Black Horse (3 page)

The fear that Black Horse might be watching her from inside his tepee was strong enough to snap her out of her trance. As a sense of panic gripped her, Meadow twirled on her heels and ran as fast as her feet would carry her away from him.

The emotions she felt were too powerful to control, and they were still too new for her to understand. But as she raced past the tepees, she was sure of one thing, one devastating thing: somehow, Black Horse knew she had been watching him when he was down at the river today.

When she reached the far side of the village, Meadow saw Gentle Water and Sings Like Sparrow working over a simmering pot at the fire pit in front of their tepee. She could not go charging up to them in this frantic state. Sings Like Sparrow was a wise old woman, and she would immediately sense that there was something wrong. The last thing Meadow wanted was to get Gentle Water in trouble. If they told the old woman what they had done today, Meadow knew that both she and Gentle Water would feel Sings Like Sparrow’s whipping stick.

Moving quickly behind the nearest lodge, Meadow wondered how she would be able to act normal, now that she knew Black Horse was staying in a tepee only a short distance from her own lodge. She had to find a place where she could be alone while she attempted to free herself of Black Horse’s memory—and cure herself of these strange new longings.

Meadow knew that most of the men would drink themselves into a stupor at the celebration to night. Even White Buffalo, who was normally a levelheaded man, would eagerly succumb to the temptation of the whiskey. If she could just stay out of sight until the men were too drunk to notice anything or anyone around them, then maybe she wouldn’t be missed.

With any luck, Black Horse would leave the village soon, and she could work on forgetting the way he had looked when he pulled his breechcloth from between his muscled legs. Meadow drew in a deep, shaky breath and glanced back toward Gentle Water and Sings Like Sparrow. They were still oblivious to her. Taking several cautious steps backward, she ducked behind the nearest tepee. How long would she have to hide and how far would she have to run to escape from the feelings Black Horse had roused in her?

If she were a man, Meadow thought with an aggravated huff, she could say she was going on a vision quest, and then she could just disappear into the forest or the mountains for as long as she wanted. When she returned, the rest of the tribe would anxiously crowd around her, wanting to hear about the mystical visions she had seen while on her spiritual journey.

She sighed in defeat. The men had it much better than the women. Many times she had dreamed of being able to jump onto the back of a horse and ride as fast as the wind across the open prairie. As a woman, however, she had little opportunity for this sort of adventure. Cooking, tanning hides, hauling water and firewood, tending children and doing all the other chores that needed to be done in the camp—this was the life of a Sioux woman.

Knowing there was no escape, Meadow decided to give up her crazy scheme to run away. She had no alternative but to go back to her own tepee and try to conceal her turmoil from White Buffalo. Sneaking toward her lodge, Meadow felt like a naughty child. She could see that nearly everyone was already gathered in the center of the village. A large fire had been
lit; several long spits held buffalo quarters that were roasting to crisp perfection. The enticing aroma filled the air and made Meadow’s mouth water. Rows of drums were lined up on one side of the fire. They would accompany the flutes and provide music for the dancers this evening. A pang of disappointment shot through Meadow’s breast. She hated the thought of missing the celebration to night. But, because of that awful Black Horse, she had no other choice!

Her chest tightened as she held her breath and hurried past his lodge. She exhaled heavily when she noticed he was nowhere in sight, then she quickly ducked through the doorway of her own tepee. Her relief grew when she saw that White Buffalo was no longer there. As she plopped down on the soft furs that made up her bed, a sense of peace settled around her. She had always felt safe in her tepee, even when there had been battles raging outside.

Fleetingly, she recalled a time when a soldier’s sword had sliced open a large hole in the side of this very same tepee. White Buffalo, younger and quicker then, had pulled the soldier away from it before he had a chance to enter. Little Squirrel had huddled with Meadow in the furs while White Buffalo had defended his home and family. Meadow glanced at the far wall where the hole, now stitched up tightly, was a grim reminder of that close brush with death.

A noise outside the tepee door drew Meadow’s attention back to the present. A familiar voice called out.

“Meadow? Are you ready to go to the celebration?” Gentle Water leaned down and entered without waiting for an invitation.

