Her next problem was trying to cut them out. In Nikki’s inexperienced hands, the knife-like instrument Konah had given her was unwieldy, and she gouged a few holes in the skins before discovering a technique that would work for her. By scoring the material several times over, she wore a line thin enough that her cuticle scissors would cut it, though raggedly. Both scissors and hides were worse for wear when she finished.
“So, a little fringe along the edges will be decorative,” she rationalized. “No harm done.”
This decided, she enlarged on the idea, making the uneven strands longer. Only when she set about trying to sew the front to the back did she realize that she’d barely left herself enough material to work with and Silver Thorn’s new shirt might be just a bit snug.
“Oh, well, he’s probably lost a little weight during his recuperation,” she told herself. “And since this is more of a tunic, really, with no sleeves, that should automatically allow for more freedom of movement.”
Sewing modern materials with needle and thread was much easier than poking through buckskin with a fishbone and thick leather strands. In the end, Nikki resorted to punching holes in the hide with the point of her knife, and then jabbing the fishbone through in whipstitch fashion. The end result was a bit rough, the stitches uneven, and the fringe somewhat irregular; but for her first attempt, Nikki didn’t think it was half bad.
“Besides, this is a summer shirt and a few gaps in the stitching will just let the air flow through better,” she concluded.
Konah tried to be diplomatic when she saw the finished product. “You will do better the next time, I am sure. At least your seams appear tight enough to hold together.”
“I tried my best,” Nikki announced with a pout.
“I am sure Silver Thorn will appreciate your effort,” Konah said. “Still, I would not spend much time applying the quillwork. A simple design would be best, I am thinking.”
Flexing her blistered, pricked-to-bleeding fingers, Nikki agreed. She chose to applique a single thunderbird on the front. For the next three days, she labored diligently. The final product more resembled a lame duck with unbalanced wings and an offset eye, but Nikki was satisfied.
“Heck! If it’s good enough for Picasso, it’s good enough for me, and for Silver Thorn.”
If Silver Thorn had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, he hid it well. Moreover, he agreed to wear his new shirt the very next day. “I am going on a short hunt with the other men,” he told her. “We must have meat for our guests when they arrive from the other villages for the council.”
“Are you well enough?” she questioned, her concern obvious.
“I would not go if I were not,” he assured her. “You will not be afraid to stay here by yourself for just one day, will you?”
“No. I’ll miss you and I’ll worry about you, but I won’t be scared. I won’t set foot out of the village; and if I have any problems, Konah and her family can bail me out, I’m sure. You’ll be back before dark, won’t you?”
“Most likely. Do not worry, little goose. I will return to you safely. And I will bring more hides for you to sew,” he added with a crooked grin.
She forced a smile. “Yippy-skippy! I can hardly wait!”
Early the following evening, Nikki was making rabbit stew with dandelion greens and cornbread, determined that she would not ruin this meal. She was stirring the unappealing mess in the kettle, trying to convince herself that it would taste better than it looked, when Silver Thorn charged into the wigewa.
“Woman, you are in trouble!” he roared.
Startled, Nikki’s head jerked up. The sight before her made her jaw drop open and her eyes pop wide. Silver Thorn’s face was beet red, his expression as ominous as storm clouds. But it wasn’t this that held Nikki in a mute state of disbelief. It was his new shirt. Where just this morning it had hung nearly to his hips, the hem now rode just beneath his pectoral muscles, with a crooked line of fringe dangling across his upper stomach. The material that had draped over his shoulders onto his upper arms was now drawn nearly to his neck. And the center-slit opening at the throat was drawn firmly to his windpipe. The bright blue thunderbird now appeared to be trying to strangle him with deformed wings.
Torn between laughter and dismay, Nikki finally found her tongue. “What have you done to your shirt?” she shrieked.
“What have I done?” he thundered. He turned the question back to her. “What have you done? Did Konah not instruct you to smoke the hides before using them?”
“I . . . I did!” she claimed. “Well, I tried, but . . .”
“Apparently you did not try hard enough, or long enough,” he interjected angrily. “Had you done it properly, it would not have shrunk the moment I got it wet!”
“And how did you get it wet?” she countered.
