She put her arms about his shoulder, understanding better than he thought what he was feeling. They both knew that Tag would have to prove himself worthy as a Blackfoot warrior before he could earn his Indian name.
“Try to have patience, Tag. You will be a man soon enough; then you may wish to be a boy again.”
At that moment they were interrupted by someone’s calling from outside the lodge, asking for admittance. Joanna recognized Gray Fox’s voice, and she walked over to the opening, pushing the flap aside so he could enter.
Gray Fox’s eyes rested on his best friend’s wife for a moment. He felt a strong love for the flaming-haired one, but he could never allow those feelings to show. No one must ever suspect that he loved his best friend’s wife.
“Windhawk has sent me for Tag. He wishes him to come to the river at once. I was told to say there is a surprise waiting for your brother.”
Tag watched Gray Fox’s face expectantly. “What is it? What is the surprise?”
Gray Fox laughed aloud. “Do you remember the horse that you admired from Windhawk’s herd?”
“Do you mean Naveron, the brown stallion with the white face, Gray Fox?”
“Yes, that is the one. Today he becomes your horse…but Windhawk says you must first prove you can ride the animal before he will belong to you.”
Tag beamed. “Can I ride him now?” he asked eagerly.
Gray Fox looked at Joanna’s pale face through lowered eyelashes. He knew her well enough to know she was fighting within herself. She feared for her brother’s safety, but she was learning to let him go. One of the many things Gray Fox admired about his chief’s woman was her spirit. If Joanna could be convinced that something was right, she would give in easily. But on the other hand, if she believed in something, she would make a stand and fight valiantly to the bitter end.
“Come, Tag, I will walk you to the river,” Gray Fox said.
Tag looked to Joanna for her permission. He watched as she lowered her eyes.
“I…will stay here and have the evening meal ready when you and Windhawk return, Tag,” was all she could manage to say.
Gray Fox knew that she couldn’t bring herself to watch her brother ride the wild horse. “There will be many who will see to your brother’s safety,” he told her, trying to give her comfort.
Gray Fox’s admiration for her intensified as he watched her push the fear for her brother’s safety aside so he could do what was expected of him.
Joanna nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak.
A crowd had gathered on the riverbank to watch Tag break his first horse. The wild stallion was led into the water while Tag rode up beside it on another horse. Windhawk held the horse’s head and nodded to Tag to jump onto the animal’s back.
Many times Tag had seen the fierce Blackfoot warriors break wild horses. He had always hoped one day to get his chance to prove that he was unafraid, but he was discovering it had been one thing to feel brave while watching from the riverbank, and it was quite another to be on the back of this wild stallion, which would want nothing less than to throw him off.
Tag could feel fear gnawing at his insides as the wild horse pitched its head and rolled its eyes. With stubborn determination, he pushed his fear aside and leaped onto the animal’s back.
Immediately, the wild horse reared on his hind legs—he began spinning and thrashing about with hooves flying, trying to rid himself of the rider on his back. Tag felt his legs tremble from the pressure he was applying to the sides of the heaving animal. His muscles were tense and strained to the limit, but he was determined that he would not be shamed in front of the whole tribe. He would ride this horse!
Joanna could no longer stand to remain in the lodge wondering what was taking place at the river. She knew that she couldn’t go to the river and watch Tag, so she decided to go for a ride instead.
Fosset raced down the wide valley, and Joanna felt the wind cooling her face. Riding to the top of a small hill, she dismounted and gazed into the distance.
Joanna couldn’t stop worrying about Tag. She knew if she had shown her fear it would have shamed Tag in front of the others, so she had allowed him to go, even though in her mind she could see him being thrown by the wild animal and trampled beneath its hooves.
Sighing inwardly, she gathered up Fosset’s reins and led him down the hillside. When she reached the bottom of the hill, she paused beside a bubbling pool that was fed by the Milk River and gazed down into the crystal-clear depths.
