Dark Warrior: To Tame a Wild Hawk (Dark Cloth) (25 page)

After the evening’s supper, they were finally free to go their tipi. Hawk grabbed Mandy and pushed her through the flap, closing it behind them.

“There is nowhere you can hide from me.” He stepped up close to her while she looked wildly around for a means of escape. “You married me for better or for worse. You may be, even now, carrying my child.”

Mandy’s mouth dropped open in shock. Her eyes were wide as she circled the fire, out of his reach. “I want you out.” She indicated the door.

“Not on your life, darl’n.” His eyes were slits. “Till death do us part. Remember?”

At this, she laughed. The sound of it was brittle. “Hah! Not here.” She grabbed his saddle bag and roll, and opening the flap, she tossed them out before he could stop her.

“Damnation!” he thundered. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” His eyes narrowed on her. “Yes, I think you do.” He stepped out and picked up the bags, ignoring the snickers when he stepped back inside.

Mandy swallowed. “You can’t do that.”

“I just did.”

She dove toward the door, but his arm snaked around her waist, bringing her to an abrupt halt. Deftly he drew her down to the mat. He kissed her while she punched him. He kissed her until she brazenly kissed him back. He kissed her until she begged for more. And then, he made love to her.

That night he never let her go.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

W
hen Mandy woke, Hawk was gone, and Two Stars was setting breakfast in front of the fire.

“Hihani washday
—good morning. Your man went hunting with the others.”

Mandy nodded and thanked her, then went out and bathed in the creek. When she returned, she ate with Two Stars.

“We will gather berries today,” the young woman told her.

Mandy nodded absentmindedly. She could sometimes hear the
Grandmothers
here. The
Grandmothers
had not been happy that she had come here, and neither had her teachers. They had not been happy she had tried to spurn Hawk. They had warned her that she must return in all possible haste. But first, they said she must marry in the true circle.

But Mandy couldn’t imagine that they still thought her future, her path, lay with him.

They gathered berries in the morning and sat beading all afternoon. It felt good to sit with her friends again. “I have missed you, my friend.”

“You will visit more often?”

Laughing, Mandy nodded. “I will visit more often.”

Late that afternoon, Hawk sat behind the tent and played a flute. Her Lakota friend giggled shyly. But the tempo sent Mandy’s heart thundering out of control. It was sweet and lulled her. She repeatedly had to tell her heart it was over—finished—he’d lied to her.

Two Stars laughed. “Your man weaves a love spell around you.”

Mandy made a face at her. “It doesn’t move my heart at all,” she denied.

The young woman leaned forward to put more buffalo chips on the fire. “I think you lie to yourself.”

Mandy scowled. Seeing it, Two Stars giggled.

A young Indian brave also played a love song. He told Hawk that she had thrown his belongings out of the tent. That she was free to marry someone else. Embarrassed, Mandy looked at Hawk for help, chewing on her lip.

“She was angry,” Hawk growled. “It comes from the whites to let emotions rule your head. She has not divorced me.” He looked at Mandy. “Have you?”

Mandy’s eyes flashed with anger. She was stuck. He knew it—and she knew it. If she didn’t go along with him, she would have this other brave laying claim to her.

Only Hawk’s reputation with the people saved her now. He was highly respected. If she caused any more waves, she would pay the price. Reluctantly, she relented. “It is as he has said; I lost my temper last night. It is why the people call me
Eyes that Flash with Fire
.” She saw Hawk grin at this piece of news and made a face at him. “But I am deeply honored you would look at me favorably,” she told the brave.

Hawk scowled, and that made Mandy want to grin.

Mandy could see the young brave was disappointed. She lowered her eyes with the guilt she felt over starting this. She should have known it would lead to this. If she had been a captive, the first warrior who claimed her would have owned her, and Hawk would have had to fight to the death to have her. With her Lakota family, who were there to protect her, Mandy was free to choose her husband. As far as they were concerned, she had chosen Hawk. Still, she would have every brave who chose to court her coming over here if she disclaimed Hawk.

She didn’t want that.

She should do it, just to irritate him, but it would cause her much grief with the young braves. She couldn’t toy with them in such a manner. After all, she still was Hawk’s wife, no matter how she sliced the pie. In the white man’s eyes, she couldn’t just throw out his possessions and say
be gone.

She looked up now to find Hawk’s green eyes burning into hers. Involuntarily, she flinched. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who lied.”

“Didn’t you?” His eyes bore into hers a moment more, and then he was gone.

“Did I?” she muttered. She thought of the many times she had lied. The many times she made promises to him and broken them.

That didn’t give him the right to trick her.

She thought about what he’d said in the very beginning, not to ask what his part in this fight was, or he’d be gone. Technically, he had never lied.

“Don’t go feeling sorry for him,” she muttered. He’d left out the fact that he was McCandle’s son. She realized what he’d meant, just now, when he’d asked her if she had lied. She had married him, for better or for worse. The worse being that he was her most hated enemy’s son. She knew better than to think he loved his father—or his brother.

His brother.

She just couldn’t get over the simple fact Ashley was Hawk’s brother—even if it was only half-brother. How could two brothers be so different?

She stood, suddenly, in surprise. “Star Flower!” She raced through the village until she spotted Hawk, and then, as calmly as she could, she stood quietly and waited for him to notice her.

He came to her within seconds, which pleased her immensely.

“Star Flower?” she questioned, “Is she . . . ?”

Hawk closed his eyes and nodded.

“Oh my—that’s why she followed you out of the room.”

He waited.

“She’s in extreme danger, Hawk. Don’t you know that?”

