People of the Earth (82 page)

 
          
 
Wind Runner massaged the back of his neck.
"I hope you know what you're doing."

 
          
 
Sage Ghost gave him a wry grin. "So do
I." Then he looked up at the sunset. "She won't be Bright Moon. But
she keeps my robes warm. For having a son that old, she's still strong."
He paused. "I suppose I can cherish a memory for only so long."

 
          
 
"And you're one of us . . . yet
apart."

 
          
 
Sage Ghost rubbed his hands together. "Something
like that. Nephew, I thank you for sharing your lodge with me. But the time has
come to keep my own again." He paused. "Old habits die hard—but more
than that, living with you makes me feel like an old man. I'm not ready for
that yet."

 
          
 
"You'll find out just how old you really
are if you plant another child in her." Wind Runner looked at the woman
again. She gazed at her son through hollow eyes. He could see the swell of her
breasts against the leather of her soft hide dress. No wonder Sage Ghost had
chosen this one.

 
          
 
"Well, go teach your . . . family how to
talk like humans." Wind Runner waved his uncle away.

 
          
 
"And more," Sage Ghost grinned as he
headed for the lodge.

 
          
 
Wind Runner stared at the trampled ground
between his feet. How long can a man live with the past as his only companion?
He glanced at the rise of
Green
Mountain
to the South. White Ash? Are you alive?

 
          
 
"Lost in your thoughts again?"
Aspen
asked behind him.

 
          
 
He turned. "I didn't hear you."

 
          
 
She came to stand beside him, adding dryly,
"You'd be surprised. Over the years I've learned to pay attention to where
I put my feet. Sage Ghost pled for the boy?"

 
          
 
"I let him keep him." Wind Runner
rubbed his jaw. "But it worries me. The boy knows what happened to the
rest of his family. Will he turn against us?"

 
          
 
"Come," she told him. "Eat
something. Worry won't do you any good now. What will be, will be. Who knows,
perhaps Sage Ghost will make him a warrior."

 
          
 
She led him to a fire pit that glowed red near
a sagebrush sunshade. Her dress hugged the curves of her hips and molded to her
slim waist. She moved with a delicate poise that complemented her keen mind.

 
          
 
Wind Runner settled himself on a robe that lay
on the ground and watched as
Aspen
levered a roast from the fire. With a
chert
knife, she sliced long, rich lengths of meat and
piled them in a buffalo-horn dish, then passed it over to him with balanced
grace. As he reached for the bowl, their eyes met—and held. He forced his gaze
away and tried to turn his thoughts from the way her soul touched his.

 
          
 
Similar fires smoked where the people in his
band camped around Round Rock. For the most part, Sun People chose not to use
the earthen shelters. Like him, they found them confining, stifling.

 
          
 
Wind Runner tasted the meat. Antelope. Sweet,
delicate. The hunters who'd killed it had done a good job. Antelope had to be
killed quickly and surely. If they ran wounded, or with a punctured gut, the
meat took on a strong flavor. Nor could a hunter let the animal lie before
butchering; he must gut and skin his kill immediately, and cool the meat. For
antelope had hollow hair that retained body heat, so much heat that the meat
would sour.

 
          
 
He chewed thoughtfully before asking,
"How are the women doing?"

 
          
 
Aspen
loaded a bowl of her own before replying,
"You were right. This is a rich land. Since we captured the camp three
days ago, we've dug new caches in the earth lodges and filled them with enough
dried plants to last for weeks. Talking with the captives is still difficult,
but they do as we say." She laughed. "What choice do they have? The
last ones who tried to run away are feeding coyotes."

 
          
 
"Disobedience is fading?"

 
          
 
She shot him a quick glance. "Better to
live and work than leave your bones to rot. They are beginning to understand
what has happened to them. Given the choice, they'll work. They still grieve
for their men, but there are worse fates than having a strange man crawl on top
of you in the middle of the night."

 
          
 
Muted voices carried on the evening air. In
the distance, camp dogs broke into a fight. A man yelled, and the yipping and
growling ceased. "The men heed your rule. They don't strike the women
unless they fight."

 
          
 
He nodded. "I don't understand. These
people act as if their spirits are broken—as if they were defeated before we
arrived."

 
          
 
. She gazed up at the first stars twinkling in
the east. "Perhaps their Power has fled. Sage Ghost says that they keep
talking about the Gathering and some terrible thing that happened there. Maybe
that's what makes them so tame." She snorted. "Me, I'd fight and
fight until I killed my captor . . . or he killed me."

