A Whisper In The Wind (19 page)

But death did not come. The herd divided, flowing in two dark brown waves around the carcass of the horse.

His heart was still pounding furiously when Yellow Spotted Wolf rode up and dragged him out from under the horse’s belly.

“Close call,” Yellow Spotted Wolf said, laying his hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Too close.”

And now the hunt was over and the butchering began. The women rode out, identifying their husband’s kills by the markings on their arrows and lances. Children who had never been present at a chase before were taken aside and blood was smeared over their cheeks.

Michael knew a sense of pride as he watched Hemene help Elayna butcher his kill. The scent of dust and sweat and fresh-spilled blood hung heavy in the air as the butchering began. The tongue and the nose were delicacies, as was the liver when sprinkled with gall. The small intestines would be filled with chopped meat and roasted or boiled. The marrow bones were split and the contents eaten on the spot.

Elayna gagged and looked away as one of the warriors ate the heart cut from a young calf. Michael had told her that, except for the bones and the hooves, the whole animal was used for food in some form or another. She had thought he was exaggerating, but as she watched the Indians savor the liver and the marrow, she knew he had been telling the truth. Even the blood would be cooked until all the moisture was gone and it was hard, like jelly.

She had learned, in the few short weeks she had lived with the Cheyenne, that they ate all manner of things that made her stomach queasy: young wolves and coyotes, puppies, wildcats and panthers, badgers and skunks, even their horses when necessary.

It took hours of work to skin a buffalo, butcher the meat, tan the hides. And it was all woman’s work. Elayna had never toiled so hard in her life as she did that day, working beside Hemene. She knew Michael had thought the hunt great fun, but she found no pleasure in it, nor in the blood that stained her hands and skirt.

There was a feast that night. The Cheyenne seemed to throw a feast for every occasion, and after the feast there would be dancing, and that was something she had learned to enjoy.

And after the dancing, she followed Michael into the privacy of their lodge. Whatever differences lay between them were forgotten in the warm cocoon of darkness that surrounded them. There was neither red nor white now, only two people in love—a man caught up in a time that was not his and a woman living among an alien people, and yet both were content to be there.

Michael made love to Elayna tenderly that night, his close brush with death making whatever time he had left with her all the more precious, her love that much sweeter. He hadn’t told her what had happened, how easily he might have been killed, only that his horse had gone down and had to be destroyed.

But now they were alone and she was in his arms and he told her with each gentle kiss and lingering caress that he loved her, that he would always love her.

Elayna gloried in his touch, in the rough satin of his skin as her hands kneaded his back and shoulders. She moaned with sweet ecstasy as he kissed her again, their breath mingling, becoming one, as their souls were one.

They came together like two halves of a perfect whole, each kiss adding fuel to the fire between them until they reached that one golden moment when his pleasure melded with hers, and hers with his, making them truly one heart, one soul, one flesh.

And for that moment, there was no thought of tomorrow, only the magic and the wonder of now.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sleep did not find Michael that night. Instead, he recalled how close he had come to death that afternoon when his horse went down. He remembered the fear that had gripped him when Elayna had been kidnapped by the Pawnee, his sense of helplessness, of loss. He had made her his woman, yet she was not truly his, would never be his until he could call her wife.

Time might separate them, death might part them, but for whatever time they would have together, he wanted Elayna to be his wife in every sense of the word.

He watched her all through the night, his eyes seldom leaving her face. He loved her, and it had been worth a trip back in time to find her, to find himself.

He kissed her gently as she woke up. Smothering her questions with kisses, he told her to get dressed while he got their horses.

Elayna’s stomach was all aflutter as she pulled on her tunic and moccasins, then brushed her hair. Where were they going so early in the day?

Michael refused to answer her questions, and a short time later they were riding downriver.

A stand of lacy cottonwoods and ferns offered a cozy hideaway. Michael lifted Elayna from her horse, tethered their mounts to a nearby sapling, then spread a blanket beneath a tree and drew Elayna down beside him.

Elayna smiled up at him, her dark eyes filled with curiosity. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

Michael lifted his left shoulder and let it fall. “I wanted some time away from the village, just the two of us.” He took her hand in his, his thumb massaging her knuckles. “You might have been killed the day the Pawnees attacked us.” He shook his head when she started to speak. “Let me finish. There are no guarantees in life,” he said ruefully. “No one knows that better than I do. Anything could happen. We might have years together, we might have days…”

“Michael…”

He placed his forefinger over her mouth. “However long we’ve got, I want you to belong to me. Only me.”

“But I do.”

“I’m asking you to marry me.”

“Marry you,” she breathed, her eyes suddenly moist. “Oh, Michael!”

“I hope those are tears of joy.”

“Yes, oh yes.” She threw herself into his arms, covering his face with kisses and tears.

“Hemene is making the necessary preparations.”

