Lakota Flower (9 page)

“You white-eye. Why you ride with Red Shield? No yell or I kill. You no fight, be quiet, obey, yes?”

Caroline nodded. He lifted his hand but pressed the blade to her neck in warning.

“Talk, white woman. Why you here?”

“I’m a captive of the Red Shields.”

“If that true, why you no bound? Why you walk free?”

“I had to … be excused, visit the bushes. Please don’t kill me. My brother is a solider, so you’ll be punished if you harm me. Release me and I’ll tell you what you want to know. I won’t scream or fight you.”

The warrior ignored her and yelled, “Wanbli!
U wo!”

Caroline realized her captor knew the warrior she was traveling with and had ordered him to come to their location. It did not take much intelligence and perception to realize he was an enemy and that she and War Eagle were in jeopardy, or perhaps only she was in peril. She watched her traveling companion step from behind a large tree and reveal he was already nearby. She listened to them speak, but could only grasp a word here and there.

“What do you want, Crow dog?” War Eagle scoffed as he glared at the foe who held Caroline captive and in danger and who glared back at him.

“I have your woman, son of Rising Bear. Throw down your knife or I will cut her throat and you can watch her bleed and die before I slay you. Yield and I will set her free to return to her people.”

“She is a lowly captive; she means nothing to me,” War Eagle bluffed. “You do not need to use her to challenge me. I will fight you. Come, I am ready to do battle with a coward who hides behind a woman.”

“You lie, Lakota dog. If she was a captive, she would be bound and injured. Must I cut her many times before you speak the truth? Throw me your knife or she dies.” War Eagle knew the Crow brave would slay Caroline if he refused. He had no choice but to do as ordered to save her life.

As War Eagle withdrew his knife from its sheath and tossed it to the ground between them, a shocked and frightened Caroline shouted, “No! Don’t give up your weapon! He’ll kill you!” Her blue gaze widened in rising terror as the man she loved took several steps backward, away from the discarded knife, his arms hanging by his sides in submission. It was apparent to her that he was endangering his life to save hers. Didn’t he realize his humiliation and sacrifice were for naught and their enemy would probably slay both of them now that he was disarmed?

The Crow warrior shouted for War Eagle to move farther away, which he did, slowly and without taking his gaze from his adversary.

Caroline wished she could understand what they were saying when the two men argued following her outburst. Since the enemy behind her knew English, he must have grasped what she had yelled to her companion, which foolishly exposed her concern and affection for him.

The challenger whose left hand was either painted or charcoaled ebony—the latter she guessed from the horrible taste on her lips—did not cover her mouth with it again, but he ordered her, “No speak!” as he shook her. Then, using his body, he urged her forward until they reached the discarded weapon, which he kicked backward with one foot, out of the Red Shield’s reach and temptation.

War Eagle reminded him, “Release her, for I gave you my weapon.”

“You spoke false. She is your woman. She tried to save you.”

“She is not my woman, Black Fist. She is only a captive.
I was taking her to the Fire Hearts Cheyenne camp to trade her to War Chief Badger.”

Black Fist pointed out, “You ride away from Badger’s camp. You lie.”

“The storm forced me to take another trail to his camp. A fire arrow struck a tree and it fell across the path and many rocks rolled down the hills and closed the opening between them. If you do not believe me, we will ride there and I will show you that the path cannot be used.”

“If you speak true, why did she seek to help her enemy live?”

“She called out to me because she fears your capture more than she fears me. She knows it is not the Red Shield way to harm women, even helpless enemy females. That is not true of your people. Do you break your word to me and dishonor yourself? Do you forget Crow have a truce and treaty with the whites and army? If you hurt or slay the sister of a bluecoat, it will call forth the soldiers’ wrath on your camp.”

“They will not know Black Fist killed her, for the dead do not talk.”

That boast told War Eagle that the man had lied and had no intention of letting either of them live, just as he had suspected. “I do not die fast or easy, Crow dog. I gave up my weapon to fight you with bare hands. I do not want her death to call forth soldiers on my people. I say Black Fist shames himself before the Great Spirit if he slays a lowly and weak female who is not my woman.”

He had a second knife concealed behind him in his belt, but he had to get closer to them to use it. First, he needed to get Caroline released from the man’s tight grip, and get her a short distance away. He tried not to think about how she had warned him and had revealed her good feelings for him once more. He had to save—

When Caroline felt the intruder’s grasp loosen and deduced he was distracted by his quarrel with War Eagle, she summoned the courage to use a defensive action her brother
had taught her long ago. She elbowed him in the stomach as hard as she could while she simultaneously stomped his foot with her laced ankle boot. Her gambit worked; the foe’s lungs let our a
whoosh
of air as his body jerked forward, wobbling on an injured foot, and released her in painful surprise. Without delay, she slammed her elbow into his jaw while he was doubled over and sent him stumbling backward before she darted toward her companion for protection. She almost collided with War Eagle before he agilely sidestepped her as he took swift advantage of his enemy’s briefly disabled condition by running forward to attack the man. As she stopped and whirled to observe the impending action, her gaze took in the knife stuck into his waistband, revealing he was not unarmed after all.

