Wind Warrior (Historical Romance) (21 page)

Dull Knife had built a fire where the rocky path widened a bit and seated Rain Song nearby. She was listless and kept falling asleep.

“I pushed you hard, but we had to leave the high mountain or we both would have died.”

She closed her eyes, her head falling forward. He touched her face and it was feverish. Worried about her, he bent and rubbed her hands.

“Let me die,” she moaned past the burning in her throat.

“I will not. When you are warm enough, we will continue, even if I have to carry you.” This time his voice held concern, not a threat.

Shaking her head wearily, Rain Song looked at him. “I despise you. Must you always destroy my life?”

Anger fueled his actions. He grabbed her hand and yanked her up. “We resume our journey.”

Rain Song didn’t know where her strength came from, but she struggled, trying to pry his hand away. “Leave me alone!”

Twisting around, she found herself staring over a deep crevice. If she fell, it would kill her baby. The cliff edge was iced over and slick. She felt her feet
sliding out from under her, taking her nearer the drop-off.

Two things happened at once—Dull Knife grabbed her hand to keep her from slipping over the cliff, and Chinook came flying through the air, her teeth bared as she went for Dull Knife’s throat.

Stepping back in surprise, Dull Knife tottered on the edge of the cliff. He grabbed for Rain Song’s hand, and she began to slide with him. In one brief moment, Dull Knife looked into her eyes and let go of her hand.

Reaching out to him, Rain Song watched him tumble downward, bouncing off boulders as he fell. Far down below, she saw his dead body lying like a broken doll.

Sobbing, and covering her face, she was shaken by the horror of what had occurred. Dull Knife could have taken her with him when he fell, and she had been looking into his eyes when he’d decided to let her live. For whatever reason, he had spared her life.

She was crying and Chinook licked her face. Throwing her arms around the wolf, she shuddered. “You saved my life.” She couldn’t stop crying. “You wonderful wolf—you saved me!”

Then it hit her. Dull Knife was dead. She need no longer fear him. She was not sorry, because of what he had done to Susan.

Gathering her robe about her, she stood. “I am lost, Chinook. I do not know my way back to the cave. But I do know if I follow that stream, it will eventually take me to the Milk River and home.”

Chinook turned her shaggy head and looked at Rain Song, as if waiting for her to make a move.

Although she was exhausted, Rain Song stepped lightly as she started down the steep path, holding on to Chinook so she would not fall.

“Come on,” she said, joy filling her heart. “Wind Warrior will find us in the village.”

Sergeant Sanderson had just returned from patrol. He dismounted and hurried to the major’s tent. “Sir,” he said, working his hands out of his gloves, “we spotted a group of Indians from a distance, but when we gave chase, they disbursed through the woods, and we saw nary hide nor hair of ‘em.”

“It was hopeless from the start,” Major Worthington said, pacing the crowded boundaries of his tent. “A chance in a million we would find her. No more than that.”

“What do we do, sir?”

Major Worthington’s eyes widened and he pointed in amazement at the animal that had just entered the tent. “Isn’t that a wolf?” he asked, unsnapping the flap of his holster.

“I believe it is, sir.” The sergeant placed his hand on his commander’s arm. “But it doesn’t seem dangerous.”

Lillian came into the tent, her eyes wide with wonder. “This, gentlemen, is Chinook. She belongs to Marianna. Since the wolf is here, Marianna will not be far behind.”

Chinook turned around, heading out of the tent, and then returned. “Why, I believe she wants us to
follow her,” Major Worthington said, resnapping his holster.

Chinook looked into the major’s eyes, and it was as if the animal had spoken to him. “Lead on, Chinook,” he said.

Rain Song tossed on the small cot as fever wracked her body.

Major Worthington sat next to her, forcing her to drink from his canteen. “Just a little more, Miss Bryant.”

She pushed his hand away, saying words he could not understand. Probably Blackfoot, he reasoned.

Marianna Bryant was no longer the carefree young girl he remembered, who had raised her voice in church and delighted everyone with her sweet song. She was a beautiful woman, and he didn’t know what to do with her.

“Major,” Lillian called out. “Can I see Marianna?”

“Yes. Please come in. Maybe you can tell me what she is saying.”

Lillian gazed down on the person she hated most in the world. “Sure I will, Major.” She bent down to Rain Song. “Where does it hurt?” she asked in Blackfoot.

