“I never turned my back on the Sioux or you,” Meadow whispered.
Black Horse pressed his finger against her lips to silence her. “I should have believed you—I should have believed in our love.”
A small cry escaped from Meadow.
Wakan Tanka
had heard her prayers.
He fiddled with the annoying buckle on the belt Meadow wore to hold up her baggy pants for only a second before she reached down and yanked the clasp apart for him. Meadow kicked the loose boots and pants away from her feet in one quick movement while Black Horse pushed the coat and shirt away from her shoulders. Buttons flew into the darkness as he ripped the last of the shirt away from her and tossed it aside.
Meadow’s entire body was exposed to his touch, and she shivered in anticipation. The one night they had spent together had burned like an eternal flame deep
inside of her, and the memory ignited such a fire that now she could not control her body’s frenzied response to him.
Once the tattered clothing that Black Horse was wearing had been discarded, their bare skin molded intimately together, and she eagerly allowed him access as his hips slid in between her thighs. She fought the urge to cry out loud when she fleetingly recalled that Walks Tall and the others were nearby. She would have to remain quiet on this beautiful, fateful night.
Black Horse’s longing seemed equal to her own, and, as he pressed relentlessly inside her, Meadow heard him groan as though he was almost unable to control himself. They moved together in perfection and desperation, clinging to one another as if they would die if they loosened their hold. As Black Horse’s hips moved harder and faster, Meadow’s hips matched each and every movement. She wasn’t aware that her nails dug into his back or that her vow to keep quiet was broken as they reached a climax that left her weak and trembling.
Black Horse lay atop her for a couple of moments as if he was too spent to move. When he did rise up, it was only far enough so that he could bring his lips to her mouth in a hot kiss that devoured her breath with its intensity. Then, keeping her within his possessive hold, Black Horse rolled off of her and cradled her against his side. Meadow curled up as close as she could get to him and laid her head on his chest. Everything in their tumultuous lives was calm when she was in this man’s arms.
Meadow woke to the chill of the morning. She burrowed underneath the blanket to cover her freezing nose and realized with a start that she was alone. In spite of the cold, she threw the blanket off and sat up. There was no sign of Black Horse or any of the other warriors. Panic began to well up in her chest until she spotted two horses still tied to the bushes not far away—Walks Tall’s horse, Hawk, and the horse that Black Horse had ridden yesterday. But where were all the other horses and the men?
Maybe they were hunting for breakfast. The thought of a roasted rabbit or sage hen made her mouth water. She wrapped the fur blanket around herself until she located the shirt and pants she had been wearing last night. The pants where still wearable, but the shirt was now without buttons, and the buttonholes were ripped wide open.
Meadow couldn’t help but smile as she donned the shirt and remembered the way he had torn it off her. She clutched the shirt together until she found the bag that held her Indian dress and high moccasins, and also the white wedding blanket that she still carried everywhere she went. Slipping under the cover of the blanket, Meadow quickly discarded the uncomfortable pants and shirt and slipped her soft hide dress
over her head and her feet into the comfy knee-high moccasins. As she tightened the laces that ran up the front of her moccasins, she vowed to herself that she would never wear white man’s clothes again.
Meadow stood, smoothed her dress down over her hips and ran her fingers through her tousled hair. She would try to braid it later, but first she had to find her man. She knew from past experience not to call out to them. Enemies—or even wild animals—could be close by, and the sound of her voice could alert them to her presence. Meadow wandered cautiously toward the horses and glanced around. Off in the distance she could see a towering cascade of mountains, and she assumed that they would be headed in that direction, since Walks Tall had mentioned that they would be meeting up with other Sioux—renegades, most likely—that lived somewhere in the mountains.
Meadow drew in a deep breath and stared at the distant mountains. Would Black Horse really take her there with him? Even though their actions the previous night had held more raw passion than she had ever known could exist between a man and a woman, she realized now that they had hardly spoken a word to one another during or after their impassioned lovemaking. If he was trying to punish her, she thought, he had definitely picked the wrong method. She had not felt anything but pure pleasure.
