Song Of The Warrior (30 page)

Oh, what was she going to do? “I-I didn't think it was the time, what with all the other things we had to worry about.”

He swung her up in his arms and kissed her nose. “Wait until I tell Raven he's going to be an uncle.”

“Oh, but . . .” She paused as he carried her to set her by their campfire. How could she tell him?
Should
she tell him?

“But what?” He was staring at her now, his face puzzled. “You surprise me, Willow, you don't seem pleased.”

Of course he thought it was his, even though he hadn't touched her since this whole journey had begun. Her mind raced, wondering what was the right thing to do now that she had made such a mess of everything? “Bear . . .”

He was waiting, his rugged face puzzled.

Willow took a deep breath, looking around. It was almost dark and their campsite was isolated. Now she saw Raven coming from the horse herd.

“Hey, you two, were there any fish in that river?”

Bear grinned at his brother. “We've got exciting news,” he said, “something that makes this whole tragedy worthwhile.”

“What?” Raven looked from one to the other.

She didn't look at either of them for a moment. “I-I'm expecting a baby.”

“Does that foretell good luck?” Bear said to his brother. “A little warrior.”

She looked up then. In the firelight, she stared into Raven's eyes. His face had gone pale and guilt mixed with happiness in his dark eyes. He had to begin twice to speak. “That-that is good news, Brother.”

“What is wrong with you two?” Bear asked, staring from one to the other.

Willow looked up at him, licked her lips, trying to think of something to say. She couldn't bring herself to lie to him but she loved him too much to hurt him.

A shadow crossed Bear's features in the firelight. He frowned as if he didn't like the thought that had just entered his mind, then shook his head as if to deny it. “No,” he said, “no, tell me that couldn't be.”

A long, loud silence. It was so still, the noise of a stick toppling in the campfire, sending a shower of sparks into the darkness seemed loud indeed.

“Bear,” Raven began, “it wasn't her fault. No one expected to live through the night.”

She saw the look in Bear's eyes; first horrified realization, then hurt, then a fury more terrible than she had ever seen.

“We-we thought you were dead,” she began.

Bear screamed in a way she had never heard; a cross between pain and fury. Then he grabbed Raven by the throat, picking him up, shaking him. “My beloved brother!” he snarled. “My trusted woman!”

“Oh, Bear, please!” She was trying to drag him away from Raven, who didn't even attempt to defend himself. “Don't kill him; listen to me, please listen!”

A crowd was gathering, drawn by the noise as the two men fought.

Bear shook Willow off, his great strength slamming his brother against the ground. “For this, you coward, I save your life! So you could dishonor yourself and my woman!”

He was going to kill Raven, she was certain of it, and after his anger cooled, he would hate himself forever. She didn't even care if he turned his anger and his hurt on her, but she must not let him murder his brother. She turned and appealed to Looking Glass who had run up. “Please!”

“Enough!” the chief thundered. “Enough of this!”

Bear seemed to come to his senses, turned loose of his brother's throat, stepped backward, breathing heavy.

Raven got to his feet, rubbing his neck, choking and coughing.

Looking Glass's face turned dark with anger. “We do not have enough trouble without brothers attempting to kill each other? Shame! Shame for putting your own passions ahead of the needs of your desperate people!”

The two men hung their heads and did not look at anyone. Looking Glass's words echoed loud in the silence as others gathered to watch and listen. Willow felt her face burn at the brothers' humiliation. Neither of them said anything in their own defense.

“If you are both still alive when we complete this journey,” Looking Glass said, “then you can fuss over the ownership of this white woman.”

“I am not white!” Willow said without thinking. “I am one of the people.”

“Are you now?” the fierce chief's eyes burned into her like dark fires. “We will see finally if you earn that right to be of the heart's own blood. Enough!” He made a gesture of dismissal, turned and strode away.

Willow couldn't look at either of the two brothers. The crowd began to disperse. Without another word, Bear turned and walked away.

Raven still rubbed his neck. “Oh, Willow, are you all right?”

She began to cry. “We've hurt him; and we never meant to!”

Raven sighed and shook his head. “I take full responsibility, as a warrior, I shouldn't have let it happen. I am sorry I brought all this trouble to you, Willow. I would have been honorable, told him when he first came back what had happened, but I wanted to protect you.”

She turned and looked after Bear who had disappeared over a rise. “I thought to keep him from ever knowing; not wanting to bring trouble between two brothers, but then . . .” She stared down at her body.

Raven asked. “Is it—is it true?”

She only nodded, not looking at him. “That one time.”

