Wind Warrior (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon Page A

Chinook—she is one season old. You can give her another name if you would like.”
    “Chinook, strong wind. I like it.”
    Wind Warrior reached over and touched the wolf’s head. “I left food for her with Tall Woman. Take care of Chinook and she will take care of you.”
    “Thank you.”
    He studied her face for a moment, with seemingly curious detachment, and then he looked away, his gaze tracing the far mountains.
    “People say you most often live in the mountains, but since I have known you, you are usually here inthe village. Will you soon be returning to the mountains?”
    He thought of Dull Knife, who also was spending a lot of time in the village. Wind Warrior did not trust his brother around Rain Song, even though she had the protection of the chief. “No, I will not be returning just yet.”

Chapter Eleven
    Two Years Later
    Unlike the white race, the Blackfoot calculated the passing of time by the changing seasons. They did not measure hours by a clock, but by the amount of work accomplished in one day.
    Since Rain Song had been a captive, spring had come around three times; she was now in her sixteenth year. She had no knowledge of calendar dates, and her birthdays had passed without her knowing. By her calculations, the year was 1863.
    Rumors reached them that a great war had erupted in the white man’s world; only this time they were fighting each other. But that world seemed far away to Rain Song. Certainly the Blackfoot took no interest in the white man’s squabbles.
    Rain Song tried to imagine what her aunt and uncle were doing. She realized they would have long ago given her up for dead.
    Glancing at her stained hands, she shrugged and continued to grind the berries that she would later mix with nuts and dried meat to make pemmican. She worked silently beside Tall Woman, whose belly was swollen with child. Rain Song noticed Tall Woman tired easily these days and she tried to do most of the heavy work so her mother could rest.
    She had grown to love Tall Woman, and had even developed respect for Broken Lance, although he still made her nervous. He seldom spoke to her, and that was fine with her. On the occasions that he turned his dark gaze on Rain Song, she cringed inside, thinking he still disapproved of her.
    “Would you like a son or daughter?” Rain Song asked, pausing in her work.
    Tall Woman touched her belly. “I would like to give my husband a son, I already have a daughter.”
    “What was she like, your daughter who died?”
    “Although she was nothing like you in appearance, you remind me of Blue Dawn. She was kind and gentle and I loved her.”
    Chinook lay at Rain Song’s feet, contented to be near her. No longer did Rain Song feel the deepseated loneliness that had marked her early days with the Blackfoot. The wolf was like her shadow—Chinook was always at her side, even sleeping beside her at night.
    At first Broken Lance had grumbled about sharing his tipi with a wolf, but he soon accepted Chinook. Rain Song had once seen him lay his hand on the wolf’s head, but he removed it and left the tipi when he saw she was watching him.
    “I always wanted a brother or sister.”
    “Rain Song, this child will be a gift to us all.” Tall Woman gently touched Rain Song’s cheek. “As a daughter you are a great joy to me, and you have brought happiness back into the chief’s tipi.” Tall Woman pushed a damp strand of hair off Rain Song’s forehead. “I do not know what I would do without your help. This child I carry drains my energy. Youhave assumed the bulk of the work, and I am grateful, and although your father has not said so, I know he appreciates your easing my burdens.”
    For reasons Rain Song didn’t understand, she wanted to win Broken Lance’s approval. But somehow she never seemed to do the right thing as far as he was concerned. In all the time she had lived in his tipi, Broken Lance had not once smiled at her, or called her by name.
    Returning to her work, she