Feather in the Wind (21 page)

Tate Sapa grunted softly, frowning as he tried to imagine pictures that moved and told a story at the same time. “I think I should like to see these pictures that move.”

“I wish you could.”

“Tell me of your time, Su-san-nah.”

“Geez, I don’t know where to start. Hardly anything in my time is the way it is here. We don’t ride horses anymore. There are hardly any empty spaces left. Everyone is always in a hurry. We have machines that do practically everything… I don’t know how to explain what a machine is, except to say they do most of the work nowadays. Women don’t have to wash their clothes in the river, or cook over an open fire, the way the Indian women do. You just put your clothes in the machine, add some soap, and the machine washes your clothes for you. Same with cooking. You put the ingredients in a dish, put the dish in the microwave…”

“If people do not ride horses, how do they get from one place to another?”

“More machines. Some are called cars. Everyone has at least one. We have trains…have you seen a train?”

Black Wind nodded.

“Well, trains in my time are a lot faster than the ones you’ve seen. And we have airplanes…” Susannah pointed upward. “Airplanes travel across the sky, and can take you hundreds of miles in a short time.”

“Machines that travel through the air?” Tate Sapa shook his head. “That is not possible.”

“But it is. Let’s see, what else is different? Oh, we have telephones that let you speak to someone clear across the country, and computers…” Her voice trailed off. There was no way to explain computers. “In my time, women work.”

“Our women work,” Tate Sapa remarked.

“I don’t mean that kind of work. In my time, women don’t just stay home and look after their children. They hold down jobs. In my time, women are doctors and lawyers and police officers.”

“Who cares for their children?”

“We have places called day care centers that look after their kids.”

“I do not understand. Why do your women have children if they do not want to care for them?”

“Well…” Susannah began, and then stopped. It was a question she had often asked herself. Of course, there were women who worked because they had no other choice, but she knew a lot of women who didn’t have to work to put food on the table or clothes on their backs. They worked because they felt they were missing something by staying at home, as if being a “housewife” was something to be ashamed of. Personally, Susannah couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do. What could be more rewarding that staying home and watching your children grow up? How awful, if some baby-sitter saw her child take its first step, some stranger heard her child’s first word. Of course, she realized that, these days, when everyone was urging women to go out and “find themselves” that her views were definitely out of date. She had always been grateful that her mother didn’t work outside the home, that her mother was there, waiting, when she got home from school.

“It isn’t that they don’t want children,” Susannah said at length. “It’s just that some women like working outside the home. It doesn’t mean they don’t love their children.”

“It seems a strange kind of love to me,” Tate Sapa mused.

For a time, they walked in silence. It was eerie, to be walking across the plains in the dead of night while the earth was asleep. Fluffy white clouds drifted across the sky, playing hide—and-seek with the moon and the stars. Moonlight silvered the grass.

“Do you need to rest?” Tate Sapa asked after a while.

“I think so.”

“We will be there in a few hours,” Tate Sapa remarked. He found a smooth place and indicated Susannah should sit down, then he sat down beside her. Laying his rifle aside, he drew her into his arms. “Rest, Su-san-nah.”

She closed her eyes, grateful for the strong arms around her. Even out here, in the middle of nowhere, he made her feel safe. His love cocooned her, shutting out the rest of the world.

She placed one hand over her belly, smiling as she imagined her child growing there. Would it be a boy, she wondered dreamily, or a girl? She thought of the pictures she had once seen that depicted a fetus in the womb, sucking its thumb, and she was overcome with a sudden surge of love, a need to protect the tiny life growing beneath her heart.

Tate Sapa held her close, his hand lightly massaging her back as he thought of all the strange things she had told him about. Pictures that moved. Machines that flew through the air, cooked food, washed clothes and dishes. It was beyond his comprehension that such things could exist. Yet he had no doubt she was telling him the truth, that she had come to him from the future. How long would she be here, with him, and what would he do if she should go out of his life, if she should return to her own time?

“Su-san-nah?”

She blinked up at him. “Is it time to go?”

“I am afraid so.”

