Savage Spring (4 page)

As evening fell, the campfires burned brightly, and the death chants could be heard echoing across the valley.

The scaffold had been built and Morning Song’s body had been placed upon it so that the people of the Blackfoot village could gather around to mourn the death of their beloved princess. The mourners showed their sorrow openly, for Morning Song’s passing had left a deep void in many hearts. The sounds of grief could be heard all throughout the dismal day and on into the dark night.

Joanna sat beside her brother, holding his hand, and calling on all her strength to get through this horrible nightmare. She couldn’t believe that sweet, gentle Morning Song was dead and that Tag had been gravely wounded. Tag hadn’t regained consciousness since Windhawk had brought him home, so no one knew what had happened. All Windhawk could tell her was that two white men were responsible for the tragedy.

The bullet had been removed from Tag’s chest, and Joanna had cleansed the wound. Now there was nothing to do but wait and pray that he would recover.

A small cry came from the cradle where Joanna had placed Tag and Morning Song’s baby. Standing up, she walked over to the baby and lifted it into her arms. Tears fell on the child’s
face as Joanna hugged the tiny body to her. So much had happened, and the child had all but been forgotten. Joanna didn’t even know if the baby was a boy or a girl. Laying the child down, she dressed it in clean, warm clothing and discovered that Tag was the father of a daughter.

Brokenhearted sobs wracked Joanna’s body as she unfastened her doeskin dress and began to feed the baby. The child nursed hungrily, and Joanna’s heart went out to her poor motherless niece.

“Do not fret, little one,” she said, touching the soft, downy black hair on the baby’s head. “I will love you as your mother would have. You will be as my own daughter.”

Joanna hadn’t heard Windhawk enter, and when he knelt down beside her she saw the tears in his dark eyes. Reaching out to him, she brushed a tear away from his cheek.

“Oh, my dearest love,” she cried, “my heart is breaking for you.”

Windhawk leaned his face against hers. “Help me get through this, Joanna. Give me the strength I need.” It was a plea from the heart, and fresh tears washed down her face.

“We will help each other, my husband. You will be strong because you have to. I will be strong because Tag and this child need me.”

Windhawk looked for the first time at the baby. He had just assumed since Joanna was nursing the child that it was his own daughter. When he looked into Joanna’s eyes, she could see the pain written there.

“Is the child well?”

“Yes, Morning Song’s daughter will thrive and grow. She will not know one day of unhappiness if I can help it. She will be as my own daughter.”

Windhawk was moved by her words, and he looked upward, feeling his grief like a knife in his heart. “How is your brother?”

“He has not regained consciousness.”

Windhawk stood up. “I fear for my mother’s sanity. Her grief is such that she is not thinking clearly. I fear what she might
do. I have tried to talk to her but, she will not listen.” Joanna could read the helpless expression on Windhawk’s face.

“I will go to her. You stay with Tag,” Joanna said, standing up and wrapping the baby warmly in a blanket.

Windhawk watched her leave the lodge with the baby, wondering how he would have stood the pain had it not been for Joanna. She was the one from whom he drew his strength. Everyone thought he was the strong one, but Windhawk knew that in many cases it was Joanna he relied on for strength.

The inside of Sun Woman’s tipi was in shadow, with only the cook-fire to give off light. Joanna saw her mother-in-law lying on her mat, surrounded by her friends. Joanna’s heart went out to her as she watched her rock back and forth, chanting the death cry with tears streaming down her face.

“Please leave now—I will take care of my mother,” Joanna told the other women. She watched as they filed out one by one, and when the last one had departed, she laid the child down and dropped on her knees beside Windhawk’s mother, pulling her into her arms.

“I remember a time when you once helped me, my mother. You held me in your arms and allowed me to cry out my unhappiness. I will now do the same for you.”

Sun Woman’s body was trembling, and Joanna tightened her arms about her. “Cry, my mother. Cry for the life that was ended too soon. Cry because we will miss Morning Song’s laughter. Get all the sadness out of your heart so you can then remember only the joy that she brought into your life.”

“Joanna, Joanna, I cannot go on living without her. I have lived too long when I begin outliving my children. Allow me to die!”

