Wolf Runner (17 page)

Would it ever seem like home to her?

Wolf Runner stood, his gaze on Cheyenne’s pale face. He could read the terror in her eyes and knew what she was feeling. “I will not depart without first seeing you.”

“You are leaving now?” she asked, seeing the glittering intensity reflected in his eyes.

“I must set up camp and tend the horses.” Without ceremony, Wolf Runner nodded to Bold Eagle and left abruptly.

Cheyenne felt bereft. She struggled, not wanting to show her feelings, but evidently she did not quite succeed. Bold Eagle saw her forlorn expression and frowned.

“Do not think you are alone, Granddaughter. You will dwell in my tipi with my two wives and me. They will be happy to have an extra pair of hands to help with the work.”

She was reminded that the Indian saw no wrong in taking more than one wife. “Is one of your women my grandmother?” she asked hopefully.

Bold Eagle shook his head sorrowfully. “Your grandmother has been dead for many winters. She was my first wife, and my favorite. Cloud Woman would have been happy to welcome home the daughter of her daughter if she were here.”

It was difficult for Cheyenne to grieve over the
death of a woman she had no knowledge of, but she did feel sadness all the same. “I’m sorry I could not have known her.”

At that moment her attention was drawn to the two women who entered the tipi, both smiling at Cheyenne. One was an elderly woman with soft black eyes; the other would have been somewhere in her forties, Cheyenne thought. Apparently they could not speak English, but they seemed genuinely glad to welcome her.

The youngest spooned stew into a wooden bowl and handed it to Cheyenne, smiling.

“Thank you,” Cheyenne said to the woman, who only nodded to her and continued to smile.

Her grandfather answered, “Walking Woman is happy to feed you, Granddaughter. And my other wife, Soaring Bird, is happy as well.”

Cheyenne took a bite and smiled at both women. “Will you tell them for me that this is delicious, Grandfather?”

The old man stared at her with his eyes glowing. “You are the only grandchild I have ever had; therefore, I have never been called ‘grandfather’ before. It warms my heart.” Then he turned to the women and told them what Cheyenne had said about the stew, which seemed to make the women happy.

The old man turned back to Cheyenne. “What is the name your mother gave you?”

“I am called Cheyenne.”

Bold Eagle gave her a toothless grin. “It is good. It is like my daughter to give you a name to tie you to her people.”

Night Fighter walked beside Wolf Runner as he led the horses a little way from the village, where he intended
to set up camp for the night. Wolf Runner did not trust the warrior and watched his every move.

“Do you want to settle this thing that is between us now?” Night Fighter asked.

“I will not take up a weapon against you while I am a guest of your uncle. I will meet you another time.”

“What is to keep me from sneaking upon you tonight and driving my knife into your heart?” the Cheyenne warrior asked, his hand going to his knife.

Wolf Runner nodded to his wolf. “Be warned; Satanta will warn me if you come near. Before I could stop him, he would tear your throat out.”

Night Fighter’s eyes widened. “Then it is true you speak to the wolves.”

Wolf Runner turned his back on Night Fighter. “I will no longer speak to you—I do not waste my time on those without honor.”

The Cheyenne warrior stopped in his tracks, hatred radiating from his eyes. “Sleep well tonight, Blackfoot. And count the days you have left to walk this land.” Pulling his robe tighter about him, he looked speculatively at the arrogant Blackfoot warrior, wondering if he might discover a weakness in his enemy he could use to his advantage.

“Let us speak of my cousin,” Night Fighter said slyly. “She is young and fair—just the kind of maiden I like.”

Wolf Runner whipped around, his sharp gaze cutting into Night Fighter. “You will not go near her.”

A malevolent smile curved Night Fighter’s lips as he thought of the power he now held over Wolf Runner. It had been too easy to uncover the Blackfoot’s weakness—it was the woman. “You will not be here to know,” he taunted.

Wolf Runner started toward him and then stopped,
realizing he could not break the slim peace that existed between the Cheyenne and the Blackfoot. If he attacked Night Fighter on Cheyenne land, he would be no better than his enemy. Conflicting emotions warred within him. “If you touch her, I will know, and you will die sooner than you expect.”

“I like the look of her,” Night Fighter continued, as if Wolf Runner had not even spoken. “I need another wife and she will need a husband—she cannot always live with my uncle and his wives. Age lies heavily on Bold Eagle’s shoulder, and the death rattle has already settled in his chest. Our healer says he will not live out the winter. When he dies, my cousin will need to find a man, and that man will be me.”