“Spotted Flower? What are you doing here? I must find Wind Warrior…Please help me,” she whispered, so tired she could barely get the words out.

“Why should I?”

“He…probably believes I’m dead. Find him…tell him I am fine…and so is our baby.” Her words trailed off as she fell into a deep sleep.

Lillian’s eyes narrowed. “She wants to be taken back to Fort Benton, Major. She hopes you will leave before the Blackfoot come for her.” Lillian stood. “She’s afraid they will keep her captive.”

“Then assure her we will leave at first light in the morning.” He glanced down at the golden-haired woman. “She is the loveliest creature I have ever seen.”

Lillian drew in a disgusted breath. “So everyone thinks. I believe even Susan thought she was pretty,” she said, spitefully reminding the major of his dead wife.

“Susan thought everyone was pretty, Miss Baskin—she even trusted people and believed in their goodness,” he said angrily. “Get some sleep. We leave early.”

The troops moved out the next morning. They had rigged a litter for Rain Song, who kept going in and out of consciousness.

“No,” she moaned in Blackfoot. “Do not take me away from my people. I want my mother.”

“There, there,” Sergeant Sanderson assured her. “We’ll have you home in no time, miss.”

Rain Song felt despondent, disconnected.

She wanted Wind Warrior—she wanted her Blackfoot mother and father—wanted to see her little brother and sing him to sleep.

Pacing the room, she wrung her hands. “Wind Warrior, find me,” she cried in the Blackfoot language. “Please find me.”

“Poor thing,” she heard Mrs. Pierce, who was housing her, remark to her husband. “She’s quite lost her mind. They say this happens to white women when they’re captured by Indians.”

“Likely she won’t live long, feeling the way she does,” her husband observed.

“It might be a blessing if she died before the child is born. Imagine bringing such an—”

Rain Song whirled on Captain and Mrs. Pierce. “Stop talking about me as if I have no feelings,” she said in English, “and as if I don’t understand what you are saying. And how dare you think my baby would be better off if he died before he is born just because his father is a Blackfoot.”

“Well, well,” Mrs. Pierce said, ducking her head in shame. “It’s just that—well, you know, you will never fit in with white folks after you’ve been—”

Rain Song held up her hand. “After I’ve been given love and respect. After I was shown kindness and humanity by the Blackfoot people. My Indian mother would never treat anyone the way you have treated me. Why will you not let me go home?”

Captain Pierce cleared his throat. “We…ll, your aunt and uncle will be arriving from Washington within the month. Surely you will want to go home with them.”

Rain Song thought for a moment. She had loved her aunt and uncle, but she could not remember their faces. She would like to see them again, but her home was no longer with them.

Rain Song forced herself to sit in a rocking chair and fold her hands in her lap. She felt suffocated in the small parlor with lace curtains at the windows. She yearned to go outside, to breathe the air and walk free.

Mrs. Pierce was looking at her strangely, as if she didn’t want to say the wrong thing again.

Rain Song thought back to the white woman who had been taken captive by the Indians and returned to her white family. Everyone, including Rain Song, had pitied the woman, but thought she was crazed, with her pacing and not being able to communicate. For the first time Rain Song realized what that poor woman had suffered, with no one to understand that she probably just wanted to go back to her Indian family.

Most people at Fort Benton seemed to think Rain Song had lost her mind.

“Please tell Major Worthington I would like to speak to him, Mrs. Pierce.”

“He’s been here every day, asking about you, while you were ill. Such a nice young man.”

“Thank you.” Was she acting properly? she wondered. Had she given them any more reasons to think she had lost her mind?

“This is your first day out of the sickbed,” Mrs. Pierce said kindly. “Don’t you think you should rest? You are pale and look all tuckered out.”

Rain Song gripped her hands tighter. “I feel perfectly fine, thanks to your care. But there are some things I would like to speak to the major about. I want to tell him about his wife.”

“Well, sure, honey.” Mrs. Pierce looked doubtful. “You aren’t going to tell him how Susan died, are you?”

“I will never tell anyone about that. I promised Susan I would give her husband a message if I ever got the chance. I believe he would want to know what she told me.”

Rain Song stood. “I do think I’ll lie down. Please call me when the major arrives.”

“Of course, dear,” the older woman assured her.

Major Worthington arrived early in the afternoon. As he stood straight and tall in the Pierces’ parlor, he looked every bit the proper officer in his blue uniform and highly polished boots.

