скачать книгу бесплатно
Her eyes fixed on her warrior.
He swallowed and she looked at his face. Handsome, hopeful. There was a crease between his dark brows and his full mouth pursed as he stood for her scrutiny.
He looked like many warriors, but somehow he was different because of how she felt when she looked at him. And there was something else, an important difference between this man and all other men. He knew she was the daughter of heyoka and a medicine woman and still he wanted her, not for herself but for what she might do.
Night Storm did not see her as dangerous. Or if he did, he was willing to take the risk.
He looked at her with hope. She did not need any man. Her healing talents could more than provide for her. She did not need this man. But somehow she did.
He wanted her because she knew his secret and would not tell.
He thought she could help him.
But what if she could not? After all, she had failed to save her mother.
“I have responsibilities in my tribe,” she said.
His mouth went grim and his grip on her hand tightened. “Have you taken a husband?”
She blinked in surprise. To have him think she was married, that she would be desired by a man enough for him to overlook her flaws, made her throat close and ache. She shook her head.
“I still live with my aunt and uncle.”
“They can do without you.”
It was true and that hurt her. The only one who needed her was Falling Otter. “We are moving.”
“I can return you to them, wherever they go.”
The look he gave her was full of hope and longing. She tingled with awareness at the way he stared at her. Was that the need of a man for a woman or of a desperate man for a cure? She didn’t know, but, oh, how she wanted to be the object of that desire again. Everything about him called to her except that he had a falling sickness. She hedged.
He laid aside his bow and then removed the beautiful strand of white beads from about his neck. He held them before her in both hands, presenting them for her inspection and then draping them over her head. They settled warm upon her skin. Gently he pulled her braids from beneath the necklace. The way he slipped his hand down her braided hair made her stomach quiver and her skin tingle.
“One so beautiful needs no such adornments, but I would give you this. It has value.”
She pressed a hand over the beads and felt her heart pounding in her chest. “I know of roots and plants that are known to stop hand trembling, shaking and some that quiet the mind. I know several that ease dizziness,” Skylark said. “But I will not promise I can stop this falling sickness.”
“But you will try?”
“I cannot change those who are possessed. I cannot lift a curse or chase away evil ghosts.”
“Am I cursed?” he asked, and rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand.
The motion was just the simple brush of skin on skin, but the sensation that rippled through her made her gasp.
“I do not know. But this thing that has happened to you, it is sudden. So perhaps it is an ailment of the body.”
He took her other hand, forming a sacred circle between them, and somehow this felt holy.
She stood before him, thinking she was not up to the task. She had confidence in her plants, roots, barks and minerals. But she had never tried to cure a man who fell. She had seen his sort of sickness. It was a fearsome thing.
He waited, his eyes glittering with hope as he set his mouth tight to receive bad news.
“I will try.”
* * *
Winter Moon heard her brother’s arrival before she saw him because he was clapping his hands to the beat of an imaginary horse. His arrival was well-timed, as many of the people had already begun their journey. She had tied the household belongings on one travois and two packhorses. She smiled her welcome.
In search of Skylark, Winter Moon glanced the way her brother had come but did not find her. Her smile faded.
“I must see to my horse,” said Falling Otter.
“Where is Skylark?”
“She is coming right along.”
Winter Moon frowned. Her brother’s words meant Skylark was not coming.
“Is she hurt?”
“Yes. Very badly.” He held both hands over his heart.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Can she come?”
“She cannot.”
Winter Moon flapped her arms. “Can you not just tell me?”
“Yes.”
She sighed and began again. “Is she alone?”
“Yes.”
“Is she with someone from this tribe?”
“Yes.”
A flash of fear danced through her. “Oh, Great Spirit. She’s been taken by the Sioux.” She called to Wood Duck. “Husband, come quick. I think something has happened to Skylark.”
Her husband was much more patient with the questions than she ever was. She relayed what she knew.
Wood Duck took over and interrogated Falling Otter and then turned to his wife. “She is with a man, not of our clan but of our tribe. It may be that she has finally found a suitor.”
“Did he take her?” asked Winter Moon, now gripping her brother’s arm.
“Yes,” said Falling Otter.
Winter Moon sagged in relief.
“So she has gone,” said Wood Duck. “It is good.”
