His kiss was filled with love and desire, with the primal male urge to possess, to dominate, and yet he was infinitely tender, iron sheathed in silk, strength veiled in velvet.
The sound of his voice was low and husky. The notes of the flute were soft and sweet. The buffalo robe beneath her was warm against her bare skin. And Hawk was all around her, his scent filling her nostrils, his body molding itself to hers, making her heart sing.
She watched his face as they became one, saw the passion flare in the depths of his beautiful black eyes, felt the rough silk of his hair brush her cheek as he moved slowly within her, and everywhere he touched her skin turned to fire.
And then she was reaching, climbing toward the fulfillment that only he could give her. She sighed his name as she burst into the sun, felt him shudder as his own release came a moment later.
Sated, they clung to each other, the rasp of their breaths and the faint notes of the love flute the only sounds within the dark cocoon of the lodge.
Maggie woke feeling as if she had swallowed a ray of sunlight. Smiling with the memory of the night past, she gazed at the man sleeping peacefully beside her, felt her heart swell with love as she lifted a lock of his hair and wound it around her finger. She wished she could tell Bobby just how much magic his Big Twisted Flute possessed, and then she laughed softly, thinking how embarrassed they’d both be if she told him about last night.
“Are you laughing at me, mitawicu?” Shadow Hawk asked, his voice filled with mock reproach.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Maggie replied. “Not after last night.”
“Last night,” he murmured, and a slow smile of remembrance curved his lips. “I must tell Proud Eagle that his flute does indeed work magic and ask him to play his flute often.”
“Don’t you dare!” Maggie said. She punched Hawk on the shoulder as she imagined him telling Bobby about the night past. Men! She could just imagine the two of them grinning at each other and slapping each other on the back.
Hawk covered his face with his arms, laughing uproariously as Maggie continued to pummel him with her fists.
“Are you laughing at me?” she demanded.
“No, mitawicu,” he said, gasping for breath. “I would never laugh at you.”
“Oh, you!” Maggie exclaimed, and, changing tactics, she began to kiss Hawk’s arms and hands, licking his fingers.
Before she quite knew what had happened, she found herself on her back looking up at her husband, her hands imprisoned in one of his.
“Something wrong?” she asked innocently.
“I am thinking of last night,” Hawk replied. “And thinking that you are just as tempting in the light of day with no flute playing in the background.”
“Are you?” Maggie whispered, surprised that she could speak at all for the sudden, fierce pounding of her heart.
Shadow Hawk nodded. Slowly, he bent to place a kiss on her brow, the tip of her nose, her cheek, her chin.
“Your mother…” Maggie said. “She…”
“I will secure the lodge flap and she will understand.”
“We can’t shut her out of her own house.”
“Yes,” Shadow Hawk said firmly, “we can.”
He left her just long enough to secure the door, then slid under the buffalo robes again, his arms reaching for her eagerly as he caught her close.
Later, Maggie admitted it was just as wonderful in the morning.
When they left the lodge an hour later, they saw that it had snowed the night before. The whole world was covered in a spotless blanket of white.
Winona’s lips twitched slightly as she nodded to her son and his wife before ducking into the lodge.
Maggie felt her cheeks grow hot, but Hawk just grinned.
“There is no need to be embarrassed,” Hawk said. “My mother was young once. Her blood warmed at my father’s touch. How do you think I came to be born?”
“I know, but…” Maggie shrugged. “I just never thought I’d be locking my mother-in-law out in the snow while I made love to my husband.”
Shadow Hawk laughed and the sound of it washed over Maggie like sunshine. It occurred to her that she had rarely heard Hawk laugh until they came here. It was a wonderful sound, deep and filled with happiness.
She smiled up at him, her eyes reflecting the love in her heart.
Impulsively, Hawk lifted her into his arms and twirled her around. “It is a good day to be alive,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “May all our days be the same.”
“And may our son be as handsome as his father.”