“I slipped on a rock while crossing the river. That in itself caused me little concern until my own shirt began to choke the life out of me!”
Nikki could hold it no longer. Laughter erupted from her, sending her rocking back on her heels. Once started, she could not stop. Within seconds she was howling, tears of mirth streaking her face.
Silver Thorn’s voice boomed. “I fail to see the humor, wife. Because of you, my friends have enjoyed tormenting me the day long.”
Weak with laughter, she lamely waved a hand at him. “Don’t . . . don’t have a cow, for crying out loud! A little humility now and then is good for the soul, especially for someone as arrogant as you can be.”
“Are you saying you did this purposely, to humiliate me before my fellow Shawnee?”
He was incredulous, which only seemed to make his silver eyes bulge all the more. Seeing this, Nikki went into fresh gales of glee. Her sides were aching by the time she caught her breath again. She looked up at him, towering over her, impatiently awaiting her reply.
“I did not do it on purpose, Thorn, though I might have been tempted if I’d thought of it. You needed to be brought down a peg or two, if only to make you realize that you are merely human and not a god, despite your almighty powers. This time, however, it was an honest mistake.”
His face eased somewhat, though the frown remained. “One which I trust will not be repeated,” he warned.
“I’ll give it my best shot,” she vowed. Holding up her hand, palm toward him, she added impishly, “Honest Injun!” Once again she dissolved into giggles.
Her laughter, even though directed toward him, was contagious. His mouth, though he deliberately tried to keep it stern, began to quirk at the corner. Reluctantly, it blossomed into a smirk, and then a full-blown smile. “Blast you for a witch, Neeake!” he chuckled. “I should beat you. I should . . .”
“You should thank me for reminding you not to take yourself so seriously. A man who is able to laugh at himself is one who will be loved by all.”
He sat down next to her and reached out a hand to ruffle her hair. “I care not if no one loves me but you.”
“I do love you,” she said, wiping the joyous tears from her face. “I do, and I didn’t mean to laugh so hard, but . . . but you should see yourself.”
He grinned back at her. “I suppose I do look the fool.”
Nikki had a sudden inspiration. “Wait! Before you take that ridiculous shirt off, I’m going to get a picture of this!”
She scooted to the rear of the wigewa and rummaged through her backpack. “This is a Polaroid camera,” she said, holding it out for him to see. “With it, I can catch your image on a special piece of paper, almost like an instant painting. It’s called a photograph.”
She flipped open the camera and pointed it at him, An expression approximating fear flashed across his face. Immediately, she was contrite, knowing she should have explained more fully. “It’s all right, Thorn. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t do anything bad. I know in some cultures they believe that taking someone’s picture steals their soul, but believe me when I tell you that it doesn’t. This will simply produce a likeness of you.”
“I will trust you concerning this,” he stated tensely, as if trying to convince himself.
“You do that,” she said, offering him a conspiratorial wink. She looked around and decided that there was sufficient light in the wigewa for the camera to operate properly with the flash. “Okay, sweetheart, stand up, so we can get the full view. And smile.”
He stood, his muscles rigid and his smile as stiff as cardboard. “Loosen up,” she commanded. “Relax. You look like one of those cigar-store Indians carved out of wood. Except I’m sure none of them would be caught dead in an outfit that ludicrous!”
He tried, with little result. “Say cheese,” she suggested.
“Why?” he queried.
“Because it’s supposed to make you look like you’re smiling naturally,” she replied.
“Cheese.”
Nikki sighed. “That’s even worse. Now you look as if you’ve just bitten into a sour grape. Let’s try something else. Say money.”
“Money.”
“Your lips still look funny, like they’re stretched back over your teeth and stuck there. Say sexy.”
Still no success.
Nikki paused. Then she smiled. “Repeat after me. The big black bug bit the big black bear.”
“This is foolishness.”
“Do it anyway, to please me. Say it as fast as you can.”
“The big black blug blit the blig black bear.” Silver Thorn frowned. “No, that is not right.” He tried again. “The blig black bug bit the blig back blair.” He shook his head, as if wondering whose tongue was suddenly in his mouth.
She giggled. “Once more,” she urged. She readied the camera.
He concentrated and deliberately slowed his speech. “The big black bear bit the big black bug. There!” he crowed. “I did it!”
