Wild Splendor (28 page)

“Is it about Runner?” Sage prodded. “Did you see? The chipmunk has returned and is waiting for Runner to awaken, to play with him.”

“Yes, I saw the chipmunk,” Leonida said, smiling up at him. “But, no, what I have to tell you is not about Runner.”

Sage took Leonida's empty platter and set it down beside his own. He grabbed her hand and urged her to her feet, and laughingly began leading her away from the merriment. It had become more pronounced, with singing and dancing, the thump-thump of a drum setting the beat.

“Where are you taking me?” Leonida asked, her hair billowing out in golden streamers.

“Where we can talk with the moon and the stars,” Sage said, now running in a soft trot, Leonida following his lead. “They will not spread your secret after you tell it to me.”

Leonida ran hand in hand with him until they reached the banks of the river, far from the hogans towering above. It was a private place where all that could be heard were the night sounds of crickets and frogs, and where the lightning bugs' miniature lanterns glowed mysteriously in the dark. It was a place of fragrant pines and wildflowers and of sweet, warm breezes.

Sage put his hands on Leonida's waist and turned her around to face him, then held her close, their bodies straining together. “Now tell me,” Sage said huskily, bending to brush a teasing kiss across her lips. “What is your secret? Do you know that it is not good to keep a secret from your husband?”

“Perhaps not,” Leonida said, shrugging teasingly herself. She trembled with ecstasy and gasped with pleasure as he gathered her skirt up into his hands, bunching it up past her thighs, holding it there with one hand, while his other cupped the center of her desire and thrust a finger within her.

“Tell your husband,” Sage said, caressing her bud of pleasure, then thrusting his finger within her again, slowly, then faster and faster, dizzying her with the splendor that was building within her.

“How can I be expected to remember what it was that I had to tell you if you continue making me mindless?” Leonida said breathlessly. She lay her cheek on Sage's powerful chest and twined her arms around his neck as he gently pushed her to the ground. Her skirt hiked up now, and Sage's breeches lowered, he entered her and began his eager thrusts.

“The secret matters not to me any longer,” he said, his passion rising, his body fluid with fire. “Being with you like this is all there is at this moment. You are the reason I breathe, eat, and even exist. Love me, my wife. Love me.”

“You are my everything,” Leonida whispered back, his pulsing, satin hardness pressing deeper. “And the child will make everything so perfect.”

Sage did not miss a stroke as he took in what she had said. At first he thought she was talking about Runner, but when he reflected for a moment, he realized that she had said that the child
would
make everything perfect. He stopped abruptly, his eyes wide. “Child?” he said, his heart thumping. “What child do you refer to?”

Leonida giggled. She reached for one of his hands and placed it on her tummy. “That child,” she said softly. “The one growing within the walls of my womb. Our child, Sage. Yours and mine.”

The blissfulness of the announcement momentarily rendered him silent. Then he pulled her against him and gave her an excited hug. “We will be true parents this time,” he said. “The child will be borne of our love. It is something so wonderful it is hard to imagine.”

“It is wonderful,” Leonida said, placing her hands on his face and drawing his lips down upon hers. She gave him a sweet kiss, and when he thrust himself within her again, this time he gave her a slow and leisurely kind of loving, and her gasps of pleasure became long, soft whimpers.

Chapter 33

Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double.

—E
LIZABETH
B
ARRETT
B
ROWNING

 

 

 

A fire was burning low in the fire pit. A large black pot hanging over it gave off delicious fragrances of onion, carrots, and various other vegetables cooking with chunks of rabbit mixed in to make a stew.

Outside the hogan, corn, the silks just showing against the sky, was aplenty in the large, communal garden. The seedling peach trees that had been set out in the fertile valley close to the village were sprouting from the soil, the promise of fruit now a reality.

It was early morning. The fire was welcome to Leonida, for the night had been cooler than usual. She was sitting on a mat beside the fire, Runner squatting in front of her with his back to her. She was brushing his hair with a sheaf of straw after having shampooed it with yucca-root suds.

“Ouch,” Runner complained. “You pulled my hair.”

“I'm being as careful as I can,” Leonida murmured. “Just sit still for a moment longer and then you can go and join your friends at play.”

“Please hurry,” Runner whined. “I don't want to play with my friends. I want to go and look for Chips. She's been gone for days and days.”

“Your chipmunk has just gone away long enough to have her babies, and then she'll come back and be your friend again,” Leonida said softly. “And while we're talking about your chipmunk, don't you think it's best to change her name to something more ladylike now that you know she's a she? Chips sounds too boyish to me.”

“I like the name Chips,” Runner said stubbornly. He shrugged. “Anyhow, she doesn't know the difference. She's used to being called Chips. Another name might confuse her.”

Leonida smiled. “Perhaps you're right,” she said, laying her brush aside. She pulled Runner's shoulder-length hair back and tied it in a
Chongo
.

