Brave the Wild Wind (9 page)

C
HASE woke at dawn. He took his time getting back to the ranch, trying to think what to say to Jessie. He had ruined her first taste of love, and he wanted terribly to make her feel better.

Rachel was on the porch, looking especially lovely in a dress of spring green with rows of white ruffles that swept back into the bustle. Her golden hair was caught in a tight bun at her neck, with wispy curls at her temples.

She looked elegant. Rachel always looked elegant, demure and poised, as if nothing could ruffle her. It was one thing Jonathan Ewing had admired about her. And it was the only thing that irritated Chase about Rachel, that unnatural self-control.

“Goodness, Chase, you look like you’ve been out all night,” Rachel said as he drew up by the porch.

He looked down at himself and grinned, rubbing his stubbly chin. “I was. I couldn’t sleep last night and went for a ride. Only I got lost in the dark, so I bedded down until daylight.”

She shook her head. “Honestly, Chase, that’s not like you.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly been myself since I came here, Rachel,” he retorted. “That daughter of yours has a way of changing people.”

She ignored that. “Weren’t you supposed to begin work this morning?”

He was ashamed. He’d forgotten. “I guess I was. I suppose Jessie has already left?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel sighed. “She never tells me anything.”

“Well, mornin’, young feller.” Jeb came around the porch and spotted Chase. “Noticed your horse didn’t sleep in his stall last night. You just gettin’ back from somewhere?”

“Yep,” Chase replied, offering nothing further.

Jeb grunted, seeing he wasn’t going to get any more information. He turned to Rachel, dismissing Chase by giving him his back.

“Thought you’d better see this, so you don’t go gettin’ all fired up like before,” he told her grouchily.

She snatched the note from Jeb and read it quickly, groaning. “Not again.”

Chase dismounted and read the piece of paper.

“So where’s she gone this time, Jeb?” Chase demanded.

“Where she went last time,” Jeb said none too kindly.

“Are you going to start that again?” Chase exploded.

“You know where to find her, Jeb. You have to go after her,” Rachel said.

“Can’t do that.” He shook his head stubbornly. “Not unless she’s needed, like she says.”

Rachel turned to Chase, those big eyes so full of anxiety. “All right, Rachel,” he groaned. “I haven’t done this much riding since I covered California searching for my father.”

She placed a hand on his arm. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Chase.”

“I know,” he said. “But that daughter of yours won’t appreciate it when I catch up with her.”

He wasn’t at all pleased about this second wild-goose chase. And the fact that Jessie had run away made him feel decidedly uncomfortable after what had happened the night before. She was gone because of him.

I
T was so wonderful to be with White Thunder and his family again, wonderful to put away her guns and wear the Indian dress Little Gray Bird Woman had helped her make, to braid her hair and wrap fancy beaded and quilled thongs around her braids. It was wonderful. But it wasn’t the same as before, because there was an intruder this time.

Little Hawk had followed her to the Cheyenne village. He had not returned north at all but had stayed in the area. If he’d been skulking around, watching her, couldn’t he have seen her with Chase that night? She was more embarrassed than she’d ever been in her life. Why did he persist in following her? White Thunder couldn’t explain, saying only that Little Hawk had requested to speak with her.

She had managed to forget about Little Hawk the night before. She and White Thunder spent long hours talking, and she had unburdened herself to him, especially about her father’s death. His sympathy had managed to make her cry, which was good. Then she went on to tell him about Rachel and her recent troubles, but he had no solutions to offer. For some reason,
she said nothing about Chase. Perhaps she was too ashamed.

This afternoon, Jessie waited in the tepee with her friend for Little Hawk’s arrival. They had the large tepee to themselves. White Thunder’s little brother was off with his friends, using half-sized bows and arrows to hunt for prairie dogs and rabbits. Runs with the Wolf was outside gambling with some of the older men. Wide River Woman and Little Gray Bird Woman were tanning a buffalo hide behind the tepee, and their soft voices came to Jessie every so often. She had to grin at their conversation.

