Chapter Sixteen

 

 

Other worlds. Traveling through time. In a way that could be what Two Moons was saying. A breeze blew. Gabrielle shivered. He might believe her, if she told him. He might. Maybe he wouldn't think her strange, not if his people believed in more than just a heaven and hell. He had said many worlds. The music came to an abrupt stop.

“Come. Soon the morning will be upon us. You must leave and get some sleep.” Gabrielle could hear the controlled tautness in Two Moons’ tone. His firm grip on her arm seemed possessive, his manner anxious.

A twinge of disappointment squeezed. Sleep? That was the last thing she wanted. Why the sudden change in attitude? “What's wrong?”

He cupped her chin in his hand, brushed a gentle finger across her jaw. “Nothing. Do not let your heart be heavy. It is not of your concern.”

Was he kidding? He wanted her out of there. Why? Even now, seeing his attention focused on her, she got the feeling his thoughts were somewhere else. “Two Moons-”

“Go,” he commanded.

“Fine. I'll go.” For now. She swiveled slowly, teasingly, knowing only too well his gaze rested upon her back. With a voluptuous sway, she headed to his tepee. She reached his tent in a matter of minutes. Without hesitating she stepped behind the hide structure, then quickly doubled back to the dance site.

Peeking from behind still another tepee, she saw Two Moons silhouetted by the fire talking with Kills Pretty.

The sharp knife of jealousy prodded Gabrielle to take a faltering step from her hiding place. She caught herself and held back. She strained to listen to their words, annoyed to hear voices raised in Lakota. Damn! She swore beneath clenched teeth. She wished she understood what they whispered in the shadows.

Kills Pretty pressed her body seductively against his. She locked her arms around his neck.

Shock held Gabrielle rooted. Doubts aroused old feelings and uncertainties. She couldn't be wrong about him. She couldn't. He loved her, not Kills Pretty. So why? Why would he seek Kills Pretty out, when his desire for her had been so apparent? There had to be an explanation. He’d said she was no longer his slave. What did that mean, that he no longer wanted her? That she wasn't his responsibility? No, there had to be an explanation. She couldn't believe-didn't want to believe-all men were the same cheating…

Two Moons withdrew Kills Pretty's arm from his neck and turned away with an abrupt twist. Gabrielle could see by his quick steps, by the tautness of his straight-backed body, his clenched hands and tight jaw, that he was mad-gloriously mad. A triumphant smile slid across her face as she watched him walk away, leaving Kills Pretty to sulk in the shadows.

Quickly, Gabrielle followed him, ducking past tepees, darting behind people and bushes. Her gaze glued, her mind, congested with questions, she watched him stop before Little Wolf's home. An angry scowl crossed his face. Two Moons, wasn't paying a welcoming visit.

“My son goes to fight in your honor.”

Gabrielle spun around, startled by Rattling Blanket’s voice. “What do you mean, my honor? How do you know that?”

“You belong to my son and thievery is punishable by death.”

His possession. God, she hated that. She made it sound like she was a piece of store-bought goods.

“My son calls to Little Wolf. He is telling him to come out and face him like a man. To meet his challenge.”

Little Wolf stepped from his tepee. His bare chest barreled, his shoulders arched back, he glared at Two Moons as if saying, I'm not afraid of you.

“My son says Little Wolf had no right to sell you to the Long Knives. He is challenging him to a fight. Little Wolf has accepted. He has waited many moons for this night to come. He says the ground will grow red--” Rattling Blanket paused, as if stabbed by sudden grief and despair; then she lifted her chin and continued, “… with my son's blood.”

“You must stop them,” Gabrielle demanded, her voice shrill.

“It cannot be stopped.”

Guilt hammered her brain. Rattling Blanket was right. She did bring Two Moons nothing but trouble. “Please believe me. I didn't mean for this to happen.”

Without replying, Rattling Blanket drew her gaze away.

Gabrielle watched as Little Wolf and Two Moons stripped themselves of their leggings. She watched Little Wolf slip his beaded breastplate over his neck; watched as Two Moons removed the silver bands from his bulging forearms. But Little Wolf's arms were just as muscular; his chest was just as solid.

Wearing nothing but their breechclout’s and moccasins, both men moved into the clearing to stand beside the fire.

Gabrielle started toward them. Rattling Blanket placed a restraining hand on her arm.

“You must not. My son is a proud man. Do not shame him in front of the others.”

