Savage Skies (13 page)

“Please stay,” Shirleen said. “And I apologize for the times that I have been rude. I have been so distraught. And . . . I wasn't sure whether or not to trust anyone, or whether I was safe in this village.”

“And now?” Speckled Fawn asked, searching Shirleen's eyes.

“I feel so many things,” Shirleen admitted.

She lowered her eyes timidly when she thought of how she felt about Blue Thunder.

Oh, surely her love would show on her face if she even mentioned his name!

“I hope that now you realize among those feelings is the realization that I am a friend,” Speckled Fawn said, seeing that Shirleen was still having trouble speaking her mind fully. “And I hope you realize that all of the people in this village are your friends, especially Blue Thunder and our shaman, Morning Thunder.”

“I do believe that now,” Shirleen said, looking up at Speckled Fawn. “But you should understand why I was so hesitant. It was hard to
trust any Indian after suffering so much at the hands of those . . . other . . . Indians.”

“Many whites call all Indians savages. Those who speak so loosely about things they do not truly know are people whom one should avoid. They are wrong to label such an innocent people as the Assiniboine savage,” Speckled Fawn said angrily, her protective feelings for her adopted people obvious. “There are true savages among those whose skin is red, the sort who spread fear as they roam the land killing, scalping, and raping.”

“You and I are the lucky ones,” Shirleen murmured, slowly nodding. “If Blue Thunder and his warriors had not arrived when they did that day, I imagine I would either be dead now, or wish that I was. I would never want to live if I were raped, or if I knew that those renegades took my daughter's life.”

“I am certain that Blue Thunder will find your daughter,” Speckled Fawn said reassuringly as she reached over and patted Shirleen on the arm. “He is a determined man when he cares deeply about something, or someone. It is obvious that he cares for you, and also for your daughter, since she is your child.”

“I so hope that he can somehow find Megan and bring her to me,” Shirleen said, swallowing hard.

Hoping to change the subject, for the very mention of Megan broke her heart, Shirleen smiled at Speckled Fawn and forced herself to act interested in someone else.

“You have told me a little about how you came to be with these people,” Shirleen said. “Would you mind telling me more?”

“I think it would be good for me to talk about it,” Speckled Fawn said. She swallowed hard, then gazed into Shirleen's green eyes. “It all began when my parents chose to move from civilization as I had always known it. Back East there were no Indians, nor men who would take advantage of a girl in, oh, so many wrongful ways.”

Shirleen listened intently to Speckled Fawn's story, stunned by the tale of this white woman who'd lost her family on her way to Wyoming and had been left to fend for herself after she escaped a gang of highwaymen.

Speckled Fawn grew teary-eyed as she reached the worst part of her story. She had been forced to fend for herself as she had fled from one town to another, dancing in saloons and dance halls for her survival, from age eighteen to when she was thirty. She had no other skills she could use to make a living.

It had been then, in the unruly town of Iron Gulch, Wyoming, that a drunken man forced her into a room and attempted to rape her. The only way she could stop him was to kill him with his own knife.

She fled that town, and heard later that wanted posters had been put up about her. Fortunately, the drawing was not truly her likeness, so no one had found her.

Speckled Fawn had wandered and wandered,
on river boats, across land on foot, on stolen horses, with no one caring about her. One day she collapsed between towns from sheer exhaustion and hunger.

She woke up in this Assinboine village, bathed, dressed in a lovely doeskin tunic and moccasins, with her hair in one long braid down her back. Then an even stranger thing had happened.

An elderly Indian came to the tepee where she had been placed. He had stood there just slowly looking her over.

After gazing silently at her for a short while, he had left.

A while later, Chief Blue Thunder came and told her that she had been chosen to marry his elderly uncle, who had been their shaman before he grew too tired and old to do his duty any longer.

Stunned, Speckled Fawn had asked why the uncle would want her.

Blue Thunder had told her that his uncle's mind had begun to leave him. Because he loved the elderly man so much, Blue Thunder did everything possible to make his uncle happy while he still could.

