Apache Protectors: Running Wolf Part 14

His mother was surly at supper, despite the fresh antelope they shared. She gave Raven very little, and so Running Wolf stopped eating until his mother gave their captive a larger portion. His mother's animosity toward their captive simmered and Running Wolf worried. When his mother went quiet it always meant trouble.

Before sleeping she said, "I would think a man who lost his father to a Crow lance would know the enemy."

Running Wolf made no reply as he took to his sleeping robes. Who was right? Snow Raven, who questioned the killing, or his mother, who did not? Perhaps Raven knew her people were not strong enough to defeat the Sioux and so she tried to defeat his will to fight.

He tossed and dozed and slept poorly before rising fuzzy headed. This was a dry camp, so he could not wash in the river, but he greeted the sun and prayed as was customary. When he finished the short prayer of thanks he glanced around to see if his mother was about and was surprised to find her robes rolled for traveling and neither woman in sight.

He walked to the river where the women gathered water for the morning meal, but the only captives there were Mouse and a young one who held her torn, ragged dress on her shoulder. This must be the one Raven wanted to have the p.r.o.nghorn hide. He was certain. Running Wolf also saw how thin and sickly they looked and felt ashamed.

He found Big Thunder preparing his best buffalo horse. This one was fast and could maneuver through the herd. He recalled the horse had been taken from a dead enemy that Big Thunder had killed in battle. Running Wolf paused to mentally count the number of horses he had stolen from the enemy or taken from those he had killed. Suddenly his precious feathers seemed to represent more than coups. They represented families whose fathers were not coming home. In battle he had never thought of anything but avenging his father. Each death was one more enemy gone. Each scalp lock a reminder of his valor. But had his opponents also fought to avenge a fallen member of their family?

When is it enough?

"What's wrong?" asked Big Thunder. "You look as though you have a stomachache."

"Have you seen my mother?"

"Yes. She was talking to Yellow Coat."

Yellow Coat was the French trader whose Christian name was Dubois. He was the only white allowed in their camp because he had married a woman from the Sweet.w.a.ter tribe. He had come from the north, not the east, many winters ago, so he was tolerated, if not welcomed.

Most whites were killed on sight and from a distance. Since many carried the spotted sickness, they were treated like rabid dogs.

"Dubois is here?" asked Running Wolf.

"I just said so."

"Is Raven with my mother?"

"Who?"

"Kicking Rabbit," he corrected.

"Yes."

Running Wolf headed off toward the middle of the camp. What was his mother up to?

He found the women crowded about something. He pushed his way through until he reached a series of blankets piled with goods. White conical beads for breastplates and ornaments. Thimbles, tin cones, tiny vials of colored gla.s.s beads, string and brightly colored cloth, knife blades, ax heads and metal cooking kettles.

Running Wolf glanced about the gathering and saw many women admiring the goods. Where was Dubois? He found his mother first. She was grinning and nodding. Before her was a large pile of cloth, two red blankets and a cooking kettle full of white beads. She didn't have enough skins to trade for that many beads.

A shot of fear went through him as he found Raven kneeling behind his mother, her eyes down, her chin tucked so that she stared at the ground.

He walked straight across the blanket to reach them, scattering beads and cloth as he went.

"Oh, mon Dieu," said Dubois, his ruddy face growing red. The man was short and round and as hairy as a bear, except his hair was more the yellow-orange color of a two-year-old buffalo. That was why the people called him Yellow Coat.

"What goes on here?" Running Wolf demanded.

His mother's eyes were bright with excitement but her smile seemed forced, as if she smiled only for the gathering of women.

"Look at the good trade I have made," she said, waving a hand over the stacked goods.

He did not look. Instead, he grabbed Raven by the arm and drew her up in front of everyone.

Dubois spoke in their language, but his accent was bad, so he used gestures, as well.

"Wait, friend. This one is now mine. Your mother has made a good trade. All this for one useless woman."

Running Wolf pulled Raven closer. "No trade." He emphasized the finality of his words by kicking the pile of goods across the blanket.

"But I have already made the trade," said Ebbing Water, her voice filled with astonishment.

"No."

"Why? Did you not give her to me?"

