Sweet Savage Surrender (8 page)

They talked for a  time, Skyraven opening up a bit of he
r heart as she talked about the
heartache of her early childhood
and the pain of growing up without a mother or a father
.   As the sun began to peek into the mouth of the cave
, however,
Skyraven knew that she must return to the village below
.
  She could never let it be known that not only had she saved the life of a white
man,  she had spent the night with him.  Even if they were quite innocent of any love making
,
her tribesmen  would never understand.  It w
ould be a slight on her honor.

The Arapahos were gentle people for the most part
,
and deeply religious.   A few of the young bucks, such as Lone Wolf ,thought war would be more exciting than making peace.  They were young and sometimes hard to handle
, but so far her
grandfather and Chief Left Hand had kept them under control.  She could not take the chance that Lone Wolf might be
infuriated
by
John Hanlen's  presence. That the brave
considered her "his" would only add more heat to the flame.  A misunderstanding could easily undo everything
Buffalo
’s Brother and Chief Left Hand  had been able to accomplish .

I must go back
, she thought.
I have been selfish and foolish to take such a risk.
Skyraven made up her mind  that she would return to the village and go about her chores as if nothing unusual had happened.  But could she do that?  Right now her heart was ready to explode with excitement.  Could her heart carry such a secret and not give it away?  Sh
e had to try.

John had be
e
n asking her about
her
grandfathers duties as medicine man when he noticed a far away look in her blue eyes.  "Your thought
s seem to be somewhere else."

"
Yes, I was thinking that I must go!"

"Just like
that?" He
wanted to learn more about her and had been enjoying their conversation.
             

"If I am missed there might be trouble...
."  Rising from her seat
on the buffalo
-
skin robe
,
she took his hand one last time and squeezed it hard.  "I must go down to the village now
,
but I will return at sundown..  I cannot let anyone know t
hat you are here in the cave."

"No, I don't believe you should."  He
was still wary of all Indians, even peaceful ones. Besides, he
looked forward to having her all to himself.  He didn't want anyone else intruding.
So far it was just the two of them, and that was exactly how he wanted to keep it.

“You will not leave?”

“I can’t go very far. I never had been much good without a compass.” He laughed. “So you see, you have me at your mercy, sweet Skyraven.”

"Rest while I am gone."

"Rest.  Ah, yes I will.  God knows I'm too weak
to do anything else.
             
He
raised
his eyebrows, wondering what she would do if he told her how much he wanted to make love to her.

"The rest will help you to regain your strength.
There is dried buffalo left if you hunger.” She could see by his expression that the idea was not very appealing.
“Tonight I will bring you a great feast,” she promised. “
In the meantime keep the pouch of pemmican, the rest of the uneaten berries and the jerky to fill your hunger pangs."  Now that it was time to leave
,
she did so reluctantly.  It was as if an invisible thre
ad tied her to this whiteman, a fragile thread.

"I'll miss you the moment you are gone."  He smiled, watching her as she walked to the mouth of the cave.  "Goodbye Skyraven.  It seems we are always saying good
-
bye."   He had known he
r for only a short time and yet
when she left
,
it seemed as if a part of him had gone with her. An emptiness consumed him. 
It would be a long day without her company.
For once, he mused, the dar
kness could not come too soon.

Skyraven rode down the steep slope to the cottonwood forest below
,
not daring to look back for fear of wanting to turn back and return to John Hanlen.  Instead
,
she kept her eyes riveted on the pathway. This area of the campsite was a kind of  oasis, hidden in the shelter of giant cottonwoods.  It was one of Skyraven's favorite places.  There was plenty of shade, plenty of water and p
lenty of grass for the ponies.

It was still early enough in the morning that the villagers were just beginning to stir.  Only one or two women and a few small children were to be seen
,
and that fact rel
ieved her anxiety.  F
rom the look of things
,
most of the men and young boys had already left for the antelope hunt
,
for many of the horses were missing.  Skyraven had overheard some talk
a few days be
f
ore
of an antelope herd which a thirteen year old boy had spot
ted just north of the village.

Sliding from her horse’s
back, she walked to
Buffalo
's Brother's lodge, lifted the flap and peeked in
.  She was
relieved that he was not there
, for the thought of making explanations had troubled her
. 
“He has gone on the antelope hunt,” she said to herself.
Although her grandfather was a holy man and carried only the peace pipe, no weapons, he was expected to accompany the hunters to bring the spirit of a good hunt. Now she would not have to worry about answering any questions.  If he had accompanied the hunters, and she was certain that he had, he would have had other things on his mind  other than watching after her.  If he had come to
her tent he would  have assumed
that she was
  out walking and put her absence far from his mind.