Then she turned him around to face her. “There. It's done,” she said. “You can go now. But don't go far looking for Chips. I cannot tell you often enough about those dangerous cliffs.”

Runner nodded and bounced to his feet. When he started to rush away from Leonida, she grabbed his hand and stopped him.

When he turned around, frowning, she gazed up at him. “Did you hear me clearly enough about not going far?” she said flatly.

“Yes, ma'am,” Runner said, looking soberly down at her. Then his gaze shifted, stopping at the swell of her stomach as it pressed tightly against the inside of her cotton skirt. He fell to his knees and looked up at her for approval. Every day he listened at her stomach to see if he could hear the baby's movements.

Leonida was always touched by his interest. She placed a hand at the back of his head and smiled down at him as he scarcely breathed, his eyes curiously wide. She was well aware of her baby moving around inside her, for her ribs got an occasional kick.

She had to believe that she was going to have a boy. Surely a girl would not be as active or as strong. She recalled one day when she had rested a bowl on her round mound. Suddenly the child kicked so hard inside her, it knocked the bowl to the floor. Another time she had felt the perfect shape of a knee or an elbow. Those times she would cherish in her storehouse of memories forever.

“Do you hear anything?” Leonida murmured. “You'd better watch out,” she then teased. “You'll get kicked.”

Runner giggled.

She moved her hand away from his head as he leaned away from her. “I could hear some strange sort of sounds today,” he marveled.

“Yes, the baby is quite active this morning,” Leonida said, splaying her own fingers over the large ball of her stomach. “It's a wonderful feeling. I know the child is healthy.”

“Will it be a brother or sister?” Runner asked for at least the hundredth time.

“Well, I hope it's a boy,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I wouldn't want a daughter of mine running around with such a name as Chips.”

“You still say I will have a part in naming the child?” Runner asked, his eyes anxiously wide.

“We are a family, aren't we?” Leonida said, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, now tanned almost as copper as the Navaho's. With his dark eyes and raven hair, he did look more Navaho than white. “We will have a family council. We will listen to each other's suggestions. The choice will be a mutual one.”

Runner gave her a beaming smile, then left the hogan in a mad dash.

Her afternoon meal simmering in the pot, her three-room hogan spotlessly clean, Leonida decided to go outside and sit in the shade while she awaited Sage's return. He had left before she rose from their bed, saying that he was making something special for her.

But he had warned her that it was something that she could not use until after the birth of the child.

She was wondering what it could be, thrilled at the thought that he was making her a special gift. Yet didn't he know that it was enough—just to have him?

Feeling so content, Leonida went to the pile of blankets that lay against the wall. Tears pooled in her eyes when her gaze fell on the blanket that Pure Blossom had made for her wedding to Harold. Sage had allowed her to keep it after she had told him that Pure Blossom wished it.

Lifting it, she draped it over her arms, then waddled to her basket in which was stored her basket-making paraphernalia. Carrying these things, she went outside the hogan. After spreading the blanket on the ground, she got as comfortable as it was possible to be in her condition and began working again on a basket, her agile fingers weaving willow stems and yucca leaves together.

She would weave for a while, then rest and gaze around her, eagerly watching for Sage's return. She nodded a quiet hello to those who walked past her, some women carrying basket water bottles pitched with
jicara,
pinyon gum from the river, another bearing an
olla,
or water jug, balancing her awkward burden atop her head. Some women were chasing after children, others were busy at the large communal outdoor fire, where food was always kept over the fire for those who did not want to heat up their hogans too much.

The women of the village were all busily employed. Some were grinding corn with their
metates,
slanted slabs that they used with hand-held stones to break up the hard kernels. Others sat before large looms, weaving brightly colored blankets in bold geometrical designs. While still others worked on smaller belt looms, keeping tension on the warp threads by tying them to a belt worn around the waist.

Beyond that scene of domestic peace stretched the red mesas with their steep gullies and deep canyons. Above arched the pure blue dome of the sky. Sage truly had found a paradise for his people, Leonida thought.

“My wife, the air is dry and sparkling today, is it not?” Sage said, suddenly there beside her, carrying a beautiful saddle.

“Yes, quite.” Leonida said, scarcely audible. She laid her half-made basket aside on the blanket, and slowly pushed herself up from the ground, her eyes never leaving the saddle.

“You like?” Sage said, holding the saddle out for her closer inspection.

“It's lovely,” Leonida said, smiling up at him yet disappointed. She had thought that he was going to present her with his special gift today. Instead it seemed that he had been working on something for himself.

Then she felt guilty for being selfish. She truly would rather him have something than herself.

“The saddle will look beautiful on your chestnut stallion,” she quickly blurted.

“I did not make it for use on my horse,” Sage said, studying the saddle himself, proud of his handiwork.

