Savage Hero (13 page)

“Glue?” Mary Beth asked. “Where do you get your glue?”

“Glue is made by boiling buffalo gristle or various other parts of the buffalo,” he explained.

“And the arrows,” Mary Beth said. “Tell me about them.”

“The arrows I am making now are used for hunting standing or motionless animals,” Brave Wolf said, trying hard to keep Mary Beth's mind occupied. Although she had said that she had not given up on finding her son, he knew that doubt was creeping into her heart.

Every once in a while she would lower her eyes, and he knew it was because she did not want him to see her pain. He knew that she was trying hard to be courageous, but that no matter how hard she tried, her hope was weakening.

“I am making a greasewood shaft for this arrow,” he continued. “Do you see its hardened tip?”

Mary Beth nodded, trying to concentrate on his words so she would not think about David. But as each moment passed with no good word about her son, she felt more and more hopeless.

“Is this shaft more deadly than others?” she asked.

She had seen him make many types of shafts and
had learned that there were arrows with small points, so-called “bird points,” and now arrows with no points at all.

He held the arrow out for Mary Beth to examine more closely. “All are deadly,” he said. “Some bowmen can send such arrows clear through animals, including the big buffalo.”

He laid the arrow aside and paused in his chore for a moment. “For moving animals, especially buffalo chased on horseback, arrows with standard-sized barbed heads are used,” he said. “A hunter can send an arrow about six to eight inches into the soft flank just behind the ribs, and as the buffalo continues to run, the arrow cuts deeper and deeper into its vital organs. Before long the animal stops and soon dies.”

He lifted another arrow and ran his fingers along the smooth finish of the shaft. “In warfare, the largest barbed points are preferred because of their incapacitating effects,” he explained. “When a warrior is hit with such an arrow, it is less painful to extricate by pushing it through than by trying to pull it back out. A small-pointed arrow might go clear through a man and not mortally wound him if no vital organs or bones are hit.”

He had not realized how telling her such details was affecting Mary Beth until he heard her gasp and saw how pale she had become. She rose quickly to her feet and turned her back to him.

He quickly laid the arrow aside and went to her, drawing her into his arms and turning her to face
him. “Going into such detail about what arrows can do was wrong,” he said huskily.

He lifted her chin with a finger so that their eyes met. “I apologize.”

“
I
apologize for proving over and over how weak I am,” she murmured. “It is so much unlike me. I . . . I . . . have always been proud of my strength. But you have seen me shed tears too often, and now today I let you see that hearing such details made me feel ill. How could you want someone like me as your wife? I'm afraid I would embarrass you.”

“You prove over and over again that you are a woman with deep feelings,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with that. And embarrass me? Never will you do that. I will be so proud to call you wife.”

“Truly?” Mary Beth asked, her heart warmed by those words.

“Truly,” he said. He was just lowering his lips to hers when the sound of horses arriving at the village drew them quickly apart.

Mary Beth's eyes grew anxiously wide. “The warriors,” she said, her voice breaking. “They . . . they . . . have returned!”

She wheeled around and ran from the tepee just as the warriors came into view at the far end of the village.

Her heart immediately sank when she saw no child with them. No David.

Blinded by tears, she turned and ran in the opposite
direction, then felt strong arms stopping her.

She flung herself into Brave Wolf's embrace. She clung to him.

“Again I am crying,” she sobbed. “Again I am given cause to cry. Oh, my sweet David. They didn't find him.”

“That does not mean the worst,” Brave Wolf said. “Remember, my woman, never give up hope.”

He continued to hold her as the warriors came and dismounted behind him. One approached him.

“The search was unsuccessful,” the warrior said. “There is no trace of the child, or those who took him.”

Brave Wolf nodded.

The warrior walked away, along with the rest, leaving Brave Wolf and Mary Beth alone.

Brave Wolf placed an arm around her waist and gently led her to his lodge, then helped her down to the pelts.

Mary Beth wiped her eyes.

