Read Capture the Sun (Cheyenne Series) Online
Authors: Shirl Henke
Capture the Sun (Cheyenne Series) (59 page)
Just then Hawk rode away from the two men he had been conferring with, toward the hill where Carrie waited. As soon as he drew near she could tell the news was good.
“See, I jist had me a feelin',” Kyle said, grinning at Perry.
“You always seem to ‘have a feeling’ when anything turns out good, Uncle Kyle,” Perry said, returning the smile.
Hawk escorted his family proudly into the encampment, smaller now than it had been four years earlier. The ravages of disease and harsh winters had shrunken the population even further. But Iron Heart lived.
“I would see my grandson once more before I die.” He had spoken to the council, who had honored his wishes and rescinded the exile of Hunting Hawk after four years.
His sharp old eyes, still bright despite his advancing years, studied the woman. Daughter of the Sun, Little Otter had called her. It was a good name for the proud, beautiful wife of Hunting Hawk. She stood calmly with her children, waiting for him to speak. They were all gathered inside his lodge for this private reunion. There would be feasting with the whole village tonight, but now the old man searched their faces, in silence.
“It is good you have returned, Hunting Hawk and Daughter of the Sun.” He looked at them with love and pride in his usually impassive face. “And how are my great-grandchildren called?” He looked at Hawk, who knelt with his sons.
“The eldest, who you met when he was a babe, is Peregrine, an English name for the hunting hawk.” The tall, black-eyed child looked gravely at his great-grandfather, awed by such age and majesty, but sensing a kinship to that austere, yet kindly face.
“This is Ferris; his name means iron.” Iron Heart studied his namesake, whose thick black hair and coppery skin proclaimed his Cheyenne heritage. However, he had his mother's clear, bright-green eyes. He squirmed in his father's restraining grasp, eager to explore the mysteries of the lodge.
“And this is Carolina,” Hawk said proudly as he exchanged his son, taking his daughter from Carrie's arms. “She is named for her mother, whose name means One Who Is Strong.” Caro watched her father with liquid-gold eyes, listening to the low, familiar cadence of his voice. Her dark curls were burnished with red and her eyes were a golden brown, but her skin was as dark as her brother's coppery hue. Without a doubt, however, the delicate features were Carrie's.
“They please me greatly,” Iron Heart said simply to Hawk. “I am content now, for I can see that the prophesy has been fulfilled and an old man's meddling has not changed what was meant to be.”
“You mean our dream?” Carrie questioned quietly, taking Ferris into her arms.
Iron Heart's expression was puzzled. “Hunting Hawk's dream, yes, daughter. His medicine dream. He has told you of it?”
“We share it, Grandfather. Carrie had the same dream I did, at the same time. She told me of hers before she knew of mine.”
For a moment the old man's eyes flashed with amazement; then he nodded. “So, it was doubly fated to be.”
Iron Heart watched the subtle interplay between husband and wife and knew that it was right this time for his grandson. “I once wanted to keep you here with the People, but in my heart I knew it was wrong. I, too, pondered your medicine dream, which said you would take something from He Who Walks in Sun—his land? His woman? Or the son he thought to have?”
Hawk and Carrie exchanged glances. Then Hawk said, “Does our love and our firstborn displease the Powers?”
“No, I do not think so. I displeased them when I urged you to wed Wind Song and live here. I knew the dream. I should have let it fulfill itself. Because of my meddling, much unhappiness followed; but now, I have lived to see things set right. The Powers are kind to a foolish old man.”
“Then you are truly pleased with your great-grandchildren? It—it does not bother you that they are more white than Cheyenne?” Carrie's voice was uncertain, yet hopeful.
Hawk looked at his grandfather and smiled, for he knew what Iron Heart would say.
“One of our great chiefs said almost a lifetime ago, ‘We were a small people and good captives made us more, so now there is scarcely one among us who is not a foreigner by blood!’ You did not come to my grandson as a captive, Daughter of the Sun, but your blood has enriched us all the same. You are a part of the People. When we are gone and our way of life has vanished, we will live on in your children and their children.”
About the Author
SHIRL HENKE lives in St. Louis, where she enjoys gardening in her yard and greenhouse, cooking holiday dinners for her family and listening to jazz. In addition to helping brainstorm and research her books, her husband Jim is “lion tamer” for their two wild young tomcats, Pewter and Sooty, geniuses at pillage and destruction.
Shirl has been a RITA finalist twice, and has won three Career Achievement Awards, an Industry Award and three Reviewer’s Choice Awards from
Romantic Times
“I wrote my first twenty-two novels in longhand with a ballpoint pen—it’s hard to get good quills these days,” she says. Dragged into the twenty-first century by her son Matt, a telecommunication specialist, Shirl now uses two of those “devil machines.” Another troglodyte bites the dust. Please visit her at
www.shirlhenke.com
.