At dawn, Stalking Wolf warned wearily, “We must be careful, Kionee, for One-Eye is cunning and daring. He will seek a place where he has the advantage before he halts to challenge us.”
“He knows who we are and what we have done. He is eager to slay us. Why do we not trick him?” Kionee suggested, and related her plan.
“It is a good and clever one, my love,” Stalking Wolf praised when she had finished.
Kionee apologized to Tuka for riding him so fast and hard. She thanked him for obeying her and praised his skills and strength. She gave him water in a cupped hand, then left him to graze in silence while she and Maja sat on a knoll and watched for their enemy. She, like Tuka, was fatigued from two nights and almost two days of exertions. She had to struggle to stay awake and alert, and did so with Maja’s help.
At last, she saw One-Eye coming toward them. Concealed by bushes, she knew he could not see her or glimpse the pinto behind the hill. She hoped he would not suspect them of separating and galloping around him in a wide circle to lay in wait for him. When she saw him pause and gaze over his shoulder, her hope came true. She was relieved they had guessed his eventual location with accuracy, for he had continued to ride in the same direction. With luck and Atah’s help, Stalking Wolf should be hidden behind the hill ten tall tree lengths from her position.
Suddenly her lover topped the other hill and shouted to their enemy, “Hawate-Ishte, Stalking Wolf challenges you to a death battle! Do you fear to fight me? Is that why you run from me?”
The Crow warrior reined in his horse and gaped at the unexpected sight. His mount’s forelegs reared slightly and his back legs dug into the earth when his master yanked on his bridle. The warrior grabbed an arrow and nocked it, then glanced around for his challenger’s masked companion and the ghostly wolf.
Kionee and Maja remained in their positions, so the warrior would not panic and flee in fear of being outnumbered. She noticed he was dressed in plain garments and wore no adornments on his body or in his hair; nor had he decorated his buckskin-colored horse. Those precautions were no doubt taken for his raid on the Cheyenne camp.
Stalking Wolf laughed and taunted, “You fear to fight me face-to-face? You fear my skills and courage are larger than yours? You are weak and worthless.”
“You seek to trick me again. Where are your companions?”
“They were tired in mind and body and returned to camp. Stalking Wolf will not halt his chase until One-Eye fights him.”
Kionee kept her armed bow ready to fire if Hawate-Ishte attempted to do so. Maja was poised to race toward the enemy and distract him. Both were determined that Stalking Wolf would not be harmed.
“Where is the wolf who rides with you?” One-Eye demanded.
“He is the companion of the tiva and travels only with him.”
“They tricked me two times! They are cunning but foolish. When you are dead, I will find them and slay them.”
“After our fight, Crow dog, you will be dead and seek no one to slay.”
“If the battle will be fair, between us, I will fight you.”
“You have the word of Stalking Wolf and I will honor it. Drop your bow to the ground and ride toward me. I will do the same.”
The warriors met halfway, and dismounted. Both held sharp knives in their hands. They glared at each other as each checked his opponent for strengths and weaknesses. Their gazes sent forth insults and dares. Both were fatigued, not at their best. They moved in a circle, careful not to trip one foot over the other.
Stalking Wolf halted, crouched, and bored his tawny gaze into Hawate-Ishte’s dark-brown one. He glanced at the patch and grinned, for he assumed that disability gave him an advantage. He began to move again, stepping to his right, as Hawate-Ishte’s lost eye was on the man’s left. Stalking Wolf leapt toward the enemy with the agility of a puma.
Hawate-Ishte reacted in haste, but not fast enough to avoid a slice to his left arm in passing. He whirled to face his cunning foe. He stormed forward, waving his knife in rapidly slashing motions and causing the Cheyenne to hurry backward and almost stumble. He sent forth cold, harsh, and confident laughter to unnerve the man. When that ploy failed, he tried another one to unsettle the Cheyenne. “Do you run from me like a scared rabbit from the eagle’s talons?” He used his wiggling fingers to summon his cautious opponent closer. “Come, fight me, weakling, if you have the prowess to do so.”
