Joanna took Morning Song’s knife and began to cut thin strips off the buffalo robe. When that was accomplished, she attached the knife to the end of a long pole and secured it with the buffalo strips. She was pleased with her makeshift spear. Testing it for sturdiness, she found it to be strong.
Carrying her new weapon, she walked out of the cave, knowing she must find food for Morning Song or she would die.
For hours, Joanna walked about in the snow looking for any sign of animal tracks. Once she spotted a deer, but she knew she would never be able to bring it down with such a primitive weapon.
After a while, when she was ready to admit defeat, she saw the tracks of a small rabbit. As silently as possible, she followed the tracks. After about a hundred yards, she spotted a small cottontail camouflaged against a small snowdrift. Joanna froze, fearing she would frighten the animal away. Slowly she moved her arm backward and aimed the spear. She held her breath as the spear sailed through the air, and to her surprise and delight saw she had hit the target. The cottontail leaped into the air and fell dead!
Joanna was so happy, tears of joy sparkled in her eyes. She shouted, and her voice echoed and reechoed through the mountains. Picking up her kill, she rushed happily back to the cave.
After she had cleaned and gutted the animal, Joanna took the knife and cut a sharp stick for a skewer to roast the meat. Placing it over the fire, her mouth watered as she smelled the delicious aroma of the cooking rabbit. She had no idea if the smell would attract wild animals, and she didn’t much care at the moment. All that mattered was that she and Morning Song would have meat to eat tonight. Joanna was proud of her accomplishments, and she knew that two short years ago she would not have had the knowledge or skill to survive one day in the wilderness. She reflected on many things as she watched the dying rays of the sun cast a rosy glow over the falling snow. She knew if she did make it home alive, she would never be the same girl again.
Morning Song was dreaming. In her dream, she smelled meat cooking. Opening her eyes, she sat up slowly, waiting for her vision to clear. It was no dream…she hadn’t imagined it—she did smell meat!
Joanna placed more wood on the fire and smiled at the young girl. “How is your appetite?”
“How did you…how is it possible…?”
“With wit and cunning,” Joanna laughed, walking over to Morning Song and helping her to her feet. She then led her over to the warm fire and spread the buffalo robe for them to sit on.
Both girls sat by the fire, waiting for the rabbit to cook. When Joanna began removing the meat from the spit, they were both almost ecstatic in anticipation.
“How did you ever get the rabbit?” Morning Song asked, watching the juice drip from the meat to spatter on the fire.
“It wasn’t so difficult. I had the help of Napi and God.”
Joanna handed Morning Song a slice of meat, and the young girl didn’t wait until it cooled to tear into it. The delicious juices ran down her chin, and she closed her eyes, savoring each mouthful.
Joanna bit into the succulent meat, thinking she had never tasted anything as good. “What more could we want at the moment, Morning Song? We have a warm place to sleep, food, and good company.”
“A horse would be nice,” Morning Song laughed, licking her fingers.
When they had satisfied their hunger, Joanna took the remainder of the rabbit and buried it in the deep snow just outside the cave, thinking to preserve it until the next day.
It was dark now, and the two girls sat staring into the warm flames. The snow fell heavily outside the cave, but inside the girls were warm and almost happy.
“It is easy to have a brighter outlook when one has a full stomach,” Joanna observed.
They decided that they would take turns tending the fire. Morning Song insisted, since she had already slept and Joanna had killed and cooked the meal, that she would take the first watch.
Joanna laid down on the buffalo robe, wondering if some wild animal had been attracted by the smell of the cooking meat. There was always the possibility that some enemy tribe would see their campfire and come to investigate, she supposed, closing her eyes. She could hear the wind howling outside the cave, and the snowstorm had turned into a blizzard, but she didn’t care.
We are going to come out of this alive, Windhawk, she thought just before she drifted off.
Morning Song sat by the fire watching the snowflakes swirl past the mouth of the cave. She had always loved Joanna, but now she felt closer to her than anyone else. Together, the two of them had struggled against impossible odds and, if Napi was kind, she was now sure they would make it out of these mountains alive!
The people of the Cree tribe had not yet recovered from the revenge Windhawk and his Blackfoot warriors had rained down upon them. Their village had been moved, and many sentries now manned the, nearby hillsides, alert in case Windhawk should take it into his head to swoop down upon them again.
Horse Runner had called a council meeting to determine what would be done about his son and Big Hand.
The lodge was smoke-filled as all the most prominent chiefs passed the medicine pipe around and spoke in hushed tones.
“I say we turn Stalking Wolf and Big Hand over to the Blackfoot,” one of the chiefs stated.
“No, whatever they have done, they are still Cree,” Horse Runner said, getting to his feet. “Would you ask us to betray our own?”
“They have brought Windhawk’s wrath down upon us, and who can say that the Blackfoot will not come at us again,” another spoke up.
Horse Runner nodded his head. “Should we punish our young braves when they raid our enemies? I say we should banish them from the tribe until they bring me the scalp of the chief of the Bloods—Windhawk!”
