Wolf Runner (2 page)

Wolf Runner ran down the trail, leaving his family’s private encampment in the heart of the mountains.

He and his father had spent the summer months together while Wolf Runner’s wound healed. In early autumn, when Wind Warrior had satisfied himself that his son was strong enough to be on his own, he had returned to the Blackfoot village.

Spending a solitary winter in the mountains had restored Wolf Runner’s health and cleared his mind of any doubts about his future. Unmindful of the heavy snowfall or the chilling winds, he had hunted, meditated, and freed himself of the veneer of civilization he had acquired during his year’s sojourn in the white man’s world.

Wolf Runner did not slow his pace as he leaped over a huge tree that had fallen down onto the pathway during a recent landslide, an occurrence that happened often on this particular trail. He was young, healthy, and reveling in his restored strength. When he reached the lower part of the mountain, the trail leveled out for a time and he was soon joined by four silver-white wolves that stayed close to his heels.

If anyone had been watching they might have thought the young warrior was being pursued by the pack, when in actuality they were matching his steps.

The alpha wolf, Satanta, was the grandson of Chinook,
a wolf that had belonged to Wind Warrior’s mother. Sadly Chinook had died ten winters past, but all the silver-white wolves in the pack had descended from that noble animal.

These wolves were Wolf Runner’s constant companions and had remained with him throughout the winter season—now they were accompanying him back to the village.

Wolf Runner paused at the bottom of the mountain to look about him, awed, as he always was, by the splendor of the wilderness. The rustling of the wind through the pine trees seemed to have a music all its own. If it had been his choice to make he would not leave the mountains; but duty called and he must return to the Blackfoot village. He had promised himself that he would find and punish Night Fighter, and that was foremost in his mind.

There were signs of spring when he reached the base of the mountain; trees were budding, and fresh green grass had managed to push its way through the snow.

Pausing to catch his breath, he removed his pack and set it on the ground beside him. He reached for his water skin and poured water onto an indentation in a large round stone and watched as his wolves thirstily lapped it up. Only when they had drunk their fill did he tilt the water skin and take a deep drink, thinking that nothing was sweeter than water from a mountain stream.

Wolf Runner watched the antics of his wolves, laughing as they frolicked and played. He preferred their company to that of most humans. Hoisting his pack onto his shoulders he placed his hand on Satanta’s shaggy head. The wolf pushed against his leg and stared right into his eyes.

“Let us go home,” he said, starting off in a run, and the wolves loped along beside him.

Among the thick branches of a pine tree Wolf Runner spotted a puma crouching in the shadows, but at the sight of the wolf pack, the huge cat quickly disappeared up a cliff.

When he broke out of the wooded area, Wolf Runner came to an abrupt halt. Firethorn was seated near a campfire waiting for him while two horses grazed in the nearby meadow.

Firethorn bore a striking resemblance to his father, Chief Broken Lance. His eyes were keen and dark, and he was good-natured and found it easy to laugh. He was sometimes called the jokester of the tribe because of the pranks he liked to pull on his friends. Although Firethorn was a mere two years older than Wolf Runner, he was in actuality Wolf Runner’s uncle. Wolf Runner’s mother had been a white captive, adopted by Firethorn’s mother and father as their own beloved daughter. Firethorn, like the rest of the tribe, looked upon his adopted older sister with great love and admiration. Rain Song had helped bring Firethorn into the world, when she and his mother had been caught in a valley with a deadly prairie fire raging around them. Since that time, she had loved and cared for Firethorn like a second mother.

Wolf Runner and Firethorn were the best of friends. Wolf Runner trusted no one to protect his back as he trusted Firethorn.

“Why are you here?” Wolf Runner asked, fearing something might be wrong at the village. “Is everything all right—is my family well?”

Firethorn doused the campfire with water and watched steam rise in the air before he answered.
“Your family was well when I left the village seven days ago. I have been camped here for five days waiting for you to come down from the mountain.”

Wolf Runner tied his pack to the back of his horse and mounted. “There has to be a reason you are here.” He smiled. “Otherwise you would not have left Spring Maiden, fearing some other brave would claim her for his woman.”

