of their lives-the main source of their shelter, clothing, food, and items for daily use.

  As the women topped a hill, Chumani saw the vast herd stretched out before them as if it went on forever, the lush grass obscured in many places by dense clusters of dark bodies. Although the animals appeared slow in mind and speed, she knew they were smart and swift and agile. She saw the hunters, including her loved ones and friends, plunge into the midst of the outer fringes and fire their arrows at close range, aiming for spots where the creatures were most vulnerable. The warriors felled many buffaloes quickly and mercifully in a short time, their horses working in deft unison with their owners, though they would not slay more than they could use. Some of the animals scattered; others continued grazing as if no threat existed, and some lay in wallows undisturbed by action, especially old males.

  Chumani and the other women spread out and began work on the huge carcasses, after seeking and finding the first one with her husband's marked arrows embedded in its body. Using sharp knives, she and Zitkala skinned the animal-its hide to supply many needs-and gutted it. They carved out the selected hunks of meat and placed them on the hide. They collected the horns, hooves, and certain bones to use for cups, spoons, knives, and glue. The tongue, liver, and tail were removed. The stomach and bladder were cut out to become water bags. The task was a long, and a bloody one. They saw air and land scavengers looming overhead and lurking at a short distance to await their turns at the kill, which would complete the buffalo's circle-of-life and purpose for creation.

  They secured the large bundle with sturdy thongs, signaled a brave with an empty travois it was ready for removal, and headed toward their next target after helping him load it and watching his departure for camp.

  As they labored on their second beast, Chumani heard the awesome sounds of the wasicuns'firesticks and saw a large band of Crow warriors charging toward the left side of the giant herd. Her gaze widened in horror as she realized an attack was imminent. The grazing buffaloes halted their feast; those in wallows bounded to their feet swiftly; the males gathered around the females and calves; and the cows nudged their babies closer to them. The leading bulls assumed stances of intimidation to warn off the encroachers. Soon they realized they were being challenged to a fight.

  Chumani saw the massive heads of the male buffaloes jerk upward and thrash about, as prelude to their bellows of rage. Some pawed the ground in warning. Their skinny tails shot upward and arched over at the fuzzy tips before straightening. Then the enormous and infuriated animals began to run, their hooves striking the earth in a thunderous noise. At most times, the beasts would rush past anyone-or anythingin its path without inflicting harm. But when they were provoked to such panic and crowded close together, they would trample any intruder. Antelope and scavenging coyotes fled toward safety, as did birds, insects, and rabbits. Prairie dogs scurried into their burrows, their barks masked by pounding hooves. Chumani's frantic gaze searched for her husband and saw him racing toward the commotion. She realized he was challenging their foes to cease their provocation. She wanted to keep her eyes on him, but knew the best thing she and Zitkala could do was crouch behind the carcass they had been working on. They would hope and pray the stampeding herd heading for them evaded them.

  As the Oglala and Brule hunters sought to turn the herd from where the women worked, they tried to avoid the beasts' sharp horns and head rammings. They knew that the rumbling force would continue to race over hills and flat areas in a direct line with their joint encampment.

  Wind Dancer saw Raven's horse trip and fall, then lie still, no doubt with a broken neck. With several Crow bearing down on the vulnerable warrior, one of their four Sacred Bow Carriers, he had no choice except to attempt a rescue. His code of honor as a warrior and a friend and his ranks of Shirt Wearer and Strong Heart member demanded he do so. He galloped toward the man who now stood facing his oncoming threat, a hunting bow and a few remaining arrows his only weapons, as his Sacred Bow was used only during warfare and rituals and was safe in camp.

  As Wind Dancer almost reached the downed man, he shouted for Raven to be ready to leap up behind him, a rescue action all Oglala warriors practiced frequently. He held his bow and tether in one hand and extended the other for his friend to seize in a hurry so Raven could swing up behind him and they could flee their enemies fast. He was stunned when the Crow attackers fired many arrows and slew his beloved buffalo horse. The dead animal toppled to the ground and sent Wind Dancer tumbling into the tall and thick grass, knocking the air from his lungs and the bow from his grasp. Before he could recover, he was shocked again when-by order of their leader-three Birdmen took the life of Raven in a cowardly manner.

  As he leapt to his feet and struggled to breathe, Wind Dancer found himself encircled by Apsaalooke wearing warpaint and fierce glares. He knew it was foolish to grab for the knife in his sheath, as two foes had arrows pointing at him and would send their tips into his hand, he could not risk a disabling injury to it. He straightened himself to his full height and assumed a spread-legged stance of defiance and confidence. His chest was extended to reveal his scorn and courage, as did his expression. His ebony hair whipped about in the wind and his dark gaze locked on the band's grinning leader as he awaited his own death.

