Wind Warrior spoke at last. “I saw what happened between you and White Wing.”
Marianna couldn’t seem to look any higher than his mouth, fearing those all-knowing eyes. “It is my understanding that an unmarried maiden is not allowed to speak to a warrior without permission.” She closed her eyes, berating herself for daring to instruct Wind Warrior on tribal laws. Was he not the one many people sought out for advice? He needed no instructions from her.
A smile curved Wind Warrior’s mouth. “That would be so had I not first asked permission from your father.” He nodded forward. “Let us walk toward the woods. There are things I would say to you.”
While the other maidens watched in amazement, Marianna accompanied him. She took a misstep and would have stumbled had Wind Warrior’s hand not shot out to steady her.
Marianna was sure he must think she was not only tongue-tied, but clumsy as well. As soon as she was steady on her feet, she pulled away from him.
Wind Warrior guided them down the riverbank and eventually around the bend, and out of sight of the gawking females. Little Bird yawned, and Marianna reached down and took the child in her arms, glad the little girl was with her so she wouldn’t have to be alone with Wind Warrior.
Smiling, Little Bird snuggled into Marianna’s arms.
“She seems sleepy,” Marianna said. “Perhaps I should return her to her mother.”
“In a while. As I said, I have things to say to you.”
Suddenly it occurred to Marianna why Wind Warrior had asked to see her. Was he not the brother of Dull Knife? Had she not heard that Dull Knife was claiming she would one day be his woman?
Fear and anger battled in her mind, and anger won, giving her courage to speak her mind. “If you have come to speak to me about your brother, I know he expects me to be his woman. That I will never agree to. I will not listen to anything you have to say. I despise him.”
Wind Warrior’s eyes widened and he seemed startled by her words. He halted beneath the branches of a spreading pine tree, giving Marianna his full attention. “I do not come on behalf of my brother. Rather I asked to speak to you for your sake.”
Marianna dropped down on the grass because she feared her legs would buckle beneath her. “For my sake?”
Wind Warrior settled a little way from her, bracing his back against a tree trunk, his arms folded over his broad chest. He was silent for a long moment, seeming to listen to sounds she could not hear. “Why do you refuse to accept our ways?” he asked at last.
Marianna looked up to find his gaze lingering on her face. “I am not always clear about what is expected of me. I am not a Blackfoot, and this is not my home.”
“Will you not accept us as you find us?”
“If you want an answer, I will say this to you: I have learned your language, I have worked beside Tall Woman, doing all she asks of me. I tan hides to make clothing for Broken Lance, and I give him my respect—beyond that, I do not know what more I can do.”
“Tell me about your parents.”
She was startled by his request. “They died when I was a baby, so my aunt and uncle took me in and I became like a daughter to them. Should I accept a third set of parents just because your people demand it? I never shall!”
Glancing up at the overhead branches, Wind Warrior spoke softly. “Life does not always take us down the path we would choose for ourselves. When there are circumstances beyond our control, should we not accept them?” He turned his gaze back to her. “Should you not?”
Marianna turned his question back to him. “Would you?”
His chest rose as he took a deep breath. “Probably not. But let us speak of the way you are treated by the other maidens. I have seen how they torment you. This cannot be pleasant for you, and it cannot be allowed to continue.”
Suddenly Marianna lost her temper. “They treat me the way I expect to be treated by your people. I was kidnapped, beaten, almost starved, and forced to stand by while my friend was brutally killed. I did not choose to come here, and I will never forget who I am. The only kindness I have received since I was forced to live among you is from Tall Woman, and at times Broken Lance.” She glanced down at the child, who had closed her eyes. “And Little Bird is my friend.”
He was frustrated. “Then do something about the ones like White Wing who torment you. It is the only way you will make them stop.”
Marianna looked at him, trying to understand what he meant. “You want me to stop them by being cruel in return?”
“No. Not cruel. By being strong and making them respect you.”
Marianna shook her head. “Do you expect me to be unkind to prove how strong I am?”
Wind Warrior smiled down at her, stealing her breath. “Little one, I have often observed you. I do not believe you know how to be unkind.”
Chapter Nine
Wind Warrior studied Marianna as she gazed across the river. He could see that she was wondering if she could trust him.
Her vulnerability touched him. Small of stature, she was delicate with the soft beauty of a young girl who was on the edge of becoming a woman. Her hair was as golden as an early spring sunrise; her mouth was beautifully shaped. When she spoke, small dimples danced in her cheeks enticingly. But sadness clung to her, and she had no hope.
She had been judged and found unworthy by some of the maidens. If they did not accept her, she would never find happiness among the Blackfoot. She was totally alone, cut off from everything familiar to her. Wind Warrior wanted to see her smile, to laugh. But what he must say to her now would not make her smile—it would confuse her even more.
When he saw her chin quiver, her hurt was like an arrow piercing his own heart.
“You must challenge White Wing, and you must beat her,” he said at last. “Otherwise you will have no peace and the other maidens will never accept you.”
Marianna’s mouth fell open and she frantically searched his eyes. “You…want me to fight her?”
Again he was struck by how small she was, and how defenseless against the other maidens.