She nodded, then yawned, wishing she could sleep just a little longer.

Tate Sapa helped her to her feet, then took up his rifle. “Ready?”

Susannah forced a smile, determined not to complain.

It was, she decided, the longest walk she had ever made in her life. But, finally, the Micklin place came into view, the house looking like a huge beast crouched in the darkness.

A half-dozen dogs started barking the minute they approached the house. A short time later, a light appeared, then Susannah saw Abe peering out the window.

“It’s me, Mr. Micklin,” Susannah called, shouting to be heard above the incessant barking of the dogs. “Susannah Kingston.”

A short time later, the door swung open and Abe stepped out on the porch, holding a rifle in one hand and a lantern in the other.

“What the hell are you doing prowling around my place in the middle of the night?” he said, his voice as much a growl as that of his hounds.

Susannah spread her hands in a gesture of appeal. “We need a place to spend the night.”

“Agin?” Abe squinted into the darkness. “That Injun with you?”

“Yes.”

“Landsakes, Abe, it’s Susannah.” Hester bustled out onto the porch, pulling a robe on over a voluminous white nightgown. “Come on in, you two.”

Five minutes later, they were all seated at the kitchen table while Hester warmed a pot of coffee.

“So, tell me, what brings you back this way?” Hester asked. She took Susannah’s hand in hers and patted it. “I’ve missed you, child.”

“I missed you too,” Susannah said, and related, as briefly as possible, all that had happened since they had been gone.

Hester shook her head.”Well, I don’t know what to say. A traitor, indeed! I never heard of anything so foolish.”

“I didn’t see no horses out there,” Abe remarked. “How’d you all get here?”

“We walked,” Susannah said. She glanced at Black Wind and smiled. He hadn’t said anything since they entered the house.

“Walked! Landsakes, child, you must be exhausted.”

“I am a little tired,” Susannah admitted, although a little tired didn’t begin to describe how she felt.

“Well, I should think so. Finish your coffee while I get some bedding.”

Abe stared out the window. “Gonna be daylight soon,” he said sourly. “Long as I’m up, I might as well go tend the stock. I’ll leave the lantern in the barn for ya.”

“Thank you, Mr. Micklin.”

“Might as well call me Abe,” he said gruffly. Rising from the table, he clapped his hat on his head and left the house.

Susannah regarded Black Wind over the rim of her cup. “Are you all right?”

Tate Sapa nodded. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you haven’t said a word. And you seem sort of…distant.”

“I have much on my mind,
wastelakapi
.”

“I know.” She leaned across the table and took his hand in hers. “Promise me that you won’t leave me.”

“Su-san-nah…”

“Promise me, Tate. If you leave me here, I’ll just follow you.”

“Su-san-nah!”

“Well, I will. You just think about that before you go sneaking off in the middle of the night.”

“I will remember.”

“Say it.”

He grinned at her. “I promise not to leave you.”

“I have your word, as a warrior?”

“Yes,
wastelakapi
, you have my word, as a warrior and as your husband. I will not leave you.”

“Here you go,” Hester said. “Sheets and blankets. I’m sorry, I don’t have an extra pillow. There’s a nightgown there too. You all get some rest now.”

“Thank you, Hester.”

“Yes, thank you,” Tate Sapa added. “I am sorry I stole from you before.”

“
Pshaw
, don’t worry about it,” Hester said. “Abe never used that old saddle, and we got lots of blankets. We’re just glad to have you both back safe and sound. Go on, now, get some sleep. Come on up to the house when you wake up, and I’ll have some vittles waitin’. And hot water for a bath,” she muttered, thinking out loud. She glanced at Susannah’s stained tunic and shook her head. “I put those dresses you left behind back in the trunk. I’ll go dig them out later.”

Impulsively, Susannah kissed Hester on the cheek. “Hester, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Landsakes, child, I got a whole passel of clothes I can’t wear no more. You’re welcome to all of them. And hot water don’t cost nothing.”

“Thank you, Hester. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re welcome, honey. Now, you go on and get some sleep, the both of you.”

