Tales of Western Romance (18 page)

He hunted with the men, supplying Yellow
Shield with fresh meat and hides, generously sharing what he killed
with others in the tribe.

While Culhane was learning to be a warrior,
Winter Star was also very busy. She tanned the hides he brought her
and stored them away to be used for their lodge when they were
married. She sewed a new dress for herself and then, with her
mother’s help, began to design the dress she would be married in.
When that was completed, she found a prime deerskin and cut out a
shirt for Culhane.

Fall came in a riot of changing colors and
the Cheyenne began to make preparations for winter. The women spent
long hours drying meat, preparing pemmican, mending worn clothing,
making new moccasins and warm coats. The men were often away,
hunting meat, raiding their enemies for food and clothing and
blankets.

The times when the men were away were anxious
times for Winter Star. Now, she not only prayed for her father’s
safe return, but for Culhane’s life, as well.

She spent time with Yellow Shield, feeling
pleased when he told her of Culhane’s good heart, of his kindness
and generosity toward an old man.

It was late fall when the warriors left on a
retaliatory raid against the Crow. To pass the time, Winter Star
cut out a pair of moccasins for her grandfather, but she found it
hard to concentrate on sewing when Culhane was away, fighting their
enemies. She loved him so much, what would she do if he were
killed? He had become an integral part of her life, as important as
the air she breathed, the blood that coursed through her veins. She
could not remember what her life had been like before he came,
could not imagine living without him.

The war party was three days overdue when
Eagle Woman found Winter Star weeping softly.

“
What is it, child?” her mother
asked.

“
How can you bear it when father is
away?” Winter Star asked, wiping the tears from her eyes. “How can
you look so cheerful when he might be killed?”

Eagle Woman laid a comforting hand on her
daughter’s shoulder. “Fighting is a way of life for our men. When
you marry Culhane, it will be a part of your life for as long as
you live. You must smile when he leaves so that he feels good about
going and does not worry about leaving you behind. A man who is
concerned about his wife will not have his mind on the battle.”

“
But surely you worry about my
father?”

“
Yes, child, every minute that he is
gone. But his fate rests with
Maheo
. All I can do for him is
pray for his safe return. Worrying will not help. Crying will not
bring him back to me any sooner. Your father is a brave warrior. He
is wise. He does not take foolish risks. And so I wait and hope for
the best. That is all you can do.”

“
Thank you, my mother.”

“
Culhane, too, is a brave and
courageous man. He will fight well and wisely, for he is anxious to
return to you.”

Winter Star nodded. Her mother was wise. In
truth, there was nothing she could do but hope and pray that the
two men she loved above all else would return in safety.

* * * * *

At last, the men came home. They did not ride
into the village laughing and shouting this time. Six paint ponies
carried lifeless burdens across their backs. Four men had been
wounded.

Winter Star did not see Culhane and her heart
went cold within her breast. Her feet were like lead as she made
her way along the line of returning warriors, her gaze darting
anxiously from face to face. She saw her father and breathed a
small sigh of relief, but still she did not see Culhane.

Tears were welling in her eyes when she saw a
rider in the distance. Heart pounding, she stared at the lone
horseman. It was Culhane. Her legs went weak so that she had to
grab hold of a nearby drying rack to keep from falling.

When her legs again received their strength,
she ran down the valley to his side.

“
What is it?” he asked, seeing the
tears in her eyes.

“
Nothing. I was... I’m just glad to see
you.”

Winter Star glanced at the warrior lying on
the travois being pulled by Culhane’s horse. It was Beaver Woman’s
husband, Bear Killer.

“
He’s badly wounded,” Culhane
remarked.

“
Will he live?”

“
I hope so. He saved my
life.”

Reaching down, Culhane wrapped his arm around
Winter Star’s waist and lifted her onto his horse. “I missed you,”
he said softly. “I’ve never missed anyone so much in my life.”

His words washed over her like sunshine,
filling her whole body with warmth and light.

Beaver Woman’s face was as something carved
from stone when Culhane carried Bear Killer into her lodge.

