Follow the Stars Home

Chapter 3

In the morning, clouds like red robes spread across the sky as Black Bear stepped outside his tipi. Smoke from cooking fires curled upward, making his stomach grumble despite his lack of appetite. To him, it seemed much longer than eight suns since the ceremony began. Much had happened. Instead of being in a stronger place, he no longer knew where the path ahead would lead-for him, for Quiet Thunder, for their people.

They broke camp within minutes, packing their belongings onto pony drags and smaller bags on the backs of dogs. Each tribe within the Seven Council Fires went its own way. Chief Red Horse led them west, but Black Bear knew no matter where his people went, more and more wasichu would follow.

He forced his gaze ahead as he rode beside Yellow Bird, but always sensed where Quiet Thunder walked. His heart told him she sensed his presence too. The few times he allowed himself to glance, she always faced away, and the sight of her stiff back stung worse than a snake bite. Their argument had confused him; he'd always thought they would share a life like every other couple. Quiet Thunder's stubbornness sometimes made his head feel full of bees, swarming so loudly he couldn't hear his own thoughts. No medicine could ease his pain except her soft words, the feel of her arms around him again.

The plains rose into hills with the cool shade of trees. Chief Red Horse halted and declared they would make camp. Before the light faded, all tipis stood in a circle, the horses grazed peacefully nearby.

When almost a moon passed, Black Bear still could not approach her, though the ache of loneliness grew. The past few days, he'd made a show of wanting her attention, whooping as he rode his horse past, or speaking loudly to Yellow Bird. She raised her chin high carrying the skin buckets to the stream, or picking berries, hiding her gaze, but he felt its weight. Wherever he went, she always seemed to be in sight.

The few times their gazes met, he turned away with a wild fluttering in his chest, not knowing whether he wanted to hold her or scold her. Whenever she walked away, she carried his heart along. He had to get her attention the only other way he knew.

****

Frogs sang at the stream, their trills echoing through the tipi. Sleep would not come to Quiet Thunder. The mournful cry of the flute, so lonely and sorrowful, mixed with the night sounds. She arose and paused at the tipi flap. She remembered Black Bear's harsh words and cold eyes, and went back to her buffalo skin. When the warmth of his embrace returned with the memory, she sat up. His refusal to treat her with respect cooled her, and she laid down, covering her ears. She wouldn't be his wife if he couldn't treat her as she deserved.

The next morning, she walked to the stream for water.

Black Bear followed on silent feet, and then stood beside her. "Did you sleep well last night?"

Afraid his sad eyes would tempt her to hasty forgiveness, she kept her gaze on her task. "Yes. Very soundly."

He hesitated, seemed to struggle for breath before responding. "Good. I thought the night noises might have kept you awake."

His anguish tempted her to admit the truth, but she couldn't. Not until he admitted his wrongs.

"Nothing except my father's snores, but I no longer hear those." She set one skin bucket on the bank and the other into the stream. "And you-did you sleep well?"

"Yes. The heat kept me awake a little while, so I went for a walk. But after that, I slept very well."

His bold lie caused her such pain, she jerked up her bucket skins and water sloshed out as she hurried away.

He stepped toward her, but kept to the side of her path. "I will help you."

"I need no help." If she had to prove her equality to him through deeds, she would. If she had to, she would hunt a bear, skin it, and throw it at his feet.