Blue Hawk puffed on the pipe and passed it to the warrior on his right. From outside came the carefree sounds of children playing, the laughter of the women, but there was no laughter in here. He glanced at the solemn faces of the men seated in the lodge. Many of the leaders of the tribes were assembled here: Crazy Horse and Big Road of the Oglalas, Sitting Bull and Black Moon from the Hunkpapas, Touch the Clouds and Fast Bull from the Minniconjou, Two Moons and Old Bear from the Cheyenne. He saw Kicking Bear and Bad Heart Bull, and crippled old Black Elk, who was the cousin of Crazy Horse. These were men who were well respected among the tribes. Men with Power.
Two Moons rose to speak. He spoke of the wasichu , and how they could not be trusted. He spoke of the treaty made with the Grandfather in Washington, which had promised the Black Hills to the Cheyenne and the Lakota. He spoke of Yellow Hair's invasion of the Black Hills, and the discovery of the yellow iron that made the wasichu crazy.
Blue Hawk nodded in agreement. He remembered how the Grandfather had sent a commission to meet with the Lakota, the Arapaho, and the Cheyenne. Ten thousand warriors had attended the meeting on the White River. Sitting Bull had agreed to meet in council with the representatives from Washington, but Crazy Horse had refused and sent Little Big Man in his place. Blue Hawk had been among the many warriors who had galloped over the crest in a show of force. Little Big Man was an Oglala shirt wearer. It was said that he had threatened to shoot any man who agreed to sign away the Black Hills, but the chiefs had needed no threat. The Black Hills were the heart of the Lakota and the Cheyenne.
Realizing that the Lakota would not sell the sacred Hills, the commission had sought to negotiate for mineral rights, but the Lakota and their allies would not hear of it. The chiefs had demanded that the Grandfather in Washington honor the treaty they had signed. But it was not to be. That winter, the commissioner of Indian Affairs declared that all Lakota people must report to their agency at the end of January or be considered hostiles. It had been impossible for the Lakota to meet such an ultimatum, even if they had been so inclined. To travel such a distance in the dead of winter would have meant the deaths of many Lakota elders and children. Many of the bands were not even notified, as blizzards and severe cold prevented government couriers from getting through.
During the Moon of Popping Trees, an agency Indian had brought word that the Army was on the move.
During the Moon of Snowblind Eyes, a band of Lakota had been attacked.
When Two Moons sat down, Crazy Horse rose to speak. His voice was filled with fire as he recounted the fight with Three Stars Crook at the Rosebud. The warriors had not fought for coups and scalps and horses, as in days past, he said. They had been united, charging at the soldiers, breaking their lines, not stopping to count coup or take scalps until the fighting was over.
Later, when the battle was won, Crazy Horse had sent some of his warriors to follow Three Stars and his men to make sure they were leaving the country. His scouts had brought word that Three Stars was headed for the mountains to hunt the bighorn sheep, and that Three Stars' Crow scouts had gone home. Eight warriors had died in the fight. Fifty-seven White Eyes had been killed or badly wounded in the battle. The Lakota scouts had fired arrows into Crook's night camps to keep the soldiers on edge. Runners had been sent to the agencies to the north and the south, carrying the tale of Three Stars' defeat. It was a good victory, but not the one Sitting Bull had seen in his vision.
Sitting Bull spoke next. He was an orator without equal, a man with a deep and abiding hatred toward those who would not leave his people to live in peace. Once he had believed in peace. Once he had spared the lives of captives. Once he had declared that prisoners must be freed or adopted so that there would be no slaves in his camp. Now he spoke for war without mercy.
Blue Hawk listened and said little. He learned that warriors had been traveling to nearby trading posts, trading furs and blankets for guns and ammunition.
A short time later, a scout came in saying that hunters packing antelope meat had returned from beyond the Greasy Grass.
Yellow Hair was coming.
The line of march of the White Eyes made it clear that Yellow Hair was looking for the camp of Sitting Bull, spoiling for a fight. Excitement blazed through the council, and voices spoke more urgently.
When everything that needed to be said had been said, the warriors passed the pipe around one last time, and the gathering broke up.
Blue Hawk ducked out of the lodge, his warrior blood running hot in his veins. Yellow Hair was coming. Blue Hawk drew a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of sage and smoke. He was eager to fight. For too long he had hidden away in the mountains with his small band. Outnumbered and without adequate weapons, they had avoided battle. But his people had not found peace that way—they had found only hunger and betrayal and death. The Lakota would not be defeated this time. Sitting Bull had promised them a great victory. Blue Hawk would avenge his own dead.