Raven stood up, squared his shoulders. “What I have done is dishonorable and I don't ever expect my brother to forgive me; but he loves you more than anything, Willow, I think he will forgive you someday.”

She had cried herself out. Like the people, her sorrow was too deep for tears. “I have no idea what will happen now, Raven.”

“Looking Glass is right; the tribe needs every warrior it has for the next several weeks,” Raven said and he sounded resigned to his tragedy. “Once we make it to Canada, I will go away. Perhaps then he will forgive and forget.” He started to walk away, paused, then looked down at her. “One thing I have to know, Willow.”

“Yes?” She looked up at him, so tall and handsome; so much like his brother.

“Did you—could you have ever cared for me, even a little?”

He loved her perhaps as much as Bear did, she thought, but she could never love another man as she loved Bear. “If Bear hadn't returned, maybe we could have made a future together.”

“Thank you for that. The rest of this journey, I'll try to stay out of his way; he realizes that our problems are not as important as the tribe's and a great warrior always puts everyone else's welfare ahead of his own.”

“Oh, Raven, what will you do?”

He didn't answer, his dark eyes tragic and soft. He had loved her more than life itself and it hadn't been enough; her heart belonged to only one man and always would, whether Bear loved her or not.

Willow wondered how this all could have occurred just when it looked like she and Bear might finally find happiness together. If only she were expecting her beloved's child instead of his brother's. She didn't know what would happen tomorrow; she wasn't even sure she cared anymore except that she knew her people were all important, she must help them in every way she could to reach Canada.

She looked into Raven's eyes and knew that when the tribe reached safety, Raven would go away forever; it was the only thing he could do. Willow was also certain that Bear would never want to see her again. She had betrayed his love, although she hadn't meant to. She was going to lose them both; well, perhaps it was only a just punishment. What would happen next week or next month, she couldn't be sure. Death and destruction were haunting the Nez Perce as they moved. None of them might live long enough to reach Canada!

Willow did not sleep that night. Once she walked out on the prairie and saw Bear sitting alone, staring off into the distance, but she dare not approach him. Toward dawn, he returned to camp, began to pack their things. She felt too sad to even care if he took his revenge against her; she had hurt him badly with her betrayal and she knew it. When she came over to him, he turned his cold, remote face away from her.

“Bear, give me a chance to explain.”

“There is nothing to say,” he answered coldly, “your swollen belly says it all.”

She began to cry softly and it tore at his heart, but he hardened himself to keep from taking her in his arms and holding her close to comfort her. She had let his brother make love to her. And Raven; what kind of bad luck had he brought down by breaking this ancient warriors' taboo?

“Please, Bear, hear me—”

“You have nothing to say that I want to hear.” He snapped. “Our family is disgraced by this brawl and disagreement before the whole camp.

“Don't hurt Raven,” she begged, “I want to explain—”

“I wouldn't dirty my hands on him,” Bear snapped. “He is without honor, a thief stealing from another warrior who is off fighting to protect the tribe.” He walked away then, closing his ears and heart to the woman he loved. He had to walk away to keep from hearing her sobs, to stop himself from returning to take her in his arms. He must be a fool because he still loved her so. His hurt was far deeper than his anger now, but he had made his decision. It was all important that the people get to Canada, and Bear would sacrifice his life if need be to see that they made it. For the next few days, Bear would concentrate only on that and try not to imagine his woman in the arms of his traitorous brother.

Yet in spite of everything, Bear still loved them both. No, he thought bitterly, he would not stand in their way. Bear's return had created problems for a couple who had already made plans that didn't include him. Once they reached safety, Bear intended to go away. He didn't know or care where, as long as he didn't have to see Willow everyday and watch his brother smile with pride as her belly swelled with Raven's son.

Bear didn't tell Raven all this, he only told him coldly that they had nothing more to say to each other; that they would straighten it out once they crossed the border.

“Bear, it wasn't her fault,” Raven argued, “we were both grief-stricken, we thought you were dead.”

“You acted without honor,” Bear snapped, “and to think I had faith in you; that someday you would make me proud. I wish now I had let that grizzly tear you to pieces!”

Raven started as if Bear had hit him hard across the face. “I've spent my life trying to live up to you,” Raven acknowledged in a shamed whisper. “Yes, in a moment of weakness, I took what wasn't mine. If you can't forgive me, brother, at least forgive her; she loves you so.”

“So she shows it by spreading her thighs for my handsome brother.” He had not known anything could hurt as he was hurting now, not even when the grizzly had torn his flesh or the many times he had been wounded in battle. “We have nothing to say to each other,” Bear said coldly. “It is going to be all we can do to get the people to Canada, after that, we will be finished forever.”

