The Spirit Path (9 page)

Maggie frowned. Were all the Indian women blind? “Why?” she asked. “Why haven’t you married?”

Hawk looked at Maggie, at her curly black hair and deep blue eyes, eyes that touched the depths of his heart, and knew, for the first time, why none of the Lakota maidens had appealed to him, why he’d never courted any of the women who had made it known they found him desirable. He was in love with the Spirit Woman, had been since he first saw her face in vision.

“Mag-gie.” He whispered her name and then, very gently, he cupped her face between his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

Slowly, gradually, the pressure of his lips, and the beat of her heart, increased until she was clinging to him, drinking from his lips as one who was dying of thirst might drink from the fount of life.

She felt his hands move in her hair and she twined her arms around his neck, reveling in his touch, his nearness. Too long, she thought, it had been too long since she’d been held in a man’s arms, too long since she’d let anyone get close to her, physically or emotionally.

She was breathless when he drew away. Breathless and embarrassed. One kiss and she reacted like a wanton. One little kiss and she was ready to melt in his embrace. But she would not, could not! All her life she’d held her emotions in check, refusing to be like the other girls she knew, girls who slept with a guy just because he was cute, or sexy-looking or because he drove a nice car. She’d wanted more out of life than just a good time, a quick thrill. She’d wanted love and romance and happy ever after. She still did, even though it was no longer possible.

“Spirit Woman.” His voice was low and husky, his breathing erratic.

“Please, I…take me home.”

“Do not be afraid of me, Mag-gie. I will not shame you.”

But it wasn’t Hawk she was afraid of, it was her reaction to his kiss. One kiss and she was on fire for a man she hardly knew. It was too much, too fast, and it frightened her. “Please, Shadow Hawk, take me home.”

“As you wish.”

She held herself as far away from him as possible on the long ride down the hill. She was getting too fond of him and she had to stop it now before it was too late. She was too old for him and he was too much of a man for her. He deserved a whole woman, not a useless cripple.

As soon as he put her in her chair she went to her room and closed the door, hiding from Shadow Hawk as much as from herself, finally seeking escape in sleep. But he followed her there as well, and in her dreams they walked together in the sun and she wasn’t afraid anymore.

Naked, Shadow Hawk and Bobby sat across from each other inside a sweat lodge made from the poles and tightly woven branches of a pine tree.

Bobby had been embarrassed at first. He had never done such a thing before, but Shadow Hawk had shed his clout and moccasins without the slightest hesitation.

And no wonder. Shadow Hawk had a powerful physique, Bobby thought with more than a trace of envy. He wasn’t all arms and legs and thin as a sapling. Then and there Bobby vowed to begin working out. He’d seen the way Miss St. Claire looked at Hawk, her eyes filled with admiration. He’d even seen Veronica staring at Hawk, and she was old enough to be his mother!

Now, he looked at Shadow Hawk expectantly, feeling anxious and excited as Hawk prepared the pit that would hold the heated stones, listening carefully as Hawk explained the purpose of the
hanbelachia
and the smoothed trail, then placed tiny bundles of tobacco on the vision hill. They had no sacred pipe, but Hawk had made a pipe that he hoped would serve the same purpose. It rested on the sacred hill, its stem facing east.

They had persuaded Veronica to help them, and when all was ready, Shadow Hawk called to her to pass in the first four stones. Then, as he had seen Heart-of-the-Wolf do, Shadow Hawk took the pipe and touched the stem to one of the stones.

“All winged creatures,” he murmured, for his power came from the hawk. With great ceremony, he passed the pipe to Bobby, who puffed it four times before he passed it back, each of them taking turns puffing on the pipe until the tobacco was gone.

“All winged creatures,” Shadow Hawk murmured again, and tossed a spoonful of cold water on the stones.

As steam filled the lodge, Shadow Hawk began to chant the sacred songs, imploring the Great Spirit to purify their hearts and minds, to cleanse their souls.

Eyes closed, he prayed for health and strength, for wisdom for himself and for Bobby. And as he prayed, he saw Heart-of-the-Wolf standing beside him, heard the old medicine man’s voice assuring him that his mother was well, reminding him to follow the Life Path of the Lakota, and to teach the young warrior to do the same.

Slowly, Shadow Hawk opened his eyes. Bobby was sitting across from him, a look of bewilderment on his face.

“What is it?” Shadow Hawk asked.

