Brave the Wild Wind

Chapter 14

IT was so wonderful to be with White Thunder and his family again, wonderful to put away her guns and wear the Indian dress Little Gray Bird Woman had helped her make, to braid her hair and wrap fancy beaded and quilled thongs around her braids. It was wonderful. But it wasn’t the same as before, because there was an intruder this time.

Little Hawk had followed her to the Cheyenne village. He had not returned north at all but had stayed in the area. If he’d been skulking around, watching her, couldn’t he have seen her with Chase that night? She was more embarrassed than she’d ever been in her life. Why did he persist in following her? White Thunder couldn’t explain, saying only that Little Hawk had requested to speak with her.

She had managed to forget about Little Hawk the night before. She and White Thunder spent long hours talking, and she had unburdened herself to him, especially about her father’s death. His sympathy had managed to make her cry, which was good. Then she went on to tell him about Rachel and her recent troubles, but he had no solutions to offer. For some reason, she said nothing about Chase. Perhaps she was too ashamed.

This afternoon, Jessie waited in the tepee with her friend for Little Hawk’s arrival. They had the large tepee to themselves. White Thunder’s little brother was off with his friends, using half-sized bows and arrows to hunt for prairie dogs and rabbits. Runs with the Wolf was outside gambling with some of the older men. Wide River Woman and Little Gray Bird Woman were tanning a buffalo hide behind the tepee, and their soft voices came to Jessie every so often. She had to grin at their conversation.

“I saw you smiling at Gray Kettle, daughter, and I have told you many times you must never exchange glances or smiles with a man, and certainly not one who is courting you.”

“But it was only a little smile, Mother,” Little Gray Bird Woman protested.

“Every little smile will lessen your worth. He will think he has already won you, so he will not offer so many horses. Do you want to be a poor wife?”

“No, Mother.” Little Gray Bird Woman’s voice was submissive. “And I will remember not to smile so much.”

“Not to smile at all, daughter,” Wide River Woman reprimanded. “And you must not let Gray Kettle or White Dog stay so long when they come to visit.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Has either of your young men asked you to marry?” Wide River Woman’s voice grew even more serious.

“No, not yet.”

“Well, you must remember to refuse the first time you are asked. Refuse gently, but let them know you are not an easy conquest.”

“But, Mother—”

“Listen to me. I tell you these things for your own good,” Wide River Woman said patiently. “Do not let either of your young men see you when you are alone, even the man you prefer. You must not let a man touch you, daughter, especially your breasts. If a man touches your breasts, he considers that you belong to him. Would you have your two men fighting each other because one boasts that he has won you before he has consent? No, you would not, for the one you prefer may lose. Have you made a choice yet? My husband favors White Dog, as I do, but if Gray Kettle should offer more, then ...”

Their voices trailed off. Jessie’s face was bright red. She had let Chase Summers touch her breasts and do a great deal more. But he wasn’t an Indian. He’d not think she belonged to him. No, quite the opposite. Chase had known her in the most intimate way, then wanted nothing more to do with her!

White Thunder had been watching Jessie closely, and he’d known her for a long time.

“You blush. Have you been touched by a man, Looks Like Woman?” he teased.

Jessie gasped. Could he see into her mind? It was eerie and it had happened many times before.

“Do you wish to speak of it?” he asked hesitantly.

“No, not yet.”

“It was not Little Hawk?”

She laughed bitterly and he was shocked.

“At least he wouldn’t want a woman one minute, then decide she was unworthy of him the next.”

“Who has treated you this way?” White Thunder stood up. He was very angry.

“Sit down, my friend,” Jessie said gently. “I was probably as much to blame for what happened as he was. I was naive.”

“But you are hurt.”

“I will get over it.”

Jessie returned to pounding the wild cherries, pits and all, in a stone mortar. Later they would be dried and mixed with strips of buffalo meat and fat to make pemmican, a food that would keep for months.

He moved away from her, leaving her to her thoughts. Jessie was glad she had told him. He would understand now if she suddenly became moody.

White Thunder was such a wise, thoughtful man for one so young. He was, in fact, only two years older than she was. How she loved him, her dear friend! She glanced at him and smiled as he looked up at her.

The Cheyenne were the tallest of the Plains tribes, and White Thunder was six feet in height. He was disturbingly handsome, too, with those startling blue eyes inherited from his father. His skin was copper, but mostly from the sun. He was a young warrior who had already proved himself as fit as any man, stronger than most. She was proud of their friendship.

