Feather in the Wind (19 page)

Susannah nodded. It had been seven weeks since the night they had made love in the glen. She had known that night that their union would produce a child, and now she was certain.

She withdrew her hand from his thigh, stung by his silence, by his apparent disapproval. “Don’t you want a baby?”

“Of course, but…” He shook his head. A child. It was too soon, and his life was too unsettled. If an agreement could not be reached with the Army, the Lakota would soon be at war. He felt Susannah watching him, waiting for him to say something. He glanced over his shoulder, then met her eyes. “We will talk of it later, when we are alone.”

“Fine.” Blinking back her tears, Susannah urged Hildy into a lope. She was glad when Black Wind let her go. She needed to be alone.

He didn’t want the baby. She let her tears fall, felt them dry on her face as the warm wind brushed her cheeks. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him so soon. Maybe she should have waited until they were alone. It wouldn’t have changed anything, she told herself angrily. If he didn’t want it, then he didn’t want it, but there was nothing she could do about it. She was pregnant and that was that…

Oh Lord, pregnant! The Indian women didn’t have doctors and hospitals. They had midwives and tipis. And she’d always been such a coward, determined to be out cold if she ever had a baby. Natural childbirth in a hospital was one thing she had never wanted to experience; natural childbirth in an Indian village was unthinkable, frightening beyond words. What if there was a problem? So many things could go wrong during childbirth…the baby could come early, the baby could die, she could die…

“Su-san-nah.”

She turned toward the sound of his voice. She’d been so lost in a nightmare of her own making, she hadn’t even been aware of him beside her.

“What is wrong?”

“I’m afraid! I don’t want to have a baby, not out here.”

One look at Susannah’s face, and Tate Sapa decided they would camp where they were for the night. There were a few trees for shelter, a small stream would provide water. He sent the other men off to see if they could find fresh meat, then lifted Susannah from the back of her horse and sheltered her in his arms.

“What is it,
wastelakapi
?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not ready to be a mother!” She clutched at his shirt, her fingers curling around the material. “I don’t know anything about babies. You don’t want it, and I don’t want to have it out here, in the wilderness.”

“Su-san-nah…”

“No, no, I’m afraid. I’ve always been afraid.”

“Su-san-nah, it will be all right. Our women have strong healthy babies. They will help you when the time comes.”

“You don’t want it. I thought you’d be glad.”

“I am glad.” Lightly, he stroked her hair. “I hope to give you many children. Many sons.”

She looked up at him, her gaze searching his. He meant it. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. “Sons?” she repeated with a teasing smile.

“Sons.”

Susannah folded her arms over her stomach in an age-old protective gesture. “It could be a girl.”

“She will be welcome.”

“You’re not mad then?”

“No, Su-san-nah, how could I be angry?” His eyes smiled at her. “You did not make this child by yourself.” He dragged the tip of his finger down her cheek. “It is not the child that concerns me.”

“It’s the timing, isn’t it? You’d rather it hadn’t happened now.”

Tate Sapa nodded. “I would have hoped our child would be born in a time of peace.” A deep sigh escaped his lips. “But I fear those times are gone from us.”

Susannah rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

She didn’t know a great deal about history, but she was afraid Black Wind was right. He held her close, as if he could shield her and their child from the trouble that was sure to come.

That first day set the pattern for the rest. They rose early, rode until noon, stopped to eat and rest the horses, rode another few hours, stopped to rest the horses, then rode until dusk. They always found a campsite located near a waterhole or a stream but never camped too close to the source of the water.

“We do not want to scare away the animals that come to drink,” Tate Sapa explained when Susannah asked why they didn’t camp closer to the river. “Our enemies, too, may stop here for water. It is safer not to be too close.”

“Enemies?”

“The Crow.”

Susannah glanced around, as if expecting to see a hundred warriors descending on them. “Here?”

“They often sneak into our land to steal our horses.”

At her stricken look, Tate Sapa grinned. “They are our ancient enemies, Su-san-nah. They steal from us, and we steal from them. It is considered a great coup, to steal an enemy’s war horse.”

“Really?” she asked weakly. She thought of the horse Tate Sapa kept tethered near their lodge. “Sounds dangerous.”

“It can be.”

“Have you ever stolen from the Crow?”

Tate Sapa nodded. “When I was a young warrior, my friend and I went into the land of the Crow. We captured two war ponies, then drove off the Crow horse herd. The Old Ones made a song for us, and our parents held a giveaway to honor our bravery.”

“You don’t do things like that anymore, do you?”

“Not too often.”

