Sweet Savage Heart (2 page)

Lone Wolf could close his dark eyes and recall the pathetic creature whom his father had brought into their tepee after that raid. She had been so dirty and afraid, too scared to talk or move or cry. There had been bruises and scratches on her skinny body and tangled knots in her filthy hair. Her grimy dress had been torn in several places, but thankfully she had not shown any feminine traits at that early age. Those gray-blue eyes had appeared so large and so full of terror and sadness. She had been a slave to the Kiowa chief’s second wife, and she had been intimidated and abused by the hateful woman in this demeaning position. To reflect upon such cruel treatment of an innocent and helpless child evoked new anger in him against his enemies, the Kiowas. Silently he raged. A small child should never be treated as an enemy!

The day Soaring Hawk had returned from that raid, the Great Spirit had spoken to him through a vision, telling him to take that captive child into his tepee as his daughter and to name her
Watogla Tate,
Wild Wind, for Soaring Hawk had won his victory and her capture during a violent wind storm: it was a name well suited to the girl, who could behave just as unpredictably as a wild wind. From that moon to this one, the white girl with flaming hair had lived with them. How she had changed during the past years! he reflected now.

Wild Wind had learned to protect herself, physically and emotionally. She had worked on defensive skills and
had sharpened her senses as if her very life had depended on them. She had once confessed to him that she would never allow anyone or anything to hurt her again. Perhaps that persistence and determination and the motives behind them were the reasons why he had assisted her in her training, training that had done as much damage as good for her as well as him. Many times he had dreamed that her destiny did not lie with his people. Many times he had dreamed of her leaving their camp to travel a long and dangerous path, a path that led to the destiny she had been born to live. For years he had been preparing her to face and conquer that perilous challenge. But with her practiced skills and honed instincts had come the belief that she was as effective and as proficient as any male warrior. And, he vexingly confessed to himself, perhaps she was. Yet she had become an Indian maiden and would have to exist as one. For many years they had not spoken of the deaths of her white family or her abuse at the Kiowas’ hands. Perhaps with a wounded mind, the injuries to body and spirit were suppressed, as her white childhood had been. Perhaps secret resentment against her Kiowa captors was inspiring her to refuse marriage to any Indian. Maybe deep inside she did not feel as if she belonged here. Perhaps she was training and waiting for the Great Spirit to return her feet to her destined path. If outsiders had not continued to mention her white skin and blood, it would have been forgotten by her, his people, and their Lakota brothers. But the more they endured this vicious war with the whites, the more her white skin, blue-gray eyes, fiery hair, defiant ways, and high rank were noticed and scorned by his and other bands. Too many saw a white enemy in a place of honor in the Oglala camp, not Soaring Hawk’s daughter or Lone Wolf’s sister. It was a tormenting situation, which needed a swift and acceptable resolution.

No matter what his sister did or said, he knew she had a tender and caring spirit. She was as lively as a muskrat. She was as gentle as a doe. Her smile could be as warming as the sun and her laughter as musical as a watery cascade. Sadly, Wild Wind rarely let such special traits show, as if exposing them would endanger her hard covering and bring about more anguish.

The Indian princess now pulled on the reins to halt her stallion. She tossed her leg over his back and gracefully dismounted. It did not require keen eyes or a sharp mind to detect the change in her brother’s attitude today. Quivers of uneasiness teased over her body and a knife of cold reality stabbed into her racing heart. The fact that Lone Wolf had reached his limits in patience and tolerance was exposed boldly in his ominous gaze and rigid stance. He did not smile or relax as she joined him. She was alarmed by the resolve and barely leashed anger that she read in his expression, though fear was something she detested in herself and in others. It was as if she were trapped upon a landslide, and she sensed there was no way she could halt her movements or prevent her injuries.

She wondered why she felt an outsider with the people who had rescued her, adopted her, and raised her as one of their own. She could not comprehend why she seemed so restless. Even if she did not think and behave like the other women, this was the only life she knew; yet she could not accept her designated role in it. There was an unknown hunger that ate at her heart and mind daily and denied her peace and forced her to disobey. It was as if an uncontrollable force was pushing her toward a vital challenge that continued to elude her.
Help me, Great Spirit,
she prayed.
Help me understand who I am and what I am seeking. Help me find my rightful place. Help my brother and our people understand and accept why I cannot be as they desire me to be.