“You must not talk like that! Morning Song would not want you to die. Do you not know that if you die you will take some of Morning Song with you? As long as you live, a part of her will live also.”

“I will not live! The pain is too great! I will take this knife and plunge it into my heart!” Sun Woman cried, picking up a weapon that lay beside her on the buffalo robe.

Joanna grabbed Sun Woman’s arm to keep her from hurting herself. She knew that Windhawk’s mother was acting irrationally, and Joanna would have to do something quickly or her mother-in-law might well do something harmful to herself. Applying pressure to Sun Woman’s arm, she forced her to drop the knife. The older woman collapsed in a heap, crying hysterically.

Joanna picked up the baby and knelt down beside Sun Woman once more.

“There is someone here who will need your love and strength, my mother. Would not Morning Song want you to love and care for her daughter? Will she not find a sweeter rest knowing that the woman who loved and raised her will help do the same for her own daughter?”

Sun Woman’s head snapped up. “What daughter? What are you saying to me?”

Joanna realized that in her grief over Morning Song’s death and her worry over Tag she hadn’t told Sun Woman about the baby. “Did you not know that Morning Song had her baby this morning?”

Joanna pulled back the blanket and showed the infant to Sun Woman. “Look, she has Morning Song’s hair. It is as black as the midnight sky. Hold her, my mother. Give
her
the love that you once gave to her mother!”

Sun Woman’s hand trembled as she touched the baby’s soft cheek. Joanna watched as she dried her eyes, and then she handed the baby to her. At first, Sun Woman looked like she might cry again, and then slowly her eyes seemed to brighten.

“I still have a part of Morning Song to love.” Her eyes met Joanna’s. “You have brought me comfort as no other could have, my daughter. I will live for this child! I will tell her of the goodness of her mother, and she will grow to be just like her.”

Joanna stood up and nodded. “Keep the child with you
until she is hungry, then bring her to me so I may feed her. I have more then enough milk for both babies. You and I will both love this child, my mother…as…we both loved Morning Song.”

Joanna walked outside knowing Sun Woman would be all right. Her vision became blurred with tears, and her heart was breaking as she stumbled back to her own lodge so she could be with Tag in case he regained consciousness.

Tag awoke feeling a cool hand on his forehead. Everything seemed fuzzy, and he blinked his eyes trying to clear them. There was a tremendous pain in his chest, which seemed to pin him down. He tried to remember where he was and what had happened to him.

“Don’t move, Tag, you have been hurt. Lie still.”

He heard Joanna’s voice and wondered what she was talking about—he didn’t remember being…! “Morning Song!” he cried out in agony. “They killed Morning Song!”

“Hush, Tag,” Joanna soothed. “Try to go back to sleep—I will sit beside you.”

“NO!” he cried, trying to sit up.

Strong hands pushed him back down, and he heard Windhawk’s voice. “Drink this,” Windhawk told him, raising a cup to his lips. Tag took a sip of the bitter liquid and turned his face away. “Drink all of it, Tag—it will help you sleep,” Windhawk urged.

Tag obeyed immediately, wanting to lose himself in sleep. He didn’t want to remember that Morning Song was dead. He couldn’t bear to think about how she had died in his arms. The foul-tasting liquid soon worked its magic, and Tag felt himself drifting off. In his mind he could hear Morning Song’s voice telling him to go back to Philadelphia. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to stay here with her. But he couldn’t stay with her…she was dead!

“Morning Song,” he groaned. He felt a comforting hand clasp his and knew that Joanna was nearby sharing his pain and loss.

For the next few days, Tag slipped in and out of consciousness. Joanna knew Tag didn’t want to wake up to face the sad reality of Morning Song’s death. Her heart was breaking for him, but there was nothing she could do outside tending his wounds and trying to make him as comfortable as possible. She knew the real test would come as he grew stronger. Then, only time would be the great healer.

With Morning Song’s daughter to care for, Sun Woman was better able to accept the tragedy of her daughter’s death. Windhawk never again allowed his grief to show. Only Joanna knew about the sleepless nights and his troubled dreams. She realized with a heavy heart that it would be a very long time before this family would recover from losing Morning Song.

