Black Horse Read online

  The feeling that someone was staring at him drew Strong Tree’s attention away from the past. He turned around slowly. Even the fading light of day did not hide Long Feather’s unwavering and accusing stare. “Do you have something to say to me?” Strong Tree demanded.

  “If she dies, Black Horse will wage another war between our tribes that will affect many innocent lives.”

  “Since the beginning of Mother Earth there has been a war going on between our tribes.” Strong Tree’s mouth drew into a fierce frown as he turned away from his longtime friend. The disapproving tone in Long Feather’s voice, combined with his accusing stare, did not ease Strong Tree’s torment.

  In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Strong Tree once again mulled over his true reasons for seeking retaliation against Black Horse. He glanced toward Long Feather. This had become a private war that involved only Black Horse and himself. He did not want this private feud to create more problems for his people.

  “I won’t let her die,” Strong Tree said in a gruff voice. He turned toward the still form of the girl. She had not moved since he had dropped her on the ground. A cold chill swept through him, and a sense of urgency made him rush to her side. He rolled her over and studied her ashen face in the nearly obscure light. Her delicate beauty touched his heart. For a moment he truly felt sorry for what he had done to her. But then Shy Deer’s emotionless face intruded into his thoughts.

  He clenched his teeth tightly together and fought back the anger that rose up in him. Shy Deer had not deserved what Black Horse had done to her, either. Strong Tree doubted that the Sioux chief had ever once regretted anything he did to Shy Deer, so why should he care about Black Horse’s woman now?

  “Does she have a fever?”

  Strong Tree jumped at the sound of Long Feather’s voice. He had not heard him approaching. Touching the girl’s forehead, Strong Tree shrugged. “She feels warm.” He rose to his feet and avoided looking at Long Feather. “I will make her comfortable for the night. By morning she will be ready to travel the rest of the way to the village.” He grabbed the fringed pouch that hung around his waist. From the bag he took out a strip of tightly wound leather. The leather strip served many purposes. It could be used for a tourniquet to help stop bleeding, or it could be wound around his head like a headband. He had once used it for a lead rope for his horse. Now, it would bind the girl’s broken ribs.

  Although he was aware of Long Feather’s presence, Strong Tree did not speak to the other man as he unrolled the long leather strip. When he lifted the girl up to a sitting position, Long Feather knelt down beside him and held the girl up while Strong Tree slipped her beaded gown down from her shoulders. The sight of the young white girl’s firm, rounded breasts drew both men’s attention, but neither of them made a comment.

  As Strong Tree began to wind the leather around her ribs, the girl moaned. Her head rolled to the side, and for a moment it seemed as if she was going to regain consciousness. Hope flooded Strong Tree, but it fled almost instantly when she fell limp again. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

  “Bear Woman will make her strong again,” Long Feather said, as if he sensed his friend’s worry.

  Strong Tree nodded, but inwardly he was not so sure. Bear Woman was the wisest woman in their tribe, and she possessed strong medicine, even stronger than most of the Blackfoot medicine men. However, Strong Tree knew that if even one of her broken ribs had punctured something inside of the girl, she might not survive, in spite of Bear Woman’s great healing powers.

  He carefully pulled her beaded gown back up over her shoulders. He had not realized until now that she was wearing a ceremonial gown. For a moment he was not sure what this could mean. Then, like a gust of wind, it hit him: she must have been dressed for her wedding to Black Horse. Did this mean that she was already married to the war chief, or was today to have been her wedding day? Another shiver raced through Strong Tree. He glanced up and noticed that the men who rode with him were standing in a tight group around them. Their obvious expressions of lust told Strong Tree that they had enjoyed the brief exposure of the girl’s body. He glared at them until the warriors backed away, playfully hitting each other and mumbling rude comments about the tempting young captive they had taken today.

  As the night wore on, Strong Tree grew more concerned about the girl. He had tried to force water down her, but he had not been very successful. Most of the water had merely rolled down the sides of her face, and she had nearly choked on the few drops that he had managed to pour down her throat. Occasionally she groaned, but when morning came, she did not even make this small effort. When Strong Tree placed her on the back of his horse for the remainder of the journey to the Blackfoot village, he was not sure if she would survive. The entire group of warriors rode in solemn silence, each seemingly occupied with his own thoughts.

  With the girl cradled in his arms, Strong Tree rode directly to Bear Woman’s tepee. He ignored all the questions called out as he made his way through the maze of tepees. The other warriors who rode with him could tell them the details. The purpose of this raid had been to kidnap Black Horse’s woman, and they had succeeded, which meant there would be a celebration to night. Strong Tree, however, would not be celebrating in the manner that he had originally planned.

  He pulled on the reins and halted his Appaloosa in front of Bear Woman’s tepee. Before he swung down to the ground, his attention was drawn to the woman who had just walked up to his horse. Shy Deer’s brooding face tilted up toward him. Her dark gaze moved to the girl in his arms. Shy Deer made no effort to hide the contempt and jealousy she held for this captive. Her thick lashes narrowed over her flashing black eyes. Strong Tree was once again reminded of the obsession Shy Deer must still harbor for Black Horse.