Speckled Fawn had listened, astonished, when Blue Thunder explained that his uncle had said he wanted the white woman to be his wife.

Blue Thunder had assumed from this request that his uncle's mind was worse than he had thought it was. His illness must be robbing
his mind of reason, for why else would he want a white wife, especially one who was many moons younger than he?

No, Blue Thunder had never understood why, but to make his uncle content during these last moons of his life, he had asked Speckled Fawn, whose true name was Kathleen, if she would humor his uncle by marrying him.

Feeling as though that might be the answer to all of her woes, Speckled Fawn had not hesitated to agree to this special request of a man who was loved and admired by so many. She would be kept safe under the wing of these people who loved the old man.

“And so there it is, the story of how I happened to be married to a much older man, an Indian who was once a powerful shaman,” Speckled Fawn said. “We have never consummated our marriage. He just seemed happy to have me as his wife, especially when we were in our blankets. He never fondled me in any way. He was just content that I was there, smelling good like a woman smells, and warming his blankets for him.”

“The story has such sweetness about it,” Shirleen murmured. “I admire you so much for finding the good in your marriage. Do you miss that . . . part of marriage that can bring joy into a woman's heart, if you are with the right man? You know what I mean.”

Shirleen had always wondered how it would be to make love with a man she loved, not be
forced into a sexual confrontation with someone she detested.

“No, I never even thought about such things,” Speckled Fawn said softly. “I had had such a horrible life after my parents died. I wanted nothing more to do with men. I saw this life that was offered me as something you would read in a fairy tale. I have been oh, so very, very happy here, except when I realized that my husband's mind had finished its journey of slipping away. Now when he looks at me, I'm not sure if he truly sees me. But his smile. Ah, his smile has always warmed my heart, even now, when I am not certain if he is aware of smiling at me.”

“And even after he no longer knew you, these people allowed you to stay as his wife?” Shirleen murmured.

“Yes, I was allowed to stay in the capacity of his wife, because the Assiniboine people knew that my presence continues to bring Dancing Shadow peace even though he has lost his ability to speak, or perhaps even . . . to think rationally,” Speckled Fawn said.

Tears filled her eyes. “But, oh, how he can smile,” she murmured. “I love his smile. It brightens a room. And oh, how I do love . . . and . . . adore him.”

She paused, then said, “It was my husband who gave me the name Speckled Fawn because of the freckles on my face.”

“It is such a pretty name,” Shirleen said, sighing. “Did I tell you that Morning Thunder
gave me an Indian name? Tiny Flames. Is it not ever so beautiful?”

“Yes, it is pretty. I assume the color of your hair and your petiteness prompted the name,” Speckled Fawn said, smiling. “I do love it, Shirleen. Would you rather I call you by your Indian name?”

“For now, my given name is probably better,” Shirleen said. “Perhaps later, the other. It all has to do with how things turn out.”

“I sense that you have feelings for Blue Thunder that are very, very special,” Speckled Fawn said, searching Shirleen's eyes. “You do, don't you?”

“How could I not?” Shirleen admitted. “I have never met anyone like him before. He is such a kind, generous, and caring man. And . . . so . . . loving.”

“I have seen how he looks at you and treats you,” Speckled Fawn said. “I have not seen that look in his eyes since before his wife died. But there seems to be more sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you than when his wife was still with him.”

“Oh, surely you are wrong,” Shirleen said, stunned that Speckled Fawn would be so open with her.

“I don't think so,” Speckled Fawn said, then looked more seriously at Shirleen. “I have told you my story. Are you ready to tell me yours? I know about your child, but not your husband. There was a husband, wasn't there?”