As she stared at the two horses, another thought came that made her insides twist with terror. She leaned against a tree for support when she realized that Black Horse might actually be gone. What if he and the other warriors had ridden off in the middle of the night and left Walks Tall here to take her back to
the village? Maybe he had decided that last night had been a terrible mistake and that he never wanted to see her again. Her nervous gaze scanned the area again as she started to walk toward the horses.
Being alone with her insecurities and fears was making her frantic. Forgetting the caution she had been taught, Meadow opened her mouth to call out for them. The words stuck in her throat as a hand clamped roughly over her mouth and fingers dug into the side of her face. Meadow reached up, intending to claw the face of her attacker, but he grasped her wrist as if he had known what she was about to do. She struggled helplessly as she was dragged back into a clump of heavy brush and pulled forcibly down to the ground. She felt the prickly branches of the bushes scratching her face and arms as her bottom hit the hard ground, but she was as defenseless against them as she was against her attacker.
In the shelter of the bushes, Meadow’s captor forced her to turn around so that she could see his face. As her gaze met his, the shock nearly rendered her incoherent. But she could see the silent warning in Black Horse’s ebony eyes and knew that they were both in danger. She tried to swallow the constricting lump in her throat as she also tried to convey to him that she understood that he was trying to protect her from someone or something.
Meadow felt his grip around her mouth and jaw loosen, and she nodded her head as he slowly pulled his hand away from her face and raised his forefinger to his mouth in a gesture for her to remain quiet. He also released his tight hold on her wrist and then motioned for her to remain on the ground. She swallowed hard again,
hoping that she could catch the breath she had been holding and not start coughing or gasping. With her own hand clasped over her mouth, Meadow turned to look in the direction that held Black Horse’s attention.
The sight that met her eyes made Meadow grateful that she had clamped her hand tightly over her mouth, because it prevented the scream that threatened to escape from her. Riding straight toward them were a half dozen soldiers, and the one in the lead was none other than her own brother, Robert McBain!
Meadow’s startled gaze moved back to Black Horse, and she noticed that he held the old bone-handled knife that Walks Tall had given him last night. Walks Tall and the other warriors had rifles, and she could only hope that they were hiding somewhere nearby with guns aimed at the soldiers, because the knife Black Horse clasped would not offer much protection. A rush of strange emotions flooded through Meadow—blinding fear for the man she loved and for their friend, Walks Tall, but also sadness and guilt that she would rather see her own flesh and blood die than lose either one of them.
The image of her brother’s hate-filled expression when had he told her that he never wanted her to mention “those animals” again flashed before her eyes. He undoubtedly had heard about her part in Black Horse’s escape, so she was certain that he must really despise her now. That he had come all this way to find them was proof that he would never forgive her for wanting to be with the Sioux more than with her own family. A shudder racked Meadow’s entire body as she realized that her own brother had probably come here to kill her.
The troop of soldiers was almost to where the two horses were tied, and Meadow knew it would be just seconds before the men knew that they had caught up to their prey. A feeling of helplessness mingled with her terror; they were trapped like animals in a pen. She looked to Black Horse for encouragement. His dark lashes were narrowed into thin slits around his eyes, and his full lips were drawn into a tight line. Even after everything that he had suffered in the past months, the power he still emitted was staggering. But did he have the strength to go into battle so soon?
A fleeting memory of the previous night passed through her mind, and in spite of their precarious situation, Meadow felt a heated blush rush into her cheeks. Last night he had seemed plenty strong enough to fight any war. But last night he had not been fighting for his life.
Lieutenant McBain and his contingent were stopped beside the two Indian ponies now, and they were all looking around cautiously as if they expected to be ambushed at any second. Meadow heard him order his men to spread out and search the area. The pounding of her heart sounded so loud to her own ears that Meadow wondered if the soldiers could hear it. Her frightened gaze moved back to Black Horse. He had scooted away from her and was crouched down on his heels and ready to pounce forward, like a mountain lion stalking his prey. His deadly expression had not changed.
Meadow drew in a trembling breath. She was prepared to fight, too. She was, after all, the main reason these soldiers were here. She could not escape from the image of her brother’s ruthless expression when he
had talked about the Sioux. There would be no reasoning with him, but she had to do something.