“
He has an arrowhead lodged in his
back,” Culhane explained. “We did not want to remove it until we
were home. He has lost a lot of blood, but I think he will recover.
I will send Yellow Shield to look after him.”

“
Again, we are in your debt,” the
warrior woman said solemnly.

“
No. Bear Killer was wounded while
saving my life. This time I am in your debt. I will send Yellow
Shield to you.”

The village was quiet that night as the
Cheyenne mourned their dead. Though they had lost several men, the
People had succeeded in avenging themselves against the Crow.

Days later, when the wounded had recovered
from their wounds, the Cheyenne held a victory dance. There was a
feast, and then the warriors related how they had defeated the
Crow.

In dance and pantomime, the warriors told how
they had gone to the land of their ancient enemy, taking them by
surprise as the sun rose on a new day. Many Crow warriors had gone
to their ancestors, many Cheyenne had counted coup.

Elk Hunter told how Bear Killer
single-handedly charged four Crow warriors who had surrounded
Culhane, killing three of them. The fourth warrior shot Bear Killer
in the back before Culhane had dispatched him. Elk Hunter paused
dramatically. And then, his voice filled with pride, he told how
Culhane picked up the unconscious Bear Killer and carried him off
the battlefield. It was an act of bravery that was appreciated by
every warrior, and the people cheered Culhane, both for his bravery
in risking his life to carry Bear Killer to safety, and for his
modesty in not boasting of the deed.

When every act of bravery had been told, the
warriors began the victory dance. Culhane sat on the sidelines,
watching, until Elk Hunter motioned for him to join in the dancing.
Feeling a little foolish, Culhane joined the warriors in the dance.
At first, he felt like he had two left feet and neither one knew
what it was doing, but gradually, he got the hang of it and as his
blood warmed, he felt another layer of civilization melting
away.

Later, the women moved into the center of the
village, forming a circle. Feet moving in time to the music, they
circled to the right, then to the left. Abruptly, the music stopped
and each woman went to the man of her choice and tapped him on the
shoulder before returning to the circle.

Culhane felt his heartbeat increase when
Winter Star chose him for her partner. Joining her in the circle,
he followed the steps of the dance, all self-consciousness gone as
he gazed into her face. She was beautiful, graceful as a young doe.
Her hair caught the light of the fire, shining like a black flame;
her eyes were deep, dark, and mysterious, hiding the secrets of
womanhood behind the veil of her lashes, tempting him to wonder
anew what it would be like to hold her in his arms, to crush her
body close to his and satisfy every yearning she aroused.

Sometime later, he saw Winter Star leave the
gathering. Slipping away from the crowd, he followed her into the
shadows beyond the village.

She was waiting for him, and they came
together eagerly. They had not been alone for a long time, and
Winter Star thought she would die from the sheer pleasure of being
in Culhane’s arms again. She was hungry for the taste of his mouth
on hers and she pressed her lips to his, savoring the taste and the
touch and the smell of him. Her hands caressed his arms, loving the
way his muscles bunched beneath her fingertips, the rough satin of
his skin.

Culhane groaned softly as the flame of her
mouth ignited all his senses. She was here, in his arms, at last.
He knew he wanted nothing more of life than the love of the woman
in his arms. He had thought of little else while he’d been away
from the village. When he had been surrounded by the Crow, certain
he was about to die, his only regret was that he would not see
Winter Star again, that she would never truly be his.

But she was here now. His body urged him to
take her, to satisfy the desire that sparked between them, as hot
and bright as the bonfire that burned in the center of the village.
But he was a warrior now, and a warrior respected the maiden
rope.

As he drew away from Winter Star, he had a
new and deeper respect and admiration for the men who had earned
the right to be called a warrior.

Chapter 10

Winter came howling down from the mountains,
shrieking like a banshee on the trail of blood as it pummeled the
earth, shrouding the world in a blanket of white.

Winter Star spent many hours with her mother,
sewing hides together for the lodge Winter Star would share with
Culhane. It was wonderfully satisfying, watching the lodge cover
take shape, talking with her mother, sharing her hopes and dreams
for the future.