“I suggest, if you are feeling up to it, Miss Bryant, that we take a walk about the fort. I am sure you are weary of being shut in and would enjoy a nice outing.”

Rain Song grabbed the shawl Mrs. Pierce had given her, and the major helped her place it about her shoulders.

“I promise not to tire you. We won’t walk too far.”

She smiled. “I can see why Susan felt the way she did about you, Major. You have been very kind to me. This is my first chance to thank you.”

Mrs. Pierce nodded in approval as they left. “Do not take her as far as the parade ground. She is still weak.”

“I won’t, ma’am,” he said, holding the door for Rain Song. When they were out of hearing, he laughed. “Mrs. Pierce is kindness itself, but she is a bit of a mother hen, don’t you think?”

“I am grateful to her for taking care of me while I was ill.”

He turned to look at her. “I have never been one to beat around the bush, as they say. I know you have heard some unkind remarks and I want to tell you how sorry I am.”

“I don’t really care what the people of Fort Benton think about me. I do not belong here, and everyone knows it.”

“But you will have a new life when your aunt and uncle arrive. They will take you back to Washington with them, and you can leave the past behind, Miss Bryant.”

“I don’t want to leave the past behind. I want to go back to my husband. And, Major, please call me Rain Song. It is the name that is familiar to me.”

“If you would like. And will you call me Cullen?”

Rain Song smiled. “Susan was my friend.” She met his gaze. “She did what she could to take care of me, and even today…I miss her.”

Cullen stared down at his boots. “As do I.”

“Susan was extraordinary. She saw only the good in people. I liked that about her.”

“If you recognized that about her, you knew her very well.”

Rain Song stopped, pulling the shawl tighter about her shoulders in a nervous gesture. “Susan knew…they…would not be taking her to the Blackfoot village.” She swallowed a lump. “If I am completely honest with you, it may be my fault she is dead.”

“Miss Baskin said much the same thing to me. But I do not believe it.”

“It’s true. Susan realized…Dull Knife was not acting properly toward her. I encouraged her to run.” Tears were falling down Rain Song’s cheeks. “I told her to try to get away.”

Cullen shook his head. “It was not your fault. Any friend would have done the same.”

“You are generous.”

“Be generous with yourself, Rain Song. If my Susan liked you, then so do I.”

“Thank you,” she choked out. “You don’t know how relieved I am to have you tell me that.”

Cullen glanced toward the parade ground and touched her elbow, guiding her toward a small grassy area. “I get the impression you and Miss Baskin were not such good friends.”

“You are very astute.”

“And your ability to speak both Blackfoot and English is beyond anything I expected,” he said, looking at her with wonder.

“My aunt Cora was a world-traveled singer. She was also my teacher.”

“So I understand.”

They had been walking down a path lined with flowers and Rain Song stopped. “I have a message to you from Susan.”

He waited breathlessly.

“She said if I ever saw you, I should say this to you. I was to tell you she was not afraid.” Rain Song lowered her head, unable to look into his eyes, for they were shining with tears. “She wanted me to tell you she was taking your love with her wherever she went.” Her voice faltered and she had to clear her throat. “She said you should find another woman to love. She did not want you to live in loneliness.”

He turned his back, and she walked away, giving him privacy. He was a man who loved his wife, just as Wind Warrior loved her.

After a while, Cullen rejoined her. “Thank you for that. I don’t know if I will ever love anyone the way I loved her.”

“No. You won’t. But you are a wonderful man, and Susan wanted you to be happy. Take her love with you, but let her go.”

“If only…“

“I know. I want my husband. I love him with every bit of the intensity you feel for Susan. At the moment, he believes I am dead. I can only imagine the anguish he is suffering. I am sure you felt the same anguish.”

“You speak of the legendary Wind Warrior?”

“He is my husband. I carry his child. I believe you would like him.”

“Would Susan have liked him?”

“Yes. If they had ever met.” She touched his hand.
“I don’t know if this will give you comfort, but Dull Knife is dead.”

His jaw settled in a hard line. “I hope it was a long, painful death.”

“He was attacked by Chinook, and fell over a cliff—a very high cliff.”

For the first time, Cullen smiled. “I was ordered to pen the wolf that insisted on following you. I believe I will let her out and take her to my quarters, Rain Song.”

“I think Chinook will like that.”