Читать книгу Brave Heart - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 7

Serena moaned and moved restlessly, the nightmare of Blackjack raping her now invading her dreams. With a cry, she jerked upright. Perspiration clung to her skin. The tepee was empty, save for the baby in the cradleboard, who was softly whimpering. She had no idea what time it was, but she could still see soft sunlight touching the pine poles that came to a point far above her.

Heart still pounding, Serena discovered she felt a bit stronger, perhaps because of Deer Woman’s kindness in giving her something to eat last night. She focused all of her attention on the baby, who was now beginning to sputter in earnest. The child’s cry forced Serena to stir. Why did the wife of the warrior leave her baby behind? The fire was near the cradleboard, and Serena worried that the end of the long-haired buffalo robe might ignite.

Pushing off the heavy, thick robe, Serena slowly moved into a kneeling position. She brushed her hair away from her face, realizing it desperately needed washing. The baby’s cries strengthened, so Serena crawled on her hands and knees the necessary ten feet to reach the cradle.

“Ohhh,” she cooed softly as she turned the cradleboard toward her. The Indian child was snugly wrapped in several rabbit furs, her tiny round face and huge brown eyes visible. A lock of black hair had escaped and curled across her forehead. A slight smile tugged at Serena’s mouth as she carefully removed the furs and set them aside. “Why are you crying?“ she asked as she explored the baby’s fawnskin diaper, which was filled with the soft down of cattails. Her fingers detected that the material within the diaper was very damp.

“Ah, I see. You’re wet.“ Serena was amazed that the Indians used nature’s material, and it worked just as well as a cotton diaper! Looking around, she saw a number of square and rectangular rawhide parfleches, all colorfully painted with individual designs in reds, blues and yellows. Sliding her hands beneath the baby, she eased her into her arms. Serena examined the fawnskin diaper and discovered it was held in place by two knots. Cooing to the child, who had stopped crying, she laid her in her lap. Serena smiled down at the infant, who stared up at her in fascination. In no time, she had taken off the diaper.

“I’m different, am I not?“ she asked the infant quietly as she held her against her bosom. Her breasts were still sore and swollen, but Serena fought to ignore the pain because she intuitively understood that an infant needed the cradle of a mother’s bosom to feel safe and loved. The tepee was warm because of the still glowing fire that burned inside in a deeply dug hole. Still, Serena worried about the baby becoming chilled, so she took the rabbit furs out of the cradleboard and covered her with them.

The baby cooed and lifted her tiny hands, entranced with Serena’s long, tangled red hair. Little fingers touched the burnished hair, and Serena’s smile deepened.

“You’re a pretty colleen.“ Serena leaned down, pressed a kiss to her brow and inhaled deeply. Babies always smelled so clean, so fresh. Serena’s heart blossomed with a fierce feeling of motherly concern over the vulnerable child. The months of hell Serena had endured with Blackjack subsided as the baby’s bowlike lips broke into a smile, her fingers happily investigating strands of Serena’s hair. For the first time in a long while, Serena felt an unparalleled peace flow through her. In amazement, she realized it was due to the baby in her arms, who was studying her with so much adoration and trust.

The elkskin hide across the entrance to the tepee was pulled open. Serena tensed, her eyes widening. It was the same warrior. He was dressed in a buckskin shirt and leggings. The breechclout was made of red wool and hung to midthigh. There were porcupine quill designs on the shirt in vivid red, yellow and blue. His thick, black braids were wrapped in glossy, dark brown otter fur, with bright red cloth above and below the sleek fur. He wore a white bone choker around his neck, which held a round, pale pink shell in the center of it. Below the choker was another necklace displaying a single, large tooth.

Wolf halted halfway into the tepee. He saw Cante Tinza sitting there, tense, holding Dawn Sky. The woman’s eyes were huge with vigilance. Realizing he was holding the flap open and the warmth was escaping from the tepee, Wolf quickly shut it and moved inside. Where was Deer Woman? She had promised to take the baby with her. Had she left the infant behind again?

Wolf carefully held on to his anger because he realized the red-haired one was able to sense such a thing even if he didn’t show it. He moved slowly to his pallet, a mere five feet from her. The driving need to reach Cante Tinza, to make her understand that he wasn’t going to hurt her, overwhelmed Wolf. He set the freshly killed rabbit aside and devoted his attention to her.