Running Wolf pressed his lips together to keep from raising his voice to his mother. She had him in a tight spot. He had given Raven to her, but only to keep Red Hawk from killing her. He knew now without a doubt that his mother sensed something was growing between her captive and her son, something dangerous.

"She is mine. You said so. Now I have traded her to Yellow Coat."

"No."

"The trade is already struck," said Dubois, beating his fist to his hand in emphasis.

Running Wolf could not think of what to say. He was not quick with words. So he acted, grabbing Dubois by the throat and drawing his knife. He pressed the point of the iron blade to the pulsing vessel at the trader's neck.

"You will take back what you gave my mother."

"Yes! Yes, I will." Then Dubois broke into his own language.

Running Wolf released him and took hold of Raven and his mother, pulling them away. But his mother would not go and tugged free.

"What will you do with her now?" said his mother. "Because I do not want her. If she is no good for trade, perhaps I will stick her with my knife, for she eats too much and works too little."

His mother did this to him in front of all these watching women. He was lucky that the men were not also here to witness this, as they were all preparing for the hunt. But they would hear of it. Such a tasty piece of gossip would spread far and fast. Their war chief fighting with the trader and his mother for a captive.

Her mother spat her words at Snow Raven. "She is Crow, and all Crow are better dead."

Running Wolf looked from his mother to Raven and then slowly about the gathering. All stared at him as if he was a stranger, and so he was, even to himself. What was he doing? He held Raven tighter, knowing what he should do and fighting against giving her up.

"Send her to the common women's tepee," said his mother. "That is all they are good for."

He looked about and his gaze caught on Spotted Fawn, the woman he should be courting. The woman Big Thunder was too shy to speak to. The woman who made his heart cold. Her mouth had dropped open and she looked as shocked as the rest.

"If you do not want her, then I will give her to someone who does." He turned from his mother. "Spotted Fawn lives in her father's home. Her sister and brothers have their own lodges while she takes care of her father alone."

"Iron Bear has a wife," reminded his mother.

"Whom she must answer to. Now someone will answer to her." He lifted his brow, praying that Spotted Fawn would accept this gift. He had no idea what else he could do that would not expose his shameful need for this enemy woman.

Spotted Fawn smiled. "I would accept her, if I have Ebbing Water's permission."

"Take her. But hear me, she is Crow and so will only bring you misery." She said this to Spotted Fawn but she looked at her son.

He ignored his mother's warning and pushed Raven toward Spotted Fawn.

"Go," he said to Snow Raven. She glanced back at him with eyes that told him what she thought of this. He had not freed her from the trader. He had only made her a captive to another.

But she went to Spotted Fawn without a word. He stood straight as the anger gripped him. He watched Raven take her place behind her new mistress. Why couldn't he pull her back? Why couldn't he tell his mother that he would not be ruled by her or by any other?

In that moment he recognized that Raven was not the only captive here. He was a prisoner to his ambition and the expectations of his tribe. He must choose a Sioux woman and have children and raise them to hate the Crow, just as he had been raised.

Now he knew that he did not want this. He wanted the impossible. He wanted Raven.

But he kept his face stern. Spotted Fawn positively glowed with pleasure and her eyes sparkled. It took him several moments to realize that by giving her such an elaborate gift he had as good as said aloud that he would court her. Next she would expect him to play his flute in the evening as the stars were growing bright and stand wrapped with her in a blanket outside her father's lodge.

"I thank you for the gift. Kicking Rabbit will be of much help as we make meat after the hunt." Spotted Fawn motioned to Raven. "Pick those up and follow me."

Raven glanced at him and then did as she was told, lifting the goods belonging to Spotted Fawn and trailing behind her new mistress.

It was better, he told himself. She was free of the trader and his mother.

The trader watched Raven go and then heaved a heavy sigh that made Running Wolf want to knock him to the ground. Running Wolf knew exactly what the trader had intended to do with his captive. It took a moment to recall that he had the same plans. But unlike the trader, he would not take her from tribe to tribe. Would Yellow Coat have eventually brought her back to her own people? What would her brother have traded to free her?

When Raven was out of sight, he turned his attention to his mother to find her glaring at him with a venom he had only rarely glimpsed. He knew what she wanted, what she'd always wanted-for him to kill Crow warriors. Only now, apparently, she also wanted him to kill women.

