“Not at all,” she said blithely, unwilling to admit that it did. Quite a lot in fact.
She rode silently back to camp with him, let him lead away her horse, and went to the river alone to bathe her shoulder, wondering if she would ever get home again. She was beginning to lose hope that she would. And she would rather have been dead than be here. She was momentarily sorry that the boy’s arrow hadn’t killed her, instead of just wounding her. It had stopped bleeding by then, but it was a nasty wound and still hurt. She bathed it with the cool water from the stream and put her dress back on. She was walking back to their tipi when Napayshni rode back into camp. They had killed more buffalo that day than ever before, and he was pleased. He saw her as he rode up and didn’t notice the blood on her dress at first. He was about to say something to her, when she looked up at him with a blank expression and fainted dead away at his horse’s feet.
Napayshni was off his horse in an instant and picked her up. He had no idea what had happened to her, and then he saw the blood seeping through her elkskin dress. He called out to the women, and sent one of them to get the medicine man. He laid Wachiwi on her pallet as she slowly came around and then fainted again.
She was awake by the time the medicine man and an old woman came into the tent. The women had stripped off her dress, and Napayshni was inspecting her wound. His wives said they had no idea what had happened, but Napayshni suspected that she had tried to run away again, and something had gone wrong. And while the medicine man put powder into the wound, and a paste that almost made Wachiwi scream out, he went to find the boy who had been guarding the horses that afternoon.
“Did she try to escape again?” he asked him bluntly, looking ominous, as the boy trembled under the fierce glance.
“Yes. She did. You told me to stop her any way I could. So I did.”
“I didn’t tell you to kill her. You might have, shooting her in the shoulder like that. You could have grazed her leg.”
“I didn’t have time. She was going so fast. My horse could hardly keep up with her.”
“I know,” Napayshni answered. “She rides like the wind. Be more careful next time. What did she say when you brought her back?”
“That she misses her father and he’s old and sick. I told her it will be better for her here, with you.” He smiled shyly at his chief.
“Thank you. I won’t tell anyone about this, and I don’t want you to either.” If anyone had known he was so concerned about his captive, they would have thought he was an old woman, not the chief. He wasn’t about to become a laughingstock for her, no matter how beautiful she was. “You shot a bird and you missed. You’re a terrible shot, Chapa. Isn’t that right?” He coached him in what he was to say.
“Yes, it is.” He knew better than to argue with his chief. He had shot a bird. And he missed. That was the story, no matter how humiliating it might be for him.
Napayshni went back to the tipi then, and Wachiwi was sleeping with some potion they had given her. The medicine man and the old woman had left, and Wachiwi was dead to the world. She stirred once, and then fell into a deep sleep again as he left the tent.
She slept until the next morning, and she looked groggy when she got up, startled to be wearing only a blanket and not her dress, which was neatly folded next to her. She saw the blood on it and remembered what had happened the day before. Her attempt to escape had failed again. She was overwhelmed with sadness as she got up and put on her dress. She noticed then that there was blood on her moccasins as well.
Napayshni saw her as she came out of the tent. She looked as though she was in no condition to attempt an escape today. She looked tired and sick, and disoriented from the powerful potion they had made her drink.
“How is your shoulder?” he asked, as she stumbled past him and winced in the bright sun. All the men were in camp that day, and the women were tanning hides and curing meat. Their winter stores were almost complete.
“It’s fine,” she said, looking unconvinced. It still hurt, but she was too proud to admit that to him.
“Chapa’s a bad shot. He was trying to shoot a bird, and hit you instead.”
“No, he didn’t. He said you told him to stop me any way he could, so he did.”
“How many times are you going to do this, Wachiwi? This time you got hurt. You could fall off a horse trying to escape, and be killed.”
“Or be shot by one of your men,” she said bluntly. “I’d rather be dead than here.” It was the truth. She would never give up trying to go home until she was dead.
“Are you so unhappy here?” He looked sorry to hear it, and the truth was that he had been kind to her. He could have made her his own the first night, and she had been there for weeks now, but he wanted her to get used to him, before he made her his wife. She was no friendlier to him now than she had been in the beginning. He didn’t want to be rough with her, but she couldn’t keep running away forever. And sooner or later, someone would shoot her and kill her, or hurt her badly. He wanted to protect her from that. What had happened the day before was bad enough.
“You killed my brothers,” she said fiercely. And Ohitekah, but she didn’t say his name.
“It happens during raids and war parties.” He couldn’t change that, and he wanted her to be his. He wanted that very much. “Can we try and be friends?” He thought that if she could think of him as a friend, the rest would be easier after that, and she would accept him as her husband. She wasn’t the first woman to have been taken by a war party and given to a chief. Many of them became slaves. The other three women from her village had accepted it. Wachiwi had seen them with their braves and new families. They looked unhappy but knew they had no choice, and they were younger and more placid than Wachiwi. She had met them several times at the river, but the older women who treated them as slaves did not want them to talk to Wachiwi.
Napayshni wanted to give her more than the life of a slave or captive, and treat her as his wife. Wachiwi would have none of it. “You’re my enemy, not my friend.”
“I want you to be my wife,” he said softly. He was a great chief, humbling himself to a young girl, which was rare. In other tribes and circumstances, it would be an honor. But like the man who had offered her father a hundred horses for her and whom she refused, she didn’t want to be Napayshni’s wife. He had killed her brothers and the boy she loved, or his men had, which was enough. And they had taken her from her father. She would never forgive Napayshni for that.
“I will never be your wife,” Wachiwi said fiercely. “You will have to take me with a knife at my throat.”
“I won’t do that. I want you to come to me on your own.” She glared at him as he said it, but in spite of herself, something softened in her eyes. He was asking her, not telling her, or forcing her. That wasn’t entirely lost on her. Things could have been a lot worse. He was an honorable man, and treated her with respect, although she didn’t do the same to him. She had been harsh with him since they met. She didn’t want to be his wife or his slave, or his prize of war. “I won’t force you, Wachiwi. I don’t want to make you my wife that way. Go where you wish in the camp, do what you want. Be my wife when you are ready, and not before. But if you try to escape again, I will tie you up every day. You’re a free woman, within the camp. And when you wish it, you will be my wife, and never my slave.” He was not going to make another chief’s daughter his slave, and White Bear was an important chief. His daughter was worthy of respect. “Stay away from the horses,” he warned. “Other than that, you are free to go where you choose. On foot.” She didn’t answer him, and he walked away. What he was offering her was more than fair. But she wasn’t ready to make peace with him, and swore she never would. She was still planning to try to escape, every chance she got.
They were in their summer camp by then, and it was hot. They weren’t planning to move for several weeks. There was work to do on the game they had killed, the women were sewing, men were tanning and curing, furs were being prepared for trade. There were good grazing lands for the horses, and plenty of buffalo nearby if they wanted more. It was a relief not to have to move camp every few days, especially in the heat. And Wachiwi’s shoulder was healing by then. It didn’t hurt anymore. She was still waiting for an opportune moment to escape, but there was none now. There were too many people in camp all the time. She could never take one of the horses and ride away. She had no choice but to do what Napayshni had said, she could walk everywhere, but she couldn’t ride.
One day, she heard from some of the men that there was a lake nearby. It was a long walk, but she had nothing else to do. She had no children, no husband, and no official chores in camp. She was being treated like a guest, and Napayshni’s two wives did everything, even washed her clothes for her. Napayshni had ordered them to do so. And although they grumbled at first, they did as they were told, and treated her like another child. She had an easy life, except for the fact that she didn’t want to be there.