Stalking Wolf charged the man, deflected a blow, and slammed his lowered shoulder into Hawate-Ishte’s chest. One-Eye was thrown to the grass, but he did a quick and nimble roll-over and bounded to his feet. As he did so, Stalking Wolf pursued and kicked at the hand holding a weapon, but One-Eye held on tight to it. The Cheyenne flung himself upon the unsteady man, and both hit the ground. They tumbled, scuffled, kicked, and pounded with hard fists. Sweat poured from their bodies. Dirt and grass clung to their hair and wet flesh and stained their garments.
Kionee stood to see better. Her heart pounded in trepidation. Her mouth and lips went dry. Her gaze was fixed to the fierce confrontation. She could not allow her lover to be slain, so she lifted her bow in readiness. Yet, she held to her difficult position, having promised Stalking Wolf she would not intrude on his challenge. To do so would make it appear as if she doubted his ability to win.
Maja’s muscles were taut with the strain of controlling the urge to race to the scene to help his friend. He would attack the instant Kionee’s signal was given, or before it if one seemed too slow in coming to save his friend.
Hawate-Ishte straddled Stalking Wolf and raised his knife to plunge it into the man’s heart. The Cheyenne imprisoned his enemy’s right wrist between his hands. The Crow used his left hand to give his right one more strength to lower the deadly blade. The sharp point came closer and closer to Stalking Wolfs chest, almost provoking Kionee and Maja to rescue him. The Cheyenne arched his back and thrust upward with force, sending the Crow toppling over his head. Stalking Wolf scrambled to his hands and knees, then stood.
Hawate-Ishte had done the same. In bent positions, they hurled themselves at each other. Their muscles bulged, their armed hands cramped from gripping knives so long and tight. Stalking Wolf nicked the man’s shoulder, and avoided a slash to his side in the process. As they bumped and struggled, Stalking Wolf’s deft fingers ripped off the patch covering Hawute-Ishte’s eye and he gazed into an empty socket. Reflexively, the Crow’s left hand darted upward to cover the gaping hole and his right one lowered a little; that action slowed Hawate-Ishte long enough for Stalking Wolf to defeat him and take his life.
“Hawate-Ishte took the lives of Big Hump’s daughter and her white-skinned mate,” the Crow taunted with his last breaths. “They were my first coups. He is the one who stole my eye. If they had not hidden you, Stalking Wolf would be dead…or he would be my adopted son.” He extended a bloody arm skyward. “Hear me, Isaahkawuattee, I come to join you. Punish the mixedblood who slayed Your creation.”
Stalking Wolf gaped at the dead man in silent shock at his words. He cut off the medicine pouch around Hawate-Ishte’s neck and dumped its contents on the man’s stomach. Among them was a lock of blond hair secured by a narrow thong. He saw a gold circle with a strange tie on it. Without a doubt, Hawate-Ishte was the one who had slain his parents.
“Are you harmed?” Kionee asked in worry as she knelt beside him, for he had not risen and his expression was odd.
Stalking Wolf shook his head. He related what the Crow had told him and what he had found. He lifted the hairlock and watched sun brighten its yellow shade. He clutched it in his hand, closed his eyes, and said, “Adam Stone and Morning Flower are avenged. The visions of Stalking Wolf and Medicine Eyes have come to pass. There is only one part of the vision which remains: I am to take a mate this season. I have found the woman I love and desire. Our joining will come to pass before winter covers our land.”
Kionee placed a trembling hand on his arm and tried to clear his head of false hopes, though it pained her deeply to
do so. “That is your destiny, Stalking Wolf, but it is not mine. I was chosen to help you fulfill it but not become a part of your life. I do not see how we can join; I wish it was not true with all my heart, but too much stands between us.”
“The trail will be cleared for us by Maheoo, He you call Atah. He crossed our paths. He gave us the same spirit sign. He gave us love and desire for each other. We have fulfilled His sacred messages to me and to our shaman; He will reward us.”
“I am not Cheyenne, not one of Maheoo’s people. I cannot leave my rank and duty until Atah changes my destiny. He has not done so.”
“He will,” Stalking Wolf murmured with confidence.