Little Hawk came in a few minutes later, entering the tepee silently. He wore a shirt reserved for special occasions, one made of the hide of the bighorn sheep. The long sleeves were fringed, as were his leggings, and the bead work was beautiful. There were also tassels and bits of metal and shells hanging here and there. On his braids were wrappings of white fur, and a single blue feather was attached, just like the feather he had left her.

White Thunder was impressed, and concerned. The way the Sioux was dressed portended something important, and he was afraid he knew what that something was. He was not pleased.

Little Hawk, following protocol, waited to be invited to sit. White Thunder let him wait for a moment, looking at Jessie to see if she understood the meaning of this visit. Finally he sighed and bade Little Hawk welcome, speaking in the Sioux tongue. Jessie watched them talking, growing impatient as the conversation continued without her understanding a word of it. She had thought Little Hawk was there to talk to her. She was becoming annoyed.

At last Little Hawk turned to her, and White Thunder said, “He asks permission to speak to you.”

Jessie replied, “But I have already agreed to speak to him. Isn’t that why he’s here?”

“He is asking formally now.”

Jessie repressed a grin at the absurdity of it. “Then I agree, formally.”

White Thunder continued solemnly, “He has also asked that I interpret for him.”

“But why? He speaks English.”

“He disdains to use it when it is not necessary,” White Thunder explained.

Jessie was irritated. “Then why did he learn it to begin with?”

“You wish me to ask him?”

“I can ask him,” she said curtly.

“Do not speak with him directly,” White Thunder warned quietly. “Do not look at him so boldly, either, or reveal what you are thinking.”

She laughed. “Do you know you sound just like your mother?”

“Be serious, woman.” White Thunder frowned at her. “He is serious. Besides, for what he intends, it is customary for him to speak through a third person.” He raised a questioning brow at her. “Do you understand now?”

Jessie’s forehead crinkled in a frown. What was he trying to tell her? She had never known White Thunder to be so cryptic.

“Perhaps if we just got on with it,” Jessie suggested, glancing apprehensively at Little Hawk.

The two men spoke at length, and Jessie’s apprehension grew when it became obvious that they were arguing. If she only had some inkling of what the meeting was all about.

The men fell silent, and Jessie found she’d been holding her breath. When neither man spoke again, she prompted, “Well?”

“It is as I guessed,” White Thunder told her shortly. “He wants you to be his woman.”

Jessie was speechless. She told herself she ought not to be surprised, but she was.

She turned to Little Hawk then, and their eyes locked for a moment before she looked away. Yes, he did want her. Suddenly she was flattered. This was soothing balm after the despicable way Chase had treated her.

“Just his woman, or his wife?” she asked hurriedly.

“His wife.”

“I see ...” Jessie gazed up toward the top of the tepee, musing.

White Thunder was taken aback. “You are not considering accepting?”

“What did he offer for me?”

“Seven horses,” he answered.

“Seven?” Jessie was impressed. “Why so many? Is he rich?”

“Simply determined, I think. One horse would be for me, for agreeing to speak for him, since he has no close friend here to do so. Two horses would be given to Runs with the Wolf, since it is his tepee you occupy. The other four are for you, and will remain yours, along with all your own possessions.”

“And the tepee,” she prompted, knowing that a tepee was considered the wife’s property.

“No, not the tepee,” White. Thunder confessed gently. “This was the main reason I told him it would not work. He already has a first wife.”

“He does?”

“Yes.”

“I see,” Jessie said stiffly.

Why she was suddenly so angry she didn’t know. Perhaps because it had been nice to feel wanted, to forget about her troubles at the ranch. A fairy tale, however.

“Tell Little Hawk I am flattered,” Jessie said, “but I cannot possibly accept. Tell him white women do not share their husbands. I will not be a second wife.”

To Jessie’s relief Little Hawk accepted her refusal gracefully. He had a few more words with White Thunder, then left the tepee.

“He said he expected your refusal this first time,” White Thunder told her gravely. “He seems to think you will get used to the idea and change your mind.”

“Oh!” Jessie was getting worried. “I suppose he will stick around, to press his suit?”

“I can guarantee you have not seen the last of him,” replied White Thunder.

Jessie shook her head. A few days before, she had been without a man and as free as you please. Now she had more than she cared to handle.