Savage Winter (2 page)

Taggart James was curled up on one of the bearskin rugs, reading a book. Becoming bored, he laid the book aside and looked up at his sister, hoping she wouldn’t scold him. He couldn’t understand why Joanna was always so adamant about his continuing his education.

Tag noticed Joanna’s face was flushed with an appealing rosy tint as she bent over the fire.

Joanna pushed a loose strand of red-gold hair off her forehead and sat down beside her brother. Tilting his face up to her, she studied him carefully.

“Tag, I believe you are going to need to shave before long.”

He looked at her with interest. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes, you are growing up. I will ask Farley to get you a razor the next time he goes to Fort Union.”

“I don’t think I want to shave. I’d rather be like my friend, Iron Hand. He’s sixteen summers and he doesn’t have hair on his face.”

Joanna smiled. “You could be like Farley instead and grow a beard,” she said, referring to the old trapper who had befriended them. Seeing Tag wasn’t amused by her statement, she frowned. “You are not like your Blackfoot friends, Tag. Why do you think I insist that you continue with your lessons? I want you to always remember who you are. Your future is not here in this land. You have a destiny awaiting you in Philadelphia.”

“I know, Joanna. Sometimes I wish it did not have to be so, and at other times I wish I didn’t have to wait so long to return to Philadelphia.”

Joanna’s face brightened. “There is no need to dwell on unpleasant matters today. Do you know I’m making your favorite chokecherry cake?”

Tag smiled. “Why do you think I am hanging around? I could smell the cake all the way to Sun Woman’s tipi, and I want to be the first to sample it when it’s done.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder, noticing for the first time that Tag’s hair color was changing. Where it had once been red-gold like hers, it was now more golden, as their mother’s hair had been.

“Don’t you know what today is, Taggart James?”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “No, I can’t say that I do. I sometimes lose track of what month it is.”

She laughed softly and kissed his cheek. “I know what you mean—I was thinking the same thing myself only today. It’s hard to believe, though, that you would forget something as important as your fourteenth birthday, Taggart James.”

He looked astounded for a moment. “I had no idea! How can that be?”

Again she laughed. “That’s easy, little brother, you simply grew one year older. You are practically a man now.”

Tag jumped to his feet and his eyes lit up with excitement. “Windhawk says that when I become a man I can go on the buffalo hunt with him.”

Joanna felt her heart contract with fear. She hated the fact that Tag would be facing dangers like all the other young warriors, but she was wise enough not to voice her fears. She knew that if the Blackfoot were to continue to respect her brother, he would have to prove himself a man in their eyes.

She pushed her fear aside. “Yes, he has said that when you are older you will ride on the buffalo hunt with him…but you aren’t yet a man.”

“Most of my friends have already earned their names, while I remain just plain Tag. Even you were given the Indian name, Flaming Hair.”

“Farley is called Crazy One; perhaps you would like him to give you his name,” Joanna said, trying to bring humor into their conversation.

Tag set his jaw stubbornly. “I’m not amused, Joanna.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she replied, trying to control her facial muscles. “If you’ve noticed, I am very rarely called by my Indian name. Most of the time I’m just plain old Joanna.”

Tag’s mouth eased into a smile. “I have heard Windhawk call you Flaming Hair several times.” His mood turned to teasing. “Of course, when he calls you that, you like it.”

“Oh, you think so, do you!” she said, ruffling his hair.

“I know so. Of course, it could be his tone of voice that you like,” he said lightly, with mischief dancing in his blue eyes. He then became serious. “Try to understand—I want to be a man, Joanna!”

She put her arms about his shoulder, understanding better than he thought what he was feeling. They both knew that Tag would have to prove himself worthy as a Blackfoot warrior before he could earn his Indian name.

“Try to have patience, Tag. You will be a man soon enough; then you may wish to be a boy again.”

At that moment they were interrupted by someone’s calling from outside the lodge, asking for admittance. Joanna recognized Gray Fox’s voice, and she walked over to the opening, pushing the flap aside so he could enter.