In the evenings, the men told stories. Sometimes they spoke of battles, sometimes they told funny stories, and sometimes they told what Susannah thought of as Lakota Bible stories. One of her favorites was the Lakota version of the creation.

Genesis began “In the beginning…” and so did Black Wind’s story.

“In the beginning,” he said, “there was
Inyan
, who dwelled with
Hanhepi
, the Darkness.
Inyan
was soft but without form, but he was all powerful and he was everywhere. His powers were in his blood, and his blood was blue. His spirit was
Wakán Tanka
.

“
Inyan
wanted to use his powers to rule others, but there were no others, and so he took a part of himself and created
Maka
, the Earth. But he used so much of himself that his veins opened and his blood flowed, and his blood became the waters of the earth. The powers could not live in the water, so they became the great blue dome of the sky and became
Skan
.

“After a time,
Maka
grew angry because she was not a separate being, but a part of
Inyan
. She said she could not control the waters, and she could not see herself because it was always dark. She demanded that
Inyan
banish
Hanhepi
, but
Inyan
replied that he had used all his blood in creating her and now he was powerless.

“
Maka
took her complaint to
Skan
, who divided
Hanhepi
in two halves—one remained in darkness and was banished to the regions under the earth. The other half became
Anpetu
, the Light and commanded that she make all things visible. And now there was light everywhere, but no shadow and no heat.

“
Maka
saw herself and cried that she was cold and ugly. Then she saw the blue waters and divided them into lakes and seas and rivers and used them to adorn herself.

“But she was still unhappy, and she complained to
Skan
that she was tired of the brightness, and she was cold. So
Skan
created
Wi
, the Sun, and he placed
Wi
above the blue dome and commanded him to shine and give heat.

“But there was still unrest.
Maka
complained that the world was too hot, and asked
Skan
to bring
Hanhepi
back to the world to give relief from the sun. And
Wi
complained that he had no rest. So
Skan
decreed that there should be night time and day time, and
Wi
should rule over the day, and
Hanwi
, the Moon, would rule over the night.

“And so there were four Sacred Beings—
Skan, Inyan, Maka
, and
Wi
, and these four became
Wakán Tanka
, which no one can understand.
Skan
became the source of all power, and his domain was everywhere;
Wi
became the chief of the Sacred Beings; from
Maka
would come all creatures of the world;
Inyan
ruled over the rocks and mountains. Colors were assigned to each of the powers:
Inyan’s
color was yellow,
Maka’s
was green,
Wi’s
was red, and
Skan’s
was the blue of the sky.”

Feeling as content as a child after a bedtime story, Susannah curled up in Tate Sapa’s arms and went to sleep.

Chapter Nineteen

Seven days later, they reached the appointed place. Tate Sapa and his men had dressed with care for the occasion, donning their best clouts, moccasins, leggings and shirts.

Susannah wore an ankle-length doeskin dress that was as soft as velvet. There was a bright red sash at her waist.

Her gaze moved lovingly over Black Wind. He looked every inch the proud warrior in fringed leggings, a wolf-skin clout, and a shirt that had been bleached white. Long fringe dangled from the sleeves, the yoke had been beaded in yellow and black.

Her gaze lingered on the black and white eagle feather tied in his hair. It reminded her of the photograph she had bought at the POW WOW, which reminded her of home. She wished she had some way of notifying her parents and letting them know she was all right.

If time passed in the future at the same rate it did in the past, then she was in deep trouble with her editor, her landlord had most likely boxed up her clothing, put her furniture in storage (or sold it!) and rented her apartment to someone else, and everyone she knew must think she had met with foul play or dropped off the end of the earth…

All Susannah’s worries about home fled her mind, replaced by a sense of foreboding, when she saw the two large tents set up in the grassy hollow between two gently sloping hills. Flags fluttered in the breeze that blew over the prairie. Horses were tethered to ropes strung between trees; numerous blue-clad men could be seen engaged in various activities.

She heard Black Wind mutter something under his breath. Following his gaze, she saw several Indians dressed in the garb of Indian police.

“I don’t think we should go down there,” Susannah said. She placed her hand on Black Wind’s arm. “Let’s go back.”

Tate Sapa shook his head. “I must try for peace one last time, Su-san-nah.”

“How far is the fort from here?”

“Not far.” He pointed eastward. “No more than a hard day’s ride.”

“Then the Micklins are close by?”

“That way,” Tate Sapa said, pointing over his shoulder.

Somehow, knowing that Hester and Abe were nearby made Susannah feel better.

“Ready?” Black Wind asked.

She wasn’t, but there was nothing to be gained in delaying any longer.

