Capture the Sun (Cheyenne Series) (25 page)

      
“I never told you—” She stopped short, remembering that she had said those precise words to Frank not too long ago. “Frank told you.”

      
He smiled. “I imagine just like he told you about me and Lola, and a whole lot of other things.”

      
“Yes,” she confessed. “I guess he did.”

      
“I'll make
you
a deal. I won't be mad at Frank if you won't. Agreed?” His smile was beautiful, and she warmed to it instantly.

      
“Agreed.”

      
Bright Leaf awakened and Carrie eagerly took the girl back oh her horse for the next hour's ride. They stopped midway for a brief lunch.

      
Carrie marveled at the soft haze over the mountains, pale lavender in the distance. The vastness of the big sky was awesome, the autumn sun hot and dazzling. The rolling grasslands of the basin seemed to undulate into eternity. She stared up and around. “This land is so desolate, yet lovely. Do you ever get used to the distances, the size of everything?’'

      
He laughed as he munched on a slice of Feliz's spicy roast pork. “Oh, you'll get used to the open spaces, at least in good weather. Just wait until a summer rain squall catches you unaware, or worse yet, a blue norther.”

      
She had heard Frank and the hands describe the sudden blistering cold rain or snowstorms that often caused temperatures to drop fifty degrees in a matter of hours, turning warm summer into killing winter. “No, thanks,” she said with a shudder. She alternately loved and hated this wild country.

      
When they arrived at Iron Heart's village, the noon sun was blazing. Carrie had not realized how large the Cheyenne encampment would be. Several hundred lodges stretched in a rough horseshoe shape, facing the east.

      
Women worked in the open, cleaning hides, pounding various concoctions with mauls in stone bowls and stirring pots over open fires. Men sat polishing arrowheads, sharpening knives and attending to other weapons. Small children raced about, playing with willow hoops and hitting skin-covered balls along the ground with wood sticks. Everyone seemed busy, except for a few old men who chatted together in small groups or sat solitary in the openings of lodges, observing the rich tapestry of Cheyenne life around them.

      
Carrie was nervous now as curious liquid brown eyes alighted on her and the unfamiliar Cheyenne child. It was not lost on them that she rode beside Iron Heart's grandson, who was now dressed in white man's garb. Soon word spread of Hunting Hawk's return with visitors. Everyone was polite, but Carrie felt she was on display. Despite the peacefulness of the villagers, it was not a comfortable sensation for her.

      
Without ever turning around on his big red horse, Hawk intuited her nervousness. “Just relax, Carrie. They only wonder who you are and why you're here with Bright Leaf.”

      
“And with you?” she quipped back nervously.

      
He grunted and reined Redskin in beside a large lodge where a tall old man with dark gray hair stood. At once Carrie knew this must be Iron Heart. Something in the facial features and the bearing marked him and Hawk as kin.

      
“I welcome you, Hunting Hawk. You bring the little one. It is good. Wind Song and Sweet Rain have been summoned.” His eyes turned to Carrie.

      
“Grandfather, this is Carrie Sinclair, the wife of He Who Walks in Sun. She has cared for Bright Leaf and did not want to give her up until another woman could win the child's trust.”

      
The old man regarded the beautiful flame-haired woman who held tightly to the frightened child. She rode astride like a Cheyenne woman, and sat straight and proud. “She has courage and a good heart,” he said in Cheyenne to Hawk. Then, in English, he addressed Carrie. “Welcome to the wife of He Who Walks in Sun. You have been kind to one of the People. For this I offer you thanks.”

      
Surprised to hear such clear English from Iron Heart, Carrie glanced at Hawk even as she nodded at his grandfather. She replied, “You're welcome. Bright Leaf is a wonderful child. I was pleased to help her.”

