Song Of The Warrior (10 page)

The old man nodded, looked at her over the tops of his spectacles. “Guess that will end your going out to see those little heathens every day, it'll be too far.” He looked positively delighted. “Maybe you can replace the white schoolmaster here in the settlement or maybe just get married.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She didn't want him to see her distress. “It seemed to me almost as if God had sent me to help these children and now I won't be able to do so.”

Reverend Harlow frowned and coughed. “Well, there's other children, white children.” He shrugged as if to dismiss the topic. “I've got to go out early this evening for a while.”

“Oh, but you're ill,” Willow protested, “you can't—”

“There's no one else to christen the general store owner's new baby, and he's one of the most substantial citizens in town.”

She looked at him. “Are you saying you wouldn't bother if he weren't rich?”

“Cast your bread upon the waters, as the Good Book says. It's the prominent citizens who build fine church buildings, help poor pastors get better salaries.”

“That's despicable,” Willow said.

“No, my dear, it's reality.” The old man peered at her over the tops of his spectacles. “You're a fine one to play holier than thou, after I scrimped and bullied and begged to make sure your tuition to the finest school in Boston was paid for.”

Stung by his biting criticism, Willow bent her head. “You're right; I'm sorry. If you don't mind, I think I'll lie down awhile.”

He nodded dismissal. “You're really a white girl in your heart, anyway, Willow; too fragile and delicate to keep trudging out to that camp all the time like some squaw.”

She didn't answer as she fled to her room. The Nez Perce were being sent to that far reservation; had Raven known? She remembered Bear's troubled face. He knew, she realized suddenly, he had known this morning, but no one had bothered to tell irresponsible Raven; perhaps he might get drunk and create trouble, maybe blab to the whites if the Nez Perce made any plans. She remembered him holding the book, running his fingers over its pages. In some ways, Raven was like the irresponsible, n'eer-do-well Sydney Carton in
A Tale of Two Cities.

Back at the camp, Raven was as upset as Bear had known he would be. “There was a gathering of warriors and no one told me?”

“You weren't here,” Bear soothed, “you had gone to get the teacher; otherwise, you would have been sitting there in council next to me.”

“No one would know or care if I were there; no one pays any attention to me.” Raven began to pace their lodge. “What was decided?”

Bear shrugged. “General Howard has shown us the rifle, not the hand of friendship. We must meet the deadline, despite everything.”

Raven whirled on him. “Didn't anyone tell him we cannot gather up the livestock and cross raging rivers so soon?”

“We have told him,” Bear said with infinite patience. The young, he thought, expect too much and their tempers run impatient and hot.

“I would show the soldier boys the rifle, given the chance!” Raven gestured with his closed fist.

Bear only nodded, weary of this discussion. He would do as his chief asked him, no matter that it meant swallowing his pride. “Joseph thinks first of the old ones and children.”

“The children.” Raven paused. “What will happen with the teaching when we go?”

“It will end. It is too far, you know that. Perhaps someday, another teacher will try to help the children.”

Raven's handsome face twisted with anguish. “She was teaching me to read.”

Bear's heart was touched. “Is this so important to you, then?”

Raven nodded. “At first, I only meant to catch her attention, then the magic caught me. She has a book with a wonderful legend. She says she may give me the book when I have learned more; when I have earned it.”

“I am truly sorry, Rave,.” Bear sighed. He was sad, deep in his heart sad, and it surprised him. He hadn't realized in only a few short days how he had grown accustomed to Willow's delicate face and bright green eyes, her laughter. He saw in his mind the way she had looked when he had swung her up in his big arms, looking up at him with lips moist and half parted. He remembered now the warmth of her body against his as she rode the horse in front of him, the softness of her body, the scent of her warm skin, the shiny blackness of her hair and how he had had to fight a terrible urge to kiss the nape of her neck.

“I-I took the book from her satchel today.” He looked shamefaced as he held it up.

Bear was aghast. “Like a common white thief? Where is your honor?”

“I will give it back,” Raven said defensively. “I only wanted to examine its magic. Besides, that means she will have to come to the new reservation to get it back.”

Bear sighed loudly. In spite of everything, Raven was still so immature. “You can't expect her to come many miles out to the smaller reservation; the reverend wouldn't let her anyway.”

“If she were married, he couldn't stop her.”

“What?” Bear started out of his thoughts.

“I want her; I want Willow for my woman.”

Abruptly, Bear felt as if he'd been stabbed deep in the heart. Raven and Willow. He had not realized his brother was that deeply attracted to the girl. “Does she feel the same about you?”

“I think she does; the way she looks at me the way she smiles and makes conversation. Isn't that what a girl does who is attracted to a man?”