Horse Runner’s announcement hung in the air as each man looked to him for guidance. A sudden gust of wind hammered at the tipi, and there was fear in many of the faces of the men present.
“You cannot kill Windhawk,” one of the men said. “He is as the morning mist that disappears before the afternoon sun. No one can harm him. I say if you send these two young braves to slay him, he will return and kill us all.” There were many who nodded their heads in agreement.
Horse Runner held up his hand for silence. “I say to you, Windhawk is but a man. Did he not speak to me? Did I not hear his voice when he talked to me? Are you all old women who quake in the face of danger? I say we are of the Cree tribe, and our fathers and grandfathers before us call out to avenge our honor!”
There was a great murmuring and shaking of heads until, at last, everyone agreed that Horse Runner spoke wisely. The chief felt sadness in his heart as he sent for his son, Stalking Wolf, and his friend, Big Hand.
When the two young warriors stood before their chief awaiting his judgment, they looked at each other in fear, not knowing what to expect.
“This council has made a decision,” Horse Runner said, looking grimly at his son. “You, Stalking Wolf, and you, Big Hand, will be banished from the village.”
Stalking Wolf looked at his father. He had expected to be severely punished, but not to be banished. His shame was great as he looked into the troubled eyes of his friend, Big Hand.
“What is the length of the banishment, my father?” Stalking Wolf asked.
Horse Runner pushed the armband of Stalking Wolf’s dead brother into his hand. “You will not come back until the day you can bring this to me and tell me you have killed Windhawk! The day I see you again let the Blood chief’s scalp be hanging from your lance!”
Stalking Wolf’s eyes widened in fright. He had no wish to face Windhawk. No man could come up against the chief of the Bloods and live. He looked for a softening in his father’s eyes, but saw only determination.
“It will be as you say, my father. We will not return until we have slain…Windhawk!”
The two young warriors left the council lodge, knowing they would never see their people again. They knew in their hearts that no one could kill Windhawk.
Horse Runner watched his son mount his horse and ride slowly out of the village, feeling as if he had looked upon his face for the last time. There was sadness in his heart, but there was also a burning need for revenge against the young chief of the Blood Blackfoot!
Chapter Eighteen
Joanna awoke and, to her surprise, found she had slept straight through the night without waking. Sitting up, she looked about the cave to discover that Morning Song was nowhere to be seen.
She stood up and walked over to place more wood on the fire, wondering where Morning Song could be. As she walked outside, she noticed it was still snowing, but she was grateful that the wind had died down. The large flakes drifted lazily down to the ground, painting the land into a beautiful, wintery-white wonderland.
Glancing down the rocky slope, she smiled when she saw Morning Song waving up to her. She stomped the snow from her moccasins while she waited for the young girl to climb up to her.
“You should have awakened me last night. I did not expect you to stay up all night tending the fire. I thought we had an agreement that we would take turns,” Joanna said, in a mildly reproving voice.
“I knew you needed the rest, and I was not tired. As you know, I slept yesterday afternoon. We have to start taking better care of you and the baby. You provided the meal yesterday, so I am providing it this morning,” Morning Song told her, dangling some sort of unappetizing-looking roots in front of her face.
“What have you got there?” Joanna asked with interest, noticing that Morning Song was carrying something else in her pouch.
“It is not as good or as exciting as the rabbit you prepared last night, but it will be filling, and we can save the rabbit for later when we start down the mountain. I have nuts, berries, and roots.”
Joanna wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I suppose we should be grateful for anything we find to eat. I wonder if one could survive very long without meat?”
“Indeed one can,” Morning Song told her. “I once knew a medicine man who never ate meat. He had a vision when he was a young boy and, in that vision, he was told only to eat roots and berries…I suppose it finally killed him, though,” Morning Song said, with a twinkle in her eyes.
“At what age did the medicine man die?” Joanna asked, rising to the bait.
Morning Song’s laughter peeled out. “He died in his eightieth summer.”
Joanna yanked playfully at Morning Song’s hair. “I can see much of your brother in you. You are going to be a trial for some unsuspecting man one day.”
Morning Song giggled. “Like my brother is a trial to you, Joanna?”
Joanna smiled. “Yes, like your brother has been a trial to me.”
The girls made their way into the cave and sat beside the fire, warming themselves.
“What should we do?” Joanna asked, chewing on the root that Morning Song handed her and finding if didn’t taste at all good. “If we stay here, we are protected from the cold, but we could starve to death, or be prey for wild animals, or even an enemy tribe.”
Morning Song’s eyes traveled outside, watching the swirling snow falling to earth. “It is but the beginning of the winter season. The weather is much worse in these mountains than it is on the prairies; soon, it will be even more severe. We cannot stay here much longer.”
Joanna took another bite of the bitter root and couldn’t help wrinkling her nose in distaste.
Morning Song laughed and handed Joanna a different kind of root, urging her to try it. “The taste of this root is not quite as offensive as the other, Joanna. You must eat to keep up your strength, you know.”
