Savage Skies (9 page)

He had been so glad to separate Shawnta from that sister. He had actually married her more to protect her from hurts than out of love. Their marriage had been one of gentle understanding, full of quiet affection, but never passionate in any way.

He doubted the white woman would ever let any other woman, even a sister, stand in her way, or ridicule her.

Ho
, she was tiny in build, but large in strength and courage!

And he knew that the more he allowed her into his mind, the more she was taking over his heart. Here was a woman who could take the place of the one he had lost.

He would always love Shawnta and the special way they had cared for one another.

But now he wanted a woman with whom he could share passion, not just affection. He
wanted, oh, so much more than what he had had with Shawnta.

He wanted everything that he had denied himself while living in a marriage that was truly more of convenience than true, deep love.

He needed the enduring love that came with sharing his blankets with a woman who could inspire passion in him as well.

And if that woman's skin was white, so be it. His people would just have to accept his choice.

Suddenly aware of where he had allowed his thoughts to wander, Blue Thunder shook his head to clear his thoughts, stood quickly, and began pacing. He had thought too long about this white woman, who might still have a husband searching for her.

Although he must not allow himself to think about the woman again in such a way, the fact still remained that she might have a lost daughter. If a small child the same age as his own daughter was missing, it would be cruel not to search for her.

He gazed toward his closed entrance flap. He wondered if he should go and ask Shirleen about her daughter, yet thus far she had ignored him when he tried to talk to her.

She must hate all men with red skin. And why wouldn't she? It was Indians who had destroyed her world.

He hoped in time she would realize that not all people with red skin were bad!

If he could find her child, would that not convince her to trust him?

And although he did believe she had a husband out there somewhere, and although he knew he should fight his feelings for her, he could not help wanting to know more about her. She had spoken to his heart.

When he looked past the mistrust in her eyes, he saw someone who could be very loving and caring. First, though, he must gain her trust.

What better way to gain that trust than to find her daughter?

His decision made, he leaped to his feet, went to his entranceway and threw the skin door aside.

With determined steps he went from lodge to lodge, announcing a council with all of his warriors.

Soon they had gathered in the council house, their eyes questioning Blue Thunder as the morning sun filtered through the smoke that rose from the central fire. The men seated themselves around it, while their chief stood before them.

“My friends, it has come to my attention that the white woman who has been brought into our midst may have a
micinski,
a small child around the same age as my own, and that little girl has been separated from her
ina
, her mother,” Blue Thunder said. “And why do I believe this might be so?”

He explained what Speckled Fawn had observed, and her belief that the woman who had escaped rape and death at the hands of the
renegades had somehow become separated from her daughter.

His jaw tightened.

“The child might even now be with Big Nose,” he said thickly. “I would not want to even think what his plans might be for the girl, for he is evil, through and through.”

Black Wing, the troublemaker of the village, suddenly stood and placed his fists on his hips as he glared at his chief. “We should not get any more involved in the lives of white people than we already are,” he growled out. “We already have two white women in our village. That is two too many. I say rid our lives of those two instead of bringing another one into our midst.”

Blue Thunder gave Black Wing a scolding stare, causing the warrior to wince and quickly sit down again.

Blue Thunder then gazed slowly around him, making eye contact with each of his warriors before speaking again.

In their eyes was the trust that was lacking in Black Wing, and Blue Thunder knew they were always ready to do his bidding, no matter whom it concerned, or whether that person's skin was red or white. They trusted their chief in every way, and admired him deeply.

“It is my decision to search for this white child, who is probably around four winters of age. It is wrong for a child of this age, or any age, to be unprotected from men such as Big Nose and his renegades,” Blue Thunder said.
“Those of you who will ride with me on a mission of kindness, stand. Those who wish to stay behind in the village for any reason, leave the council house.”

The only one who left was Black Wing, and he did it with his head down and shoulders bent, looking like a coward.

Disappointed that even one of his warriors would oppose him, Blue Thunder felt betrayed by Black Wing. He would not forget this day.

He said nothing until Black Wing was gone. Then he looked at the warriors standing before him, dutiful as always.

“Here is my plan,” he said firmly. “Separate yourselves into four groups. One group will stay behind to protect our village. You in the other three groups, leave the council house and mount your horses. Each group will ride from the village, then separate and travel in three directions. Search. You will look for two different things. One will be a child wandering alone, possibly even hurt, the other is Big Nose's hideout. If none of you are successful in finding the lost child, or Big Nose's hideout, return home at sunset.”

He motioned toward the entrance flap with a hand. “Go,” he said. “Mount your steeds. I will follow and mount my own. Once we have left the village, I will choose which group I shall ride with. But we must use all our skills today to find the child.”

He stood aside as his warriors left in a flurry, then went outside himself.

He strode to his tepee and chose two weapons to take with him. One was a knife sheathed at his waist, the other a rifle.

When he left his lodge, a young brave was there with his saddled horse. He patted the boy lovingly on the head, slid his rifle into the gun boot at the right side of his white steed, then mounted and started to ride off with his waiting warriors.

But the feeling that eyes were on him made him pause for a moment.

He turned and found Shirleen peeking from the corner of the entrance flap of her assigned lodge.

Their eyes momentarily met, and then she dropped the flap closed.

Not certain why she was looking at him, wondering if he should take the time to tell her what he was doing, he paused a moment longer.

Remembering that she still had little reason to trust him or anyone in his village, he felt it was best not to tell her anything at this time. He hoped that when he returned he would have something positive to tell her.

If he could find her little girl, how happy she would be. It would be touching to see the two reunited.