Matoskah called to Blue Hawk as he passed by. "Hau, kola ." Hello, my friend.
"Hau, kola ," Blue Hawk replied.
Matoskah made a broad gesture, encompassing the camp. "I have never seen anything like this before, my brother. It is something we will speak of to our children and our children's children."
Blue Hawk nodded. It was a proud thing, to see the bands all come together. In the evenings everyone enjoyed feasting and dancing and courting.
"Every day more and more people join us," Matoskah said. "Warriors coming from the north say there are many soldiers marching up the Yellowstone. Soon there will be a fight such as we have never seen before."
Blue Hawk nodded. He glanced toward his lodge, wondering if Kaylee was awake. He had made love to her all through the night. He had not awakened her when he left the lodge this morning.
Seeing the direction of Blue Hawk's gaze, Matoskah laughed softly. "I think it is another kind of fighting that you think of now, kola ," he said, punching Blue Hawk on the arm.
Blue Hawk grinned at his friend and shrugged. "Can you blame me?"
Matoskah gave him a little push. "Go. Pleasure your woman while you can."
"I have always listened to your advice," Blue Hawk said. "I will do my best to do as you say."
The sound of Matoskah's laughter followed him as he walked away.
Kaylee made a soft sound of contentment as Blue Hawk's hands explored her body. Such a nice dream, she thought, and snuggled deeper under the furry robe that covered her.
His hands, so big and strong, were ever so gentle as they caressed her, moving over her breasts, her belly, sliding down, down, to stroke her thighs. She moaned softly, her body writhing with pleasure.
"Kay-lee?"
"Hmm, don't stop," she murmured.
Her hands slid over his shoulders, down his chest. His skin was warm, his body firm, his belly ridged with muscle. She never tired of touching him, of being touched by him. Without conscious thought, she was careful of the healing gunshot wound in his side. Impatient to touch him, she frowned in annoyance when her fingers closed over his clout, frowned because it concealed what she desired. She found the ties, unfastened them, and tossed the annoying garment away.
She felt his breath on her face, heard his low moan as her hands touched his aroused manhood, reveling in the strength she felt there, in the joy she found in arousing him.
She gasped, her eyelids fluttering open as he gently removed her hand and lowered his body over hers, and into hers, melding them together, bringing her out of the delicious dream into the sensual heat of reality.
"Blue Hawk!"
His dark eyes blazed with a desire as overpowering as her own.
She wanted him all the time, she thought, wanted him with a fierce desperation that seemed to grow stronger every day. He looked at her, and she wanted him. He touched her, and she burned for more.
His lips found hers, and his need consumed her the way hungry flames consumed kindling. Caught once more in a feverish desire, lost in a world of swirling sensations, she clung to him, his name a cry on her lips as they reached the pinnacle together and then tumbled down, down, down, into a sea of contentment.
Later, after they had bathed and eaten, they found a shady place near the river and Blue Hawk began to teach her a few words of Lakota.
"Hau ," he said. "Hello."
"Hau ," she repeated.
"He taku hwo ? Who is that?"
"He taku hwo ?"
"Han . But when asking questions, women say he , men say hwo ."
"He taku he ?"
"Toniktuka hwo ? How are you?"
"Toniktuka he ?"
Blue Hawk nodded. "Waste ."
Leaning forward, he kissed her. "Skuya ," he murmured. "Sweet." His fingers threaded through her hair, lightly massaged her nape. "Cocola . Soft." He drew her into his arms. "Mitawicu ," he said, his voice husky. "My wife."
"Yours," she agreed and wrapped her arms around him, everything else forgotten as he pressed her down to the ground.
Two days later, all the bands moved across the river.
An aged warrior stood on the far bank, calling out where the people were to go. The Cheyenne went first, going farthest downriver, followed by the Oglala, the Brule, the Minniconjou, the Santee, the Two Kettles, and the Sans Arc. The Hunkpapa came last, stopping near the mouth of Ash Creek.
By evening the camps were set up, looking as though they had been there for days instead of only a few hours.
That night there was dancing. It was not ceremonial dancing, Blue Hawk told Kaylee, but social dancing for the young people, who moved from camp to camp, singing and dancing around the drums in the light of the campfires. The prettiest girls chose their partners from among the young warriors who had fought bravely on the Rosebud.
Kaylee saw three women dancing apart from the others, their movements graceful as willows bending in the wind. Curious, she nudged Blue Hawk. "Why are those women dancing alone?"
"They are not women."
"Not women." She looked closer. "What do you mean, they're not women?"
Blue Hawk grunted softly. "They are winktes ."
