White Dusk by Susan Edwards Page B

left to return home.
    Each night he fell asleep remembering those weeks of bright, happy days with Emily. But when the night turned its darkest and loneliest, his dream turned to nightmare. Her screams haunted him. And he woke with guilt a large stone in his stomach.
    Her pain had been his fault. When he first found her and saved her life, he had planned to return her to her own people. But after just one look, he hadn’t been able to resist. He’d wanted her, and he’d selfishly kept her with him for most of the summer, knowing full well that he could not return to his tribe with her at his side. Not with his wedding to Small Bird already arranged. His breathing quickened. Just thinking of that final day added another arrow of guilt to the quiverful he carried lodged in his heart. It had been in his power to spare her the pain. He hadn’t. His hands shook as he replaced his pot of paint in his pouch. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, he put his guilt and shame away too. Picking up the reins, he led the mare through camp. As he made the walk to Small Bird’s tipi, children shouted and fell in step behind him. By the time he reached his destination, a crowd followed. Head high, shoulders back, he halted a respectful distance from the tipi of her parents. From inside he heard women giggling. Soon this whole ordeal would be over.
    Give her a chance, his uncle had said. But the blinding truth was, Swift Foot himself didn’t deserve a second chance—at happiness or love. He’d taken those gifts from another and destroyed them. He had no doubt he would pay for his selfish and cowardly behavior for the rest of his life.
    Lone Warrior came forward, snapping him from his depressing thoughts. Neither man spoke, not even the traditional Hau said in greeting. Small Bird’s brother finally broke the silence, speaking in low tones: “You marry my sister this day. She is no longer my responsibility but yours. Do not allow harm to befall her.”
    Swift Foot tipped his head back. “I am a warrior of name. Your sister will be taken care of. This day she becomes part of my family and tribe—as do you, and your mother and father.” He met Lone Warrior’s stare with a steady gaze of his own.
    Finally the other man nodded. “I will hold you to this.”
    “As I hold myself responsible for the lives of every member of my tribe,” Swift Foot pledged. Holding out his hand, he offered Lone Warrior the lead rope of the mare he’d brought. “As your sister’s Hakatakus, I give you this horse that you may bring my wife to me.”
    Though it had actually been Swift Foot’s uncle and Small Bird’s father who had agreed upon the terms of the marriage price, along with the merging of the two families and tribes, Lone Warrior was her Hakatakus. As such, he was entitled to her bride price. Swift Foot had given him twelve horses. Surprisingly, many of those horses had already been given back to Swift Foot’s people as gifts—which showed the family of Small Bird was generous.
    Swift Foot saw the struggle taking place in Lone Warrior’s eyes. He waited in the gusting wind. Finally Lone Warrior took the reins.
    “I will bring my sister to you as arranged.”
    Swift Foot inclined his head. All that needed to be said had been spoken. Turning, Swift Foot strode back through the crowd.
    Kills Many Crows stalked after him. “She is to become a beloved member of this tribe, but my sister is treated as if evil spirits live in her heart,” he hissed. Bitterness filled his voice.
    Swift Foot didn’t break stride. “Your sister is taken care of, provided for and offered the same protection as all.” The words sounded hollow, but there was nothing he could do to change Willow Song’s status in the tribe. Being chief did not mean he could tell his people what to believe or force them to accept things they would not. He led by example. In Willow Song’s instance especially, that was all he could do.
    “It is not right!”
    “No, it is not. In