“I saw you smiling at Gray Kettle, daughter, and I have told you many times you must never exchange glances or smiles with a man, and certainly not one who is courting you.”

“But it was only a little smile, Mother,” Little Gray Bird Woman protested.

“Every little smile will lessen your worth. He will think he has already won you, so he will not offer so many horses. Do you want to be a poor wife?”

“No, Mother.” Little Gray Bird Woman’s voice was submissive. “And I will remember not to smile so much.”

“Not to smile at all, daughter,” Wide River Woman reprimanded. “And you must not let Gray Kettle or White Dog stay so long when they come to visit.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Has either of your young men asked you to marry?” Wide River Woman’s voice grew even more serious.

“No, not yet.”

“Well, you must remember to refuse the first time you are asked. Refuse gently, but let them know you are not an easy conquest.”

“But, Mother—”

“Listen to me. I tell you these things for your own good,” Wide River Woman said patiently. “Do not let either of your young men see you when you are alone, even the man you prefer. You must not let a man touch you, daughter, especially your breasts. If a man touches your breasts, he considers that you belong to him. Would you have your two men fighting each other because one boasts that he has won you before he has consent? No, you would not, for the one you prefer may lose. Have you made a choice yet? My husband favors White Dog, as I do, but if Gray Kettle should offer more, then…”

Their voices trailed off. Jessie’s face was bright red. She had let Chase Summers touch her breasts and do a great deal more. But he wasn’t an Indian. He’d not think she belonged to him. No, quite the opposite. Chase had known her in the most intimate way, then wanted nothing more to do with her!

White Thunder had been watching Jessie closely, and he’d known her for a long time.

“You blush. Have you been touched by a man, Looks Like Woman?” he teased.

Jessie gasped. Could he see into her mind? It was eerie and it had happened many times before.

“Do you wish to speak of it?” he asked hesitantly.

“No, not yet.”

“It was not Little Hawk?”

She laughed bitterly and he was shocked.

“At least he wouldn’t want a woman one minute, then decide she was unworthy of him the next.”

“Who has treated you this way?” White Thunder stood up. He was very angry.

“Sit down, my friend,” Jessie said gently. “I was probably as much to blame for what happened as he was. I was naive.”

“But you are hurt.”

“I will get over it.”

Jessie returned to pounding the wild cherries, pits and all, in a stone mortar. Later they would be dried and mixed with strips of buffalo meat and fat to make pemmican, a food that would keep for months.

He moved away from her, leaving her to her thoughts. Jessie was glad she had told him. He would understand now if she suddenly became moody.

White Thunder was such a wise, thoughtful man for one so young. He was, in fact, only two years older than she was. How she loved him, her dear friend! She glanced at him and smiled as he looked up at her.

The Cheyenne were the tallest of the Plains tribes, and White Thunder was six feet in height. He was disturbingly handsome, too, with those startling blue eyes inherited from his father. His skin was copper, but mostly from the sun. He was a young warrior who had already proved himself as fit as any man, stronger than most. She was proud of their friendship.

Little Hawk came in a few minutes later, en
tering the tepee silently. He wore a shirt reserved for special occasions, one made of the hide of the bighorn sheep. The long sleeves were fringed, as were his leggings, and the bead work was beautiful. There were also tassels and bits of metal and shells hanging here and there. On his braids were wrappings of white fur, and a single blue feather was attached, just like the feather he had left her.

White Thunder was impressed, and concerned. The way the Sioux was dressed portended something important, and he was afraid he knew what that something was. He was not pleased.

Little Hawk, following protocol, waited to be invited to sit. White Thunder let him wait for a moment, looking at Jessie to see if she understood the meaning of this visit. Finally he sighed and bade Little Hawk welcome, speaking in the Sioux tongue. Jessie watched them talking, growing impatient as the conversation continued without her understanding a word of it. She had thought Little Hawk was there to talk to her. She was becoming annoyed.

At last Little Hawk turned to her, and White Thunder said, “He asks permission to speak to you.”

Jessie replied, “But I have already agreed to speak to him. Isn’t that why he’s here?”

