Five
As Willow passed Bear on her way to the buggy, he reached out and caught her arm. “What is this magic you use against my brother that causes him to sit at your feet for hours like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake?”
She glanced toward the lieutenant who had stood up, put his hand on his pistol, looking nervous and undecided. She didn’t want to cause an incident and besides, she wasn’t sure the lieutenant had the courage, even with a gun, to come to her aid.
Willow jerked from Bear’s grasp. “I’m teaching him to read.” She kept her tone frosty. “It is not a kapsis itu, a bad thing.”
“I read a little,” Bear said, “but I think it is not the love of education that draws Raven to you.”
“Miss Willow,” Lieutenant Warton called, “do you need some assistance?”
She glanced from one man to the other. Bear could break the callow white man in half; probably take that pistol away from the natty officer and shove it down his throat. “No, Lieutenant, we were just discussing something about the children; that’s all.” She pushed past Bear and headed for the buggy.
Lieutenant Warton clambered down to help her up. “It’s about time; I must say.”
He didn’t have the strength Bear had, she thought as he took her elbow and assisted her into the buggy; but then, almost no one did. She remembered the way Bear had held her hand like an imprisoned, delicate bird that he could easily have crushed in his grip.
She settled herself in the buggy as the officer snapped the reins and the bay gelding began a slow and dutiful walk toward the settlement. When she glanced back over her shoulder, Raven had come up and stood by his older brother, both of them watching her with solemn expressions as the buggy left.
She breathed a sigh of relief as they drove down the road away from the camp. “Lieutenant, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to come out here with me anymore.”
“I’m not afraid, if that’s what you think,” he said a little too quickly.
“Oh, I know that,” she hastened to soothe his boyish pride, “but it does add to a tense situation. I’m not in any danger; after all, these are my people.”
“You seem so white,” he said, “that sometimes I forget you’ve got any Injun blood at all.”
“What did you say?” Perhaps she had misunderstood him.
“Nothing.” He smiled at her with that errant curl hanging down on his forehead and she thought again how handsome he’d be if he didn’t have such a weak chin.
“I’ll bet your mother doted on you,” Willow said without thinking.
“How did you know?” He chuckled.
“And were you an only child, too?”
He nodded. “My mother thought I could do no wrong, but I could never please my father.” His face clouded a moment as if remembering the past, then abruptly, he changed the subject. “So how did your day’s lessons go?”
Did he really care? His tone sounded bored. “There’s a toddler, sort of a sad little fellow, and a girl about eleven or twelve who really seems eager to learn.”
“To what purpose, Miss Willow?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He glanced over at her and his expression was almost cynical. “Is there really any point in teaching poetry and such to some little squaw who will be carrying a cradleboard and hauling firewood for some brave in a year or two?”
“Knowledge is never a waste, Lieutenant.” She watched the breathtaking scenery they were passing. “In fact, some of the adults are beginning to hang around the tree. I’m trying to figure out a way to bring them into my class without making them lose face.”
“Great!” He laughed. “I’m sure it will make our boys in blue feel much better if trouble breaks out to know they’re being scalped by educated savages.”
“Nez Perce never scalp those they kill in battle.” Her first impulse had been correct, Willow thought; she didn’t think she liked Billy Warton very much. “Really, Lieutenant, I’m disappointed; I thought you shared my concerns about educating these children.”
“Forgive me, Miss Willow, if I’ve offended you,” he said, at once charming and contrite. “I’m more concerned for your safety than anyone’s education.” He gestured with his head back over his shoulder. “I’ve seen the way that pair of brothers look at you, like they’d both want to . . .”
The silence seemed very heavy. For a long moment, the only sound was the clop of the horse’s hooves and a bird singing somewhere in the pine trees.
“Lieutenant,” she said coldly, “I think you underestimate Nez Perce braves; there is a code of honor among them.”
“The way that pair looks at you, I’d say honor is not what’s on either of their minds. But let’s not fuss, Miss Willow.” Again the engaging boyish smile. Willow wondered suddenly if he had used it often to get his way with his doting mother. “Actually, I’ve got a very selfish idea. I had one of the ladies pack us a picnic lunch so we could make a real holiday of it.”
So the rest of the town was in on this courtship, too.
“I really should get back,” Willow said. “Reverend Harlow isn’t well.”
“Oh, I’ve already mentioned it to him last night; he encouraged it. He’s a fine old man, Miss Willow, but he is concerned about having a male relative to look after both him and you in the future.”
“We’re doing all right alone,” Willow said.
“That’s what I like about you,” he said, giving her a condescending grin as he reined in under some trees. “You’re so incredibly spunky, just like a heroine in one of those silly novels girls like to weep over.”
She stifled an urge to give him a sharp slap across his smug face. But then, was his attitude any different from any of the other civilized men she knew? Men wanted wives who knew their places; good, obedient women who did as they were told. Willow sighed as Lieutenant Warton stepped down and reached for the picnic basket.
“Miss Willow, you have to eat anyway, and I’ll wager you haven’t been picnicking for a long time.”