They threw both men a knife and a tomahawk. Gabrielle noticed the gleam of light that bounce off the weapon Little Wolf held in his hand.

She guessed it was inevitable, seeing the hatred burning between the two, but she didn't want them to fight over her. No matter what they portrayed in storybooks and on TV, she wasn't thrilled, or honored-not in the least. She was petrified.

Two Moons’ attention seemed calmly focused. His brow appeared dry, his composure cool. Hers was about to crumble. She clasped her clammy palms tightly. Sweat dotted her brow.

Kills Pretty stood across from her, her face swathed in uneasiness, her jaw clenched. Gabrielle could feel her pain. They both stood to lose the man they loved. And no one should have to feel this terrorizing fear. No one.

 

****

 

“You will die tonight my brother. Do you not feel the hand of death squeezing your throat?” Two Moons asked.

Circling Little Wolf, he focused on his opponent’s face. He stared deeply into his eyes, reading into his thoughts, guessing at his next move.

“Blue Eyes belongs to me. You had no right to decide her fate,” Two Moons continued, his voice edged with hostility. “No one steals what is mine.”

Little Wolf plunged.

Two Moons jumped back as Little Wolf's tomahawk swooshed through the air, missing him.

“Your blue-eyed one is not worth this.” Little Wolf spit.

Two Moons could feel the spittle on his cheek.

“I wish I had ridden her first, before I gave her away.” Little Wolf's nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed. “Do not be mistaken my friend. I do not fight over her-”

Again he plunged.

Two Moons swerved to the right.

Swoosh. The blade sliced the air.

“I fight to prove once and for all which, of the two of us, is the stronger one,” Little Wolf snarled.

They circled like vultures around one another. Each one watching the other; each one waiting for the right moment, in which, to bury his hatchet.

From the corner of his eye Two Moons could see Blue Eyes standing alongside his mother. The fear touching her face cut as deeply as if Little Wolf's blade had pierced his skin. He wanted to shield her from this fight, had tried to keep her away-

He felt the sting upon his shoulder before he saw the blood.

A sneer of triumph twisted up the corners of Little Wolf's mouth.

Two Moons forced a smile above his pain. “Come, try again. See how my blood runs.” He gestured Little Wolf closer.

“Come.”

Wheeling his tomahawk above his head, Little Wolf charged.

Two Moons dodged as the blade made a long high arc to fall beside him. Little Wolf stumbled forward. Dust swirled up around his feet as he caught himself. He whirled around, only to find Two Moons' tomahawk count coup on his shoulder. Realizing the bravery of his action, anger blazed in Little Wolf Eyes.

“Has the white man's firewater made you slow?” Two Moons asked.

“You fight like an old woman,” Little Wolf replied.

The two men stalked each other, each close enough to touch the other. The veins in Little Wolf's neck bulged. “My blade will make you a woman.”

They grappled in a fierce, well-matched struggle. Two Moons thrust his leg behind Little Wolf's knee and sent him crashing to the ground

The knife flew from his grasp.

With a quick dash, Two Moons kicked the weapon from Little Wolf's reach, then threw himself on top of him. Before Little Wolf could rise, Two Moons locked his knees around his hips. His hand pressed deeply into Little Wolf's throat. His knife raised above Little Wolf's chest, Two Moons felt him shudder beneath him. Little Wolf's lips trembled with fear. His eyes squinted shut. His head tilted to one side, he cringed as he awaited the final blow. Disgusted by what he saw Two Moons dislodged his hand from Little Wolf's neck.

“Henala,” Two Moons shouted. Enough. “You will live, for I do not wish the blood of a coward on my hands.” He leaped to his feet and watched in disgust as Little Wolf crawled away, then stood at a distance.

“Leave this place and never show your face among our people again, for you can no longer call yourself a Sioux warrior. And take Kills Pretty Enemy with you.”

Surprised murmur rose around him. Two Moons continued. “I began to wonder what, other than your hatred of me, would make you do such a foolish deed. Other than a few bottles of whiskey, what, Little Wolf, would you gain by kidnapping Blue Eyes?”

Dead silence hung, as all eyes watched and all ears listened.

“You want my sister and everyone knows how my mother has no love for you. So now I look to Kills Pretty, whom my mother treats as one of her own. Did she promise to convince Rattling Blanket to change my mind about the marriage? And Kills Pretty, “he turned, directing his words to her, “how your anger must have risen when Blue Eyes reappeared in our village. It was your idea to return her to the fort.”

