Savage Courage

“Storm, there is something else I must tell you,” Dancing Willow said, turning to gaze up at him. “Of late, I have seen another face in the stars. The face of an ish-tia-nay, a woman. She is Apache born, turned traitor to her heritage: She lives as white in the white world. If you come face to face with her, your life will be changed forever. This is another reason I plead with you not to go down the mountain today. I see your face and the woman’s together. This is not good, brother. Please remain in the village today. Let someone else hunt the panther and look upon the face of this woman.”

“If you saw my face with hers, does it not mean that it is meant to be?” Storm asked. “Why run from a mere woman?”

She grabbed him eagerly by an arm. “My brother,” Dancing Willow said, her voice drawn. “If you go, your life will be changed forever.”

“No ish-tia-nay, not even my Seer sister, changes my life unless I wish it,” Storm said, gently easing her hand from his arm. “I will go today. I go now.”

He gazed at her slowly, regretting the signs of age the years had left on his sister. But although her hair was streaked with fine strands of gray, and wrinkles radiated from the corners of her dark eyes, she was still beautiful to him at the age of forty-five winters.

He sensed her loneliness, yet she refused to consider marriage. Like him, she lived solely for her people.

Disappointed that he would not heed her warning, yet knowing that nothing else she said would change his mind, Dancing Willow went back inside his lodge with him and watched as he prepared his weapons.

When he was ready to leave, he placed a gentle hand on her face and smiled. “I love you, big sister,” he said gently. “And thank you for caring so much. Had you not been with me through the years, I never would have become as strong a leader as I have. Your love and devotion made me a wise man.”

He bent low and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Dancing Willow,” he repeated as he stepped away from her. “But do you not think that it is time for you to let go? I must rule my own destiny, not your dreams or visions.”

“Be careful,” was all that she replied, then left his lodge as Storm went to his corral.

He mounted his black stallion, a beautiful animal with a white blaze on its face and white stockings. It was a wiry-looking horse, which he always rode with remarkable ease and grace.

He had chosen to arm himself with his rifle today, and it rested in the gunboot that hung at the right side of his horse as Storm kicked his steed into a slow lope from the village.

He traveled cautiously along the narrow pass and down the mountainside, troubled by his sister’s words.

She had predicted many things that came true. Was he riding into danger?

And . . . would he come face to face with the woman Dancing Willow had seen in the stars? If so, who was she, and what would she become to him?

Again he was reminded that he had not yet looked upon any woman with favor. He could not help wondering if this woman of his sister’s vision might change that.

No, his responsibilities must come first. With his chin held proudly high, he rode onward, his eyes searching constantly for the panther that had become deadly to his people.

Then the woman his sister had spoken of came to his mind again, and he wondered what she looked like. Was she beautiful?

He had to remind himself that if he did come across this ish-tia-nay, he must remember what else his sister had said about her. She was Apache, living as a white woman, in the white world. How could he not despise her the moment he saw her?

Yet . . . he could not help being intrigued by someone like her.

Chapter Five

Graceful and useful all she does.

Blessing and blest where’er she goes.

—William Cowper

Dressed and ready to explore this land that had belonged to her people long before the white man came, Shoshana stood in George’s office.

She studied him, finding it harder and harder not to look at him with contempt now that she knew what he was guilty of.

Yes, he had given her the best life any young woman could wish for. But she had been content with her world before he came with the other soldiers to kill and maim. She had never wanted anything more than to be with her family and her true people. She had never wanted anything other than to be Apache and to be raised as Apache!

But she had had no control over her destiny at that time. Now she kept the feelings that had been awakened in her quiet. She had learned how to control her feelings long ago when the white children at the various schools she had attended mocked her and called her a savage squaw.

Yes, she would work out her confused feelings for George Whaley inside her heart. There was no denying that he had tried in every way possible to make up for the wrong he had done her Apache people by treating her as though she were a princess.

But now that “princess” had come home. She ached to retrace her steps of long ago.