The soldiers were on foot now as they began to search through the sparse cedars that grew in the area. Meadow knew it would only be a matter of seconds before they spotted her and Black Horse. She panicked, jumping up from the protection of the brush and lunging forward before Black Horse had a chance to stop her.
“Robert,” she called out. She thought she heard Black Horse say something to her, but she did not acknowledge him as she hurried out into the open to face her brother alone. Her legs felt wobbly beneath her, and she worried that she would fall if she couldn’t control her shaking. She spoke En glish, but it was impossible to talk without her voice quivering. “It—it’s m-me that you want, Robert,” she cried out. “I know that y-you think I’ve shamed you a-and the memory of our f-family, but—”
“But what, little sister?” the lieutenant spat, cutting off her words. His gaze raked up and down as if he was assessing her Indian attire. “Do you want me to forget that you are a traitor to our race, and a complete disgrace to our family’s memory? Just look at you.” He raised his rifle up and aimed it directly at her head. “You are no better than the dirty savages that you are trying to protect,” he added. His tone of voice was filled with venom, and the disgusted expression on his face showed the disdain he felt for his flesh and blood.
Meadow’s vision focused on the end of the gun barrel pointed straight at her head, and she tried to think. Would her impulsive gesture give Black Horse—and, she hoped, the others—time to make a stand against
the soldiers, or had she just sealed their fate? “R-Rob-ert, I can’t help the way I feel. I know that you will never understand why, but please—”
“Where are they!” he screamed, cutting her off again. “That buck you broke out of the prison and the other ones that you were riding with. Are you lying with all of those dirty animals?”
As his horrible accusation reached Meadow’s stunned ears, she did not have time to react. In the next instant, a barrage of gunfire accompanied a flurry of activity that Meadow did not see, as she was knocked to the ground when Black Horse rushed from his hiding place and pushed her out of the line of fire.
Meadow felt her body hit the hard ground, but she did not have a chance to protect herself as the back of her head thudded against a protruding rock. Darkness stole away the last of the morning sunlight from her eyes.
The cool rag against her forehead was soothing, but it did not mask the throbbing pain at the back of her head. “You are a foolish woman,” Meadow heard as she forced her eyes slowly open. Her vision blurred for a moment before she was able to focus on the handsome face that loomed above her. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a weak moan escaped.
“You could have been killed,” Black Horse continued in an aggravated tone. “That was a crazy thing that you did.”
“She saved your life—again,” said Walks Tall. “The soldiers would have walked right up on the two of you if she had not distracted them for a few minutes, and your one little knife was a pitiful match for six guns.”
“It hit its target,” Black Horse retorted.
Meadow gasped as she touched the back of her head, which was throbbing even more violently now. “Wh-what happened?” she asked. Her fingers gingerly felt at the open cut that oozed blood. She quickly pulled her bloodied hand away.
“You will live,” Black Horse said. He carefully began to tie a rag around her head to help stop the bleeding as he softly thanked
Wakan Tanka
over and over again that she had not been hurt too badly when he pushed her out of the way.
Meadow’s gaze rose up to his face as he spoke the harsh words, but his expression and the tenderness in his actions told her that he was not as angry as he sounded. “What happened?” she repeated. She attempted to sit up, but the back of her head felt as if it was about to explode like a cannon, and Black Horse’s hand against her shoulder gently pushed her back to the ground.
“The soldiers are dead.”
Black Horse’s brief statement did not register for a few seconds. But as his words slowly began to sink into her foggy brain, she whispered, “All of them?”
Black Horse nodded his head. He stared down at Meadow as if he was afraid to speak. She wondered if he had understood any of the exchange between her and Robert. But before she had a chance to ask him, he responded as if he had read her mind.
“I heard the words you and the soldier spoke,” Black Horse said in a low tone of voice.
Not only had he understood their words, but Meadow sensed by the way he was looking at her that he was finally beginning to understand just how devoted she was to her adoptive people—and most of all, to him.
