No Other Man (29 page)

"It doesn't look good—"

"I washed it out with whiskey. It's fine."

"At
least bandage it up!" she said, reaching into her blanket bundle for a
cotton handkerchief. She soaked the material in the cold water before binding
it around his arm. She didn't meet his eyes as she went about the task; she was
afraid he would try to stop her.

She
tied the cotton securely around his arm and then started to turn back toward
their camp, hoping that Willow had retrieved her shoes for her. She suddenly
felt Hawk's hand upon her shoulder, drawing her back around.

"Was it different?" he demanded.

She shook her head, at a loss.

"I don't know what you mean?"

His
tone remained somewhat harsh. "Was it different? You were hauled off by a
brave before. Attacked."

She
tried to pull her arm free. He wouldn't let her go. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"Yes!"

"Yes?"

"Yes, it was different." "How?"

"Some—how.
It was always different. You were different. Then you were speaking. And
you—"

"I what?"

She
looked up at him at last. "You gave me a choice," she said.

He
shook his head. "But it wasn't really a choice for you, was it? You were
staying here, no matter what. Because you weren't going back."

"But
that was my choice; you—you were my choice!" she said, and she tried to
wrench free from him once again. Hut he wasn't letting her go.

He
swept her up. She struggled briefly against his hold, then met his eyes. She
ceased to struggle.

"Feet still hurt?" he asked.

She nodded.

"We'll
hurry home, then. My aunts will have salves to heal them."

We'll hurry home....

He said
nothing more as he carried her back to camp. He laid out their blankets by
their saddles. He rested his head upon the seat of his; his chest was her
pillow. He wrapped his arms around her protectively. He smoothed back her hair.
His touch was almost...

Tender.

She was
exhausted. And despite the trauma she'd suffered earlier in the night, she
began to drift.

We'll hurry home ...

Home.

Home to him was still among the Sioux.

She wondered a little bit wistfully if home to him would ever
mean
her.

She was riding with Sloan the following day when he suddenly
turned and told her, "There are good things about (he Plains way of life
as well, you know."

Startled, she looked at
him.

"Few
people make better parents than the Sioux," he continued, gazing her way.
"They are generous to a fault, finding the only good in collecting
material possessions to be in the act of giving them away. We cherish the
wisdom of our aged and take the greatest care of them."

"We care for our aging people!" she protested.

He looked at her.

"Most of us do," she said.

He smiled.

"You said 'we,' you know," she told him. "A
cavalry officer who considers himself one with the Sioux."

He shrugged. "Striped like a zebra. What can I say? I'm
telling you this because you seemed so appalled last night. Glad to be
rescued—yet almost as horrified by your rescuers as you were by your
kidnappers."

"That's not true at all," she protested. "I
just—Sloan, I've just never seen such bloodshed."

"I'm afraid there will be a great deal more of it on the
plains," he said matter-of-factly. "Bad things happen."

"I didn't say that I've never seen bad things
happen," she murmured. "Sometimes I think that I've seen the worst.
Just not so much ... blood."

He glanced back at her again sharply. "So life in the
East was wretched, eh?"

She smiled slowly. "We were talking about the
West."

"But we can talk about the East. How did you and Hawk
wind up married? I hadn't heard a word about it. And suddenly, a bride
appears. A stunning beauty, at that, like a princess out of a fairy tale."

"Hawk hasn't told you?"

With a devilish grin he leaned toward her. "There were
rumors, you know. Tales about a woman arriving claiming to be Lady Douglas yet
seeming to have no idea that there was a Lord Douglas, or,at least a live one.
Now, one could think that you might have been an impoverished beauty, cast upon
hard times, seeking whatever fortune the wind might blow her way."

"I see. You think, too, that I somehow took advantage of
Lord David Douglas?" "Not in the least," Sloan said, and she was
surprised to realize that he was speaking honestly. "David might have been
ill, and we might not have realized it. He was a man of great strength. If he
chose not to reveal a weakness to others, then no one would know about it. But
he was no lool. No young woman, no matter how lovely, could have i.iken
advantage of him."