“There was, there is, but I no longer claim
him as such,” Shirleen said tightly. “On the day of the massacre, when the renegades came and changed my life forever and robbed me of my beloved daughter, I . . . I . . . was packed and ready to leave my husband. He had gone to the trading post, and I was taking the opportunity to flee while I could. I was just putting the last things in my bags when I heard the first war cry from the renegades.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the travel bag, then looked at Speckled Fawn again. “Most of those clothes you brought me were the ones I had packed,” she murmured “They were stolen by the renegades.”

“You were actually leaving your husband?” Speckled Fawn gasped, her eyes widening. “Why?”

Shirleen lowered her eyes, swallowed hard, then stood up and turned her back to Speckled Fawn.

Shirleen turned and slowly lowered the bodice of her doeskin dress, leaving her scarred back exposed to Speckled Fawn's stunned eyes.

“My Lord,” Speckled Fawn gasped, aghast at what she saw. “Did that man, your husband, do that to you?”

“Many, many times,” Shirleen said, bringing her bodice back into place.

She turned toward Speckled Fawn again and slowly sat down. “It didn't take much for my husband to decide to remove his belt and use it on me,” she said miserably. “He truly didn't need a reason for doing it. He seemed to take
joy from seeing me react to the beatings. My main regret, even more than the pain I went through, was that my daughter saw her papa do this to me. The sight is surely engraved on her tiny heart and brain forever and ever.”

“Lordie, lordie,” was all that Speckled Fawn could say.

“I was so afraid that one of those beatings might kill me, and so afraid of what this was doing to my daughter, I decided to leave with Megan,” Shirleen said, tears filling her eyes. “But my plan was foiled by the Comanche renegades.”

Shirleen realized that for the first time since she had met this kind woman, Speckled Fawn was rendered speechless.

She is most fair, and thereunto,
Her life doth rightly harmonize.

—Lowell

Always missing his daughter when he was separated from her, Blue Thunder was with Little Bee at his Aunt Bright Sun's lodge. Bright Sun was down at the river, getting fresh water.

Ever so lovingly, Blue Thunder was holding Little Bee on his lap beside the slow-burning lodge fire while she was proudly showing him a new doll made by a friend's mother.

Blue Thunder smiled at all the questions that came from his daughter's mouth today; he enjoyed her inquisitive side. When she was a grown woman, her curiosity would cause her to question many things before allowing a man into her life as her husband.

“Who is the white lady who is new to our village?” Little Bee asked, gazing intently into her father's midnight-dark eyes. “Why is she still here in our village? Is she going to marry our
shaman like the other white woman married Dancing Shadow?”

“No, the woman is not going to marry Morning Thunder,” Blue Thunder said, his eyes gleaming with pride and love for this wonderful child of his. “And who is she? I am only finding out myself who she truly is and what her life was before I saved her from the renegades.”

He paused, then said, “And where did she come from? She had her own family before she was stolen away by the renegades.”

That last statement, that last truth, was hard for Blue Thunder to say. If this woman had no husband, he would have already kissed her and held her to his heart as he asked her to be his wife.

But as it was, he had much to sort through before they could act on their feelings for one another.

He would never forget that she had told him she was ready to leave her husband before the renegades had arrived and changed her life forever. He wondered what the man had done to make her want to turn her back on him.

He understood how much courage it must have taken to actually plan to set out from home, alone with her child.

He hoped to get all the answers soon, for he wanted to make Shirleen part of his life.

Ho
, he was going to marry her.

He would find a way to help her straighten

out her life, for she deserved far more than what life had brought her until now.

“
Ahte
, I know that you have searched for the woman's little girl more than once. Have you finally found her?” Little Bee asked, her eyes wide as she thought about the doll she had given to the mother for that other little girl.

“No, she has not been found,” Blue Thunder said thickly, feeling a pang of regret that he could not give his daughter a more positive answer.

He drew Little Bee gently into his arms. “Little Bee, my
micinski
, I am so proud of you,” he said as she dropped her doll so that she could fling her arms around his neck, returning his loving embrace. “I know I have told you more than once that I am in awe of you. You are only four winters of age, yet you have the intelligence of someone much, much older.”