“I saw an old man,” Bobby replied. “His skin was lined with the passage of many years, his hair was streaked with gray, and he wore a buffalo horn headdress.”

“Heart-of-the-Wolf,” Hawk murmured.

“Did you see him?”

“Yes.”

“Did he speak?” Bobby asked, leaning forward.

“He reminded me to always walk in the Life Path of the Lakota. And to teach you to do the same.”

Bobby swallowed hard. “I heard the same words.”

“I know.”

Bobby’s eyes grew wide. “He spoke to both of us?”

Shadow Hawk nodded. He had shared Bobby’s vision and seen one of his own. He had seen Heart-of-the-Wolf standing outside the Sacred Cave, had heard the old man’s voice speaking to him, the words soft yet clear.

It is not yet time,
the old medicine man had said.
Only be patient and you will again be reunited with our people.

It gave Hawk a sense of peace to know that Heart-of-the-Wolf was still watching over him, that he was not alone in a strange land after all.

“When will I seek a vision?” Bobby asked.

“In two days time. You must go alone to the hills, unarmed and unafraid. You must open your heart and your soul, your whole being, if you wish to hear the voice of
Wakán Tanka
. You must make an offering of tobacco or pollen to the earth and the sky and to the four directions. And you must listen, not with your ears, but with your heart and your soul. And you must not doubt.”

Bobby nodded. He had known Shadow Hawk only a short time, yet he felt the greatness of the other man, the inner strength and self-confidence. He had seen few men on the reservation he wanted to emulate, but Shadow Hawk was a man who inspired his trust.

Maggie’s feelings grew more confused with each passing day. She tried to shut Hawk out of her life, tried to pretend that she didn’t care for him at all, that his kiss hadn’t warmed the innermost part of her being. In time, he would leave her, just as Susie had left her, as Frank had left her. It was better not to care at all than to risk being hurt again.

But Hawk refused to be shut out of her life. As fast as she built walls, he tore them down. Usually it took only a smile, or the sound of his voice, and barriers she’d thought made of stone melted like snow in the sunshine.

Sometimes she thought it was all a dream, that his presence was just a figment of her all too active imagination. And sometimes it seemed like Hawk had always been there, sitting across from her at the kitchen table, making her smile. She tried not to let him get close to her, tried to keep him away, but he had only to look at her through those fathomless dark eyes, speak her name in that voice like crushed black velvet, and she was lost.

She found herself taking more pains with her appearance, wearing long skirts and frilly blouses instead of jeans and a sweatshirt. Instead of tying her hair back in a ponytail to keep it out of her face, she let it fall free around her shoulders because he had once remarked that he liked it that way.

One night, while they were sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace, she told Hawk about Susie, accusing herself of being negligent, foolish, a murderer, pounding on his chest with her fists as all the old pain and rage washed through her. He had let her scream, he had let her cry, and all the while he had held her in his arms, impervious to the blows she rained upon him, whispering that it hadn’t been her fault, that it had been an accident, that her sister had died and she had lived because the Great Spirit had wanted it that way.

Maggie didn’t believe him, didn’t think she could ever forgive herself for what had happened, and yet, after that night, the nightmares that had intermittently haunted her dreams faded and she felt an inner sense of peace and acceptance.

Hawk had won Veronica’s affection, as well. She cooked his favorite dinner, steak and fried potatoes, at least once a week, and because he had an insatiable sweet tooth, there was always chocolate in the house, be it cake or brownies or pie, and sometimes all three.

Bobby idolized Hawk, imitating the way he walked, trying to copy the soft way he spoke, following Hawk around the ranch whenever he went outside.

So quickly, Maggie thought, so easily he had become a part of all their lives. How would she ever let him go?

* * * * *

It was on a cool cloudy morning when Bobby left on his vision quest. Clad only in a clout that his brother had sent him from the reservation, he vaulted onto the back of a long-legged gray gelding and rode off toward the Hills, carrying nothing but a small sack of corn pollen and a blanket.

Shadow Hawk stood outside watching Bobby ride away.

Maggie sat at her bedroom window watching them both. For a moment, she closed her eyes, praying that Bobby would find what he was looking for.

When she opened her eyes again, Hawk was still standing outside, his arms raised toward heaven, his head thrown back. Quietly, she opened the window, listening unabashedly to the sound of his voice, deep and rich, as he offered a prayer to
Wakán Tanka
.