He turned and strode away, his insides hurting as if he'd had a burning stick rammed into his chest where his heart used to beat. Bear could only be thankful that there were so many challenges and problems ahead in the next few weeks. He knew he would not have time to even think about what had happened. He did not want to imagine Willow in his brother's arms; Raven kissing her while his hands caressed her breasts and he lay on her soft belly, putting his son in her. No doubt at the very moment his brother did that, Bear was in a stockade cell, being tortured to protect the secrets of the tribal gold.

He helped get the tribe on the move early that morning, ignoring both Raven and Willow as much as possible, speaking to them only when he had to.

They passed through the Judith Basin and, on September 23, reached the Missouri River opposite a steamboat freight depot at Cow Island. By now, the Nez Perce were desperate enough to attack the depot, fighting the few soldiers and freighters there to get food, blankets, and ammunition. Thus resupplied and their failing hope rekindled, they turned again toward the north. Only another hundred miles or so, they told one another as more old ones and children died. Again, they fought off freighters to steal a few wagon loads of goods and drove off a small unit of soldiers who had crossed their trail from Fort Benton. Nothing mattered anymore but crossing into Canada, saving the few hundred people; all that was left of the more than seven hundred who had begun this march more than a thousand miles ago. They had paid dearly, leaving a trail of dead and blood-soaked ground as they fought their way against impossible odds.

Willow no longer thought about anything except getting to safe refuge. What would happen once they got there, she had no way of knowing. She talked to neither man, only hoping that once they reached safety, there might be some way to work this out. She wondered if any of them would ever be happy again. The old grandmother and the two children struggled valiantly on, although there were days Willow wasn't sure they could make it. Often, she gave them her horse and walked beside it.

Raven seemed to hesitate to come close to her, and she knew he feared making a bad situation worse. She had stopped trying to appeal to Bear, knowing he might never recover from her betrayal.

Bear watched her from a distance, loving her as he would never love another woman. But because he was a proud man and since she was carrying Raven's child, it was only just that those two end up together. Yet, one day as he watched her walk beside the horse, her belly swollen and her moccasins worn, he could not stand to watch her suffer. He rode up next to her. “Take my horse, I will walk awhile.”

She looked up at him, so vulnerable and appealing, hesitated, shook her head slowly. “I do not need your pity.”

“It shames me to see you walk while I ride.”

“I shame you,” she answered softly and kept walking.

“Willow . . .” He didn't know what to say. He steeled himself, remembering that when they reached their goal, he intended to ride away and hope Raven and Willow could make a life for themselves and their child.

Willow stumbled and fell. Before he thought, he was off his horse, sweeping her up in his arms. For a long moment, he held her close, remembering the feel of her small body curled close to his in the night and almost weeping for what had been before and would never be again. “Are you—are you hurt?”

“No.” She struggled to get out of his grasp and he sighed and let her stand.

Raven rode up just then. “What happened?”

How could he hate Raven for loving her when she was the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world? “She fell; I was trying to help her.”

“I'm all right,” Willow said and her tone was soft and gentle as he remembered from all those months ago.

Gruffly, Bear said, “Here, take my horse; I need to stretch my legs.” It wasn't fitting that a warrior give up his horse for a woman, but he was past caring. She didn't fight him as he put his hands on her waist. For a split second, he stared down into those eyes as green as forest pools and fought an urge to hold her close and kiss those soft lips. Very slowly, he lifted her to War Paint's back, then looked toward Raven. His brother looked as miserable as Bear felt. They still had perhaps a hundred miles to go by white man's measurements and they might not make it. If they didn't, none of this would matter.

Willow nodded her thanks and looked at him almost shyly. “We could both ride.”

He shook his head, turned and began to walk. “No, it will stress the stallion.” He dare not tell her what he really thought. Once a long time ago, he had carried her on his horse before him and he remembered now how she had felt then, warm and soft in his arms, her hair smelling of sun and wind. The nape of her neck had been so appealing that he had wanted to kiss it. No, he dare not ride behind her; he might lose his resolve and hold her close, wanting nothing more than to share her life, no matter whose child she carried.

Behind him, Raven said, “Bear, take my horse for a while.”

He still could not accept this overture of friendship from his brother; he had been too wounded by him. “No,” he said and kept walking.

Willow watched them both, not sure what she could do to solve this horrible rift between the brothers. Maybe time would heal the wounds, she thought. It was something to hope for. Time; it was running out; the weather turning cooler as September advanced and the tribe moved stubbornly north. Even the exhausted and the dying smiled with a little hope now. It was just possible that they might overcome the odds and make it.