Bear shrugged. “I'm not sure I know.” Of course Willow would be attracted to Raven. His brother was young, not much older than Willow. She probably thought of Bear as an old man since he was past thirty. Raven was handsome, so she might be attracted to him. Bear clapped him on the shoulder. “I am glad for you,” he said gravely, “and our mother would be glad that you will be happy. Still, I don't know how—”

“I will marry her and take her with me if I have to steal her.”

“You can't do that, the army will come after you; the parson will be in a fury! He hopes to marry her to some white man.”

“But if she goes willingly and I suspect she will, they can do nothing, can they?”

“No.” He turned and looked away. Raven had never sounded so happy. So this was what it was like to have a woman love you in return. In his mind, in his dreams, Bear had held Willow close and kissed her, now perhaps his handsome brother would be the one to take her virginity, put his son in her belly. Bear winced at the image of his brother making love to the woman and realized abruptly that he cared for her himself, had since the first moment he had seen her getting off that stagecoach, all slender and sturdy, her hair black as a crow's wing. “Have you asked her yet?” In his mind, he saw Raven taking off her delicate doeskin wedding shift in the firelight of the lodge.

“No, but I'm sure she feels the same way, just the way she looks at me. I-I don't know the words to say to her.”

Bear tried to laugh. “I am afraid I'm no help there, little brother, I've never asked a woman, either.”

“Many girls have wanted you to ask them; they know what a brave warrior you are and that there would always be much meat in your tipi because you are also one of the best hunters.”

“I have never yet met a girl who takes my heart enough that I would want her for my own,” he answered. He lied, he knew, he had met such a girl, but she and his brother were in love. “We have no time for this talk now.” He started to leave the lodge, wanting to go off to round up his horses for the move that would surely be leaving tomorrow or the next day whenever Joseph returned. If he were riding hard, he wouldn't have to think about Willow.

“I intend to take her with me if she's willing.” Raven caught his arm.

“You are a stubborn one,” Bear conceded. “What is it you want of me?”

Raven hesitated. “You speak well and are a respected warrior, even among the whites.”

“So?”

“It is proper among all tribes to send an envoy to the girl.”

A dread began to build in Bear and he wanted to shout at his brother not to say it, but it was too late.

“I-I want you to speak for me,” Raven pleaded. “Will you go to Willow and ask her if she will be my woman?”

Bear felt as if he had been struck hard across the chest with a stout
kopluts.
Of course it was only natural that Raven would desire Willow and that she would love him in return. After all, they were about the same age; both young and good-looking.

Raven looked at him, his expression anxious. “Brother, is something wrong?”

“Oh? Nothing; I-I just had no idea you were that serious about her.”

Raven laughed sheepishly. “I realize you don't like her and that you'll try to talk me out of it. I'll also admit that at first, it was just the novelty of having such a beautiful, different girl here; one who is so educated, but she has spirit. I think there's more to her than you understand.”

Bear had not realized how much he had been attracted to the girl himself and had been fighting it with everything that was in him. “Am I to suppose that the feeling is mutual?”

“I think so.” Raven nodded. “The way she looks at me; the way I feel when she smiles at me, as if she's speaking to my heart.”

Bear understood that feeling well, even though he had been denying it from the first time he had seen Willow. He didn't say anything.

Raven rushed on. “Of course, she smiles at the children that same way, but yes, I'm certain she is interested in sharing my life.”

“And well she should be,” Bear said loyally. “After all, you're handsome and smart.”

In his mind, he saw Willow in his brother's arms; Raven kissing her, holding her.

“And someday,” Raven said, “I will surely win some war honors like you.”

“I'm certain of it.” Bear wanted to end this conversation. “None of the men in our family was ever wounded in the back.” It was a point of honor among warriors that a brave man never turned his back on the enemy in battle to run away.

Raven frowned and Bear instantly regretted his choice of words, remembering how Raven had fled from the grizzly. “Look,” he said hurriedly, “why don't you think it over a few months and if you feel the same way about her then—”

“No, I don't want to wait,” Raven protested.

He tried to brush the whole discussion aside. “We have many things to do before Joseph returns; we must help get the tribe ready to move.”

“I want to take Willow with me,” Raven said. “If she truly cares about me, she will want to go with us to the new reservation, no matter what the old preacher says.”

“Then ride after her and ask her.” Bear could put his own feelings aside. He wanted his brother to be happy.

“I have no fine horses to offer and I will make a
mimillu
of myself, I know, when I ask.”