Pointing to himself, he said, “Tashuunka, Wolf.“ Then he pointed at her and asked, “Suna?”

Mouth dry, Serena clutched the baby to her breast. The dark look in the warrior’s eyes made her uncomfortable. Yet when he spoke his name, Wolf, her heart slowed its frantic beating. Again, he repeated his name and her name.

Gathering up all her courage, Serena whispered, “Wolf?”

A pleased look came to his face, and he nodded gravely. “Han, yes. Wolf. You, Suna?”

She shook her head. “Not Suna. Serena.”

Wolf scowled and quickly looked down at the moccasins on his feet. The deerskin leather was wet from his foray into the woods and he needed to change into a dry pair. Her voice, trembling and husky, sizzled through him. English was not an easy language to speak. The r sound wasn’t used by the Lakota, and he found it difficult to even form the sound on his lips.

Looking up, he slowly met her wary gaze. “Sunan?”

A part of Serena relaxed as she saw Wolf’s face lose its hardness. She saw him trying to move his lips into the correct position to say her name. It was his eyes, a curiosity gleaming in them, that kept her on guard.

“Serena.”

Snorting, Wolf shook his head. He lifted his hand in a gesture of patience. He pointed to her and said, “Heart,” and he thumped his chest where his heart lay. “I not say other name. Cante Tinza, Brave Heart,” and he touched his chest again.

The baby cooed happily, her attention and fingers lost in the array of Serena’s red hair. Sensing Wolf’s effort to communicate with her, Serena repeated, “Heart?”

“Yes, Cante, chonteh. Heart.“ He gave her a slight nod and added, “Brave. Tinza, tinzah.”

“Tinza? Brave?”

Wolf grunted, pleased. “Han. Yes!” He pointed to her. “You Brave Heart. Cante Tinza, not Suna.”

“I’m Cante Tinza?”

“Yes!”

The pleasure radiated from Wolf’s rugged features, and for an instant, Serena felt his joy over establishing communication with her. Brave Heart. It was a beautiful name, a courageous name. She watched his facial expressions closely. Deer Woman had had trouble pronouncing her name, too. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to let them call her whatever they wanted. And then Serena realized it didn’t matter, because she was a prisoner.

She looked down at the baby. “The baby’s diaper was wet. That’s why I took her out of the cradle.”

The English words came too fast, and there were too many of them for Wolf to understand. Frustrated, he opened his hands. “Eh?”

Serena pointed to the baby.

With a grunt, Wolf said, “Dawn Sky.”

“Dawn Sky.”

“Han.”

Serena pointed to the baby’s bare bottom and the discarded diaper in the cradleboard. “Wet,” she said.

“Ho,” Wolf muttered. Showing her he understood, he unwound from his crouch and moved to locate the parfleche that contained several folded fawnskins and dried cattails. He heard Cante Tinza gasp. Realizing he’d moved too quickly, that she still was highly mistrustful of him, Wolf halted. Cante Tinza sat there, the baby clutched to her breast, her eyes narrowed. It wounded his pride that she continued to fear him. Hadn’t he shown her he was her friend? That he’d just honored her with a sacred and powerful name? To be given a Lakota name by a medicine man was considered the highest of honors. Wolf admitted she knew nothing of his people’s customs. But surely Cante Tinza realized he had treated her in a friendly fashion.

Lifting his hand, he murmured, “Safe. Cante Tinza, safe. No hurt.”

No hurt. Serena stared up at Wolf, his bulk filling her vision, the shadow of his form dancing against the skin of the tepee behind him. Shadows frightened her even more because Blackjack would often appear out of the shadows of the night after silently entering her bedroom and rape her. Forcing herself to relax, Serena placed the baby in her lap as Wolf moved with deliberateness to the rear of the tepee, behind the cradleboard. He brought forth a rawhide container and placed it in front of her.

Crouching down, Wolf opened the container. “Look,” he invited, and gestured for her to come and investigate the parfleche. She eyed him and didn’t move. Understanding all too clearly how much she continued to fear him, Wolf stood up and backed away.

Keeping one eye on the warrior across the tepee Serena peered inside the container. Delighted to find the dry diapers and cattails, she realized Wolf was trying to help her take care of the baby. Licking her dry, chapped lips, Serena nodded. “I understand.”

