Savage Courage

He had forgiven her this weakness, for she had never done anything to hurt him, although sometimes she had embarrassed him. She did seem to forget that he was chief, and she only a sister!

In time surely she would realize that it was best not to enter into these arguments with him, especially while their people were listening.

“You misinterpret the word ‘satisfaction’ and how I use it today,” Storm said, keeping his voice as quiet as possible since he did not want Shoshana to awaken at this moment.

He tried to control the anger that was rising within him at the way his sister openly questioned him.

“I do not care how I misinterpreted anything,” Dancing Willow snapped back at him, then realized that she was treading on thin ice with her brother by questioning him in front of their people.

“My chief, my big brother,” she said more softly and respectfully. “It does not matter who this woman is, or why you feel the need to bring her to our stronghold. You must take her away while she is still unconscious and is not aware of where our stronghold is.”

“Big sister, do you not want the same vengeance that I want, the vengeance we have talked about so often since the deaths of our parents and people?” Storm said, controlling his anger and frustration. “When she was only five winters of age, this woman was taken from her people and raised by the wooden-legged man who brought so much sadness and heartache to our people those many moons ago. Our very own father shot an arrow into this white man’s leg. By taking this woman whom the wooden-legged man has raised as a daughter, we will be shooting an arrow into his heart. We must keep her at the stronghold. We must deny this man the opportunity to ever see or hold this woman again!”

“But, brother—”

“Listen and do not question what I have

done and plan to do,” Storm said tightly. “This woman is here to stay. Finally, you and I, and our people as well, will achieve a measure of vengeance. I would rather do this than kill the wooden-legged man. It will be good that he suffers, alive. Death comes too quickly and ends sufferings, especially sufferings of the heart. And if I should kill George Whaley, who was once a powerful colonel, it would anger the United States Government so much, those in charge would send out the cavalry to search until they finally found our stronghold. We would all be doomed then. Under my plan, the colonel will be made to pay for the wrongs done to our people. He will never know if his daughter is alive or dead. That alone will make his heart ache as it has probably never ached before.”

He smiled cunningly at his sister. “But best of all, George Whaley will never know whom to blame,” he said. “It is enough for me just to know that I have done something to inflict pain on him. It is not important to me that he should know who caused it.”

“Storm, I will say just one more thing and then I will be silent about what you have done,” Dancing Willow said. “Vengeance should be the last thing on my mind or yours. You are a peaceful man. You have always protected our people from misfortune. They have suffered enough at the hands of the pindah-lickoyee. Please, brother, if you must keep this ish-tianay, let us leave even now for Canada with our people while the white-eyes are not aware of our stronghold. But I say, leave the woman here for them to find. She has lived as a white-eye. She does not deserve to live among we Apache!”

In truth, Dancing Willow could not help feeling jealous about her brother’s obvious feelings for this woman whom he held so gently in his arms.

She could tell that Storm did not see this woman as a captive. He saw her as a beautiful woman.

It was in his eyes as he looked at her. It was in his voice as he talked about her.

Dancing Willow had been the most important woman in his life since the death of their mother. She would be less important if another woman crowded her way into their family. He would no longer come to Dancing Willow for suggestions . . . for advice; instead he would go to the other woman.

Dancing Willow must find a way to discourage him.

“Brother, you have always stood for good, not bad,” Dancing Willow said. “Forget the evils of the past. Forget your hunger for vengeance. If you continue down this road that you have begun to travel today . . . this road to vengeance . . . then you will become bad, yourself.”

She saw how his eyes narrowed angrily, and how his lips pursed tightly as he glared at her. And she understood. But although she had promised not to say anything else, she could not get past her uneasiness and jealousy over this woman.

“Enough, enough,” Storm said, then looked past his sister toward Four Wings, who was dismounting nearby. “Four Wings, come and help me with the woman.”

Dancing Willow stepped aside, bitter that her brother wouldn’t listen to reason and see the evil that this ish-tia-nay would bring into all of their lives.

An Apache-born woman who lived the life of a white woman could never mix among the Apache again as one of them. That this woman had come to their stronghold as a captive made no difference to Dancing Willow. She knew by her brother’s behavior that she would not remain captive for long.

Gradually, he would bring the woman into their lives. Eventually, he might even marry her.

That would be the worst of all evils, as far as Dancing Willow was concerned. She had to find a way to put a halt to all of this.

Four Wings took Shoshana in his arms as Storm lifted her down to him.

Then Storm dismounted and handed his reins to a young brave. “As you see,” he told the boy, “there is a young wolf pup on the side of my horse in my bag,” he said. “Take him home with you. He will be hungry. Feed him. I call him by the name Gray Wolf.”

“I will care for Gray Wolf for you,” the young brave said, smiling at Storm. Then he walked away with the horse toward Storm’s personal corral at the back of his lodge.

“I will take Shoshana now,” Storm said as he held his arms out for her. “Thank you, Four Wings. Now go for White Moon. Send him to me.”

Four Wings nodded and walked briskly away. All others turned and went their separate ways to their own lodges.

Dancing Willow still stood watching as her brother carried the woman into his large tepee; then she turned and stamped away to her own dwelling. She sat down before her fire and began softly chanting, her dark eyes gleaming in the fire’s glow. “She is bad,” she whispered over and over again. “She . . . is . . . evil. . . .”