Brave Heart

“You are not going to take her with you.”

Wolf looked up from where he knelt at Cante Tinza’s side, now acutely aware of his hand on her shoulder. He held it there in a protective gesture when he saw the chief, Badger Mouth, approach him with a disapproving look on his face. The chief, more than sixty seasons in age, halted and glowered at him, hardening his weathered face. His words were an order, not a question. Around them, the warriors were helping the injured women and children to mount the extra horses, and none seemed interested in coming to Black Wolf’s aid.

“She saved the lives of our women,” Wolf countered in an equally authoritative tone.

“So Evening Star says,” the chief groused. He stood with the lance in his left hand, staring toward the south. “That sister of yours is like a blue jay, constantly chattering. All I heard riding here is that the red-haired wasicun saved our women and children from sure death.”

“She is a warrioress.“ Wolf grew sure of that as he had time to study her thin, bony features. Her forehead was broad and unmarred, her eyebrows arched like the curve of a hawk’s wing, and she had a small, dainty nose with flaring nostrils. Although she was unconscious, her lovely mouth was pulled in at the corners, indicating the level of pain she suffered even now. There was a vulnerability to Cante Tinza, and Wolf found himself wanting to draw her from the darkness she resided within and bring her into light. Each moment he spent with her increased his questions as to who she was and what she was doing with the miners. She couldn’t have been friends with the miners if she defended the Lakota women against them, he guessed. In his heart, he sensed that she’d been injured by them. Why? He had to have time to find out after she regained consciousness.

Badger Mouth snorted, watching through squinted eyes as the last of his warriors mounted. “You ought to leave her for buzzard bait just as we leave the other wasicun to them.”

“Even our enemy, the Crow, would not leave a woman to die in this manner.“ Women were held sacred in the eyes of the Indians, no matter what their tribe.

The chief glared at Wolf, his hand tightening on the staff topped with the skin of a badger. “It would go better in the village if she was Crow.”

That was true, Wolf acknowledged. They had captured Crow women who, over the years, had decided to stay in their village and not return to their home. The Lakota women had come to accept them as their own, with time. “Little Swallow feels she has been tortured at the hands of these miners.”

“She is wasicun, Black Wolf.”

Slowly lifting his hooded eyes, Wolf held the chief’s challenging stare. “No,” he whispered, “first, she is woman. We Lakota recognize the strength and courage of our women. She is one who gives us birth, who gives us life through the milk that flows from her breast, and who is able to give her blood back to Mother Earth every moon. As men, we can do none of these things, making us less important. We have nothing to compare to a woman’s sacredness.”

Irritated knowing that Wolf spoke the truth, Badger Mouth muttered, “Do what you want. You will anyway. But remember this, she is wasicun and, therefore, trouble. What of Deer Woman?”

“She lays claim to my heart, but I have told her that she pines for the wrong warrior. She does not hold my heart.“ Wolf slid his hands beneath Cante Tinza’s small shoulders and long, curved thighs, lifting her upward. As her head lolled against her chest, something old and hurting broke loose in Wolf’s chest. In the past four seasons, his heart had been cruelly torn with the loss of half his family at the hands of the greedy wasicuns who killed for the gold metal that peppered the Black Hills. As Cante Tinza’s cheek pressed against the region of his aching heart, he felt comfort for the first time since then.

“Ho! You make yourself twice as much trouble, Black Wolf. Deer Woman won’t take kindly to this wasicun sharing your robes and tepee,” Badger Mouth scolded.

Walking carefully toward his ebony mare, Wolf ignored the chief’s warning. Deer Woman was an eighteen-year-old maiden who had fallen madly in love with him years ago. He’d never invited her affections, yet she constantly hinted that she’d like to be his wife. He wanted a mature woman for a wife—not a child in a woman’s body. Swift Elk, a brave who had yet to count coup, could marry her, he told himself. He was as young as she, and pined equally to have Deer Woman for his wife, yet she foolishly spurned his advances.

“I will take this woman as I would any injured person into my lodge for care,” Wolf reminded the chief sharply. One of the older warriors, Tall Crane, held the woman as Black Wolf mounted Wiyaka. Wolf saw Tall Crane’s reaction to Cante Tinza as he patiently held her, waiting to transfer her to Wolfe’s arms once again. Did she have the ability to break down hated barriers with just her small form and fiery hair? Taking the woman from Tall Crane, Wolf settled her across his thighs, her body leaning against his.

“Who is she?“ Tall Crane wanted to know.

“A stranger.“ In more ways than one, Wolf thought wryly.

“Do you intend to keep her?”

“As a prize of war?”

“Yes.”

Wolf saw Tall Crane’s unbridled interest in the woman. Less than two seasons ago, he had lost his wife and son to an attack by the Crow. Since then, the warrior had been lonely, and in need of a family again. Although Tall Crane was well thought of in the village, and a good hunter, Wolf felt suddenly protective of Cante Tinza. “She is mine.”

A sly smile crossed Tall Crane’s ample features, his chocolate eyes dancing with amusement. “Ah, so the wapiya finally takes a woman. Many maids will have their hearts broken to see you ride into the village with this red-haired one in your arms as your chosen mate. No doubt you will train her in the medicine ways to help our people?”

Uncomfortable at the prospect of all the problems Cante Tinza would cause him because of his unexpected decision, Wolf glanced over at the gangling warrior, who rode a bay gelding. “If her hair is any sign, she will do exactly as she wants.”