“Do not allow your belief in the visions and your desire for me to cause you to say or do anything to expose us,” Kionee warned. “If you hope discovery will change matters for us, it will not and many will suffer. Swear to me you will not trample a law you do not understand and accept, as I would not trample you. To do so is selfish and wrong; it will bring great harm to me, my family, and my people.”
“I will guard our secret,” he vowed.
“Do so and you will not injure my trust and love.” Or imperil me.
“We must go trick the Crow and return to our camp,” he said to alter their line of thought and to end their tormenting words. He gathered the items he wanted before loading Hawate-Ishte’s body onto the man’s horse.
“I have all we need to trick them,” Kionee assured him. “But first, we must eat and sleep.”
“I know where we will camp until the sun rises. Come, my love. We will lie together before we challenge Swift Crane’s band.”
Kionee was eager to join with him, as they would look into the face of death again soon.
18
AS MAJA GUARDED THEIR privacy and their enemy’s body from nocturnal scavengers, Kionee and Stalking Wolf surrendered to their soaring passions, rejoicing in the absolute wonder of their love.
Kionee felt the sleek strands of his golden-brown hair as she twirled them around her fingers. She wished she could look into his tawny gaze, but the moon did not yield enough light. Yet, her mind’s eye could envision his features, and her fingers and lips could roam them with ardor. She relished his slow kisses and seductive caresses. Of their own volition, her arms looped around his neck and drew his mouth closer and tighter to hers. There was not a spot on her that did not burn or quiver with longing and pleasure. She cherished this man with all of her heart and soul. She could think of no thrill greater than being his lover. She responded to the signal from his nudging hand to part her thighs so he could tease and tantalize her very core. She moaned in rapture as his finger slipped within her, delving, thrusting, moistening her. This time, he continued until rhythmic spasms of ecstasy assailed her. She moaned and thrashed and drew every drop of splendor from that new experience.
Stalking Wolf brushed his fingers over her rib cage and traveled the curves and planes of her pliant body. She was caressing his shoulders, arms, and back with feather-light but highly arousing gestures. He ached to bury himself inside her, but he did not want to rush as he had been forced to do so the last time. His fingers dove into the shiny and thick waves of her black hair, and reveled in the freedom from their braided bonds. Her lips brushed kisses over his neck, throat, and face while he did the same with hers. He loved feeling her naked flesh next to his, and it made him wild to have nothing between them. His mouth captured her breast and claimed its nipple. He kissed, teethed, and brought it to full attention.
Kionee savored the magic of his deft tongue and hands. Another blast of searing heat stormed her body, one so potent and demanding and swift that it astonished her. She felt the hardness and erotic heat of his desire against her hip. “Come to me, my love,” she coaxed.
Stalking Wolf moved atop her, the force of his weight controlled. She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him close. His mouth melded as he slid the tip of his manhood into her, paused a moment to draw a deep and needed breath for renewed restraint, then thrust further and deeper until he was totally concealed by her soft, wet heat.
Kionee trailed her fingers over his back. She felt the muscles in his firm buttocks contracting and relaxing with each thrust. It was as if she were staked naked beneath a blazing sun and it was burning her to willing ashes. She matched his pace and pattern, clinging to him, almost ravishing his mouth, refusing to allow him to withdraw for any distance or any length of time.
Stalking Wolfs ravenous appetite for her heightened as she welcomed him deeper and deeper into her honeyed core. Nothing could have seized his attention at that moment, so enrapt was he by her and their wild joining.
A landslide of pleasure tumbled over them and carried the couple away as they found their release. Their greedy mouths and hands continued to send sweet messages of satisfaction, happiness, and serenity to each other. They remained cuddled for a long time; both knew that precious moments like these were few and far between. Finally, exhausted and sated, they slept.
Kionee took a position atop a high hill. She was clad in the regalia of a spirit warrior and sitting astride White Cloud, who was adorned with sacred symbols and items. Maja stood beside them on stiff alert. On her other side was the horse of Hawate-Ishte, his body lying across its back. There was just enough daylight left for her to be seen. She shouted, “Apsalooke!” several times to seize the Crows’ attention.