After allowing Fosset to drink from the cool water, Joanna sat down on the bank and lost herself in thought. She was vaguely aware that Fosset wandered at will, grazing on the sweet green grass along the hillside.
Usually, spring came late to the Blackfoot country, but Joanna noticed that the wildflowers were now in full bloom. The delicate blossoms of the wild columbine reminded her of nature’s perfection, while the bright yellow buttercups seemed to bow their heads in the gentle breeze.
She glanced down into the pool and saw the distant mountains reflected in the mirror-bright depths. How beautiful it was here! The land somehow seemed so untouched by the hand of man. She allowed her hand to trail in the water, and when the ripples settled she saw her own reflection. Windhawk always told her that she was beautiful, but Joanna couldn’t judge her own looks. The face that stared back at her was pretty enough, she supposed, but she thought her violet-colored eyes were too large for her face. The features were delicate and soft, but her chin was too stubborn, she reasoned. Her red-gold hair hung almost to her waist and was encircled with a plain leather headband.
Suddenly, another reflection appeared from behind Joanna. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t heard anyone come up behind her. The Indian who towered above her smiled, and she could feel her heartbeat accelerate. The man in the reflection was extremely tall, and his face was more than handsome. He wore only a leather breechcloth, and she could see the muscles that rippled across his arms and chest. His skin was deeply bronzed, and even in the reflection Joanna could see that his dark, expressive eyes were velvet-soft. Her eyes sought his in the shimmering-bright water, and he could read the unasked question on her face.
“He is fine. You would have been proud of your brother today. He showed very little fear when he mastered the wild horse.”
Joanna felt overwhelming relief—she had been so sure Tag would be injured by the untamed horse.
Feeling the touch of the Indian’s hand on her shoulder, she turned to smile up at him.
“Windhawk, how did you find me?”
He held out his hand, and when Joanna placed her hand in his, he pulled her to her feet to stand beside him.
“I will always find you, Joanna,” he said in a deep voice. He reached up his hands and cupped her beautiful face between them. At times, it was still hard for him to realize that the hauntingly beautiful flaming-haired one belonged to him. He had loved Joanna from the first moment he had seen her, and he had known that they would one day be as one, even though it had been hard to convince her that they were destined to walk together.
Her laughter seemed to bubble out, and the sound of it gladdened his heart, as it always had. “I will always make it easy for you to find me, my husband.”
Clasping her slender body close to him, Windhawk rested his face against hers. “Stay with me forever, Joanna, and I will love you as no other man ever could.”
Joanna could feel his warm breath fan her cheek, and she felt a hunger deep inside. She had heard the uncertainty in his voice and knew he was remembering the time she had run away from him. How long would it take to erase his doubts? When would she be able to convince him that she would never again leave him?
Joanna kissed his cheek. “If one day you were to tire of me and cast me aside, I would still beg you to allow me to stay.”
With gentle pressure, he raised her face and looked deeply into her violet-colored eyes. “The day I tire of you will be the day when the sun grows cold; the
day I will no longer want you will be the day I close my eyes in death. I think I will desire you even then.”
Joanna could see the flames burning in the depth of his dark eyes. It was a bit frightening at times to love and be loved so deeply. Suppose the gods were to become envious of their happiness and rip them apart?
Windhawk swept Joanna into his arms and carried her up the hill to a spot where they would not be seen by anyone who might come to the pool. He laid her down among the wildflowers beneath a tall pine tree.
No words were spoken as he sat down beside her and moved his hand up her arm, allowing it to trail across her breasts. His dark eyes held an expression of love when he gazed into her violet eyes. Joanna drew in her breath as his hands drifted to her hips and he began to push her gown slowly upward.
She tugged playfully at his hair and he arched a dark eyebrow. “Imagine me loving a man whose hair is more beautiful than mine,” she teased.