Wolf Runner was filled with rage at the thought of Night Fighter touching Cheyenne. It was the Cheyenne warrior’s reputation for brutalizing women that had sent Wolf Runner after him in the first place. “You are not worthy of her.”

Night Fighter’s gaze became hard. “Have you lain with her?”

Wolf Runner grabbed Night Fighter by his robe and yanked him forward. “Look into my eyes and see your death. Cheyenne is an innocent. Remember that!”

Night Fighter drew in a sharp breath, and he felt fear such as he had never known. “You would not slay me on my own land. You have already said so.”

Wolf Runner flung him away contemptuously, and when Night Fighter hit the ground hard, Satanta started toward him, growling low in his throat. Wolf Runner’s command stopped the wolf, but the yellow eyes still watched Night Fighter’s every move.

Night Fighter then knew he had every advantage
when Wolf Runner would not allow his wolf to attack. The fool really did see himself bound by honor as a guest to respect their land and people. Integrity had never been important to Night Fighter, and when he saw it in others, it aroused his cruelty. “Her purity makes me want her even more. I will speak to my uncle about her in the next few days.”

“I will warn her against you.”

Rising to his feet, Night Fighter stared back at Wolf Runner. “But you will not be here, and I will.”

“Do not be so certain. You would be wise to look over your shoulder at all times.”

Night Fighter stepped back a few paces because the hair on the back of the wolf’s neck had stood up. “I think we will not meet again unless it is in a battle to the death.”

“A battle I will win,” Wolf Runner said in a deadly calm voice. He heard Night Fighter’s laugh as the man turned and moved back toward the Cheyenne village.

Wolf Runner wanted nothing more than to drive a knife into the man’s heart. Shaking with anger, he reached the place in the pine grove where he would spend the night. It was a place where Night Fighter could not sneak up on him without making noise.

Unsaddling Cheyenne’s horse, he found her meager belongings and felt pain in his heart. What he wanted to do was to take her away with him when he left. He hobbled the horses and draped himself in his warm blankets, leaning his back against the thick trunk of a tall pine.

These were Cheyenne’s own people—her family. He had started the journey with her to find Night Fighter, but now Cheyenne was more important to him than vengeance.

Why then did he feel he was betraying her in some way?

Where Cheyenne was concerned, honor kept getting in the way.

It would take all his fortitude to leave her tomorrow, but he must.

Cheyenne felt as though she were in an alien world. It wasn’t that her grandfather and his two wives weren’t kind to her—they could not have been more welcoming. This was not the life she had been brought up to experience, and she had not been prepared to live in a tipi with three strangers—although one of them was her grandfather.

Her grandfather’s youngest wife, Walking Woman, had given Cheyenne a fine doeskin gown and knee-high moccasins. Her grandfather had explained to her that the garments had once belonged to her mother, and he had saved them, hoping Cheyenne would one day come for them.

The doeskin gown was soft and gave her a freedom of movement she had never experienced—it had wonderful beadwork on the arms and down the front. Her grandfather’s eldest wife, Soaring Bird, braided Cheyenne’s hair and wrapped the braids with leather strips, adding beads and small white feathers.

She wondered what Gram would say if she knew her granddaughter now lived among the Cheyenne tribe and looked just like one of them.

When evening fell and darkness descended, she was shown to a bed of furs at the back of the tipi
where she would sleep. As she lay upon the soft robes, Walking Woman covered her with a warm blanket. Inside the tipi was almost stifling to Cheyenne because she had become accustomed to sleeping in the open air.

As her new family settled down to sleep, loneliness crept into Cheyenne’s heart. At this moment, what was Wolf Runner doing? She had traveled with him for so long, she could imagine what his routine would be; after feeding and watering the animals, he would build a campfire. Since he had not hunted for fresh game, he would eat dried meat. Then he would bed down and sleep.

Cheyenne doubted she would sleep tonight. Her grandfather kept coughing, one of his wives groaned in her sleep, and the other one snored.

Everything was strange to her. Surely in time she would learn to accept her new life and feel at home with her mother’s people.

Reminding herself that these people were family, she squeezed her eyes tightly together. She tried to reach back to her mother’s girlhood and picture her here in this village, perhaps this very tipi. But since she did not know her mother’s face, she could not imagine it.

Her thoughts turned back to the person she wanted most to forget, and never would.

Wolf Runner.