Exasperated, Lone Wolf decided to take a rash but stern path with his sister.
“Tokiya la hwo? Takca yacin hwo?”
he queried, tersely asking her where she was going and what she wanted. Before Wild Wind could respond, Lone Wolf scolded to embarrass her, “Why does my sister race after warriors as a fool without honor and wits? Anger fills my heart and head,
Watogla Tate.
Have you no pride, no shame, no sense of duty and loyalty? Do you not see how you are destroying my love and respect for you? Do you not see you are stealing the peace in our tepee? Does it mean nothing that you are staining my honor and rank? Do you think only of Wild Wind and her desires? You—”

“I want to observe your first talk with the Hunkpapas as our chief. Pride fills my heart and excitement clouds my head. I will stay hidden, my brother. It is a great day for us. Please, let me—”

“Inila!”
Lone Wolf harshly ordered her to silence, rebuking, “Do not cut into the words of a warrior, your chief! Have you learned nothing of our customs and laws since living with us for so many winters? You defy our ways and bring dishonor to your family. I can allow no more disobedience,” he warned coldly. “You bring shame to the tepee of Chief Lone Wolf and to our band of Oglalas. You shame Wild Wind. We made you the daughter of our chief and the sister of Lone Wolf. We loved you and protected you. Why have you dishonored and pained us? You cause my warriors and others to laugh at me. How can warriors ride behind a fool? How can they follow the commands of one who cannot control his own tepee? Your disobedience and dark pride prove that there is no Indian heart within a body without Indian blood. Each moon you become more white than Oglala. It brings sadness and anger to my heart to view such evil within my chosen sister.”

Wild Wind was stunned momentarily by his vehemence
and incisive words. He had become annoyed with her of late, but never had he spoken in such a manner or behaved so coldly toward her. Something was terribly wrong today. Though she was one who normally could control her expressions and reactions, she helplessly paled beneath the golden glow of her silky flesh. Eyeing him intently, she asked, “Why do you speak such cruel words to your sister, Lone Wolf? I have lived by your side for many winters, and I wish to be like you. Can you deny that I am as trained and skilled as your best warrior? Why must I waste such skills and prowess when my people are in danger of being no more? When I see wrongs, where is there honor and bravery in remaining silent? What excitement and courage is involved in gathering herbs and wild vegetables, or putting up a tepee and taking it down, or rubbing foul brains into a hide to cure it, or cooking meals and serving men like a slave? Such acts require no skill or wits. They can be done by old women or young girls, or by our captives. They can be done asleep!” she shouted at him in an unusual display of anger. “I do not want to be enslaved by a tepee, by a woman’s boring life. I want to feel the sun and wind upon my body. I want to feast on danger and freedom as you do. I want to put my skills against fate’s powers. I wish to be a warrior, not a helpless woman! Let me help our people.”

Lone Wolf shook his head in mounting frustration. “You are a female, Wild Wind. You are the most beautiful creature alive. Why do you make yourself ugly with shame and defiance? If you love me and honor me, find a worthy warrior and join him. Be as you are, my sister, a woman of great value and pride and courage,” he urged.

“You wish me to marry and leave our tepee? You wish me to be miserable? You wish me to let our people suffer and die because the pride of warriors will not allow
women to join them in battle? I must not! I cannot!” she blatantly refused, her eyes sparkling with fury.

“You are eighteen winters old, a woman. It is time to accept your place as Grandfather willed it. Do not force me to—” At her wounded expression, he halted briefly. He was softening, and he could not permit that to happen if he wanted to win this battle.

“Force you to do what, my brother?” she quickly demanded, her heart pounding in trepidation.

Lone Wolf breathed deeply, wearily. “I am your brother and chief, and I must be obeyed. If you do not cease your childish and rash behavior, I will be forced to punish you before the entire tribe. Then you will feel the shame that you bring to me and my camp. If you do not find a mate before the Sun Dance, I will choose one for you and have you joined after the ceremony. I have spoken.”

Wild Wind could not believe what she was hearing. “You would not do such brutal things to your sister!” she debated fearfully, for she perceived the danger and seriousness in this threat from him.

“You are my sister only as long as you behave as my sister. For many moons you have behaved as white. If you are my sister and you are Indian at heart, you will obey the laws and ways of our people,” he shockingly informed her, his voice clear and crisp and intimidating.