Again, moving slowly, Wolf knelt nearby and removed the damp fawnskin from the cradleboard. Taking out a clean, dry skin, he laid it on the robe between them and placed a handful of the dry cattails across the surface. Looking up at Cante Tinza, Wolf held out his large hands, silently asking her to pass Dawn Sky over to him.

Serena nodded and gently lifted the baby toward Wolf’s outstretched hands. The baby’s fingers were twisted among several strands of her hair, and as Serena placed the infant in Wolfe’s care, she was forced to lean forward. Her heart beat raggedly as she moved closer to Wolf and untangled her hair from Dawn Sky’s little fingers.

“Hair like fire,” Wolf said with satisfaction. Although Cante Tinza’s hair was dirty, the copper and red strands still danced with the color of firelight. Cante Tinza was so close. Wolf realized the importance of the moment, and silently applauded her move to protect the baby’s delicate fingers by gently easing her hair from the baby’s grasp. He tried to smile, and dipped his head in thanks. “Pilayama, thank you.”

Serena watched the grooves around Wolf’s mouth deepen as he rewarded her with a slight, nervous smile. Another little piece of her fear dissolved beneath the warmth that moved from the curved corners of his strong mouth to his dark brown eyes. She was feeling weak once again, glad that Wolf changed the baby’s diaper and placed her back into the cradleboard. Moving slowly over to her pallet, Serena curled into a sitting position, drawing the robe across her lower body. Wolf was his name. She watched him tenderly handle the baby, amazed that his large hands could be so careful, so caring. When he slowly turned toward her and their eyes met, Serena quickly lowered her gaze. His eyes burned with a deep fire in their depths, and she felt suddenly uncomfortable. Would he attack her now?

“Food?”

Serena lifted her chin. She saw Wolf go to another parfleche. He pulled out a piece of dried meat, and moved across the tepee to hand it to her.

“Tatanka, buffalo. Eat.”

Her mouth watered. Serena gladly took the dried buffalo meat from him but was careful not to touch his sun-bronzed fingers. “Th-thank you.”

With a shrug, Wolf nodded and forced himself to turn away. Cante Tinza was looking very pale, which worried him. She needed to eat to bring back her strength. First, Wolf made sure that Cante Tinza had water to drink. He then placed wasna, pemmican, in the shape of a cake in front of her, and made a gesture to his mouth, meaning that she should eat that as well. Wasna was made of dried, lean meat, grounded into paste with animal fat, a great rarity in his people’s diet. Normally, only hunting or war parties carried the prized food, but Wolf knew the woman was in desperate need of it to regain her strength.

Where was Deer Woman? Agitated by the absence of the lazy girl, Wolf went to the opening. Before he pulled the skin aside, he turned. “Sleep, Cante Tinza.”

How did Wolf know she was beginning to feel sleepy? Chewing the last of the tasty dried meat, Serena nodded her head. “Yes, I’ll sleep.”

“Washtay, good. I be back later. Be safe.”

His husky words, deep with concern, flowed across her. How badly she wanted to trust Wolf, but he was a man—and an Indian too. Serena knew absolutely nothing about the Sioux except what she’d been told by Blackjack, and Lucinda. While Lucinda had spoken of them compassionately, Blackjack had filled her head with terrible stories of how they scalped and tortured their white prisoners, which included raping the women. Wolf exited as quietly as he’d come, and she was alone once again.

* * *

Wolf sought out his sister, Little Swallow, who was busy tanning a deer hide that would be used to make moccasins.

“Have you seen Deer Woman?“ he asked irritably as he approached her.

Little Swallow looked over her shoulder at her brother. She stood near a rectangular pine frame that held stretched clean deerskin tightly across it. The elk scraper, or wahintke, was used to scrape the hide free of hair and flesh. “Yes. I saw her ride on the back of Swift Elk’s horse. He was going hunting for rabbit, I believe. Why?”

“Deer Woman cannot be trusted,” Wolf growled, and he told her about Cante Tinza and the baby.

“So, she spoke to you?“ Little Swallow asked, pleased. She continued the short, scraping motions on the hide.

“In her own manner, she did,” Wolf acknowledged, standing beside the frame, his arms crossed against his chest. He felt the chill of the morning air and saw that Father Sky was dotted with many white cloud spirits. He knew that soon he and his people would have to move for fear of the horse soldiers coming once they discovered the dead miners by the riverbank.

