Ivy Page 5

He sat beside the dead woman and reached for her hand, which was cold and clasped it within his own.

  “Wakan tanan kici un—May the Great Spirit bless you,” he whispered, allowing the tears to fall from his lashes.

  A gurgle followed by a whimper startled him, and he bent closer to the woman. He noticed the odd way she lay, hunched over a rock and on her knees. Gently and with great care, he placed her to the side. His mouth hung open. A baby wrapped in a blanket lay nestled against the rock protected by his mother from the arrows that took her life.

  He picked the small child up and cradled it within the crook of his arm. Large blue eyes stared up at him. Chubby cheeks widened, and the child smiled.

  “You are silent like shunkaha—wolf,” he whispered, while running the pad of his thumb over the infant’s forehead and cheek.

  The scavengers had ceased their relentless cawing, and unease crept its way up Hotah’s neck until the hair there stood. He pulled his gaze from the baby to look out across the field.

  Kangi watched him from within the tall grass a hundred yards away.

  Hotah stood slowly, the infant still in his arms. He moved to the side, shielding the child with his body. Revenge pounded within his ears, and his hands twitched. Disgust like nothing he’d ever felt before curled his lip as he stared at his brother.

  Kangi had not changed in looks. Tall and magnificent, his long dark hair hung straight past his shoulders. He was adorned in deerskin pants, and several necklaces hung from his neck, but it wasn’t the outer appearance that drove the knife into Hotah’s heart. It was the dark aura expelling from Kangi that showed the evil he had become.

  They stared at each other for a long while before a small smirk turned up the corners of Kangi’s straight lips. He lifted the bow he’d held and placed an arrow within it.

  Hotah cuddled the child closer to him and rocked back on his heels.

  Kangi aimed the bow at him for a second before moving it to the left.

  Ivy.

  He turned toward her. She was sitting atop the horse, oblivious to what was happening. Every muscle within his body had become stiff and he could not move. Ivy was helpless with no sight, and he could not yell a warning to her. He spun around and sprinted toward her.

  Hotah heard the arrow leave the bow and ran faster. The baby cried out from being jostled in his arms, but he could not think of the child’s discomfort; his only purpose was to shield Ivy from the arrow.

  He lunged and yanked her from the horse just in time. They both fell to the ground.

  Ivy screamed.

  Hotah made sure the baby was safe and took the brunt of the fall on his back. Ivy lay sprawled beside him, and she scrambled to get up, fear widening her eyes. He tugged on her arm to keep her on the ground.

  “No!”

  She fought him. Kicking her legs and arms out.

  The arrow struck the horse, and the animal let out a screech before cantering off. Their shelter gone.

  “Let go of me!” she screamed.

  “Do not move!” he yelled at her. “We are being attacked.”

  She scrambled to her knees.

  He pulled on her dress, ripping the hem, but refused to let go until she lay back on the ground.

  “You must remain still!”

  “I cannot!” She pressed her hands into the ground desperately trying to escape him.

  “I will protect you!”

  The baby screamed, and his bottom lip quivered.

  “Is that a baby?” she asked and her body softened under his touch.

  Hotah knew he had to do something to defend them. He had five arrows in the quiver on his back but no bow. He’d left it in the fenced area where he’d found the child. Another arrow soared through the air. He heard it before it struck the ground a foot from Ivy’s arm.

  Kangi wanted to kill her!

  Hotah pulled Ivy into him so her shoulder nestled his chest. He placed the child in her arms before he curved his body around them, his back to Kangi.

  “What are you doing?”

  She was frantic, terror streaking her face.

  “You must remain calm.”

  “Did you steal their baby?”

  “The mother is dead.”

  The infant howled a deafening scream, and Ivy’s features softened. She reached shaky hands to the child upon her chest.

  “Shush, little one,” she said, running her hand along the top of the baby’s head, but the child continued to thrash its tiny body and shriek.

