Kiowas, the bad dreams would return for many moons to torment her.
“What frightens you, Wild Wind?” Travis asked in concern.
She glared at him for his painful intrusion. “Go away. White Eagle is mean and bad.” She whirled and raced back to her tepee.
Travis waited a short time before returning to the tepee to find her sitting on her sleeping mat, pretending to be beading a pair of moccasins. When he heard a quiet sniffle and saw her inhale raggedly, he walked to her and dropped to his knees. Lifting her chin, he stared into misty blue eyes filled with anguish. As a tear escaped to roll down one cheek, she tried to free herself from his firm but gentle grasp. He could tell she did not like exposing such deep feelings or a loss of control. He wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her, thencover her face with kisses. He wanted to make love to this half-wild vixen, this part-woman, part-child creature, yet he dared not respond to such tempting hunger. “Do not cry, Wild Wind. I will speak no more of such days of pain and fear. You are very brave and special. Your people must love and respect you greatly. Do not be sad,” he entreated, for her pain had had an overwhelming effect on him.
She watched him master the urge to lean forward to kiss her, and oddly she was sorry he had found the strength to do so. He was a man of many emotions and sides, a man of great prowess. Only a man of enormous strength would have the power and courage to reveal tenderness, as tenderness was a strength of its own that few men possessed. She could tell that it was difficult for him to expose such feelings, for the look in his grass green eyes told her that he had once known much suffering. As an Indian, he had been raised to master his emotions and to depend on himself for survival. Obviously he had left the Lakota world, and she wondered when and why. He was a new man, but the old one had not died easily or fully. She wondered which part of him he wished to slay, the Indian or the white, for surely those bloods warred fiercely within him, as they did with her sometimes. It was terrible to be torn between two lands and two peoples, to be neither accepted nor rejected by either. Her gaze seemed to mesmerize him. He appeared capable of experiencing powerful emotions and seemed vulnerable to certain forces, though it was obvious he fought to conceal and control such traits. She liked these impressions, and she liked him when he was this man.
“Tanyan amaye, Wanbli Ska. Pilamaya.” She softly explained that she felt better and surprisingly thanked him as if it were because of him.
He smiled. “Ohan. “He went to the buffalo mat she hadspread out for him, for it was very late, and mused silently, Yes, it was “good”…
Wild Wind watched him lie down in his garments and moccasins, his back to her because of the angle at which she had placed his mat. Putting aside her beading, she checked the fire. She added small hunks of wood, mostly knots, for they would burn slowly and give off enough light to chase the darkness and ghosts from the tepee. Then she removed her moccasins and, leaving on her garments, reclined on her sleeping mat. She closed her eyes to envision White Eagle’s face, in order to study and admire it. Gradually she allowed herself to drift into light slumber.
Within the hour, Wild Wind was tossing restlessly and mumbling words that Travis could not grasp. She began to whimper and moan, and her head and body thrashed upon the sleeping mat. Travis eased over to awaken her from her nightmare. From the few words that came out clearly, he assumed she was dreaming about the Kiowas, whom he had recalled to her mind. He gently shook her and called her name.
In the horrifying dream, she saw her flaming-haired image fleeing the night-haired white man as she screamed for rescue. The evil man captured her by long curls of fire and jerked her to her knees. Large blue eyes and a muffled voice pleaded with him to let her go
“What frightens you, Wild Wind?” Travis asked in concern.
She glared at him for his painful intrusion. “Go away. White Eagle is mean and bad.” She whirled and raced back to her tepee.
Travis waited a short time before returning to the tepee to find her sitting on her sleeping mat, pretending to be beading a pair of moccasins. When he heard a quiet sniffle and saw her inhale raggedly, he walked to her and dropped to his knees. Lifting her chin, he stared into misty blue eyes filled with anguish. As a tear escaped to roll down one cheek, she tried to free herself from his firm but gentle grasp. He could tell she did not like exposing such deep feelings or a loss of control. He wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her, thencover her face with kisses. He wanted to make love to this half-wild vixen, this part-woman, part-child creature, yet he dared not respond to such tempting hunger. “Do not cry, Wild Wind. I will speak no more of such days of pain and fear. You are very brave and special. Your people must love and respect you greatly. Do not be sad,” he entreated, for her pain had had an overwhelming effect on him.
She watched him master the urge to lean forward to kiss her, and oddly she was sorry he had found the strength to do so. He was a man of many emotions and sides, a man of great prowess. Only a man of enormous strength would have the power and courage to reveal tenderness, as tenderness was a strength of its own that few men possessed. She could tell that it was difficult for him to expose such feelings, for the look in his grass green eyes told her that he had once known much suffering. As an Indian, he had been raised to master his emotions and to depend on himself for survival. Obviously he had left the Lakota world, and she wondered when and why. He was a new man, but the old one had not died easily or fully. She wondered which part of him he wished to slay, the Indian or the white, for surely those bloods warred fiercely within him, as they did with her sometimes. It was terrible to be torn between two lands and two peoples, to be neither accepted nor rejected by either. Her gaze seemed to mesmerize him. He appeared capable of experiencing powerful emotions and seemed vulnerable to certain forces, though it was obvious he fought to conceal and control such traits. She liked these impressions, and she liked him when he was this man.
“Tanyan amaye, Wanbli Ska. Pilamaya.” She softly explained that she felt better and surprisingly thanked him as if it were because of him.
He smiled. “Ohan. “He went to the buffalo mat she hadspread out for him, for it was very late, and mused silently, Yes, it was “good”…
Wild Wind watched him lie down in his garments and moccasins, his back to her because of the angle at which she had placed his mat. Putting aside her beading, she checked the fire. She added small hunks of wood, mostly knots, for they would burn slowly and give off enough light to chase the darkness and ghosts from the tepee. Then she removed her moccasins and, leaving on her garments, reclined on her sleeping mat. She closed her eyes to envision White Eagle’s face, in order to study and admire it. Gradually she allowed herself to drift into light slumber.
Within the hour, Wild Wind was tossing restlessly and mumbling words that Travis could not grasp. She began to whimper and moan, and her head and body thrashed upon the sleeping mat. Travis eased over to awaken her from her nightmare. From the few words that came out clearly, he assumed she was dreaming about the Kiowas, whom he had recalled to her mind. He gently shook her and called her name.
In the horrifying dream, she saw her flaming-haired image fleeing the night-haired white man as she screamed for rescue. The evil man captured her by long curls of fire and jerked her to her knees. Large blue eyes and a muffled voice pleaded with him to let her go
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