Savage Spring (2 page)

She threw herself into his outstretched arms and beamed up at him. “I love you, my husband.” She laid her soft cheek
against his rough one, reveling in his strength when he swung her into his arms.

“Always love me, Morning Song.” His voice was deep, and he tightened his arms about her. “Never stop loving me!”

She reached up and framed his handsome face with her hands. Sometimes it was still hard for Morning Song to believe that this young golden god loved her and that she was his wife. “Oh, Tag, I love you more than life itself. To stop loving you, I would have to die.”

He gave her a heart-warming smile. “Why do you never call me by my Indian name, Morning Song?” he asked, kissing her on the cheek.

She laced her hands through his golden hair. “To the rest of the tribe, you are Night Falcon—but to me, you will always be my Tag.”

He laughed heartily and set her on her feet. “You and Joanna will always keep me in my place by reminding me who I am, will you not?”

Morning Song smiled mischievously. “As long as your place is beside me.”

Tag allowed his eyes to roam over Morning Song. Her doeskin gown was fringed and beaded with blue beads and green porcupine quills. The fullness of the gown hid the fact that she was carrying his child. Tag reached for her and clasped her tightly against him, feeling the roundness of her stomach. Turning her around, he molded her backside against him and lightly caressed her swollen stomach.

“I am getting anxious for the child to be born. It will be a new and exciting experience to be a father,” he told her tenderly.

“You will not have long to wait, my husband. My mother says the child will be delivered before the new moon,” Morning Song told him.

“In that case, we had better see that you do not overwork. I want you to start taking better care of yourself. I will see that Joanna and your mother help you.”

“Please do not say anything to them. Already my mother and your sister treat me as an invalid. I am very strong and can take care of my duties to you and our tipi without help. I like doing things for you, my husband.”

His laughter was deep as he took her arm and led her back to the village. As always, his laughter was infectious, and Morning Song felt her heart growing lighter. Tag had filled her life with laughter and happiness. She knew no one could possibly be as happy as she was.

By the time they reached the village, it had begun to snow. Tag lifted Morning Song into his arms and carried her into their tipi. Once inside, he laid her down and dropped down beside her. Morning Song shivered with feelings of delight as his hand trailed down her neck and across her breasts to rest on her stomach. She saw desire fan to life in the depths of his blue eyes and felt an answering longing within herself.

“Hurry and have our child, Morning Song. I want to make love to you.”

She touched a strand of his hair. “I, too, want this. You will not have to wait too much longer, my husband.”

Tag pulled away from her, knowing he must put his desire aside before it raged out of control. Morning Song was too near her delivery date for him to make love to her.

“Perhaps I should take another wife to satisfy the fire that burns within me,” he said teasingly. Tag watched the pain dance fleetingly across Morning Song’s face, and was immediately sorry that his teasing had hurt her.

“It is your right to take another wife if you so desire,” she whispered through trembling lips.

Tag tilted her face up to him, and a tear dropped onto his hand. “My sweet Morning Song—I will never have any need for another wife—I was but jesting. I shall live to be an old man without ever having loved any woman but you. Have we not loved each other since we were children?”

Morning Song nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “I would not object if you were to enforce your right in taking another wife,” she said with effort.

He smiled. “I think no one would want to be a wife to me. If I took another, all she would ever do would be the cooking and cleaning while I lay on the mat with you.”

Morning Song laughed delightedly. “I was not telling the truth when I said I wouldn’t mind, Tag. I do not like the thought of your touching another woman.”

Tag leaned forward and captured her lips with his. A warmth and contentment spread throughout his body. When Morning Song was in his arms, he could forgot about the restlessness for a time.

Morning Song turned her head and kissed his cheek. “Tag, I know of this feeling inside you that will not give you peace. I feel this part of you that cries out to the white world. If it is your wish to go and face this thing that causes your unrest, I will understand. Go and settle this thing between you and your uncle. I will wait for you to return.”

Tag pulled her tightly against him. He had not been aware that Morning Song sensed his troubled thoughts. He should have known he could hide nothing from her.

“I will never leave you. One day I will come to terms with what my uncle did to me and Joanna. Bear with me until that day, Morning Song.”

“Tag, you have never told me what your uncle did to you and Joanna. I have never asked because I thought if you wanted to talk about it, you would come to me.”

“It is not that I was trying to keep anything from you, Morning Song. I did not want to trouble you with my problems, and I never wanted the ugliness to touch my life with you.”