“I see no other solution. But do it in this way—the next time White Wing tries to antagonize you, do not allow her to succeed. In life there are those who take pleasure in tormenting others, especially those who do not fight back.”
“Why must that be?”
“It is the way of the world,” he said enigmatically. “I have known White Wing all her life, and I have never seen her be unkind until she became friends with Spotted Flower.”
Marianna nodded. “I wanted to hit White Wing today,” she admitted. “But I have never struck a person in my life.” She glanced down at Little Bird, who was half asleep. “I do not know if I can cause pain to anyone.”
Wind Warrior smiled. “No. I did not suppose you could. There is gentleness in your heart. But there is a time to fight.”
She raised her gaze to his. “When is that?”
“When the cause is just.”
Little Bird cuddled closer to Marianna’s body as a gentle rain began to fall. Unaware of what she was doing, she unconsciously began humming a lullaby that her aunt had always sung to her.
Wind Warrior’s eyes widened and he stilled. “What is that you are singing?” he asked, leaning toward her, his dark eyes wide with astonishment.
Marianna immediately stopped humming, feeling embarrassed. “It is a—I do not know the word for it in Blackfoot.” She lapsed into English. “It is a lullaby—a song.”
“A…song.” He reached out his hand to her and then pulled it back. “When the Blackfoot dance and sing about the campfire, it has a meaning. What does your lull…aby mean?”
“Singing in the white world is not so much a ceremony as it is for pleasure. The songs have words, but I do not know how to say them in your language.”
“Then sing the…lullaby in white man’s words.”
“It would embarrass me.”
“No one will hear you but me and the child.” His voice deepened. “Do this for
us.”
Feeling somewhat disconcerted by his request, Marianna nodded. At Fort Benton she had sung in church and even while going about her work with Aunt Cora. But here in the Blackfoot village she had hidden her need to sing, fearing she would be punished for it.
“I will try.” At first she was shy and Wind Warrior had to lean forward to hear. She hit the low notes and reached easily for the high ones. Suddenly Marianna felt a rush of happiness. She put all her loneliness and pent-up emotions in her song, and her voice seemed to float on the wind.
For the moment Marianna was back home with her family; she had even forgotten Wind Warrior was there.
When the last note of the song faded, Little Bird sat up and glanced at her. “Do that again,” she said, tugging on Marianna’s sleeve. “I want to hear it.”
Marianna glanced at Wind Warrior, who was staring at her with a strange expression on his face. “Will you do as the child asked? I too would like to hear it again.”
Marianna ducked her head, her face reddening. “I would be in trouble if Broken Lance found out I sang in English.”
Wind Warrior shook his head. “Have no fear that you will be punished. I will tell your father I asked it of you.”
She glanced down into Little Bird’s shining eyes. “It is a children’s song really. First I will tell you what it means, although it loses something when I say it in Blackfoot.” She reached in her mind, trying to translate the words. “When evening falls, let not your heart be troubled, little one lying in my arms…I will protect you and keep you from all harm.” She paused and frowned, trying to interpret the rest of the song. “It says something like, your mother is near, so be not troubled and never fear. Evening brings you sleep, sleep.” She shook her head. “My translation is not exact.”
“What is this…song called?” Wind Warrior wanted to know.
“‘Night Lullaby,’” she told him.
“Sing it for me again,” he urged.
Marianna watched how raindrops glistened on his dark hair. He had asked her to sing, and she would. With the confidence she had had when singing with her aunt, she let her voice grow in volume. She was soon lost in the melody and the familiar words she loved so dearly, words that for the moment took her back home.
The music she sang was like nothing Wind Warrior had ever heard—it touched his soul, wound its way through his heart. Her voice was so strong and clear, his chest swelled at the beauty of it. He wanted to hold on to the sound, keep it in his heart, and take for his own the girl who had introduced him to…such beauty.
Marianna was unaware others had gathered about her, listening to her sing. None of them except Spotted Flower had ever heard this kind of melody before and they were stunned by her beautiful voice.
When she sang the last note, Marianna became aware of her audience. She looked into Spotted Flower’s angry eyes and then at White Wing, who stared back at her in amazement.
“It is just Marianna showing off,” Spotted Flower said in disgust.
Tall Woman came striding through and the crowd parted. “Bring the child. We will leave now,” she told Marianna.
Marianna rose slowly, ashamed that she had drawn so much attention to herself. “I am sorry,” she said, looking about her. “I never meant to—”
Wind Warrior watched her hang her head, and he was angry that she had been made to feel shame. “You will sing as often as you wish. I saw it gave you joy and it brought me joy to hear you.” He turned to Tall Woman. “I believe you should now call Marianna ‘Rain Song.’ No longer will she be known by her white name.”
“It is fitting,” Tall Woman agreed.
Without another word, Wind Warrior walked away, soon to be lost from sight in the now hard-driving rain.
Confused, Marianna brushed past the others with Little Bird in her arms. She had to quicken her steps to keep up with Tall Woman. She heard Lillian comment that no one liked a show-off, and White Wing remark that she had never heard such horrible screeching.
She returned Little Bird to her own mother and followed Tall Woman into the tipi, wondering what her punishment would be.