He heard his sister chuckle and focused on her. “You laugh?”

“Not at you, tiblo. Every time you mention Cante Tinza, you are like a grouchy old lone wolf who has his paw caught in a trap.“ She waved the scraper at him. “I told you, she will trust a little at a time. Thank the Great Spirit that she loves children just as we do, or poor Dawn Sky would still be sitting in wetness!”

Wolf scowled and dug the toe of his wet moccasin into the ground. “Dawn Sky did not cry when Cante Tinza held her.”

“Babies always know who they can trust.“ Little Swallow gave her brother a tender look. “Tiblo, do not look so unhappy. You have made progress with her! And if Deer Woman continues to ignore her duties to your niece, why not have Cante Tinza care for her instead?”

The idea was a good one. Perhaps. Wolf stopped digging his toe into the rich, red earth. “Cante Tinza is still weak and needs care herself.“ With a frustrated sound, he added, “She needs to sweat and have her hair washed. That would make her feel better.”

Running her slender brown hand across the damp deer hide, Little Swallow was pleased with the even scraping. “Then,” she said lightly, “why not get Deer Woman to take her into the sweat lodge and help her wash her hair afterward?”

Looking around the large encampment, Wolf snorted. “If she ever comes back!”

“If Cante Tinza awakes and Deer Woman isn’t here, I’ll come over and help her.”

Wolf started to protest and then shrugged. “Cante Tinza doesn’t trust me enough to help her.”

With a soft smile, Little Swallow bent down to a bowl that contained the cooked brains of the deer. They were whitish, and pasty in consistency. She scooped up some of the matter and began to smooth it across the surface of the hide. “Then, tiblo, let me help.”

* * *

Serena awoke slowly this time. Bright sunlight struck the buffalo hides of the tepee, and it created a hazy golden glow within the structure. Feeling better—less sore and stronger—Serena stretched and looked around. She was alone except for Dawn Sky, who slept in her cradleboard. Serena noticed that someone had placed the baby very close to where she lay. Had it been Wolf? With a smile, Serena rose up on her elbow and peeked into the cradleboard. Dawn Sky slept soundly. She reached in and touched the baby’s soft cheek.

“You are awake.”

Startled, Serena jerked back her hand. She looked in the direction of the entrance. Wolf had entered so quietly that she’d been completely unaware of his presence. Shaken, Serena slowly sat up. His face, usually a hard, unemotional mask, looked less threatening than before. Perhaps it was the velvet darkness in his eyes; she wasn’t sure. He appeared pleased she was paying attention to the baby.

Serena watched Wolf as he came toward her. His mouth formed a slight smile and he crouched next to the baby, resting his hand on the top of the beaded cradleboard.

“I put Dawn Sky beside you,” he said in slow, painful English.

“Th-that was all right,” Serena whispered, unable to hold his dark, penetrating stare. There was such overwhelming power in Wolf that it sent her into an internal panic. Her gaze was riveted to his long, large-knuckled fingers that were draped across the cradleboard. For his size and the masculinity that exuded from him, he was extraordinarily gentle.

“Cante Tinza, you must clean.”

Serena lifted her head. “What?”

Wolf made a scrubbing gesture, as if washing himself. “Clean?”

“I am rather dirty,” Serena admitted, looking down at herself.

“Little Swallow take you to sweat. Clean hair.“ He touched his braids.

Serena nodded. She desperately wanted to bathe herself and wash her hair.

Satisfied, Wolf slowly stood. He was pleased to see that this time Cante Tinza wasn’t looking at him as if he were going to attack her—well, at least, not like before. A song flowed through Wolf, and he hummed it as he strode across the tepee and left to get his sister. Did Cante Tinza realize that she was beautiful in his eyes? Wolf looked forward to the time when he could tell her that. The language barrier was so frustrating. He would have to teach her Lakota quickly, so that they could converse more easily.

Serena had changed Dawn Sky’s diaper when Wolf returned with Little Swallow. The young Indian woman smiled and came toward Serena.

“How much better you look,” she praised slowly in English. Little Swallow fussed over the baby. “And you took good care of her, too.”

Serena tried to smile, because Little Swallow’s spontaneity and obvious warmth made her feel safer. “I just changed her diaper. I mean…her…whatever it is.”

Little Swallow smiled and placed the baby aside. She came over and held out her hand. “Come, I help clean you.”

