Sweet Savage Surrender (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

Tiny beams of sunlight danced across the sky, sending a soft, dim glow to the earth below as Skyraven
approached
the village. 
Usually she would have marveled at the beauty of the sky, but now it made her wary. Always before she
had
been cautious in her visits to John Hanlen, leaving when her camp was in darkness and returning long before dawn. Her nightly visits had gone undetected and she had grown overly secure in the knowledge that she had not been discovered. Would she now suffer for such foolish overconfidence? Had she allowed John Hanlen’s tender words and lovemaking to
overpower
her own better judgment?

“As grandfather would say, I have made my own trouble,” she scolded aloud as she walked along. Even so, she had to admit that had she to do it all over again, she still would have stayed with her soldier. Last night had been a wonder beyond belief, something precious to remember for the days ahead.

Dry leaves and twigs snapped under her feet, and she cautioned herself to walk more stealthily, fearful of being intercepted and possibly questioned. She did not want such rebuke to spoil what had passed last night. But though she
frightened
off a foraging raccoon, none of her tribesmen seemed to linger about. Skyraven breathed a sigh of relief. 
The spir
its were looking out for her, for n
o one was in sight. 
Her approach appeared to have been without detection.

In the distance she could hear  chanting and knew that the dancing
, greeting the approach of the first morning’s light, had begun. That was the answer. Her people had already left the village to travel to the bluff to greet the dawn. They had been too engrossed in their ceremony to have noticed her absence. The camp was empty, at least for the moment.

  The sun
dance was  the most elaborate festival among the Arapaho and
Cheyenne
.   Already it had taken
several days of preparation, every member of the tribe having had
some part in it. 
Skyraven felt a twinge of guilt remembering that she
had
used this concentration and distraction for her own ends, to visit John Hanlen.  Now the last day of the eight-day ceremony was to come to an end with one last celebration.
Soon, when the first pink rays of the su
n appeared over the horizon, her
people wou
ld have an impressive parade
through the village.  Skraven planned to join in th
at procession, pouring forth her whole heart to atone for those moments her thoughts had been elsewhere during the rituals.

Quietly she lifted the flap of her tepee and went inside, hoping with all her heart that
none of the women would be waiting to pry from her an explanation of her doings.
She would have a difficult time explaining where she had been if it had been noticed that she was gone. 
Anxiously her eyes darted about, but again it appeared that the spirits were on her side. The tepee was empty, with no sign of anyone having disturbed her possessions. It was just as she had left it, a favorable sign which made her feel at peace. The women who kept their keen, watching eyes on the unmarried girls would have no scolding words or tattling tales to tell her grandfather.
Facing her grandfather's anger when his goodwill towards  John Hanlen was so important
,
would have bode
d
ill.

Nev
ertheless, Skyraven waited for several moments, watching the entrance to her tepee just in case she might have a visitor. She was greatly relieved when no one entered.
So far, so good
,
she thought as she
reached into her buffalo-skin clothes chest for her white doeskin dress. She would change into her ceremonial attire
and join the others  
If she timed her entrance right, no one need ever know that she
had
not been present the entire time. With so many others about, the women would very likely not even have noticed that she was missing. Skyraven laughed softly. They were too busy chattering among themselves, preening about in their beaded finery like strutting prairie chickens to concern themselves with her. For once she approved of such vanity.

The light in the tepee was dim as Skyraven slipped out of her soft beaded buckskin dress and leggings. The early-morning air was cool, and she felt her body come alive at its whispered touch, just as it had beneath John Hanlen’s hands. Closing her eyes for just a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of remembering the lovemaking they had shared, then she quickly returned to her task. Even so, as she brushed her hair and fumbled with her garments, she conjured up his face.

“Oh, John Hanlen, return to me soon,” she whispered.

As soon as she had dressed she thanked
Man Above
for sending her the spiritual gift of dreams and vision
and for giving her the white man’s love.
  She turned four times and asked their pardon for her absence from the
sun dance
.  No sooner were the words out of her mouth
, however,
  when a cool
breeze
seemed to blow through the teepee
whispering to her. S
he knew
then
that all was well.  A voice from within her own head seemed to say, "
You
have saved
a life and are in good favor."

Skyraven attuned her ears as she stepped forth from her dwelling. There were voices
in the distance and the tinkling of bells.  The
women were coming closer now.
The procession through the village had begun.  
T
he b
ells around their ankles kept
time to the drum beats,
coming closer and closer. Slipping into the
shadows
as they passed by
her
tepee,
Skyraven s
teathfully joined the throng of happy
, smiling faces.  She eased her way along until she was at her pla
ce in front of the other women.

“Skyraven!” Her grandfather’s voice startled her out of her sense of well-being. Her heart beat as furiously as the tom-toms, but as she looked at him she realized he hadn’t spoken. She had imagined his voice so vividly that it had seemed real, however. The spirits again?

I will make it up to you, Grandfather
, she thought.
             
She knew that she must confide in him all that had happened. He would understand. When he realized the spirits had led her to the white man, that it was a hope for peace, he would find it in his heart to be happy for her.
She would
soothe his mind and make him see that John Hanlen was her happiness.