Tate Sapa gave her a smile of encouragement, then led the way down the hill.

“Riders comin’!”

The shout went up from one of the troopers as they approached the encampment. There was the sound of a bugle. Soldiers grabbed their weapons and formed a line, standing at attention.

Susannah stared at the tall, gray-haired man who emerged from the larger of the two tents. It was none other than Colonel William Henry O’Neill, who had once accused her of being a spy.

“Just like old home week,” Susannah muttered as she reined her horse to a halt. Silently, she prayed that the colonel would not recognize her since she was dressed like a Lakota woman. Her hair had grown a little longer in the last few months, the sun had turned her skin a dark golden brown.

Colonel O’Neill stepped forward, followed by his interpreter.

“Tell them I bid my Sioux brothers welcome,” O’Neill said, his voice stiff and formal.

Tate Sapa nodded curtly. “I understand your language.”

“Oh, well, that’s good,” the Colonel replied. He dismissed the interpreter with a wave of his hand.

Dismounting, Tate Sapa lifted Susannah from the back of her horse.

“Where are your chiefs?” O’Neill asked. “Why didn’t they come with you?”

“They sent me in their place. I will carry your words back to them.”

“I see.”

It was obvious to Susannah that O’Neill was upset by the news, but he covered it well. “You’re just in time for dinner,” he said. “Maxwell, Wilkinson, see to their horses.”

Two troopers stepped forward and led the horses away.

Susannah kept her head down as she followed Black Wind into a large tent. The other warriors followed. Three soldiers brought up the rear.

A table large enough to seat six people occupied the center of the tent. “Please, sit down.” The colonel gestured to one of the chairs.

Tate Sapa glanced around the tent, then sat down in the chair that faced the entrance. He placed his rifle on the ground, within easy reach. Susannah stood to his left, the warriors to his right.

O’Neill looked at Susannah. “Please, have a seat.”

She did so reluctantly, afraid to refuse for fear of drawing undue attention to herself. Thus far, she didn’t think the colonel had really paid her any mind.

“Do your braves also speak English?” O’Neill asked.

“No.”

“Tell them to join us.”

“They prefer to stand.”

O’Neill looked momentarily taken aback, then he shrugged and took a seat across from Tate Sapa. Minutes later, the Colonel’s striker entered the tent bearing a large tray. The scent of venison filled the air when the striker removed the tray’s cover, revealing a half-dozen thick steaks and all the trimmings.

Susannah couldn’t help being impressed with how well the colonel ate, even out in the middle of nowhere.

The colonel’s striker served the food, then left the tent. It was a silent meal. Susannah could feel the tension coming off Black Wind and the warriors in waves.

The warriors ate standing up. Ignoring the silverware, they ate with their knives. They glanced repeatedly at the tent flap, making her wonder if they expected to be attacked. And then she remembered that such things had happened frequently in the past. Indians had often been invited to meet with the Army. Some had been poisoned. Some had been shot. Perhaps they were right to be cautious.

Susannah slid a glance at Black Wind, wondering if he had ever eaten a meal at a table before. And then she realized that he was watching her from the corner of his eye, observing how she used her knife and fork.

Colonel O’Neill did not offer his men anything to eat. They stood at attention to one side of the tent door, their gazes fixed on the tent wall.

When the meal was over and the dishes cleared away, O’Neill filled a pipe and offered it to Tate Sapa, who took a puff and passed it to one of his men. When all the men had smoked, the colonel put the pipe away.

“Now, then,” he said brusquely, “let’s get down to business. You understand, business?”

“I understand,” Tate Sapa replied, his voice equally curt.

“Good. I came here today to establish peace with your people.”

“The Lakota are at peace,” Tate Sapa replied evenly.

O’Neill nodded. “Yes, of course, but we want your assurances that our people will not be attacked for crossing your land. More and more settlers are arriving every day. Your people must stop attacking the wagon trains. The settlers must be allowed safe passage to the West.”

“My people have attacked no settlers.”

O’Neill looked skeptical. “Two wagon trains were attacked in the last month. The people were massacred, their stock stolen, the wagons burned.”

“I cannot speak for the other tribes. Nor can I blame them for defending their hunting grounds.”

A dark-red flush stained the colonel’s cheeks. “Be that as it may, I want your words that your people will not attack the settlers.”

“And do I have your word in return that they will not hunt in our territory, or attack our village?”

“Well, you can’t expect them not to hunt,” O’Neill replied. “They’ve got to eat.”

“The buffalo herds are growing smaller. The
wasichu
kill more than they need, and leave what they do not want to rot in the sun. They cross the plains with their noisy wagons and chase away the game. They muddy the water and dig in the earth for yellow iron. These things must stop.”

