White Owl (14 page)

“Hello, Wild Rose,” he said in English that was almost as perfect as his son’s.

Rose cast him a weak smile and held out her trembling hand.

“I am Strong Elk, father of White Owl,” he said as he gave her hand one firm shake. He turned to the group that had gathered behind him and added, “This is my youngest son, Two Feathers.” He motioned to the younger man who stepped up beside him. He did not offer his hand to Rose. She nodded her head toward him, but did not receive any acknowledgment. His dark stare did not look friendly, but she did not have time to contemplate his attitude.

A beautiful woman wearing a colorful full skirt and a loose-fitting white blouse stepped forward and smiled shyly. White Owl reached out and took the woman’s hand. “Wild Rose, this is my mother, Sage.”

Rose smiled back. She felt no animosity from
this woman, but she could tell by the way the woman was peering directly into her eyes that she was trying to determine if she was good enough for her son. “It is very nice to meet you,” Rose said, hoping her voice conveyed sincerity.

The older woman nodded and backed away without speaking, but the expression on her lovely face seemed to be less critical.

Another younger woman stood beside White Owl’s father. She did not smile or nod when White Owl introduced her. “That is Cloud Woman, my father’s second wife.”

Rose forced a smile, “Nice to meet you, too.” She glanced at White Owl. A smirk curled one side of his mouth. He was obviously remembering her attitude about the Ute custom of having more than one wife. She raised one eyebrow in warning as their gazes met for an instant.

His taunting grin did not fade, but he looked away from her as he pointed to a young girl of possibly eleven or twelve. “That is Shy Girl,” he said. “She is the daughter of my father and Cloud Woman.”

“
Maiku
,” the girl said quietly. “I mean, hello,” she added in English. She glanced down at the ground, but a smile softly curved her full lips.

“Hello, Shy Girl,” Rose said. The girl was thin and delicate, and obviously came by her name naturally. She was lovely, and Rose could see the family resemblance between her and White Owl.

A silence fell over the group after the last of the
introductions, until White Owl finally spoke up again. “Rose will be staying here with me. I have made her my woman.”

His entire family stared at him. Rose was grateful that no one was looking at her because she knew her face had to be flaming red. He could have been more tactful, but no, he had just blurted it out, and now there was no telling how they would take her arrival.

The strained quiet did not last long—thanks to Strong Elk. “Rose, you sit here by me,” he said as he motioned to a spot by the campfire. “I must learn more about the woman who has stolen my son’s heart.”

Rose was too stunned to move. If this had been her family, her father would probably have shot White Owl just for talking to her. But White Owl’s father wanted her to sit beside him and chat as if they were old friends. Her head was spinning and she could not make her feet move.

“Rose?” White Owl said as he prodded her forward.

She thought the smirk appeared for an instant on his lips again, but if it did, it was gone immediately.

“You can tell my father how we met,” he chided as he led her to the spot that Strong Elk had just motioned to.

She sank down on the hard ground. She was wearing a blue checked dress with a full skirt, so she crossed her legs like the rest of the group was doing and carefully tucked the material of the
skirt around her legs. Nervously, she reached up to her neck and rubbed at the bare spot where her heart necklace should have been. She placed her hands back in her lap and clenched them tightly in an attempt to hide her uneasiness. As White Owl sat down next to her, she avoided looking at him. If he still wore that taunting grin, she would not be coherent enough to carry on a conversation with his father.

Strong Elk was staring at her when she glanced at him. She smiled timidly.

“Your dress is the same color as your eyes,” he commented.

He stared directly into her eyes in a bold manner. Rose blinked several times and then lowered her gaze. She still avoided looking at White Owl, especially since she had heard him grunt when his father had made that comment.

“Rose could not keep those blue eyes off me when she first saw me,” White Owl teased. “She rode many miles to watch me race my pony every day.”

Rose turned to glare at him. “You’ve been doing quite a bit of riding lately to see me, too,” she reminded him. She cast him a warning glance for an instant before she looked away from him again and directed her attention back to his father.

“I would like to thank you for making me feel so welcome,” she said to Strong Elk. His smile was so similar to his oldest son’s that Rose felt a tender tug at her heartstrings.

“You belong to my son, so now you belong to
my family.” He held out a tin cup, and when she hesitated to take it, he said, “It is coffee from the agency.”

“Thank you,” she said sheepishly as she took the cup. It smelled strong, and the cup was almost so hot that she could not hold on to it. Although she put the cup up to her lips, she did not drink for fear of burning her tongue.

“How long will you stay?” the beautiful young girl named Shy Girl asked quietly.

Rose was surprised to hear the girl speak; she seemed so self-conscious. “I’m not sure,” she answered. She glanced at White Owl out of the side of her eye.

“Forever, I hope,” he replied.

His unexpected announcement caused an instant smile to light up Rose’s face. She turned to look at him, and for a moment their gazes held, in spite of the curious crowd that watched them. By now a group of other villagers had begun to gather around them, obviously intrigued by Rose’s presence. She ignored them as his sentiments echoed her internal dream . . . forever and ever.

White Owl smiled slightly, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Then he glanced back over his shoulder at the uninvited observers. He spoke in his Ute language. His tone sounded annoyed, and the group began to disperse immediately without making any comments.

Rose hoped his attitude would not make them angry with her. With a nervous glance back at his family, she noticed that none of them seemed to
be overly worried about his words. Her eyes locked briefly with Two Feathers, however, and an ominous feeling gripped at her chest. His cold, penetrating stare seemed so filled with anger, or even hatred. Rose wrapped her arms around her body and quickly looked away.