She missed him so badly she ached inside. Tomorrow he would return to his home and push her from his mind forever. He would take the woman who was promised to him and they would become a family. Pain shot through her and she doubled up with it—the woman would give birth to his children.

Cheyenne wanted Wolf Runner to be happy; she
only wished he could have found that happiness with her.

Since Gram’s death, Cheyenne’s life had taken an unexpected turn and nothing seemed quite real to her anymore. For weeks Wolf Runner had been her only reality. Right now she should be lying near him as they bedded down for the night.

Angrily she wiped unwelcome tears from her cheeks. Her life had been filled with people leaving her: first her mother, then her father and her gram. Tomorrow she would say good-bye to Wolf Runner and watch him ride out of her life forever.

Wolf Runner paced through the snow, his thoughts black and troubled. He could not take Cheyenne with him, nor could he leave her to the mercy of Night Fighter.

He paced and thought and finally became aware that Satanta paced with him. Going down on his knees, he looked into the wolf’s eyes. The least he could do was send Satanta to her for tonight. She would be having a difficult time falling asleep and the wolf would soothe her.

“Satanta, go to Cheyenne.”

The wolf looked at him until he spoke in Black-foot. “Go to Cheyenne, Satanta.”

A short time later Cheyenne jerked awake. Something warm and furry was nuzzling up to her! She smiled as Satanta licked her face and settled down to sleep beside her.

Her arms went around the wolf and Cheyenne wished she could keep him with her, that way she would have something of Wolf Runner to hold on to in the difficult days ahead.

Had Satanta sensed that she needed him, or had Wolf Runner sent him to comfort her?

She would never know for sure.

Cheyenne rested her head against the wolf’s neck, burying her face against his soft, furry coat and falling into a dreamless sleep.

It was still dark when Cheyenne awoke and stirred. Reaching out for the wolf, she discovered Satanta had left her sometime during the night. Hearing two men conversing outside the tipi, she recognized the voices of Wolf Runner and her grandfather. Although she could not understand their words, she knew Wolf Runner was there to take his leave.

Her braids had come undone during the night and she hurriedly rebraided them. She scrambled off the fur skins and quickly ran her hand down her doeskin gown.

When she stepped out of the tipi, her grandfather moved away as if he knew she wanted to be alone with Wolf Runner at their time of parting.

“Were you leaving without telling me?” she asked, turning a hurt gaze up to Wolf Runner accusingly.

He shook his head, sensing how lost she felt here among people who dwelled in a world she did not yet understand. “I would not have gone away without first talking to you. I told you that yesterday.” His gaze moved over her, and he smiled. “You are lovely in the doeskin gown, Cheyenne. You look exactly as I thought you would.”

She did not hear his compliment and grabbed his arm in desperation. “My grandfather expects me to live with him and his two wives.” She was trying not to cry. “I know I will grow accustomed to their ways, but at the moment it is difficult.”

She looked so forlorn Wolf Runner wanted to snatch her up and ride away with her. Instead he said, “It will take time for you to feel like this is your home.” He reached out to touch her and could not resist taking her hand.

Seeing his beautiful eyes smoldering with feelings, Cheyenne pulled away. She had not expected it, but she saw that he was having a difficult time leaving her. There was some small gratification in that, but it would not help the ache in her heart.

“Yes. I will soon feel at home here,” she managed to say, although she did not believe it.

“Cheyenne, there is something I want to warn you about. Night Fighter is not to be trusted. Do not be alone with him.”

“But he is family.”

“Listen to me, for I speak the truth—he is dangerous to women. Will you promise me you will have a care around him?”

She nodded, thinking more of Wolf Runner’s leaving than of Night Fighter.

Satanta came up beside Cheyenne and she bent down to him. “You wonderful wolf. I will miss you. You have been a true and loyal companion.”

The animal looked straight into her eyes, and when she kissed his nose and stood, the wolf pressed against her. He was like no animal Cheyenne had ever known—there was protectiveness in him that she had never heard of in any others of his kind—from the beginning he seemed to sense what she was feeling.

“I gave your belongings to one of your grandfather’s women, the younger one. She placed them in the tipi. I am also leaving your horse for you—I want you to have him.”

She shook her head. “If you will remember, we were supposed to settle up at the end of the journey. If you will wait a moment, I will get the money and pay you for my share of expenses.”

“Cheyenne, I have no need for money.” He touched her cheek. “And for that matter, neither do you. Your money is no good here.”

“But we made an agreement before we started out, and I don’t want to be in debt to you.”