“I know.” His jaw flexed. “But she wouldn’t listen—anymore than you will.”

That stung. Mandy turned and went back to her beading.

She fixed his dinner that evening, and they sat silently eating. They didn’t observe the Lakota tradition with the meal—of her serving and him eating. She had started to, but he indicated for her to sit, so she sat and ate.

Mandy lay down on the buffalo furs, toward the sides of the tipi. Her stomach was tied up in knots.

Would he make love to her again tonight? How long could she hold out in her anger? It wasn’t even anger anymore. And it wasn’t hurt. She was simply disillusioned. Her heart was reaching for him, and her reasons for holding out were fast crumbling.

He stood and held his hand out to her.

Trembling, she placed her smaller hand in his, and he gently pulled her to her feet. He placed his palm on her face. “I’m going to give you time to think.”

She nearly shook her head no.

“I won’t let you go,” he growled. “But I want you to be happy. You need time to think everything through.”

She looked up into his green eyes and swallowed. Watching him leave, she almost cried out in pain. She lay down and curled up in a ball.

Hawk entered the sweat lodge the next morning; he felt he needed this. He had to figure out what to do about Mandy, and he had to have a clear mind to do it. The sweat lodge was just the place to do that.

The sweat lodge cleansed both the body and mind. He breathed in deeply, knowing every detail of the sweat lodge reflected something. The dome stood for the universe. It was usually made of bent willow, which stood for birth and renewal—and it was covered with buffalo hides. A hole was dug into the center, where they placed hot stones. Dirt was strewn across as a sacred path, leading to the fire, symbolizing the sun where stones were heated.

Within the dark interior, the sweat lodge stood for the womb from which all were born.

Hawk sat naked upon pads of sweet-smelling sage with the other warriors. The hot stones were brought in, and they offered prayers and chanted. Water was sprinkled on the hot stones, filling the lodge with steam. A pipe was lit, and passed. Someone cried out
mitak oays’ in
—all my relations—a kinship to all creatures. And they did it all again—and again.

Early the next morning, the Crow raced down the hill. Their faces, bodies and horses were painted for war. They screamed their vengeance, and Mandy realized this was an aspect of the life of the Lakota she had never missed.

The Lakota warriors were caught unawares, many still sleeping. Shaking the sleep from their eyes, they grabbed their weapons and went out to meet their hated enemies. Women and children raced in every direction, screaming—wailing when they saw their loved ones struck down. Mandy picked up a rifle and shot first one Crow warrior, then another. She didn’t back down and didn’t flinch, until a bullet spun her around.

Hawk saw it, raced to pick her up and hauled her into the trees to where some of the women and children were hiding.

He had to get back out there. They were holding their own, but he had to help make sure it remained that way. He asked the women to take care of her and went back to fight, knowing he would die if anything happened to her.

When it was over, they stared at the destruction left behind by their enemy, their women crying for their lost loved ones. Once more, an enemy had wrought destruction upon their lives, and with the ever-present danger of the encroaching white man, they were finding little peace. They would mourn their dead, then leave this place.

They sent scouts out to find the buffalo. It was again time for a great hunt.

Hawk had other plans at the moment. He walked over and drew back his fist. The Crow they’d captured took the brunt of his temper in a brutal punch. Hawk felt the man’s nose break and only received a little relief for the terror he’d felt. He realized then that he’d let his emotions rule him—one of the few times in his life—and drew back sharply. He swore viciously and swung around, heading for Mandy.

When he located her, he was relieved to learn the bullet had only grazed her arm. The women had her bandaged up, and they were all working diligently to pull up camp.

They pulled down the tipis and loaded the horses. They would look for the buffalo.

Once there were thousands of them, roaming as far as the eye could see. But now, the buffalo hunters dropped hundreds of them at a time, and their numbers were dwindling. The people were going hungry.

Hawk rode out with some of the other warriors and scouted for signs of the buffalo. What they found turned his stomach. He was sickened by the sight of buffalo, dropped dead in a wide swath by buffalo hunters—sickened by the sight of the buffalo calves left behind. The buffalo hunters had killed the buffalo only for their hides and their tongues; the rest was left to rot. Enough meat was left to rot that it would have fed several tribes through the entire winter. There was anger and hatred in the warrior’s eyes, and Hawk knew they looked forward to a bloody war. One they could not win.

It made him sick.

There were tears in the eyes of the women, and Mandy was no exception. The beasts were beautiful, huge animals. How could anyone abide by such waste?

They rode along silently for several days, and when the buffalo were spotted, they set up the tipis and the celebration began. The drumbeats filled the air, the tempo of Mandy’s heart matching the rhythm. The bodies of the men glistened in the firelight. Their chanting and singing joined the throb of the drums.

They painted a silhouette of a speared buffalo on the grass and danced around it—because of its importance and strength, its spirit was praised before every hunt.

The warriors readied for the hunt, taking special care of their horses. The horse he chose for this hunt was treated with high regard. Even a mortally wounded bull could run a good distance before dropping.

Hawk wore only his breech-cloth and moccasins, with only a knife in his belt. He also carried a short bow and quiver of arrows. His horse had a leather thong around his neck in case Hawk fell from his horse and needed it to remount.

Once the deadly ride started, Hawk moved in behind a huge bull, using his knees to guide his horse. The sheer size of the animal was an impressive sight. A bull could weigh up to two thousand pounds. And he wasn’t to be messed with when angry. The bull thundered along with the others. Hawk aimed for a spot behind the bull’s last ribs, hoping to puncture the diaphragm and collapse the lungs.