“And as giving as his mother,” Shadow Hawk said fervently.
“And as strong as the love that binds us together.”
Shadow Hawk nodded solemnly as he set Maggie on her feet. For a moment, they gazed into each other’s eyes, oblivious of the comings and goings of others in the camp, and then Winona called them in for breakfast.
That afternoon, a couple of young men, Red Arrow among them, set up a target and they began shooting at it, bragging about who was the best.
Gradually, more and more people gathered around to watch, and what had started as a way to pass the time became a contest to see who was the most skilled with bow and arrow.
Shadow Hawk was urged to take part, as were Crooked Lance and Buffalo Heart. Proud Eagle stood beside Maggie as the men took their places. When all bets were made, the contest began.
It was evident from the start that Hawk and Buffalo Heart were the best of the bunch. They matched each other shot for shot, placing their arrows in the center of the target every time.
Gradually, the target was moved farther and farther away, and now Hawk’s skill proved itself.
“He’s great,” Bobby said, his voice filled with awe. “I wish I could do that.”
“You will,” Maggie said, but she doubted that anyone could ever attain Hawk’s speed and accuracy. Or his fluidity of movement. He was wonderful to watch. His eye and hand coordination was flawless, his movements graceful and smooth, without wasted motion. Each arrow went exactly where it was meant to go.
Eventually, Hawk beat out every other competitor and was declared the winner. There was a lot of talking and laughing as bets were paid off, some cheerfully, some with mock reluctance, while wives and sweethearts consoled the losers.
Foot races were the next event, with races for children, women and men according to age. The first race was for young men. The course was two miles long, a mile down and a mile back over a course brushed clear of snow.
Maggie shivered as the men who were going to participate in the race stripped down to their leggings and breechclouts.
More bets were made as the runners warmed up.
Bobby stood between Maggie and Hawk, undecided about whether to enter or not, until he saw Star-on-the-Wind join the crowd.
Taking a deep breath, he stripped off his shirt and handed it to Maggie.
Shadow Hawk shot Proud Eagle a knowing grin as he patted him on the back. “May Wakán Tanka give your feet wings,” he murmured.
With a nod, Bobby went to join the other men at the starting line.
The runners were tightly bunched during the first half of the race. Maggie clenched her fists as she leaned forward, willing Bobby to run faster. Around her, she could hear people shouting encouragement to their favorites. She slid a quick glance at Star-on-the-Wind, smiled as she saw that the girl’s gaze was fixed on Bobby.
As the runners made the turn at the halfway point, Bobby was in fourth place.
Maggie screamed his name, jumping up and down as he began to pull ahead. Into third place. Second.
“Run, Bobby, run!” she yelled, and then hollered with excitement as he overtook the leader, crossing the finish line first.
Breathless, Bobby stood at the finish line, his sides heaving, certain he’d never be the same again. He’d been working out at the ranch for a couple of months, but the men he’d run against had been training their whole lives. It was only his need to look g
ood in Star-on-the-Wind’s eyes that had given him the strength to finish the race, the will to win.
When his breathing was less erratic, he looked over his shoulder.
Star-on-the-Wind was standing only a few feet away, her beautiful dark eyes glowing with pride and affection. She held up the buffalo robe she had wagered on the outcome of the race, and then held up the fine buffalo robe she had won.
Bobby smiled back at her, thinking he’d never been more pleased about anything in his life.
The next race was for men over twenty-five.
Maggie looked at Hawk as he stripped off his shirt. “You’re going to run?”
Hawk grinned at her. “I must. Red Arrow has entered the race. We have run against each other every year since we could walk.”
“Who’s going to win?”
Shadow Hawk shrugged. “I cannot say. I won last year. He won the year before that. And the year before that it was a tie. But that was among our own people. I do not know how fast Sitting Bull’s warriors can run.” He grinned at her as he handed her his shirt. “Wish me luck, mitawicu.”
