Black Horse Page 4

  Meadow wanted to believe her friend, but there were so many mixed emotions clouding her thoughts. Since she knew nothing other than the desperate plight of the Indians she had lived among for almost her entire life, and because of the horrors she had witnessed due to the white man’s hatred for the Indian race, she had been able to rationalize the tragic events that had brought her to the Sioux village all those years ago.

  White Buffalo had told her that her real family had been traveling with a wagon train that was headed west. Just days before the attack on the wagons, white soldiers had massacred an entire Sioux village less than thirty miles away. Most of the Sioux who had been killed were women, children and elderly men. The Sioux retaliation against the wagon train was as senseless as the soldiers’ actions against the defenseless Sioux village.

  Several years ago, Meadow had asked her adoptive mother if there had been other captives taken from the wagon train. Little Squirrel had told her that there had been several other children, along with a couple of young women. When she’d asked Little Squirrel what had happened to them, the older woman had replied, “Sometimes, the things we do not know are best kept that way.”

  She often wondered if White Buffalo and Little Squirrel would have felt the same toward her if their own children had lived. Sadly, both of their offspring—a three-year-old son and an infant girl—had died of smallpox many years before Meadow’s capture. They had not been blessed with any other children. When she had been brought to their village, White Buffalo and Little Squirrel had made her a member of their family in the Making Relatives Ceremony. After smoking from a sacred pipe, sharing food and praying to Wakan Tanka, the adoption had been complete. Meadow had no doubt that her life would have been drastically different if it had not been for White Buffalo and his dear wife, Little Squirrel.

  As Meadow had grown up in her adopted Indian world, she was constantly made aware of why the Indians were forced to react so violently: they were losing their homelands, their families and even their heritage. The only thing the whites had not yet stolen away from them was their dignity.

  Now, for the first time, Meadow wondered why she had not been killed with the rest of her family. “Gentle Water,” she said in a low tone, “I’m just realizing that I don’t know who—or what—I am. I’m not Sioux, but yet I don’t feel anything like a white woman, either. I suddenly feel like an outcast with all people.”

  Gentle Water tightened her hold on Meadow’s hand. “I feel terrible that my careless words have caused you so much pain. Next to my grandmother, you are the person I love the most. You have more than proven your loyalty to our people, so I do not understand why some members of the tribe would care if Black Horse takes you as his wife. I think they are just jealous.”

  Meadow clutched her friend’s hand in the dark tepee. She did not doubt White Buffalo’s love, or Gentle Water’s either, but she wasn’t sure how she would ever feel at ease with the rest of the tribe, now that she knew that they did not accept her completely.

  “It does not matter anyway,” Meadow said. “I will never be Black Horse’s wife, so there is no need for anyone to worry. He is still free to marry one of his own kind. When my father suggested this, and when Black Horse accepted, they had probably drunk far too much whiskey. I’m sure that once they are both thinking clearly again, they will realize that White Buffalo’s suggestion is not possible, and then this whole crazy thing will be forgotten.”

  Gentle Water sighed heavily before answering. “Perhaps you are right about your father, but I don’t think Black Horse is that drunk. Anyway, for now, you must obey your father and come to the celebration.”

  “Yes,” Meadow agreed. “You go on ahead, and I’ll come as soon as I change into my ceremonial gown.” She squeezed Gentle Water’s hand reassuringly. “I will come, I promise.”

  Gentle Water hesitated for a moment. “I can help you get ready.”

  “If you don’t trust me, I guess—” Meadow began in a hurt tone.

  Gentle Water released her hold on Meadow’s hand. “I trust you, and I will go back and tell your father that you will be there soon.” The two girls stood up together and hugged affectionately.

  “Thank you,” Meadow said as she pushed Gentle Water toward the opening in the tepee. She watched as the girl ducked through the doorway, then followed her out into the open. Wrapping her arms around herself, Meadow watched until Gentle Water disappeared from her sight. A heavy feeling settled in her chest—she hated lying to her best friend. But she could not go to the celebration to night.

  Off in the distance, where the celebration was taking place, she could see the spiral of smoke rising up above the tops of the tepees. The delicious aroma of the roasted buffalo still filled the entire area, and she could hear the pulsating beat of the drums. She could envision the members of the tribe dancing with abandon around the fire pit. A part of her longed so much to join them, to laugh and dance and gorge herself on the delicious meat. She wanted to forget about Black Horse, and most of all she wanted to forget about the things that Gentle Water had told her. How would she be able to go on living contentedly among these people, knowing that they judged her by the color of her skin?

  A deeper ache lodged itself in Meadow’s breast. Of all the things she had worried about throughout the years—ambush, starvation, disease and death—she had never once thought that she would have to worry about where she belonged.

  Chapter Five

  Black Horse had consumed enough of the white man’s whiskey throughout the course of the evening to make him even more daring than usual. But he always tried to stop drinking before he got too drunk to be aware of what was going on around him. If there was an attack from an enemy, he had to be capable of fighting. However, the only war he fought to night was the one within himself. He had sat quietly beside White Buffalo all evening and listened to the older man brag about his daughter’s beauty and kindness, and about what a good wife she would make him. Black Horse did not doubt that she would be a good wife in every way. But now the moon was high in the night sky, and Black Horse wanted nothing more than to see this green-eyed beauty that he had agreed to take as his wife.