      
Hawk had dismounted and reached up for Bright Leaf, who went uncertainly into his arms, glancing around at all the unfamiliar faces in the huge encampment. Just as Carrie swung down from Taffy Girl, a tall, striking-looking young woman stepped up to Iron Heart. He turned and spoke to her, gesturing to Bright Leaf. Were all the Cheyenne so tall? Carrie wondered peevishly, unused to being dwarfed by those around her. Then she noticed the woman's eyes, a vivid dark green, just like her own.

      
Warily, with Hawk standing between them, the two women looked one another over. Hawk continued holding Bright Leaf and spoke to Wind Song, then to the child, introducing them.

      
Realizing the little girl's uncertainties, Carrie reached over and took one small copper-colored hand in her own, speaking to Hawk as she did so. “Tell her I will always remember her. Maybe someday we will meet again....” Her voice choked and she stopped, knowing an emotional scene would never be appreciated by these stoic people.

      
Hawk spoke to the child, translating Carrie's painful farewell and assuring her that Wind Song also would love her like a sister until her own mother and sisters returned to fetch her next summer or perhaps even sooner.

      
With one last clasp of Carrie's neck, the child went to Wind Song's open arms. As she carried Bright Leaf toward Sweet Rain, curiosity ate at Wind Song. Who was the white one with Hunting Hawk? Was she his woman? Perhaps the child could tell her. When she asked and had her reply, Wind Song smiled softly and hugged the girl affectionately.

      
Carrie watched the stately young woman walk away, regal as a queen. With a sudden wrench, a thought hit her.
Hawk could marry her.
Hoping he could not read her mind as he sometimes seemed to, she turned quickly, listening to what Iron Heart was saying to her.

      
“You are welcome to rest in my lodge through the heat of the day. Calf Woman has food and drink. I have some words to speak with my grandson.” With no further ado, he motioned her inside the large tepee.

      
It was surprisingly light and spacious inside, since the bottom of the skin wall was rolled up in several places, admitting a gentle breeze. The direct heat of the sun was broken, making it cool, as Iron Heart had indicated.

      
A wizened old crone smiled at her uncertainly and set before her a bowl full of berries and a portion of what looked like roasted fish. A gourd of cool water accompanied the repast, which Carrie was surprised to find quite palatable. She lay back on what she could best describe as a chaise longue, a wicket-backed, fur-padded couch by the perimeter of the tepee.

      
Just as she finished the food, Iron Heart came in and gracefully sat down against one of the couches. In Cheyenne society men did not eat with women, but since she was done, it was time to talk with her. She was the wife of He Who Walks in Sun, once a brother, now a bitter foe. Yet this woman had shown great kindness to a helpless child. Iron Heart did not understand and desired to learn more.
 

      
He had not been oblivious of the exchange between Wind Song and the fire-haired woman. They both wanted Hunting Hawk; of that he was certain. But this one was wed to his father. Such a thing was an unpardonable offense under the laws of the People or the
veho
. Despite this, Iron Heart was drawn to like Carrie. She was kind and had courage; she was accepting of other people's ways, a thing few of the veho could be.

      
“You are the wife of my sworn enemy, a man who has hurt my grandson, who hates the People. Why did you help Bright Leaf?”

      
Taken aback by his piercing black eyes, so like Hawk's, and by the unexpected and direct question, Carrie did not know what to reply, so she said simply, “I cannot help what Noah does. He is a twisted, bitter man. But I don't make war on injured children. My people are taught to love even their enemies. It is a basic part of our religion.”

      
He grunted. “Most white men must not be religious, then.”

      
She smiled sadly. “I suppose not. I can only speak for myself, not Noah, not others.”

      
“It does not make sense to love your enemy. Better to understand him, maybe make him your friend. Then you no longer have to fear him.”

      
She nodded at that unusual bit of logic. “I suppose it's another way of looking at the same thing. Where did you learn to speak our language so well? Did you go to school like your daughter?”

      
He smiled. “No. I visited your Great White Father when I was a young man, and I came home with many things in my heart. Your cities are great, your people as blades of grass on the prairies. We are few. I sent Laughing Woman to learn the ways·of the whites. She came back here to teach me. Then I gave her to a man she loved. I hoped for gladness but reaped sorrow.”

