Sweet Savage Surrender Read Free

or I will do it for you," Skyraven warned the girl now.  It was a time for religious ceremonies so she did not want to quarrel, but neither would she take any insu lt from this spitting wildcat.
    "Lone Wolf would never choose you.  It is good that you have resolved yourself to losing him.  You are too pale, to fragile.  He will want a strong woman to warm his bed and give him sons.  Just remember that when you seek him with your eyes."  As a final warning she pulled  Skyraven's hair before she ran away.  Skyraven would have chased her at any other time but now as her grandfather motioned her to him, she fought her anger.  She would not foul the air with her angry words.
    Skyraven watched as the pole was brought back and the sacred lodge built.  Even after the pole was secured in the ground no one was allowed to touch it.  The sick and troubled were allowed to sit inside the lodge and were offered healing by prayers, gourd rattling and the roots offered them by her grandfather.  Skyraven put away her hostili ties toward Whispering Wind as she took a place by the medicine man' s side.  It was during the sun d ance ceremony that the tribe pu t themselves in touch with the s pirit w orld, her grandfather acting as the link.  Closing her eyes she leaned against a rock.  The soft splashing along the banks of the Platte River was a comforting sound, as if Man-Above was walking in its depths.  Skyraven gave herself up to the mood of contentment, but was startled suddenly by a strange feeling that swept over her.  A strange foreboding, an uneasiness as if something u nforetold was going to happen.
    Opening her eyes she looked around.  It was quiet.  Peaceful.  Why then was she uneasy?  Putting her fingers to her eyes , she pressed on the lids, as if forcing the thoughts away, concentrating instead on the soft chanting around her.  It was no use.  Over and over again she was overcome by the awesome feeling that somehow the soothing routine of her life was about to change.
     

 
    Chapter Two
    The distant mountains were a purple backdrop against the sky in the early - morning twilight. They could make good time today, Major John Hanlen thought as he led his men single file up the canyon which formed a natural gateway to the otherwise impassable barrier of bluffs and deep ravines bordering the Platte River . Their first day's ride had brought them to a tributary of the Repulican River where the cavalrymen camped f or the night.  Now they were asc ending from the valley to the plateau overlooking the same valley they had left.
    Hanlen knew that smaller groups of men moved more quickly than larger ones.  That was why he had hand picked ten cavalrymen and one guide, making an even dozen when he included himself. Bending close to the churning muscles of his horse, he sought a firm grip on the reins, thinking again how little he liked this errand he had been sent u pon, to spy upon the Indians. He had been advised to lead his tiny group of men into this  desolate area, to work himself into the Indian's confidence and report all that he had heard, p romptly.  It was his mission to discover the main camp, a job that made him nervous and wary.  Still, he was determined to accomplish his purpose and would , if hard riding and keen watchfulness would bring about success. They were riding through unknown country.  The Indians here were generally reported to be friendly, although lately, other scouting parties had reported seeing a few h ostile Indians here and there.
    Taking off his French style major's cap with the tall orange pompom, he ran his fingers through his long blonde waves , attuning his eyes to any danger.   He had no doubt but that coming across a group of galloping wild men would be an unwelcome experience.  Facing a  group of yahooing rebels was bad enough , but at   least the Confederates were somewhat civilized.  The same most certainly could not be said for the red men.
    Major Hanlen had been a