Abe had left the lantern in the barn, just as he’d said he would. Susannah quickly made a bed in one of the stalls, wondering, as she did so, if she would ever sleep on a real bed between clean percale sheets again.

Undressing, she pulled the voluminous nightgown over her head, then crawled beneath the covers of the makeshift bed. She was asleep the minute she closed her eyes.

Tate Sapa stood there a moment, watching her, thinking how lovely she was, how much he loved her, and the child she carried.

With a sigh, he stripped off his clothing, stretched out beside her and drew her into his arms. Later, he would decide what to do about returning to his people. For now, he needed rest, needed to have his woman close beside him.

Chapter Twenty

It was as if they had never been gone, Susannah mused that evening. Once again, she was attired in one of Hester Micklin’s calico dresses. The full skirt swished when she moved. It was a pretty dress, a dark-green print with a white lace collar yellowed with age. She had kept her moccasins, finding them more comfortable than the footwear of the day.

Black Wind had spent the day helping Abe clear some ground behind the house. Abe had been reluctant to accept help, but Black Wind had insisted, saying he wanted to do something in return for Abe’s letting them stay. In the end, Abe had given in. Susannah had gone to the window several times during the day, needing to assure herself that Black Wind was still there.

She had spent most of the afternoon helping Hester put up the last of the summer vegetables. It was a long, hot process, yet it had been fun too. Hester had a wry sense of humor and a hundred stories to tell. The men had come in at midday, hot and sweaty. Side by side, they had washed up at the sink, then sat down at the table. They made quite a pair, Susannah reflected, the old farmer and the young warrior. Under ordinary circumstances, the two of them would never have met.

She hummed softly as she set the table for dinner. She knew that, sooner or later, they would have to decide about returning to the village, but for tonight, she wanted to pretend everything was all right.

At dusk, the men came in and washed up at the sink, then sat down at the table.

Hester had covered the raw plank table with a bright blue cloth. A glass vase held a bunch of bright yellow daisies.

Hester and Susannah dished up the meal, then took their places. Abe glowered at Black Wind, muttered something about heathens at the dinner table, then bowed his head and said grace.

Black Wind watched as Susannah and Hester bowed their heads and, after a moment’s hesitation, did the same.

Abe, as usual, said little during the meal, all his attention apparently focused on eating. Black Wind didn’t have much to say either, leaving Hester and Susannah to fill the void.

Hester talked about the letter she had received from her sister in the East, about adding a room to the house next year, about the latest book she had received by mail order.

“Well, enough about me. How are you, Susannah? You look a might peaked.”

“I’m fine. I’m pregnant.” She hadn’t meant to say anything, but the words fairly flew out of her mouth and she realized how anxious she was to discuss it with another woman.

“Pregnant! Why, that’s wonderful. When’s the baby due?”

“I’m not sure.”

Hester ran an appraising eye over Susannah. “Well, you don’t look to be too far along,” she said, then grinned. “Another few months, and you’ll fill out that old dress of mine. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. A little nauseous in the mornings sometimes.”

“Well, that’s normal enough. A baby! Abe, ain’t that somethin’?”

“Yeah, somethin’. What’s for dessert?”

“Apple pie, love. No, you just sit,” Hester insisted when Susannah started to get up to help. “You need to get plenty of rest.”

“I feel fine, really.”

“I know you do. And I aim to see you stay that way while you’re here.” Hester smiled at Black Wind. “Congratulations, young man. You take good care of this little gal, hear?”

Tate Sapa nodded, pleased and amused by the older woman’s concern for Susannah. He thought it was too bad that all whites weren’t like Hester Micklin and her husband. Hester was kind and generous and, for all his complaining, Abe was a good man, one Tate felt he could trust.

Hester quickly cut four slices of pie, poured four cups of coffee, then sat down at the table again. “Maybe the two of you should sleep here in the house. Might be more comfortable than the barn.”

“We will stay in the barn,” Tate Sapa said.

Hester frowned at him, then smiled. “Like your privacy, do you? Well, can’t say as I blame you.”

