Savage Winter (31 page)

It was summer—the prime season for hunting the buffalo. Once again the Blackfoot warriors were on the move, following the restless trail of the buffalo.

Windhawk was on his horse, gazing down below him. He watched Tag skillfully moving among the buffalo. He smiled with pride, thinking the boy was doing well.

His dark, expressive eyes moved over the land that had belonged to the Blackfoot for many generations. The sky was a deep blue, and white fleecy clouds floated lazily by. He watched the winding Milk River moving slowly across the land. In the distance he could see the Sweet Grass Hills and knew his village was just on the other side. His heart swelled with love and pride for this land whose beauty touched his heart.

Sighing inwardly, he nudged his horse forward. There was an urgency in him to see Joanna. When he was troubled, she seemed to calm his restlessness just by her nearness.

As he rode down the hill he thought how sad it was that all men couldn’t live as brothers. He had found much to admire in the white man. Could a race be bad that had spawned someone with the sensitivity and love that Joanna had? Was there no good in a race that could produce a boy with the bravery and courage of Tag?

Windhawk’s sadness deepened. There were rumors of the white man’s moving westward. He knew the time would come when the white man would challenge the Blackfoot for their right to the land where their grandfathers were buried.

He knew one day there would be war between the two races. He also realized that the white man would win in the end.

Windhawk hoped the white man wouldn’t come in his
day, or his son’s day—but he would come…nothing could stop him!

Let the white man come, he thought. For Joanna’s sake, he would hold out his hand in friendship to them. If they drew first blood, they would soon feel the wrath of…Windhawk!

Where have you gone, O noble lords of the plain?

Time has erased your footprints with the passing seasons’ rain.

Your voices have now been silenced to no longer echo in the hills.

The battles are but memories when you watched your lifeblood spill.

It is we who are the losers; it is we who bear the shame.

O mighty Blackfoot warrior, only your legend remains the same.

Constance O’Banyon

SAVAGE SUMMER

SAVAGE SPRING

SAVAGE AUTUMN

WOLF RUNNER

WIND WARRIOR

ENCHANTRESS

COMANCHE MOON RISING

DESERT PRINCE

DAUGHTER OF EGYPT

SWORD OF ROME

LORD OF THE NILE

HAWK’S PURSUIT

HAWK’S PLEDGE

THE MOON AND THE STARS

HEART OF TEXAS

MOON RACER

THE AGREEMENT (SECRET FIRES)

RIDE THE WIND

SOMETHING BORROWED, SOMETHING BLUE (Anthology)

TYKOTA’S WOMAN FIVE GOLD RINGS (Anthology)

SAN ANTONIO ROSE

TEXAS PROUD

CELEBRATIONS (Anthology)