“Oh, she is, is she!” Elayna said, feigning a pout. “Just when did you arrange all this?”

“First thing this morning. The ceremony will be this afternoon.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she teased, joy bubbling up inside her.

“Well, since we’ve been living together since we got here, I didn’t think you’d say no.”

His kiss, when it came, was filled with hope and promise for the future. His hands caressed her, and yet he held his desire in check, wanting Elayna to be his wife the next time they made love.

He smiled suddenly and then, before she could guess what he had in mind, he picked her up and carried her to the river’s edge.

“No!” Elayna shrieked. “Michael, don’t you dare! Oh!” She gasped as he dropped her into the water, which was shallow and very, very cold.

“I’ll get you for this,” she warned, shaking her fist at him.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” he retorted with a grin.

Elayna sprang to her feet and gave chase, but Michael quickly outdistanced her and she turned her back to him, pretending to pout.

She sniffed loudly as she heard his footsteps coming up behind her.

“Should I apologize?” he asked, and she heard the laughter in his voice.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said solemnly.

“You promise never to do it again? Well, do you?”

“No,” he decided, and picking her up, he carried her into the river and sat down, holding her on his lap.

“I’ll be a waterlogged bride if you don’t let me dry off soon,” Elayna remarked.

“You’ll be a beautiful bride, wet or dry.”

She had to kiss him for that, and then he was kissing her, and it was a long time before they left the river.

On the bank, she watched him undress, loving the sight of him, more pleased than she’d thought possible at the prospect of being his wife. Mrs. Michael Wolf. Mrs. Elayna Wolf. She smiled as shivers of delight coursed through her. Mr. and Mrs. Michael Wolf. It was too wonderful to be true.

They sat side by side on the grass, letting the sun dry their hair and clothes. It was all Michael could do to keep his hands off her, to make himself wait. Only a few more hours and then she would be rightfully his. He was surprised at how deeply he felt the need to make her his wife.

When they returned to the village, Hemene took Elayna to Mo’ohta-vo’nehe’s lodge. Sunflower Woman was waiting for them, and Elayna found herself being purified and dressed by the two women.

“Ho-nehe has chosen well,” Hemene remarked as she rubbed the inside of Elayna’s thighs with sweet sage. “His bride’s skin is as soft and smooth as the petals of the wild roses that grow along the banks of the Greasy Grass.”

Sunflower Woman nodded in agreement. “She has fine breasts and good hips. Such women make good mothers.”

Elayna blushed furiously, embarrassed by their frankness, flattered by their praise.

“And Elayna has also chosen well,” Hemene added. “Ho-nehe will be a good husband, a good provider.” She slid a knowing glance at Elayna. “He will warm you well when the nights grow long and cold.”

“And fill your belly with children,” Sunflower Woman said solemnly, and patted her own burgeoning belly.

The two Indian women smiled at each other as they slipped a tunic over Elayna’s head. Elayna marveled at the velvet-like texture of the dress, the intricate beading across the bodice, the delicate fringe that fell from the sleeves. Tiny silver bells had been fastened to the fringe so that each movement was accompanied by the soft, tinkling music of the bells.

“It’s beautiful,” Elayna said. “Thank you.”

“I wore it on my wedding day,” Sunflower Woman said. “It was a gift from Hemene. Now I give it to you, and pray you find the same happiness with Ho-nehe that I have found with Soaring Eagle.”

Elayna blinked back tears of gratitude as she squeezed Sunflower Woman’s hands, too overcome with emotion to speak.

She sat down and Hemene brushed her hair, parted it in the middle, and dabbed the part with vermilion. New moccasins were placed on her feet, and a necklace of tiny white shells was placed around her neck.

Sunflower Woman and Hemene smiled at each other, pleased with their handiwork, confident that Wolf would also be pleased when he saw Elayna.

“He waits,” Sunflower Woman reminded them, and the two Indian women escorted Elayna out of the lodge.

A white horse was waiting near the doorway and Hemene and Sunflower Woman helped Elayna onto its back, then led the horse to Michael’s lodge.

Elayna felt her cheeks grow warm as she saw the crowd gathered outside their lodge. She saw Yellow Spotted Wolf and Mo’ohta-vo’nehe standing beside Soaring Eagle. But there was no sign of Michael.

When they reached the lodge, Sunflower Woman spread a blanket on the ground, then Yellow Spotted Wolf stepped forward. Lifting Elayna from the horse, he placed her on the blanket and motioned for her to sit down. Her heart was fluttering in her breast as Yellow Spotted Wolf, Mo’ohta-vo’nehe, Soaring Eagle, and three other men grasped the blanket by the corners. Lifting two sides, they carried her into the lodge.

A small fire burned in the center of the tipi. Michael was standing beside the fire. Elkskin leggings hugged his long, muscular legs; his shirt was made of the same material. A single streak of white paint adorned his left cheek, an eagle feather had been tied in his hair.