Gray Fox’s eyes rested on his best friend’s wife for a moment. He felt a strong love for the flaming-haired one, but he could never allow those feelings to show. No one must ever suspect that he loved his best friend’s wife.

“Windhawk has sent me for Tag. He wishes him to come to the river at once. I was told to say there is a surprise waiting for your brother.”

Tag watched Gray Fox’s face expectantly. “What is it? What is the surprise?”

Gray Fox laughed aloud. “Do you remember the horse that you admired from Windhawk’s herd?”

“Do you mean Naveron, the brown stallion with the white face, Gray Fox?”

“Yes, that is the one. Today he becomes your horse…but Windhawk says you must first prove you can ride the animal before he will belong to you.”

Tag beamed. “Can I ride him now?” he asked eagerly.

Gray Fox looked at Joanna’s pale face through lowered eyelashes. He knew her well enough to know she was fighting within herself. She feared for her brother’s safety, but she was learning to let him go. One of the many things Gray Fox admired about his chief’s woman was her spirit. If Joanna could be convinced that something was right, she would give in easily. But on the other hand, if she believed in something, she would make a stand and fight valiantly to the bitter end.

“Come, Tag, I will walk you to the river,” Gray Fox said.

Tag looked to Joanna for her permission. He watched as she lowered her eyes.

“I…will stay here and have the evening meal ready when you and Windhawk return, Tag,” was all she could manage to say.

Gray Fox knew that she couldn’t bring herself to watch her brother ride the wild horse. “There will be many who
will see to your brother’s safety,” he told her, trying to give her comfort.

Gray Fox’s admiration for her intensified as he watched her push the fear for her brother’s safety aside so he could do what was expected of him.

Joanna nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak.

A crowd had gathered on the riverbank to watch Tag break his first horse. The wild stallion was led into the water while Tag rode up beside it on another horse. Windhawk held the horse’s head and nodded to Tag to jump onto the animal’s back.

Many times Tag had seen the fierce Blackfoot warriors break wild horses. He had always hoped one day to get his chance to prove that he was unafraid, but he was discovering it had been one thing to feel brave while watching from the riverbank, and it was quite another to be on the back of this wild stallion, which would want nothing less than to throw him off.

Tag could feel fear gnawing at his insides as the wild horse pitched its head and rolled its eyes. With stubborn determination, he pushed his fear aside and leaped onto the animal’s back.

Immediately, the wild horse reared on his hind legs—he began spinning and thrashing about with hooves flying, trying to rid himself of the rider on his back. Tag felt his legs tremble from the pressure he was applying to the sides of the heaving animal. His muscles were tense and strained to the limit, but he was determined that he would not be shamed in front of the whole tribe. He would ride this horse!

Joanna could no longer stand to remain in the lodge wondering what was taking place at the river. She knew that she couldn’t go to the river and watch Tag, so she decided to go for a ride instead.

Fosset raced down the wide valley, and Joanna felt the wind
cooling her face. Riding to the top of a small hill, she dismounted and gazed into the distance.

Joanna couldn’t stop worrying about Tag. She knew if she had shown her fear it would have shamed Tag in front of the others, so she had allowed him to go, even though in her mind she could see him being thrown by the wild animal and trampled beneath its hooves.

Sighing inwardly, she gathered up Fosset’s reins and led him down the hillside. When she reached the bottom of the hill, she paused beside a bubbling pool that was fed by the Milk River and gazed down into the crystal-clear depths.

After allowing Fosset to drink from the cool water, Joanna sat down on the bank and lost herself in thought. She was vaguely aware that Fosset wandered at will, grazing on the sweet green grass along the hillside.

Usually, spring came late to the Blackfoot country, but Joanna noticed that the wildflowers were now in full bloom. The delicate blossoms of the wild columbine reminded her of nature’s perfection, while the bright yellow buttercups seemed to bow their heads in the gentle breeze.

She glanced down into the pool and saw the distant mountains reflected in the mirror-bright depths. How beautiful it was here! The land somehow seemed so untouched by the hand of man. She allowed her hand to trail in the water, and when the ripples settled she saw her own reflection. Windhawk always told her that she was beautiful, but Joanna couldn’t judge her own looks. The face that stared back at her was pretty enough, she supposed, but she thought her violet-colored eyes were too large for her face. The features were delicate and soft, but her chin was too stubborn, she reasoned. Her red-gold hair hung almost to her waist and was encircled with a plain leather headband.