“I have fine horses taken in raids against our enemies, I will give you all you need.” It was ironic, maybe, that his horses provide the bride gift for the girl Bear would like to have for his own, but after all, he had to be realistic. A beautiful, spirited girl like Takseen would not want an older, scarred warrior like himself.

Raven hesitated. “I-I'm not sure what to say to her; I fear making a fool of myself. Would you go ask her for me?”

“Me?” Bear touched his chest in surprise. “I know little of women and she hates me besides.”

“But it is difficult for a warrior to praise himself; a relative can do it while the brave waits modestly for an answer.”

It was the ultimate pain, to face the girl he loved and ask her to accept another man. He could not do it. He would not do it.

In the silence, Raven waited. “Bear?”

“I-I don't want to.” He shook his head.

“Please.” His younger brother caught his arm, pleading, “I know you two don't like each other, but you could say nice things about me and find out her feelings. I would die of humiliation should I ask myself and she turn me down.”

Bear didn't answer. He had never said no to his brother before and he could only pray to the gods that Raven never guessed how Bear felt about Willow himself.

“Remember you promised our mother you would look for me.” Raven was as petulant as any sulky youth.

It was not fair of him to call up that solemn pledge, Bear thought with anger. Promises and honor meant more to him than they did to Raven. “All right; I do not want to do this thing, but if it will make you happy, I will do my best in your behalf.”

Raven smiled triumphantly.

Bear smiled back, although he had to force the corners of his mouth to turn up. Yes, he could manage to do this thing. Neither of these two handsome young lovers would even guess about Bear's own foolish fantasies in which Willow belonged to him and he held her close and kissed her lips. Perhaps they would name one of their children for their doting uncle and no one would ever know why Bear did not marry. He had a warrior's heart; meant to be given to only one woman, and if he could not have her, he would have no other.

Raven looked nervous, but excited. “In several hours, brother, I'll expect that you'll be returning with good news.”

Good news for Raven, heartbreaking news for Bear. “Don't expect too much,” Bear cautioned, “it might take some doing to convince the reverend that he wants an Indian husband for his ward.”

“If anyone can, you will,” Raven said. “All the white men respect you.”

There was no way out of this then without admitting that Bear himself cared about the girl. Raven would be shocked that Bear had ever had such a foolish fantasy and no doubt the girl would laugh if she ever found out. Very slowly, Bear saddled his fine Appaloosa, put on his best beaded buckskins and rode toward the settlement in the coming dusk. His heart felt like a lump of lead in his chest, but he would do this thing for the happiness of his brother.

 

 

Willow sat before her bedroom mirror in her dressing gown. She had just bathed and washed her hair. Now she sat brushing it, thinking about studying her teaching plans for a couple of hours before bedtime. After supper, Reverend Harlow had gone off to christen that baby and of course, he said, there would be refreshments and socializing afterward. He could not miss an opportunity like that to get more donations for the stained-glass window for the elegant church he hoped to build soon.

Willow had begged off, pleading weariness and studying her lessons. Since the whole settlement seemed to hold the opinion that educating the ignorant savages was a noble undertaking, the reverend said he thought everyone would understand.

Now she sat with her long hair cascading over her shoulders as she brushed it. The lacy flowered dressing gown was one of the few luxuries she owned.

There was a knock at the front door.

Now who could that be? she wondered. Certainly everyone in town was at the christening. Cautiously, Willow went to the window and peeked out. In the moonlight, she saw Bear's big form.

She gritted her teeth, thinking that maybe she wouldn't answer the door. If he had come to berate her, tell her not to come to the camp again, she didn't intend to listen.

He knocked again.

He was as stubborn as she was herself; no doubt he had seen her lamp from outside. If she didn't answer, he'd keep banging until the reverend returned. She pictured a scene between those two. Willow wanted Bear to be gone before there was trouble, which there would be when her guardian came home.

She opened the door. “What is it you want?”

He looked at her as if he had never really seen her before and she realized that in her haste, she still wore something not suited to greeting guests.

“I thought polite white ladies were taught better manners,” he scolded gently. “Even among savages, it is not polite to say ‘what is it you want?' in such a rude tone as if the guest should go away.”

She felt her face sting at the rebuke from this simple warrior. “You are correct, it was very bad manners on my part; I just wasn't expecting you. Is something wrong out at the camp?”

He was still staring at her in a way that made her feel warm all over. “No.” He shook his head. “I wish to speak with both you and your guardian.”

“Reverend Harlow is gone and won't be back for a while. Would you care to wait?” She was mystified and wondered what business Bear had here? Certainly his face was grave enough for there to be real trouble.

“Perhaps I should leave and come another time.” He half turned away as if undecided. “It is not proper for me to wait with you alone—”

“Oh, come in.” She stepped aside, gestured him inside. “If it's an emergency, I could send for him—”

“That won't be necessary.” He walked past her and she closed the door.

