Wild Splendor by Cassie Edwards Page A

Navaho and attack Fort Defiance,” he growled. “Let us show them that they are wrong to go against us in such a way. Let us fight for our land to the death. That is the honorable way.”
    Sage nodded. “We will not go against the whole United States Army,” he said. “But we will use a tactic used before that made the white leaders stop and take notice. Although the strategy is unpleasant to me, I see that we must blackmail the white leaders into changing their minds.”
    â€œBlackmail?” Spotted Feather said, arching an eyebrow. “Why do you plan blackmail? And how will this blackmail be carried out?”
    â€œWe will use white women and children as bargaining tools,” Sage said, smiling slowly.
    â€œAnd where do we get these captives?” Black Thunder asked, as he curved his fingers around a knife clasped at his waist. “Do we take scalps from some and leave them dying beneath the sun, to prove we have others as hostages?”
    â€œNo, no scalps,” Sage said, his thoughts once again catapulting to Leonida and the beautiful color of her hair. It was as golden as the sun, and it gave him a feeling of foreboding to think even for a moment of seeing it hanging on a scalp pole.
    â€œAnd no, no deaths,” Sage said in a deep growl.
    â€œWhere do we get these captives?” Black Thunder persisted. “Do we raid the settlers’ homesteads since we are already being accused of the atrocity anyway?”
    â€œNo,” Sage said dryly. “We will not raid the homesteads to get our captives. We will go in search of a stagecoach. Those who journey aboard that sort of travel vehicle are usually related closely to those in charge at the fort. Those will make the best bargaining tools of all.”
    â€œThere are always military escorts,” Spotted Feather said, leaning his face close to Sage’s. “Do we kill them?”
    Sage glowered at Spotted Feather. “Did you not hear me say there are to be no deaths?” he snapped angrily. “We will avoid killing at all costs. We kill only if forced to save our own lives.”
    Sage gave his horse a fond pat, then walked away from it. He looked over his shoulder at his two scouts. “Spread the word. Let us make haste in preparing ourselves. I will be waiting in the sweat lodge for my warriors.”
    Hardly aware of anything around him, his mind so torn with feelings, Sage walked through his village, paying no heed to those who spoke to him from the doorways of their hogans or from the outdoor cook fires where many had gathered in the late afternoon. He was hardly even aware of the pleasant aroma of corn roasting over the large, communal outdoor fire, or of the sounds of the looms at work throughout his village. In his imagination he was experiencing an impossible dream that involved Leonida.
    He was feeling her deeply within his heart.
    He was tasting her.
    His fingers were warm on her body, arousing her.
    Oh, how he wanted her.
    Oh, how he was missing her.
    As he stepped up to the four-foot-high conical sweat lodge, many of his warriors were already assembling around it. He nodded to them, his mind now back where it belonged, on what was right for his people as a whole instead of just himself, a man who hungered for a woman.
    Sage shed his clothes while Spotted Feather built a fire close to the sweat lodge and began heating stones in it. Sage had seen to it that the hut was made large enough to seat as many men as were required for warring, and each of them bent down and entered after he had stripped himself.
    Wedged together in a wide circle inside the low, pitch-dark enclosure, the warriors sat with their legs crossed and their heads lowered. They were silent as Spotted Feather began shoveling hot coals into the lodge.
    After enough rocks were piled in the center of the floor, Spotted Feather set a huge wooden vessel of water inside, removed all of his clothes, then crawled into the hut