“Do you not know by now that your troubles are my troubles, Tag? Share this thing with me so you will not have to carry it alone.”

He sat up and looked toward the tipi opening. “It is not a pretty story, Morning Song.”

“More the reason you should not carry it alone,” she said, laying her head in his lap and clasping his hand in hers.

He looked down at her, and Morning Song could see the
pain in the depth of his blue eyes. “Yes, perhaps if I share it with you, it will help.” His eyes took on a faraway look as if he were remembering.

“Morning Song, Joanna and I were born in a place called England. It is a very long way from here…across the big waters.”

“I know about England—Joanna showed me a picture in one of your books. The United States once belonged to England.”

“Yes, that is right,” Tag said, smiling at how well Joanna had taught Morning Song her history. Joanna had also taught her to read and write, an accomplishment of which his little wife was very proud.

“Joanna and I sailed to America with our mother and father when we were but children. My father was a successful shipbuilder, and he had moved his headquarters to this country,” Tag said, slipping from the Blackfoot language into English without even realizing it.

“For a time, we were happy, even though my father was hardly ever home, as his business took him all over the world. When I was but twelve, my mother died. Her death came at a time when my father was away. Little did Joanna and I know at that time that our father would soon be dead also and our fate would be in the hands of our unscrupulous Uncle Howard.”

“What does unscrupulous mean, Tag?”

“It means a man who has no qualms about what is right and wrong. My uncle wanted my family’s fortune. You see, my father was a very wealthy man, and as his heir, I would inherit all that had belonged to him.”

“I know that your uncle once captured Joanna and tried to take her back to the white world, but Windhawk saved her.”

“Yes, that’s right. Uncle Howard would do anything to get his hands on me and Joanna. You see, he cannot have what, by rights, belongs to me. He can only be in charge of the estate until I return to reclaim it.”

Morning Song’s eyes seemed to cloud over. “If you went
back, you would live in one of the grand houses that Joanna showed me in a picture book. I can see why you are often troubled.”

“That isn’t what troubles me, Morning Song. It’s the fact that my uncle stole from me and Joanna. That is very hard for me to accept. At times, I feel this anger inside that such a man is living in my home.” Unconsciously, his hand drifted down to rest against Morning Song’s swollen stomach. “By robbing me of my birthright, my uncle has also stolen our child’s birthright.”

Morning Song laid her face against his hand. “I am so sorry that this thing was done to you and Joanna. It is not right for a man to steal from another. It is very bad that such a man should not be punished.”

He smiled down at her. “Feel no sadness for me, Morning Song. I am happy here with you. I would not want to give up my life with you to return to the white world.”

Morning Song was wise enough to look into her husband’s heart. She knew she had made him happy, but there were times, like now, that he seemed to be pulled in two directions. She knew if it were not for her, Tag would return to reclaim what belonged to him. She also knew Tag would never be completely happy until this thing with his uncle was settled, and it saddened her greatly.

“I know that you and Joanna were traveling on a wagon train when my brother, Windhawk, first saw you,” she said, trying to distract Tag’s troubled thoughts. “My brother told me he loved Joanna from that first day.”

“Yes, your brother and my sister have the perfect marriage. Each loves the other above all else. It warms my heart just to be near them. My sister has been able to put the past behind her, while I have not.”

Tears gathered in Morning Song’s doelike eyes. “If only I had the power in me, I would erase all your unhappiness, my husband. If I thought it would make you happy, I would release you from our marriage so you would be free to return to the white world.”

Tag drew in a shuddering breath and held her close to him. “You are my happiness, Morning Song. Never say this to me again,” he said, lapsing back into the Blackfoot language.

Morning Song’s tears were wet against Tag’s face, and he knew that he couldn’t be happy without her. He had never known anyone with her goodness. She was the only totally unselfish person he had ever known. Her kindness to others was well known throughout the Blackfoot tribe.

“Do not let what I told you make you sad, Morning Song. Life is not always fair, but one can always have a certain amount of control over his destiny. My destiny is here with you and our unborn child. Never doubt that I love you, and that this is where I want to be.”

His lips covered hers, and Morning Song put all the love she felt for him into her kiss. This was a man like no other. He was so well respected in the Blood Blackfoot tribe that it was rumored he would one day be war chief—a title that went to only the strongest and bravest warriors…never before had it gone to a white man. But Tag had proven himself to be worthy of the Blackfoot, and if he had an enemy among the fierce warriors, Morning Song was unaware of it.