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean to be insulting."

"I
really meant 'thank you.' I didn't take advantage of liiin, nor did I ever try
to."

"Agreed."

"Between us."

"Ah! You think your husband assumes otherwise."

"I know so."

Sloan
was quiet for a minute. "He loved his father, you know. In a way you may
not even be able to understand. I lawk judged David wrongly for a very long
time. When a man has done that, he owes a great deal to the man he has
misjudged. In David's final years, they were very close. If he judges you
harshly, it's most probably because of the pain he feels himself. Then again
..."

"What?"

"Well, what is your story, Lady Douglas?"

She
smiled because he could so charming. He was a hard man, almost ruthless at times,
yet he could be so kind when I he occasion demanded it.

And
damned persistent and cunning when he chose as well.

"Long
and complicated," she said simply. "Let it suffice to say for the
moment that I meant Lord Douglas no harm, that he was my dear friend, and that
I cared for him deeply." She felt herself blushing. "Not in
that
way," she amended.

Sloan
laughed. "I imagine David took one look at you and knew that you'd be just
right for his son."

"But I'm not, am I?"

Sloan
reined in his horse suddenly, facing her squarely.

"More
right than you may ever realize. You haven't passed out on us once yet, have
you?"

"Well, once."

"And when was that?"

"When Hawk told me that he was Lord Douglas."

Sloan
laughed, then laughed harder. He nudged his horse, cantering on ahead of her.
When he had gone, she rode a few steps in puzzlement until she realized that
Hawk had come from behind to ride with her.

Sloan,
apparently, meant to keep his laughter to himself.

"Well,"
Hawk commented, moving Tor along next to Nutmeg, "at least you seem to get
along well enough with my friends. Enjoying the ride?"

There
was a slight edge to his voice. For the moment, she decided she'd enjoy it. She
smiled. "It's very beautiful here."

"Wakantanka lives here."

"The Great Mystery?"

He nodded.

"Do
you believe that? You gave your father a Christian burial."

He shrugged. "My father was a Christian."

"And you?"

"Among
the whites, I'm a Christian. I believe in a power greater than man. You may
call him God, or Wakantanka. And all men are his creatures, no matter what
their color may be. When you see this kind of beauty on earth, then you must
believe in a god. Do you?"

She
nodded. "Definitely. And in all the powers of good—and evil."

"Heaven and hell?" he inquired.

She nodded.

"Evil spirits?"

"Evil,"
she told him softly, "lies in and is created within the hearts of
men."

"Red men?"

"Perhaps—if they are the same as white men."

"Imagine," he murmured to her. "Something we
agree upon."

She smiled, then laughed. It was amazing, but the fear and
terror of last night seemed so very far away.

"Of course, among the Sioux, Wakantanka is the Great
Mystery. But the Sioux have many gods, and they are all very colorful."

"Are they?"

He nodded gravely. "There are four superior gods beneath
Wakantanka. They are Inyan, the Rock; Maka, the Earth; Skan, the Sky; and Wi,
the Sun. They all have very special responsibilities. Beneath them are four
more gods, associate gods, because they all associate with one above them. Wi's
associate is Hanwi, the Moon. Tate, the Wind, is associate to Skan, the Sky.
Whope is the associate of the Maka, the Earth. Whope is the daughter of the Sun
and the Moon, and is known as the Beautiful One. Wakinyan, the Winged, who
cries out like thunder and has eyes like lightning, is the associate of Inyan,
the Rock. Make sense?"

"I suppose.... what a world!" Skylar exclaimed, gesturing
at the clear blue big sky and the magnificent land.

"Many Sioux feel that they have the world. The sky, the
sun, the earth, the beauty of the land around them."

"The land they are losing?"

He nodded gravely.

"What will happen?" she asked him.

"The government has determined that the American people
must have the Black Hills."

"And?"

"They will have them."

