Wolf Shadow (16 page)

Sometimes the young men planned war parties during hunting
season. If the camp had to be moved before the hunters returned, a signpost,
usually fashioned from the shoulder blade of a buffalo, was set up for them and
pointed in the direction the tribe was moving. Hoof prints and a travois were
drawn on the blade, along with the name of the chief. This not only told the
hunters where the tribe was headed, but let other bands know where they had
gone.

At the first sign of winter, the People headed for the
wooded hills and hollows of the
Paha Sapa
where there was an abundance
of firewood. It was not winter now, but Chance was certain that, if any of the
People had survived the Crow attack, they would come here to lick their wounds.

As they climbed upward, Chance took the lead.
Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s favorite campsite was located in a timbered hollow
alongside a narrow winding river. As always, Chance felt a sense of homecoming
as he rode deeper into the heart of the Hills. This was where he had been born.
This was where he had come to mourn when his grandfather passed away. This was
where he had hoped to come to seek a vision.

He gazed up at the top of the hills. Was he too old? Was it
too late to follow that path, too late to seek out a vision to guide him? Had
he been away from the People too long, spent too much time living in the white
man’s world?

He was still lost in thought when they reached Cottonwood
Hollow. At first, Chance didn’t see anything to indicate the hollow was
occupied, and he feared that no one had survived or that, if they had, they had
gone somewhere else, but then a trio of horses emerged from behind a stand of
timber. Chance breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s
rangy gray stallion.

He urged Smoke onward. Rounding a bend in the river, he saw
thirteen brush huts that had been erected in the shelter of the pines. A large
dog barked, its hackles rising, as they drew nearer.

Warriors emerged from three of the huts, weapons in hand.
They stared at Chance a moment, then lowered their weapons. Two of the men went
back inside. The third stood, waiting, while Chance dismounted.

“
Hou, cola
,” Chance said, grasping Crooked Lance’s
forearm.

Crooked Lance grasped Chance’s arm in return. “We thought
you had been killed.”

“Not quite.” Chance glanced at the huts. “What of my
cousin?”

“He is alive, but badly hurt,” Crooked Lance replied
gravely. “His woman and son are dead, and so is his will to live.”

Chance swore softly as he looked over his shoulder to where
Winter Rain waited. “What of Mountain Sage and Eagle Lance?”

“Mountain Sage lives.”

At this news, Winter Rain slipped off her horse. “Where is
my mother?”

Crooked Lance pointed at the hut nearest them. “She is
there. My woman is with her.”

“
Pilamaya
,” Winter Rain said, and hurried into the
hut.

“How many survived?” Chance asked, staring after Winter
Rain.

“I am not sure. Our number grows a few each day. After the
battle, those who were not wounded went back and buried the dead.”

Chance nodded. He had figured as much.

He noticed several women peering out of the huts.
Recognizing Chance as one of their own, the women emerged from their dwellings
and resumed the tasks his arrival had interrupted.

“Do you have sentries posted?” Chance asked.

“
Ai
. You passed one of them on your way in. There is
another across the river. And one at the far end of the valley.”

“How are you making out here?”

“The Crow took most of our horses and our stores for the
winter. Our warriors take turns hunting while the women look after the injured.
I fear Winter Rain’s mother will not live much longer.”

“And my cousin?”

Crooked Lance shrugged. “Perhaps knowing you survived will
give him a reason to live.”

“Where is Kills-Like-a-Hawk?”

“There.” Crooked Lance pointed to the last hut. “I will look
after your horse.”

“
Pilamaya
,” Chance said, handing Smoke’s reins to the
warrior.

Kills-Like-a-Hawk would live, Chance thought as he walked
toward his cousin’s hut. Kills-Like-a-Hawk was the only family he had left,
dammit. He wasn’t going to lose him, too.

Chapter Fourteen

The hut was dimly lit by a small fire that burned in a
shallow pit in the back. Chance paused in the entrance, letting his eyes adjust
to the interior. He could make out the dark shape of Kills-Like-a-Hawk lying on
a deer hide near the fire. His cousin’s breathing sounded labored.

There wasn’t much in the lodge other than his cousin’s
weapons, a water skin, and Kills-Like-a-Hawk, himself. The hut smelled of
smoke, sweat, and sweet grass.

