Wild Splendor

Sage drew his reins tautly and gazed about him. He knew this land well, for he had studied it many times, charting it out with his mind, in case a speedy escape from his stronghold was required.

He knew where to make camp for the night, where everyone could be safe. It would take only a short while to get there. They could even build a campfire to prepare their evening meal and to give them warmth during the night.

Raising his hand, he gave the silent order to travel onward, to follow his lead. He flashed Leonida a smile over his shoulder, then edged his horse back to ride beside hers. “We will make camp soon,” he said, noticing the weariness in her eyes. “We will be safe. As soon as tomorrow we will be building hogans at our new stronghold.”

He glanced down at Runner, who was fast asleep, turned so that he could cuddle against Leonida’s bosom. Seeing the awkwardness of the rope that still bound Runner to Leonida, and seeing no more need of it, Sage leaned over, untied the knot, and jerked the rope over to himself, dropping it into his saddle bag at the side of his horse.

“I’m worried about Pure Blossom,” Leonida said, giving the travois a troubled glance. “I haven’t checked on her because Runner fell asleep in my arms. I did not want to awaken him.” She laughed softly, stroking her fingers through his tousled black hair. “If he is as tired as I am, the poor child might even sleep a full week.”

Sage reached a hand to Leonida’s cheek and softly caressed it, then fell back to ride alongside the travois. When Pure Blossom gave him an easy smile, everything within him warmed. “My sister, we shall be arriving soon where we can make a safe camp,” he said, returning her smile. “You are well enough?”

“I am weary of being secured to this dreadful travois,” she murmured. “But, yes, my brother, I am well enough.”

Sage flinched somewhat to hear the weakness of his sister’s voice, which proved the lie that she was telling her brother to keep him from worrying. He wanted to jump from his horse and gather his sister into his arms.

He was not even sure that she would live long enough to see the paradise of their new village. This time it would not be atop a mountain, where the weather changed from morning to night, from scorching to freezing.

Yes, he was traveling to another mountain to seek refuge, but this time his people would live in its shadows, in a wide, fertile canyon, instead of on it.

There, where he had explored so often, were trees in abundance, for shade and firewood, and mountain-fed streams to water the gardens and his people.

Birds filled the air with their melodies, and flowers spread their heady fragrance far and wide.

The grass was thick and tall, perfect for the sheep and goats that he would one day acquire, even if stealing them was the only way. Whatever his people needed for survival, he would supply, even if he, too, was added to the list of renegades that rode the land at the midnight hour.

Sage’s heart pained him when Pure Blossom closed her eyes and fell immediately into a deep sleep. He blinked back tears as he studied her paleness and her gaunt features. She was so frail, it seemed that even a slight breeze might blow her away if she was not secured to the travois. Too soon now, he would be saying his final good-bye to his sister.

Sage nudged his horse with his heels and rode away from her, and even past Leonida. He had sent several sentries on ahead to keep watch, even though he felt it was unnecessary. He had traveled this land many times before, alone, and never had he seen signs of people, red- or white-skinned alike. He had watched the wild animals at play, their footprints the only tracks left in the dirt and along the damp ground beside the streams.

Yes, he felt confident in his decision to bring his people to this land, uncharted, he believed, by anyone but him. It was shrouded by thick trees, and clinging vines ran back and forth across the ground, popping and snapping in two as the horses rode across them. Sage’s spine stiffened when he got a faint whiff of smoke. His fingers tightened on his reins and stopped any further advance. He knew that all traces of smoke from the mountain and the valley below it, far away from where Sage and his people were now traveling, should have been left behind long ago. He had not smelled smoke since they had reached the halfway point down the backside of the mountain. And the winds were still as evening fell in deep pools of purple around him.

The smoke was coming from somewhere close by, instead of far, far behind him.

Sage’s warriors milled around him just as his scouts came riding toward them. Leonida scarcely breathed, afraid, yet not sure of what. The way Sage was acting, they were no longer alone in this wilderness. And she, too, now smelled the smoke. She also could read the expressions on the scouts’ faces and knew that possible trouble lay ahead.

She held Runner closely to her bosom and listened to the conversation between Sage and the scouts, frustrated when they sometimes used more Navaho language than her own.

But she heard enough to know that intruders were near, and not just anyone—Chief Four Fingers.

“Chief Four Fingers abandoned camp just as we spied him through the trees ahead of us,” Spotted Feather said, his eyes wild. “They did not see us. They rode off in the opposite direction.”

A feeling of hopelessness swam through Sage, dashing his hopes of finding shelter for his people after all. If Four Fingers was making camp close by, it surely meant that he had also traveled on land that until now Sage had thought was a paradise in its secrecy.

“And so the Kiowa stand in the way of our peace again,” he mumbled, looking up at his scouts.

“We did not pursue Four Fingers,” Black Thunder said in a tone of apology. “We were too few in number.”

Spotted Feather intervened. “And we did not think it wise to draw attention to ourselves, with our people only a short distance behind us,” he said. “It is imperative to keep our people safe, even at the cost of allowing Four Fingers to escape again.”

“And you were right,” Sage mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder at the anxious faces, not only of his people but of the white captives as well. He was beginning to regret ever having taken hostages. He must discard the captive women and children at the first opportunity.

He looked slowly around, into the stretches of trees ahead of him. For now, he must find a safe refuge for everyone, so that he could be free to go and search for Four Fingers one last time. If the Kiowa was near, he could destroy all of the Navaho’s future.

“What must we do?” Spotted Feather asked wearily.

“We will get our people comfortably safe and then we will go and search out Four Fin

gers . . . and kill him,” Sage said in a low growl.