“He is asking formally now.”

Jessie repressed a grin at the absurdity of it. “Then I agree, formally.”

White Thunder continued solemnly, “He has also asked that I interpret for him.”

“But why? He speaks English.”

“He disdains to use it when it is not necessary,” White Thunder explained.

Jessie was irritated. “Then why did he learn it to begin with?”

“You wish me to ask him?”

“
I
can ask him,” she said curtly.

“Do not speak with him directly,” White Thunder warned quietly. “Do not look at him so boldly, either, or reveal what you are thinking.”

She laughed. “Do you know you sound just like your mother?”

“Be serious, woman.” White Thunder frowned at her. “
He
is serious. Besides, for what he intends, it is customary for him to speak through a third person.” He raised a questioning brow at her. “Do you understand now?”

Jessie’s forehead crinkled in a frown. What was he trying to tell her? She had never known White Thunder to be so cryptic.

“Perhaps if we just got on with it,” Jessie suggested, glancing apprehensively at Little Hawk.

The two men spoke at length, and Jessie’s apprehension grew when it became obvious that they were arguing. If she only had some inkling of what the meeting was all about.

The men fell silent, and Jessie found she’d been holding her breath. When neither man spoke again, she prompted, “Well?”

“It is as I guessed,” White Thunder told her shortly. “He wants you to be his woman.”

Jessie was speechless. She told herself she ought not to be surprised, but she was.

She turned to Little Hawk then, and their eyes locked for a moment before she looked
away. Yes, he did want her. Suddenly she was flattered. This was soothing balm after the despicable way Chase had treated her.

“Just his woman, or his wife?” she asked hurriedly.

“His wife.”

“I see…” Jessie gazed up toward the top of the tepee, musing.

White Thunder was taken aback. “You are not considering accepting?”

“What did he offer for me?”

“Seven horses,” he answered.

“Seven?” Jessie was impressed. “Why so many? Is he rich?”

“Simply determined, I think. One horse would be for me, for agreeing to speak for him, since he has no close friend here to do so. Two horses would be given to Runs with the Wolf, since it is his tepee you occupy. The other four are for you, and will remain yours, along with all your own possessions.”

“And the tepee,” she prompted, knowing that a tepee was considered the wife’s property.

“No, not the tepee,” White Thunder confessed gently. “This was the main reason I told him it would not work. He already has a first wife.”

“He does?”

“Yes.”

“I see,” Jessie said stiffly.

Why she was suddenly so angry she didn’t know. Perhaps because it had been nice to feel wanted, to forget about her troubles at the ranch. A fairy tale, however.

“Tell Little Hawk I am flattered,” Jessie said,
“but I cannot possibly accept. Tell him white women do not share their husbands. I will not be a second wife.”

To Jessie’s relief Little Hawk accepted her refusal gracefully. He had a few more words with White Thunder, then left the tepee.

“He said he expected your refusal this first time,” White Thunder told her gravely. “He seems to think you will get used to the idea and change your mind.”

“Oh!” Jessie was getting worried. “I suppose he will stick around, to press his suit?”

“I can guarantee you have not seen the last of him,” replied White Thunder.

Jessie shook her head. A few days before, she had been without a man and as free as you please. Now she had more than she cared to handle.

I
T was late afternoon of the fourth day that Chase had been on the trail. He had never thought he would have to come this far. He had stopped at Ft. Laramie, spending a night there, and had been directed to White Thunder’s village. He knew this would be the right place. It had to be. There was no other settlement nearby.

The village looked peaceful enough in the late afternoon sun. Children were playing. He could see women working, men gathered in groups. There were many horses tethered by the tepees, meat hung up to dry, skins spread out for tanning. It seemed a prosperous village, and tranquil. He crouched near a creek, watching. Could this be where she was?

His question was answered immediately, when he moved a little way down the creek to where an overgrowth of shrubbery and trees blocked the village from view. He had meant to hide there, but he stopped when he saw a woman bathing in the creek. She was naked to her waist, and she wore an Indian breechcloth. Chase moved closer to the bank, leading his
horse carefully. He was far enough away that she couldn’t see him.