He looked very Indian, and very handsome.

The men lowered the blanket to the ground, then Mo’ohta-vo’nehe took Elayna’s hand and helped her to her feet.

Elayna gazed at Michael, only vaguely aware that Hemene and Sunflower Woman had entered the lodge. The Indian men and women formed a half-circle around the bride and groom, and then the medicine man, Red-Furred Bear, stepped into the lodge, resplendently draped in a white buffalo robe.

“Ho-nehe and E-layna are now married according to the customs of our people,” Red-Furred Bear intoned in a solemn voice befitting the occasion, “but because the woman, E-layna, is white, they wish to marry
wehoevistoma-zistoz
, in the white man’s way. So I ask you, E-layna, do you wish to have Ho-nehe for your
nahyan
, your husband?”

“Yes,” Elayna murmured, her heart brimming with joy. “I wish to have Ho-nehe as my
nahyan
, my husband.”

“And you, Ho-nehe, do you wish to have this woman for your
mazheem
, your wife?”

“Yes,” Michael replied, unable to draw his gaze from the love shining in Elayna’s eyes. “Very much.”

“Then I say to all who are gathered here that Ho-nehe and the woman E-layna are one blood and one heart. May the Great Spirit bless you with many strong sons and daughters.”

Red-Furred Bear chuckled softly, his rheumy old eyes alight with merriment. “The ceremony is over, Ho-nehe. You may kiss her now, in the manner of the
vehoe
.”

Everything else faded into the distance as Michael took Elayna into his arms. Never had she looked more beautiful. Never had he loved her more. His woman. His wife.

Gently, tenderly, he kissed her.

Elayna’s eyelids fluttered down as Michael’s lips covered her own. She felt the tenderness in him, the barely restrained passion, the love that flowed between them as strong and deep as the Platte at floodtide. Her heart swelled, her emotions rising to the surface and spilling over in tears of joy. She was Michael’s wife. Nothing could part them now.

Gradually Michael became aware of the soft murmur of conversation, of Red-Furred Bear’s amused laughter as Yellow Spotted Wolf remarked that he would have to try the
vehoe
manner of kissing soon.

Elayna’s cheeks were flushed when Michael finally released her. Hand in hand, they accepted the good wishes of Michael’s family and friends.

Sunflower Woman patted her swollen belly and then patted Elayna’s stomach and smiled. Elayna smiled back, pleased at the thought of giving Michael a son. Many sons.

Of course there was a feast, and dancing. And singing. Elayna thought the day would never end. Not that she didn’t appreciate the kindness and good wishes of the people, only that she was anxious to be alone with Michael. Her husband. The mere word filled her with a rush of excitement and exhilaration.

Husband, husband, husband
. She whispered the word to the beat of the drum.

And then, at last, Michael was beside her, taking her hand in his, leading her away from the festivities to the privacy of their lodge.

A low fire burned inside. Sprigs of sweet-smelling sage had been placed beside their sleeping robes.

She felt a sudden shyness as Michael secured the lodge for the night. She was being silly, she thought as she toyed with the fringe on her sleeve. This was Michael. They had shared this lodge for weeks now, had slept together, eaten together, bathed together.

But she was his wife now, and this was their wedding night, and she was as nervous as any new bride. But then he took her in his arms and everything was all right. This was Michael.

He drew her close, his desire evident in the tension in his arms, in the thrust of his manhood against her thigh, in the rasp of his voice as he murmured her name, telling her that she was beautiful, that he loved her, would always love her.

He slid the tunic over her shoulders, the bells tinkling as it fell to the floor, and then he was kissing her, his lips moving over the curve of her shoulder, down the inside of her arm, across her breasts. One hand cupped her buttocks, holding her close against him.

Elayna moaned low in her throat, her skin feverish, her hips arching toward him, her whole body aching to receive him. Too weak to stand, she drew him down on the buffalo robes and tugged at his shirt, impatient to feel his bared flesh against her own.

Her haste made her clumsy and he chuckled softly as he shrugged out of his shirt, clout, and leggings. Elayna smiled at the unmistakable proof of his desire, sighed his name as he covered her body with his. Her fingers moved through his hair, slid down his back, caressed the strength of his arms. She gloried in his touch, in touching him.

From outside came the faint notes of a flute, the soft sweet music of love serenading them, whispering into the lodge to mingle with the low crackle of the fire.

She heard Michael whisper her name and she rose up to meet him, her arms drawing him closer, closer. His eyes blazed with desire, his need consuming her as flames consumed kindling. His skin was dark, sheened with perspiration, his hair the color of midnight, warm where it brushed her cheek. He was Man, primal, masterful, yet gentle, and she was Woman, eternal, submissive, yet equal, eager to bear his love, to give life to life.

Her head fell back, her nails raking his back, as his life spilled into her, filling her with warmth, his love making her complete at last…