“I have killed your brother,” Black Horse whispered as he leaned down closer to her. He slid his arm under her neck and carefully raised her up so that their faces were only a couple of inches apart.
“He would have killed me without a second thought,” she answered. “He would have killed you, too. You only did what had to be done.”
Black Horse did not respond with words, but rather by pulling Meadow up tight against his chest. She could
feel the pounding of his heart against her cheek. The throbbing in her head almost seemed to disappear now that Black Horse was holding her as if he was never going to let her go again. But when she heard Walks Tall clearing his throat loudly, she knew that this tender embrace was about to end.
As Black Horse slowly released his tight hold, Meadow tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. There she saw the man that she had missed so desperately, and as the reflection of her own face became evident in his ebony gaze, Meadow felt there was nothing that could ever tear them apart again.
“We should leave here as soon as possible,” Walks Tall said.
“
Sha
,” Black Horse replied as he pushed himself up from the ground. He extended his hand down to help Meadow to her feet.
Standing up made her head swim, and the fall against the hard ground had also made her entire body feel as if she had just been kicked by a wild stallion. When her legs threatened to give out, she once again felt Black Horse’s strong arms encircle her floundering form as he swept her up and carried her to their horse.
With a nervous glance around, a trembling sigh escaped from Meadow. There was no evidence of the deadly battle that had just been fought.
“I have asked my warriors to bury your brother and the others,” Black Horse stated as if he could read her mind.
“Thank you,” she whispered as a fiery tear escaped from the corner of one of her eyes. An engulfing sadness filled her as she thought about the boy that she did not remember, and the man—the brother—she
would never forget. In some ways, she realized now, he really had died with the rest of her family on that October day long ago. Only his hatred for the Indians had kept him going all these years, and it had finally been his demise. Still, a part of her would grieve for him, now that she had learned of his existence, and she would be eternally grateful to him for the brief glimpse he had given to her of her past life.
“I will not be going up into the mountains with you,” Walks Tall said as he rode up beside the couple. “Not yet, anyway. I have something I must take care of in Canada.”
Meadow glanced over at the warrior and met his gaze. When he winked at her, she knew what he planned. “We will look forward to seeing you and Gentle Water soon. Then, we can have those two weddings we talked about,” Meadow answered.
“I see there is much I have missed,” Black Horse added. He nestled his face into Meadow’s golden locks. “You can tell me all that I need to know when we reach the safety of the mountain camp.”
As she reached her hand up to cradle his chin in her embrace, Meadow replied, “All you need to know is that I love you with all my heart and that I will never leave you again—not intentionally, anyway.”
“I know,” he whispered, and then he kissed the inside of her palm. “I will never doubt that again.”
Walks Tall began to turn his horse away from them as he said, “I will bring Dusya when I return. He has missed you, my brother.”
Black Horse smiled and nodded. “I will be glad to see that evil horse again, too.”
Walks Tall met his friend’s gaze as he loosened
Hawk’s reins and let the stallion break into a trot. “We will meet again—soon.”
As the rider and stallion became a small dot on the distant horizon and then disappeared altogether, Meadow was finally able to swallow the heavy lump that had settled in her throat. “What do you think will become of us?” she asked Black Horse as they continued on their endless journey.
A heavy sigh echoed from the war chief before he finally spoke. “I wish I could tell you that everything would turn out the way
Wakan Tanka
meant for it to be for our people…that our bellies would always be full of buffalo and sweet berries and that the white men would go back to their own lands and leave us to live in peace on the lands that have belonged to us since the beginning of time. But that is apparently not what destiny holds for us. We will continue to fight with our enemies, and every single day will continue to be a struggle for our people. Yet, in spite of all of that—and because of all of that—we will always, always find a way to survive. We will have many children so that our people will never fade away completely, and most of all, we will love one another with a passion that cannot be equaled until we take our last dying breath.”
Meadow felt Black Horse’s hand gently touch her stomach as he spoke of the children they would have. Maybe they had already planted the seed of their first son last night. His brave words filled her with hope and gave her the courage to face whatever the future held for them. She felt the warmth of his strong arms surrounding her, and knew that wherever this trail led them, she was exactly where she belonged.