Wind Warrior (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Returning to her work, she wondered what Aunt Cora was doing at the moment. Had Uncle Matt gone to war? Despite her determination not to forget her old life, many things were becoming distant memories. In the beginning Rain Song had stayed true to her vow to remember details about her life before she had become a captive. But lately she often forgot her nightly ritual of repeating her white name. The past was slipping away from her as she became more immersed in the Blackfoot way of life.

  “I have heard Spotted Flower is expecting her second child,” Tall Woman observed. “I have also heard she is not happy about it.”

  “She has reason to be unhappy. Everyone knows Charging Bull beats her,” Rain Song said, looking into Tall Woman’s eyes. “I would not want to live with a man like him.”

  “Daughter, not all Blackfoot men are like Charging Bull, just as not all white men are like the ones who killed my daughter. Spotted Flower brings much of the harm on herself. It is said she complains and rebels against her husband. I have seen for myself that she neglects her baby daughter, and Yellow Bird has taken the child as her own.”

  Rain Song scooped up the crushed berries and added them to the meat mixture. “In many ways I pity her—she saw her mother die, and she does not know if the rest of her family escaped the day we were taken captive. Then she was forced to be the wife of a man she fears and despises. I would act no differently if I were in her place.”

  “Yes, you would, daughter. You are nothing like her.”

  “Do you think…will I…be forced to wed a man I do not like?”

  Tall Woman looked pensive. “If it is within my power, you will only be given to a man you admire.”

  “Whenever Dull Knife is in the village, he watches me, and it frightens me.”

  “I like him no more than you do,” Tall Woman admitted. “Just make certain you are never alone with him,” she warned.

  Feeling relieved, Rain Song took more dried berries from her doeskin bag and began pounding them into powder. She was startled when Broken Lance entered the tipi, took his bow from a hook, and paused to speak to his wife.

  “There is trouble. Wind Warrior has warned that we will be flooded and lives will be lost if we do not move the village away from the river.”

  Tall Woman looked puzzled. “Why is there trouble? Wind Warrior’s advice is always sound.”

  The chief was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Dull Knife has challenged his brother and called him a coward. He says anyone who follows Wind Warrior is also a coward. I must try to keep the brothers from disturbing the peace of the village. People are divided in their loyalties. Most of them will follow Wind Warrior, but some have decided to remain behind with Dull Knife.”

  “Which brother will we follow, my husband?”

  “My concern is for the people,” he said, his eyes dropping to his wife’s extended waistline. “I will heed Wind Warrior’s warning.”

  “We always knew the day would come when those two brothers would go head to head.”

  Broken Lance nodded. “That day is here. I go now to speak to the elders.” He turned his attention to Rain Song. “Help your mother break camp and load the travois. We depart at sunup tomorrow.”

  Tall Woman watched her husband leave. “I had thought to have my baby here in this place, where I was born.”

  Quickly mixing the last of the pemmican so she could pack up the tipi, Rain Song asked, “Do you believe Wind Warrior?”

  “I do. He would not have us move the village unless there was a good reason. The difference between the two brothers is Dull Knife runs among the buffalo to show the other warriors his courage so he can boast about it—Wind Warrior helps our warriors find the herds so we will not starve.”

  “Why would anyone trust Dull Knife?”

  Tall Woman bent to fold a robe. “Trust him or not, he is a great warrior. His friends, who are also strong warriors, accept his opinion. I fear for the safety of their families.”

  Though Wind Warrior was only nineteen winters old, his strength and wisdom were already legendary, and his name was spoken with reverence among the Blackfoot. When he came striding through the village, his dark hair hanging down his muscled shoulders, every maiden stared at him with her heart in her eyes, and so did Rain Song. But Wind Warrior had chosen a solitary life in service to his tribe. There were times when Rain Song felt he had burdens that lay heavily on his mind. She had seen it in his eyes and wished she could help him.