She capitulated with a shrug. “What can it hurt?”
Bear had stood next to Raven for a long moment, staring after the buggy as it disappeared up the road. He wished he could put a name to the emotion this flippant, irreverent girl brought out in him. Perhaps it was only that he was afraid she would hurt his younger brother. There was no mistaking how Raven felt about her.
They turned and returned to their lodge.
Raven said, “Maybe we should have escorted them to make sure they don’t run into any enemy war parties on their way back to the fort.”
Bear laughed. “In the heart of our territory? No enemy would be so brazen!”
“It is not impossible.” Raven appeared dejected.
He had looked after his younger brother ever since their mother had been killed. He hadn’t meant to hurt him. Gently, he put his hand on Raven’s shoulder. “Do not think about her the way you are doing, little brother, she is not for you.”
“Must you always be so superior? So smug?” Raven shook his hand off. “You think you know everything.”
“Forgive me,” Bear said softly, “she will only bring you trouble and pain. In her heart, this one is white.”
“She’s almost half-Indian.”
“But that has been overruled by her white blood. No doubt she will marry a soldier or some settler. I seek only what is best for you; I promised that to our dying mother.”
“I will never live that down, will I?” He turned on Bear, eyes blazing. “Must you remind me that if it hadn’t been for my cowardice, she would still be alive?”
“You were only a boy,” Bear soothed softly, “and even the bravest warrior might run when facing the great grizzly.”
“But you did not run; you would never flee in the face of danger, especially if others’ lives were at stake.”
Bear sighed. “It is not important.”
“It is important to me!” Raven’s voice rose, “How do you think I feel, knowing I am aliv
e because of what you endured? That everyone among our people knows my cowardice caused our mother’s death?”
“It could have happened to anyone,” Bear said softly. “Do I ever mention it?”
“You don’t have to, but I never forget, except sometimes when I get into the white man’s whiskey; then I forget for a little while.”
“Someday, Raven, I know you will do something very brave and honorable, something that all our people will remember and tell around the campfires a hundred years from now.”
“And in the meantime, I live in your shadow,” Raven said, bitterness etched on his handsome face. “I was better armed than you, yet I turned and ran like a terrified rabbit!”
Bear shrugged. “You couldn’t help it that your arrow only wounded it.”
“But there was time for a second shot if I had stood my ground instead of fleeing and leaving our mother to face it. If only—”
“These are sad words,” Bear said, “and nothing can be changed except the future. Someday, I have faith that you will bring honor to our family as our father did when he died in battle against the enemy Blackfoot; that someday, you, too, will sing a warrior’s song in battle.”
“You have more faith in me than I do,” Raven snapped. “And in the meantime, if the girl finds out, she would laugh at me as do the others.”
“Perhaps she will not find out,” Bear suggested softly. “I will not tell her.”
“Someone will. Do you know why she thinks you have the name?”
He didn’t answer, Bear only waited.
“She thinks it is because of your disposition, because you are so abrupt with her.”
Bear shrugged wide shoulders. “It is of no matter to me what she thinks.” He looked away then because it was not good for a man to lie and somehow, the girl’s opinion mattered very much to him and it angered Bear that it did so.
“I am weary of living in your shadow, always the talk of your brave deeds.”
“Then why don’t you stop playing the mimillu, and behave like a warrior should?” Bear blurted out before he thought and then immediately regretted it.
“I know what I am,” Raven said softly. “I can never live up to your reputation and I can never forget our mother’s death. Sometimes, at night, I think I can hear her scream and the grizzly snarl!” He put his hands over his ears in anguish.
Bear waited, feeling empathy for his tortured brother. “Sometimes, a man gets a second chance to prove himself,” he comforted, “and when that chance finally comes, I know you will behave with honor and bravery.”
“I have neither honor nor bravery,” Raven almost shouted at him, eyes blazing. “The whole camp knows that; not like you! I am less than worthless; sometimes I have to wonder why the great God, Hunyewat, spared me that day.”
How many times had they had this same discussion?
“For everything, there is a reason,” Bear said, “and someday, you will know for what purpose you were spared, even though neither of us know it now.”
“I know why I was spared,” Raven shouted, “because I had a big brother who would stand and fight with only a knife while I showed my cowardice and ran. I will always run in a crisis; I know that deep in my heart!”
Before Bear could say anything else, Raven turned and fled from the lodge. In a moment, Bear heard Raven’s Appaloosa galloping away from the camp.
He sat down by the small lodge fire and put his head in his hands. It didn’t matter to him that any woman would gasp if she ever saw him without his buckskin shirt, which Bear made sure none did. He had no time for a wife anyway until he was sure that Raven was on the right road. He had promised their dying mother he would look after his younger brother and he took his oath seriously.
Bear’s mind went to the woman Willow. He and his brother had not had all this conflict until she had shown up on the scene. She was only playing with Raven, he was sure of it. She would amuse herself with the handsome young savage, then marry some white man like the lieutenant with his fine uniform and shiny brass buttons. Perhaps she came to the camp out of a sense of duty or maybe a guilty conscience. Did she know about her own past? Did it matter?