War Eagle reached his challenger before the man recovered fully. He lowered his left shoulder and rammed it with great force and strength into the Crow’s chest, causing the man to stagger backward to the ground, roll over and bound to his feet, then shake off his dazed state. When Black Fist yanked his knife from its sheath, War Eagle grinned as he retrieved his concealed weapon. He saw the Bird warrior’s eyes widen in surprise at that cunning deceit, then narrow and harden in hatred. “Come, Crow dog, fight me as man. You no longer have a woman to hide behind.”

“You are sly, son of Rising Bear, but I will defeat you and slay you. Before I slay your woman, I will take her upon the ground with much pain.”

“You speak of the woman who attacked you and freed herself,” War Eagle scoffed in ridicule. Just as he presumed and hoped, that insult angered his rival and provoked him to charge in a rage, as he knew a warrior could not think clearly and act wisely when agitated.

Caroline watched as the enemy ran at War Eagle with his blade held high and threatening. She saw her handsome captor dart aside at the last moment and slice across his opponent’s waist as he did so. Blood flowed down the enemy’s
exposed hip and leg, for the wound was deep and long. The two warriors began to move in a circular pattern as they studied each other, their dark gazes locked in mortal combat. When they halted and glared at each other, their feet were set apart, their knees were flexed and ready for fast movements, their arms hung loose before them, sharp knives held in tight grips. She knew they were assessing each other’s strengths and weaknesses, waiting for the perfect moment to strike a stunning or lethal blow. They began to dance in and out as they slashed at each other. It was War Eagle who seemed to be the superior warrior; his prowess was undeniable as he nipped at his competitor’s flesh and created new injuries while he sustained only one minor nick on his right forearm.

War Eagle knew he could not allow himself to be diverted or slowed for even a brief time; such an error could cost him his life, and Caroline’s. He knew a wounded and desperate foe was dangerous and unpredictable, but the excess pride and draining wounds of Black Fist would be his undoing. He did not play with his rival, as he wanted this battle settled soon and in his favor. If he did not make a mistake, he would be granted his wish, as the Crow was tiring fast from the many slashes and loss of blood. He could tell from the way Black Fist now moved that his muscles were getting taut and cramped.

Caroline did not move or do anything to break War Eagle’s concentration. She was positive he would win. In the flicker of an eye, War Eagle lunged at his antagonist and threw him to the ground. He leapt upon the man’s prone body, straddled it, and struggled to disarm him as his opponent squirmed for freedom. As they scuffled about on the grass and dirt, she turned her back as she saw War Eagle lift his left arm and start to bring down his knife toward the disabled man. She heard a thud, then took a deep breath and turned toward the scene where War Eagle now stood and gazed down at his dead challenger. She watched him lift his
head skyward and close his eyes for a minute. She assumed he was giving a prayer of gratitude to his Great Spirit.

War Eagle lowered his head and looked at Caroline, whose still-worried gaze was locked on him. She nodded as if to say she was happy he had won and was relieved the fight was over.

“Go to horse. I come soon,” he said.

Again she nodded, then left to go to where the horses were tethered to await him. He was unconcerned about her going alone, as he was convinced she would not try to flee, just as he was certain the Bird Warrior had been traveling alone. If not, the enemy’s friends would have pounced upon him by now to slay him in revenge. He gathered the Crow’s weapons, took a small scalp lock from the top front of the dead brave’s head, and retrieved the fallen man’s horse. Those were battle prizes he would take home for this coup, one that she had helped him obtain with her daring deed. Relieved he and Caroline were safe, he headed to join her at the horses.

Caroline looked up at him as he approached, leading an unfamiliar horse with weapons and other possessions secured on its back. He tethered the animal near their mounts and turned to face her and spoke.

“I go bathe, I return soon. You guard camp. Gift for coup. You brave, cunning. You help defeat Crow. Black Fist bad; he attack Lakota camps, raid, kill. He dead, spirit gone. This protect you from enemy.”

Caroline eyed him with astonishment as he handed her an unadorned belt with a beaded sheath dangling from it, no doubt taken from his defeated adversary. “You trust me to have a weapon?” she asked in amazement.

“War Eagle trust Caroline,” he replied,
but do not prove me wrong.