  She touched Chinook’s head, as she often did when she thought of Wind Warrior. Through her connection to the wolf, she somehow felt she had a part of him with her.

  Rain Song took a heavy cooking pot from Tall Woman and set it outside the tipi to be loaded on the travois. They must be ready to leave by morning.

  Later in the afternoon, when the tipi had been taken down and all their possessions packed, Tall Woman and Rain Song walked through the village to see if any of the other women needed help. Rain Song counted five tipis that had not been struck—they belonged to the people who had decided to remain with Dull Knife.

  They passed Charging Bull’s tipi. Rain Song was relieved to see Spotted Flower packing their belongings.

  “Would you like us to help you?” Tall Woman asked.

  Spotted Flower did not even look up. “I do not need your help.”

  Mother and daughter looked at each other and walked away.

  “How can Wind Warrior know there will be a flood?” Rain Song asked.

  Tall Woman paused to gaze at the sunset. “There are those who say he sees things before they happen, although he denies he has that power.” She took Rain Song’s arm and led her toward a group of men. “Let us find out for ourselves.”

  Broken Lance stood among the warriors, as did Wind Warrior and Dull Knife. Dull Knife was speaking loudly, waving his arms about, stabbing a finger against Wind Warrior’s chest.

  “Why do you foolish people listen to the ravings of my younger brother? Have I not proved my worthiness? Those of you who follow him will endure the scalding heat of the prairie while the rest of us will be situated here beside the Milk River, where it is cooler. Do not come complaining to me when you discover my brother has misled you. Do you believe he can see tomorrow? I know he cannot.”

  Murmurs of dissent echoed through the crowd. Broken Lance held up his hand, calling for silence. “Let us hear what Wind Warrior has to say.”

  Rain Song fixed her gaze on the young warrior, and her heart pounded inside her. She would follow him anywhere he led. For a moment, their eyes met, and then he looked away.

  “I can no more see the future than any one of you. This I will tell you. I was climbing in the mountains when I saw a rock slide blocking the stream that brings the water to the river. I would have cleared the boulders away, but they were too heavy for six men to lift. Not even in a full season could the rocks be removed. I watched the force of the stream building up behind the rock slide—it will not be many days before the force of the water is so great, it will break through the boulders and flood this entire area. I say this as the truth.”

  Dull Knife gripped his brother’s arm. “Do not believe him. Stay with me. I will keep you all safe.”

  Stepping forward, Broken Lance shook his head. “As your chief, I can only advise you. As for me, I am taking my wife, daughter, and unborn child to the prairie. I advise the rest of you to do the same. If there was time, we would go into the mountains and see for ourselves what Wind Warrior has seen.”

  Rain Song stared at Broken Lance. It was the first time he had referred to her as his daughter, and her heart swelled with pride.

  “I go with Wind Warrior,” a strong voice called out. A tall man with long white hair pushed his way through the crowd. “If you want to live, you should also heed Wind Warrior’s warnings.”

  “Father,” Dull Knife said contemptuously.

  Wind Warrior looked at his father sadly. For him to return from Canada at this moment was unfortunate. It hurt him that White Owl h
ad so publicly chosen between his two sons. Wind Warrior knew that that choice had cost his father.

  “As you all know,” White Owl said, “I led some of our people to settle in Canada. At last I am home to stay.” White Owl looked meaningfully at Broken Lance and then stepped between his two sons, looking first at the elder and then the younger. “What is happening here today is about much more than whether or not the river will flood.”

  “And just what do you think is happening?” Dull Knife wanted to know.

  White Owl touched Dull Knife on the shoulder. “From what I just heard, you are attempting to cause division between our people.”

  “No, not I,” Dull Knife stated forcefully. “It is Wind Warrior who wants to drive them to the prairie, where there is much greater danger than here.”

  “My father,” Wind Warrior said. “No one expects you to choose between your sons, least of all me.”

  “Our father has already chosen,” Dull Knife hissed.

