Sweet Savage Surrender (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Clouds floated gently  across the blue sky like huge puffs of smoke.  Chirping birds sang cheerful melodies as they flew from tree to tree.  The air smelled of pine and flowers.  No day had ever seemed so perfect.  Running Antelope moved with agile grace, carrying Skyraven and the man she loved back to the Indian village.  Riding behind John Hanlen, Skyraven took comfort from his nearness
,
yet the brush of his legs against hers was very stirring, especially after the mo
ment of love they had shared.

John was equally aware of her as they rode.  Their bodies touched from shoulder to knee, her firm breasts crushed against his back, h
er thighs hugging him with a familiarity that
threatened to make it impossible for him to control his desires. He glanced at the three Indian braves out of the corner of his eyes, wondering what their reaction would be if they knew he and Skyraven had just made love.  What were their customs about things like that?  Until he knew for certain
,
he thought it best to maintain the strictest sense of propriety, but God that was going to be difficult when every one of his senses cried out to her
, when he wanted to lean into her embrace, touch her, give vent to his affections
.  Keeping a firm hand on the reins, he t
ried to think of other things.

"So you are Skyraven's white soldier,"
one of the braves said
,  a bronze colored giant with muscles that rippled as he guided his horse alongside Running Antelope.  His eyes were piercing black
, boring into John Hanlen.

John smiled in an attempt to be friendly.
"My name is Major John Hanlen….and you are called?"

The brave
’
s lips were drawn into a tight line.  "Blue Fox!  I am Chief
Lean Bear
s eldest son."

"I am pleased to meet you."  Never having met any Indian braves before
,
John reacted spontaneously, holding out his hand, feeling like a fool the moment he initiated the gesture. What was he thinking of?  This man
wouldn’t understand that custom of the white man.
He was surprised therefore when Blue Fox grasped his hand in return, squeezing so tightly that it caused a flash of pain.  John refused to flinch.  Looking the brave directly in the eye he clutched with equal pressure.  Blue Fox's eyes sh
own with a measure of respect.

"Blue Fox is my
friend
Desert
Flower's husband," Skyraven interceded, her arms tightening around John's waist with a feeling of pride knowing that Blue Fox had judged him worthy.  "And
about to become a new father."

Puffing out his chest with pride Blue Fox e
xclaimed, "it will be a son."

"Or perhaps a daughter," Skyraven amended.  "If my calculations are true we will know now very soon."
Playfully Skyraven nudged Running Antelope on ahead of the other three riders. Unprepared for the horse’s sudden jot, John grabbed tightly to the reins.
             

"Your friend Blue Fox is a grim man," he confided, looking over his shoulder as the Indian
sought to catch up with them.

"He and Lone Wolf are friends and by marriage
,
cousins.  While you were gone Lone Wolf made preparations to ask for me.  He even gathered t
ogether the necessary horses."

"I see!"  John tried  hard to fight his jealousy
,
but it surged through him nevertheless. 
He thought how it might be timely that he think about gathering up the necessary mares and stallions to present to Skyraven’s grandfather.  "And....?" he asked.

Skyraven  leaned forward
,
tickling his ear with her breath as she answered.  "I refused him, for I will have no one but you as you must well know
after our love at the river."

Her answer renewed John's feelings of just what a beautiful day it was.  It was as if Running Antelope floated on air, for certainly his heart had wings.
Was that why they managed to stay at least a horse’s length in front of the others? As they rode
along he took in the view of the countryside wondering if the leaves of the trees always looked so green, if the sky was always
tinted so deeply blue.
             

When they reached the Indian encampment
,
John saw before him what looked to be a city of tall
,
pointed tents nestled in among a grove of trees.  As they rode closer
,
he could see the village come alive.   Fires flamed as the nightly di
nner was prepared,  women busying
themselves at their work, cooking or sitting with large pieces of leather in their laps.
It appeared they were doing some kind of embroidery, not too different from the women at the fort.
  He could see two strong braves carrying a large haunch of deer which had been spitted towards the largest fire.   It was much like any other group of people gathered together.  Why then was it always said that the Indians were so different.   Children played, their laughter bubbling in the air. Was there anything as uplifting as the sound of high-pitched giggles of
happiness
.  No.  John had always loved children.  Now
,
as they circled about the small returning party
,
he
turned his attention to them.

"They are fascinated by your sword, the way it glitters in the fading sunlight," Skyraven said.  "And by the gold buttons on your jacket.  The children have always lik
ed buttons.  And by your hat."

Sliding from his horse, John dismounted
,
then helped Skyraven down
.
Taking his hat from the saddle horn
,
he knelt down and put it on one young boy child's head.  A beaming smile was his reward, though when the youngster ran off
, John
felt a moment of anxiety.  "I'll be taken to toll if I
come back without it," he said to Skyraven.

"He'll return it," Skyraven promised.  "He has gone to show his brother, that is all."
Skyraven led him to the center of the camp and paused before the largest and most ornate of the tepees. “Lean Bear’s lodge,” she said.
Hearing her voice, a tall, graying, big-boned Indian emerged from within.
The pride with which he held himself, his stance, the deference the others showed hi, proclaimed him chief even had John Hanlen not known who he was. He reminded John more of an eagle than a bear.