“I’m not going,” Meadow announced. She returned
Gentle Water’s look of annoyance with her own defiant one. To reinforce her position, she grabbed a colorful woven blanket and pulled it up under her chin.

Undaunted by Meadow’s display, Gentle Water chuckled. “No one will ever know what we did this afternoon.”

“He knows,” Meadow retorted. She clutched the material of the blanket tighter in her fists.

“White Buffalo knows?” Gentle Water gasped. She dropped down on her knees in front of Meadow. She was wearing her best dress, a light, fringed buckskin gown with an elaborately beaded yoke. Her leggings and moccasins were also covered with intricate beading.

“
He
knows! Black Horse knows!”

Gentle Water clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle her shocked cry. When she lowered her hand again, she whispered, “He can’t know. How is it possible?”

“He stopped me, and—and…” She shivered under the blanket when she thought of him again.

Scooting closer, Gentle Water whispered again. “Did he say if he was going to tell on us?”

“He didn’t say anything at all. He just laughed and looked at me like he wanted t-to—” Her voice grew too hoarse to speak, and she swallowed, hard.

“If he didn’t say anything to you, then how do you know that he—?”

“He knows!” Meadow interrupted. “He’s going to make us pay for spying on him. You didn’t see the way he looked at me. It was almost as if he knows everything about me.”

Meadow could tell that the tone of her voice and the
expression of fear she undoubtedly wore on her face was enough to convince Gentle Water that they had been caught. Gentle Water glanced frantically around the darkening tepee as if she hoped to find a way to escape, but Meadow sensed they were not going to get away this time.

“What are we going to do? If my grandmother hears about what we did today, she’ll have my nose cut off.”

Before Meadow had a chance to reply, the flap of the tepee swung open. White Buffalo’s grinning countenance appeared in the opening. He nodded toward Gentle Water with a friendly acknowledgment, then focused all his attention on Meadow. “
Mi-cun-ksi
! Come, I have someone important for you to meet.”

The lump that formed in Meadow’s throat prevented her from answering for several seconds. “Wh-who?” she finally asked in a raspy voice, as her stomach twisted with a sense of impending doom.

“Hurry, my daughter,” White Buffalo said as he pulled the flap wider. “Black Horse is an impatient young man.” The excitement he clearly felt over this introduction, along with the alcohol he had already consumed, made him oblivious to the tense atmosphere inside the tepee.

The blanket slipped from Meadow’s limp hands. Her terror-filled gaze settled on Gentle Water. The other girl’s look of senseless panic did nothing to reassure Meadow. She looked toward the front of the tepee and fearfully glanced through the doorway.

Black Horse stood in full view. He was dressed in a magnificent suit of clothing, including a red and yellow painted society shirt. Long locks of ebony horse
hair formed the fringe on the shirtsleeves. His leggings were beaded in shades of white and black, and a porcupine-quilled bag was tied around his waist.

Meadow’s gaze moved up to his bonnet of eagle feathers. The crown of the headdress was made from the skull of a horned buffalo. Only the strongest warriors were permitted to wear a horned bonnet, and those who did were believed to have the strength, the dignity and the stamina of a bull buffalo. Flaring out from the back of the headdress was a brilliant display of gray, white and black ea gle feathers that extended down Black Horse’s back and stopped only a couple of inches above the ground. Meadow began to tremble.

“I apologize for my daughter,” White Buffalo said to Black Horse. “She is very shy and modest,” he added.

Black Horse cast the elderly medicine man a forced smile. The faded light in the tepee did not permit him to see inside, but he was anxious to finish there so that he could continue his search for the green-eyed woman. The whiskey he had already consumed warmed his amorous nature, and the thought of the curious young white woman caused his blood to boil. His night would not be complete until he saw her again.

Feeling as though she were caught in a bear trap, Meadow reached over and grabbed Gentle Water’s arm and pulled her along as she rose up to a standing position. “You’re coming out there with me,” she said between clenched teeth. With a forceful shove she pushed the other girl out through the doorway. In her shocked state, Gentle Water stumbled out of the tepee without resis tance.

Black Horse stared at the young woman as she straightened up to face him. He nodded his head
curtly. His gaze quickly scanned her face and body. She was, he noticed, a pretty girl, and not fat like many of the Sioux women. But when he looked into her dark eyes, the memory of the woman with catlike eyes claimed his thoughts once again. His brows drew together with impatience.