“There is no debt owing.”

Her head was too heavy to hold upright and she stared down at her beaded moccasins.

“Wolf Runner, do you think you will ever come back this way?”

“I do not believe I will.”

“Then…accept my gratitude for everything you have done for me.” Cheyenne was relieved that her voice sounded steady and did not quiver, as she did inside. But she did not know how long she could stand there without breaking down.

“You should leave now.”

Glancing down at her for a long, silent moment Wolf Runner saw how helpless she looked—her cheeks were pale and her eyes were filled with unshed tears. He had looked after her for so long, it was difficult to leave her in the care of others.

“Be well, Cheyenne. And take care of yourself. Find happiness here among your mother’s people.”

“God go with you,” she said. “And see you safely home.”

Wolf Runner quickly turned and moved away, still fighting the urge to snatch her into his arms and carry her with him.

It had begun to sleet when he turned back to wait
for the wolf. Satanta had not moved from Cheyenne’s side.

“Come, Satanta,” he said in an authoritative voice, speaking in Blackfoot. “Come now!”

The wolf looked at him, then flopped down at Cheyenne’s feet as if in defiance.

“I said to come here!” he repeated in English.

Satanta did not move; he just stared back at Wolf Runner with his yellow eyes.

Cheyenne was shocked. “Go, with him,” she said, dropping to her knees and laying her hand on the wolf’s head.

Still Satanta did not move from her side.

Wolf Runner came back to them and glared at the wolf. He told him in Blackfoot they were going home and he would see his mate.

Satanta seemed unconcerned.

“Cheyenne,” Wolf Runner said, meeting her gaze, “I do not know how it happened, but Satanta is attached to you and he will not leave you. He is your wolf now.”

Her mouth flew open in surprise and she looked from Satanta to Wolf Runner. “The gift is too great, I can’t accept it.” But she wanted to.

Smiling, Wolf Runner shook his head in disbelief. “A wolf will never leave its pack for any length of time. I thought for five years that Satanta belonged to me. But wolves choose who they belong to—he has chosen you. It will be a comfort to me knowing he will be looking after you.”

Cheyenne could not watch as Wolf Runner turned to leave. She was certain Satanta would eventually follow him, but he did not. She glanced up and saw Wolf Runner disappear down the trail, and her hand
landed on the wolf’s head as she willed the animal to remain with her.

And he did.

She stood there empty inside, waiting.

Hoping Wolf Runner would come back for her and Satanta.

Then as the sun topped the pine trees, sorrow weighed down on her. She heard the faint sound of Wolf Runner riding away, and she listened as the sound disappeared into the distance.

Wolf Runner was gone from her life forever.

Her grandfather’s younger wife came to her, motioning that Cheyenne should follow her into the tipi. Once inside, Walking Woman gestured to the clothing she had laid out on Cheyenne’s pallet.

Smiling through her tears, Cheyenne picked up the fine doeskin gown with beautiful blue beading and gathered it to her. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at her grandfather’s woman. “This is lovely.”

Walking Woman pointed to the moccasins and indicated they were for Cheyenne. “I now have two lovely gowns,” she said, wishing the woman could understand her.

Later, when Cheyenne stepped out of the tipi, her grandfather was with a group of warriors. He looked pale and shaken, his shoulders hunched, but he grinned at Cheyenne.

When darkness fell, Bold Eagle had taken to his pallet, unable to rise. Both his wives fussed over him, trying to make him comfortable. Cheyenne’s concern for him grew when she heard his labored breathing.

For long hours Cheyenne sat beside her grandfather, wishing she could help him breathe. But before morning he worsened. Had she come all the way
across the country to find her grandfather, only to watch him die?

As the day progressed, her grandfather grew worse, and his chest rattled with each breath he took. Not thinking what her fate would be when her grandfather died, she was determined to stay with him to the end.

Riding down the trail that led through the pine forest, Wolf Runner felt as if he had left his heart behind. With each step his horse took, Wolf Runner battled the urge to turn back.

There was a place in his heart that was reserved for Cheyenne alone and Blue Dawn would never be able to touch it. He hoped Blue Dawn would never know she would be cheated of a husband’s love.

He nudged his horse forward at a stiff gallop and the poor packhorse was having a hard time keeping up.

After a time Wolf Runner slowed his pace, thinking he was far enough from the Cheyenne village that he would not be tempted to return.

But he could not ride fast enough or far enough to leave behind the memory of amber eyes shining with tears.