“Father would not wish you to hurt me and punish me this way. It is wrong, my brother,” she argued frantically, though she knew Lone Wolf saw the situation from a completely different viewpoint. She had been raised by the Oglalas and she knew their customs and ways; yet something strange and powerful was pushing her away from them and was preventing her from sealing her life with them. If only she could understand and explain what was influencing her thoughts and actions, she reflected miserably.

“Father is with the Great Spirit, Wild Wind. He was too weak to battle you. If love and respect lived in your heart and head, you would not shame and hurt your brother and people. Do you wish to make us regret your rescue from the Kiowas? Do you wish to make us regret you are Soaring Hawk’s daughter? Is there hatred and bitterness hiding within you toward all Indians? Do you seek to punish all with red skin for the cruelty of our enemies? In the past three winters, you have become more white than Indian. I fear such changes will bring much trouble to our camp and to those of our Lakota brothers. There is a powerful force that is driving you from us.”

“You words are not true, Lone Wolf!” she shrieked in dismay. She licked her suddenly dry lips and tried to slow her racing heart. “I love you and loved our father. I would do nothing to hurt you or our people.”

“Your words do not match your actions, my sister,” he replied, refuting her frantic claims. “There is no deeper wound than dishonor. You know the way of my people: it is better to die in honor than to live in shame. If you are truly Oglala, become one with us in all ways.”

“Do you say that the only way to prove my love and loyalty is to marry a man I do not love or want? Must I deny all I am and feel just to prove I am your sister and the daughter of Soaring Hawk? If you loved me as I love you, brother, you would not wish such an empty and cruel life upon me. Perhaps I have acted too boldly and recklessly, but it was to seize your attention and to earn the right to defend our lands and people. If I cannot live in peace and love in our tepee, then I will leave our camp and your life,” she warned him.

She expected him to relent slightly. Instead, he responded, “Perhaps that would be best for all, Wild Wind. Your will was too strong for Father to master, and it pained him to watch your arrogance and rebellion grow
as swiftly as the spring grasses. I cannot reach you. Soon, I will be forced to put my people first. I cannot allow you to darken my honor and rank. I cannot waste time and strength correcting or punishing you each sun. Think on Rides-Like-Thunder of the Cheyenne as a mate. He is a great warrior with many
coups.
By all females he is called handsome, and he has many skills upon the sleeping mat.”

Her cheeks grew as fiery as her hair at his last remark and her gray-blue eyes widened with astonishment. He continued slowly and confidently, “It is time for my Cheyenne brother to have his own tepee. He has many horses and skins to trade for a wife. He is strong and brave; he can protect his family from all evil. In his camp, you will forget your foolish ways and words. He has spoken with me about you. He wishes to join soon. I say we accept his offer. Do you agree?”

Anguish and panic ruled her senses. “You despise my white blood so much that you would send me to another camp, to a stranger, to become his slave by the joining law?” she inquired anxiously. Tremors assailed her body as she observed his resolve. Normally she would have battled him with obstinate words and actions, but she knew he was gravely serious. She dared not push him today.

“Many warriors have asked for you as their mate; each day the offers for you grow larger. Black Hawk and Prairie Dog have asked to approach you. No maiden has received such great offers of trading. The other women grow jealous and angry. You must not reject so many noble warriors. The warriors challenge each other and joke over who will tame the wild wind. For peace, you must choose one, or I will do so. Is there a warrior who stands taller and braver than than Rides-Like-Thunder?”

“You would sell your own sister for the biggest price? I do not wish to marry your Cheyenne brother or any other
warrior. I am young, Lone Wolf. I am not ready to become a wife and mother. There is much to learn and see. I do not love or desire any of them,” she protested. She had allowed several handsome braves to steal kisses, but they had had no effect on her. What was so special about the joining of bodies on sleeping mats? she wondered. Once she was wed, her freedom and joy would be lost forever, and her restless spirit would be corralled. If only Soaring Hawk were still alive…Her Indian father had understood her hunger for life, her many differences from the others of the tribe. Sometimes they had talked for hours of the mysteries of life and the variations in people. He had never pressed her to be anything more than she was. Why had he been taken from her during this confusing period in her life? Why could she not consent to her brother’s commands? She knew why: somewhere there was a special existence and a man awaiting her. She would have to resist Lone Wolf’s orders until her destiny was revealed to them. If only the Great Spirit would open her brother’s eyes to the truth, he would understand why she was refusing to comply with his wishes, and perhaps he would find a way to help her locate her path to happiness.