"So, who have you here, Skyraven?" he asked, his deep commanding voice silencing the children's laughte
r  and the women's chattering.

"My soldier.  John Hanlen."

The chief's assessing eyes were not unfriendly, just stern.  "I know many soldiers from the fort."  He pointed to a medal that he wore hanging around his neck.  "This was given to me last year by the great white father, Lincoln.  H
ave you met him, John Hanlen?"

"No, Sir, I have not."

The chief grinned.  "Then I
have scored a coup," he said.

"A coup?"

"A victory, Skyraven's
white
man,"
Blue Fox said with a smile, coming up  behind him.  "Skyraven scored a coups when she laid the Ute warrior low with a tree limb to save you."  He laid his hand on Skyraven's shoulder with friendly familiarity.  "Most women would have fled
,
but not Skyraven.  You have
found yourself a good woman."

"I know."  John 's look of gratitude was from the heart.  "I guess you
could say that
I
scored a coup
when I was fortunate to be found by her.  Yo
ur great spirit smiled on me."

A group was forming around John Hanlen, Skyraven, the Indian Chief and his son.  A joyful greeting rent the air as a plump,  obviously pregnant young Indian woman came forward to take her place at Skyraven's side.

"I hope that you do not mind that I sent Blue Fox and a party of braves in search of you, Skyraven.  When you did not return promptly, I was afraid you had lost our way.” Desert Flower looked at the soldier in their midst and back at Skyraven again, then smiled a wry smile, as if sensing full well why Skyraven had not returned promptly. The white soldier standing next to her had to be the reason.

"We sort of found one another, the braves and me,”"  Skyraven laughed.  "I had already been back here,  but I simply didn’t have the heart to wake you. You were sleeping so soundly. I was searching for the yucca plant and milkweed when John Hanlen made himself known.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, giving full vent to her feelings. “I rode back to bring Blue Fox, Spotted Pony, and Nigh Hawk with me—and now here we all are.”She flung her arms open wide to indicate that they had returned to the fold.

"Then this white man with you is the John Hanlen we have talked about?"

Skyraven flushed, remembering the intimate details she had discussed with her friend. "Yes, my dear, dear friend.  This is Major John Hanlen of the United States Cavalry." 

Desert Flower studied the man standing
befor
e
her for  just a moment
before she spoke. 
" It is unusual to see a blue coat
such as you are wearing here in our village. As you know
,
we are sometimes not too fond of the blue coated  horse soldiers.  However, since you are a friend and a guest of our dear Sky
raven, you are most welcome."

"I
thank you all for that welcome,
"
John replied. He had a sudden idea. “Since the blue coat makes you uneasy, let me remove it and prove once and for all that there should be no barriers to friendship.” Undoing his gold buttons, he stripped off his jacket, shirt, and yellow neckerchief. Seeing that the braves were bare-chested, he also removed the top half of his underwear and his suspenders and likewise bared himself to the waist. A twittering followed his actions as the women of the camp came closer to get a better look at him, their eyes focused on his chest hair.  Indian men had no such growth.  The braves
, however,
appraised his chest, neck and arms, sizing him up as men do other men.  One young brave was even so bold as t
o feel the muscles of his arm.

"Strong man," Blue Fox said, grunting with approval.  "But how well can you fight, white man?"  He crouched to a challeng
ing position.  "Shall we see?"

"All right!"  Though this was far from the greeting he had envisioned, John sensed he could not back  down, not now.  The Indians admired  two
things, Skyraven had told him--
strength and wisdom.  This was then to be his first test.  Controlling his breathing, ignoring the pounding of his heart
, John likewise hunkered down.

The large brave shouted what sounded like a war cry.  His long hair flew wildly about him as he moved forward, circling John like a wolf about to snare his quarry.  Then he pounced.  Locked together in combat
,
the two men rolled upon the ground.  Freeing himself from the Indian brave's grip
,
John pushed himself to a partially standing position, changing his weight from foot to foot as he awai
ted the Indians next move.  He'd wrestled before--i
t was something the soldiers sometim
es did to wile away the time--b
ut  never wi
th an opponent like this one.
Still, he had only such c
ombat to aid him now.

Desert Fox lunged again, moving with the swiftness of a  sprung arrow.  He gripped John by the wrists trying to pull him down
.  "The winner is he who touches
his opponents arm to the ground and holds it there," he said.  With that instruction
,
he tugged and pushed, trying to knock John off balance.  John retaliated.  Catching the brave by the foot
,
he sen
t him sprawling to the ground.

"I hope that is allowed," he said.  That the move wasn't contested told him that it must be.  Seemingl
y anything within reason was allowable.

"You are quick, like the fox I am named for, but my strength is greater," Blue Fox warned
,
bounding back to his feet with the agility of a cat.  He lunged at John again
,  but Jo
hn, the thinner of the two, danced out of the way.  Crouching down
,
he waited for the brave to come closer
, for then
he would sho
w that he had other surprises.

The wrestling match moved like a dance.  Blue Fox would pounce, John would side-step him again and again, remaining alert.  It at least kept him from being pinned to the ground, yet John knew he couldn't win the combat this way.  To win he had to keep the Indian down upon the ground and h
e wasn't able to do that.  What's more he was tiring.