Free Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance) by Janelle Taylor Page B

her, and her jaw tightened in annoyance. Here before
her stood the legendary warrior Waci Tate, son of a chief, a future chief,
the man who too often sneaked into her dreams at night and into her
thoughts during the day, the man from her shaman's dream whom she
was to join. How would it feel to be held in his arms, to feel his lips
and hands upon her body, to lie with him on a sleeping mat, to-
    "Dewdrops, come and sit with me," Tall Elk summoned her.
    Wind Dancer turned and faced the Brule chief as the woman sat
beside him, her gaze lowered to the clasped hands in her lap. He had
noticed her irritated reaction to the symbol on his face, and had seen
that emotion vanish and her cheeks warm with color. Her eyes had
made a swift pass over him from head to feet, and a glow had danced
across her beautiful face and in her dark eyes. Yes, he decided, he was
appealing to her, but that reality disquieted her. Now, all that remained
to be learned was her reaction to his shocking news.
    "Will you honor the words of the Great Spirit?" Tall Elk asked her.
    "Yes, Father, I will obey the commands of the Great Mystery, though
I do not," she began in a deceptively calm voice, then locked her stoic
gaze with Wind Dancer's equally stoic one, "understand them."
    When she paused and stared at him, Wind Dancer feared she was
about to shame him before his family and best friend by saying she did
not want to join to him but would force herself to become his wife and
do her duty. He was relieved when those words did not escape her
lovely lips. She showed great courage and wisdom in the face of inner
turmoil.
    Tall Elk smiled and nodded. "It is good, my daughter, and soon
their meanings will be revealed to us. While you prepare yourself for
your joining and departure, we will smoke the pipe for the Making Brothers ritual. Come," he said to his guests, "we will seek another
place to do so."

    Chumani and Magaju watched the men leave before they started to
get ready for the wakan kiciyuzapi ceremony and her journey. As Chumani bathed and dressed, and while her mother packed her belongings
and other gifts, she thought about what lay ahead for her. She would
be far away from her family, best friend, and people and would see
them only on two occasions-the annual trading fair and the annual
buffalo hunt-unless something important arose to cause a visit. She
would live among strangers, in a tepee with a stranger, be possessed by
a stranger. Yet, she must be doing the right thing, especially since the
awful news of the white man's sickness had reached their ears; two
hundred fifty wasicun trappers and traders and others, along with hundreds of Indians from many bands and tribes, had died from what they
called "cholera." The only good news was that the "epidemic" had
ceased to attack either side. News had also reached them that the Crow
and Whites were getting friendlier with each other, implying a truce
was wafting on the spring winds. If that-
    Falling Rain interrupted her thoughts when the older woman smiled
and hinted, "The face and body of Waci Tate are good to look upon,
yes?"
    Chumani selected a careful answer. "They are not repulsive, Mother."
    "He is a warrior of high rank and great skills; his coups are many."
    "So the stories of his deeds tell us."
    "Do you fear him, my daughter?"
    "No, Mother," she said, as she did not, in the way Magaju meant.
    "Do you fear the unknown and dangerous challenge before you?"
    "No, Mother, for it will save our people and lands."
    "Do you fear lying with him upon the sleeping mat?"
    Following a short silence, Chumani admitted, "I do not know." She
decided not to explain her troubled feelings, things she did not grasp
herself which might worry and sadden her mother.
    "It was not good for you upon the sleeping mat of Dull Star?"
    Chumani was a little surprised by that query. "No, Mother." She hoped Magaju would leave that trail of thought, as she did not want
to discuss sex with