Joanna noticed the worried frown on Morning Song’s face and proceeded to rub away the dirt that still clung to the root. She then bit into it, hoping it wouldn’t taste as bitter as the other one had, while Morning Song watched her expectantly. To Joanna’s surprise, it had a nutlike flavor. While it was certainly not delicious, she found it to be palatable.
“I suppose we should gather all the nuts and berries we can find, so we can carry them with us when we leave. I think the time will come when we will welcome even these horrible things,” Joanna said.
Morning Song nodded. “It would be best if we were to continue our journey in the morning. It will be difficult to leave this shelter, but we dare not linger here any longer than necessary.” Morning Song touched Joanna’s arm. “I am very concerned about the baby. We do not want it to be born in these mountains. I want to take care of you.”
Joanna squeezed her sister-in-law’s hand. “We shall look after each other. Do not despair about the baby—I am very strong, and together we will make it out of these mountains, Morning Song. Look how far we have made it already. As a team, we are unbeatable.”
Morning Song nodded her head in complete agreement. She bit into the root and frowned at its bitter taste as Joanna had only moments before. “What I would not give for a slice of our mother’s buffalo roast or even some pemmican,” the young girl said earnestly.
Joanna laughed. “Please, say no more, you are making my mouth water!”
After both girls had eaten, Joanna took Morning Song’s knife and used it to sharpen the end of the long pole. When that had been accomplished, they went out of the cave in search of more food. It was difficult to find nuts and berries underneath the thick blanket of snow, and they both knew they would have to rely more and more on the bitter roots.
When each of them had filled their pouches with whatever foodstuff they could find, they returned to the cave. They sat beside the fire trying to get warm, each lost in her own thoughts.
In the late afternoon, Joanna and Morning Song made another trip down the mountainside to gather more firewood. By then, the storm seemed to be intensifying, making it very difficult to climb back up to the cave. When they finally reached the cave, they both huddled close to the fire, trying to get warm.
Joanna felt despondent and wondered if they would ever leave these mountains alive. She feared that neither of them would have the strength to endure the fierce storm that howled outside their cozy haven. It was as though she and Morning Song were cut off from the rest of the world. She had the feeling they would never find their way out of the mountains.
“We are going to get home, Joanna,” Morning Song said with conviction, as if she had read her mind. “We have to make it for the baby’s sake.” Morning Song turned to look at her beautiful flame-haired sister. She could see the gentle swell of Joanna’s stomach and vowed silently that she would never give up until Joanna and the baby were safe. Windhawk would expect her to watch over his wife and baby.
Joanna hugged the young girl to her. “We will overcome what we must, Morning Song.”
“Are you frightened?”
“Yes, I admit to being scared, but look how far we have come already. The odds were against us, and still we escaped the Cree, as well as a pack of hungry wolves. What can possibly be worse than what we have already been through?”
Morning Song tried to smile, but Joanna could see it was an effort for her. “I had hoped that Windhawk would come after us when he discovered we were missing. Even he could never find us in this snowstorm.”
“As I told you, Morning Song, the only help we are going to get will come from ourselves. We must look to each other for strength.”
“Joanna, you miss She Who Heals, do you not?”
“Yes, very much. She was a wonderful person and touched my life deeply. I remember my father once telling me that the people who touch one’s life never really die, but remain a part of us for as long as we live.”
“Yes, that is true. I will always have the vision of my father in my heart,” Morning Song agreed, staring into the flickering firelight, remembering the time when her father and Windhawk had brought her to this sacred cave. She somehow felt as if her father’s spirit was looking after her and Joanna. Sitting up quickly, she remembered something else.
“Joanna, I want to show you something! My father told me and Windhawk when h
e showed it to us that we must tell no one about it, but I know he would not mind if I shared the secret with you.”
Standing up, Morning Song picked up one of the sticks of wood that burned in the campfire to use as a torch. She motioned for Joanna to follow her.
Morning Song led her to the back of the cave where there was a tiny opening that Joanna hadn’t noticed before.
“We must climb through here,” Morning Song told her.
“Suppose it is inhabited by a bear or some other wild animal?” Joanna asked.
“The opening is too small for a bear,” Morning Song answered. “Here, you hold the torch while I crawl through, then I’ll hold it for you.”
Joanna nodded in agreement. When it was her turn to climb through the opening, she looked about in awe at what she saw. There were many Indian drawings on the walls. She drew in her breath when the light from the torch fell on the back wall of the cave. Running her hand over the cold, shimmering surface, she turned to face Morning Song.
“Your father was right—you must never tell anyone about this cave. This is called gold, and if any white men ever discovered it, there would be no stopping the number of them who would invade your sacred mountain.”
“Why is gold so important to the white man, Joanna? I have never understood why they kill for it. It is just rock, is it not? Perhaps it is of a brighter color than most other rocks, but I see nothing about it which would be worth a man’s life.”
Joanna’s face became grim. “With this gold, you could buy wondrous things in the white world. It would bring you wealth beyond your wildest imagination.”
Morning Song shook her head. “We of the Blood Blackfoot have all we could ever desire. This gold rock is of no use to us.”
“That is as it should be, Morning Song. Remember to tell no one about this cave!” she warned.
Savage Winter Page 20