Morning Song could not help but wish that Tag would find the same happiness and serenity that his sister, Joanna, had. Joanna never seemed to think about the past. She was happy and contented as Windhawk’s wife. The love that she and Windhawk shared was so beautiful that it seemed to reach out to those around them, drawing them into its circle.

Closing her eyes, she wished with all her heart that the child she was carrying would bring Tag the peace he sought. She was wise beyond her young years, and she realized that she could only occupy a part of Tag’s heart.

Morning Song knew deep in her heart that one day Tag would have to return to the white world to find peace within himself. Perhaps when he left she would lose him, and he would never want to return. But until that time, she would
love him and take what love he gave to her. She knew that she loved Tag more than he loved her, although she doubted that Tag was aware of that fact.

Tag smiled down at her, and she felt her heart melt. Oh, yes, she could hold him for now…but not forever.

Joanna smiled to herself when her son, Little Hawk, came rushing into the lodge with his dark eyes shining brightly. He was a small replica of his father and such a joy to her. Little hawk grabbed her about the waist and giggled up into her face. “I love you, Mother,” he said, as his eyes danced with mischief.

“I love you, too, but I would love you even more if your face were clean. What have you been doing to get so muddy?” she wanted to know. Joanna pushed a dark strand of hair out of his face, and finding a clean spot on his cheek, kissed him soundly.

Little Hawk laughed and darted out of the lodge, returning to whatever children’s game he had been playing.

Joanna pushed her red-gold hair back from her face and smiled at Windhawk’s mother, Sun Woman. “That grandson of yours always seems to be getting into trouble. I think Windhawk is too indulgent with him at times.”

“He is the son and the grandson of chiefs,” Sun Woman said with pride. “It is good for a child to be active—it means he will grow up to be a strong warrior.”

“I suppose. But he does seem to get into trouble more often than most boys his age.”

“I know you are referring to his jumping into the river two moons ago. There was no harm done, and he did prove to the others that he could stay under the icy water longer than they could.”

“I have trouble finding as much pride in that accomplishment as you and Windhawk do, my mother. Little Hawk could easily have drowned.”

Sun Woman laughed. “But he did not. Instead, he proved himself to be very brave and fearless at the age of only five winters.”

Sun Woman noticed that her lovely daughter-in-law was frowning, and she knew Joanna was finding many of the ways in which the Blackfoot raised their children difficult to accept. “Let him go, my daughter. Allow him to run free with the other children. Coddle the new baby, but allow Little Hawk to find his own way.”

Joanna sighed. “I will…I know I have a tendency to overprotect him, but give me time to accept the Blackfoot ways. They are very different from the way I was brought up, my mother.”

Joanna walked over to the cradle and smiled down at her baby daughter, Sky Dancer, who was but two months old. “I believe it will be much easier to raise a daughter than it is a son, my mother.”

“It is so Joanna. I myself find great joy in my granddaughter. She will be a comfort to me in my old age. Perhaps Morning Song will have a daughter also.”

“You are not old, my mother. I myself cannot keep up with you.”

Sun Woman stared at Joanna, who looked strangely out of place in the Indian lodge. She lent an elegance to the simple doeskin gown she wore. Sun Woman had watched her son, Windhawk, change from a man who sought happiness but was unable to find it to a truly happy man when he had taken Joanna as his wife. Windhawk was a loving husband and father because of this white woman whom the Blackfoot called Flaming Hair. Joanna was looked up to and revered by the women of the tribe, not only as the wife of the chief, but because she commanded and deserved their respect. No one could say that Joanna was unworthy of their chief.

Joanna handed Sun Woman a warm drink of broth and
sat down beside her. “It will not be very long until Tag and Morning Song’s baby will be born, my mother. I look forward to the birth.”

Sun Woman nodded. “I will have three grandchildren before the full moon has passed. Both of my children are happy with their lives. What more can a woman ask for when she reaches my age?”

Joanna patted the older woman’s hand. She loved Sun Woman and was proud that her love was returned. “Tag is so anxious for the child to be born. I believe he will be a very good father.”

“This is so. I have not before spoken to you of the pride I have in your brother. He has made my daughter happy. You will know when Sky Dancer grows into a woman, that to see her happy will be a great joy to you.”