“See here, you can’t lay claim to the plains in their entirety.”

“This is our land. We will allow you to cross it if you do not take from it what is not yours.”

Anger flickered in the colonel’s gray eyes. He stared hard at Tate Sapa. “I thought you came here to speak for peace.”

Tate Sapa nodded. “It is my wish that my people be allowed to live as they have always lived. We want nothing you have. All we ask is that you do not take what is ours.”

O’Neill blew out a deep breath, then stood up. “I think we should discuss this again tomorrow, after we’ve all had a good night’s sleep.”

Tate Sapa stood up. “There is nothing more to discuss.”

“I think there is, when heads are cooler.” O’Neill smiled, but Susannah thought it looked rather forced. “Please, stay here and rest. Is there anything you need?”

Tate Sapa shook his head.

“Very well.” With a curt nod, O’Neill stalked out of the tent, followed by his men.

“You were right, Su-san-nah,” Tate Sapa said. “We should not have come here.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“We are leaving this place. I will tell our chiefs to be prepared to fight. It is what the
wasichu
want. They do not want peace. They want our land, and they will not rest until they have it.”

“There must be another way,” Susannah said, but she knew what he said was true. The government and the settlers would drive the Indians from their lands, pen them on reservations. Crooked Indian agents would steal their food allotments and swindle them out of reservation land, as well. She wished she knew how to change history, wished there was something she could do to make the future better for the Lakota, but she was powerless to help. The fate of the Indians had been sealed long before she was born.

She listened while Black Wind spoke to his warriors. They nodded, their faces dark with anger, as he told them what the colonel had said.

“Come,” Black Wind said, taking up his rifle. “We go.”

Darkness had fallen. Small campfires glowed like fireflies.

Susannah stayed close to Black Wind as they started toward the horses, which had been tethered near the Army mounts.

“Hey, there, where do you think you’re going?”

Tate Sapa turned around. “We are leaving.”

“I don’t think so,” the soldier said, lifting his rifle. “Colonel wants to talk some more.”

“We are through talking.”

“Drop your weapons. Hackett, go get the colonel.”

Susannah was standing close to Black Wind. She could feel the tension radiating from him as he glanced around the camp. Several soldiers had risen to their feet. All were armed, their expressions hostile. She had the feeling they were just itching for a reason to shoot.

A moment later, Colonel O’Neill was striding toward them.

“One of my men tells me you want to leave. Is this true?”

Tate Sapa nodded. “There is nothing more to discuss.”

“I’m afraid I must insist you stay.”

“And if I refuse?”

The colonel smiled. It was a cold smile, one that did not reach his eyes. “I don’t think you want to do that, now do you?”

Tate Sapa’s hands tightened on his rifle as a dozen soldiers gathered around them, circling like wolves around a kill.

“Why don’t we all go back into the tent and see if we can’t reach an understanding.”

“You have made your feelings quite clear,” Tate Sapa replied. “As always, the white man wants everything his way, and will do whatever is necessary to obtain it.”

“Now, now, we’re willing to give your people food and blankets in return for their guarantee not to harass the settlers.”

“I know of other tribes who have made treaties with the whites. Their people went cold, their young ones starved to death, while waiting for blankets and food that never came.”

O’Neill stiffened. “Occasionally that happens.”

“Occasionally? Every tribe that deals with the white man loses his freedom and ends up on the reservation. I will not let that happen to my people.”

“Have I said anything about the reservation?”

“Not yet.”

Susannah kept her head lowered, watching the confrontation from the corner of her eye. She felt a wave of apprehension as O’Neill stared at her. Recognition came slowly. “Ah, Miss Kingston, I believe.”

With a sigh of resignation, Susannah looked up.

“I thought it was you,” O’Neill remarked, looking pleased. “I knew you were a traitor. Take her to my tent.”

“No. She is my woman and under my protection.”

“She is a traitor and will be dealt with as such.”

Susannah cried out as one of the soldiers reached for her.

Tate Sapa reacted instinctively. Lifting his rifle, he sighted down the barrel and fired at the man who was trying to drag Susannah away.

With a cry, the man dropped Susannah’s arm and crumpled to the ground, his hands clutching his shoulder. Immediately, every soldier in the vicinity was in the fray. Two men grabbed Susannah and hauled her toward the colonel’s tent. Shoving her inside, they warned her to stay put, then shut the door flap.

The sound of gunshots made Susannah cringe with fear. She heard shouting, the high-pitched yelp of a man in pain, hoofbeats, and then everything grew still.