“How is this good?” asked Winter Moon.
“She has chosen a man, and we will see her at the gathering. Perhaps she will even be a married woman.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_69cff585-b4b7-5160-bf58-0be6a19780cb)
Skylark attempted to lower Night Storm’s expectations. “I do not know exactly which medicine will work. So we will try them one by one.”
“How long will that take?”
She grimaced. “It might take several moons.”
“You will stay with me that long?”
“No. Two nights. Then I must return.”
“Two. It is impossible,” he said.
“You could come with me to my village. Then we would have more time.”
He shook his head. “I am a chosen hunter for my tribe. If I do not return, two widows with children will have no meat.”
This was the way in her tribe, as well. Young single men were designated to provide for the families of those who had died in battle, from disease or on hunts. She knew it was a great honor and marked him as a man of promise with a bright future.
And it gave him another good reason to hide his weakness.
“The longest I have ever been away from camp is two nights,” she said.
“That will not be enough.”
They faced each other. She felt pulled in two directions at once.
“Let us see what we can do in the two days. Then we will decide what to do next.”
He stared for a long moment and then nodded his consent to this.
“Why does your aunt let you leave the village alone and stay away for days?”
“So I can gather plants for medicines.”
“That is dangerous. You should not be alone. What if I had been a Lakota warrior instead of one of your own people?”
“Then I would be taken. I know the risks. Still I would not give up my freedom because of fear. It is like sunlight to a flower. I need this time to keep...”
He waited and when she did not speak he repeated her last word. “Keep?”
“Keep from going mad.” Just like her father. She could see herself as a heyoka. Going out when others went in. Tanning roots instead of hides. Making medicines instead of food. Gathering Osha Root instead of the life-sustaining Bitterroot and Timpsula tubers.
“Other women live in camp and leave only in groups for safety. You could venture out with them.”
“And you could learn to paint tepees or make weapons instead of hunting buffalo.”
“That would kill me.”
“Then you understand my need to wander. Even if it comes at a cost. It is who I am.”
He met her gaze and then nodded. “I understand.”
Night Storm’s dog sat beside Skylark, leaning heavily against her leg.
“Ah. You two have not been formally introduced. This is Frost.”
She stared down at the now-familiar dog. “We have met but I am glad to know his name.”
The dog’s head reached her hip. He was lean and lanky. The tips of his ears stood up like a wolf’s and his tail was full and bushy as any fox. The rest of his coat was short and uniformly gray except for his white muzzle and the spots upon his chest that spread outward and did look very much like his hairs were frosted. His eyes were clear, alert and the color of a lead bullet.
Night Storm squatted and scratched the dog, who sat down, tail now thumping the ground.
“He has been with me since...” His hand traveled down the dog’s spine and Skylark found her own spine arching at the sensual sight of his big, broad hand stroking over Frost’s body.
It was her physical reaction that caused her to fail to notice immediately that he had stopped speaking in midsentence. She saw that he was now staring up at the treetops with unfocused eyes. Frost noticed his master’s distraction, as well, and poked Night Storm’s bare leg between his loincloth and the tops of his leggings with his cold wet nose. This brought Night Storm back to attention.
Night Storm petted his dog and Frost’s tongue lolled as his eyes half closed.
“What was I saying?”
Skylark frowned. “You were telling me when you got your dog.”
“Oh, yes. He came to me after my last battle. He kept coming into my mother’s lodge. Finally my mother just let him stay. She thought he would be good company for me. And so he is.” Night Storm straightened.
She offered the back of her hand to Frost. He licked it. Then she scratched his cheeks and petted his head. When she glanced up at Night Storm, it was to find him staring at her with an expression that reminded her of pain.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“No. I don’t think so.”
Their gazes held fast and she felt the blood rising in her body. Was he having the same sensual reaction to watching her stroke his dog as she had felt watching him? The possibility filled her with a giddy longing mixed with terror.
They stood, hands at their sides, eyes dipping and returning to meet. She remained fixed to the earth, stubbornly refusing to yield to the calling of her body to touch his. At last he looked away.
“What should we do next?” asked Night Storm.
“I suppose I should find out all I can about you. Ask you many questions. I will need to know your signs before you fall and all about your falls. Have you had many?”