"But if an agreement can be reached—"

"There have been dozens of agreements. None has ever
been worth the paper it was written upon. Yes, the Indians have committed
atrocities upon the whites, and indeed, the whites have practiced tremendous
cruelty as well. One wonders if any man's god is looking down at all of this.
Personally, I think that a time has come when there will be a great deal more
tragedy before another 'agreement' is reached."

"So then—"

"So then I'm here with Sloan because we always try for peace,
the least possible bloodshed. It's the best that anyone can do."

He smiled ruefully at her and nudged Tor's ribs with his
heels and started riding hard, cantering ahead of the cattle to ride alongside
Sloan.

That night, when they stopped to make camp, Skylar took it
upon herself to tie Skeffington securely to a tree. The mule still twisted and
wiggled to elude her, but Skylar was determined she'd not be gotten the best of
by a mule again. She had Skeffington's packs down and the coffee perking before
the men returned from caring for the cattle for the night. No one, however,
seemed to expect her to know how to cook over an open fire. It seemed to be Willow's
task to prepare their meal, but Skylar had never minded cooking, and she made
herself available to Willow to help in any way she could. They hadn't hunted
that evening, so they warmed some of the food Meggie had packed for them: ham,
beans, and corn muffins, warm against the coolness of the night.

Yet even as they ate, and even if it appeared that they were
all relaxed, Skylar was aware that either Sloan or Hawk was standing at all
times, that they were both well armed with their Colt repeaters and knives, and
that, though they didn't seem to expect an attack, they intended to be prepared
should one come their way.

"Do you think there are more Crow near us?" Skylar
asked Hawk, trying not to sound nervous.

"Not now," he said, shaking his head and taking a
seat beside her while Sloan rose and leaned against a tree as he stared out at
the night sky. "We're very close to the Crazy Horse people."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"The trail."

"The trail?"

He smiled. "Men have hunted through here. Many men. I
don't know what those Crows were up to, coming so far cast. But this would be a
very dangerous place for any ('row right now, so close to a large Sioux
encampment of warriors."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but it's all still so
contusing. Some of you get along, some of you don't. The (!razy Horse people
hate the whites so much that they won't go to the agencies to talk, but both of
you, with white blood, can go to the Crazy Horse people!"

Hawk glanced up at Sloan and shrugged in a way that assured
Skylar that both men believed there were things she just would never
understand—she wasn't one of
them.
But Hawk
tried to explain.

' 'Each man is an individual among the Sioux. He has his own
path to follow. No man can tell another man what his path is."

"So anyone can do what he wants to do at any given
lime?" she asked.

Hawk shook his head. "Most of the time, men and women
desire to live up to certain mores that rule our society. There are four great
virtues we strive to achieve: bravery, fortitude, generosity, and wisdom."

"Naturally," Willow offered, "they are virtues
which helped us to survive through the years."

"Naturally, a warrior must be brave. He must defend his
home, be a great hunter, and take many coup against the enemy," Hawk said.

"Coup?" Skylar murmured.

"Coup—unfortunately, taking coup has sometimes hurt us
in warfare," Sloan said. "Coup is what you took against that Crow
yesterday."

"What?" Skylar demanded.

"You struck him," Hawk said. "In battle, it is
a braver deed to come close to the enemy and strike him than it is to shoot him
down from a great distance. Very often, in battle, the Sioux are determined to
count coup, and so they come close and strike their enemies, but in so doing,
fail to eliminate some of their numbers."

"Whereas white soldiers know damned
well they can be killed by tomahawks, rifles, and arrows and are determined to
kill the enemy who are carrying those weapons with all possible speed,"
Sloan continued. "In our system, officers must achieve great victories in
order to rise through the ranks."

"Or beyond. If the rumors are true, Autie Custer is
trying for one great victory over the Sioux so that he can run for president of
the United States, become the Great White Father, and keep his promises to his
Crow scouts and others," Hawk said, his voice carrying a definite note of
irritation.