Well, fine, she thought, slightly out of sorts as they went into the parlor. He needed a minister because someone was ill or dying, but not bad enough to interrupt Harlow. That meant the two of them would have to wait in awkward silence until her guardian returned, and in the meantime, she wouldn't be able to work on her lessons and go on to bed.

He stood in the middle of the flowered carpet and looked around at the dark Victorian furnishings. The light on the oil lamp cast shadows on his rugged face. Why had she never realized that in the strengths of those virile features, in the dark eyes lay something more than mere good looks? The thought was disconcerting.

She stared at him, amazed as always at how tall and strong he was. She was tall for a woman, but the top of her head did not reach his shoulder. She realized suddenly she must look a fool, standing here close to him, looking up at him as if she had never seen him before. “Won't you sit down?”

“I-I don't know. How long do you think the reverend will be?”

“I don't know, several hours, maybe.”

“In that case, perhaps I shouldn't stay. I'll come back tomorrow.” He started past her toward the door and she reached out and caught his arm.

“It's all right, you can wait for him.” She looked up at him, so close, she felt abruptly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the man and the power in that muscular arm. In her mind, she saw him picking up the burly scout, Tanner, and shaking him, almost breaking his back across Bear's knee. Now she remembered the way his hand had closed over hers; remembered how he had swung her up in his arms like a doll and put her on his horse before him.

He didn't move, he appeared almost paralyzed. He took a deep breath. “Your hair smells nice,” he blurted and then looked as if he feared she would laugh.

She wished suddenly that he would reach out and tangle his fingers in it, pull her closer. Her own thoughts shocked her. “Thank you, I-I just washed it.”

Now she felt like a fool. The way he was staring down at her, she suddenly remembered that he could see the swell of her breasts in the dressing gown and perhaps even the shape of her breasts and rounded hips through the thin fabric. Yet she could not force herself to move away. “What is it you come to speak to the reverend about? If it's important, I could send a message—”

“No, it's not important; I mean, it can wait until he returns.” She had never seen fear before on this warrior's face; she suspected it was not an emotion he knew well. “I am not good at this; you will think me a fool.”

Could he possibly be going to ask for her in marriage? Was she insane? She and this man had not had a civil word since they had met, but still, she wasn't sure....

He tried to pull away from the hand on his arm. “You must already think me a fool.”

“No.” She didn't know what she thought, she was only aware of the hard muscle of his arm under her fingertips, the dark tumult of his eyes, the width of his shoulders. She looked up into his eyes, not certain about anything anymore, a little shaken and more than a little shocked.

He seemed to steel himself. “I have come to make an offer of marriage.” The words rushed out as if he had said them over and over before arriving.

“Marriage?”

He nodded, looking down at her.

Would she? Did she? Without even thinking, she ran the tip of her tongue over her half-opened lips. In her mind, Bear picked her up and carried her into a ritual lodge, began to take off the fine beaded shift she would wear.

“He will make a fine husband,” Bear blurted, not looking into her eyes as he pulled away from her. “Granted, he does not have war honors yet, but they will come. He-he needs a woman who loves him, who will give him the confidence a man needs. You would not be sorry to be his wife and carry his sons.”

It took a long moment for his words to dawn. “You are asking for me in marriage to someone else?”

His face furrowed in puzzlement. “Of course. My brother, Raven, is in love with you and sends me as his envoy to speak his piece.”

Raven; handsome, immature Raven. Why did she feel so suddenly devastated?

“Will you say yes?” He looked down at her again, and abruptly, she saw the pain in his eyes, knew the truth.

She didn't mean to say anything, but she blurted it out without thinking; “Why don't you speak for yourself, John?”

“What?” His expression turned baffled and she felt the blood rush to her face.

“It-it's a famous legend,” she gulped. “A man sends his friend to ask for the hand of a girl he wants, a girl he himself is in love with, and when he asks, that's what she said to him.”

Realization came to his eyes and he closed them, then opened them again. “I-I wouldn't be such a fool; I know you would never want me. I'm not as handsome as Raven, I'm so much older than you, I—”

She didn't mean to do it, but the humiliation in his voice, even though his love for her was there to read in his dark, tortured eyes made her react in a heartbeat. Willow slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

For an instant, she felt him stiffen in disbelief and she couldn't believe it herself; she who had never kissed a man before had thrown herself against Bear in an exuberant manner, pressing herself against him, holding him close; kissing him in a way that she had always dreamed her first kiss would be. His lips were warm against hers and he smelled of wind and sun.