 
          
 
"Maybe that's why we're here. To bring
new Power to the land." Power. The mention of it always led his thoughts
to White Ash. Would she be this easy to talk to? White Ash had been preoccupied
with her Dreams, but
Aspen
turned her quick mind to the world and shared the problems he faced.

 
          
 
She glanced thoughtfully at him, a sadness in
her large eyes. In a controlled voice, she said, "She wasn't at Three
Forks."

 
          
 
Melancholy settled around his heart. "No.
She wasn't."

 
          
 
"I'm sorry, Wind Runner. I had hoped
you'd find her before this."

 
          
 
Did she have to be so honest with him? She
knew he watched her, knew the direction of his thoughts. Yet not once had
resentment for White Ash possessed her; she'd shown only that knowing
understanding. And that made his confused affection for her all the stronger.
How many nights had he and
Aspen
talked away? How many hours had they spent making plans and honing them
before offering them to the council?

 
          
 
Her efforts didn't stop there. At night she
made the rounds of the camps, listening to the people. Her counsel smoothed
ruffled feelings, eased the worries of a people in a new land. She kept an eye
on the captives and how they were treated. When she saw trouble coming, she
whispered a warning to him. Through her, Wind Runner received Hot Fat's full
support in council.

 
          
 
But what of White Ash? Yes, he still loved
her. But night after night a consuming passion led him to Hot Fat's lodge
simply to talk to
Aspen
.

 
          
 
White Ash? If she's alive, she had to know the
Black Point have come. If she's alive . . .

           
 
He swallowed another bite of meat and gestured
at the surrounding land. "We've taken all the camps to the north of Round
Rock.
Badwater
, Warm Wind, Poison Creek, Red Rock,
and all the rest." The Black Point covered the entire
Wind
Basin
. They'd climbed the Gray Wall, and now the
Red
Earth
Basin
lay before them. He said, "Sage Ghost
has asked for her in all of the camps. Talked to all the captives. None of them
knows of White Ash."

 
          
 
He knew the sad-eyed stare she gave him—had
seen it so often it had become second nature.

 
          
 
"Sage Ghost has made his peace with the
past," she said softly.

 
          
 
The words pained him with their truth. She had
that way with him, always cutting to the heart of the matter. Wind Runner
bolted the last of his meat and set the bowl down. "I know."

 
          
 
She stood up and took his hand. "Walk
with me."

 
          
 
He let her lead him past the fires where
warriors sat in the flickering light, eating, talking. Black Point women
laughed and gestured, while the women of the Earth People whispered among
themselves.

 
          
 
She led him around the outcrop of granite that
shielded the west side of the camp and stopped, examining the colors that faded
on the horizon. A warm breeze carried the scent of sage and hot, dry earth.

 
          
 
"The bugs aren't as bad here," she
said as she climbed up on the rock and sat down. "I wanted to talk to you
away from camp, where no one could overhear."

 
          
 
He settled himself next to her, feeling
uneasy. She had a serious expression on her beautiful face. The tranquil peace
of the night drifted around him.

 
          
 
With agile fingers, she undid her braids and
fluffed out her hair. The gleaming black strands hung around her like a shawl,
framing her face and clinging to her breasts. He forced himself to look away.

 
          
 
"I wouldn't have thought it would happen
this way," she said. "When you plan, you make no mistakes. In the
council, only Black Moon's voice carries more weight than yours. Even the
warriors have stopped grumbling about eating plants."

 
          
 
He smiled. "They're still flushed with
victory. But we have done well." He gazed out at the fall of night.
Evening birds called plaintively in the brush. "Who would have thought we
could take an entire land and lose only one woman and two warriors? Our people
seem content."

 
          
 
She took a deep breath of the warm air.
"They are. The women especially. Their work is less, and they can boss the
captives around."

 
          
 
He took her hand. "The camps in the south
won't like what we've done. But what can they do? If they fight, it won't be
with strength."

 
          
 
She slid off the rock and moved down to sit
closer to him. In the fading light, he looked into her gentle eyes and traced
her smooth face with a fingertip. She seemed to melt against him. Her scent and
the warmth of her lithe body enveloped him.

 
          
 
She laughed shakily. "You and I, Wind
Runner, what a pair."

 
          
 
She ran a hand down his leg, stirring his
soul. He closed his eyes, imaging that her touch belonged to White Ash, but the
illusion faded before reality.

 
          
 
"
Aspen
," he whispered.

 
          
 
She looked up at him and smiled—but a sadness
shone in her eyes. As she started to pull away, he tightened his hold.

 
          
 
He could see her indecision. "I'm sorry,
I . . ."He stumbled over the words.