Crossing the short distance from the entrance to his cousin,
Chance hunkered down on his heels. He took a deep breath when he saw the
numerous small cuts on his cousin’s arms. He recognized them instantly for what
they were: self-inflicted wounds of mourning.

“Hawk?” he called softly. “Are you awake?”

His cousin stirred. In the faint light of the fire, Chance
saw Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s eyes open. “
Hau, tahunsa
,” he murmured. Hello,
cousin.

“How are you feeling?” Chance asked.

Kills-Like-a-Hawk grunted. “I think I will soon join my
woman and my son.”

“Like hell! Where are you hurt?”

Kills-Like-a-Hawk pulled a corner of the blanket back. A
crude bandage was wrapped around his leg.

Moving carefully, Chance removed the bandage, revealing an
ugly scabbed-over gash that ran from his cousin’s knee to mid-thigh. The skin
around the wound was discolored and swollen.

“It’s infected,” Chance remarked. Rising, he tossed a few
sticks on the fire. “It needs to be lanced and drained.”

“Leave it.”

Chance stared at his cousin. “If that infection gets any
worse, you’ll lose that leg. Is that what you want?”

Kills-Like-a-Hawk shrugged. “I am ready to follow
Wanagi
Tacaka
to
Wanagi Yatu.”

Chance withdrew his knife from the sheath at his side and
held the blade over the flames.

“Well, you may be ready to follow the Spirit Path to the
Place of Souls,” he muttered, turning the blade over, “but I’m not ready to let
you go. Here,” he said, picking up a stout stick, “bite down on this.”

Kills-Like-a-Hawk stared at him a moment, his expression
mutinous, making Chance wonder if he’d have to get a couple of the warriors in
here to hold his cousin down but, in the end, Kills-Like-a-Hawk clamped his
teeth over the stick and closed his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Chance slid the tip of the blade into
the mass of swollen flesh. A horrible smell filled the hut as dark
greenish-yellow pus and blood so dark a red as to be almost black spurted from
the wound.

Chance swore softly as he grabbed a bit of cloth and wiped
the pus from his cousin’s leg. Kills-Like-a-Hawk groaned softly as Chance
pressed gently on the wound, forcing out more pus and dark red blood.

After several minutes, only bright red blood oozed from the
wound.

Chance sat back, wiping the perspiration from his brow.

Kills-Like-a-Hawk opened his eyes and spat the stick from
between his teeth. “I am happy to see you,
tahunsa.”

“I am happy to see you, too,” Chance replied with a grin. Reaching
for another bit of cloth, he dampened it with water from the waterskin and
began to wash the blood and pus from his cousin’s leg.

Kills-Like-a-Hawk winced as Chance began to re-bandage his
wound.

Chance sat back on his heels when he was done. “I am sorry
about your loss,
tahunsa
.”

Kills-Like-a-Hawk looked away. “It is always hardest on
those who are left behind.”

Chance nodded. Slipping his arm under his cousin’s
shoulders, he lifted him up a little, then offered him a drink of water.
Kills-Like-a-Hawk took a few swallows, then turned his head away and Chance
lowered him down on the hide once more.

“Get some rest now,” Chance said, putting the waterskin
aside. “I have some meat packed on my horse.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Maybe not,” Chance replied with a wry grin. “But you’re
going to eat.”

* * * * *

Silent tears trickled down Winter Rain cheeks as she knelt
at her mother’s side. Mountain Sage was barely breathing. Her skin was cool,
almost cold, to the touch.

Winter Rain looked up at Corn Woman. “How long has she been
like this?”

“Since last night,” Corn Woman shook her head sadly. “I am
afraid she is dying.”

“
Hiya
!
Ina?
Ina
, can you hear me?” Winter
Rain squeezed her mother’s hand. “
Ina
, it is Winter Rain.”

Her mother’s eyelids fluttered open. “
Cunski
?”
Daughter?

“Yes, I am here.”

Mountain Sage blinked several times, then lifted a trembling
hand to brush the tears from Winter Rain’s cheek. “
Ceye sni yo
,” she
murmured. Do not cry.

Winter Rain forced herself to smile. “Ina…”

“
Kokepe sni yo
,” Mountain Sage whispered. Do not be
afraid.