  Ivy hummed a light tune, then her mouth opened, and the most beautiful sound Hotah had ever heard came from her lips. She sang to the infant a sweet song he’d not heard before, and Hotah’s body began to relax, when an arrow lodged into his calf. He muffled the cry of pain so he would not frighten them and ground his molars. His calf tightened, causing the leg to tremor. Hotah dug his fingers into the ground, digging up the dirt, and groaned.

  Another arrow flew above their heads and bit into the dirt.

  They needed shelter and fast. He surveyed the area. A stand of trees stood in the distance ahead of them.

  “We need to go,” he said, listening as the light footsteps of his brother came closer.

  Ivy nodded.

  “Hold the baby close to you, and when I tell you to run, do so without hesitation.”

  “Where…where will I go?” Her voice held the panic he knew she felt.

  He glanced up again, figuring the trees were thirty paces from where they sat.

  “Thirty steps, Ivy. Take thirty fast steps.” He placed his hand to her cheek. “Can you do this?”

  “Yes.”

  With no time to spare, he hoisted her up to stand and pointed her in the direction he wanted her to run.

  “Go!”

  She took off, hugging the child to her breast.

  Hotah turned toward Kangi, who had another arrow nocked in his bow aimed at Ivy and the baby. He reached for the knife tied to the sheath around his leg. With the deftness that came from years of practice, he threw the dagger at his brother.

  The blade stuck in Kangi’s shoulder. Hotah broke the arrow that pierced his calf, let out a war cry, and ran toward him. He refused to let the pain in his leg alter his steps.

  A loud whistle blew from Kangi’s lips, and a spotted horse darted from the trees to block his brother from reaching him. Kangi climbed up onto the horse and took off.

  Hotah ceased his steps and fell to his knees within the tall grass. Chest panting, his breath labored, he sat there until every muscle in his body relaxed. What followed was a sorrow so deep he was sure his heart would break from it.

  Why? Why? Why had his brother wanted to kill the girl? He did not understand.

  “Ciya—my brother, what have you become?” he whispered.

  Kangi had captured Ivy and had not ended her life, so why was he insistent about this now? Nothing made sense. What purpose did Kangi have for keeping her alive all this time? Hotah wanted to cry out, to lash out at everything around him. To punch and kick and scream until he had no voice left. The immoral act of his brother had slapped him in the face, and his skin burned from the betrayal, the loss of love—the wickedness, all done by the one person he once loved. He prayed to Wakan Tanka to heal Kangi’s mind, to bring him home, but nothing seemed to work, and he was more hopeless now than he’d ever been before.

  Chapter Six

  When Hotah stood, the pain shot up his leg, and he lifted it from the ground to ease the agony. He retrieved his bow before heading in the direction Ivy had gone. Once he reached the stand of trees, he stopped to rest. The limb was forever damaged, and he’d need to get the arrow out before infection set in. The horse General Davis had given him was gone, and any hope of finding the animal was lost. They’d have to continue on foot.

  He pushed himself to take a step and continued into the dense trees.

  “Hotah?” She stood off to the side, hidden from his view behind the trunk of a large walnut tree.

  “It is me,” he said
.

  “Your voice is strained…are you okay?” She stepped around the bush to face him.

  He paused. Ivy held the baby to her breast, protecting the child from harm. He relaxed his shoulders and made his way toward her.

  “We need to find shelter,” he said in an effort to distract himself from the image of her and the child.

  She nodded and reached for his arm.

  He took her hand instead. The warmth from her touch hugged the sadness deep in his soul. It wasn’t wise to surrender to the feelings she stirred within him. He led her further into the woods. Hotah hadn’t considered how much he longed for a mate, a companion to share his days and nights with. Red Swallow had been the only woman he’d ever loved, and when she chose his brother, it broke his heart. It had been five winters since her death, and Hotah mourned Red Swallow as if she had been his wife and not Kangi’s. He refused to give his heart to anyone again. Ivy somehow softened his resolve and evoked desire to stir within his soul once more.

