Feather in the Wind (30 page)

But for once, the magic was gone. All she could think about was Black Wind. She knew he was considering what the old man had said, that he was deciding whether to stay in the present or return to the past. Had he been at home, in his own time, he would have gone up into the Black Hills to ask
Wakán Tanka
for guidance. Where would he go now?

Switching off the computer, she went into the bedroom and stretched out on the bed. Feeling empty and alone, she stared up at the ceiling. If he wanted to go back, she wouldn’t try to stop him. As much as she needed him, as much as she would miss him, she wanted his happiness more than her own, and he if could not be happy here, then she would let him go…

She couldn’t stifle the sob that rose in her throat as she thought of what it would be like to live without him. Though he had been there but a short time, he was already woven into the fabric of her life. She fell asleep in his arms every night, woke to his kisses in the morning. His clothes hung beside hers in the closet, his toothbrush rested beside hers in the medicine cabinet. When she was working, she was ever aware of his presence in the other room. More than once, a quick lunch break had turned into an hour spent in his arms.

She felt her tears flow harder, faster. She liked having him there, liked cooking for him, caring for him. Sometimes, at night, they sat side by side on the sofa and he listened to what she had written during the day. Occasionally, he made suggestions or corrected a misconception about Lakota customs or traditions. How could she let him go, knowing she would never see him again?

“Su-san-nah, why do you weep?”

Looking up, she saw Black Wind standing in the doorway. Her gaze moved over him lovingly, admiring the smooth copper color of his skin, the ebony fall of his hair, the width of his shoulders, his long, long legs. How could she face the future without him?

“I’m not crying.” She sniffed, blinking back her tears. “I thought you were going for a walk.”

Tate Sapa sat down on the edge of the bed and touched his forefinger to the tear slipping down her cheek. “Are these tears of joy then?”

Susannah shook her head. “You’re going to go back, aren’t you?” She sat up, drying her eyes with a corner of the bedspread. “Aren’t you?”

He shook his head, his long black hair moving like a dark cloud about his shoulders. And then he blew out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his being. “No.”

“No?” Exhilaration spread through her like summer sunlight, chasing away the shadows of despair, filling her with warmth. “What changed your mind?”

“You.” With infinite tenderness, he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “I started to go for a walk, Su-san-nah, but I missed you at my side and when I turned back, I saw your house, with the light shining through the windows, and I knew that my future was here, with you. I could not live without my heart, Su-san-nah. I could not live without my soul. Both belong to you.”

She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat, knew that never before had she loved him so much.

He smiled faintly as he lowered one hand and placed it over the gentle swell of her belly. “Our child will need a father. I will stay here and teach him what it means to be a warrior. With your help, I will learn to read and write and I will do as Hehaka Luta said. I will record the history of the Lakota nation as I know it. I must go to the reservation and try to help my people, as my uncle said. Perhaps he will come with me.” He gathered Susannah into his arms. “With us.”

He gazed into Susannah’s eyes, thinking how beautiful she was, how very much he loved her, needed her.

“Will you come with me, Su-san-nah?” he asked quietly. “Will you teach me the things I must learn to help my people?”

“You know I will,” she replied fervently. “I’ll go anywhere you want to go, teach you anything I can.” She smiled up at him. “And what I don’t know, I’ll find out.”

“When I saw you in my vision, I knew you would change my life,” he said, his heart swelling with tenderness. “Truly,
Wakán Tanka
has blessed me.”

“And me. Do you know how much I love you?”

“Perhaps you should show me.”

“I will,” she promised. “Every day of our lives together.”

“Starting today?”

“Starting right now,” she murmured, and lifted her face for his kiss, and in that kiss was the promise of a lifetime.

Epilogue

South Dakota

Five years later

Susannah sat in the shade on the front porch, her six-month-old daughter, Carrie Lynn, sleeping peacefully in her arms. She was an adorable child, with a wealth of curly black hair, dark brown eyes and a dimple in her chin.

Rocking gently, Susannah sighed with soul-deep contentment. It was a beautiful day in early spring and life had never been better. Her children were happy and healthy, the ranch was prospering, and she had just signed a new four-book contract with her publisher that included a sizeable advance.

A noise in the yard drew her attention. She smiled as her gaze met Black Wind’s. She had never gotten used to calling him Daniel; to her, he would always be Black Wind. Dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, a black t-shirt, scuffed black boots and a black Stetson, he looked devilishly handsome.

He stood in the midst of at least a dozen boys ranging in age from four to ten, teaching them how to fletch an arrow. Her oldest son, Daniel, stood beside his father. He wore jeans and a t-shirt and a Stetson hat, just like his daddy’s. There was a look of pride on his handsome young face as he listened to every word his father said. Her two-year-old son, Jason, was perched on Hehaka Luta’s shoulders, his chin resting on the older man’s head. Both boys had their father’s straight black hair, dark eyes and copper-hued skin.

