Harlequin Historical July 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Warrior of Ice\Running Wolf\A Wager for the Widow by Michelle Willingham

Author:Michelle Willingham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Harlequin Historical
Publisher: Harlequin

Chapter Fourteen

The tribe departed the next day in a cold rain, following the wide trail of the buffalo. By midday the scouts returned with news; the herd was just ahead and they would make camp here.

Raven helped set up the chief’s lodge, and when it was up Spotted Fawn sent her to the stream for water. The rain clouds that had followed them all day now swept on without them. In their wake came wisps of steam rising from the warm, wet earth.

The mud tugged at Raven’s moccasins, making her footsteps heavy. She glanced to the sky, following the flight of a hawk as it soared on the wind. Soon she must also take wing and be away. For the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave Running Wolf behind.

Raven found Snake first, trying to help Wren raise the lodge of the old widow. Raven lent a hand and soon the poles were up and the skin stretched tight. Snake set the last spike through the hide, holding it tight over the lodge poles, and Raven released her grip on the tanned buffalo hide.

“Thank you, sister,” said Snake, wiping the sweat from her face.

Raven waved off the thanks. Little Deer arrived carrying a cradle board. Raven stared in astonishment and Little Deer laughed.

“He is not mine, sister. This one belongs to Snake.”

Raven glanced at the infant. She felt slightly ill as the reality of the task ahead of her landed cold and hard in her belly.

The old widow, Pretty Cloud, carried a bundle of goods past them.

Wren waved a hand. “You can say what you like before her. She is deaf as a chunk of wood. They ought to call her Stooped Woman or No Teeth Woman. I have to pound her food before she can eat it.”

Raven turned back to the problem at hand—Snake’s child.

But Snake beat her to the question. “Should I leave him behind?”

“If you bring him, he will be the boy born of the Sioux,” said Wren.

Snake rounded on her. “Do you not think I know this? Our people will hate him, these people will hate him. But at least there he will not be a captive.”

“He will never be accepted,” said Wren.

“What would you have me do, drown him in the river?”

Wren did not reply, but her lips pressed tight. Was Wren’s sour face because she thought that this infant would slow them or because she so hated the Sioux?

Raven stepped between them. “What is the child’s name?”

“I call him Stork.”

She looked down at the small, round face of the sleeping boy. He was innocent in all this.

“A baby is born of his mother’s tribe. That means that he is Crow and one of us. He will be no more to carry than a blanket or a buffalo robe.”

Snake’s strained face flushed red and tears welled as she stroked the face of her child. “Yes. He is Crow.”

Wren lifted her hands in defeat. “Fine. But what of Mouse?”

Raven frowned in confusion.

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