  “Bear Woman?” Strong Tree called out in a loud voice. He tore his gaze away from Shy Deer’s flushed and angry face. Holding his captive’s limp form, he carefully slid down to the ground. He shifted her weight as he tried to balance himself with the extra burden. He wondered why he had thought this act of revenge would win back Shy Deer’s love and respect. More than likely, having Black Horse’s woman here would only prove once and for all how much Shy Deer still wanted to be with the Sioux chief.

  “Is she sick?” Bear Woman’s deep, gruff voice broke into his tormented thoughts.

  He turned away from Shy Deer’s piercing stare. “She is hurt, Bear Woman, hurt bad.”

  The old woman leaned forward as she looked closer at the girl. Her dry, cracked lips pursed into a heavy frown as she shook her head in a disapproving gesture. Sighing heavily, she turned around and motioned for Strong Tree to follow her into the tepee. The inside of the tepee was hot, and the smell of herbs hung heavy in the air.

  Strong Tree laid the girl down on a bed of elk hides, and then quickly got out of Bear Woman’s way as she knelt down to examine the girl. “Her ribs are broken,” he said.

  “You did this to her?” Bear Woman did not look up at Strong Tree, but surely she could hear the shame in his voice when he answered.

  “I did not realize how hard I grabbed her.”

  “She’s nothing more than a Blackfoot slave now, so why should you care?” The old woman glanced up and her knowing gaze focused on the warrior’s face.

  “True, she is just my slave. But I want her to be strong so that she can serve me in every way.”

  A disgusted huff emitted from Bear Woman. She turned back toward the girl as her gnarled hands began to gently probe the girl’s rib cage. She reached up and laid the back of her hand against the girl’s forehead. “She might die,” she said in a voice that lacked emotion. Her questioning gaze searched Strong Tree’s face. “Will her death ease the anger and pain in your heart?”

  Strong Tree stared down at the old woman. His mouth opened, but no words escaped. Tangled thoughts spun through his troubled mind. He did not want this girl to die. Her death would serve no useful purpose; it would only make Black Horse’s retaliation a
ll the more violent. The Blackfoot warrior hung his head down and stared blankly at the furs that carpeted the floor of the tepee.

  His entire tribe would suffer from his foolish actions—and all for nothing, if she died. He turned away from the accusing stare of Bear Woman. “Do what you can for her,” he muttered as he bent down and pushed through the flap on the doorway.

  The midmorning sun hit him squarely in the eyes. He blinked several times and stepped out into the open. Shy Deer still stood in the same spot. Strong Tree let his gaze meet hers for several silent seconds.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Shy Deer asked, finally breaking the uneasy silence.

  Strong Tree stared at his wife. Her waist-length hair was loose the way he liked it. The dark tresses appeared almost midnight blue in color. Her smooth bronze complexion was flushed, and he noticed her breathing was fast and heavy. The soft doeskin dress she wore rose and fell rapidly over her full breasts with each deep breath she took. He knew every inch of her voluptuous body as well as he knew his own body. But the eyes that watched him now were those of a stranger.

  “Bear Woman says she might die,” he said. Strong Tree saw the way her mouth was tempted to curve into a smile. “That would be good for you,” he added in a snide tone.

  “Why do you say that?” Shy Deer asked. She tilted her head to the side and coyly gazed up at her husband.

  A crude smile curled Strong Tree’s lips. He stepped forward until he was standing directly in front of her. “When Black Horse comes for her, if she is dead, maybe you can take her place.” She did not reply, but merely turned and stomped away from him. He shook his head in disgust. That had been a foolish remark, because Strong Tree knew that when Black Horse showed up to reclaim his woman, he would only be intent on one thing, and that would be killing everyone who got in his way.

  Chapter Twelve

  Back in his tepee, Black Horse still could not shake the strange feeling that something was terribly wrong. He kept reminding himself that White Buffalo was the man who had premonitions and visions. Yet the feeling he had developed down by the river was so strong and frightening that it was impossible for him to ignore.

  With a sense of urgency, Black Horse quickly donned his only other ceremonial shirt. This shirt was not as elaborate as the one he had worn for his wedding yesterday. He had left that shirt and the feathered headdress he had worn somewhere down by the river. The memory of his first night with Meadow filled his mind. A contented smile curved his mouth.

  Pulling on his extra pair of leggings and a clean breechcloth, Black Horse wondered once again what White Buffalo had wanted to talk to Meadow about. He hoped their discussion would not last long, and most of all, he hoped it would not have an adverse effect on their plans to marry today. As he pondered, he quickly brushed his hair with a stiff grass brush until the raven strands were shiny and smooth. He grabbed a long white cotton headband, which he wrapped around his head and then tied, letting the extra material hang down past his shoulders. Once he had tied his belt around his waist and carefully adjusted his knife sheath at his hip, he was once again ready for his second attempt to become a married man.

  With a nervous sigh, he glanced outside. There were no signs of Meadow and White Buffalo. He pushed through the flap and stood out in the warm morning sun. With his arms crossed over his broad chest, he watched the trail coming up from the river until his anxiety threatened to explode inside him.

