Shadow Walker (26 page)

Laughing Brook leaped forward, trapping Dawn against the lodgepole. She saw Dawn look over her shoulder and glanced behind herself, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Shadow Walker standing just inside the tipi.

Shadow Walker had arrived to escort Dawn to the feast. When he saw Laughing Brook standing before Dawn in a threatening manner, he quickly placed himself between Dawn and the jealous widow. “What is the meaning of this?” he thundered. His voice was as hard as his expression. “What are you doing here, Laughing Brook?”

Hiding the knife in the folds of her tunic, Laughing Brook was all innocence as she smiled at Shadow Walker. “I came to wish your bride well. I will leave now.” She sidled past Shadow Walker and ducked out the entrance.

“What happened here?” Shadow Walker asked as he reached for Dawn. “Did Laughing Brook hurt you?”

Dawn decided not to reveal the ugliness she’d discovered in Laughing Brook. No harm had been done, and she saw no reason to mention the violence that Laughing Brook had intended.

“I’m fine. It’s as Laughing Brook said. She wanted to wish me well.”

Shadow Walker searched her face. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Forget it. Whatever Laughing Brook intended is of no consequence.”

Shadow Walker wasn’t convinced, but there was no time to dwell on it. The drums were beating in a wild rhythm, summoning people from every campsite along the Little Big Horn to the festivities. “It’s time to go.” His gaze slid down her body, then back up to her face, pleased by what he saw. “You’re beautiful. But something’s missing.”

“Missing?”

He removed the headband adorned with a single eagle’s feather from his own head and placed it on hers. He stood back and smiled his approval.

“It looks better on you. Come, the People are waiting.” He held out his hand.

Dawn slipped her hand in his, feeling the warmth and strength of his grip clear down to her toes. He looked so handsome, she thought. He was dressed in pure white. His shirt was embroidered with beads and feathers and thickly fringed in the same manner as hers. The shirt ended below his slim hips, where the fringe met the tops of his white leggings. His moccasins were as elaborately adorned as his shirt. The pristine white of his clothing provided a startling contrast to his deep tan. He looked every bit the proud savage despite his bronze hair and green eyes.

The size of the crowd gathering for the festivities was daunting. Dawn clung to Shadow Walker’s hand as a path opened for them. Dream Spinner awaited them in the center of a circle that was at least fifty deep.

They paused before the shaman, the focus of attention. Dream Spinner waved his medicine stick and a rattle made of bones, mumbling words
that made little sense to Dawn. Abruptly the chanting ceased. As if on cue, the People sat cross-legged on the ground. Shadow Walker grasped Dawn’s hand and seated her between Running Elk and himself. Then the feasting and dancing began. Warriors danced around a huge firepit, others sang of their brave deeds. At times women joined the dancing, which grew wilder and more frenzied as the evening progressed.

Shadow Walker touched Dawn’s arm and she turned to him. His eyes had turned a dark, impenetrable green; his face was stark with undisguised hunger. She felt as if her bones were melting.

“Are you ready to go?” he whispered against her ear.

Dawn looked at him questioningly. She’d been waiting for their wedding ceremony to begin. “I thought we were to be joined tonight?”

“It is done,” he said, smiling. “The shaman blessed us and the People are feasting in our honor. We need only to enter our lodge together to be married.”

“Th … that’s all there is to it?”

Shadow Walker nodded slowly. “Will you come with me now? I have waited as long as I can.” He rose and held out his hand.

Compelled by the promise his eyes held, she gave him her hand. He pulled her to her feet, and amid much hooting and laughter, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to their lodge. He set her on her feet and closed the flap, shutting out the night. Ahead of them lay long hours of sensual pleasure, of exploring one another, of taking and giving, mouths and bodies joined in mutual need.

They undressed one another slowly, partaking freely of the love play that led to the deepest level of rapture allowed by the Gods of Love. Shadow Walker made love to her twice without stopping. Then they slept, awakening shortly before dawn to make love again. This time Shadow Walker was so carried away he couldn’t withdraw in time and spilled himself inside her. He hadn’t intended for it to happen, but passion had sabotaged his good intentions.