  His hate-filled gaze suddenly settled on Rain Song. She had seen that menacing look before, when he had killed Susan.

  “You, white girl,” Dull Knife called out, moving toward her. “Will you remain here with those of us who do not want to follow Wind Warrior? Do you want to spend the heat of the season on the dry prairie and die without water?”

  Chinook pressed her body against Rain Song and stared into her face, as if she knew something was wrong. Then the wolf whipped her head around, her golden eyes fixed on Dull Knife—the bristles on her neck standing up, her teeth bared. Rain Song placed a calming hand on the wolf’s head while she glared at Dull Knife and stepped closer to Tall Woman. “I do as my father commands,” she answered coldly.

  “So,” Dull Knife said, anger reddening his face. “You go with those who believe my brother. I want you to remember I offered you the chance to remain safe.”

  Rain Song turned her head, wishing Dull Knife had not singled her out. She watched as two families who had chosen to stay by the river moved to stand with the ones who were going to the prairie. Tall Woman touched Rain Song’s arm and motioned that the two of them should leave.

  Rain Song felt drained from the hostility she had just witnessed. “I do not understand why anyone would remain with Dull Knife.”

  They had reached the river and both stood watching the calm water lapping against the bank. “Dull Knife is making an attempt to grab power. And he believes he will win. My fear is what he will do next to obtain that power.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I fear his first victim will be his brother.” Tall Woman’s brow furrowed. “Then he will come after my husband, because Broken Lance sided against him. I wonder if he will even seek revenge on his own father”

  Chapter Twelve

  Poised beside the Milk River, Wind Warrior stared into the star-strewn night in brooding silence. The moon was so big and bright it appeared to be a huge golden ball hanging in the sky. His eyes widened as he watched a shower of shooting stars streak across the heavens.

  Something stirred deep in his mind, the meaning just out of reach.

  He was troubled. The confrontation with Dull Knife had left him angry. His father was still trying to convince him to leave, but his brother would remain out of stubbornness, willing to sacrifice those who believed in him, rather than admit he was wrong.

  A warm breeze touched his cheeks and he closed his eyes, freeing his mind of all thought.

  Hearing footsteps behind him, Wind Warrior did not need to turn around to know who it was. He easily recognized Falling Thunder’s footsteps. They had been friends for years—but he did not want to talk to the warrior tonight.

  “You have been out here for a long time,” Falling Thunder observed. “Is there something in the sky of particular interest?”

  “If there is, it evades me,” Wind Warrior absently responded, not yet ready to end his solitary musing.

  His friend shook his head and laughed. “That is not an answer. You live behind a veil of secrecy and share your thoughts with no one.”

  Wind Warrior gazed in the distance as heavy sadness struck him to the heart. “I shared my thoughts with the village today and had a hand in dividing loyalties. That was not what I intended.”

  Falling Thunder gazed into the darkness. “Yet you were right to do so.”

  “I have no answers for myself. It is a lonely road I am destined to walk,” Wind Warrior said solemnly.

  “Lonely?”

  “At least for now.”

  “It is said by many that you can see into the future.”

  Wind Warrior smiled. “People will believe what they want. I can no more see what the future holds than you can.”

  His friend looked up at the sky, wondering what Wind Warrior saw that others did not. “If you cannot foretell the future, how could you warn us that we would be hit by a flood if we remained here?”

  “You heard me tell of the landslide.”

  “Yes.”

  Wind Warrior turned to study Falling Thunder. “It was not a matter of reading the stars to see the disaster that would strike the land along the Milk River. It was reasoning that I used.”

  Falling Thunder studied his friend for a long moment, his expression skeptical. “What are your special powers if not looking into the future?”