"What does that mean?"
"A winkte is a man who, when he is very young, dreams of being a woman. They dress in women's clothes and work and live as women. They live on the outside of the main circle, always apart. They are regarded as Wakan, both feared and disdained. They make good shamans. It is believed that if a winkte is asked to name a child, that child will grow up without sickness and have long life."
Kaylee nodded, fascinated by what she had learned.
As they wandered from camp to camp, Kaylee stayed close to Blue Hawk, wondering if she would ever truly be a part of his world. It was all so alien to her.
At the Cheyenne camp, Chief Comes-in-Sight told how his sister, Buffalo Calf Road, had saved his life.
"My horse was shot out from under me," he said. "The Crows saw that I was helpless and they raced their ponies toward me, certain of taking my scalp, of counting coup. Singing my death song, I turned to face my enemies, when my sister galloped out from behind the rocks. The Crow were coming fast when she reached my side and carried me to safety. From this day on, her name will be sung among the lodges of my people."
Kaylee looked up at Blue Hawk as he translated the story for her. "Your women go to war?" she asked.
"If they wish. Our women are as brave as our men. They participate in the Sun Dance. We have women who wish to fight, just as we have men who do not. To each is given the right to do what she will."
She considered that as they walked back to their own camp. She doubted that she had the courage to go into battle. She had been taught by her mother that women were the bearers and preservers of life.
The dancing and singing went on far into the night. Long after Kaylee and Blue Hawk had retired to their lodge, she could hear the sound of drumming and merrymaking.
Snuggled close to Blue Hawk's side, she drifted off to sleep.
The camps slept late the next morning. Upon waking, Blue Hawk and Kaylee went down to the river to bathe. All up and down the river, men, women, and children were laughing and splashing in the cool water.
Kaylee smiled at the people nearby, pleased when they smiled back at her. It was a start, she thought, and hoped that someday they would think of her as one of them.
Returning to the lodge, she went inside to straighten their sleeping robes and tidy up while Blue Hawk went to visit Matoskah. A little before noon, she went outside, and sat in the shade. An air of lethargy hung over the camp, no doubt brought on by the heat and the fact that most everyone had been up late the night before. Sitting there, she wished she had something to read. Just one book from the dozens back at the ranch. Thoughts of books turned her mind toward her mother and she felt a sudden rush of homesickness. Though she loved Blue Hawk, she couldn't help missing her mother, or the comforts of home. And while their lodge was quite large, it couldn't begin to compare with the house at the ranch.
She looked up as Crazy Horse rode past, headed for the Cheyenne encampment down river. He was a handsome man, held in high esteem not only by the Lakota, but the other tribes as well. His bravery in battle was well known, boasted of by the Oglala warriors. It was said that no white man could kill him.
She glanced around the camp, thinking how peaceful it all was, when she heard a shout. Looking toward the Oglala camp, she saw a great cloud of dust.
She stood up as Blue Hawk came hurrying toward her. "What's happening?"
"Custer is coming!"
"Here? Now?"
Blue Hawk nodded. He could hear criers from the Hunkpapa camp shouting, "The White Eyes are coming! Warriors, get ready to fight! The White Eyes are coming!"
Looking in the direction of the Hunkpapa camp, Blue Hawk saw a great cloud of dust, and riding out of the dust a long line of soldiers, with Ree scouts riding at the head.
Runners went to warn the camps further downriver, while the Oglala warriors rounded up their horses and gathered their weapons. Women ran through the camp, calling for their children. Dogs, excited by the sudden activity, or perhaps sensing the increased tension, began to bark wildly.
Kaylee was clutching Blue Hawk's arm, as if to delay him. She saw a number of women herding their children toward the flats beyond the camp where the tall grass grew. Sisoka came hurrying toward them.
"Go with her," Blue Hawk said. "Stay with her until the fighting is over."
"No. I want to stay with you."
"You must do as I say, Kay-lee." Grasping her arms, he drew her close and kissed her, hard and quick. "Go, Kay-lee."
He watched her until she was out of sight, then he ducked inside their lodge and grabbed his bow. It was a fine, strong bow made of ash wood The bowstring was made from buffalo sinew. Matoskah was renowned for his skill at the making of weapons. Taking the otter-skin quiver of arrows that had also been a gift from his friend, he ran outside and caught up his horse.
Warriors from the other camps were riding toward the sounds of gunfire in the Hunkpapa village where Sitting Bull and his warriors were holding off the soldiers. As Blue Hawk rode up, he saw Gall and Black Moon and Sitting Bull leading a charge straight toward the soldiers. To Blue Hawk's surprise, the soldiers dismounted to fight on foot. The forces came together with a clash and a blast of gunfire, to be obscured in clouds of swirling dust.