Joanna smiled slightly. In the Blackfoot tribe, a woman was forbidden to speak directly to her son-in-law. Therefore, Sun Woman had never told Tag how much she admired him. “You know my brother would be glad if he could hear these words from you, my mother. Since he cannot, I will speak them for you.”

Sun Woman squeezed Joanna’s hand. “I have two daughters and two sons. Although you and Tag are not children of my body, I love you as much as the two children who were born to me.”

Before Joanna could answer, the lodge flap was thrown aside and Windhawk entered, carrying his son by the seat of his leather britches. Little Hawk giggled delightedly as his tall father plopped him down in his grandmother’s lap.

“Do you know where I found your grandson?” he asked his mother.

“How would I know? Do I look like a shaman that I can read minds?” Sun Woman replied, laughing.

“You might not be so pleased with him if I told you that I found him climbing up the lodgepole in your tipi, and he fell off and broke some pottery,” Windhawk said dryly and without humor.

“Was he hurt?” Sun Woman asked, examining her grandson for cuts.

“He is not hurt, but you will have to replace some of your pottery,” Windhawk replied, casting his son a displeased glance.

“I care nothing for that…pottery can always be replaced. Little Hawk is no more mischievous than you were as a boy, Windhawk,” the doting grandmother said, hugging her grandson to her tightly in her arms.

Joanna gave Windhawk a look of exasperation, and his eyes softened when they rested on her face. Taking her hand, he raised her up to stand beside him and rested his face against hers.

“Do you think our daughter will be such a trial when she grows older?” she asked, pressing her face against Windhawk’s buckskin shirt.

His laughter was soft against her ear. “Let us hope so,” Windhawk replied. “Let us wish that it will be so. I would like to think she will have the same strong spirit as her brother possesses.”

Joanna felt Windhawk touch his mouth against her ear, and tiny shivers ran up and down her spine. Again he laughed softly, knowing how easily he could arouse her.

“I can see that the two of you want to be alone,” Sun Woman said, smiling. Taking her grandson by the hand, she led him outside.

“Now see what you have done, Windhawk,” Joanna scolded, moving away from him. “You have made your mother leave. Can you not control these urges of yours until we are alone?” she said in exasperation.

He lifted her into his arms and gave her a mind-destroying smile. “I am never in control when I am near you, Flaming Hair. For that matter, I have not been in control since the day I first met you.”

Joanna rubbed her cheek against his face. “My dearest, love, I do not think any woman can control the powerful chief of the Blackfoot.”

“You do, Joanna. If you but knew the power you wield over me, it would allow you to take unfair advantage of this great love I feel for you. I would do anything to see you happy, for in your happiness, I find joy.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Who would take advantage of whom?” she asked laughingly.

Windhawk looked deeply into her violet-colored eyes and realized Joanna would never know how she held his very life in her tiny hands. She could only guess at the deep love he had for her. Perhaps it was better that way, he thought. His hands moved across her face to trace the outline of her mouth. When he dipped his dark head to taste her lips, her mouth opened to receive his kiss.

Joanna’s body became soft and yielding in his arms as she became lost in the feelings his kiss evoked. Remembering that Tag and Morning Song were coming for the evening meal, she broke the kiss off and pushed against Windhawk. Looking into his dark eyes, she smiled.

“Have I ever told you that you are the handsomest man I have ever known, my husband?”

His dark eyes flashed to life with a warmth that reached out to Joanna, heating her with its intensity. “If you continue to say things like that to me, you may find yourself on the mat,” he challenged.

Joanna knew from past experience that Windhawk made no idle threat. “Put me down, Windhawk. I must see to the meal. Besides, Sky Dancer needs to be fed, and Tag and Morning Song will be here shortly.”

Windhawk placed her gently to her feet. “I can wait until tonight, Joanna,” he told her with a teasing light in his dark eyes.

She allowed her eyes to travel up the long, lean line of his body to rest on his handsome face. “You eyes are bold my husband—they promise more than your words,” she said, arching a delicate eyebrow.

Windhawk reached out and wound a red-gold curl around his finger, then brought it up to his lips. “I will go and tell
my mother it is safe for her to return,” he said, chuckling to himself.

Joanna watched her husband walk away, loving the way he carried himself so tall and proud. “Stop by Farley’s tipi and tell him he is welcome to come tonight if he wishes,” she called after him.