Her eyes touched on her grandfather with loving eyes. He
looked so
splendid in the ceremonial garments
that she had made for him just last year.  It had taken her a long time to complete the quill embroidery  on the yolk and down the front of the buckskin shirt.  The fringe along the sleeves and around the yolk was longer than most fring
e by at least a hands length, but t
he simple buckskin
leggings
he wore had been easy to make . 
The
beaded moccasins that reached to his knees
were the ones she had just completed; he was wearing them for the first time.
She had to admit
with a sense of pride that they did add a touch of elegance.
  On his head was the buffalo horn ceremonial bonnet with ermine and eagle f
eather streamers hanging down  his back
.

Her heart swelled with love. To her eyes he was the most magnificent sight of all the males, though Chief Left Hand  splendid in his attire, He
was dressed in simple buckskin s
hirt,
leggings
  and moccasins,
his war bonne
t of eagle feather reaching to the ground .Here were the two men to whom she had given her complete adoration and respect, the only men she had loved until she had met her white soldier.

“Grandfather.” For just a moment she reached out her hand as if she might touch him, sorrow weighing heavily on her mind. Could she leave him to make a life with John Hanlen? It was a question that marred the happiness she had allowed to consume her. Her grandfather would never make his way in the white man’s world. He had said that again and again. Nor could she be so foolish as to believe John Hanlen
would
live among her tribe. A time for choices was at hand, and yet perhaps last night she had already chosen, she thought, as she joined in the singing.

After circling the entire camp, her grandfather, the chief and the elders of the tribe stopped in front of the lodge of secret rituals.
It was here her grandfather would conduct the pe
a
ce-pipe ceremony and demonstrate his skill with offerings and prayers. The spring hunting season
could not begin without this ritual asking for a good hunting season
and escape from danger
. Though it was a very solemn occasion, her grandfather made it known that he was aware of her presence by nodding in
her
direction before the leaders entered the secret ritual lodge.

Now as the drummers beat the drums and sang their chanting songs, the women danced in accompaniment.  Skyraven was in the first row of four horizontal rows of dancers.  Each woman held an eagle feather in her hand
.  The dance was simple,
just moving the body in place while lifting the eagle feather toward the sky and then lowering it to the ground. 
Even so, Skyraven was aware of her every movement. Her grandfather had always commended her on the graceful way she danced. As she gave herself up to the movements, she felt the spirit touch her again and she smiled. It was yet another sign that what had happened was right. The dance would continue until the peace-pipe ceremony had ended and the elders again joined the tribe outside the ritual lodge. The people then would return to their own tepees to rest. Unlike her, sleeping in her lover’s arms, they
had
been immersed in the ceremony all night long.

Skyraven was aware that the sun-dance festivities were almost over when the elders began to emerge from the ritual lodge. Only tonight’s feasting around the communal fire remained. Tomorrow the buffalo hunt would begin. All of the able-bodied men would ride out on horseback leaving behind only the old and infirm men, along with the women and children in the village. Her grandfather would leave in the morning with the hunters, so she would have only a short time alone with him.

Skyraven approached her grandfather now but did not stop to talk with him. Several young braves had crowded around to seek his advice and she did not want to interrupt. Though she was anxious to reveal all that had happened she moved on, vowing to speak with him later.
Until
then she w
o
uld gather her thoughts together so that she could speak her mind easily, truthfully, and in such a manner that she would receive her grandfather’s favor.

“Skyraven!” She was headed to her tepee when Lone Wolf came up behind her. Taking her arm, he turned her around to face him. Leaning over, he whispered in her ear,
"I have been looking for t
he most beautiful woman in the v
illage and now I have found her."

“Have you?”
Skyraven turned and smiled at the handsome brave
, wondering just what Whispering Wind would think of his
remark
,. Slowly her eyes appraised him, thinking again that he was a handsome warrior.
Around  his strong arms were metal  bands of a golden color  He was wearing no shirt
,
just a leggings, beaded ankle length moccasins
,
and a headband with three eagle feathers. 
He was strong and powerful and she could understand
Whispering
Wi
nd’s attraction to him. Even so, she could not push from her mind another man’s visage, a man with golden hair and eyes the color of the summer sky.

“Yes, I have found her,” he repeated. His grip on her arm was tight, his eyes as intense as burning coals as he looked down at her. “I have always found you pleasing, Skyraven, as you must know.”

"Such
words flow from your lips as easily as honey from the honey pouch.  But how do I know that do not say
such things to all the women?"

Lone Wolf's eyes narrowed and he walked around her as he looked at her. 
“Because I tell you now that I do not.”

Skyraven met his gaze without wavering, knowing that this was no time for playful banter. She had noticed his eyes upon her, but until now, until she saw the same passion in his eyes that John Hanlen had exhibited, she had not fully realized the seriousness of his feelings. She had spoken lightly of his arrogance, yet now she didn’t want to wound his pride, nor to hurt him. But it was too late. She had given her heart, her soul, her body to another man.