“He, the Father of us all, has shown His mercy unto me. In peace will I walk the straight road. He has made the earth and the trees, the rocks and all living things. This day is good. May this be the day I consider mine. Let all creatures be glad. Let all the earth sing.”

After a moment, he lowered his arms to his sides and then, slowly, he turned around to face her.

Maggie blushed, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping on something as personal as a prayer. But Hawk didn’t seem angry to find her watching him. Instead, he smiled as he walked toward her bedroom window. Opening it all the way, he climbed over the low sill.

“Hawk, what are you doing?”

“Taking you to breakfast,” he said, and lifting her from her chair, he carried her down the hall into the kitchen where Veronica was scrambling eggs and frying bacon.

“Morning,” Veronica said, apparently unconcerned at the sight of her employer being carried into the kitchen in the arms of a man who was not her husband. “Breakfast is ready.”

Shadow Hawk placed Maggie in one of the kitchen chairs, then sat down across from her. She looked especially pretty this morning. Her hair was unbound, falling free over her shoulders just the way he liked it, and he wondered fleetingly, hopefully, if she’d left it down to please him. She wore a flowing robe of some soft blue material that matched her eyes, and he thought he might willingly give up all the battle honors he had earned as a warrior if he could look upon her face each morning of his life.

Maggie felt the heat wash into her cheeks as Hawk smiled at her, his dark eyes warm. She smiled back at him, thinking how much more pleasant mornings had become since Hawk had arrived. He took such pleasure in eating that it made her enjoy her own food more. He seemed to have a limitless appetite and it had become a contest to see if Veronica could prepare more food than he could eat. This morning he wolfed down half a dozen pancakes, five strips of bacon, three eggs and three cups of coffee.

Veronica grinned as she began to clear the table. “I thought that boy Bobby ate a lot,” she mused, “but Shadow Hawk takes the cake.”

“Cake,” Hawk said. “You are baking again today?”

“Seems like I bake
every
day since you showed up.”

“And it’s beginning to show,” Maggie said, patting her stomach. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds in the last couple of weeks.”

“Looks good on you,” Veronica retorted. “You were too thin.”

Maggie made a soft sound of disagreement. “You know what they say, you can’t be too rich or too thin.”

Hawk sat back in his chair. He had come to enjoy the easy banter between the two women, just as he’d come to enjoy being the center of attention. In the village there hadn’t been much time to just sit back and relax. He’d spent many hours with Heart-of-the-Wolf, learning the ancient chants and healing skills of the Lakota. And because he was well liked by the other warriors, he was always invited to go along on a hunt or a raid. Though still a young man, he had been considered wise beyond his years and many of the young men had come to him seeking advice.

After breakfast, Veronica helped Maggie into the bathtub, then went into the laundry room to put in a load of wash. Alone, Hawk wandered through the house and then, on an impulse, he went into Maggie’s room and sat in her wheelchair. He thought of the years she had been imprisoned in the chair by her inability to walk, and tried to imagine what it would be like if he were crippled. Would he want to live if he couldn’t chase the buffalo across the vast sunlit prairie, or feel the wind in his face as he raced Ohitika across the plains? Would life be worth living if he couldn’t stalk the wily elk, or stand beside Red Arrow and Crooked Lance to fight against the Pawnee?

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, breathing in the faint scent that was Maggie’s alone. Sitting there, his hands fisted around the arms of the wheelchair, he seemed to feel Maggie’s essence surround him. He felt her loneliness, the emptiness in her life. She was a beautiful woman, vibrant and alive. She should have a husband to cherish her, children to love. With all his heart, he wished he possessed the power to restore the strength to her legs, that he had the gift of healing that would allow her to walk again.

He looked up, feeling a little sheepish, as Veronica entered the room.

“It’s all right,” Veronica said. “We all do it.”

“Is there nothing that will help her?”

“The doctor says she could walk if she wanted to.”

Hawk ran his hands over the big black wheels. “I do not understand. If she can walk, why does she stay in this chair?”

“It’s her guilt that keeps her there,” Veronica explained. “The doctor says she feels responsible for her sister’s death and that her refusal to walk is her way of punishing herself.”

Shadow Hawk frowned. “I do not understand.”

“I don’t either. But when she wants to walk badly enough, she will. Now, I need the chair.”

Wordlessly, Hawk stood up, wondering what he could do to make Maggie want to walk again.

