AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I promise,” Pure Blossom said, giggling. She coughed into a cupped hand, then turned toward the door. “Now Pure Blossom goes home and rests.”
When she teetered, momentarily losing her balance, Leonida went to her rescue. She placed an arm around Pure Blossom’s tiny waist and steadied her. “I’m going to walk you home,” she said in a determined voice. “I’m going to see to it that you get into bed.”
“You are fussing over Pure Blossom again,” she said, smiling up at Leonida.
“Yes, I guess I am,” Leonida said, returning the smile. “And I see that you are allowing it this time.”
“Yes, it is easy to,” Pure Blossom said, getting more winded the more she struggled to walk. She leaned into Leonida’s willing embrace as they stepped out into the blinding sunshine of late afternoon.
Then they both stopped and stared at the approaching Indians on horseback. Leonida realized quickly that they were not Navaho. “Pure Blossom, who are they?” she asked as Sage and several of his warriors left an outdoor council to greet the mounted visitors. “What tribe are they from? How did they know to find the stronghold so easily?”
Pure Blossom twisted her face into a frown. “They are Kiowa,” she said, her voice practically a hiss. “They come and trade for our blankets and wool from our sheep, and even fruits from our gardens. They are few in number now, and they hide also from the wrath of the white man’s pony soldiers. The chief of this small band of Kiowa is Chief Four Fingers, a man I have despised since the death of my parents.”
“He’s responsible?” Leonida whispered back, her eyes following the chief, who was leading the others closer to Sage and his waiting warriors.
“All we knew was that renegades killed our parents, but Pure Blossom suspects Four Fingers is somehow responsible,” she said sourly. “He brought their bodies to the village. He said other renegades killed them.”
“Why would you not believe him?” Leonida asked, watching the hefty, middle-aged Kiowa chief dismount. He suddenly turned to her, closely scrutinizing her. A chill crossed her flesh, and she felt as though he was undressing her with his eyes. Although he was a handsome man, Leonida felt nothing for him except a keen fear. His eyes were not friendly. They were cold and guarded even as he turned away and reached a hand of friendship out for Sage to accept.
“So often he is known to be a man of forked tongue,” Pure Blossom said. “He has found only a measure of friendship with the Navaho since the white settlers came to this land that once belonged solely to the Indians. My brother, Sage, saw it was wise to keep alliances with other tribes of Indians in case war broke out between the whites and our people. In numbers the whites might be defeated. The Kiowa added to that number. So they are important now, but only until their alliance is no longer needed. Then my brother will send them away, enemies again.”
“They were once the Navaho’s enemy?”
“Yes, and it has never been an easy or trusting peace.”
Leonida was surprised when Pure Blossom wrenched herself away and began walking boldly, and with much more energy than she had had moments ago, toward the assemblage of Indians.
“Come,” Pure Blossom said over her shoulder. “We join the council. Sister and wife of Chief Sage are allowed.”
Leonida hesitated for a moment, unsure that she should, or even wanted to, then she rushed ahead and walked beside Pure Blossom. Her gaze never left Chief Four Fingers as Sage offered him a seat on a spread blanket in a gesture of friendship. When the Kiowa chief crossed his legs and then placed his hands on his knees, her eyes widened as she stared at his left hand. Its thumb was missing.
“How did he lose his thumb?” Leonida whispered, leaning closer to Pure Blossom so she would be the only one to hear.
“His story is that it happened as a child,” Pure Blossom whispered back, “when he tried to free an imprisoned raccoon that
had gotten ensnared in a white man’s steel trap.”
She cast a bitter look toward Leonida. “It is one of his forked tongue tales,” she hissed. “I am sure he got it in a cowardly act, not a courageous one. It is impossible for Pure Blossom to see anything about him that is likable—or trusting. I have warned my brother to guard his words carefully while talking to the Kiowa chief.”
They had reached the blanket. Leonida felt out of place as the Kiowa and Navaho warriors turned their eyes to her and Pure Blossom.
But following Pure Blossom’s lead, she sat down on the blanket; Sage’s sister gave her the spot beside Sage, on his right side. The Kiowa chief was on Sage’s left. When he leaned out and stared directly into Leonida’s eyes, she felt a foreboding in the pit of her stomach.
She looked quickly away from him, afraid, herself trusting him no more than Pure Blossom did. It was there in his eyes, the way they gleamed, that he was untrustworthy.
“You are aware that the white pony soldiers, led by Kit Carson, are perhaps dangerously close?” Sage said, trying to draw Chief Four Fingers’s attention away from Leonida. Sage wished that Pure Blossom had not joined the council this time, bringing Leonida into the center of attention also. Yet he was glad to see Pure Blossom showing revived energy. It gave him hope that perhaps her end might be delayed.
He understood just how little his sister trusted the Kiowa chief. Little did she know that he trusted Four Fingers even less. He was just tolerating the Kiowa chief because it was best to have him as an ally at this time instead of an enemy. Sage would even ride beside Four Fingers if it meant ridding this land of the white pony soldiers. Only time would tell which was most necessary—tolerating the Kiowa chief or the white pony soldiers.
“We have seen Kit Carson and the white pony soldiers searching the land,” Four Fingers said, turning his attention to Sage. “We rode quickly into hiding. Is it you he seeks? It was rumored that you walked away from the council you were having with Kit Carson and the others at the fort.”
He puffed his bare chest out proudly. “Four Fingers did not go to council,” he said smugly. “The humiliating words of the white man did not enter my ears and touch my heart. They did not reach as far as the mountains where I have my stronghold. There I stayed, minding my own business, leaving the white man to wonder how he can force this powerful Kiowa chief out of hiding.” He chuckled low. “And so it is now that they are looking for you instead of Chief Four Fingers. Did it not prove who was the most wise between chiefs?”
Sage’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed in anger. “You speak loosely to this chief with whom you have come to trade,” he said flatly. “Let us get it behind us so that you can return to your tepee and I can return to my hogan. The day is waning. I have other pleasures awaiting me than being with a chief whose words tire me.”
They discussed trading, making bargains between themselves that suited both tribes of Indians well enough. And when Sage thought it was over and had risen to his full height, even having helped his sister and wife up from the blanket, he was stopped dead when Chief Four Fingers said: “This white woman, she is your slave? She is one of the captives that I heard you took from a stagecoach? She is pretty. I will pay much for her. She will make a delightful love slave.”
Lightheadedness swept through Leonida at the Kiowa’s words. She reached for Sage and clung to him, glad when he felt her distress and placed a comforting, possessive arm around her waist, to steady her against his side.