  Wind Dancer was not afraid to die; he would do so with honor and courage. He would complete his Life-Circle with a generous sacrifice, even though Raven was dead. He firmly believed that if his journey upon the face of Mother Earth ended this day, it would be the will of Wakantanka and there would be a purpose for his death which only the Great Mystery knew. The only regrets he had were leaving his family and people to battle their enemies without his aid and being taken from the arms of his beloved wife who would grieve terribly over his loss and be compelled to achieve the sacred visionquest alone or with other companions. He dared not let his attention stray by glancing toward the hill behind him, but he was sure Chumani was watching this grim event, as he sensed her powerful gaze and could almost hear her words of love and encouragement inside his head as a soft whisper. The thunderous noise of countless hooves told him the stampede was still in progress, and he knew his wife and others w
ere in the path of those enraged buffaloes while he was unable to rescue her and help the other hunters turn the massive herd away from their camp. Surrounded by twelve foes who were armed and on horseback while he was afoot and near weaponless, all he could do now was pray for the panicked animals to calm soon, slow down, and change direction.

  "You do not beg for your life, first son of Rising Bear?"

  Wind Dancer did not show his surprise when the leader revealed he knew his identity or spoke in the Oglala tongue. He stared at the man in contempt as he replied in his enemy's language, "That is not our way, Crow dog, though it is yours when you face a superior force. Do the Apsaalooke have so few coups and crave them so badly they attack others without any show of honor? What coup lies in slaying a disabled and entrapped man, as you did to my friend? What coup lies in slaying one of the Great Spirit's creatures, as you did to my horse? Did you stain your face with such evil and cowardice to prevent Wind Dancer and Raven from fleeing you to battle you on another sun?" He knew from the man's narrowed gaze and lift of his shoulders that he had provoked him to anger. He knew his best chance for survival was in working on the leader's excessive pride.

  "The one who lies dead was of no value to us, but the next chief of the Red Shields will feel the pains of our hatred and revenge. You will die as slowly as the porcupine crawls. You will suffer and bleed as no other captive ever has. We will find great joy and victory in slaying Waci Tate."

  "The son of Rising Bear does not die quickly or easily, Crow dog."

  "I hope your words are true, but die you will, and long after you crave to walk the Ghost Trail to end your sufferings and shame of defeat to me."

  "I challenge you to fight me to my death or to my freedom. Dismount and we will learn who is the better warrior. I die or I go free."

  "I do not accept your challenge to fight here," the Crow leader sneered, "for many others must watch and enjoy that event."

  Confident he could win a fight, Wind Dancer tried to trick his truculent foe by ridiculing him. "Does your heart pound with such fear and are your skills so few that you do not wish to face me man to man?" he asked. "Do you need the help or encouragement of others to defeat only one opponent? Is it not also the Apsaalooke way to allow a brave warrior to earn his freedom?"

  "Not when that captive is a large enemy of my people. I will show great strength and wits in not battling you at this place and time. I will show great generosity in allowing my people to see you die."

  "Will you battle me one-to-one in your camp," Wind Dancer taunted, or will you need the help of others when you confront me?"

  "Sroka needs help from no friend or spirit to defeat a weakling Sioux."

  Wind Dancer glared at the pugnacious man whose face was painted red and bore solid black circles to signify blood and death. He had recognized Sroka, but had behaved as if the malevolent warrior was not important enough to be recalled or feared by him. Their bands had clashed during past raids and fought during tribal battles. He surmised the Crow had named him a "Sioux," a white man's word for the threefold Dakota Nation, as friend and foe were aware it was an insult. "Crow dog, you walk and sniff behind the wasicun so much to beg for his truce like a bone that you speak as he does. Have you forgotten your people's name for us, Da-kkoo-tee?"

  "I have forgotten nothing, Waci Tate, who is now my prisoner."

  "Why do you attack while we hunt the buffalo?" Wind Dancer asked to glean helpful information. "This is not the season to fight."

  "If your people have no food or shelter or garments for winter, they will starve and freeze and die. There will be fewer Da-kkoo-tee to battle in the coming seasons, and soon this land will be ours as it was long ago."

  "If you sacrifice your suns and moons attacking us during the hot season and do not use them preparing for winter, your people will die. That is foolish, Sroka, and it is not the Indian way."

  "No more talk. Mount behind Pariskatoopa and give him your knife. We ride for our camp and your death. Do you fear to face it?"

  Wind Dancer grinned. "I do not fear death, for it is a sacred part of every man's Life-Circle. I am eager to fight you." He decided it was best to cooperate at that point, for it would call away at least twelve enemies from the band still harassing his people and it would keep him alive to plot and carry out an escape. He relinquished his weapon, swung up behind Two Crows as indicated, and said, "I am ready."