 

 

On September 29, after passing the main range of the Bear Paw Mountains, the exhausted, worn-out refugees finally reached Snake Creek and paused at midafternoon.

The wind was picking up as Joseph called a council of the men under a bluff, out of the wind so they could hear the talk. Someone lit a small fire and took out the ceremonial pipe. Behind them, the rest of the people sank down on the ground, thankful for the brief rest.

Looking Glass looked around the circle of respected warriors and smiled. “We are less than forty miles as the white man calls it from Canada and safety. As cold and hungry as the people are, we should stop a few days and rest.”

Ollokot frowned. “That seems unwise. I feel we should keep moving. In one day or at the most, two, we will be across the border.”

“But our scouts are watching One-Arm's pony soldiers,” another argued. “We will be warned if they move close enough to catch us.”

Murmurs, in agreement and disagreement among the warriors.

Joseph seemed to be giving all the opinions serious thought as he smoked the pipe and passed it to Bear. “Hohots, you are a wise warrior, what do you think?”

Bear considered as he accepted the pipe. The tobacco smoke drifted as he took a puff. “There is much to think about. The wind smells of snow and if it comes, it will slow our march.”

Joseph nodded and looked toward Raven. “What think you, Raven?”

Bear watched his brother. Only a few weeks ago, he would have been so proud that Raven had finally come into his own as a warrior; now all he could think of was the image of Willow in his brother's arms.

Raven said, “If the weather slows us, it will also slow the soldiers. Our ponies are bone thin and need time to graze or some of them won't make it across the border.”

So the discussion went, each respected warrior offering an opinion. Bear looked at Joseph. The ordeal had taken a terrible toll on the leader. His face looked drawn and weathered and there was gray in his black hair that Bear hadn't remembered before. The weight of responsibility hung heavy on Joseph's shoulders, Bear knew.

Ollokot said, “I think we should press on. We can rest when we are safely in Sitting Bull's camp.”

Another shook his head. “Listen to that wind! It cuts like a knife and the temperature is dropping. Our scouts are watching the Cavalry Pony Soldier and he is many miles to the south. We have plenty of time tomorrow to pack and move north at our leisure.”

Bear had been a warrior too long to take such a chance, yet he had seen Willow's thin and exhausted face as she slid from her weary horse a few minutes ago. The old grandmother looked even worse and might not survive a bitter cold night on the trail.

Joseph looked at him. “Bear, I respect your opinion as I do Looking Glass and my brother. Having heard all this, what think you?”

In his heart, Bear was certain they should keep moving, but now he thought only of Willow and how ill she looked. Food and a warm lodge was what she needed now. “Perhaps those who want to camp for the night are right; we know where Sturgis's pony soldiers are, so we have plenty of time tomorrow to resume our march.”

Joseph nodded. “I agree. It is so decided then. Get plenty of rest and hot food tonight. Tomorrow, when the weather clears, we will take to the trail again. Two suns from now, we should be sitting around Lakota fires, eating fat haunches of buffalo!”

The warriors smiled at one another for the first time in weeks, their dark eyes bright with hope. After leaving so many dead on this long trek, they were going to win this bitter struggle after all.

The meeting broke up and Bear and Raven walked out into the cold wind. The pale gray sky was spitting snow and somewhere a solitary wolf howled.

Willow came from behind a straggly line of brush that broke the wind. “Do we go or stay?”

Bear hesitated, awkward with her now. “We stay.” The relief on her face rewarded him and made him forget his uneasiness with Joseph's decision.

“Good!” She sighed. “If you two will put up my shelter so I can get the old woman in out of the cold and maybe hunt some rabbits, I'll cook food for all.”

Willow watched them both as they nodded. Tomorrow, she thought, or maybe the next day, we will be safe in Canada and this whole thing will end somehow. She wasn't certain what would happen after that, but she was almost too weary and weak to care.

Later, as they all sat around the small fire in her lodge, the two children huddled close to her, the old grandmother asleep and snoring. Willow held her book and looked from one brother to the other. “I haven't been able to teach the children for several weeks.”

She wished she knew what Bear was thinking; he looked so sad.

Raven stared at the book in her lap. “It seems like a thousand suns ago,” he whispered, “that you were teaching me to write my name and reading aloud from that.”

Two men in love with the same woman, she remembered the novel. How ironic that she was caught in the same situation.

Sleepy Atsi yawned. “Will you teach us again when we reach Sitting Bull's camp?”