All that mattered to Bear was that she stop amusing herself at his little brother’s expense. It could only hurt Raven deeply and this one more thing might finish him. Already, Raven drank the white man’s whiskey whenever he got the chance. Bear looked out the tipi opening and considered. Should he go confront this chit and demand that she cease pretending she wanted to educate Raven?
This needed to stop before the younger brother lost his heart to her completely. Yes, Bear was angry with her; at least, that’s all this turmoil and emotion could be. He gritted his teeth, thinking. In a few minutes, she should be back at the preacher’s house. Perhaps if Bear went there, had this out with her, she would agree to stop toying with his younger brother. Raven need never know. He would be hurt for a little while, of course, but better it should happen now before she broke his brother’s heart completely. This Willow’s heart was white and she would never seriously consider a Nez Perce husband.
Bear left the lodge and caught his Appaloosa stallion. Raven would be out riding through the hills, wearing down his anguish, and maybe drinking. It was easy enough for the young braves to get whiskey. At times like this, Raven usually didn’t return for hours; plenty of time for Bear to confront this chit and give her a piece of his mind. She would be glad to stay away from Raven when Bear finished his cold words. Bear saddled up and rode out at a leisurely pace toward town.
Billy Warton smiled at Willow as he climbed down from the buggy and went around to get the picnic basket and a quilt. Yes, he was hungry all right, but it wasn’t for food. This was a fairly isolated spot for what he had in mind.
He gave her another smile as he put the things down in the shade of a big tree, then returned to lift her from the buggy. “Isn’t this a pretty place?”
She nodded and he lifted her down. Lord, she was slender, even though she was tall for a woman. His two hands almost encircled her dainty waist. He held onto her just a moment as he set. her tiny feet on the grass, looking down at her. High, fine breasts swelled the plain green calico and he looked at the tiny buttons and wondered how much trouble they were going to be to unbutton?
“Lieutenant, you can let go now.”
“What?” He looked down at her, thinking how moist and full her lips were, how he’d like to force his tongue inside. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Willow, you were just so close and so lovely, I forgot everything else.” Billy knew what women wanted to hear. However, this one only looked skeptical and pulled out of his grasp.
She looked surprised. “A quilt?”
“I didn’t want you to get grass stains on your skirt, ma’am,” Billy said with proper respect. Or your lace petticoats, he thought. At his last post, there’d been grass stains all over that shy Emma’s drawers that had raised some awkward questions from her father. Billy was sure that was why he’d been transferred to this distant post.
“How thoughtful.” She actually smiled at him, then bent her dark head and began to unwrap the things in the picnic basket.
Billy watched her, wondering if she would fight him when he began to take her clothes off? Two years ago, at that Montana fort, that captain’s wife had fought him, but Billy had taken her anyway. She was too afraid of her husband finding out to make any complaint. Billy counted on that. Sometimes the girl gave in and if she didn’t, he raped her. It was amazing to him how easy it was to charm a woman onto her back and if he had to use a little force, she was always too humiliated or too frightened to tell anyone.
“Oh, fried quail and fresh bread,” Willow said. “Looks good.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” He knelt beside her, looking at the nape of her neck. Yes, it looked good, all right. After lunch, he would say sweet things to her and kiss the back of that neck. Then he would gradually reach around her to stroke her breasts, work on unbuttoning the little buttons at her throat. His gro
in began to ache just thinking about it. He sat down quickly and spread a napkin over his lap to cover that swelling.
She handed him a plate full of food and he bit into the juicy quail breast and thought about biting Willow’s nipples after he’d stuffed his napkin into her mouth. She seemed a delicate thing, easy to overpower.
“Oh,” Willow said, “and sponge cake with wild strawberries for dessert.”
Billy already knew what he was going to have for dessert; a sweet little mixed-blood Injun gal. He watched her pop a strawberry into her mouth and took a deep, ragged breath himself. He hadn’t realized watching a girl slowly eat strawberries could be so sensual.
His hand shook as he took a piece of the crusty fresh bread and butter. “Umm, this is good; now aren’t you glad we stopped?”
“I suppose. As you said, I had to eat anyway and this is good.”
He had never wanted a woman as badly as his body needed one now and this protected innocent was bound to be a virgin. That would make it even better. He studied her as she watched birds fly past, wishing he could skip the preliminaries, just grab her, and rip the front of her dress open. He bet she had nice tits that no man had ever tasted, and when he got her flat on her back and forced his way between her thighs, it would be like dipping his rod into deep, warm honey.
“A penny for your thoughts,” she said brightly.
“What?” Her words unnerved him. “I-I have just been thinking about food; all the good things: strawberries, warm honey, juicy, tender quail.”
She laughed and her voice was soft and musical like water running over a brook. “You know, this is more fun than I expected.”
“See? I’m just full of little surprises if you’ll just give me half a chance.”
She looked at him and her eyes were warm. “Perhaps I judged you too hastily, Lieutenant.”
“Call me Bill,” he asked softly. “I hope to get to know you much better.”
Song Of The Warrior Page 7