  "Alaxiia Bilee, gather their weapons and take the medicine bundle and a scalplock of the fallen one to hang in my lodge. Soon I will show all I have won the weapons and life of Waci Tate of the Oglalas."

  As Fire-in-Heart obeyed Sroka's orders, the leader told his other men to ride on either side and behind Wind Dancer and to wound him with lance cuts if he tried to escape or to slow them down. He signaled for the rest of his band to abandon their strike on the hunting party and to follow them.

  As they galloped away, Wind Dancer took a breath of relief to know the enemy threat was over and the herd was quieting down. He realized they would be long gone before a band of his warriors could arm themselves, mount up, and pursue them. Yet, surely his father, despite his anguish, would not allow an attack on a large and powerful Crow camp to attempt to rescue him. Surely they would leave any escape plan up to him.

  Her spirits low and her heart pounding in dread as she lay atop a knoll to avoid being sighted, Chumani watched her beloved husband being carried away from her by a malicious foe, no doubt to face torture and death. The large Crow party had broken off their attack and those enemies now raced after the smaller band after being summoned by Sroka, whose face pattern she also recognized. The charging herd had been averted and now moved off in the distance, and their hunters were returning. They and the women who had taken cover behind a hill with Zitkala were safe. With the buffalo heading in the opposite direction, the camp was safe, and by now might have been alerted to their peril by one of the young braves with travois duty. Everyone was out of danger except the man who was her life, her true love. Yet, as long as he was alive, there was a slim chance of him escaping or being rescued.

  Red Feather, War Eagle, and Fire Walker joined her at the base of the high knoll after she stood and signaled to them. "Why do you smile on such a dark sun?" she asked as the mounted men gazed at her.

  War Eagle, like his companions, looked at her in confusion. "We have saved our camp from the buffalo and our hunting party from the Crow. We are all unharmed."

  "But you have lost a brother and a good friend, Wanbli."

  The three warriors looked over their shoulders, but all they viewed were the bodies of buffaloes in various stages of butchering and a few abandoned travois where they had been hunting and the women working earlier. They did not sight Wind Dancer among the men who were checking on the women for injuries and calming them.

  "Follow me up the hill," Chumani almost commanded them and headed to the top in a hurry. On its peak, she motioned toward the grim scene beyond it where the slain Raven and two dead horses lay upon the grass, multiple arrows protruding from their bodies.

  Red Feather, his heart thudding in trepidation and his gaze wide, spoke before the others could. "Where is my friend, my spirit brother?" he asked as Zitkala joined them and also stared at the solemn sight.

  Chumani related the grim tale and saw the men's shocked reaction to Wind Dancer's entrapment and the mention of Sroka's name. "I remained here and watched," she continued, "for I had no bow and arrows to use. I could not run to help him, for there were twelve warriors in Sroka's party. I could not hear their words, but they spoke for a time, then took him away." She related how Raven and her husband's horse had been slain without just cause, as if from sheer evil. She revealed the theft of their possessions and the taking of a scalplock from Raven. "Sroka knows the face and rank of Waci Tate and wishes to walk my beloved amongst his people in bonds before he tortures and slays him for all there to see. Raven's body must be recovered and placed on a scaffold. We must prepare ourselves to go after my husband, but we
cannot go as a large band, for that is what they will expect us to do. All must stay and guard our camp except for the five of us; we will save him and bring him back to his people."

  "How can we do so, my sister, when he will be held in the center of their village, and he and their camp will be guarded against our approach?"

  Chumani looked at Fire Walker, her heart full of anguish and her mind with worry. "The Great Spirit has put a plan within my head, and I will share it with all of you later. If you must stay in camp to protect your wife, unborn child, and our parents, that will not show weakness on your part. You are the future chief of the White Shields, my beloved brother, and must live to become their leader."

  "We have many skilled warriors amongst our two bands who can protect our loved ones and people," Fire Walker said firmly. "I must help save the life of the future chief of the Red Shields who is our ally and friend, and my sister's mate. We will be victorious, for it is not his time to walk the Ghost Trail, as he is the Vision Man; and the task given to you and him has not been completed."

  "That is true, my brother, and it is why I know we must do this deed."

  They heard riders approaching and looked in that direction to sight a large band of their warriors with Rising Bear at their lead. They went to join him and related the bad news of his son's capture and Raven's vile slaying.

  Chumani wasted no time in disclosing a daring rescue plan to the Red Shield chief, who listened, considered it, and nodded agreement. She perceived how tormented the older man was with the grim events. "Do not worry, my second father," she said gently, "for we will save him."

  "I will pray for the Great Spirit to guide and protect you, my second daughter. I trust your skills and wits, for Wakantanka chose you as the Vision Woman and my son's mate. You have proven yourself worthy of both ranks. But if it is the will of our Creator for my son to join Him and the risks are too great to challenge, do not endanger your life."