It was a week after the tragedy that Joanna felt she had to get away. She had tried to hold her grief inside so she could appear strong for others, but now she wanted time to be alone.

Sun Woman was watching the children, thus giving Joanna the time she needed to find her solitude.

She mounted her horse and rode across the river and into the woods. She allowed her mount to wander at will, paying little heed to where he was going. Finally she halted her horse and dismounted.

It had snowed earlier, but now the clouds had moved away, leaving a bright sunshiny day. Joanna took this time to reflect on all the little things that Morning Song had done to brighten up her life. Leaning her head against a tree trunk, she allowed the tears she had been holding back to flow. After her tears dried, she just walked about drinking in the stillness that surrounded her. Sitting down on a fallen log, she propped her back against a tree trunk and closed her eyes.

“You all right, Joanna?” Farley, the old trapper, asked.

Opening her eyes, she smiled at him, knowing he had followed her in case she should run into any danger. “I’m going to be all right now, Farley.”

He sat down beside her and fixed her with a concerned gaze. “Ifen you want me to go back to the village, I will. Do you want to be alone?”

“No, my dear friend, stay with me for a while.”

“I looked in on the boy; his wound ain’t bad.”

“Tag isn’t a boy any longer, Farley. He is a man now, with a man’s responsibilities.”

“I reckon he’ll always be a boy to me.”

“I wish there was something we could do to help him get through this.”

“There ain’t, though. He’ll deal with it in his own way. I have watched him growing up, and I’m right proud of him. Nobody’s gonna knock that boy ’round without him doing some knocking back.”

“I suppose,” Joanna said absent-mindedly. Already she was thinking about the ones who were dependent on her back at the village. The babies would soon need feeding, and she wanted to be near Tag when he awoke.

When she stood up, Farley followed her to her horse. Then the two of them rode silently back to the village.

That evening, Tag awoke long enough for Joanna to spoon some soft porridge down him. Then he drifted off to sleep once more.

When the children had been tucked into bed, Joanna lay down beside Windhawk. He drew her into his strong arms, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

“Joanna, it is a strange thing, but I have found that in a time of great trouble, you can always discover what a person is really made of. These last few days I have observed you taking care of everyone, lending your strength to those who needed it. I have seen you so tired and drained you could hardly stand, and yet not once did you complain. I am proud to be your husband. It is time for you to rest and allow me to shoulder some of the burden. Lean on me now, Joanna.”

Joanna felt his lips on her forehead, and she allowed herself to relax. Yes, she would lean on Windhawk. From him
she always found the courage to go on. He was the strongest, gentlest man she had ever known.

“Sleep, my love. I will hold you all night,” he whispered in her ear.

Joanna closed her eyes, knowing that tonight she would sleep without any nightmares to disturb her peace of mind.

As time passed, Windhawk knew Joanna had fallen asleep. When his infant daughter cried to be fed, he got up and placed her at Joanna’s breast. Later, he performed the same deed for Tag’s daughter, and Joanna didn’t stir either time.

The next morning Windhawk took Little Hawk to Farley and the two babies to his mother so Joanna could sleep. He knew she was utterly exhausted, and that if she didn’t get some rest she would become ill.

It was late afternoon when Joanna finally awoke. Windhawk had stayed beside her all night and all day. Now he came to her and handed her a dish of food. No words passed between them. There had never been a need for talk between the two of them. What they had to say to one another could be expressed with a smile or a gentle touch.

That evening Windhawk helped Joanna feed the children and put them to bed. He then sat beside her as she spoon-fed Tag some broth.

After everyone had been cared for, he lifted Joanna into his arms and carried her to bed. She curled up next to him, feeling his love reach out to her.

“Have I told you I think you are wonderful, my husband?” she asked softly.

“You have mentioned it once or twice,” he replied, resting his face against her red-gold hair.

“Not many men, white or Indian, would have been as considerate as you are, Windhawk.”

“It is easy to be kind to someone like you, Joanna. You are always so busy doing things for others, you do not often realize when you are tired yourself.”

“Hold me, Windhawk,” she said, needing his warmth.

“Every day of our life, my love,” he whispered.