The last five years had brought Susannah more happiness than she had ever dreamed possible. Shortly after Black Wind decided to stay in the present, they had moved to Hehaka Luta’s ranch in South Dakota. They had completely remodeled the old house, putting on a new roof, modernizing the kitchen, adding on a new master bedroom with a built-in fireplace and a walk-in closet, and a new bathroom. They had built a new barn and replaced the old corrals, planted trees and flowers. Young Daniel and his friends often spent the night in the Lakota lodge in the backyard. A favorite game was cowboys and Indians; of course, it was hard to find someone willing to play the part of the cowboys. It went without saying that the Indians always won.

Susannah smoothed back a wisp of her daughter’s hair. Somehow, amidst all the confusion of the move and the remodeling and childbirth, she had managed to write three historical romances; the last one, loosely based on her adventures in the past, had made the
New York Times
bestseller list.

Between them, Black Wind and Hehaka Luta had managed to bring hope and a small measure of prosperity to some of the families on the reservation. With the help of men from Pine Ridge, they raised cattle and horses, as well as a few head of buffalo for old times’ sake. The cattle provided a steady supply of beef for the reservation, the horses were sold, with the profits being equally divided amongst the ranch hands. She loved to watch Black Wind work with the wild ones, watch him gentle them with his hands and his voice. He rode with an innate grace and skill that was beautiful to watch, never breaking a colt’s spirit, never losing his temper, never rushing a horse into something it wasn’t ready for.

Every Saturday morning, boys and girls from the reservation came out to the ranch to spend the day. In the summer, Black Wind and Hehaka Luta often took the kids fishing or backpacking. Sometimes they put on a rodeo or went for picnics in the meadow. Black Wind had become a surrogate father to several fatherless boys who usually spent their summers and weekends at the ranch. They were in the process of adopting a three-year-old girl whose parents had been killed in a drunk-driving accident. They had taken in a teenage runaway who had sought shelter at the ranch for a night and never went home.

Once Black Wind had decided to stay in the future, he had adapted to the twentieth century with astonishing speed. They had been married in a private ceremony before they left L.A. so there would be no question later about Daniel’s parentage or legitimacy. Susannah had taught Black Wind to read and write, and in his spare time, he was writing the history of his people as it had been told to him. He had picked up on local slang; she had learned to speak Lakota. Their oldest son spoke both languages fluently.

Black Wind had learned to drive a car, although he much preferred driving the big black four-by-four she had bought for him last Christmas. He could whip up a gourmet meal in the microwave, change a diaper and, if necessary, do a load or two of wash when she had a deadline to meet.

Susannah felt a familiar tingle of happiness bubble up within her as Black Wind left the group and walked toward her. He was still the most handsome man she had ever seen. More than one teenage girl on the reservation thought herself madly in love with him. Susannah couldn’t blame them. Impossible as it seemed, she loved him more deeply with every passing day. He was a loving husband and a wonderful father, ever patient with her, with their children, never too tired or too busy to answer their questions.

He worked tirelessly to make things better for his people, never turning anyone away, never refusing to give aid when it was asked. The young men looked to him for guidance. He counseled them about everything from school work to their love lives and had helped more than one rebellious teenager get his life straightened out.

Susannah lifted her face for her husband’s kiss, felt her heart swell with love as he caressed their daughter’s cheek with infinite tenderness.

“Hehaka Luta is going to take the boys down to the river to swim,” Black Wind remarked.

He leaned back against the porch rail, his ankles crossed, his arms folded over his chest, and she thought again how handsome he was with his black hat pulled low and a smile hovering over his lips.

“You keep an eye on our boys,” Susannah said. Young Daniel could swim like a fish, but she still worried about Jason.

Black Wind raised one brow, silently rebuking her for thinking he would let anything happen to his sons. “Do you think you could put together about twenty sandwiches for us?”

“Oh I’m sure that can be arranged. It’ll cost you though.”

Black Wind nodded. It was an old and familiar game they played. “How much?”

“Oh I don’t know. I’ll think of something. You can give me another kiss now, sort of like a down payment, and I’ll figure out the rest later.”

Grinning, Black Wind dropped to one knee in front of her. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her long and hard, his tongue sliding over her lower lip. Heat spiraled through her, hotter and brighter than the South Dakota sun.

“Think you could throw in some apples and chocolate chip cookies?” he asked, his eyes glinting with merriment.

“I think so,” Susannah replied, breathless from his kiss, “but it’s gonna cost you something extra.”

“Another kiss?” Black Wind asked with a roguish grin.

“I was thinking of something a little more intimate,” Susannah said, struggling to keep from laughing out loud. “Like a candle-lit bubble bath after the kids are in bed and the lights are out.”

“I’m willing to pay the price,” Black Wind said with mock resignation. “No sacrifice is too great to make my boys happy.”

“My hero,” Susannah murmured. And knew that no truer words had ever been spoken.

The End

About Madeline Baker

Madeline Baker started writing simply for the fun of it. Now she is the award-winning author of more than thirty historical romance books and one of the most popular writers of Native American romance. She lives in California, where she was born and raised.

Feather in the Wind
Copyright © 2014, 2016 Madeline Baker

Published by Butterfly Kisses Press

Cover design by Roseanna White Designs

Cover photos from Shutterstock.com and © Adrianhillman | Dreamstime.com