He forgot about the village, forgot everything as he watched her bathing. It was Jessie. He was sure of it. Her hair was loose and clinging to her wetly. Lord, she was beautiful, a goddess kissed by the sun. Her breasts were much fuller than he remembered, unencumbered by a shirt. They stood high and proud above her tiny waist and gently swelling hips. Chase was mesmerized. Why was she so special, so lovely?

His musings came to a sharp halt when he saw that Jessie was speaking to someone. Then he saw the Indian. He was sitting, with his back against a gnarled tree. The Indian wasn’t facing Jessie, but he turned to look at her when she spoke to him.

Chase was furious. A man was watching Jessie bathe! It was a shame his fury overcame him, because he lost all awareness of his surroundings. Black Bear Hunter, White Thunder’s older brother, was moving slowly toward the white stranger. From his position, he could not see Jessie or White Thunder, the man who was talking to her. It appeared only that the white stranger was spying on his village. Black Bear Hunter approached Chase ever so cautiously.

Jessie managed to put Little Hawk from her mind as she let the cold creek water trickle over her body. She and White Thunder had often taken baths together when they were younger, but Wide River Woman had put a stop to that when Jessie’s body began developing curves.
White Thunder still accompanied her, however, to protect her.

It was really because of Black Bear Hunter that White Thunder was there. He was the only one in the village who had never tolerated Jessie’s visits. Twice the brothers had argued over her. And several times Black Bear Hunter had come upon Jessie alone and frightened her terribly.

She had not seen Black Bear Hunter last year, or during this visit. She knew he had recently taken a wife and had his own tepee. She wondered if he was perhaps less severe now.

Jessie broached the question to White Thunder, calling over her shoulder, “Does your brother still hate me?”

White Thunder was so surprised by the question that he forgot himself and turned to look at her. “But he has never hated you.”

“Of course he has.”

White Thunder turned away quickly. It had been a long time since he had seen her without clothes. His face heated. It had happened before, and he was furious with himself whenever it happened. He could not bear what he sometimes felt for her. They were friends. He would not jeopardize that.

“Did you hear me, White Thunder?”

“Yes,” he called back without looking at her. “But you are wrong in mistaking what he feels for hate.”

“But you know how he’s always been,” Jessie reminded him.

“He did not like it that you came here, but only because you were white like my father, the
one who took Wide River Woman away from her first husband, Black Bear Hunter’s father. He lost his father because of that, and he bears a grudge against whites, all of them.”

“But I was a child. I was blameless.”

“He knew that. He even came to regret his treatment of you, but it was too late by then.”

“Why? I would have understood.”

“Yes, but would you have understood all the reasons for his change? You see, he found himself wanting you.”

She was surprised, and a little disbelieving. “He had a funny way of showing it,” she scoffed.

“Because you are white. Because he could not permit himself to want a white woman. He took pains never to let you know. He was harsh because it was not easy to conceal what he felt for you.”

“But how do you know this, White Thunder?” Jessie asked. “Did he tell you?”

“No. I just know.”

“Well, you could be wrong, couldn’t you?”

“I doubt it. But would you prefer to go on thinking he hates you, when that is not true?”

“Yes, I would.” She was quite serious. “It is rather disconcerting to suddenly find I am wanted by so many men. I am not used to it, and I don’t understand it. It is not as if I am a vision of beauty, you know. I’m usually sweaty and dusty from work, and dressed in pants. Why, Little Hawk didn’t even see me in a dress until today. Yet he and Chase—”

“So that is the name of the other one?” White Thunder interrupted.

“We will not discuss
him
,” Jessie said stonily. “Just tell me, is Black Bear Hunter happy with his wife? Can I expect less hostility from him now?”

“He is happy, but how he will feel about you I cannot say.”

“Where is he?”

“He went hunting, and he should return any time. In fact—” White Thunder stood up, his expression alert. “I believe that is his victory cry. You hear it?”