Joanna went to the cook-fire and turned the deer roast that was cooking there. She smiled to herself, thinking how much Farley loved to be included in the family gatherings. The old trapper, Farley, was especially dear to her. There was a time when Windhawk had allowed him to live in the village only because she wanted Farley to be near her. The old man was now accepted by everyone, and Joanna was glad. She loved that dear old man, and he brightened up her life with his colorful speech and wise sayings.

Tonight Joanna would have those about her whom she loved most in the world, and that made her extremely happy. She hummed softly to herself as she bent over Sky Dancer’s cradle and lifted the baby into her arms. Joanna looked into the blue eyes of the child, thinking her life was perfect. There was nothing more she wanted out of life, except the happiness of those she loved.

It was snowing outside the big lodge where the chief of the Blackfoot and his family resided, but it was warm and cheerful on the inside. The lodge was unlike any other in the village, since Joanna had brought many of the white man’s comforts into it. There were bearskin rugs on the floor, and a brass bed, which was covered with luxurious furs. Brass kettles and pots hung from one of the lodgepoles, and Windhawk’s weapons hung from the others. There was a feeling of warmth and togetherness among the people who sat upon the bearskin rugs after enjoying a good meal.

Tag studied the faces of everyone present. There was Morning Song, his wife, whose face glowed with happiness. With her, he had become a man. She was the only woman he had ever taken to his body, and the only one he had ever wanted.
On their wedding night, their love had been so beautiful and innocent because it had been the first time for them both. Morning Song had been his wife for two years now, and soon she would make him a father.

His eyes then traveled to Sun Woman, his mother-in-law. She was somewhere in her fifties and still a very attractive woman. Her family was her whole life, and she was always doing special little things for those she loved. He remembered the time she had made him a buckskin shirt and trimmed it with dyed porcupine quills. Her joy had been apparent when he had shown his pleasure over the gift. Althought she was forbidden by Blackfoot custom to speak directly to him as her son-in-law, she showed her love for him in the way her eyes would light up when she smiled at him.

His eyes moved to the small bed at the back of the lodge where his nephew, Little Hawk, now slept, then to the cradle where Joanna’s newborn daughter lay. He was delighted with his niece and nephew and looked forward to the time when his own child would be born.

His eyes next went to Windhawk. There wasn’t a man living whom Tag respected and admired as much as the chief of the Blood Blackfoot. Windhawk had been his guide and his teacher ever since he had first come to the Blackfoot village to live. Tag watched as Windhawk’s dark eyes went to his sister, Joanna, and caressed her face. One had but to look at Windhawk to know that he loved her deeply.

Last of all, Tag looked at his sister. Joanna had always been there for him. She had been his strength as a child, and he thought she still might be. He remembered how she had always made him read his books and do his lessons when he was a boy. She had badgered him into learning all he could. She had versed him in the ways of being a gentleman, telling him he would one day return to Philadelphia to claim what, by rights, belonged to him. Joanna had been wrong—he would never return to Phildelphia. His life was here with Morning Song.

He felt Joanna’s eyes on him, and he smiled at her. His
love for Morning Song was deep, but nothing could touch the closeness he felt for his sister. They had been through so many heartaches and trouble together, but they had come through them with very few scars—at least, not the kind of scars that showed.

Joanna could feel Tag’s restlessness. It seemed to grow stronger each day. The thing that she feared most was beginning to happen. He was starting to remember how their Uncle Howard had forced them to flee from their own home, and she knew he had come to resent the past. His old life was beginning to beckon him. She knew he would never leave Morning Song to return to Philadelphia, and he couldn’t take her with him, because she would never be accepted by the white race. This thing would eat at him until he faced it once and for all. Joanna wished he could just put it out of his mind and be content with the way things had worked out, but that would never happen. She feared that before this thing could be brought to a conclusion, she and Morning Song might both lose Tag.

Tag realized by the look that Joanna gave him that she knew about his thoughts and was aware of his restlessness. He had never been able to hide anything from her when he had been a boy, and even though he was now a man, she could still see into his soul.

Standing up, he walked out into the night. Pulling his warm blanket about him, he watched as the snowflakes drifted lazily earthward. He could hear the sound of laughter coming from the other tipis and began to feel lonely. Where did he belong?

Would he ever find peace within himself? he wondered. Would this feeling of unrest ever release him from its grip? It was with him day and night now, and he wanted to rid himself of its dominance.