Dismounting was a foolish thing for the wasichu to do, Blue Hawk thought, but a good thing for the women and children, for it meant the soldiers could not pursue them. He saw several old men herding a group of women and children away from the Hunkpapa camp. The soldiers' tactics were negating the element of surprise they had enjoyed. It was good.
A moment later Crazy Horse came riding up on his yellow pinto, his body painted with hailstones, the lightning streak on his face, the red-tailed hawk that was his medicine on his head. When the warriors saw him coming, they shouted his name, "Tashunke Witke!" over and over again.
"Hoppo! " the Oglala chief cried. "Let us go! It is a good day to die!"
Excitement pumped through Blue Hawk's veins as he followed Crazy Horse. They drove the soldiers back, away from the camp, away from the lodges and the women and children. Gunsmoke and dust lay heavy in the air. Warriors charged the soldiers, counting coup, eager to take scalps and guns. Only a few of the soldiers fought back. The others broke and ran for the river. Those who had dismounted died on their feet, swept down by the fierce riders. Those who stayed in the saddle leaned low over the necks of their horses, trying to dodge the blows of the warriors. There was no crossing here, and they jumped their horses from the banks. Some of the warriors gave chase, others went back to pick off the remaining soldiers and collect their weapons.
A soldier rose up out of the brush. The soldier sighted down the barrel of his rifle, but before he could fire, Blue Hawk's arrow found his heart. With a cry of victory, Blue Hawk leaned over the side of his horse and plucked the rifle from the wasichu's hand. The warrior ahead of him swung his war club, knocking a soldier off his horse.
Blue Hawk reined his horse to a halt as the battle in the Hunkpapa camp slowed. He dismounted, retrieved a cartridge belt from a fallen soldier and slung it over his shoulder. Looking around, he saw that many of the lodges were riddled with bullets. Some had been knocked over, others were on fire. He saw Crazy Horse talking to Sitting Bull. Here and there warriors were stripping the dead soldiers of their clothing and weapons.
A few moments later, a warrior raced by on a lathered horse. "More soldiers are coming!" he shouted. "Follow me!"
Another warrior raised his rifle over his head. "Only the earth and the mountains live forever! Be brave! It is a good day to die!"
The shrill notes of war whistles pierced the air, calling the warriors to battle.
They responded immediately. Vaulting onto their ponies, they raced downriver. Blue Hawk wheeled his horse around, and then he saw them, a double column of soldiers riding along the ridge on the far side of the river across from the lower camps. With a wild cry, he followed the other warriors.
They would not get there in time, Blue Hawk thought. The soldiers would reach the river before they did.
And then, to his surprise, he saw four Cheyenne warriors cross the river to meet the soldiers. Four against two hundred. It was a brave thing to do, a thing so unexpected that the soldiers came to a halt. The Cheyenne warriors fired their guns as quickly as they could, and the White Eyes fired back. Five Lakota warriors joined the Cheyenne, nine brave men holding off the bluecoats until more and more warriors joined them.
And now the fighting was intense. Blue Hawk fired at one of the soldiers, his blood singing in his veins as the soldier tumbled from his horse.
Gall and Knife Chief rode into their midst. "Hoka hey! " the chiefs shouted. "It is a good day to die!"
Blue Hawk lifted his voice with those of the other warriors. "It is a good day to die!"
Shouting the Lakota kill cry, "Huhn, huhn, huhn ," they cut a wide swath through the panicked soldiers.
Relentlessly, the warriors drove the White Eyes back, away from the village. Caught up in a tide of warriors, Blue Hawk was swept into another battle, on a hill away from the river. The White Eyes here were mounted on gray horses. Soldiers who had lost their horses fought on foot, some firing so rapidly that their rifles overheated, making them useless. All around him the fighting raged on, with red man and white caught up in the heat of battle, charging each other on horseback or engaged in fierce hand-to-hand combat.
Blue Hawk fought his way through, killing several of the soldiers with the gun he had taken, and he heard Mato's voice echo in his mind: Your enemies will fall before you . A soldier rose up before him. Blue Hawk saw the hammer on the soldier's rifle fall, as if in slow motion. There was no flash. No smoke. Blue Hawk sighted down the shaft of his arrow. He was about to let it fly when his horse stumbled and the arrow, meant for the wasichu's heart, went through his neck instead. In his mind he again heard Mato's voice, promising him safety in battle.