"So you have decided to return."  A voice she knew too well disturbed her sense of well-being. Turning
,
she saw Whispering Wind sitting  in the shadows,  a small wooden loom on her lap.  Her arms moved gracefully as she pulled the horse hair thread to complete
the headband she was making. 

"Yes, I have just returned from an early morning ride.  Running Antelope and I both enjoy the early morning air."   It was true. She had been on the horse's back, it was not a lie.  Still, Skyraven avoided the other woman's glaring eyes.  She felt no need to explain her whereabouts .  Her activities were really none of Whispering Wind's business.  They were both unmarried women with no obligation to report to each other on comings and goings.  Still, Whispering Wind's remark did cause her some concern.  She hoped with all her heart that she did not know more than she was letting on.   The Indian girl had already proven herself to be a treacherous enemy
and might take great delight in reporting any wrongdoing to the squaws..

"As you say.  And a late- night  ride as well......"

Skyraven's body was as taut as a bowstring.  Was the woman making accusations?  Or was she just too sensitive because in her heart she knew she did have a secret?  Whatever it was
,
Skyraven  walked away from Whispering Wind without a backward glance
, going about her morning tasks, making herself highly visible to the other women as she performed her fair share of the day’s duties.
  Not only was she responsible for keeping her own lodge in order but her grandfather's as well. She beat the buffalo robes with a wooden adze till they were soft and pleasant to the touch
,
then replaced them on the teepee floor.  She walked to the river  to fill the water pouches, taking a little time out to bathe and comb her long black tresses.  When she returned she scraped a few hides, gathered some wood then straightened
her grandfather's medicine lodge.

Although
she tried to keep herself busy,
the hours seemed to drag by.  Her thoughts were on John  Hanlen alone in the cave
and she longed to be there with him
. 
It was a temptation to sneak away, but after Whispering Wind’s remark, she knew she wouldn’t dare. Indstead, s
he worked herself into exhausti
on trying not to think about the golden-haired man, but delighting in her secret
.  Sitting  down outside her grandfather's medicine lodge
,
she admired the colorful pictures painted on his tepee as she at last took time to rest.  Her grandfather was a
very good artist, she thought. How she wished she could show his fine work to John Hanlen. It would make him fully understand how special
Buffalo
’s
Brother was.

”
Grandfather is an artist as well as a fine medicine man
,
"
she said aloud. 
The big red spot at the top
of the tepee
represented the bear's den.  Claws and tracks were painted in red and black along the bottom.  The green yellow and blue zigzags
around
the middle represented lightning and storms.  The bear was the patron of wisdom, magic and
medicine.
The
Indians knew that the bear kept well by eating certain herbs and roots.  They followed him, watched him  and learned.  The buffalo head on the other side of the teepee
,
at the top
,
was painted in black.  The buffalo was the patron of courage and the provider of many necessary things
such as tepees, pouches and moccasins.

Moccasins
!  Suddenly she remembered that she had taken her grandfather's to the white man.  She had promised to have them finished for him but now would have to start from the beginning. Perhaps now
,
before it began to turn dark
,
would be a good time for her to cut out the
soft skin.
  Then she could begin to bead them.  That would help
her to pass a few more hours.

Drifting smoke carried th
e
aroma of meat and vegetables simmering in cooking pots heated by stones from the
fire pit
.  Later she would take a little out of each pot and carry it back to the cave for her John Hanlen.  He was in need of some solid food if he was going to heal quickly.  The fact that he was not too fond of pemmican had not escaped her notice. 
This time she would bring him something delicious.

Ah yes, she was anxious to return,
she could not argue that. It was all she could think of as she worked,
though Whispering Wind's words gave her reason for caution. It was possible her rival suspected and might watch her comings and goings.  Even so
,
she was determined to take the chance, treasuring for the moment her precious secret.
             
             

Chapter Eight

It was silent, s
o quiet that John Hanlen  could hear the sound of his breathing as he lay  with his hands tucked behind his head,  staring up at the ceiling of the cave.  He was bored.  Now that he had had time to rest he was quickly recovering his strength and that made him fidgety. 
It just wasn’t in him to hibernate like some mangy old bear while the hours passed by. 
And yet, what
else was there for him to do?