Another Indian woman entered just as they left. Serena looked at the woman as Little Swallow kept her hand firmly on her arm.

“Who is that?“ Serena asked.

“Dove That Flies. She give milk to Dawn Sky.”

“Oh.”

Serena took small steps, unsure of her legs and balance. Little Swallow, who was shorter, placed her arm around Serena’s waist and invited her to lean on her if necessary. Gawking, Serena saw at least fifty tepees built along the winding river. There were children playing, large cooking fires here and there and warriors on horseback. Little Swallow led her up a small incline and down into a protected area lined with quaking aspen.

Serena saw a hut made out of willow and covered with two large buffalo hides. The river flowed ten feet away, hidden by the bulrushes. Nearby, an older gray-haired woman was tending a large fire that had many rocks placed in the flames.

“This sweat lodge,” Little Swallow explained. She stopped Serena next to the opening and allowed her to stand alone. Little Swallow took off her deerskin dress and stood naked. She placed the dress on a low-hanging limb.

“Come,” she invited, motioning for Serena also to undress.

Serena had no idea of what was going to happen. To have a woman undress in the open was unheard of! Further, she was ashamed of the burns upon each of her breasts, afraid of what the Lakota women would think. Little Swallow smiled and helped her because she was so weak. There was no choice, and Serena choked down a lump in her throat and tried to trust Little Swallow. She braced herself for their reaction as she stood naked, her breasts fully visible.

The old, gray-haired woman clucked sympathetically and began speaking in rapid Lakota, gesturing to Serena’s breasts, but Serena couldn’t understand what was being said. The look on the woman’s lined features showed compassion, and as she came over to Serena, gently placing her thin hand on Serena’s shoulder to pat her, tears rushed unexpectedly to Serena’s eyes. She stood there while both women discussed the burns on her breasts, which were red, swollen and seeping.

“Dreaming Bear says she has icahpe hu, purple coneflower root,” Little Swallow said in her best English. “She says it help heal wounds and it leave less scars. She bring the pejuta, medicine, after she tend rocks in fire pit.”

Blinking back her tears, Serena was overwhelmed with the sincerity and care on their faces. The shame she felt over her nakedness began to dissolve because these women acted as if nothing was wrong with being naked among other women. She didn’t know if it was proper to reach out and touch their shoulders, but she did, in silent thanks for their care.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Washtay, good,” Little Swallow praised. She gestured for Serena to follow her into the very low, concave lodge, getting down on her hands and knees. Moving in a clockwise circle around a deeply dug fire pit, Serena followed the Indian woman. The lodge was very dark except for the opening. After her eyes adjusted, she saw a wooden ladle in a birchbark basket that was filled with water, a pipe and ceremonially wrapped sage. Fresh, pungent-smelling silver sage had been plucked and scattered all over the floor of the sweat lodge. Serena watched as the Lakota woman placed tiny bundles in colored cloth up above them, weaving them in and out of the bent willow framework.

“These tobacco ties,” Little Swallow explained slowly. “I made these for you. Each tie is prayer to Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit, to heal you and return strength. When spirits enter lodge and see ties for you, we will pray they answer my prayers for you.“ Sitting back down, she handed several sprigs of sage to Serena. “Place this over left ear. It tell spirits you serious about being here in lodge of Ina Maka, Mother Earth, and that you ask their help. If the heat too hot for you, make fresh sage into ball and place against nose and mouth and breathe through it. That way, you breathe the sacredness of this powerful herb, and it, too, is healing.”

Serena nodded and did as Little Swallow instructed. She watched as the Lakota woman took some of the fresh sage and vigorously rubbed her body with it. Serena followed her example and found the fragrant scent of the sage encircling her as she finished scrubbing herself with the plant. As she sat there cross-legged and naked, a sensation of peace blanketed her. Struck by the utter naturalness of being with nature in a way she’d never fathomed, Serena found herself eager to learn more from Little Swallow.

Dreaming Bear began bringing in glowing red rocks, one at a time, on the tines of an elk antler. Each of the first seven rocks to be placed into the deeply dug pit was blessed with the stem of a pipe held by Little Swallow. She told Serena to place a pinch of sage upon each rock to welcome it as her relative, for then the rock spirits would work their powerful healing on her for showing such respect. Soon there were twenty red-hot rocks in the pit.