“This is Gentle Water—a dear friend,” White Buffalo said in an anxious tone of voice. Then, in a proud announcement, he added, “And this is my beloved
mi-cun-ksi
, Meadow.” He grabbed Meadow’s arm as she stumbled from the tepee and pulled her up beside him.

A deafening silence followed as Meadow’s gaze ascended and settled on the face of the tall chief once again. In the brief interim of quiet, Meadow was sure her heart had stopped beating and every drop of blood in her body had just rushed into her face. She detected a slight narrowing of Black Horse’s dark eyes and a barely noticeable smirk curling one corner of his full lips. She could only imagine the thoughts that were going through his mind at this moment.

Black Horse crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his heels. His casual stance did not even begin to match the turmoil he was feeling inside. He felt his breath lodged tightly in his dry throat, and there was something fluttering wildly in his stomach like the wings of a bird. He had always prided himself on his common sense, but now his mind was spinning with the seductive things he had been thinking about ever since he had first glimpsed this woman in the bushes. But that was before he had known that she was White Buffalo’s daughter. Shy and modest…ha!

Instinctively, Black Horse glanced at White Buf
falo. He hoped the wise old medicine man was not able to guess the immodest thoughts that were filling his head at this moment. When he noticed that White Buffalo was looking at him with a look of expectation, Black Horse was overcome with embarrassment. He glanced away quickly.

The strange exchange between Black Horse and Meadow did not go unnoticed. White Buffalo assumed Black Horse’s behavior was due to surprise over seeing that his daughter was not Sioux. He had grown accustomed to this reaction throughout the years and was not hesitant to declare that Meadow was his daughter in every way, regardless of her true bloodline or the color of her skin. But he had other things on his mind right now.

“Black Horse is to be thanked,” White Buffalo said, intruding into the strained silence. “He has provided us with enough meat to fill our bellies for many sunrises. With the white man’s whiskey we will be able to forget for a time about the pain and hunger of the past few moons. He has truly given us a reason to celebrate,” White Buffalo said in an excited tone as he looked at his daughter and Gentle Water.

“My grandmother and I thank you,” Gentle Water said in a raspy tone of voice. She stepped back from the others as she bowed her head meekly and mumbled that she had to go help her grandmother, then twirled around and made a hasty retreat before anyone had a chance to stop her.

Meadow tore her attention away from the chief and stared at her father. He was still unaware of her panic,
and she knew that she must also acknowledge Black Horse’s generosity before her father became suspicious. She turned to Black Horse. His dark penetrating stare was focused directly on her again, and his mouth still wore a crooked smile. His eyes twinkled—probably in anticipation of the payback he was planning. She took a trembling breath and swallowed hard.

“Th-thank you for—for your kindness and generosity,” she murmured. His expression did not change, nor did her feeling of helplessness. Without blinking, she continued to stare up into his dark, twinkling eyes.

His patronizing attitude cut Meadow’s pride, but the humiliation she felt quickly turned to anger. They had just thanked him for the gifts he brought to the village. Yet, instead of accepting their gratitude graciously, he acted as if he wanted them to fall down to the ground and kiss his feet. She clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides. It had been wrong to spy on him today at the river, and she would readily admit this to him. But she refused to be intimidated by him now. Most of all, she would not allow him to be rude when they were in the presence of White Buffalo. She glanced back and forth between the two men. Compared to the wisdom and greatness of her father, Black Horse was nothing more than a strutting rooster.

Black Horse’s taunting grin grew even wider. The fire in this woman’s bright eyes and the scarlet blush in her pale cheeks excited him in a way he had never known. She had spirit, and he liked a feisty woman. Now, more than ever, he wanted to see how the flames of passion would also light up her face. He glanced nervously at White Buffalo. He had to break free of
the spell this woman was casting on him before he made a complete fool of himself. He was a fearless warrior, the youngest war chief in the entire Sioux Nation! Nothing could distract him when he was in battle against his enemies. Why was he letting this green-eyed woman affect him so profoundly now? Drawing on the last of his waning control, he pulled himself up to his full height and raised his chin up to a proud tilt.