  He shook his head, unprepared for the surge of emotion that slammed into his heart watching Ivy with the baby. He scolded himself for thinking things could be different. His life was on the reserved land fighting for his people, while hers was free. He couldn’t help the resentment as it settled in his stomach. He wished for the liberty to do as he pleased, live the way he remembered, but it could not be so. He inhaled, forcing some of the reason back into his veins. Ivy was not at fault because of the color of her skin. The earth swayed, and he stammered. The loss of blood caused his head to spin. He took quicker steps, pulling her along behind him.

  One knife, the bow, and arrows were all that remained of his weapons. No blanket, no food, no horse. He’d make do, but Ivy and the child needed more. He was relieved when he found a small clearing within the tall saplings close to the edge of the forest.

  He led Ivy to a fallen tree and pressed her to sit.

  “We will make camp here.” His calf began to spasm, and he sat down beside her to ease the pressure in his leg. The denim slacks were soaked through, the broken arrow sticking through it.

  Ivy’s fingers skimmed his forearm, and he turned toward her.

  “You are not well. Something is wrong,” she said.

  “I am fine.”

  She frowned. “Why do you lie?”

  “I am not lying.” He didn’t want her to worry; besides, with her vision almost gone she’d be of no help to him.

  “You think because I cannot see I do not know you are in pain?” Her blond brows knit together, and full lips thinned. “You are like everyone else, assuming I am useless because of my illness.”

  The blue in her eyes was more colorful than he’d seen before, and he realized it was due to the tears she tried hard not to shed. His refusal to allow her to help had caused her great pain. He hung his head.

  “I have been shot with an arrow,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  She shifted the baby to the other arm and with her free hand began running her fingers up and down his chest searching for the wound.

  Hotah’s body heated from her touch, and for a moment he forgot about the pain in his leg. He fought the urge to pull her into his arms and devour her. He moved away instead.

  “We have to get the arrow out,” she said.

  “I will do this.”

  “I will help.” Determination angled her features and he knew she’d not cease in her will to aid him. The baby snuggled into her, asleep, and he touched the top of the infant’s head.

  Ivy smiled.

  His fingers lingered on the child, but the smooth skin of Ivy’s cheeks and the pink of her lips beckoned to him. A force beyond anything he could control drew him closer to her, and he gently ran his fingers down her jaw. She didn’t move. He licked his lips, longing to taste her.

  She stared at him, and he wondered if she could see his face clearly. Her ivory skin was like nothing he’d felt before, and Hotah marveled at its softness. Ivy put her hand on his chest and closed her eyes. He could not—did not—want to stop. Their lips met in a light kiss. Her touch set fire to his insides, and he delved deeper into her, savouring the feel of her lips and the caress of her tongue.

  Ivy moaned into his mouth, her fingers entwined through his hair bringing him closer. He wanted more, needed more, and his kisses grew more intense. She did not back away, meeting his hunger with an appetite of her own. Hotah caught himself before he ravished her. Panting, he stepped away, but not before he saw the hurt within her clouded eyes and the tremble of her bottom lip.

  He placed a hand to his chest, feeling the strong beats, as he concentrated on slowing his breaths. Hotah had never felt such a driving need before. Had it been so long since he’d lain with a maiden that he forgot what it felt like to be kissed? He closed his eyes. Ivy affected him like no other had before. He thought of Red Swallow. His admiration for Kangi’s wife had not gone past his long glances and fantasies. He peeked at Ivy rocking the child while she hummed. The woman with no sight provoked feelings inside him that he was not sure he wanted to explore.

  “I’ll clear the logs and make a fire.” He needed to keep busy. “Once this is done, and if the child still slumbers, I will ask for your help in doing so.”

  She nodded, sitting straighter.