Realizing that his warriors were beginning to wonder why he was lingering there so long, Blue Thunder looked straight ahead again, flicked his reins, and rode off with his men through the village.

He was determined to find the child.

After separating into three search parties, Blue Thunder rode straight and tall in his saddle at the head of one of them, his loose, thick, black hair blowing in the wind behind him.

His eyes did not miss any movement in the grass, or behind trees, or on the hillsides they rode past.

This search was as important as any task ever undertaken by himself and his warriors.

If there was a child, somehow, some way, he would find her!

Be strong!
Say not: The days are evil,
Who's to blame?

—Babcock

The day had been long.

The search had taken the Assiniboine warriors far and wide.

But they were home now, empty-handed.

Blue Thunder had eaten the evening meal with his daughter and aunt. Bathed and dressed in fresh, fringed buckskins and matching moccasins, he stepped up to the entrance flap of the lodge where the white woman named Shirleen was staying. He imagined she must be feeling downcast, missing her old life with every fiber of her being, especially her daughter.

After spending a full day searching for the child, Blue Thunder spoke Shirleen's name before entering the lodge. He knew that she deserved as much privacy as anyone else, especially since she was in unfamiliar surroundings, at the mercy of people she did not yet trust.

Shirleen heard Blue Thunder's voice. It made her heart do a strange leap inside her chest. She realized she felt no fear at the sound of his deep, masculine voice.

Although she did not want him to know that she had any feelings for him, she could not help feeling more and more intrigued by the man. Would he think her attraction foolish, because she was a mere white woman and he was a powerful chief?

When the young chief spoke her name again, Shirleen hurried to her feet and went to the entrance flap.

Dismayed that her hand trembled as she reached for the hide covering, she seemed to have no control over her emotions.

As she held the flap aside, the evening breeze wafted past Blue Thunder into the small tepee, and she noticed the darkening sky behind him. Shirleen did not seem to know how to talk with him, fearing she might say the wrong thing.

She only looked at him shyly as he stepped past her, not waiting for her to invite him in.

As Shirleen dropped the skin back into place and returned to the fire to sit down beside it, Blue Thunder could not help feeling disappointed. He was discouraged that the woman still chose not to speak to him.

He sat down across the fire from her, noticing the hesitancy in her expression when her eyes momentarily met his.

When she looked away from him again, fixing
her gaze on the mats upon which she sat, Blue Thunder was overwhelmed by frustration.

“I have been gone most of the day with my warriors,” he suddenly blurted out. “I am going to tell you where we have been, and what we did not achieve.”

He waited for her to respond, but again she chose not to.

His frustration was building, for he truly wanted to help this woman.

But he also wanted her to want his help!

“I was brought news that you might have a child,” he began.

Shirleen's throat tightened.

She looked quickly up at him.

But she still said nothing even though she was very aware that he was gazing into her eyes. She was also aware of how her own heart was racing.

She could not help wondering why he had concerned himself with news of her child.

He was a chief with many more things on his mind than the existence of a stranger's daughter.

“Is there a daughter?” Blue Thunder prodded. When Shirleen still said nothing, he searched with his eyes for the small dress that Speckled Fawn had spoken of.

When he saw a tiny dress lying apart from the other clothes, he assumed it was the one Speckled Fawn had seen Shirleen crying over.

He moved to his feet and took the dress up into his hands.

She gasped when he suddenly turned and knelt on his haunches beside her, shoving the dress into her hand.

“This surely belongs to your daughter,” he said. “You made the dress, did you not? Your daughter wore it.”

Shirleen stifled a sob behind one hand as she held the dress in the other, her eyes filling with tears as she gazed directly into Blue Thunder's.

“You have been wrong not to tell me about your daughter,” Blue Thunder said, standing and going back to sit across the fire from her. “There is a daughter, is there not?”

Shirleen fought against the emotions ravaging her heart as she started to say something, but it took too long, and he was speaking again.

“Speckled Fawn came to me and told me about your reaction to the tiny dress,” Blue Thunder said thickly. “My warriors and I have searched the long day through for any signs of a small white girl child, but we did not find her.”

Shirleen was too stunned to speak. She could not believe that this powerful chief would have made such an effort to search for a mere child, and a white one at that.

Why would a small child be so important to this Indian chief, unless he and his people needed white children for a particular purpose?

She suddenly went pale when a horrifying thought struck fear into her heart.

Did these people use white children as sacrifices to their gods?

The thought sickened her.

She stood quickly, dropped the dress to the mats, then ran past Blue Thunder. She stopped just outside the tepee and vomited.

The sentry's eyes widened as his chief came out of the tepee and hurried to the woman. He gently wiped her mouth clean with his own hand when Shirleen stopped vomiting.

Shirleen was stunned.

She turned her eyes up to Blue Thunder and stared disbelievingly at him as he wiped his hand clean on the grass, then stood and looked at her.

“Why did you react in such a way when all I wanted was to help you?” he asked, searching her green eyes for answers. “My people are not like the Comanche renegades who kill whites without a reason. I have no good feelings for whites, but I respect all people, as I do the animals of the forest. All were placed on earth for a purpose. A woman's purpose, whether red or white, is to bear and love children . . . and to give love to a man who will return her love in kind.”

He dared to place a gentle hand on her cheek and gaze more intently into her eyes. “I see you as a lovely woman who has been wronged,” he said thickly. “Is there a small child out there somewhere who has also been wronged?”

The touch of his hand was warm on her
cheek, the look in his eyes filled with caring. Shirleen felt anything but repulsed by him and what he was saying.