Laughing heartily, Tall Crane slapped Wolf on the back. “Well stated, my friend. A woman with hair the color of fire. Are you blessed or cursed, I wonder?”

Wolf wasn’t sure. “She may not live long enough for either of us to know that answer.”

Sobering, Tall Crane nodded. “Evening Star said she is a warrioress. I honor her for that. I do not care if she has white skin. If she helped save our women and children, then I consider her one of us.”

Wolf glanced over at him. “Half the village will hate and distrust her. The other half will be wooed by her red hair, just as you have been.”

“I cannot deny it.“ Tall Crane frowned. “Deer Woman will take your decision with great sorrow.”

The sweet, innocent face of Deer Woman danced before Wolf’s eyes. “She is a child.”

“But with the body and desires of a woman.”

Grimacing, Wolf said, “I have laid no claim to her. I have made that clear to the chief, and to her family.”

Picking at the bay’s black mane disinterestedly, Tall Crane said, “Sometimes our heart chooses of its own accord, despite what our head tells us.”

In that moment, Wolf hurt for his friend. Tall Crane deeply loved his wife and daughter. In a Crow attack by One Feather, ten Lakota had been slaughtered. Even now, he could see the grief in Tall Crane’s dark eyes. “There are four maids who look for husbands now in our village. Can you not soothe your heart with one of them?“ Wolf asked quietly.

Patting his mount’s neck, Tall Crane shrugged. “None stirs my heart. I would do these fine maids an injustice by pretending otherwise.“ A sparkle came to his eyes. “Now, this red-haired one stirs me. She interests me.”

A slight smile softened the line of Wolf’s thinned mouth. “There is spirit and courage in this one,” he agreed.

“I honor your choice, my friend.“ And then the spark died in Tall Crane’s eyes. “But be careful. There are many who will hate her if she survives.”

“If you speak of Deer Woman’s reaction…I find her incapable of hurting anything or anyone.”

“She is as gentle as a butterfly,” Tall Crane agreed, “but do not be dissuaded by her demeanor. Thus far, no one has challenged her claim on you.”

“Deer Woman will be disappointed, but she would never lift a hand in anger toward me or this red-haired one.“ There were too many other concerns for Wolf to think about. The village had to be moved immediately. The women and children injured in the attack would need continued care and attention.

“I do not envy your position, Wolf. Your responsibilities are many besides having a heartbroken maid plus an enemy sleeping in your tepee. Be on guard.”

Secretly, Wolf acknowledged Tall Crane’s wisdom. Looking down at Cante Tinza, he prayed to White Buffalo Calf Woman to spare her life, to bring her back to the realm of the living. Then, another thought struck him. When she did regain consciousness, how would she react to being taken in by him and his people?

* * *

A low, gentle chant filled with emotion rippled through Serena’s awareness. The throbbing in her head gradually faded as she focused on the man’s voice. He sang in a language she’d never heard before, and yet the very tone wove a fragile web around her groggy state, holding her, comforting her.

She struggled to awaken, to pull from the darkness holding her captive. There was light in his song, and more important, her heart revolved toward him, toward the gentle, soothing tones. Gradually Serena became aware of her fingers. She flexed first one, and then another, realizing she was still alive. Flashes of the miners attacking the women and children surfaced. Each time a flash of memory hit her, her stomach knotted in unadulterated fear. And then she would cling wildly to the chanting song, finding a haven of calm within the melody.

Wolf smiled down at his three-month-old niece as he placed her into the beautifully beaded cradleboard. Softening the lullaby he sang to Dawn Sky, he watched as the baby’s eyes drooped until they closed. The darkness within the tepee was alleviated by a small fire in the center. Smoke rose in lazy wisps toward the opening at the top of the huge lodge. Something prompted Wolf to look across the expanse to where Cante Tinza lay beneath the buffalo robe.

Rising silently, he covered Dawn Sky with a small deerskin blanket and made his way to the red-haired one’s side. Four days she’d been unconscious. Would she awaken, or die soon? He wasn’t sure. Placing his broad palm against her cheek, he noticed her brow was marred with a frown. Easing the frown from her flesh with his fingers, he lightly caressed the rich crown of her copper and gold hair.

“Come back, Cante Tinza,” he called softly in his own language. Picking up one of Dawn Sky’s deer rattles, he shook it gently. He moved it from the top of her head slowly toward her feet. Although a child’s toy, it was also used to heal a baby or an adult from grievous emotional wounds. Black Wolf placed his palm inches above the region of her heart and felt heat. That meant she carried terrible wounds to her emotional spirit, which had to be healed in order to make her want to live and not walk across the Rainbow Bridge.

The flickering fire bathed her face in shadow and light. Wolf brought the rattle full circle over her, singing a chant that invited her broken spirit back to this realm. The song came from his heart, and he allowed all his tightly suppressed emotions for his dead family to surface. Closing his eyes, he visualized himself pulling Cante Tinza back from the Rainbow Bridge, pleading with her to return to the here and now.

Serena focused on the man’s voice, which wrapped itself around her heart and soul. The emotion wrenched at her, and she felt herself moving toward some indistinct golden light that seemed so far away to her. The chant was filled with hope, and she felt her heart burst open, spilling out all of its deeply hidden misery. She felt her eyes fill with the warmth and life of tears, which then spilled silently down her cheeks. Serena struggled, fighting to surface, to pull away from the darkness.