Suddenly, another reflection appeared from behind Joanna. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t heard anyone come up behind her. The Indian who towered above her smiled, and she could feel her heartbeat accelerate. The man in the reflection was extremely tall, and his face was more
than handsome. He wore only a leather breechcloth, and she could see the muscles that rippled across his arms and chest. His skin was deeply bronzed, and even in the reflection Joanna could see that his dark, expressive eyes were velvet-soft. Her eyes sought his in the shimmering-bright water, and he could read the unasked question on her face.

“He is fine. You would have been proud of your brother today. He showed very little fear when he mastered the wild horse.”

Joanna felt overwhelming relief—she had been so sure Tag would be injured by the untamed horse.

Feeling the touch of the Indian’s hand on her shoulder, she turned to smile up at him.

“Windhawk, how did you find me?”

He held out his hand, and when Joanna placed her hand in his, he pulled her to her feet to stand beside him.

“I will always find you, Joanna,” he said in a deep voice. He reached up his hands and cupped her beautiful face between them. At times, it was still hard for him to realize that the hauntingly beautiful flaming-haired one belonged to him. He had loved Joanna from the first moment he had seen her, and he had known that they would one day be as one, even though it had been hard to convince her that they were destined to walk together.

Her laughter seemed to bubble out, and the sound of it gladdened his heart, as it always had. “I will always make it easy for you to find me, my husband.”

Clasping her slender body close to him, Windhawk rested his face against hers. “Stay with me forever, Joanna, and I will love you as no other man ever could.”

Joanna could feel his warm breath fan her cheek, and she felt a hunger deep inside. She had heard the uncertainty in his voice and knew he was remembering the time she had run away from him. How long would it take to erase his doubts? When would she be able to convince him that she would never again leave him?

Joanna kissed his cheek. “If one day you were to tire of me and cast me aside, I would still beg you to allow me to stay.”

With gentle pressure, he raised her face and looked deeply into her violet-colored eyes. “The day I tire of you will be the day when the sun grows cold; the day I will no longer want you will be the day I close my eyes in death. I think I will desire you even then.”

Joanna could see the flames burning in the depth of his dark eyes. It was a bit frightening at times to love and be loved so deeply. Suppose the gods were to become envious of their happiness and rip them apart?

Windhawk swept Joanna into his arms and carried her up the hill to a spot where they would not be seen by anyone who might come to the pool. He laid her down among the wildflowers beneath a tall pine tree.

No words were spoken as he sat down beside her and moved his hand up her arm, allowing it to trail across her breasts. His dark eyes held an expression of love when he gazed into her violet eyes. Joanna drew in her breath as his hands drifted to her hips and he began to push her gown slowly upward.

She tugged playfully at his hair and he arched a dark eyebrow. “Imagine me loving a man whose hair is more beautiful than mine,” she teased.

“I can imagine nothing more beautiful than the sun shining on your hair, Joanna,” he said, raising a fiery lock to his lips. “I have often wondered how your hair can grow in…spirals. When I first saw you, I wondered if you did something to make your hair…” he paused, not knowing how to describe the curls. Wrapping a soft curl about his finger, he gave her an inquiring look.

“In English it is called curly hair,” she told him.

“Joanna, there is nothing so beautiful as your flaming hair, unless it is your eyes. Sometimes, when I look into your eyes, I feel as if I am drowning.”

She touched his lips, and he kissed her fingers one by one.
“I think you like my eyes only because they are different from all the Indian maidens you are accustomed to. Had I been born with brown eyes, I doubt that you would have paid the slightest attention to me the day we met.”

He leaned forward and kissed each of her eyelids. “That cannot be, Joanna. I have never told you this, but the second time I saw you, I was startled when I could see my own reflection in your eyes. I knew that day that I wanted no man’s image but mine to ever be reflected in your eyes.”