“Yes. You go ahead, White Thunder. I’m almost finished.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes. Little Hawk will be inspecting Black Bear Hunter’s prize, so he won’t bother me, and I’m not worried about anyone else. Go on.”

Jessie finished washing her hair. She didn’t hurry. As much as she had on her mind, she wasn’t curious about Black Bear Hunter’s prize. She would hear of it later, she was sure.

Imagine Black Bear Hunter wanting her, too! She shook her head, bemused. It was all so strange, the different aspects of wanting. Blue had wanted her. Little Hawk wanted her. Chase had wanted her, but only for the one time. And Black Bear Hunter fought his desire, continually hostile because he wanted her. In all of that, where was love? Rachel had only pretended to love Thomas, and what Thomas had felt couldn’t be called love, for it had turned to hate. In books, real love was bountiful, but Jessie had never seen two married people display the kind of love she had read about. Was there really any such thing as love?

A little while later, dressed, her hair still wet but braided in two neat plaits, Jessie turned toward the narrow path leading up to the camp. Little Hawk stood there, blocking her way, standing with his feet slightly apart, his arms crossed over the wide expanse of his chest. He had removed his ceremonial shirt and his leggings, and was wearing only his breechcloth and moccasins.

Jessie managed to hide her surprise. She stared levelly at him.

“If you are finished, I will walk you back,” Little Hawk offered.

“So now you will speak English?”

“When it is only the two of us, it is necessary,” he replied with a shrug. Then he said abruptly, “You should not be here without the gun you carry on your hip.”

“It wasn’t needed. I wasn’t alone until just before you came. You did
just
come, didn’t you?”

“If I say yes, will it make you happy?”

“What kind of answer is that?” Jessie snapped.

“You would rather hear that I came while you were still drying yourself?”

Jessie’s eyes blazed. “Why didn’t you make yourself known? You had no right to…to stand there and watch me!”

“You let White Thunder watch you.” He made the observation calmly.

“He didn’t watch me,” she insisted. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s my friend. I trust him.”

Little Hawk grinned. “You will learn to trust me.”

“How can I when you sneak up on me?”

“Hold, Looks Like Woman.” He cut her off and in two steps he was beside her, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Why are you angry? Do you begrudge me the sight of you when I have made my intentions clear? Is it not reasonable for a man to seek out the woman he has asked to marry? I did not know I would find you as I did, but I am not sorry. The sight of you gave me much pleasure.”

He went on to say something more, but he had switched to his own language, and while Jessie was confused at the change, he kissed her.

It was a shock. She felt it right down to her toes. It frightened her, and she was powerless to resist.

When he finally let her go, he stood looking at her intently, passionately. He smiled, thinking he had won that round. “You have the sky and the forest both in your eyes, and when you are angry, they light up like the stars. But you must learn to curb your temper, Looks Like Woman. My first wife is a gentle woman—she would not understand these emotions of yours that rage like storms.”

“You needn’t worry!” she said hotly. “I won’t be meeting your wife—ever. And I can walk back to camp myself, thank you.”

She tried to pass him, but he caught her arms. “Does it bother you this much that I have a first wife?” he asked softly.

“Of course it does.”

“But I can love you both.”

“I know your customs,” she said defensively.
“But I am from a different culture, and I couldn’t be happy sharing a husband.”

“Then I will give up my wife.”

“Don’t you dare!” Jessie gasped. “I couldn’t bear that. I couldn’t live with myself if you did that. You must care for her.”

“Yes, but I want you, Looks Like Woman.”

Jessie wanted to scream. “Look, I’m not even a virgin,” she said quietly, her cheeks turning rosy. “So forget about me and—”

“That does not matter.”

“It doesn’t?” she asked, disbelieving.

“No.”

Having nothing further to say to him, she pushed away and ran up the path.

He let her go but called after her, “A Sioux does not give up easily, Looks Like Woman.”

“You’d better learn to!” she shouted back at him just before she broke through the bushes and saw the camp.

She heard him laugh and ran faster, running all the way to Runs with the Wolf’s tepee.