It did not take long for the Crow band to gather at the base of the hill, where she halted them with commands and signs in their language. Some had snatched up burning torches to help them see in the darkness which was trying to blanket the land. She heard the murmurs of “Tset-acu-tsi-cikyata” and “Chia cheete”: “The-Wolf-Mask-Wearer” and “Silver wolf.” She prayed they would be too frightened or awed to doubt and attack her. If so, she and Maja would discard the trick and flee.
“I bring you the body of Hawate-Ishte.” She watched their expressions and movements closely for any hint of a challenge. “Hawate-Ishte daase xawiia.” She explained how One-Eye’s “heart” was “bad” and how he had disobeyed Old Man Coyote’s warnings. “Do not attack Hanueva; Iichihkbaahile and His spirits protect them. I was sent to Hawate-Ishte two times to give him the Creator’s messages. He broke his word and raided the Hanueva again. He is dead and punished; those who followed him are dead and punished. All who defy Iichihkbaahile will be punished, too. Other Crow bands accept the words of the Creator; the band of Swift Crane defies them. That is wrong and dangerous; it will destroy you.”
She pointed northward and said, “Dee asshiia Bahkashua Aashkaate,” telling them to leave this place and to go camp on Cottonwood Creek. “Do not ride away from the cold wind direction to raid and kill Hanuevas. If you do so, the Creator will hide the buffalo from your eyes and skills; He will destroy the sacred tobacco plants; He will turn his face from you. Hawate-Ishte is gone; let his evil die with him; let no other follow his bad trail and ways.” She smacked the enemy’s horse on the rump and sent it trotting down the incline and into the crowd. She watched braves capture its bridle and stare at the lifeless body.
Kionee motioned to the camp and said, “Hawate-Ishte ashtaale alaxiia.” She had glimpsed the smoke and knew One-Eye’s tipi was burning. As prearranged, Stalking Wolf had set it ablaze as an intimidation. When everyone turned to look in that direction, she and Maja slipped over the hill and out of sight, leaving no tracks because of the furry pelts that were tied to the horse’s hooves and wolf’s feet.
As they hurried into the shadows which had closed in, her ears caught shouts of “Bilee!”: “Fire!” She had assumed with accuracy the tribe would race to save its camp, unaware only one man’s tipi was being destroyed. Her love’s clever distraction gave her and Maja time to escape. They headed for the location where Stalking Wolf was to join them.
Kionee was relieved they did not have to wait long to learn he had gotten away without being seen. She listened as he revealed how he had removed sleeping children without awakening them before t
orching the tipi. She was happy he did not feel a need to punish the man’s family.
“A storm comes soon,” Stalking Wolf observed. “We must hurry to be out of its path. It will cover any tracks we make. The Crow will believe the storm is a bad sign, a warning meant to push them from this place. After we move our tipis, our camps will be far apart. They should not raid us again during the hunt.”
“That brings happiness to my heart, Stalking Wolf.”
“You bring happiness to my heart, my love.”
“As you do to mine,” she responded before they kissed and embraced.
They loaded their belongings and rode as fast as the light permitted with Maja scouting for them. They did not halt to sleep until they were a safe distance from the storm-drenched enemy camp. They cuddled together on one mat, sharing kisses and caresses. They yearned to yield to their searing passions but felt it was not the time or place. A violent storm often spooked buffalo or antelope and caused them to stampede, so they had to remain clothed and ready to react to such a peril.
Kionee, Stalking Wolf, and Maja reached camp at dusk on the eighth night after their hasty departure. He related the news of One-Eye’s defeat, the man’s guilt for slaying his parents, and how they had tricked Swift Crane’s band into moving farther northward. He held up Hawate-Ishte’s eye patch and shield for his family and friends to view. An enemy warrior of great prowess and high rank, the taking of such possessions and the man’s defeat were great coups. The rest of the Cheyenne party had returned days ago with the stolen horses, the Crows’ mounts, and the enemies’ weapons. A celebration was planned for that night to honor the seven victors and Maja and to chant their recent coups.
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