Page 80 of Red Hawk's Woman

“’Tis the Thunderer.”

Chapter

Eighteen

It was as an afterthought that Red Hawk bent down and washed the blood off his face. Tenderly, he felt his head with the tips of his fingers, satisfying himself that it was merely a flesh wound. It would hold.

Taking his pony’s reins in hand, he leapt upon her back. He checked his gear. His shield, with his medicine pouch, was tied to his blanket, which he used as a saddle. His lance hung by his side, ready to grip. Strapped over one shoulder hung his rifle, and upon his back, a quiver full of arrows and his bow were in place.

He was ready.

Glancing back only once at Effie, he urged his pony into a run, putting as much distance between himself and the wagon train as possible. His spirits soared as he burst out over the prairie, for at last he could place a cause to the mysterious happenings.

In truth, he felt grounded. Here was something solid for him to hold on to, something tangible to fight. Indeed, he looked forward to the battle ahead of him, had been boldly hoping for such a moment since before he could remember.

As he rushed his pony across the short, lush prairie grass, he relished the feeling of being one with Mother Earth. The wind raced across his face, seeming to speak to him, and he inhaled the life-giving force of pure air.

Clouds, which had touched down to earth, rolled toward him. Off in the distance, lightning struck the ground as the storm, much like a cyclone, sped toward him. His pony danced uneasily beneath him, but Red Hawk soothed her and gave her full berth. For this battle, he was prepared.

“Come and do your worst!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, as his pony reared. “Meet me, man to man!”

From a lone tree to his left, an enormous bird suddenly burst into flame, its ashes falling to the ground. An instant later, another bird came into view, this one larger than a monster, half black, half blue, and, as it flapped its wings, thunder spread all about it.

It was the Thunderbird, and with its breath, it roused the clouds, causing them to spin toward him. With its eyes, it spat lightning. The earth, being its target, burst into fire. But as quickly as it had come, the bird now disappeared into the rolling clouds of thunder.

“Are you afraid?” shouted Red Hawk. “Afraid to do battle with one who hates you?”

Perhaps he had spoken too soon. Clouds had settled upon the earth, and from out of their dust stepped a man, half black, half blue, with long, black-blue hair and lightning stripes branded over his face and torso. Thunder rolled across his chest as though it were part of his breathing. From his fingertips shot strikes of lightning.

He was the Thunder Being.

Red Hawk’s pony rose onto her hind legs. Still, Red Hawk held her in check. In preparation for battle, he drew his bow and lifted his lance, but then, unexpectedly from those same clouds, came a voice.

But it wasn’t the Thunderer’s call. It was a voice from Red Hawk’s past:

“Remember, Poor Orphan, that you are your band’s champion. You are not on an errand of revenge. Show your enemies mercy, give aid, but most importantly, do not engage in battle with the Thunderer even if you are able.”

The Thunderer laughed. “I will do battle with you, if you choose, Poor Orphan. Come.” With his hand, he urged Red Hawk forward.

“Haiya!” shouted Red Hawk, dismounting and striding forward. “You who have ruined my life, I will battle with you.”

“Do not engage in battle with the Thunderer, even if you are able.” So came the voice from the clouds one more time.

“Haiya! Saa!” Were his hands to be so tied? Was Red Hawk expected to do nothing, when at last his chance was at hand, when at last the Thunderer stood before him?

“Haiya!” Red Hawk uttered the word, as though it were a curse.

It took every bit of his strength, his cunning, his integrity to do as he knew he had to, for he had given his promise. At length, though every bit of his being rebelled, he turned his back on the Thunder Being.

Grabbing hold of his pony’s reins, Red Hawk jumped up on her back. Lifting his spear high into the air, he said, “As soon as I have freed my people, I will do battle with you. But, alas, that time is not now.”

The Thunderer laughed again, the clouds boomed, lightning struck the ground. Looking back, the last image Red Hawk beheld was the Thunder Being becoming a bird, which set off across the prairie. Black clouds rolled with him and lightning flashed, setting off fires over the prairie. But Red Hawk didn’t turn back.

But leaving the scene of what could have been a battle did not keep frustration from tearing at him. How could this be? At last, he was justified in doing battle with his nemesis; at last, the evil villain was within reach, had acknowledged Red Hawk by trying to kill him.

Or had the Thunderer tried to kill him?

The thought was disturbing. For indeed, if the Thunder Being had truly wished to end Red Hawk’s life, there would be little he, Red Hawk, could do. Aa, to be certain, he would go down fighting, but make no mistake, he would go down.