She watched him head down the riverbank until he was concealed from view by bushes and other lush vegetation. Yes, he needed a bath, for his flesh was splattered with his
foe’s blood and dirt from their fierce fight. But was he testing her by giving her a weapon? Was he seeking to learn if she would use it against him for revenge or to disable him for flight, or on herself to end her captive life, or for protection if she tried to escape? Did he think she hated him enough to take the first action? Despised her existence so much she would flee it in death? Or was he giving her a sly opportunity to escape to her brother and people? How could she guess what that befuddling warrior was thinking and doing? She could not. It had seemed as if he was surrendering to his challenger to save her life, but he had not been weaponless as she and the Crow were led to believe. Perhaps he simply had wanted to outsmart the enemy and obtain a chance to defeat him. He had her bewildered, probably right where he wanted her to be.
Well, my mystifying captor, when you return and find me patiently waiting here and I don’t attack you while en route home, either you will be pleased to discover that your faith in me is justified or you’ll be shocked and disappointed that I have obeyed you and thwarted your clever ploy. I wonder which will be the truth and if I can discern it from your reaction…

War Eagle thought it was wise to prevent a show of pleasure and relief when he saw Caroline sitting on a fallen tree and gazing at the lovely scenery nearby. He had hoped, prayed, and believed she would be obedient; and he was glad his judgment was accurate. He joined her and sat down beside her, noting she had tied Black Fist’s belt around her waist with the sheath grazing her right hip. If trouble appeared again, she would be able to defend herself. She deserved the gift, as part of the daring and victorious coup was hers. His family and friends back in camp would understand and accept his action and motive after they heard the thrilling story of the Crow’s defeat and how she had initiated it. They, too, would realize she had been willing to risk her life or an
injury to save him, marks of a friend and worthy of the honor he had bestowed on her. When she turned her head and looked at him, he grinned. “Face black from enemy hand. I wash. Come.” He grasped her hand, guided her to the river, and indicated she was to kneel beside him.

Caroline did not flinch as he used water and a piece of soft leather to remove the dark smudges from around her mouth.

He scowled and said, “No good; it stay.”

“It needs soap to take it off. I have some in my satchel, my pouch.”

“What
soap?”

“I’ll show you. Wait here while I get it.” She retrieved her bag, placed it on the ground, withdrew the dwindling bar, and rejoined him. She took the wet leather swatch from his hand, lathered it, and stared to scrub off the charcoal with some type of oily base, probably animal fat. She did not protest when he took over the task. His touch was gentle and he used only enough pressure to wash away the dark smears.

War Eagle smiled after he finished. “Gone.
Haipajaja,”
he said as he gestured to the soap in her hand, and grinned when she repeated the word correctly but with difficulty; then she also grinned in amusement. “Caroline hurt?” he asked as he lifted her arm and checked her elbow where a bruise was forming from the two hard blows she had given to his enemy.

“It’s fine, just a little sore,” she responded during the examination. When he looked confused, she clarified, “Hurt, little. Heal, soon. Thank you.
Pilamaya.”
She expressed her gratitude once more in his language. She noticed his right forearm was still bleeding. “You’re hurt. I’ll tend it.” When he did not protest by word or action, she tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her dress, then separated it into two pieces. She dipped one in the water and washed the wound. Though it was not long or deep, it continued to bleed at a slow and stubborn rate. She used the second piece to wind
around his arm, then secured it in place with ties ripped from its edge. “There, that will keep out dirt and keep away insects.”

“What
insects?”
he asked, recognizing the other English word.

Caroline glanced around and pointed at several different kinds in the air and on bushes, flowers, and the moist soil of the riverbanks. “Insects.”

He nodded understanding and translated, “Insects,
wabluska.”

“Wabluska,”
she echoed, and he nodded again.

War Eagle lifted his arm and looked at the neat bandage. He smiled and thanked her.

Caroline smiled in return, delighted they were talking and relaxing with each other. Could they, she wondered, become friends? Become more to each other? Was it foolish and futile to make that effort?

Their gazes remained locked following his last word and an exchange of smiles. It was as if they were communicating without speaking, relating their own feelings, and each searching for indications that the other felt the same way. It was as if they were entangled in a private domain and lacked the strength and willpower to escape those irresistible and strong emotional vines that sought to bind them together. For a while, all they did was look at each other with souldeep yearning, then, each leaned forward—drawn together by a potent force—until their mouths touched and they embraced.

They kissed with eagerness and joy, their lips performing a magical and arousing dance. Their bodies enflamed, tingled, and trembled with rising desire and blissful sensations. As if one being or with one purpose, they eased from the log to the grass with War Eagle lying half atop her, their mouths never parting or ceasing their passionate task. As one of his hands played in her blond hair and the other caressed her face and neck, Caroline’s hand wandered over his broad
shoulders and back beneath his vest. Each savored the other’s touch and their own rovings over warm flesh.