“No!”

“It is true. A moment ago, before the fight when we spoke, your words told me of your deceit. When I told you of my displeasure with Blue Eyes, you suggested we give her back to Golden Eagle. Back. Only the one who had arranged her abduction with the Crow warrior would call him by name and know they had been together. Did you think I would not search for her? Did you think without her presence I could care for you?” Two Moons shook his head. “Never. So go.” He pointed toward the woods. “Both of you. Jealousy and hate are good comrades.”

Kills Pretty hung her head in shame. A dull twinge of pity settled in his chest. She had been a good woman. A moment’s sadness darkened his soul, but he pushed the feeling aside. Blue Eyes was not safe when she was around.

“Watch your step and look behind you.” Little Wolf brushed the dirt from his face and chest. “For I will be following close behind.” He spun around and walked stiffly toward the elders, who glanced away as he passed. Women turned their backs on him. Children called him names as they flung pebbles and rocks his way.

Kills Pretty slunk back into the shadows and disappeared.

“Two Moons.” Blue Eyes flung her arms around his neck. “Thank God-thank God.”

Her body melted against his and his thoughts reveled in her closeness. He wrapped his arms around her. Her voice trembling, she murmured incoherent words into the hollow of his chest. He could feel her warm lips, her warm tears, against his skin.

“To whose god, do you thank?” he teased.

She drew away. Staring up into his eyes, she smiled. “To yours.”

Her words pleased him. Soon she would no longer think in the white mans world.

Her glance dropped to his shoulder and her smile fell. “You're hurt.” Lightly she touched his wound. He grabbed her hand; brought her fingers to his lips and kissed her warm flesh. “I am fine. It is nothing but a scratch.”

She slipped her hand from his. “It is not and you'd better let me clean it if you don't want an infection.”

“I do not know this word ‘infection,’ but cleaning me…”

He paused and lightly ran the back of his fingers against her jaw. Her beauty was like the sunlit blossoms of the flowered covered prairies. His shoulder throbbed, as did his groin. He grinned. “…cleaning me makes me think all kinds of interesting thoughts.”

 

****

 

Sharp pain shot through his shoulder. Roy awoke with a jerk. He winced. Sweating profusely despite the coolness of the evening's air, he glanced around disoriented. A bright moon shone, illuminating a fire that had long ago burnt out leaving charred gray ashes. He rubbed his eyes, then stretched his legs working out the kinks. It seemed his host once again had failed to wake him, choosing instead to find the comfort of his own bed.

What had happened to him before he had fallen asleep? Had he completely lost his sanity? To believe he had lived before as some Indian warrior was absurd.

Old fears swept over him. A picture of his mother back at the institution flashed across his thoughts. His stomach clenched. It had to have been another dream, but he had been awake. No. It was impossible-

He took a step forward. His toe hit a metallic object. He glanced to the ground. It was impossible, wasn't it? He bent over and picked up the flashlight

Then why this nagging feeling he’d shared some kind of karma with this warrior? Why the connection he felt he shared with this stranger from a past century? It didn't make any sense; yet it did. It explained, in part, why he knew Lakota words when he'd never studied their language. And why the sudden interest, fascination for Native American jewelry, when in the past, he had stayed away from anything having to do with Indians? And while he thought about it, why had he always felt apprehensive about covering stories about the local natives? Whenever there had been a pow wow or a tribal gathering an unexplainable resistance fell like a wall before him. Why? Fear? Fear of what? Knowledge? Fear of the past? Nay.

He flipped on the flashlight and made his way to the house.

The door swung open. A stream of light guided him through the dark as he made his way into the living room. An excruciating pain attacked the left side his chest.

“Damn it!” He stopped short and leaned against the wall. He needed to go to a hospital. Maybe he had hurt himself a little more than he'd thought. He took a deep breath, pressed into the pain and straightened.

The beam of the flashlight illuminated the picture hanging on the wall. A chill blasted through him, pricking the hair on his arms. Of all the pictures, this one of the warrior shot through the heart, had a strong effect on him. Fact was he didn't like it. It was way too modern for his taste. He rubbed the sore spot at his breast.

Death. The feeling hit him so strongly. It was as if that picture sent off some strange sense of weird energy.