Then he nudged it closer to her. “It is your gift that I told you about,” he said, smiling broadly. “It is a high-cantled Navaho saddle seat of slung leather over which you will throw a dyed goatskin for travel. As I promised, this was made so that your travels on horse can be more comfortable. Do you like it?”

Stunned by such a manly gift instead of something delicate and feminine, perhaps made out of flowers into a pretty wreath to hang inside her hogan, Leonida was momentarily speechless. Then knowing the hours it had taken to make the saddle, and knowing the love that had gone into it, she reached out and ran her hands over the leather. “It's so soft and smooth,” she murmured. She started to take it from him, but he stopped her.

“It is too heavy for you to lift now, while you are with child,” he said. “But after the child is born, you can lift it onto a horse and ride beside me. I will show you hidden places that will take your breath away.”

“I truly can hardly wait,” Leonida said, looking wide-eyed up at him. “It's been so long since I've gone anywhere but our hogan.”

Then her gaze shifted downward. She placed her hands on her tummy, smiling. “But I mustn't complain. One day soon our child will also see the wonders of our paradise,” she murmured.

Runner came dashing toward them. Sage set the saddle on the ground and met Runner's approach on bent knee. Sage's eyes widened when he discovered what Runner was holding in his hands.

Leonida gasped and knelt down beside Sage as Runner came up to them and showed them his prizes.

“I found Chips,” he said excitedly. “And Chip's babies. Look at them. Count them. There are four of them.”

Leonida blanched. “Darling,” she said, staring down at the tiny things, no larger than a spool of thread. “You shouldn't have taken the babies from their mother. She'll be unhappy, Runner. Shame on you.”

Then her eyes widened when Chips came ambling along. When she reached Runner, she settled down on his moccasined foot, as content as she could be.

“See?” Runner exclaimed loudly. “She is glad to share with me.”

“Perhaps because she has no choice? Is not this something you are forcing on her?” Sage said, patting Runner on the head. “Now take them back where you found them. Leave them there so Chips can feed and care for them. My son, they are not your responsibility. I do not even think you want them to be. They require being fed many times during the day
and
night.”

“Darling, she has her family now, as you have yours,” Leonida said softly. “Let them go and enjoy life as a family, and Runner, don't look for them again. It is in their best interest to live their lives separate from yours.”

Runner sighed, then nodded.

Sage picked Chips up and placed her among her babies in Runner's outstretched hands. “Take them to their home, Runner,” he said in a flat command. “It is best for them.”

“Oh, all right,” Runner said. Then he turned and walked briskly away.

“He has so much to learn about life,” Leonida said as Sage helped her back to her feet. She put her hands on the small of her back and groaned.

She peered down at the saddle again, then smiled over at Sage. “Thank you, darling, for the gift,” she murmured. “I will use it proudly.”

The sound of a horse approaching the hogans from behind drew Leonida and Sage around at the same time. Sage shielded his eyes with his hands, then stiffened. It was Spotted Feather. Sage had been awaiting his scout's return after having sent him away many sunrises ago to investigate the land around them, to see if any intruders were near, and to go on to Fort Defiance.

Sage had made the saddle for Leonida not only because of his devotion to her but also because he had needed to keep his fingers busy to make the days pass more quickly until the scout returned with answers that the chief so badly wanted.

Spotted Feather wheeled his horse to a stop and dismounted. Leading his horse behind him, he went to Sage.

“What news have you brought me?” Sage said, going to clutch Spotted Feather's shoulders.

“The news will give you cause for different emotions,” Spotted Feather said, his gaze stoic. “Some is good. Some is bad.”

Sage's jaw tightened. “Tell me the bad news first,” he said. “Then good news will be even more appreciated.”

“Our Navaho people that surrendered to the white pony soldiers were forced on ‘the long walk' across three hundred miles of barren wastelands and are now on a reservation, confined at Bosque Redondo, in New Mexico, far from their beloved homeland,” Spotted Feather said bitterly. “They are made to live among unfriendly Mescaleros. Where they live now is a flat, colorless region, and they are being forced to eat alien food and to drink bitter water which makes them ill. They are a most miserable people and are constantly pleading with their captors to be allowed to go home.”

A sick feeling swirled in Sage's stomach. “And how do you know this?” he said, his throat tight.

“I cleverly hid away in the bunkhouse at the fort and listened to conversations between the white pony soldiers about our people,” he said thickly. “They laughed at our people, mocking them for being Indian.”

There was a strained silence. Leonida looked up at Sage, feeling bad. The Navaho were a proud and courageous people. How could anyone mock them?

But of course, she knew who would. Ignorant, pitiful fools.

Filled with a deep sadness, bitter and disheartened, Sage wanted to go and release his imprisoned people, but he knew that his efforts would be for naught. They had chosen the road on which they wanted to travel, knowing that at the end of this road they would not find anything akin to happiness.

Sage and his other, most devoted people had chosen theirs. He would not risk the lives of those who had shown their devotion to him and go and release those few who had not trusted his judgment.