“There is only one thing left for me to do,” she said stiffly as Brave Wolf sat down beside her.

“And what is that?” he asked.

“I have thought long and hard about what I would do if the warriors returned without David,” she said, her voice drawn. “I concluded that if they did not find my son, perhaps the cavalry
can
.”

She saw how that made Brave Wolf's jaw tighten. She knew he did not want her to believe that the soldiers could succeed when his warriors had not.

She moved to her knees before him. She touched him gently on the cheek. “Please understand why I must do this,” she murmured. “I cannot just give up on David without trying every means to find him. I can go on to Fort Henry, where the wagon train was headed before the ambush. I can explain to the colonel there what happened, and how I have been with you . . . how you rescued me from the renegades, and that I did not come immediately to the fort because I thought your warriors would have a better chance of finding David than the cavalry. But now? I must give them a chance. I have no other choice.”

“This is what you truly feel you should do?” Brave Wolf asked.

“Yes,” Mary Beth said, swallowing hard. She lowered her hand to her side. “Please understand?”

“I do, but I strongly urge you to go to another fort—Fort Hope,” Brave Wolf said. “The colonel there is my friend. Let him do what can be done to find your son. The colonel at Fort Henry is my enemy.”

“Please understand why I feel that I must go to Fort Henry,” Mary Beth said. “That is where survivors of my wagon train would have gone, if there are survivors, because that fort was the wagon train's destination.”

“Then go where you must,” Brave Wolf said tightly. “But I need to know that you will come back to me.”

He twined his arms around her waist and drew her next to him. Their eyes met and held.

“You were born to be my wife,” he said huskily. “I was born to be your husband. It is meant for us to grow old together . . . to have children of our own.”

“How could you think that I would not want the same as you?” she murmured. “I love you so much, Brave Wolf. I love you more than I ever knew was possible to love a man.”

“As do I love you,” he said, brushing soft kisses across her lips.

Then he held her face between his hands. “My woman, will you stay just one more night with me and my people?” he asked thickly. “Will you stay and be a part of a special celebration?”

“What sort of celebration?” Mary Beth asked, her eyes widening.

“It is a ceremony enjoyed by my people,” Brave Wolf said. “It is the time of the Bear Song Dance, held in the autumn when the ripe berries cause the bears to dance in the mountains. The women have gathered chokeberries to provide food for the dance.”

“I helped prepare food with chokeberries,” Mary Beth said softly.

“What was prepared was made specifically for tonight's celebration,” Brave Wolf said, smiling at her. “Will you stay? I feel it is important that you experience these special moments with me and my people so that once you are away from me, you will not forget me.”

“I could never, ever forget you,” she said, snuggling
close in his arms. “You know that I will return to you. I do want to marry you.”

“But still . . . will you stay one more night with me?” he persisted. “It is too close to dusk for you to leave. It is best to travel to Fort Henry in the daylight. A man with red skin arriving at a fort at night is taking a big risk, especially in the company of a white woman. The pony soldiers might think the wrong thing.”

She gazed up at him and nodded. “Yes, I guess they would,” she murmured. She smiled. “So, yes, I will stay.”

He held her close. His lips lowered to hers.

Mary Beth did not turn away from him this time. Their lips met in a sweet, tremulous kiss.

Mary Beth regretted now having ever denied herself the pleasure that came with his kiss and the warm sweetness of his arms. In his kiss and embrace, everything else disappeared from her mind!

There was only the two of them, their love breaking through all the barriers that had kept them apart.

When they stepped away from each other, Brave Wolf gently touched her cheek. “My body aches for more than a kiss,” he said huskily.

“Mine too,” Mary Beth said in a voice that did not sound like her own. “Tonight, Brave Wolf. After the celebration . . . tonight . . . ?”

He swept her into his arms again and kissed her. Their bodies strained hungrily together.

“Ah, yes, tonight . . .” he whispered against her parted lips.

Things are always at their
best in their beginning.