Susannah felt her cheeks grow warm at the implication of Hester’s words, but she was glad Black Wind wanted to stay in the barn. And for just the reason Hester thought.

Later, after the dishes were done, Black Wind and Susannah took a walk down by the river.

“Susannah, I must go back to my people.”

“All right.”

“Will you not stay here?”

“Not a chance.”

He drew her into his arms and held her close. “Will our child be as stubborn as its mother, do you think?”

“I don’t mean to be stubborn, Tate, I’m just so afraid that if we’re separated, we may never find each other again.”

Tate Sapa rested his forehead against hers. It was a thought that had given him some concern too. She had come to him in such a miraculous way, the thought was always there, in the back of his mind, that she might be taken from him, spirited back to her own time, where he would never see her again. He lifted a hand to the eagle feather in his hair and wondered what would have happened if she had taken it when he offered. Had it truly been the means of bringing her to him, or was she a gift from
Wakán Tanka
, sent to fulfill his vision and ease his loneliness?

“When do you want to leave?” Susannah asked.

“Soon.”

“How will we get there?”

Tate Sapa blew out a deep breath. He had stolen a saddle and blankets from the Micklins in the past, though it had grieved him to do so, but he could not bring himself to steal their horses. The Micklins had been kind to them; he could not steal from them again, could not take something as valuable as their horses.

“I will ask Micklin if he will let us borrow two of his horses. If not…” He shrugged. There were other settlers not far from here.

“If not, what?”

“Perhaps he will let me do some work to pay for the horses.”

“What if he won’t? Do you intend to walk all the way to the village?”

“No.”

Susannah drew back so she could see his face. “What do you intend to do?”

“If necessary, I will steal the horses we need.”

“From Abe and Hester? You wouldn’t!”

“No,” he replied soberly, “but there are other settlers nearby.”

“You’d steal their horses?”

“I told you before, it is considered a coup to steal from the enemy.”

“But those settlers have done nothing to you.”

“They are still the enemy, Su-san-nah,” he replied quietly. Susannah nodded. Looking at it from Black Wind’s point of view, it wasn’t stealing, it was war. Still, she was relieved to know he wouldn’t steal from the Micklins.

Hand in hand, they walked back to the barn. It was warm inside, fragrant with the scent of hay and clean straw and sweet feed.

Susannah watched Black Wind strike a match and light the lantern. He placed it on the floor near the stall where their bedding was, then crossed the barn and closed the big double doors, shutting out the night, shutting out the rest of the world.

She watched him turn and walk toward her, his movements innately graceful, sensual. She felt excitement flutter in her stomach as he approached her, felt her heartbeat quicken in anticipation. They stood facing each other a moment and then, wordlessly, she began to undress him.

She loved the feel of his skin beneath her hands, loved to run her fingers over his broad shoulders, over his biceps. She removed his clout, her hands sliding down his thighs and over his calves. He had nice legs for a man, long and straight and well-muscled.

Straightening, she smiled up at him, shivering with delight as he unfastened her dress and slid it off her shoulders. She loved the touch of his hands. His fingers were long and strong, his palm calloused, yet ever gentle against her skin.

Tate Sapa cupped Susannah’s breasts, imagining them swollen with milk, picturing his child suckling there. Stooping, he ran his tongue over her breast. Sweet, he mused, so sweet. His hands slid down her stomach to rest on her belly. Soon, it would swell with his child. And then he felt Susannah’s hands moving over his back, her fingers trailing fire, and he forgot everything but the woman in his arms and the love he felt for her.

Removing the last of her undergarments, he drew her down on the blankets and kissed her hungrily, her smooth brow, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her lips. His tongue met hers and heat flooded through him. She tasted sweeter than wild honey, more intoxicating than the white man’s firewater.

His restless hands caressed her, loving the touch of her skin beneath his hands, the soft, urgent moans that rose in her throat as her body responded to his caresses. He kissed her neck, the pulse throbbing in her throat, the sensitive skin behind her ear, her shoulders. His tongue laved her breasts as he rose above her.