“I can imagine nothing more beautiful than the sun shining on your hair, Joanna,” he said, raising a fiery lock to his lips. “I have often wondered how your hair can grow in…spirals. When I first saw you, I wondered if you did something to make your hair…” he paused, not knowing how to describe the curls. Wrapping a soft curl about his finger, he gave her an inquiring look.
“In English it is called curly hair,” she told him.
“Joanna, there is nothing so beautiful as your flaming hair, unless it is your eyes. Sometimes, when I look into your eyes, I feel as if I am drowning.”
She touched his lips, and he kissed her fingers one by one. “I think you like my eyes only because they are different from all the Indian maidens you are accustomed to. Had I been born with brown eyes, I doubt that you would have paid the slightest attention to me the day we met.”
He leaned forward and kissed each of her eyelids. “That cannot be, Joanna. I have never told you this, but the second time I saw you, I was startled when I could see my own reflection in your eyes. I knew that day that I wanted no man’s image but mine to ever be reflected in your eyes.”
She smiled sweetly and pulled his head down to rest against her breasts. “I was frightened of you that day. Not because I thought you would harm me, but because I had never before felt so funny inside when a man looked at me.”
Windhawk raised his head, and Joanna saw his eyes were shining brightly. “Did you love me even then, Joanna?”
“Oh, yes, my dearest love. I loved you even then,” she whispered.
Windhawk pulled her forward and smoothly removed her doeskin gown. Shortly thereafter, her undergarments followed. His eyes moved over her naked body, and he drew in his breath at how perfect she was. Her legs were long and shapely—her hips were well-rounded, and her waist was tiny. Her breasts were firm, with tiny rose tips. His body trembled with anticipation as she raised her arms to him.
Windhawk stripped off his breechcloth and pulled her tightly against him.
Joanna shuddered in delight when his lips caressed her, as he breathed her name over and over. Her fingers laced in his ebony hair, then moved slowly down his shoulder to the corded muscles she felt across his back.
Windhawk’s hard flesh fused to Joanna’s silken skin, and a sweet longing took over her reasoning. She was more than ready to receive the thrust of his virility. And his body trembled with hunger as he felt the soft, silken sheath of Joanna’s inner core.
As they made love beneath the pine tree, Joanna thought the birds had never sung so sweetly. No bed of satin could be as soft as the grass they lay upon. No room in the grandest palace could rival the canopy of bright blue sky above them. Not even the most expensive French perfume could match the scent of the hundreds of wildflowers that were in bloom.
The kiss of the soft, gentle breeze cooled their overheated bodies. As Windhawk whispered words of his undying love in Joanna’s ear, she was carried away by his passion. Her desire was boundless as he drove his throbbing manhood into her body again and again.
Joanna’s heart soared on wings of love as her husband reintroduced her to the world of beauty and love that the two of them always found in each other’s arms. She knew that their love was the deep and lasting kind. Neither time nor distance could ever erase their feelings for each other. From the day they had first met, both Windhawk and Joanna had felt a oneness, as if they had always known each other. At first, it had been an unsettling feeling to Joanna, but she had finally come to accept it.
Joanna closed her eyes, feeling so close to Windhawk that it was almost as if she were an extension of his body. She wondered how they could have been born worlds apart and still be so right for each other.
A sweetness burned deep inside her. It was like pain, and yet beyond pain…a raging, sensuous feeling that seemed to rob her of her reasoning power. Windhawk had the ability to make her whole body feel as though it was burning with a slow, warm, lingering fire. She heard him murmuring her name softly, and her body answered his in total satisfaction.
The smile he gave her melted her heart when she curled up in his arms. They both watched the branches of the pine tree overhead swaying gently with the breeze.
“I am so happy, Windhawk,” she said, moving her lips across his cheek. “If it is possible for one to obtain total happiness, I have done so.”
Closing his eyes, he clasped her tightly against him. “If I have the power, I will see that you never know an unhappy day, Joanna.” He picked up the bear-claw necklace which she always wore about her neck. He had given it to her the night he had made her his wife.
