Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance) by Janelle Taylor

were covered by a warming hide, Chumani listened to the pops and crackles as new
wood caught fire and feasted in delight. She heard nocturnal birds,
creatures, and insects as they foraged and spoke with their mates, or
warned rivals away from their territories. A shiver passed over her, as
if she were lying naked in the snow; yet, her flesh itched as if she were
staked over an anthill. The nights were still chilly and the wind was
brisk that moon, and she was enclosed naked in a blanket, so she tried
to blame those conditions for her sensations, though she knew they
were not at fault. Her heart and body had warmed when Wind Dancer
gave her the blanket, gave her a mating reprieve, and called her, "my
wife."

    Chumani admitted to herself she was a little disappointed that he
did not lay full claim to her, as doing so would answer many of the
questions about him, their new life, and the contradictory emotions
which troubled her. She got little sleep, too aware of the temptation
nearby and the numerous uncertainties in her future.
    As was the custom, Wind Dancer sought a private place at the river
for his morning ritual of bathing and greeting the Great Spirit. Clad
only in his moccasins and breechclout, he stood straight and still as he
faced the rising sun and mutely prayed to the Creator of all things. He
gave thanks for his blessings and asked for guidance and protection in
the days to come. He closed his eyes for a moment as he ended the
holy communication, then took a deep breath of invigorating air and
knelt to finish his daily task.
    As he splashed water upon his face and torso, he noticed the flecks
and small nuggets on the shallow river's bottom which glittered like
the golden sun. He knew he could pull up clumps of grass which edged
its banks and find the same shiny mazaska zi clinging to their roots.
He also knew the white man would trade his very soul to collect them
and would encroach on this sacred site at any price of warfare to lay
claim to it. So did other bands and tribes, and all had agreed not to
reveal its presence in the sacred Papa Sapa or to use it for trade with
the wasicun. Yet, somehow and some day, he recalled with a resentful heart, the enemy would make that discovery and a fierce war would
ensue, for his grandfather had seen it happen in a vision long ago; and
Nahemana had never been wrong.

    The Oglala warrior heard the splashing of water beyond a section of
dense bushes on the bank where the river curved behind them and did
not have to be told his wife was there bathing. As he closed his eyes
again and summoned her image to his mind, his loins sprang to life
with desire for her. He warned himself he must learn to control his
urges or they would consume him and he would seek her out on the
sleeping mat before she was ready to reach out to him. Patience was a
virtue and he must practice it, no matter how hard or how long his
quest for her required.
    Chumani bathed in a hurry, as the water was still chilly even if winter
was past and the snow was gone. The sky was blue and almost clear of
white clouds. The winds from all directions were calm, and the day was
warm, warmer than it normally was for this time of the rebirth season.
Mother Earth had renewed her face. The grass and trees were green.
Flowers had bloomed. Nature had called out the the birds, animals,
and insects who were busy with the mating and reproducing season.
Perhaps, she mused, that was the reason behind her discontent; no, her
yearnings. Female urges and instincts buried within her were straining
to burst forth when she must hold them captive. Since she was so well
trained and well practiced in deceit and self-control, surely she could
dupe Wind Dancer about her feelings. If not, how would that influence
her future?
    Chumani could not answer with accuracy, so she pushed those
thoughts aside to return to their campfire.
    After sharing embraces and final words with her loved ones and