Maggie smiled at her husband, then kissed his cheek. “You’ve got it.”
Buffalo Heart gave the signal to begin and the crowd cheered as the men took off. Hawk and Red Arrow went right to the front, closely followed by a Hunkpapa warrior. Women and children yelled at the tops of their voices, calling for their fathers or brothers to run like the wind. But the race was between Hawk and Red Arrow and the Hunkpapa warrior, and the lead changed several times as they reached the halfway mark.
Maggie cheered for Hawk as he headed down the homestretch, her voice hoarse from screaming his name. She laughed with pleasure as he crossed the finish line first, then threw her arms around Winona and gave her a hug.
Hawk’s mother smiled, delighted by her daughter-in-law’s enthusiasm and affection. In the beginning, she had not been in favor of the marriage, but now she knew that Hawk had found the right woman. Though Maggie was white, she had a good heart, a deep love for the Lakota people and their way of life. She was quick to learn their ways, eager to know more. She did not view their lifestyle with derision, she did not mock their beliefs but embraced them as fully as any Lakota maiden.
“He won!” Maggie exclaimed, blushing a little at her emotional outburst.
Winona nodded. “I always thought he was part horse, he could run so fast. Now, I must go find Red Arrow’s wife. She wagered a pair of quilled moccasins against my red blanket. It is time she paid up.”
Maggie chuckled softly. The Lakota, both men and women, loved to gamble. Any game, any contest, was sure to be wagered upon.
She watched Hawk as he teased Red Arrow, accusing his best friend of getting too old and lazy to run a mere two miles. Red Arrow gave Hawk a good-natured thump on the shoulder and promised to get even next time.
When the races were done the people went back to their lodges to rest and eat the noonday meal. And then Red Arrow and his wife and son came to visit. Little Owl crawled into Winona’s lap and begged for a story and she agreed to tell him one if he promised to take a nap when it was over.
At his solemn nod, she began to tell one of the Sioux creation stories. Maggie remembered the story Hawk had told her, but this one was different. This wasn’t about the creation of people, but the creation of the earth.
As Maggie listened, she realized that Winona’s story was very similar to the story of the creation found in the Bible, for her story also told how Maka, the earth, was formed, from Inyan, the rock, and how Wakán Tanka created the heavens, which he called Skan. He also created the great waters and divided the light from the darkness so that there was night and day. Day was called Anpetu, and the light of day, or the sun, was called Wi, and Wakán Tanka called the darkness Han, and he called the moon Hanhepi wi.
Maggie let out a deep breath as Winona finished her story. It was a beautiful tale filled with wonder and mystery, so different from the biblical creation of the earth and yet so similar that she felt a new closeness with Hawk and his people.
As promised, Little Owl went to take a nap, and Winona left the lodge to visit Star-on-the-Wind’s mother, leaving Hawk and Maggie alone.
Shadow Hawk studied Maggie’s face, the faint smile that curved her lips, the peaceful look in her eyes. She seemed happy here with the Lakota, but he couldn’t help wondering if she missed her own people. Her life was so different from his. He found it hard to believe she could be happy here, when every day was a struggle for survival, that she didn’t long to return to her own house, to all the modern wonders that made the life of the white man so easy, so comfortable.
Odd as it seemed, sometimes he missed the marvels of her age, the luxury of a hot bath, the sweet taste of chocolate, even watching television. She had known those things all her life.
“Are you happy here with my people? With me?” he asked quietly.
Maggie basked in the deep, rich sound of his voice, warmed to the depths of her heart by the love shining in his eyes.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “More than I can say.”
“You liked my mother’s story.”
Maggie nodded. “It’s very like what my people believe.” She took his hand in hers and pressed it to her lips. “Someday, we will tell it to our children, and our children’s children.”
Hawk grunted softly, his love for her filling him with such tenderness it was almost painful. “Ah, Mag-gie, you are like Wi, filled with warmth and light.”
