Read Online Wind Warrior (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Constance O'Banyon
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, adventure, Romance, Historical, Adult, Action, Western, Native Americans, captive, Danger, 19th century, multicultural, Brother, rescue, Indian, prophecy, American West, WIND WARRIOR, Savior, Blackfoot Tribe, Hatred & Envy, Plot, Steal, Brother Rivalry, Great Passion
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night in the village had now grown into rage. As far as she could tell, Marianna was comfortable in the chief’s tipi, withouthaving to endure a man’s probing hands on her body, while she found only cruelty and abuse.
At night she would pray that Charging Bull would choose to lie with his first wife, but he always came to her mat, forcing her to endure his lust. In the daytime Yellow Bird punished her for stealing her husband’s attention.
When Marianna approached the group of women, Spotted Flower pulled the younger ones into a huddle and whispered, “Ignore her. She believes she is superior because she was chosen as daughter of the chief. Do they not allow her to keep her white name just to please her? Is it not wrong for her to be so indulged?”
Marianna smiled down at a small child who tugged at her gown, then offered her the clump of wildflowers she clasped in her tiny hand. The child had become attached to her, and usually tagged along after her whenever she could.
“For me, Little Bird?” Marianna exclaimed, taking the offered gift. “They are beautiful, but not as pretty as you.”
The child laughed delightedly, and Marianna’s heart swelled with love for the small girl, so far her only friend.
White Wing, granddaughter to one of the council elders, watched the exchange and glared at Marianna. “I believe you speak the truth, Spotted Flower. That white girl never offered us friendship.” White Wing nodded speculatively. “It is up to one of us to teach her a lesson on how to be a woman of our tribe.” White Wing looked at each maiden. “Who will take her to task?”
“It should be you, since you are the daughter of an elder,” Spotted Flower told White Wing, and the others nodded in agreement.
With satisfaction growing in her heart, White Wing spoke. “Watch and learn,” she told the other young women.
With Little Bird’s hand clasped in hers, Marianna hesitantly approached the maidens. She expected to be rebuffed as she usually was. For reasons Marianna didn’t understand, Lillian took pleasure in making her life miserable.
Marianna saw the confrontational expressions on all the maidens’ faces and decided today was not a good time to try to engage them in conversation. Gripping Little Bird’s hand tighter, she hurried past them with quick measured steps. Sometimes the girls followed her, taunting and pulling her hair—she hoped they wouldn’t today. Since she had Little Bird with her, maybe they would keep their distance.
The four-year-old Little Bird was always fascinated by the color of Marianna’s hair, and she liked to cuddle in Marianna’s lap and stroke the blond braids.
“I like to walk with you,” Marianna told her. “You are the one who helped me learn to speak Blackfoot.” Marianna tucked the wildflowers the child had given her into the sleeve of her gown. “There is nothing I like better than to spend time with you.”
“Away from those mean ones,” the child said, pointing at the group of maidens watching them with hostile expressions.
“Little Bird, did you know you are my first friend here in the village?”
The girl smiled up at Marianna, her soft brown eyes dancing with joy. “You are my first friend too.”
White Wing stepped in front of Marianna, blocking her path. “Where are you going with one of our children? And why do you ignore the rest of us for the company of a mere child?” she asked, malice dripping from every word.
Marianna moved Little Bird to the other side so she would be away from White Wing. White Wing was a pretty Indian maiden with high cheekbones and large, dark eyes, but the frown that twisted her lips downward was not attractive.
Watching her carefully, Marianna sensed danger. “I am merely taking a walk with Little Bird.”
White Wing tapped Marianna on the shoulder. “She would rather go for a walk with me.”
“No. I would not,” the child said, her hand tightening on Marianna’s. “You cannot sing like she does.
At night she would pray that Charging Bull would choose to lie with his first wife, but he always came to her mat, forcing her to endure his lust. In the daytime Yellow Bird punished her for stealing her husband’s attention.
When Marianna approached the group of women, Spotted Flower pulled the younger ones into a huddle and whispered, “Ignore her. She believes she is superior because she was chosen as daughter of the chief. Do they not allow her to keep her white name just to please her? Is it not wrong for her to be so indulged?”
Marianna smiled down at a small child who tugged at her gown, then offered her the clump of wildflowers she clasped in her tiny hand. The child had become attached to her, and usually tagged along after her whenever she could.
“For me, Little Bird?” Marianna exclaimed, taking the offered gift. “They are beautiful, but not as pretty as you.”
The child laughed delightedly, and Marianna’s heart swelled with love for the small girl, so far her only friend.
White Wing, granddaughter to one of the council elders, watched the exchange and glared at Marianna. “I believe you speak the truth, Spotted Flower. That white girl never offered us friendship.” White Wing nodded speculatively. “It is up to one of us to teach her a lesson on how to be a woman of our tribe.” White Wing looked at each maiden. “Who will take her to task?”
“It should be you, since you are the daughter of an elder,” Spotted Flower told White Wing, and the others nodded in agreement.
With satisfaction growing in her heart, White Wing spoke. “Watch and learn,” she told the other young women.
With Little Bird’s hand clasped in hers, Marianna hesitantly approached the maidens. She expected to be rebuffed as she usually was. For reasons Marianna didn’t understand, Lillian took pleasure in making her life miserable.
Marianna saw the confrontational expressions on all the maidens’ faces and decided today was not a good time to try to engage them in conversation. Gripping Little Bird’s hand tighter, she hurried past them with quick measured steps. Sometimes the girls followed her, taunting and pulling her hair—she hoped they wouldn’t today. Since she had Little Bird with her, maybe they would keep their distance.
The four-year-old Little Bird was always fascinated by the color of Marianna’s hair, and she liked to cuddle in Marianna’s lap and stroke the blond braids.
“I like to walk with you,” Marianna told her. “You are the one who helped me learn to speak Blackfoot.” Marianna tucked the wildflowers the child had given her into the sleeve of her gown. “There is nothing I like better than to spend time with you.”
“Away from those mean ones,” the child said, pointing at the group of maidens watching them with hostile expressions.
“Little Bird, did you know you are my first friend here in the village?”
The girl smiled up at Marianna, her soft brown eyes dancing with joy. “You are my first friend too.”
White Wing stepped in front of Marianna, blocking her path. “Where are you going with one of our children? And why do you ignore the rest of us for the company of a mere child?” she asked, malice dripping from every word.
Marianna moved Little Bird to the other side so she would be away from White Wing. White Wing was a pretty Indian maiden with high cheekbones and large, dark eyes, but the frown that twisted her lips downward was not attractive.
Watching her carefully, Marianna sensed danger. “I am merely taking a walk with Little Bird.”
White Wing tapped Marianna on the shoulder. “She would rather go for a walk with me.”
“No. I would not,” the child said, her hand tightening on Marianna’s. “You cannot sing like she does.
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