The rest of the morning meal was uneventful. Rose nibbled at the flat bread Shy Girl had given to her and sipped the rest of the coffee once it was cool enough to drink. She did not look at Two Feathers again, but she liked Sage and Shy Girl more and more as the time wore on. They had both taken seats to her left so that they could visit with her, although the conversation did not involve anything more serious than the drought and the morning meal. Rose was amazed that everyone she had met so far spoke exceptionally good English. By the time they began to move away from the fire pit, her apprehension had faded . . . until she chanced another look at Two Feathers. He returned her glance with a cold smile, and his raven eyes still looked furious.

She leaned closer to White Owl. He immediately put his arm around her shoulders, oblivious to her fear. “They like you,” he said as he smiled down at her. “Chief Jack will like you, too.”

“Chief Jack?” She would ask White Owl about Two Feathers’ strange behavior later.

“He is the leader of the younger Utes—the ones who are not going to let the whites take away our ponies or turn us into farmers.” A mask of determination covered his face, but he quickly lost the
serious attitude. “After we meet Chief Jack and explain why you are here, I will let my mother start teaching you the ways of Ute women.”

“Oh,” Rose answered in a timid tone. She glanced around at the women she could see and noticed that they were either clearing away the morning meal, tanning hides or chasing after small children. It did not appear that their daily routines were all that different than the way Rose and her mother spent their days. The men, on the other hand, were lying around doing nothing except visiting with one another and sipping their strong coffee. Several were curled up on the ground apparently sleeping again. Rose wondered if this was their usual morning routine. She knew that by midday the younger men would all be enjoying their favorite sport . . . horse racing in Powell Park.

Chief Jack, or Captain Jack, as he was sometimes called, was considered to be the last traditional chief of the Ute Indians, and the younger men of the tribe looked up to him as their leader because he refused to give in to the demands of the whites. Of course, Rose had no idea of this when she met him. He was almost as tall as White Owl and quite handsome. But still, not nearly as handsome as her warrior.

The chief greeted them with a raised hand as they approached his tepee. He was lounging on the ground against a pile of furs and motioned for them to join him. As Rose sat next to White Owl on the ground, she looked up and met the gaze of a
young woman who sat close by working on a delicately beaded buckskin dress. Rose smiled, and to her relief, the other girl returned her friendly gesture. She appeared to be close to Rose’s age, but whether she was Jack’s wife was not clear.

Rose’s attention was diverted when White Owl’s warm hand surrounded her own hand. His smile was tender when she looked over at him and calmly announced, “Jack, meet my wife, Wild Rose.”

His face blurred before her eyes as his words spun through her mind over and over again—“my wife.” Was it true? Were they considered married in the laws of his tribe? Was she truly the wife of this powerful Ute warrior? It was not until she realized that Jack was congratulating them that she knew it was true.

“Thank you for your kind words,” White Owl said as he squeezed Rose’s hand and snapped her out of her shocked trance.

“Y-yes, thank you,” Rose stammered. She had no idea what he had said to them. But White Owl was smiling widely, so she assumed that Chief Jack approved.

If only her own family could receive the news so joyfully. A sharp pain ripped through her breast. How could she ever tell her father face-to-face that she was now the wife of a Ute warrior? She gulped down the bitter taste in her mouth when she thought about what must have occurred at her parents’ home this morning when they had found her note. But she refused to think about it now, because
she did not want White Owl or Chief Jack to see her fall apart. She forced herself to concentrate on the present conversation.

White Owl’s next statement sent Rose’s senses into a tailspin. “We will be leaving soon for our wedding trip,” White Owl said, then added something else in Ute.

Rose fought to control her emotions. She glanced back and forth between the chief and White Owl, but neither of them looked in her direction again.

Clearly they didn’t want her to know what they were saying. Were they talking about the trouble brewing between the white settlers and the Utes? Even though she had heard her father talk about it, up until now the idea of there really being a war had not seemed possible.

Rose leaned into White Owl and felt his arm tighten around her. Her fear eased slightly. She had no doubt her new husband could protect her, but what about her family? Was there anything that could protect them?

“Are you all right?” White Owl asked as they left Chief Jack.

Rose nodded weakly. She was relieved that he had pulled her up to her feet, and she was still relying on him for support. Once she was certain they were far enough away, she whispered, “Please tell me your tribe is not going to start a war with the settlers?”

His body stiffened slightly. “Not with the settlers,” he replied curtly. His arm was still wrapped around her waist and his steps lengthened. Rose practically had to run to keep up with him.

“With who, then?” Rose insisted. “Another tribe?” She held her breath as she waited for him to answer, although she was sure she didn’t want to hear what he would say. A war with the people at the White River Indian Agency would only be the beginning, and the effect would result in a war with all the white men determined to chase the Utes out of the territory.

As they neared White Owl’s tepee, he finally slowed his steps and stopped. He turned to look at Rose. His dark gaze was a window to his thoughts,
and she was sure his torment was equal to her own. She closed her eyes for an instant and drew in a heavy breath. Before she could speak, White Owl pulled her up against his chest. She heard his heavy sigh whisper through her hair.

“I’m sorry, Wild Rose. Soon my people are going to fight with yours, and there is no way to stop it.”

Rose felt a strangling fear rise up to her throat. She stepped back. “No!” The pain in his expression was obvious, but he could not offer her any comfort. “Please—no,” she repeated.

“If you want to leave here—to return to your family—I will understand.” His voice was low and raspy. “It will rip my heart out, but I will understand.”