But Tall Woman said nothing to Marianna that night, nor did Broken Lance mention the incident when he returned from hunting, although Marianna was certain someone must have told him.
Marianna lay upon her robe watching the light fade and the inside of the tipi darken. It seemed as though hours passed as she relived the strange events of the day. Later, as her eyelids grew heavy, she became afraid.
Today she had been given an Indian name, and lost another piece of herself.
In spite of her uncertainty, she felt honored that Wind Warrior had been the one to name her. When she had told him about those who had been kind to her since she had come to the Blackfoot village, she should have mentioned him, since he had been kindest of all. She mouthed her new name—Rain Song. It was a beautiful name.
Her mind drifted back to Wind Warrior. He was not like any man she had ever known. She wished she had not been so shy and awkward around him. She still did not know why he had wanted to help her. Was it perhaps to atone for what his brother, Dull Knife, had done to her? Or was he just kind to everyone? She supposed she would never know. But he had given her back the gift of song, and she would always be grateful for that.
Rain Song? Was that the way it happened with those captured by Indians—the way they forgot who they were and where they came from?
She must not allow that to happen to her.
“My name is Marianna Bryant,” she whispered to herself. “I have a family that misses me. My home is at Fort Benton.” Her eyes drifted shut. “I am Marianna…Bryant.” Sleep beckoned to her. “…I am Marianna…Bryant. I…“
Three days later Rain Song had another confrontation with White Wing.
She had bent down, cupping her hands to drink, when she felt a hand in the middle of her back. A sharp shove sent her flying into the river. Earlier in the morning it had rained in the nearby mountains, and the runoff had caused the river to rise and the water to run swiftly.
The current was powerful and carried Rain Song to the middle of the river. She was glad Uncle Matt had taught her to swim. Her strokes were strong and sure as she made her way back to the riverbank. Without pausing to consider the consequences, she remembered what Wind Warrior had told her to do the next time White Wing tormented her.
Several people had gathered about, watching to see what would happen. Rain Song saw Broken Lance among them and knew he would probably have her punished for what she was about to do—but that would not stop her.
As Rain Song stood dripping before White Wing, the girl looked at her with a sneer on her face, but the sneer disappeared when Rain Song grabbed her by the arm and flung her into the river.
Murmurs arose from the people watching and soon tipis emptied as others ran forward to see what the commotion was about.
Rain Song paid no attention to what was going on around her. She was watching White Wing, who was being swept away by the current. From the way the Indian girl splashed and sank into the churning water, Rain Song realized she could not swim. White Wing resurfaced in the middle of the river, but went under once again and disappeared.
Running, Rain Song dove into the water, swimming toward White Wing. When she reached the girl, she grabbed for her, trying to bring her up, but White Wing, in a panic, fought her, taking them both down.
When they finally surfaced, Rain Song wrapped her arms around White Wing’s shoulders. “If you continue to struggle, we will both drown. If you will relax, I can get us safely to shore.”
White Wing immediately stopped struggling and Rain Song’s strong strokes soon moved them out of the swift current to the shallow water along the bank.
Panting with exertion, Rain Song helped the frightened girl ashore. “You will be all right,” she said. Then she jerked White Wing’s chin up and stared into her eyes. “If you ever touch me again, I will not rescue you the next time I throw you into the river.”
>
Turning away, Rain Song hurried toward the tipi, looking neither right nor left. The crowd parted to allow her to pass. She did not see White Wing watching her with confusion, or the smile that lingered on Broken Lance’s lips.
“Your white daughter is brave,” Lean Bear said. “You have every reason to be proud of her.”
“I am,” Broken Lance replied. “She brings her mother joy, and though I was late to recognize her worth, I see it now.”
“Would this have anything to do with Wind Warrior’s interest in your daughter?” the elder asked.
“In part. But mostly because she is a gentle spirit.”
Lean Bear laughed. “She did not look gentle to me,” he said, teasing his old friend. “But perhaps we should ask White Wing what she thinks.”
Rain Song entered the tipi, her wet gown flapping against her legs, and her moccasins making a squishing sound every time she took a step.
Tall Woman looked at her, startled. “What has happened to you?”
“I’m wet.”
“I can see that for myself. Why are you wet?”
Rain Song removed one moccasin and shook the water out if it. “White Wing pushed me in the water and I had to go back in to keep her from drowning.”
Tall Woman’s brow furrowed. “You saved her life?”
“Yes. After I pushed her in the river.”
Tall Woman’s mouth opened in astonishment, then she smiled before laughing aloud. “She deserved what you did to her. It is past time for you to take action against her. I only wish I had been there to see it.”
Rain Song nodded as a smile crept over her lips. “I admit it felt good.”
“Sometimes, my daughter, you can look the other way, and other times you must fight.”
“That is what Wind Warrior said.”
Looking pensive, Tall Woman agreed with a nod. “It seems Wind Warrior has taken an interest in you. I have never known him to single out any other maiden in the village.” She shook her head regretfully. “But I would not put too much significance on it. He saw a wrong and wanted to right it. That is how he is.”
Wind Warrior (Historical Romance) Page 7