  “I do not have any special powers.” Wind Warrior was annoyed that his friend did not understand that. “I do feel our people are somehow my responsibility, and I must look out for them. But I have felt this for a long time—no doubt, because the thought was planted in my mind when I was given my name.” He had rarely shared his thoughts with anyone, but tonight it was difficult to carry his burden alone. “For reasons I cannot say, I seem to sense when there is trouble, but I never know exactly what the trouble will be, and I am never guided to the complete truth.”

  “Last year you helped us find a large buffalo herd when our meat supply was growing sparse.”

  “I merely followed the trampled grass, and the buffalo droppings. It was no more than anyone else could have done.”

  “None of the others did.”

  Wind Warrior sighed. “I do not want to discuss this tonight.”

  His friend shrugged. “Will you lead us in the morning when we leave the village?”

  “I will join you later,” Wind Warrior said in a measured tone. “I have a need to be alone.”

  Falling Thunder understood and nodded. He was accustomed to his friend’s dark moods and sought to divert him. “Then perhaps you would like to hear what troubles me?”

  Wind Warrior looked at him knowingly. “You speak of White Wing. You want her for your wife, yet you think she does not see you.”

  Startled, Falling Thunder searched Wind Warrior’s face. “You do see inside our minds; otherwise you would not have known how I feel about her.” He glanced up at the sky. “Did you see this in the stars? Will she one day be mine?”

  Wind Warrior laughed. “I see nothing in the stars. Like everyone else, I see the way your gaze follows White Wing, and the way you always lose your power to speak whenever she is nearby.” He smiled. “And you stumble over your own two feet when she looks your way.”

  Smiling, Falling Thunder felt warmth wash through him just thinking of White Wing’s soft brown eyes. “She is the woman I want to walk beside me through life.”

  Wind Warrior placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder and clasped it. “Take heart, I have also seen her watching you. I wish you many fine sons.”

  They were both silent for a time and then Falling Thunder spoke again. “Has no woman interested you enough to cause you to lose your voice and stumble like a fool when she is about?”

  “There is one, but she is not yet a woman, so I must wait for her. She is afraid of her own feelings. I will wait until she reaches marriageable age, and hope she loses that fear.”

  Falling Thunder shook his head and laughed aloud. “There is not a maiden in our village who would not agree to walk beside you. Who is this you
ng maiden you speak of?”

  Wind Warrior closed his eyes for a moment, reluctant to reveal too much of what he felt. But he trusted his friend with his life, and he would trust him with his secret yearning. “You will say nothing of what I tell you tonight.”

  “You know I will not.”

  “I know it makes no sense—I have told myself this. But in my mind, when I see a woman walking beside me, it is the chief’s daughter, the white maiden with hair the color of gold.” His expression hardened. “I do not like that I see this. I do not want to need her. But I do.”

  With his mouth gaping, Falling Thunder hesitated a moment before answering. “Now I know what troubles you. It would be better for you if you never looked in her direction. Look what Charging Bull suffers because he chose the crazed red hair.”

  “The red hair is devious and untrustworthy. My little golden hair has a heart of kindness. I have seen only goodness in her.”

  “Are you sure it is your heart that wants her, or are you misinterpreting your body’s desire to possess her?”

  “I have considered that and discounted it. She is too young to look at with lust. I want much more than to join with her body. I want her spirit to merge with mine. I find myself wanting to know everything about her life. I want to share her happiness—already I shared her pain when others were unkind to her. My name might as well still be He-Who-Waits. I must wait for her to grow into a woman.”

  Falling Thunder was stunned by Wind Warrior’s admission. “She is not so young. She now has the body of a woman.” He frowned. “It is said Tall Woman guards her white daughter against those who want to take her.”

  Wind Warrior nodded. “I know all this. I know every reason I should turn away from her. Perhaps with the passing of time, I will be able to do so.”

  “Think of her no more,” Falling Thunder urged.

  “She is all I can think about. Winning Rain Song’s heart is my burden—and my joy. Before knowing her, I had not really lived. But loving her, without knowing how she feels about me, is like a thorn in my own heart.”