Leave?  He  frowned as he looked around him.  The truth was he didn't have any idea just where h
e was. It would be easy to get
lost wandering about in unfamiliar territory.  Besi
des, he didn't have a horse and he
wasn't strong enough to walk any great distances, that much was for certain.  He was getting stronger
,
but he wasn't that steady on his feet.
Most important, there was
a whooping, hollering bunch of Indians out there who might just take him into their custody again.  If they did
,
he might not es
cape with his skin this time.

"The Utes!" he whispered angrily.  Their images hovered before his eyes when he was awake and haunted his dreams.  He wondered if he would ever
recuper
ate
from the hellish ordeal they had inflicted on him and
his sold
iers.

John suspected that the cavalry from
Fort
Lyon
had
followed hard and fast upon the trail of the soldiers in an effort to find his little band.  He had not been in contact with the Fort for nearly a week,
and
surely that would set them to wondering.  When
they contacted
Fort
Wallace
, the next fort up the
stream
from
Fort
Lyon
, and
found
out that
he and his men hadn't come to renew their needed supplies, surly there would be concern.  The forts were few and far between
, strung
out  with nothing but
prairie
land,
game
and buffalo
grass
, bluffs
and low lying
rolling hills  between them. 

"They'll ride out to find us
,
and then those red devils will pay for the murder of my men!"

How he hoped the cavalry would catch and bring every one of those murdering savages to justice,  just as they
had in
Missouri
  a short while ago when they hanged thirty such offenders.  One part of his heart wanted such vengeance
,
but
in
reality
, he  knew the Utes would be nearly impossible to track.

The scouts and guides had
led them
on a trail unknown and untraveled b
y anyone else from
Fort
Lyon
.  Even m
ore importa
nt
,
it
was entirely possible that if the Utes discovered that they were being pursued, they would break up into smaller groups and would never be found.  Damn those savages all to hell, they knew this country like the back of their hands
,
and although John hated to admit it, they were by far better horsemen and fighters than the young, untrained cavalry men in this
Indian territory
.  Most of
the more experienced cavalry soldiers
, with a few exceptions such as himself, had
chosen or
had
been
retained
to
fight
the
War Between
the States
, as
there was no glory to be had in fighting these Indians. All the metals and honors were going to the hero
e
s of
the war
across the
Mississippi
.  

Hell, the people back in the States have their hands full with their own problems, they probably don't even know that the cavalry is fighting anywhere else,
John thought.  Even the settlers and farmers in these parts didn't really seem to appreciate what the soldiers here had to endure.  It was a thankless, depressing and seemingly  hopeless situation.   The young enlisted men at
Fort
Lyon
,
and the other forts as well
,
had
volunteered
for duty here thinking they would find adventure.  Most of them had already became disillusioned when they had found what the
y were up against, including John himself
.

Just like all the others, not wishing to fight his own kinsmen, he had been relieved when he had been
transferred
out west.  He'd hoped to get this job of Indian fighting over with  and then be on his way home to Missouri, had hoped the War between the States would be over by then.  He'd
heard glorious tales about the W
est and the chances for a man to
succeed
.  So far, however, he had found uncomfortable living conditions, lack of understanding or appreciation from his countrymen for the sacrifice he was making
,
and the threat of ambush fr
om every scouting expedition.
             
But neither
I or the
others could
have ever guessed tha
t they would meet their deaths
,
he thought, tormented by that moment once again. God, how he had hated to see
those young
men massacred right before his eyes.  It wrenched his soul, tore at his stomach with a haunting sense of loss.  It would be one of his agonizing duties when he got back to see to it that their next of kin were told.  "God damn heathen bastards......"  For just a moment  hatred and anger took complete possession of his emotions, at least until he stared down at his feet, at the soft leather moccasins
,
and thought of
her
.

"My Angel of Mercy," he said softly, remembering how dutifully she had taken care of him.  That  memory tempered
his anger and helped him to put
things in perspective. As he'd told himself so many times during the last few days, not all Indians were violent.  She was all that was gentle and good in the world.  Deep emotion stirre
d in his heart at the thought.

He had increased in strength and was by now close to being fully recovered, thanks to Skyraven's tender care.  The lovely dark-haired beauty was not like the chanting, naked, painted savages who had fallen upon him.  She had come to his
rescue like
some leg
endary Indian p
rincess, exhibiting her daring and bravery.   Just like Pocahontas or  Sacagawe
a in the stories he'd read.  John
knew if he lived to be a hundred he would never forget
her.

