White Dusk by Susan Edwards

forehead against the edge of the tipi.
    Where are you, my love? You promised to stop this wedding, she thought.
    Yellow Quail touched her shoulder. “Soon we will hold a wedding for you,” her mother said, smiling gently. Her eyes were eager and proud. “There are many fine warriors in our new tribe. Already we have offers of many horses.”
    Moon Fire moved away from her mother. She clenched her hands tightly. She was growing to hate being reminded of her duty to marry. “There is no one here whom I wish to wed.”
    There was only one man she wanted, and she’d wait for him. With or without the approval of her parents—she didn’t care.
    Yellow Quail sighed. “Daughter, your sister has found a man she wishes to marry.” She looked pleased. “Your father has accepted his offer. All that remains is you.”
    Waving her mother’s concern aside, Moon Fire turned away. “Let her marry then. I shall wait,” she said.
    Her mother’s voice firmed. “You will marry first—as is your right and your duty. By the next full moon.” She paused. “Your father has accepted a very generous offer for you.”
    “What?” Moon Fire whirled to face her mother. “He cannot!”
    Yellow Quail went to the doorway and shoved open the flap. “It is done. We shall have two weddings. Two daughters to two brothers.” Then she left.
    Stunned, Moon Fire stood where she was. A crack of thunder across the heavens spurred her to run after.
    Her mother had already joined a half dozen other women working beneath a shelter. Frantically, Moon Fire glanced around. The warmth of her tears mingled with the cold rain. Many Horns had to come. And when he did, she’d demand to go away with him. It was the only solution.

Chapter Four
    As suddenly as it started, the storm abated. The elders sitting around a warm fire inside the lodge smiled at one another, then left the structure. “It is a sign,” they told all whom they passed, a very good sign that the spirits were pleased with the marriage that would soon take place.
    The wind carried the message from tipi to tipi. Mahpiya had heard the Hunkpapa and answered by giving the people pleasant weather—at least for a few hours, at least for the wedding.
    Charging Bull left his tipi. He stopped to have a word with his nephew, who was grooming a horse right outside the doorway. “ Anpetu waste. Good day. It is a good day, and right that the heavens smile down upon my son on it.” He drew crisp, clean air into his chest. Time had narrowed that chest, but age had not stooped his shoulders.
    Swift Foot stared into his uncle’s wise gaze. No matter his emotions, he’d never do any thing to hurt this man who’d raised him as his own. “Yes, Ate. ”
    Ate. The title echoed in his head. It meant “uncle,” on the father’s side of the family, but it was also the same word for “father” and very fitting, for this man had been a father to him—the only father he’d known.
    His uncle narrowed his eyes, suddenly serious. “Do not try to hide your true feelings, my son. This man knows you do not go into marriage with a happy heart.”
    Swift Foot didn’t deny it. He chose his words carefully. “I will do what is best for our people.”
    Tipping his head back, Charging Bull gave a soft, low laugh that brought Swift Foot’s horse’s head closer for a rub. He obliged as he regarded his nephew. Taking his time, he finally replied, “Yes, my son. You have always put our people first.” His gaze turned sad. “Even at the expense of your own happiness.”
    Startled, Swift Foot tried to hide his emotions. He hadn’t mentioned Emily to his uncle, or falling in love and losing his heart. “I have family and friends. I am a feared warrior and will be a respected chief. Is that not enough to make any man happy?”
    “Yes, you have all those things, and more.” A wistful expression crossed Charging Bull’s features. “But you also knew love. And lost it.”
    Swift Foot swallowed hard. He did not