Joanna saw him frown and knew instinctively that his thoughts were troubled. She realized he was again remembering when she had left him and wished she knew how to erase all his doubts.
“If I ever leave you again, Windhawk, you will know I no longer want to be with you. But that will never happen. You should know by now that I will always love you.”
She noticed when she looked into his dark eyes that they still held a hint of doubt. “You gave up so much to stay with me, Joanna. Perhaps the time will come when you will regret leaving behind the world you knew.”
“I left nothing behind, Windhawk. All I will ever want can be found right here in your arms.”
“Joanna, if you ever do leave me again, it would be far kinder if you would first take my life. I have this weakness that you have brought into my heart. Before I met you, I feared nothing…now I fear the loss of your love more than I fear death itself.”
Joanna held him to her, wishing she could erase all his doubts. “Windhawk, my joy is in bringing you happiness. Will you still doubt me when my back is stooped with age and my hair is as white as She Who Heals, the old medicine woman?”
He chuckled and held her close to him. “You sorely tempt me to wait around to watch as your glorious hair changes and fades in color.”
She rested her face against his smooth chest. “If God, in his generosity, grants me the time, I will grow old with you, my dearest, dearest love,” she told him.
“You have but to hold my hand, Joanna. Together, we will walk this land and find a happiness that has been denied to many.”
“I am happy, Windhawk.”
He crushed her in his arms, knowing that he wished for nothing more in life than to keep her happy. “If you are happy, then I feel joy, Joanna. When you smile, my heart is gladdened. Help me to know you will not ever leave me.”
She pulled back and framed his face with her hands, smiling slightly. “You will never be rid of me, Windhawk. Never!”
He could feel the softness of her skin and it brought a pain to his heart. “I will never want you to be anyplace that I cannot reach out and touch you,” he told her.
Chapter Three
It was early August. There had been very little rain and the grasses of the prairie were brown and brittle. The hot wind did little to cool the burning heat of the sun, which beat down on the large group of Blackfoot people, who were riding in a southwestern direction.
The people of the B
lood Blackfoot tribe were moving to their summer village on the vast prairies, following the trail of the buffalo. It was a ritual that had taken place for many hundreds of years. In fact, Sun Woman, Windhawk’s mother, had told Joanna that in the years before the first white man had brought horses to this country the Blackfoot had followed the restless buffalo trail on foot.
They had been traveling for over a week now, leaving behind the tall mountains and the lush, green valleys of the winter camp. Every once in a while Joanna’s eyes would search the distant foothills, and she would wish they were traveling in those mountains so she could find some relief from the grueling, punishing heat. She felt the heat more than the Indians did, and she wondered if she would ever become accustomed to this nomadic life they led.
Her heart swelled with love for this land. Once she had walked here as an intruder and a stranger, wanting nothing more than to return to the world as she had known it. Now she felt she had earned the right to be a part of this land, because she was Windhawk’s woman.
She drew rein to slow Fosset’s pace, then gazed sideways at Sun Woman. A smile curved Joanna’s lips and was returned by the older woman.
“You seem to be happy today, my daughter. I believe you bloom like the wildflowers.”
Joanna didn’t answer right away, but instead studied Sun Woman’s face. Windhawk’s mother was still a very attractive woman. Her iron-gray hair was pulled back and bound with a leather strap. She was taller than Joanna, and she always carried herself straight and proud. The Blackfoot people admired and respected Sun Woman. She was a powerful influence on her people. There had been a time when Sun Woman had resented Joanna, but that was before Joanna had proven to the older woman that she was worthy of her friendship and of her son’s love. It was often Sun Woman’s way to be stern and withdrawn, but Joanna knew that inside she was a very loving woman, and Joanna had come to love her a great deal.
“If I seem to bloom, it is because I am so happy, my mother. My days are filled with useful tasks, and I was just thinking that I am a true Blackfoot now.”
Savage Winter Page 2