“And you are like Inyan, strong and powerful, yet you make me feel weak.”
Shadow Hawk’s fingertips caressed her cheek. “Are you weak now?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.
“Weak with wanting you,” Maggie whispered, and felt the familiar flutter deep in the core of her being as Hawk drew her into his arms and kissed her.
Ever mindful of the new life she carried, his hands were tender, gentle as they moved over her body. His dark-eyed gaze lingered on her face, the look in his eyes more eloquent than a thousand words.
And Maggie gave herself to him willingly, wholly, holding nothing back.
He was Inyan, the rock upon which all her hopes and dreams were built.
And she was Wi, the sun, giver of life, who filled his world with light and warmth.
And for Maggie there were no fears.
And for Hawk there was no darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Maggie had a chance to see her first Lakota ceremony a few days later. Buffalo Heart’s youngest daughter, Tashia, was six years old and her mother had decided that it was time for Nonge Pahloka, the ear-piercing ceremony.
It was a happy time. By performing this ceremony, Tashia’s parents and grandmother were displaying their love for the child.
Shadow Hawk had been chosen to pierce Tashia’s ears. It was an honor, for only a man of respect, one esteemed for his bravery and wisdom, was chosen for such a thing.
Maggie sat between Winona and Star-on-the-Wind, caught up in the festivities. Tashia’s grandmother had prepared a great feast of roast venison and the people ate with gusto, knowing this would be the last big feed before winter closed in.
Maggie felt a wave of gratitude to Veronica for teaching her to speak the Lakota language. It was wonderful to be able to converse with Winona and Star-on-the-Wind. Knowing their language eased the barriers between them, making Maggie more readily accepted by the Indian people. Many were surprised to learn she could speak their tongue fluently. Women who had looked at her with suspicion and distrust looked at her through new eyes when they discovered she could speak their language.
Tashia’s parents placed the girl on a large blanket. All around her were gifts that would be given away as a token of their love for their daughter. The most valuable gift, a Winchester rifle, was given to Hawk.
Tashia was very brave as Hawk took a sharp awl and pierced her ears.
Afterward, the gifts were handed out.
Later, Maggie
and Hawk walked hand in hand along the river. It was peaceful and quiet, with only the soft calling of crickets and frogs to mar the stillness. Overhead, a million twinkling stars smiled down on them.
Maggie smiled up at Hawk. “It was a great honor for you, wasn’t it, to be chosen to pierce Tashia’s ears?”
“Yes. I had thought they would ask Sitting Bull.”
“Why didn’t they?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps because Bobby is my friend and Buffalo Heart and his wife wished to honor him through me.”
Maggie nodded. “He’s very much in love with Star-on-the-Wind.”
“Yes. I think they will be married soon.”
Maggie smiled, eager for Bobby to find the same kind of happiness she had found. “He’s adapted well to life here.”
“It is in his blood to be a warrior.”
“Perhaps he was right,” Maggie mused. “Perhaps he was born in the wrong time after all.”
“He will be happy here,” Shadow Hawk remarked. “But what of you, Mag-gie? How long will you be content to stay here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you not miss the ease of your old life?”
Maggie shrugged. “There are things I miss,” she admitted, “but none of them compare to you. After all, you can’t make love to a microwave, and curling up in your arms is much more satisfying than curling up in front of the TV.”
Shadow Hawk grinned. “Then you will be content to spend the rest of your life here, with me?”
“I’d be content to spend the rest of my life with you anywhere,” Maggie said emphatically, and kissed him soundly, putting an end to the last of his doubts.
The weather was mild for the next few days and then, without warning, winter returned. The wind blew down out of the north, its teeth sharp and cold. Rain pummeled the lodge skins, thunder shook the earth, and lightning danced across the skies, occasionally striking one of the tall pines.
A week later it began to snow. Unlike the last time, when the snow had lasted only two days, this storm lasted for a week.
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