“
Ina
,” she wailed softly. “Please, do not leave me!”

But her mother was looking past her, a faint smile curving
her lips. The lines of pain seemed to fade from around her eyes and mouth. She
held out her hand, as if reaching for someone. “
Wapaha Wanbli
,” she
murmured. She nodded, as if in reply to a question, then said, very clearly, “
Han,
winyeya mankelo
.” Yes, I am ready to go.

She sighed and the light faded from her eyes. A moment
later, her body went limp.

“
Ina
!” Winter Rain grabbed her mother’s hand and held
it to her breast. “
Ina
, do not leave me!”

But it was too late. Winter Rain stared at her mother’s
body, her breath catching in her throat as she saw her mother’s spirit float
upward and disappear in a sliver of sunlight.

“I love you,” she whispered and ever so faintly, she heard
her mother’s voice repeat the words.

Still holding her mother’s hand, Winter Rain bowed her head
and let the tears flow.

Chance stood outside the hut where Winter Rain’s mother was
being cared for. He could hear Winter Rain crying, knew from the depths of
grief evident in her sobs that her mother had passed away. It was a sound that
tore at his heart. He knew all too well what she was feeling.

He heard Corn Woman trying to comfort Winter Rain and
suddenly he needed to be the one holding her. Ignoring tribal custom, Chance
ducked inside without announcing his presence.

Corn Woman glanced over her shoulder. She frowned at him in
silent reproach, then turned back to Winter Rain, who was rocking back and
forth beside her mother’s body.

Chance crossed the distance between them in two long
strides. “Rain.”

She looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes.

Reaching down, he lifted her to her feet; then, holding her
hand in his, he led her out of the hut and away from the camp.

Winter Rain followed Wolf Shadow blindly, her heart numb.
Mountain Sage was dead and all the security in Winter Rain’s world had died
with her.

She was hardly aware that Wolf Shadow had stopped walking
until he drew her into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Rain,” he said quietly. “I know how you loved
her.”

She nodded. “She was so good to me. She was always so
gentle, so loving, no matter what I did, no matter how much I…” She stared up
at him, her eyes wide. “No matter how many times I told her I hated her when I
first came here…it’s true, isn’t it? She wasn’t my real mother.”

It hurt to say the words aloud. She had known Mountain Sage
wasn’t her natural mother. Mountain Sage and Wolf Shadow had both told her that
she had not been born Lakota, but she had refused to believe it, refused to
accept it as the truth. But now, suddenly, she remembered everything she had
blocked from her mind and heart.

“I remember,” she whispered. “Eagle Lance and some of the
other warriors attacked our coach. Iron Arrow wounded my…my
wasichu
father.
Iron Arrow pulled me out of the coach and gave me to Eagle Lance, who took me
home with him. Mountain Sage had lost a little girl and she was grieving. They
adopted me as their own. They were so good to me, and now…” A fresh torrent of
tears swept down her cheeks. “Now they’re gone.” She buried her face in Chance’s
shoulder.

Chance brushed his lips across the crown of her head. He
wished he had some sage advice to offer her, some words of comfort that would
ease her pain, but he knew only too well that, at a time like this, words were
meaningless. All he could do was hold her while she cried. Time was the best
healer of all.

He held her until her tears subsided, then led her over to a
large flat rock. Sitting down, he drew her down beside him.

She sniffed, then wiped the last of her tears from her eyes
with her fingertips before asking, “How is your cousin?”

“He’s hurt pretty bad, but I…I think he’ll recover.”

“I’m glad.”

“Rain.”

“Oh, Wolf, I’m going to miss her so!” she exclaimed softly,
and dissolved into tears once more.

They buried Mountain Sage early the next morning. Winter
Rain painted her mother’s face for her journey into the Land of Many Lodges. It
was there, in the Land of Many Lodges, where she would be reunited with Eagle
Lance and her lost daughter, a place where there was no sorrow, a verdant land
filled with all the good things of the earth.

At any other time, Mountain Sage would have been dressed in
her best tunic. Her awl case and her sewing kit would have been placed at her
side, and she would have been wrapped her in a fine buffalo robe. Her favorite
horse would have been killed and its tail placed on a pole. But her best tunic
and all her belongings had been destroyed by the Crow. And the Lakota had no
horses to spare.