“Su-san-nah,
wastelakapi
…”

“Yes, oh yes!” She arched beneath him, welcoming the sweet invasion of his body, her arms folding around him to hold him close, closer, her hips lifting to draw him deeper, deeper, until they were as close as two people could be, bound together body and soul by the love they shared, by the desire that flamed between them, a pure golden fire that warmed them all night long.

* * * * *

Abe Micklin shook his head. “Can’t let ya have none of my stock,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry. “Only got the three horses, one fer ridin’ and the two work horses. Even if I could spare ’em, one of the work horses is lame, and ain’t neither one broke to ride.”

Tate Sapa nodded. “I understand.”

“I might be able to buy a couple from Kendall or McCracken,” Abe mused, referring to his two nearest neighbors.

“Are you sure you have to leave?” Hester asked as she refilled Abe’s coffee cup. “You know you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

“That’s kind of you, Hester,” Susannah said, “but we’ve got to go back and warn the village.”

“I hate to see you go. More coffee?”

“Yes please. And I hate to leave.”

Hester filled Susannah’s cup, then turned to Tate Sapa. “How about you, young man? More coffee?”

Tate Sapa nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Hester smiled. “You sure have nice manners for a…that is, I mean…”

“For an Indian?” Tate Sapa suggested mildly. He smiled at her. “My people also say please and thank you.”

“Well, of course they do! I didn’t mean…” A crimson flush stole into Hester Micklin’s cheeks. “Please don’t take no offense.”

“You have not offended me,” Tate Sapa assured her, his smile widening. “My people think the
wasichu
are barbarians.”

Hester looked offended for a moment, and then she grinned back at him. “Is that right?”

Tate Sapa nodded. “They think the whites are a peculiar people, to live in one place the whole year long. They also think it strange that you build square houses when all of nature is round.”

Hester put the coffeepot on the stove, then sat down beside Abe, her arms folded on the table. “Nature is round? Reckon you could explain that to me?”

“The moon is round. The sun is round. The sky is round. The stems of plants and the bodies of animals are round. The four winds circle the earth. Life itself is a circle. We are born, we live, we die, and return to the earth.”

“Well, now, ain’t that interestin’, Abe? Go on,” Hester urged, genuinely interested, “tell me more about what the Indians believe.”

“What do you wish to know?”

“Do your people believe in God?”

“Yes. We call Him
Wakán Tanka
.”

“That’s kind of pretty. Ain’t it, Abe?”

“I reckon.” Abe stood up and grabbed his hat. “I can’t sit here jawin’ all afternoon. I still got a day’s work to do.”

“I will help you,” Tate Sapa said. He stood up and offered Hester a smile. “Thank you for the meal.”

“You’re welcome.” Hester beamed at Susannah after the two men left the house. “I like your young man. I really do.”

Susannah sighed. “Me too,” she murmured. “Me too.”

Sitting back in her chair, Hester ran a hand through her hair, then smoothed her apron. “A baby,” she mused aloud. “It’s been years since I held a baby in my arms.”

“Do you have any children?” Susannah asked.

Hester nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. “Two boys,” she replied, her voice softer than Susannah had ever heard it. “They’re buried yonder, up on the rise behind the house.”

“Hester, I’m so sorry.”

“They died young, my babies. Abraham was only six months old when the Lord took him home. My Joshua only lived a week.”

Susannah placed her hand over her stomach, as if she could somehow protect her unborn child. “What happened?”

“Little Abe caught the pneumonia. Joshua was just born sickly. He was such a tiny little thing, hardly bigger than a minute.” Hester shook her head. “I tried to have another. My arms felt so empty. But the Good Lord didn’t see fit to send me another.” She stared past Susannah, a faraway look in her eyes.

“Sometimes I go up and talk to them. It comforts me somehow.”

Susannah nodded. She wished she could think of some words of comfort, some bit of universal wisdom that would ease the other woman’s heartache. She was a writer, words were her business, but she didn’t think there were enough words in all the world to ease the pain in Hester Micklin’s placid brown eyes.