      
Wishing to console the old man, Carrie said softly, “But you still have Hawk. He's the good part of Noah, maybe the only good thing Noah's ever done.”

      
He gazed at her measuringly for a moment. “You love him.” He did not ask it, only said it. Carrie knew he meant Hawk, not Noah.

      
She sat frozen, by guilt and shame. She was married to Hawk's father. How, what could she reply? Surely it was not really true? A wild surge of pain welled up in her, and she struggled to subdue it.

      
“Do not answer. Your heart speaks for you, and it speaks in pain. Please listen. I want Hunting Hawk to come home to the People. He will not stay with his father. There is no place for him. He will only go off to die in the hot lands to the south. It almost happened once before. If he lives among the
veho
, they will kill him.”

      
Suddenly Carrie understood. “You want him to marry that woman, the one with green eyes.” Her heart felt leaden in her breast.

      
“She is of mixed blood, like him. She would be a good wife. You cannot be. As much freedom as the white men allow their women, I know they do not permit them two husbands.” His humor was gentle, tinged with sadness for her.

      
Swallowing a lump in her throat, thinking of Noah and the bleak existence stretching before her, Carrie smiled weakly. “No, they do not. I know what you say is true about Hawk going back to the Nations. But I'm not so sure he can totally forget his white half. He lived much of his life in that world, too. Can he be all Cheyenne?”

      
The old man's face became shuttered as he battled with her logic. He had always known the division in his grandson's heart was wide and deep. “The only way to live is to choose one or the other, I think. His father will not give him the land he holds. It goes to your children.”

      
Carrie hung her head, saddened but unable to deny his statement. “I do not wish it so.”

      
His face softened. “Your heart is good. I know this. But what He Who Walks in Sun will do, we cannot change. Hawk will go south and search for death unless he chooses the way of the People. Here he will have a place.”

      
“But what can I do? I do not hold him. We—we are not…”

      
“Lovers,” he supplied softly, nodding. “I did not think so—yet.”

      
Her head jerked up at that last word and her cheeks flamed. A heated denial came to her lips, then died. Could she be sure it would never happen? Did she wish that it would never happen?

      
“Only you know what you must do. Think about it. You will find a way to free him.” With that he rose and was gone before she could speak again.

      
Carrie sat in mute misery for an undetermined amount of time, probably not long, but she was uncertain, so lost was she in her own and Hawk's pain.

      
Hawk entered the lodge. Looking at her pensive expression, he wondered what his grandfather had discussed with her. The old man seemed well satisfied with her and liked her because of the care she had given Bright Leaf. Iron Heart was a fair man. Being married to Noah Sinclair was no black mark against Carrie.

      
“If we're going to get back by dark, we'd better ride, Carrie,” he said softly.

      
She whirled and gazed up at him like a startled fawn, her eyes huge and liquid. “Ooh! I didn't hear you come in! I guess I never do,” she finished ruefully. Still preoccupied, she rose and followed him outside, where Iron Heart stood by their horses.

      
“Have a safe journey, Hunting Hawk. My heart is gladdened that the wooden road will not come to this place. The People thank you for this.” Then he turned those searching black eyes toward Carrie when she had mounted up. “Farewell, Carrie Sinclair. Remember what we spoke of, and I will be grateful.”

      
“I will remember,” she said softly, promising nothing. Her green eyes held his black ones for a long, parting moment, each of them trying to read the other's thoughts, perhaps the future as well.

      
Hawk watched the exchange silently. If his grandfather had wanted him to know what he told Carrie, he would have said something. Perhaps she would tell him.

      
They rode in silence for a while after leaving the village. It was as if they were once again uneasy with one another, now that the unknowing chaperonage of Bright Leaf was left behind.

      
Hawk had explained to Iron Heart about the railroad route change to the north. It only delayed the inevitable. They both understood that, but at least now there was a reprieve.