Dawn felt as if her entire world were wrapped around this one man. He was in her heart, her soul, her very pores. Why couldn’t he love her? she silently lamented. Why did their relationship have to be all one-sided? She knew he hadn’t withdrawn the last time they’d made love, and she fervently prayed that his seed had found fertile ground. She wanted some small part of him to treasure after he left her.

Preparations were begun the following day for their departure. It took several days to say their good-byes, gather provisions and plan their route. Before they left, Shadow Walker decided to try one last time to convince the great chiefs to disband and return to their lands. Chief Sitting Bull had arrived and a council meeting was called for two days hence, which was June 21. Unfortunately, Shadow Walker had no better luck convincing Sitting Bull than he’d had the first time he’d addressed the council. He returned to the lodge and told Dawn to be ready to leave the following day, June 22.

“Sitting Bull was no more receptive to my plea
than were the other chiefs,” Shadow Walker said with a hint of sadness. “It is time for us to leave.”

Dawn offered no argument. Tension was high within the village. An air of fatalism prevailed among the People. She was aware that Shadow Walker was right in taking her away, that her safety depended on leaving this place. She would go with Shadow Walker and make a life for herself in whatever place he left her.

“Where are we going from here?”

“To Bozeman. It’s not too great a distance away, and we should be able to join a wagon train passing through to Oregon. It’s an arduous trip, but I think you’re well enough now to endure it.”

He slipped off his breechclout, moccasins and shirt and joined her beneath the blanket.

“Where do you intend to dump me?”

“We’re both going to Oregon,” Shadow Walker said with a frown. “Who said I was going to dump you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“My sister and her husband will make you welcome,” he hedged.

“I wish—”

“Dammit, Dawn, you talk too much. How can I love you while you’re haranguing me about something that’s too far in the future to predict?”

Something unspoken lingered in the air, and Dawn tried to banish the intrusive thought that once they left the village Shadow Walker would shed her just as quickly as he had just shed his clothing. He didn’t want a wife. He pitied her, and pity wasn’t enough for her.

*    *    *

The entire village turned out to bid them goodbye the following day. It was June 22. The Indian forces gathered at the Little Big Horn were awesome in their very numbers.

Dawn was overwhelmed. She felt an ominous stirring within her breast and despaired for these people with whom she shared kinship but little else. She glanced at Shadow Walker, amazed by his transformation this morning. The fierce Shadow Walker, garbed now in white man’s clothing, had disappeared with the dawn. Cole Webster, every bit as handsome, strong and fierce as Shadow Walker, was the same man yet somehow different.

“May Wakantanka protect and guide you,” Running Elk said, grasping Cole’s forearm in a gesture of friendship.

“And you, brother,” Cole returned.

Suddenly their attention was diverted by a scout riding toward them. He rode as if the devils of hell were after him. He headed into Crazy Horse’s camp, reining his horse in sharply when he spied the great chief talking to Sitting Bull and Gall.

“It is Man Who Loves Horses. I will find out what is going on,” Running Elk said as he hurried off.

“What do you think has happened?” Dawn asked fearfully.

Cole had his suspicions but didn’t voice them. A few minutes later Running Elk returned, his face set in grim lines. “What is it?” Cole asked anxiously.

“You must leave immediately. The Seventh Cavalry
has been spotted a day’s march away. We must prepare for battle.”

“General Custer,” Cole said slowly, recalling the name of the man in charge of the Seventh Cavalry. He hated to leave but realized he must. In all the time he’d lived with Running Elk, he’d never turned against his own kind. No matter how sympathetic he felt toward the Indian cause, he believed this battle was wrong. There would be no winners no matter who won.

“My prayers go with you,” Cole said. He was torn by the desire to remain and appalled at the thought of the blood that would spill in this place.

He lifted Dawn onto Wally’s back, attached the leading reins of the packhorse to his saddle, and then mounted Warrior. He exchanged a look of complete understanding with Running Elk, then slapped the reins against Warrior’s rump. Dawn dug her heels into Wally’s sides and followed, turning back once to wave at Spring Rain and Sun In The Face.