Her wedding dress and moccasins completed,
Winter Star often removed them from their protective wrapping and
caressed the soft doeskin, dreaming of the day when she would stand
beside Culhane and become his wife.

Elk Hunter refused to speak of the marriage.
Culhane had proved himself an able hunter, a courageous warrior,
but Elk Hunter still wished to have Young Hawk for his son-in-law.
Eagle Woman had accepted the inevitable. She, too, would have
preferred that her daughter marry one of the Cheyenne young men,
but the girl’s heart belonged to the
vehoe
. One had only to
see the two of them together to know they were very much in
love.

Only Swift Antelope viewed the match with
blatant disapproval. He had loved Winter Star for many years, had
waited patiently for her to grow to womanhood, had courted her
openly and honestly, certain she would be his. And now she turned
him away for a white man. It was too much to endure. Of all the
warriors in the tribe, Swift Antelope was the only one to speak
against Culhane, the only one who continued to regard him as the
enemy.

Culhane was well aware of the warrior’s
animosity. He ignored Swift Antelope’s insults, turned a deaf ear
to his jibes and taunts, until the day Swift Antelope accused him
of cheating at one of the gambling games the men played to pass the
long winter days.

“
I did not cheat,” Culhane said in a
cold voice.

“
I say you did!” Swift Antelope
insisted. “You are too lucky.”

“
I do not have to cheat to beat you,”
Culhane retorted with a sneer. “You play with all the skill of a
child.”

With a cry of outrage, Swift Antelope sprang
to his feet, his hand jerking his knife from his belt.

Culhane rose slowly to his feet, his gaze
intent on the angry warrior’s face. “I do not want to fight
you.”

Swift Antelope made a sound of disgust low in
his throat. “So, you are not only a cheat, but a coward, as
well.”

Culhane glanced at the other warriors. They
were all on their feet now, their eyes alive with interest as they
waited to see what Culhane would do.

“
A coward and a cheat,” Swift Antelope
sneered. “Just like all the white eyes.”

When Culhane still hesitated, Swift Antelope
lunged forward, his knife scraping Culhane’s forearm.

Winter Star gasped as she happened upon the
scene. The sound, slight as it was, drew the attention of all the
men.

“
Will you fight now?” Swift Antelope
taunted. “Or will you let the woman you want see you for the coward
you are?”

“
I am no coward,” Culhane replied
angrily. He touched his forearm, felt the warm stickiness of his
blood. “And if nothing but my blade in your flesh will close your
insolent mouth, then come closer, and I will do my best to satisfy
you.”

With a triumphant grin, Swift Antelope
attacked, his knife hand driving forward. Winter Star watched,
spellbound, as Culhane drew his own knife and parried Swift
Antelope’s thrust. She was unaware of the other members of the
tribe gathering around, did not feel her father’s hand fall on her
shoulder.

Eyes narrowed, her expression one of horror
and disbelief, she watched Culhane and Swift Antelope circle each
other on the snow-covered ground. Drops of Culhane’s blood stained
the snow.

The two warriors circled more cautiously now.
Slightly crouched, chins down, arms out-thrust, they feinted and
jabbed, testing, searching, looking for weakness in the other’s
defense.

The crowd murmured its approval as Culhane
drew blood. Swift Antelope did not seem to feel the knife cut into
his side.

Time and again, they lunged forward, came
together, and drew apart. Sweat bathed their flesh now, mingling
with the blood of numerous minor cuts. Culhane’s eyes were as cold
as death, his movements as springy and light as those of a panther
on the prowl.

Winter Star’s heart pounded wildly. She
longed to run forward, to stop the fight, but her feet were rooted
to the spot.

She whispered, “No!” as Swift Antelope
slipped under Culhane’s defenses and drove his knife upward, aiming
for Culhane’s heart. But Culhane threw himself backward, rolling
over and leaping nimbly to his feet, so that the warrior’s blade
sliced through empty air.