Absently Firethorn eyed the four wolves that restlessly circled Wolf Runner’s horse. “I have no fear she will turn to another,” he boasted, grinning. “She thinks only of me.” Firethorn turned his solemn gaze on his friend. “Your father wants you.”

Wolf Runner studied his friend’s face for a moment. “Do you know why?”

“I cannot reply to that. He did not tell me.”

Just ahead lay the path that led deep into the heart of Blackfoot country. “Then let us ride,” Wolf Runner said, nudging his horse in the flanks and turning in the direction of home.

It was late the next afternoon when Wolf Runner allowed his gaze to skim toward the Powder River, which snaked its way across the high plains for as far as the eye could see. Their home was sometimes beside the Milk River, but for now the encampment lay along the Powder River.

Wolf Runner caught sight of a pronghorn antelope bending its sleek neck to drink; although the river was more than a mile wide, the depth merely reached as high as a man’s waist at its deepest point.

A short time later, they reached the village. A joyous uproar rippled through the children who had gathered around Wolf Runner’s horse, laughing and shouting, “The wolves have returned!” The animals
liked to roll and play with children, for they had been born in the village and knew little of the ways of wild wolves that roamed the land.

Wolf Runner dismounted, while Firethorn led his horse away. As he glanced about the village, Wolf Runner saw that nothing had changed; thirty-seven tipis were situated beside the river, which was full to its banks from the spring runoff of the nearby mountains.

Sensing someone behind him, he turned to see his younger brother, Little Hawk, studying him closely.

“At last you return, my brother,” Little Hawk said, smiling in welcome. “Our mother has watched for you the last few days.”

With a soft-spoken command from Wolf Runner, all four wolves fell back, sitting on their haunches. Placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder he looked him over carefully. The boy was eleven summers and favored their father in appearance, while Wolf Runner favored their mother with lighter skin and green flecks in his brown eyes.

“I see you have grown, little brother. It will not be long before you will demand a tipi of your own.”

“Had you stayed away longer, I would have taken yours,” the young boy stated, smiling. “I am glad you are home.”

Wolf Runner walked with his brother toward their father’s tipi. “Let us not keep my mother waiting.”

Those who welcomed Wolf Runner home quickly surrounded him. His grandfather, Broken Lance, who was chief of the tribe, looked his grandson over carefully, while his grandmother, Tall Woman, extended her hand to him. His mother’s adopted parents were as near to his heart as any blood grandparents could be.

“Welcome home, Grandson,” Broken Lance said with feeling. “You have been missed.”

Wolf Runner clasped his grandfather’s arms, all the while smiling at Tall Woman. “It is good to look upon your face once more, my grandmother. I am glad you are both in health.”

His father came out of his tipi, and it was easy to see the pride in Wind Warrior’s gaze as it settled on his eldest son. “Your homecoming has been anticipated by all, but none so dedicated as your mother.”

“Father,” Wolf Runner said, dipping his head to honor the man he respected above all others. But his eyes moved over the crowd, looking for the one person he wanted most to see. When he did not see her, he turned to his father with a questioning glance.

“Your mother and sister are gathering reeds along the creek bed. I am certain they will have heard of your return by now.” He smiled and nodded toward the path that led to the woods. “They come.”

Although she wore a buckskin gown and her blond hair was braided with beads, no one would take the woman who approached for a full-blood Blackfoot. It was she who had taught him that a man can walk two paths and be proud of who he is in both worlds.

His mother.

Wolf Runner had the urge to hurry to her, to take her in his arms and pour out all he had learned in the months he had been in the mountains. But he did what was expected of him. He folded his arms across his broad chest and waited for her to reach him. He smiled inwardly when she did what he could not—she ran to him.

Rain Song broke many of the Blackfoot tribal customs, and no one questioned her right to do so, for she
was beloved of the tribe, even if they did not always understand her ways. She went into Wolf Runner’s arms and lovingly gazed into his face.

“My son, my heart is gladdened at your return. I can see that you are fully recovered.”