They camped that night near a stream. Cole made love to Dawn beneath a full moon. She sensed his melancholy, which made their loving poignant and intense. She shared his despair for reasons of her own. Certainly she felt sadness for the People’s plight, but it was her own uncertain future that loomed large and frightening before her. Soothing Cole with her body was the only way she knew to reach out to him. She took him inside her, using their passion for one another as a balm for all their hurts.

Sometime during the following day, June 24, they paused on a ridge and watched as the Seventh
Cavalry thundered toward the Indian encampment. Cole’s face was grim when the last of the soldiers disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“How soon will they reach the Little Big Horn?” Dawn asked.

“It depends. If they ride all night they will arrive at dawn tomorrow. If they stop for the night they won’t arrive until nightfall tomorrow.”

Dawn couldn’t suppress the shudder that passed through her body. “There are so many of them.”

“There are nearly three thousand Indians gathered on the Little Big Horn,” he reminded her. “All we can do is pray that each side will show mercy to the other.”

Five days later they reached Bozeman. The town was in an uproar. Word had arrived that very day about the massacre at the Little Big Horn. General George Custer’s entire Seventh Cavalry had been annihilated by a large force of Sioux and northern Cheyenne, with little loss of life for the Indians. Ignoring his scouts’ warning of overwhelming numbers of Sioux and Cheyenne camped in a huge village on the Little Big Horn, General Custer had ridden to his death.

With feelings running high against Indians, Cole decided not to wait around for a wagon train. He would take no further chances with Dawn’s life. He did not explain to Dawn their need for haste as they rode through town and camped in the hills overlooking Bozeman.

“I’m going back to town for supplies,” Cole said. “We’re not going to wait for a wagon train. The
trail to Oregon is easy to follow. I’ve traveled it before.”

A frisson of fear passed through Dawn. “What is it? Why did we leave town so abruptly? Why don’t you want to wait for a wagon train?”

“You were in town long enough to know what is going on. The People annihilated the Seventh Cavalry. Whites are going to take out their anger on anyone carrying Indian blood.”

Dawn’s eyes widened. “You mean I …”

“They will act first and ask questions later. I don’t know if I could save you once they set their sights on you.” He tried to make her understand without hurting her. “You have Indian blood. That makes you the enemy of people with little tolerance or sympathy for the Indian cause.”

Dawn lowered her head to hide her tears. “Will it always be this way?”

Cole stared at her bent head and wanted suddenly to kill all those who would harm her. He pulled her into his arms. “I fear it won’t change for a very long time.”

She looked up at him. “Do you think Running Elk and the others are safe?”

“We can pray that they survived. Will you be all right here for a few hours? Our supplies need replenishing, and I want to purchase a wagon and oxen. I don’t want to leave you alone any longer than necessary.”

“I’ll be fine. Just hurry back. I don’t like being alone.”

It was true, Dawn realized. It seemed as if she’d been lonely the bulk of her life. She had preferred loneliness to Billy’s company. When he had
sought the safety of the cabin between holdups, she became the victim of his abuse. With Cole as a companion, she knew that even if he didn’t love her she would suffer no abuse, and he would protect her with his life. It wasn’t in Cole’s nature to be abusive to a woman. He could be hard and unyielding, but never would he deliberately hurt her.

“No more than I like leaving you out here unprotected,” Cole replied. “I’ll leave my rifle for you.” He propped the gun against the tree. “I’ll be back by nightfall.”

“What if you’re not?” she asked anxiously.

“I will be,” he said with a determination that eased Dawn’s fears considerably.

After Cole had left, Dawn hunkered down beneath a tree to wait for him. She was so tired. The journey had been exhausting, and this was only the beginning of a much longer trek over mountains and rivers. She didn’t want to dwell on her future once they reached Oregon. She had no idea how long Cole would remain with her. She sighed despondently and rested her head against the tree trunk. She was tired, so tired …

Dawn awoke to dark shadows and a deep sense of fear. She didn’t know how long she’d been sleeping, but darkness had crept in on silent wings while she dozed. She stirred from her lethargy to gather wood and kindling for a fire. She found matches in Cole’s saddlebag and struck a light to the pile of dried grass she’d placed beneath the kindling. Once the fire was blazing nicely, she rummaged through the supplies for fixings to prepare supper. She planned to have a hot meal prepared by the time Cole returned.