Shadow Hawk stood alone under a starlit sky, his head back as he gazed at the heavens. For a moment he thought of his people, his mother, wondering what had happened to them, frustrated because there was nothing he could do to help. Thinking of them, worrying about them, availed him nothing. He would go back to the cave when the moon was full and hope he could return to his people.

He let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes, his spirit reaching out to Bobby. The boy had been gone for three days and Shadow Hawk yearned to know if he was well, if
Wakán Tanka
would grant the young man a vision.

Standing there, he heard the wind whispering through the pines that covered the Black Hills. He heard the gentle swoosh of wings as an owl skimmed the air in search of prey, heard the rustle of underbrush as a deer made its way toward a shallow pool to drink. His nostrils filled with the fragrant scent of the pines, of freshly turned earth where a skunk had dug a hole for the night. He felt the caress of the night wind on his cheek. And then, eyes still closed, he saw Heart-of-the-Wolf. The old man was dressed in white buckskins. White moccasins covered his feet. A single white feather adorned his hair, a thin slash of white paint bisected his left cheek.

As from far away, Hawk seemed to hear the sound of drums. He heard the rapid beat of an eagle’s wings, and then Heart-of-the-Wolf was speaking to him.

Bobby Running Horse will now be known as Proud Eagle. It is because of you, Shadow Hawk, that this young warrior’s dreams will come true. You have given him a new sense of pride in our people; you have set his feet on the Life Path of the Lakota. From this day forward, the Eagle will follow the Hawk.

The words were so clear that Hawk opened his eyes, expecting to see Heart-of-the-Wolf standing beside him.

Instead, he saw Maggie coming toward him, her wheelchair enveloped by a bright shaft of moonlight that seemed to follow her as she crossed the yard toward him.

For a moment, Hawk stared at her, the woman of his vision. Was she flesh and blood? Or a Spirit Woman he had summoned from the depths of his heart?

“Are you all right?” Maggie called softly. “You’ve been out here a long time.”

“I am fine.”

He couldn’t take his eyes from her face. Shafts of silvery moonlight caressed her skin and danced in her hair, and suddenly he knew he must hold her or die.

He crossed the distance between them in three quick strides. Lifting her from the chair, he cradled her to his chest, afraid to hold her too tightly for fear of hurting her, afraid to let her go for fear she would vanish from his sight.

“Hawk…”

Slowly, he lowered his head toward hers, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was infinitely tender.

Maggie drew back, frightened by the power of his touch, intoxicated by the mere taste of his lips. Had he been as shaken, as moved, by what had just happened as she was?

She had a quick image of Hawk surrounded by women, beautiful Indian maidens with dark luminous eyes and smooth tawny skin.

“Have you kissed many girls?” Maggie asked brashly, and then wondered whatever had possessed her to ask such a question.

Hawk gazed down at her, his dark eyes alight with a fierce inner fire. “You are the first.”

She couldn’t hide her smile. “Truly?”

“Truly.” His mouth descended on hers again, his kiss more ardent this time.

And Maggie kissed him back. She forgot all her fears, all her arguments that he was too young, that she was too old. Wrapping her arms around Hawk’s neck, she forgot all about Frank and how much he’d hurt her, and thought only of the pleasure of Hawk’s mouth moving over hers. Boldly, she traced his lips with her tongue, heard his low groan, felt a tremor ripple through his body as his arms tightened around her and his tongue singed hers.

Thrilled by the rough magic of his touch, she tightened her hold on his neck, wanting to be closer, closer. She tangled one hand in his hair, loving the way it felt against her skin. He had beautiful hair. Long and thick, it fell to his waist like a black waterfall.

She closed her eyes as his lips moved over her face, placing light butterfly kisses on her eyes and nose, her cheeks and forehead, before returning to her mouth. She’d never known a kiss could be so intoxicating, or so arousing. She was warm all over, especially where his body touched hers.

Hawk began to tremble as their kisses grew deeper, more intimate, more impassioned. Her scent rose all around him, warm and womanly, inflaming his desire. Her skin was smooth and soft as new grass, her hair tickled his cheek, he could feel the heat of her breast against his arm. She tasted of apple pie and coffee laced with cream and he knew he’d never taste either again without remembering this moment when he stood in the moonlight with the woman of his dreams cradled to his chest.

Maggie let her head fall back over Hawk’s arm so she could see his face. His eyes were like black pools of fire. His lips, slightly parted, issued a silent invitation and she placed her hand behind his head and drew him toward her, wanting to savor the taste of him again and again.