  He looked away. The effect she had on him was startling. She had altered his fierce exterior, and he’d need to remain alert. They were still in danger from Kangi, and Hotah knew he had to keep his focus just in case. He picked up branches and piled them together. Once he had the wood placed where he needed it, he searched for two hard stones. Striking them together, he was able to light the fire. Every bend of his leg sent a jolt of agony followed by the sway of the earth. He stood and waited for the scene before him to go still.

  “You should sit,” she said.

  He went to stand in front of her.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked, to relieve his mind of the constant ache within his leg.

  “I do not know.”

  “We shall find out.” He took the sleeping baby from her arms and peeked behind the soiled cotton. “Ashkii.”

  Ivy peered up at him.

  “It is a boy.”

  She smiled.

  Hotah looked down at the infant. “Ciqala—little one—I shall protect you.” He placed the sleeping child on the ground before turning toward Ivy. “It is time.”

  “I need to find some yarrow first.”

  “What for?”

  “It will help with the healing of the wound.”

  “We will burn the opening closed.”

  She shook her head.

  “It is the only way to ward off infection.”

  “Yes, I understand, but yarrow will be placed around the burn to keep the skin from tightening and pulling a part. I will need this.” She stood.

  “You cannot go off on your own,” he said.

  “Yarrow grows in the sun. I will go back to where the tree line is and scavenge for some there.”

  “No. I will go with you.”

  She grew rigid. Her eyes flared in defiance and the set of her jaw.

  “Stay with the child,” she said.

  It was the first time he’d heard strength in her voice, and he smiled. Ivy was not weak, after all. She just didn’t know it yet.

  She disappeared within the trees, and Hotah stood. Worried she’d come upon danger, he picked up the child and followed her at a good distance, so she would not hear him.

  Pride at her resilience and fortitude to help him, he watched her scour the ground on her hands and knees until she plucked a handful of white clustered flowers. She brought them to her nose and grinned. She pushed herself up to stand; arms out, she felt for the tree. Ivy paused, her lower lip tucked between her teeth.

  Hotah stepped toward her when he realized she was counting. She’d forgotten how many steps it was to their camp. He did not want her to know he’d followed, so he waited for her to figure out the paces.

  Finally, after some time she steppe
d into the woods, walking past him and the child.

  “You did not think I could do this?” she said continuing past him.

  He remained silent.

  “I know you are there. I can smell you.” She walked toward their camp as he followed behind.

  “I smell?” he asked, bending his head to sniff his shirt. Smoke and sweat. Hotah stuck out his tongue. He’d need to rectify his uncleanliness.

  “Wood smoke, sage, and another I can’t quite place.”

  “Sage?”

  She took a large step, dragging the toe of her boot forward until she tapped the fallen tree she’d sat upon earlier.

  “Yes, from the necklace you wear around your neck.”

  How did she know? The sage and sweet grass were among the few other things in his medicine bag that he wore around his neck. Given to him by his father, he never took it off.

  “How can you be sure it is sage you smell?” he asked, curious at what she’d say.

  “I grew up around herbs, and my sister often used sage for healing.”

  He sat beside her. “You are very acquainted with the earth.”

  She giggled.

  He was taken aback at the sound, and how she had transformed right before him. The joy she felt erased the sadness he often saw on her face.

  “Wiwasteka,” he murmured.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He stared openly at her, seeing for the first time what lay beneath the sorrow and anger she displayed. Hope sat dormant within her soul, and he understood her even more.

  “Wiwasteka—Beautiful woman. You are beautiful like the meadow when the sun casts down upon it. The grass, flowers, and bushes sparkle as do you.”

  Ivy’s cheeks flushed, and she tipped her head. She plucked the white flowers from their stems and began rubbing them between her palms.

  “What is it you’re doing?”

  “I am softening the flower, so it will leak its medicine onto your skin.”

  The reminder of what needed to be done shifted his gaze from her and back to the injured calf. Now red and swollen, the leg was hot to touch. He placed the baby on the ground, making sure he was out of harm’s way but near enough to grab in case danger happened upon them. He lowered himself to the ground and next to the fire.