—Pascal

Late swallows swooped down through the lilac night. The sun was already being replaced in the sky by a bright full moon as the first stars pricked the darkening night.

A huge, roaring fire crackled and roared in the center of the Crow village where the entire Whistling Water Clan had gathered in a wide circle around a pole. A bearskin with red-painted claws was tied to the eastern side of the pole.

Mary Beth sat amid the women on one side of the circle, her thoughts on this afternoon's food preparation. She had enjoyed being a part of the group getting ready for the exciting night. She had
gladly volunteered to prepare the corn, which even now gave off its wondrous scent from the great copper pots at the edges of the fire.

She had shucked a lot of corn in her day. She suddenly missed her garden in Kentucky, where the corn would be ready to be harvested. She had known that she wouldn't be home in time, so she had given her friend Maddie permission to take the corn and can it for her own family.

Maddie had said that when Mary Beth and David returned home, some of those home-canned jars of corn would be waiting to see them through the long Kentucky winter.

When she arrived home, the jars would already be in Mary Beth's fruit cellar along with other goodies that she knew Maddie would prepare for her. There would be canned green beans, pickles made of her cucumbers, stewed tomatoes as well as tomato juice, and even grape jam made from the luscious grapes that grew on an arbor behind her house.

It seemed so long ago now, that discussion of canning and taking care of Mary Beth's precious cat, who would by now have had a new litter of kittens that she would never hold and cuddle in her arms.

There had been tremendous change in Mary Beth's life, much of it sad. But one sweet thing had come with all this change . . . her feelings for Brave Wolf and his for her.

And now there was someone else sweet in her life. She smiled as she looked at the lovely woman
who sat beside her. It was Dancing Butterfly, the young and vivacious maiden who had shunned Mary Beth when she'd brought food into her chief's lodge that day.

But as Mary Beth had diligently worked with the women most of this afternoon, preparing the various kinds of food for the Bear Song Dance celebration, her eagerness to help had drawn the admiration of many of the women, among them Dancing Butterfly.

Dancing Butterfly had sat beside Mary Beth, first offering to show her how to roll the special balls of pemmican so that the meat and fruit were more equally distributed in the ball. Mary Beth's answering smile and thank you had opened up a brand new world between two women who seemed destined to be special friends.

Mary Beth didn't even feel awkward sitting among the Crow people without Brave Wolf at her side. Strangely enough, she felt as though she actually belonged there.

She anxiously awaited the beginning of the dance, for Brave Wolf had told her that he, his people's chief, would have a role in it.

“Is it not a perfect night for dancing?” Dancing Butterfly asked as she clasped her hands together on her lap. “Mary Beth, look at the moon. The First Maker has given its silver sand to us tonight instead of clouds for our celebration.”

“It is so very lovely,” Mary Beth said as she turned her eyes up to the moon. She could not help wondering if her son might be gazing up at
that same moon this very moment. She had held him on her lap many nights as they sat on their swing on the front porch, looking up at the moon.

As they had swung slowly back and forth, she had told him stories. She could even now hear his giggle.

“Mary Beth, the moon does many things for us,” Dancing Butterfly said, drawing her away from thoughts of a son she missed with every fiber of her being. “It not only gives us light at night, but also shows children how to dream.”

“Yes, to dream,” Mary Beth said, swallowing hard as she again thought of her David and what sort of dreams he might be having at night. She hoped they weren't nightmares. She hoped he was alive to dream.

When Mary Beth noticed how Dancing Butterfly's voice trailed off to whisper, she thought the other woman must be responding to her distraction. She had not been all that attentive to what Dancing Butterfly was saying to her.

She turned to apologize, then realized she had not been the cause of Dancing Butterfly's sudden silence. The other woman was staring at Brave Wolf's mother's tepee. Mary Beth questioned Dancing Butterfly with her eyes.

“I wish Night Horse could sit among our people beneath tonight's moon,” Dancing Butterfly blurted out. “I wish he could enjoy tonight's festivities as much as you and I will enjoy them.”