With an abrupt turn, he quickly moved away to find his way to the couch. The old man had said that portrait represented death and rebirth.

The nagging feeling that Gabrielle was in danger grew with each minute he now paced the floor. He had to get out of here. He jumped up, reached to the table beside him and turned on the switch. If he had to walk to the nearest town to find a phone, he would. To hell with his truck. When the sun came up, he'd be on his way.

A stack of books caught his attention. Restless, he ambled over and scanned the titles. Reincarnation: We have walked here before, caught his eye. He picked the book up and began thumbing through the pages.

Everything in your life has happened to you before and will happen again. People who have a deep bond in this lifetime have been close to you in a previous lifetime. Love is the most powerful force in the universe and once two souls are united in love, they will always be as one.

OK, he thought as he moved to a chair and sat. Convince me.”

 

****

 

Two Moons slipped his warm calloused fingers between Gabrielle’s, and they walked hand in hand back to his tepee.

The soft, amber flicker of the fire's light cast a warm glow around the inside of his lodge. The heat kissed her cheeks.

Their gazes met. She studied his chiseled, dark face. The strong line of his jaw, the rugged, proud tilt of his head and the bronzed skin stretched over high cheekbones, sculpted the face of an extremely handsome man. He reached out and gently cradled her cheek in his palm.

“I am proud to call you mine.” His low, sensuous, throaty voice quickened her pulse.

She closed her eyes, feeling the silent strength of his comforting touch. He ran his thumb back and forth, caressing her jaw, then his fingers shifted to rest beneath her chin as he raised her face to his. His kiss was gentle, yet left her mouth burning-begging for more. Crushing her to his chest, his fingers caressed her back. He pressed his lips deeper, hungrily tasting hers; then his mouth descended to nibble on her neck. Her knees weakened. A surge of heat pumped through her veins. She dropped her head back. His breath was warm as he ran his tongue along the rim of her ear. The soft, moist tip darted in and out, playfully. She heard herself groan as his strong arms lifted her from her feet.

Cradled in his arms, he carried her to his fur blanket and gently laid her down. Kneeling over her, his one arm resting at the base of her head, he drew his face closer.

“Your wound. We must-”

He kissed her. “It is nothing but a scratch, I barely feel,” he whispered softly before he reclaimed her lips once more.

His tender kiss left her breathless. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel his driving heat and possessive strength. Her lips parted as he thrust his tongue in her mouth. Consumed by the stroking, velvety moistness of his tongue, her head whirled.

She watched him stretch out beside her and the jagged gash marring his shoulder caused her concern. She stroked him lightly. “I promised I'd clean this-”

“And the thought of your touch upon my skin sets my heart a flame, but it is not a bath I need right now.” Again he kissed her. “The flame that burns…” He nibbled her neck. His fingers played with her hair. “… is not of my shoulder. The fire that burns is much, much lower.”

Lost in his intoxicating kisses and the feel of his exploring hands upon her skin, the loud cough from behind them came as a jarring bolt, splintering their passion.

She turned her head to stare into Rattling Blanket's eyes. Her cheeks burning, Gabrielle glanced away. With a tug on her dress, she raised her body from Two Moons’ in a desperate attempt to break away from his embrace. But he held her pinned to his chest. His face showed no emotion as he addressed Rattling Blanket in his native language. She could just imagine what his mother was saying. The word hussy came to mind.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity Gabrielle watched Rattling Blanket turn and duck outside, leaving the tepee flap open behind her.

“My mother says you must leave my lodge.” He planted a kiss on her nose. The dismissive kiss made her feel empty, disappointed by his sudden change of heart.

“I don't understand?”

Gently he urged her off and he sat up.

“Your heart is heavy, is it not?” Lovingly he ran his finger against her cheek. “There is no need. This is a good thing, my mother asking that you leave.”

Gabrielle crossed her arms across her chest, already missing his warmth, then glanced away, confused.

Gently, he tilted her chin toward him. “Rattling Blanket says since you are now free to walk among us, you are now accepted as one of my people. And an unmarried maiden does not sleep in an unmarried man's lodge, unless they are family. I do not like this rule, especially now when I ache so deeply for you.”

Rattling Blanket was actually concerned about her virtue? Gabrielle bit her lip and stared outside, watching Rattling Blanket's departing steps.

“Do not be mistaken, my blue-eyed one.” Two Moons' voice broke with huskiness. “This is not finished between us.”