Destiny Mine (28 page)

Kionee noticed that the setting sun gave a fading blue sky kisses of vivid colors which warmed her soul. A full moon was making an early ride on the eastern horizon, still pale at this time of day. The wind was calm for a while. This section of Medicine Mountain was quiet, holy, isolated. No peril harmed or threatened any visitor, as all tribes honored the sanctity of this ancient spot. During the passings of many seasons, truces had been formed with other bands—even with most Crow—which allowed everyone to use this vital place in privacy and peace, as it was revered by all. So far, no man—friend, foe, or ally—had broken that agreement, for which Kionee was grateful.

It had been twelve cycles of seasons since she met Stalking Wolf and her destiny changed again. No, she refuted, not changed, only taken its rightful path. It had been eleven springs since the birth of their son, Little Stone. It had been eight since the birth of their first daughter, Morning Dew, five since the birth of a boy named Blazing Sun, and two since
the
birth of a girl called Golden Dawn. Their two sons and two daughters were happy and obedient children. The oldest boy was in training as a hunter; one day, to be a warrior. Her daughters and youngest son were delights, and she cherished each of them, as did great-grandparents Big Hump and Morning Light, whose tipi was near theirs.

The colorfully painted tipi of Stalking Wolf and Kionee was large and comfortable and neat. Between her mate’s prowess and her own learned skills, they wanted for nothing. Strong and able, she had refused friends’ offers of captives to help with her chores. She
was relieved Stalking Wolf had no hunger for more than one mate—a custom of his people, not hers—as she knew she could not share him with another woman. She remembered him telling her, even before he knew she was a female, that he would love only one woman and take one mate for life, as did the wolf, his spirit sign. He not only had kept his word, but revealed no desire to ever change it.

Long ago, she had been welcomed into the Cheyenne band, and honored once more for her past coups. No member had forgotten she—as Kionee—had saved their esteemed chiefs life and their Sacred Arrows. Four winters past, Five Stars had become chief of the Strong Hearts and Keeper of the Sacred Arrows. Everyone, including his three mates and seven children, considered Five Stars a brave and wise leader, as did she.

Kionee was overjoyed that her family and tribe were safe and well. Her parents and little brother had wonderful lives, thanks to Regim. The past
Tiva-Chu
had not taken a mate but was happy and fulfilled being the Hunter-Protector and the trainer of Comes-Late for Strong Rock’s tipi. Her grandparents still lived tranquil and healthy lives, as did Four Deer and his family. Even Little Weasel had given up his ugly thoughts and ways, under the influence of his best friend and now chief, Night Walker, who had changed dramatically because of Taysinga’s love. Bear’s Head and Spotted Owl still walked on Mother Earth and served the Hanuevas on their council and as shaman. The girl named for her, Ae-Culta-Kionee, was now twelve, and had two brothers. She saw her family and friends almost every summer on the grasslands, and sometimes at the annual intertribal trading camp. One past love she had not seen since leaving the canyon of the river wind was Maja; yet, she somehow sensed the silver wolf and his mate were
alive and running free somewhere, members of a strong pack they had created.

Other changes had come to this vast territory. The large Cheyenne Nation had divided into two groups: the Northern and the Southern. The Strong Hearts stayed with the Northern branch and in this territory, for which Kionee was relieved and grateful since it kept her close to her people and on familiar terrain.

Large and strong men with white skin and furry faces had come five winters past to trap—with permission—in the streams and rivers; most had become friends with Cheyenne, Crow, and Hanueva. The pale-skinned men who sought pelts looked nothing like Adam Stone or his father. To her, they had strange ways and appearances, but they were genial and respectful of the Indians and of Mother Nature. A few had taken Cheyenne or Crow mates—wives, they called them—but no Hanueva female had joined one and gone to live and work in the same type of “cabin” where her love was born after his father—also a trapper—joined Big Hump’s daughter.

Kionee fingered the gold locket on a gold chain around her neck which carried pictures of her love’s family: his father and his grandparents. Stalking Wolf had given it to her on their joining day when she was adorned in the beautiful white buffalo-hide dress and moccasins. She kept those precious garments packed away and wore them on special occasions, as they still fit her slim and firm figure. She was happy being a female in all ways, and did her role with skill. She had no doubts this was meant to be her true rank in life. Sometimes, she admitted, she missed being a huntress who roamed the woods and plains at will; during those times, her kind love would take her into the forest with him to track and hunt while his generous grandparents lovingly watched over the four children. On a few occasions, she had missed the exciting and stimulating buffalo
chase; but she agreed with Stalking Wolf that it was too risky a diversion to indulge in. Two things she had never missed were wearing a
tiva
mask and a binding breast band. She touched her clean face in delight of feeling flesh instead of layers of paint.

Stalking Wolf came to stand beside her. He hated to disturb her memories, so spoke softly. “Darkness comes soon, my love.”

She faced him and smiled. “I am ready to leave.”

His gaze swept over her flowing hair, tresses as black and shiny as the bunting’s feathers beneath the sun. Her skin was still soft and flawless, and invited his touch. Her body, small and taut, aroused his desires. “You steal my breath when I look upon you. My love is strong and endless. If we did not have children waiting for us, I would carry you to our mat and—”

Kionee’s fingers touched his full lips and halted the remainder of his wishful and stirring words. “They are fine with your grandparents for a short time. There is a place over there,” she said, pointing to one in the distance, “where we can steal a visit alone if we hurry, as we did long ago when our love was forbidden.
Maheoo
will not mind, for He has smiled upon us and we do not use the sacred site.”

The Cheyenne warrior chuckled and caressed her soft cheek. “It is true, my love, my heart, my Morning Dove.”

Hemene, the mate and mother—no longer Kionee, The Huntress and Guardian—took a grinning Stalking Wolf’s hand and guided him toward the beckoning arms of rapturous and never-ending love and passion.

For those of you who enjoy learning more about the Native Americans I feature in many of my novels, you should know that the Hanueva tribe and words used in this story are fictional. I based my imaginary Indian band on the historical Nahane tribe, on their legend and custom of boyless families making “sons” of their oldest daughters at age five. These girls were reared and trained to be hunters and protectors, to live and dress and behave as men. They wore the ovaries of a she-bear in a pouch on their belts. If you want more information on the Nahane, contact your local public library and/or bookstore.

The Cheyenne and Crow nations and languages used herein are factual. More information about them is available from the library; bookstores; Indian colleges; certain reservations and missions; the National Museum of the American Indian in Arlington, VA; and the Bureau of Indian Affairs, United States Department of The Interior in Washington, DC.

The sacred and mystical Medicine Wheel—builders, origin, purpose, and date unknown—is located in the Big Horn Mountains on highway 14-A, thirty-four miles east of Lovell in the state of Wyoming. The giant wheel, stone cairns, and worn travois trails are still visible and
are accessible by road. The Great Arrow, fifty-eight feet long and five-and-a-half feet wide, which points toward the mysterious Wheel, is located on a hogback east of Meeteetse. Pumpkin Buttes, a landmark for past travelers, is northwest of Pine Tree Junction. Mile-high Laramie Peak is visible for a hundred miles from the north, east, and south. It was a landmark to past travelers, and on the Oregon Trail, and is located in Medicine Bow Forest, twenty-five miles northwest of Wheatland. Two other areas of enormous beauty and historical meaning are the Powder River Country and Wind River Canyon, also in glorious Wyoming.

I hope you enjoyed Kionee’s and Stalking Wolfs story, and Maja’s!

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