Before Wolf Runner could speak, his young sister tugged on his buckskin leggings, and his eyes widened when he saw how tall she had grown since last he had seen her. “Little princess,” he said affectionately, lifting White Feather in his arms. “You are already a beauty like our mother, and you have her green eyes. Will I have to keep all the young warriors away from you when you are old enough for courting?”

“None will be as handsome as you—so I will not have them,” she said loyally.

Her answer made Wolf Runner laugh. “Oh, I think you will when the right one comes along.”

White Feather grinned and said in all seriousness, “No one except our father is as brave and strong as you.”

Wind Warrior looked at his only daughter, his eyes soft with love for the precocious child. “You can visit with your brother later, White Feather. Tend to the reeds you have gathered and we will call you when we have finished speaking.”

Wolf Runner set the child on her feet and followed his father and mother into their tipi, where he sank down on a buffalo robe, sensing they both had something they wanted to speak to him about.

His mother spoke first. “When you were young you traveled with me twice to the ranch I inherited from my mother and father. Mesa del Fuego now belongs to you, as my eldest son.”

He said nothing but looked astonished.

“Someone,” his mother continued, “wants to buy
the ranch. It is now for you to decide if you want to keep it, or sell it, and to do that, you must go to Santa Fe right away.”

Wolf Runner looked to his father, hoping he would understand the pledge he had made to find the renegade Cheyenne. But help would not come from that direction—his father refused to meet his gaze.

In truth Wind Warrior knew what his son was feeling—Wolf Runner was a warrior of great commitment. But Wind Warrior also knew his wife needed to see her son safe. He had held her in his arms at night when she had awakened after having nightmares about their son’s death. She must have peace.

“I do not wish to hurt you, my mother, but the ranch should go to my brother, who has always loved it. As for me, I am done with the white man’s world. And even if I was not, I feel honor bound to complete the task set to me by the council. I will find and destroy the Cheyenne warrior who killed our women.”

His father touched his shoulder. “Others have already taken up that duty. Although Night Fighter is elusive, they will soon find him. Your mother has signed the proper papers and Mesa del Fuego now legally belongs to you. That makes it your responsibility to decide what is to be done about the ranch.”

Not liking the thought that others would take up his fight, Wolf Runner turned to his mother. “That would mean I would be gone for months. You have no connection to the ranch. Your parents died when you were but a baby and you have no memory of them. Until you came to our village you lived at Fort Benton with Aunt Cora and Uncle Matt. Why does this place suddenly mean so much to you?”

Rain Song blinked to keep from crying. She could not tell him that his near death haunted her and she
wanted to send him away until Night Fighter was found. She could not keep all danger from him, but she could, and would, keep this one away. “What is important to me is that you go to the ranch.”

Wolf Runner dreaded the thought of making the trip to Santa Fe, in New Mexico Territory, but he could not deny his mother. “When do you want me to leave?”

“You will not be going alone,” Wind Warrior told his son. “Cullen Worthington will be arriving in three days to accompany you.”

Cullen was a friend of the family and visited them often. He had been a cavalry officer when his wife had been taken by the same Indian who had captured Rain Song. Sadly, Cullen’s wife did not live to reach the Blackfoot village. When Cullen resigned his commission, Rain Song had offered him the job of foreman of Mesa del Fuego, and he had agreed to take it.

Wolf Runner looked at his mother questioningly. “I will go and I will see this thing done.”

Rain Song placed her hand on her son’s. “Thank you. Remember when you get there, if it is your wish to sell the ranch, do so without hesitation. Cullen will help you with all the details.” She paused. “I have another matter I would ask you to look into while you are in Santa Fe. There is a woman called Ivy Gatlin who lives there. Although I do not remember her, Aunt Cora told me she was kind to me when my parents died.”

“What am I to do?” Wolf Runner asked, astonished because he had never heard of the woman.

“Cullen says Ivy wanted me to know that she is very ill and worried about her granddaughter. That is all I know.”

“You want me to visit her?”

Rain Song looked troubled. “More than that, I want you to see if she needs anything. If she does, take care of it for me.”