He reined his horse around, his heart huge with war, and rode hard toward a group of soldiers. He prowled among them, as fierce as Mato himself. Time, the great circle, seemed to slow as he fought his enemies. The bear snarled within him as he struck them down one by one. The wasichu moved as if caught in a mire, slow, clumsy, helpless to escape the fury of the bear.
The rifle he had seized was as well balanced as any war club, leaping to do his bidding. A revolver flared, leaving a deep burn along his rib cage. With a wild cry he fired at the soldier who had wounded him. Another dead wasichu . Another coup to avenge Unci's death.
He followed the Lakota and the Cheyenne as they moved up the slope. Here were more soldiers on gray horses, and in the middle was Custer.
The air was thick with smoke. Blue Hawk heard the screams of wounded horses as they thrashed on the ground, the shouts of frightened men, the ululating war cries of the Lakota and the Cheyenne.
Crazy Horse rode up on a fresh horse. He thrust his rifle in the air and cried, "Oglalas, come! Follow me!"
Lifting his own rifle over his head, Blue Hawk galloped after Crazy Horse into the heart of the battle.
Kaylee huddled in the tall grass, watching the battle below her in horror. The sound of gunfire filled the air. Bullets ripped through the lodges. She saw a group of women and children running downriver, followed by several old men and camp dogs. A group of warriors took a stand, making a wall between the fleeing women and the soldiers. A thick haze of dust and smoke lay like a dark shroud over the camp.
A herd of horses ran through the village, and she saw a young man grab for the mane of one of them and leap onto its back. With a whoop he rode off to join the fight.
She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to shut out the sounds of the battle. Where was Blue Hawk? A few women and children stood nearby, huddled together, the children wide-eyed and silent.
She looked up, startled, as a handful of soldiers suddenly appeared from the right.
With a shriek, the women grabbed their children and began to run. Fear pounded through Kaylee as she scrambled to her feet. She screamed as the soldiers began to fire at the women.
The women scattered like hens chased by a fox. Kaylee ran for her life, cried out as her foot caught on a root and she fell to her hands and knees. She heard the sound of hoofbeats behind her. Wrapping her arms around her head, she closed her eyes, sure that she was going to die.
Gunfire roared over her head, and then there was an abrupt silence. Opening her eyes, she saw soldiers lying dead all around her. Sisoka helped her to her feet and smiled. Kaylee smiled in return, but it felt hollow, forced. The warriors who had come to their rescue dismounted and began scalping the soldiers. Some of the women drew their knives and began to mutilate the dead, while others stripped them of their clothing.
Kaylee looked away, gagging. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying not to think of what was happening in other parts of the camp, trying not to picture Blue Hawk out there in the midst of the battle, a knife in one hand and a bloody scalp in the other.
She looked up with a start when someone tugged on her arm. Sisoka stood beside her, motioning for her to follow. Numbly she followed the women and children, many of whom were carrying coats and hats and bayonets taken from the dead soldiers.
The camps along the Little Big Horn were quiet now. All the fighting had moved across the river into the hills beyond.
Heavyhearted, Kaylee made her way to the lodge she shared with Blue Hawk.
She didn't belong here. She would never belong here.
Blue Hawk blew out a deep sigh as he stared at the field of battle. Custer and his men were dead. The Indians who had died at the Washita at the hands of Yellow Hair had been avenged, as had his grandmother, and the men and women of his own band. It had been a good day for his enemies to die. Just as Sitting Bull had foretold.
Reining his horse to a halt on a ridge overlooking the valley, he looked down on the camps below. The women were returning to their lodges. Others were moving toward the battleground to seek their dead or to strike the soldiers who had brought death to their lodges.
Never had he been in a fight like this one. He had seen many acts of bravery. Moving Robe, a Cheyenne woman, had ridden into the thick of the battle carrying the lance of her brother, who had been killed by Three Stars in the fight at the Rosebud. Yellow Nose, a Ute captive, had fought bravely beside his Cheyenne brothers. Blue Hawk had seen one bold Lakota warrior ride right through the midst of Yellow Hair's men.
There had been bravery among the whites, too.
It had been a noisy, bloody battle, and then suddenly it was over. Yellow Hair and all his men lay dead.
Now his thoughts turned to Kaylee.
Touching his heels to his horse, he rode down the hill and across the river, passing several young warriors wearing soldier clothes. One was blowing on a bugle.
He was nearing his lodge when Matoskah rode up beside him.
"Some of the soldiers are dug in up on the bluff, like rats in a hole," Matoskah said with a grin. "Come, we will flush them out."
Blue Hawk shook his head. He had had enough fighting for one day. Now all he wanted was to be with Kaylee.