Free A Whisper In The Wind by Madeline Baker Page B

it.
    Michael felt a slight twinge of guilt, knowing that Two Ponies had been sure of winning Winter Song’s hand in marriage before he, Michael, had entered the picture. But his guilt was quickly swept away when Winter Song’s gaze met his. Face to face, they moved to the right and then to the left. The steps were simple and uncomplicated, and though they never touched during the dance, he was ever aware of the young woman across from him. Once she smiled at him and he felt the warmth of it touch his soul.
    Some time passed before he had a chance to dance with her again, and when the dance was over, he spoke to her quickly and quietly, urging her to meet him in the shadows, and then he left the dance lodge, wondering if he had been too bold.
    He walked into the darkness beyond the first lodge, certain she would never follow him.
    And then he heard the sound of her footsteps.
    He felt the blood pound in his brain as she drew close to him. She was trembling like a rabbit caught in a trap as she slowly lifted her gaze to his, and he knew that she had never gone walking into the shadows with any other man. But she had come to him. The thought filled him with exhilaration, and a sudden, unwelcome sense of responsibility.
    “Do you want to go back?” he asked.
    Winter Song shook her head. “No.”
    “Is it wrong for us to meet like this?”
    A shy smile curved her lips. “No. Young people often sneak away to be alone.”
    “But…”
    “It is best not to get caught.”
    Michael chuckled, amused by her answer and her honesty.
    Taa’e-ese’he, the night sun, washed her hair in silver, and Michael thought he had never seen anything more lovely than Winter Song standing in the moonlight.
    Murmuring her name, he drew her into his arms and held her close. Her hair was like black silk beneath his cheek.
    After a long moment he tilted her face upward and kissed her, gently. She had never been kissed before; he knew it instantly, and it pleased him beyond words. She would be his, only his.
    Winter Song gazed up at him, her eyes filled with wonder and surprise as she placed her fingertips to her lips.
    “Did that not please you?”
    “It pleased me very much,” she replied, and standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his.
    She was, Michael mused, a quick study. Her kiss was sweet and inexperienced and left him yearning for more, much more.
    It would be so easy to press her to the ground and make love to her. So easy…he let his hand slide down her back, along her thigh. He paused as he felt the protective rope. It was something all proper and decent Cheyenne women wore, a thin rope that passed around the wearer’s waist and was knotted in front, then passed down and between her thighs, each end of the rope wrapping around the thigh and down to her knee.
    All men, both young and old, respected the rope.
    And so did Michael.
    “Come along,” he said, taking her by the hand. “We’d better go back to camp before one of us gets in trouble.”

 
    Chapter Eleven
     
    It was surprising how easily he adapted to the Cheyenne way of life. Songs he had been taught as a child came back to him, old stories he had heard from Yellow Spotted Wolf, games he had all but forgotten.
    He practiced with his bow, wanting Yellow Spotted Wolf to be proud of him. He used a hide for a target; a buffalo hide at first, then the hide of an elk, then a small deer, and finally a rabbit.
    Yellow Spotted Wolf taught him how to track a deer, an elk, a bear, how to find water on the plains, which plants were good for food, which were poisonous. Despite his youth, Yellow Spotted Wolf had acquired a great deal of knowledge and he shared it willingly. If he wondered at his cousin’s ignorance in such basic skills, he never mentioned it.
    For Michael, it wasn’t so much learning as remembering the lessons that a much older Yellow Spotted Wolf had taught him at the reservation so long ago.
    When he wasn’t hunting or tracking or practicing with his bow,