Well, he would not do it and he would not let her do it. Not with a knife and not by slowly starving her to death. Raven was better off with Spotted Fawn. Wasn't she?

Chapter Twelve.

Raven followed Spotted Fawn to her lodge. As she walked, she fingered the tiny nick in her rabbit-skin dress, the one just below her left breast. This was the hole cut by Running Wolf's mother when she'd pressed her skinning knife so hard against Raven's chest that she had sliced the leather and broken the skin underneath. It was a tiny nick, but Raven had no doubt that Ebbing Water would have loved to thrust the knife into her heart.

What had stopped her?

Perhaps only that she would have to explain to her son. This was how Raven had awoken this morning. Ebbing Water's knife and her signal that Raven should be silent. Once they had moved clear of the place where Running Wolf still slept, Ebbing Water let loose a string of the ugliest curses Raven had ever heard. She'd called her every foul name she could think of and traded her away from her son.

Raven had followed Spotted Fawn with a heart that ached like an infected tooth. What had she expected, that Running Wolf would leap to her rescue and stand up to his mother before every woman in the village?

Only a fool would do such a thing. But that was exactly what she had longed for.

That made her the fool.

Spotted Fawn took her into the lodge of her father's second wife, Laughing Moon. Because of Raven's presence, Spotted Fawn did not simply duck into the opening to the tepee, even though the flap of hide was open. Instead, she called a greeting and announced them.

They waited until they were invited inside. Raven followed Spotted Fawn within and set the goods Spotted Fawn had gained where directed. Then she sat in the place of lowest rank, closest to the draft of the door.

Laughing Moon seemed delighted to have Raven. Both women chattered on about the meaning of this offering. Apparently a captive was an unusual present for a warrior to give his intended.

"She will be of much help tomorrow," said Laughing Moon. The chief's new wife was pretty and round in the face, with a high forehead and light brown eyes. Her young daughter, Gathers Sticks, sat watching Raven with large dark eyes while her mother deftly braided her hair into twin ropes and smoothed the stray ends with grease scented with sage.

"And she can fetch water for us."

When Spotted Fawn turned back to Laughing Moon, Raven saw the smile vanish and her face go hard. It seemed the chief's young wife was not so happy as his daughter to have her here.

"I think that she should earn her place beside the fire."

Spotted Fawn turned and gave Raven a questioning look.

"She is still Crow, and I do not wish to have her slit our throats while we sleep."

Spotted Fawn lifted a hand to her neck. "If you say so, Laughing Moon."

Spotted Fawn waited until the work was done before sending Raven outside without a sleeping robe.

That evening she could hear the voices of the warriors as they met with the old chief in the council lodge that sat beside the lodge of his wife and daughter.

Raven sat in the dark, hugging her knees to her chest, wishing for the blanket she no longer had. Though the walk was short, Laughing Moon had been sent to help her husband home, for Iron Bear was feeble.

Spotted Fawn appeared a moment later.

"I give you this, so it is yours now." She held out a small buffalo robe that likely once covered a two-year-old calf. These yellow hides made the best lodges and were not often used for sleeping, but Raven accepted it gladly.

"Also, this is your water bladder and some dried meat." Spotted Fawn handed over the items and their hands touched.

"Many thanks. Small kindnesses are the greatest of all."

Spotted Fawn stood beside her lodge, looking down at Raven. The glow of her fire made the skin a lovely golden hue.

"Would you really slit our throats?"

"Not yours," Raven promised.

Spotted Fawn laughed at that. "A good start, then."

Spotted Fawn did not argue with her father's new wife, but she did manage to see that Raven had food and a hide to stay warm. Was she kind or just protecting her new possession?

Raven wrapped herself in her new robe. It smelled of cooking fires and leather and home. She fought back the sorrow that threatened to overtake her thoughts.

Laughing Moon appeared with Iron Bear, walking at his side, supporting some of his weight as he shuffled along, pausing to cough and spit. Running Wolf followed behind them and walked within a few steps of her.

Neither Laughing Moon nor Iron Bear saw her. But Running Wolf did. Their eyes met, closing the distance separating them, and he held on until the tepee blocked him from her sight.