Wild Splendor

Sage jerked one of the Kiowa’s hands out and held it out before him. Sage raised the knife, unflinching. But just as he was ready to set the sharp blade to Red Bonnet’s flesh, one of the others spoke up, stopping the planned torture.

“He is gone far away,” the Kiowa said, his voice anxious as he watched the steadiness of Sage’s knife. “We separated from him. We go our way. He goes his. He threatens your peace no longer. Nor do we. Allow us to leave. We will ride away and not look back. I vow to you that this is true.”

Sage eased his knife to his side, studying the Kiowa’s expression, trying to tell if he told the truth. What the Kiowa said did seem logical. Usually scouts did not leave in groups of four, especially if the band of Indians was so small in number anyway. Sending so many away weakened their defenses too much should an enemy suddenly appear along their path of travel.

“It is true,” Red Bonnet said thickly, sweat pearling on his brow as he watched Sage’s knife. “Let us ride free. We tell no one about you. You see, I understand that you are fleeing your stronghold. Four Fingers told Kit Carson where to find your stronghold. He did this to gain more freedom for himself from the white people. Kit Carson agreed. He allowed Four Fingers to go on his way. It was a short time later that Four Fingers sent us all away from him in groups of four, to find a life of our own. That is what I desire. To live in peace. If that is what you also seek, so be it.”

“Which way did Four Fingers go to seek his new path of life?” Sage asked guardedly. He sighed with relief when Red Bonnet pointed in the direction opposite from Sage’s planned destination.

Sage went to the three Kiowa who were tied together. He untied them and frowned at each of them. “You are allowed to go, but should you decide to go back on your word and I find you anywhere near my people, you will learn the most grueling ways of slow death imaginable,” he warned.

Going to his stallion, Sage swung himself into the saddle. He took his rifle as Black Thunder handed it to him. He gripped it tightly with one hand, and with the other snapped the reins and sent his horse into a hard gallop away from the campsite. As much as he tried, he could not feel at peace with the decision that he had just made. As much as he tried, he could not see Chief Four Fingers giving up all that easily to the white pony soldiers—not even Kit Carson.

“Kit Carson,” he whispered to himself. “He is next. He must make promises that I can believe.”

He rode back in the direction of his camp even though tomorrow he would search for Kit Carson’s. First he must make sure that enough warriors were left to protect his people in their temporary camp. If Four Fingers did decide to seek him and his people out, especially now that he must know they were no longer at the stronghold, his warriors would be ready for him.

Chapter 24

When from the frowning east,

A sudden gust of adverse fate is blowing....

—ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

The day had dragged along. Restless, Leonida had paced often as she watched for Sage’s return. When the sun began sinking behind the mountains and Sage and his warriors still had not arrived, Leonida could not help but think that they had met with disaster.

Hardly able to bear her thoughts, she focused them elsewhere. Going to Pure Blossom and sitting down beside her, she took Pure Blossom’s hand in hers. Sage’s sister was struggling to keep awake, also worrying about Sage, but her eyes drifted shut more often than not.

“I’m sorry about the blanket Sage won’t allow you to have,” Pure Blossom said, as she rolled over on her side. “It is finished. And I did not burn it as my brother ordered me to. It is among my belongings. When I die, it is yours. Tell my brother that it is a special gift from me, not the white man. As it keeps you warm nights, always think of Pure Blossom.”

“Don’t talk about dying,” Leonida scolded softly. “Soon you will be stronger. When we reach this land of promise that Sage is taking us to, you will become strong again. Sage will build you a lovely hogan. You will set up your looms inside it beside a fire and while away your days making lovely blankets and shawls to share with your people.”

“It is a pleasant thought,” Pure Blossom sighed, her voice silent. “That would make Sage happy, I know. All I have ever wanted was to make my brother happy. My body betrays my hopes and wishes for my brother. But soon it will be over. Pure Blossom will no longer be a bother.”

Her words stung Leonida’s heart. It did not seem possible to lose two friends almost at once. First Carole, who had died of a lung ailment, and now Pure Blossom, whose body had not developed fully as she had progressed from a child to a woman.

Yet both friends had accepted death so easily, more than it was possible for Leonida. The thought of Pure Blossom dying made a sick sort of feeling swim at the pit of Leonida’s stomach. This reminded her again to worry about Sage.

She looked into the darkening shadows of night, searching for movement. She listened intently, hoping to hear the sound of horses approaching. But she was not blessed with either seeing or hearing anyone approaching.

“My brother?” Pure Blossom murmured, her fingers tightening around Leonida’s. “He has been gone too long. I fear for him. What if Kit Carson found him?” Her voice broke with emotion. “We would never know. No one knows where we are, except perhaps Four Fingers. He would not come to spread the word of Sage’s capture. If he came, it would be to destroy the Navaho, or to take the Navaho as his slaves.”

Knowing that worrying was not good for Pure Blossom, Leonida tried to reassure her that Sage would be all right. “He will be arriving soon,” Leonida said. She slipped Pure Blossom’s hand beneath the blankets. The chill breeze of evening was already spreading across the land, the dew sparkling like miniature diamonds on the tips of the grass.

“I must get Runner ready for bed,” Leonida said, bending to kiss Pure Blossom’s cheek. She then leaned away from her. “Did you have enough to eat? You have scarcely been touching your food.”

“I require less each day,” Pure Blossom said, smiling weakly up at Leonida. “Go to Runner. Give him a kiss. He is such a fine boy. It is easy to see why Sage has accepted him so eagerly as his son.”

“Yes, Runner is special,” Leonida said, pushing herself up from the blankets. “Sleep well, Pure Blossom. Upon tomorrow’s dawning, I know that Sage will be with us again. Keep that thought and carry it with you into your dreams.”

Pure Blossom nodded, then slowly drifted off again into the protective cocoon of sleep.

Having already eaten the evening meal and finding it too hard to function once night had dropped its black cloak over

the camp, Leonida started to search for Runner but was surprised to find him already snuggled in his blankets, fast asleep.

Leonida knelt down beside him and caressed his brow. “My child, you played so hard today,” she whispered. “You simply wore yourself out.” She frowned. “But that is good. You did not even notice how long Sage has been gone. If you had, you would be as worried as I am. Ah, my child, how you would feel the loss if anything happened to Sage. You do love him. Oh, how you do love him.”