  All evening he had been watching for her, but he was growing tired of waiting for Meadow to appear. When he attempted to push himself up from the ground, his arms felt like weak twigs. He plopped back down and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the world from spinning around him. Maybe he had drunk more whiskey than he thought he had. When he slowly reopened them, he found that his vision still had not cleared. The dancers around the fire pit were one constant whirl of color, and the flames in the center of the circle looked as though they were intertwining with the dancers. Sha—yes—he had definitely had too much to drink.

  An aggravated huff escaped from Black Horse. He rubbed his eyes with clenched fists, which only seemed to make the pounding in his head grow more intense. Although he had planned to drink, eat and dance until the morning hours, right now he only wanted to lie down on the soft fur bed in his lodge. He imagined a lovely young green-eyed woman stretched out beside him like a lazy cat. Her pale skin would shimmer in the darkness, and it was not difficult to imagine how silky and smooth she would feel to his touch. He moaned out loud.

  With more determination, Black Horse pushed himself up to a standing position. His lopsided headdress tumbled to the ground unnoticed. When he glanced down at White Buffalo, he saw that the medicine man was lying flat on his back with his mouth wide open, and snoring loudly. Black Horse had the urge to do the same thing, but he had important business to tend to first.

  He stepped over the older man and concentrated on watching where he put his feet down until he had managed to avoid stepping on the other inebriated men who were passed out from too much celebrating. Finally, he was away from the center of the village and the hub of the activity. Some of the men had already found their way home and were slumped on the ground in front of their tepees. Their wives and children had probably retired long ago
and were sleeping peacefully in their fur-covered beds. Black Horse smiled as he wandered through the maze of tepees. It felt good to be here among his people. His band of warriors spent most of their time in secluded hideouts between battles and raids. He was enjoying meeting members of the different Sioux tribes—especially one lovely young maiden. He might end up liking Canada much more than he had thought he would.

  When Black Horse reached his own lodge, he did not stop—he had other things to do before he retired to night. White Buffalo’s lodge stood quiet and dark, as if no one was there. He drew in a deep breath and glanced around. The area was quiet and dark. His steps were slow as he made his way to the medicine man’s tepee, but his heart pounded rapidly in his chest. The image of the beautiful young white woman dominated his thoughts.

  “Meadow, are you in there?” he called out when he reached the other tepee. “Why are you hiding from me?” he asked as he pushed open the door flap and stepped inside. He was not expecting the stillness and the complete darkness, and he stumbled forward until his foot caught under the edge of a stack of logs. He did not realize his predicament until he crashed hard against the ground.

  The impact made it impossible for him to catch his breath for a moment, and as he struggled to regain the ability to breathe again, he slowly became aware of a dull throbbing in his temple. A moan escaped from him when he attempted to move. The fall, combined with the liquor he had consumed, made getting up more trouble than it was worth. Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

  Since she had not wanted to be at the tepee if Gentle Water came back to insist that she go to the celebration, Meadow had escaped to the edge of the forest, where the horses were kept in a roughly built corral. Although she longed to jump on the back of one of the animals and gallop far away, the fear of what might be lurking in the darkened forest kept her from wandering from the village. She had spent the eve ning in the company of the Sioux ponies.

  When the sounds were beginning to die down from the night’s festivities, she figured it was safe to sneak back to her tepee. Black Horse was probably so drunk that he had forgotten all about her by now.

  Gentle Water was probably mad at her for lying, so no one would bother her for the rest of the night. As Meadow made her way back to the tepee, she noticed that the drums were finally silent and most of the lodges were dark and quiet. She sighed with relief that she had not encountered Black Horse again. The only thing she wanted was the comfort of her soft bed. Tomorrow she would worry about the things that Gentle Water had told her regarding her white blood, and with any luck, this ridiculous situation with Black Horse would be forgotten.

  Entering the dark tepee, Meadow could hear breathing coming from the vicinity of where her father’s bed was located. At least he had made it back to his own tepee for the night, unlike some of the men that she had seen passed out on the hard ground around the encampment. As quietly as possible, Meadow made her way to her own bed and slipped under the covers. Since she had not made a fire all eve ning, the inside of the tepee was freezing. She decided to sleep in all of her clothes and removed only her tall moccasins. As she burrowed farther down under the thick covers, she wondered how they would ever survive the winter in this part of the country. It was only early fall, and already the temperature was dipping down to almost freezing at night.

  Once her bed began to warm up slightly from the heat of her own body, Meadow fell into a deep but troubled sleep. Her dreams were tormented with images of wandering aimlessly between the white man’s world and the village of the Sioux people. In each location, she would be chased away like a rabid dog, until she had nowhere to go and found herself all alone, huddled under an ominous-looking tree in a darkening forest. Then, as though some invisible force had surrounded her, she felt someone’s strong arms wrap around her. She felt so safe—safer than she had ever felt before. Meadow snuggled deeper into the strong arms that held her and slipped into a peaceful slumber.