Oh, how he wished she was here with him right now.
Every evening she had returned to the cave
to bring nourishing food and see to his needs.  He could never have survived without her.  
Though h
e knew that he should be getting back to the fort
, was in fact nearly
strong e
nough to make the journey now, s
he was the reason why he lingered on, he realized.
  Somehow the thought of leaving her tore at his heart.    By the saints,
he finally
had to admit to himself
that he
had strong feelings for her
.

Certainly she was unique.  There was only one Skyraven in this world, he thought.  She was beautiful, intelligent, and as brave as anyone he had ever met, woman or man.  It took a lot of courage to take a chance on angering her own people by helpin
g him as she was doing. 
John
knew
that he
r
tribesmen would be far from pleased were they to find them there together.  Even so
,
she risked that anger every night to come t
o him. 

Just being with her was an experience that had t
aught him
a lot
about the Indian culture
. Until now he'd had the i
dea that the Indian squaws
were treated as beasts of burden, always walking behind the men
, working
themselves to an early grave.  Skyraven had made him understand how important a woman's place was in the Indian society.  Every bit as important as any other woman was to a household.  He had been surprised to learn that the woman ruled the "tepee".  Skyraven had
made him understand the importance of a woman’s place in the Indian society, every bit as important as any other woman was to a household. He had been surprised to learn that the woman ruled the tepee. Skyraven had t
old him that a wom
a
n of her
tribe
had
the
power to evict an errant husband if he was guilty of a misdeed.  The small conical tent was
the woman’s
and not the man's home
,
and she had the right to say who would dwell within
. Just as this cave is Skyraven's
, he thought with a smile, wondering what it would be like to share a dwelling, be it cave or tent with her.  He found the idea pleasant.  The very idea, however,  would no doubt shock his family, his friends and
most of all his commanders. 

"Have you taken leave of your senses?" 
He
could almost hear his father say
, a man
very set in his ways with unalterable ideas on things.  Unfortunately he would judge Skyraven without even knowing her, would think of her as a heathen, just as all the other officers would.  Heathen?  She was as far from a heathen as anyone he'd ever know.  S
he was graceful and intelligent.  Truth be told, she
spoke English more correctly than some of
the white
immigrant horse soldiers. Hell, some of the troopers in his outfit
were barely intelligible.
She had told him that not only she but  her grandfather, the chief and some others of her tribe spoke English also.

As he looked out from the mouth of the cave toward the Arapaho village, he could almost see her face before him, registering her pr
ide as she had said,  "A
fter all, we have traded with the whites for a long time now. 
An
d
my people learn very quickly." 
She had smiled as she had added, "but  very few of your people have been able to learn our language, John Hanlen...." Indeed, she had tried to teach him a few words
,
but he had stuttered and stammered so pitifully
that he given up on the idea.

John
immersed himself in his thoughts, finding it  exceedingly pleasant to think about the Indian girl.  He was anxious to see her again and
growing
very impatient.  Shadows were darkening and he knew it as getting late.  Where was she?  Rising to his feet
,
he peered out at the horizon, his lips issuing a sigh of relief as Skyraven's slender form came into view.  She had tied  Running Antelope to a tree below the cave and was scurrying up the
bank through the undergrowth.

"Skyraven!  Skyraven!"  He wasn't even aware of saying her name until she looked up at where he was standing and  waved. It was the most natural gesture in the world.  His heart lept in response and he yearned to take her in his arms and make love to her right there on the vine entwined hillside.  With the breeze whipping her hair  around her shoulders
,
she was mesmerizingly lovely. As she walked tall and
proud toward
him, John fought to gain control of his emotions.  The one thing he must not do was to pou
nce upon her like some animal.

" I am glad to see you up and about,"  she said as she handed him a cord wrapped bundle.  John opened it,
besieged
with curiosity.  Inside he found a leather shirt, the workmanship flawless.  "I have just finis
hed it.  It is yours to keep."

"For me?  To keep?"   He was  touched by her charming
gesture. 

"So
that you will not forget me."

Forget her?  He knew he never would. Oh, if only  he could take her with him, but there was such a wide gulf between their cultures.  Reality was something far different than dreams.  If not for the hostility such a match might bring,  he would not have hesitated to
court her and perhaps even one day make her his wife.

"Come ,
let’s
go back inside the cave so that I can put on your wonderful gift," he said, pushing the thought from his mind.  In a gesture of gratitude he took her hand, holding it tightly as they
entered the cave.