  He stalked to White Buffalo’s tepee and peeked inside the empty lodge. Briefly, he recalled the sweet kisses he and Meadow had shared there on that first morning they had awoken together in her father’s tepee. Once again he turned in the direction of the trail, but to his dismay, no one emerged from the trees. Perhaps White Buffalo had changed his mind about letting them marry today. Why else would they be gone so long?

  When his patience expired, he stalked back into the forest. If there was not going to be a wedding today, he had to know why!

  Black Horse’s steps lengthened as his heartbeat pounded uncontrollably in his chest. He followed the same path he had followed last night, but when he reached the river he turned and headed up to where they had found White Buffalo earlier this morning. The rock where the medicine man had been sitting was empty.

  A loud stomping sound caught his attention, and he instinctively grabbed for his knife. He turned slowly and stared at the bushes where he had heard the noise. The pounding of his heart almost seemed to cease as he waited for the approaching intruder.

  A relieved chortle escaped him when a bull moose emerged from the bushes and started walking along the riverbank with a leisurely gait. Black Horse’s gaze followed the large, clumsy animal as he moved upriver. As impressive as the big animals were, it had not taken the warriors long to learn that not only were the Canadian moose mean and temperamental, but their meat was not nearly as tasty as the American buffalo that the Sioux so dearly cherished.

  Black Horse saw the moose stop abruptly as if something had startled him; then he turned away from the river and moved toward the forest at a faster pace. Black Horse’s attention was directed away from the moose as he looked toward the area where the moose had stopped before he had been frightened. Something lying on the ground a short distance away caught his eye.

  He stared at the unmoving heap for a moment before his puzzled mind realized that it was White Buffalo. His feet were frozen to the spot where he stood; then he began to run toward the fallen man. He slid to a stop beside him just as he saw the broken arrow protruding from White Buffalo’s chest. The painted markings told Black Horse that the arrow belonged to a Blackfoot. His body grew cold. A strangling knot formed in his throat.

  Black Horse tore his attention away from the medicine man, and, although he did not expect to see her, his frantic gaze scanned the area in search of Meadow. He was sure he would not find her body crumpled on the ground like White Buffalo’s, because he had no doubt what had happened to her. The thought of her being the captive of a Blackfoot was almost more than he could bear.

  Black Horse dropped to his knees beside White Buffalo. He laid one hand against the injured medicine man’s chest and the other hand above his mouth. His breath was faint, and the beating of his heart was weak in his chest. The Blackfoot who had done this to White Buffalo, and especially the one who had taken his woman captive, would not live to see another day once he caught up to them!

  The sound of his tormented cry echoed through the trees as Black Horse approached the village with White Buffalo in his arms. Those who heard the sound rushed out to meet him.

  “What happened?” Walks Tall called out as he ran to the edge of the village.

  “Blackfoot.” Black Horse gratefully accepted Walks Tall’s help when the other man easily hoisted the limp form of White Buffalo into his own arms. Walks Tall had earned his name. Not only was he taller than any of the other men in the tribe, but he was as strong as a grizzly.

  “How did this happen?”

  “Meadow has been taken captive,” Black Horse said in a breathless tone. “I’m going after her.” He did not waste time talking. The Blackfoot could not be more than a mile or two away, and so he would not need anything more than his weapons and his horse. He should be able to catch up with them before the morning had faded into afternoon.

  The villagers besieged Black Horse with more questions as he passed. He did not take time to answer them. From his tepee, he grabbed his rifle, his bow and the quiver that held his arrows, a halter and a blanket for his horse. He glanced briefly at the white marriage blanket that was lying on the furs of his bed. It could not end this way…He would not allow it!

  When he stepped back outside, he glanced down and noticed that his shirt was soaked with White Buffalo’s blood. He felt the stickiness against his skin, and a feeling as cold as the northern wind blew through him. It did not look good for the old man. He clenched his teeth together so tightly that they hurt as he thought about Meadow’s fate. She would suffer the same treatment at her captor
’s hands that his Blackfoot captive, Shy Deer, had endured when he had kidnapped her. But that had been different. Shy Deer had been willing—even the first time—and he knew that Meadow would rather die than let a Blackfoot have his way with her. He could not let this happen.

  As he had been taught throughout his strict training as a Sioux warrior, he cleared his head of all thoughts that could distract him from his goal. He would not think about where the blood on his shirt had come from, or what could be happening to his woman at this very moment. His sole thought would be to recapture her, and once he knew that she was safe, he would see to it that the men who had taken her would never take another breath.

  As he headed toward the area where the Sioux ponies were corralled, Black Horse saw White Buffalo being carried into his own tepee. Several of the older women were following him inside so that they could care for the injured shaman with his own mixtures of herbs and powders.

  Black Horse bent down and ducked under the crude corral that was constructed of lodgepole pines. His horse—a large black and white paint—could easily be spotted among the other horses. The ponies whinnied and began to move around the enclosure restlessly. Black Horse’s stallion, Dusya, pranced back and forth at the far end of the corral. He watched his master approach from the side of his eye as he tossed his head in a defiant manner.