  Black Horse’s nose felt like a chunk of ice, and his hands were even colder, when he awoke sometime during the night. He was surrounded by darkness, and he couldn’t force his eyes to stay open. His head hurt, and he didn’t feel like moving. But the freezing temperature prompted him to make the effort to find some source of heat. He felt around with his hands and located the rocks surrounding the fire pit in the center of the lodge. He could see the soft glow of moonlight where the flap in the doorway was located at the front of the tepee and through the smoke hole at the top.

  Assuming that he was in his own lodge, Black Horse began to crawl toward the back of the tepee, where he knew his soft bed was waiting. The comfort of his bed was much more desirable than the cold, rock-hard ground he was lying on now.

  When his searching hand felt the edge of the thick furs, he exhaled a deep sigh. This bed was going to feel so good, he thought as he discarded his shirt, breechcloth and leggings before he crawled under the warm covers. He rolled over on his side and realized that a soft feminine body was curled up under the furs with him. This was a nice dream. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace. The last thing he vaguely remembered before he dropped off into a deep slumber was the way the woman’s body molded up against his as if they were meant to be this way forever.

  Before she even opened her eyes, Meadow felt a strange presence in her bed. A large arm was slung across her breast, and a muscled leg was pinning her to the ground. Her eyes flew wide open. A dim glow from the early-morning sun outside the doorway and through the smoke hole overhead barely lit the interior of the tepee, but it was still not enough light for Meadow to see who was sprawled all over her. Her mouth instinctively opened with the intent to scream for help, but then the man moved slightly and spoke softly.

  “Green-eyed woman,” Black Horse whispered without opening his eyes. His breathing grew even and quiet again.

  The scream that had been in Meadow’s throat a moment ago was now a huge, choking lump. Her arms and legs felt frozen in place, and she could not make a sound because her breath was caught somewhere in the back of her throat. Black Horse was in her bed…with her?

  This was not possible! Was she still sleeping and having a nightmare?

  She became aware of every tiny inch where their bodies were touching: his face was pressing into her neck, and she could feel his soft breath brushing against her skin; his arm was resting intimately across her breasts; and worst of all, she could feel the outline of his manhood pressing against her thigh. The memory of his naked body down by the river yesterday came rushing back to her in vivid color.

  In spite of her attempt to keep silent, a choked gasp escaped. She clamped her eyes shut tightly, but she could not erase the realization that those very same parts were now so close to her own most private area that they were almost touching. Nothing—absolutely nothing—was separating the lower portion of their bodies. Meadow’s dress was hiked up around her waist, and Black Horse was completely naked!

  Mindless panic engulfed any coherent thoughts she had left. The dream that she had enjoyed so much during the night—the strong arms, the sense of security—had not been a dream. It had been real, and she had managed to sleep through it all!

  Meadow brought her free hand up to her mouth to stifle any sound she might make. The Sioux people did not look kindly on promiscuous behavior among the women of the tribe. After learning about her precarious position with some of the tribal members from Gentle Water last night, Meadow knew that being in the situation she was in at this moment could very well mean her exile from this village forever. Then where would she go?

  Black Horse mumbled something inaudible, then pressed even closer against her than Meadow thought was humanly possible. His manhood felt enormous against her leg, and the strange ache between her legs returned. Meadow had never felt so helpless in her entire life. She had to get away from him before the entire population of the village was up and moving about, but she could not even breathe, let alone move.

  From the fain
t light breaking through the doorway and the smoke hole in the ceiling, she assumed the first rays of the morning sun were already here. Normally, most of the village’s population would be up by now, but because of the late celebration last night, almost everyone except the old women and mothers with little ones were probably sleeping off the effects of too much celebrating.

  Black Horse smelled faintly of whiskey, which was probably why he had stumbled into the wrong tepee. Would she be able to convince anyone else of that?

  Meadow tried to calm herself. There was really only one thing that she could do: get out of Black Horse’s tight hold and then get as far away from him as possible. She used her free hand to push against Black Horse’s shoulder. He was a deadweight, and she was hardly able to raise him up more than an inch or two. He plopped back down against her the instant she released him. Meadow coughed when all her air was knocked out of her body. She drew in a deep breath and refocused all her energy on the man who was sprawled on top of her. With every ounce of her strength, she shoved against his chest and kicked her legs until she felt his limp body begin to roll off of her.

  She shoved him the rest of the way and panted as he thudded against the hard ground beside her thick mattress of furs. A loud groan was his first response. Then, to Meadow’s horror, he began to make noises as if he was waking up.

  “Wh-what happened?” he mumbled. He tried to force his eyes open, but even the limited light in the tepee was too much for his blurry eyes. As the cold from the ground underneath him began to seep into his bones, he shivered visibly. His hand reached out and touched on the edge of the soft fur blankets beside him. He started to push himself up to a crawling position.