She captured his triumphant smile. The flashbulb startled him momentarily and he flinched, but only after the shutter had closed.
“See? It didn’t hurt a bit,” she comforted. With a whir, the camera spit out the photo. “Here,” she invited, patting the spot beside her. “Come and watch what happens next.”
Warily, he did as she asked. Apprehension quickly turned to awe as he watched his image appear on the black paper. “This is truly wondrous!” he exclaimed, taking the picture from her. As excited as a child, he pointed at it. “This is me! As I appear in Mrs. Galloway’s mirror or on the surface of the river when it is calm!” He turned the snapshot over to inspect the reverse side of it and seemed disappointed to find nothing there.
“What is it?” she asked curiously.
“Why did it not paint the back of me?” he questioned.
Nikki laughed. “Because only the front of you was facing the camera,” she explained. “If you want a picture of your backside, you’ll have to turn around.”
This time he posed eagerly, glancing back at her over his shoulder with a broad grin.
“Lord, I’ve created a monster!” she claimed. “A real ham! I only wish your breechcloth had shrunk, too, so we could capture all of your dimples on film!”
Once again, their dinner was burnt.
Chapter Fourteen
It became Nikki’s habit to “air dry” following her daily bath. Fortunately, with her olive complexion, she’d never had to worry much about getting sunburnt. Also, since no one in her family, most especially on her father’s side, had ever been diagnosed with skin cancer, Nikki weighed her risks as minimal and thanked God for her Shawnee heritage and coloring. Still, her natural skin tone was much lighter than that of the other Shawnee, and she figured a good tan would put her more on a par with the rest of them.
She was sunbathing alone, sans clothes, in a private glade near the edge of the pool, when Silver Thorn discovered her there. “Konah told me I might find you here, but she neglected to warn me of the delights in store for me when I did. What are you doing, just lying there in the sun, Neeake? Are you ill or too weak to dress and return to the wigewa?”
She propped herself up on an elbow and tugged her sunglasses off her head onto her nose, the better to see him in the bright glare of day. “I’m perfectly healthy; and if you tell me I look pale, I’m going to hit you. I’ve worked very hard to acquire this tan.”
He sat down beside her on the blanket she’d spread out on the ground. “But why?” he questioned.
“Because I’m tired of being the only paleface in the crowd. It makes me feel like an outsider, as if I don’t really belong.”
“That is absurd. You are my wife. You are kin to Konah and Black Hoof. There is no one who would dare claim that you do not belong here. Has anyone made you feel unwelcome?”
“No, but my eyes are the wrong color and my skin is too light. While I can’t do anything to change the color of my eyes, I can at least darken my skin this way.” She leaned toward him as if to emphasize her need. “I want to fit in here, Thorn. I don’t want to feel set apart by my differences.”
“But your differences are what make you special, little goose,” he pointed out. “As far as the color of your eyes is concerned, my eyes are also unlike those of my Shawnee friends and relatives. Even Tecumseh has eyes of a lighter hue, with brown and gold and other colors mixed together. Our Mandan brothers to the west often have eyes of gray or blue, and some have white hair in their youth. Many tribes have skin lighter or darker than the Shawnee, with more red or yellow cast, yet all are our brothers. All are made by the same Creator.”
“Yes, but I’m part white,” she countered. “In a way, that makes me feel like some poor relative, someone to be pitied and accepted here only on grace.”
“You are not alone, Neeake. Others of our number also carry white blood, but they are not despised any more than you. Still others were born white before coming to join us and being adopted into the tribe. Many, such as Blue Jacket, have risen to become great leaders.”
“Okay, you’ve stressed your point. Maybe I am being a little silly, but I still think a nice, even tan is to my favor. And I hope our child inherits your coloring instead of mine, right down to your fascinating silver eyes.”
“Is that why you have covered your eyes with those strange silver spectacles?” he wanted to know. “James Galloway has similar ones, though his are smaller and have clear centers. He uses them to see better when he reads.”
Nikki removed the mirrored, aviator-style sunglasses and handed them to him for his inspection. “These are sunglasses. The lenses are tinted to protect one’s eyes from the glare of the sun. I use them only in the sun since I don’t need prescription lenses to enhance my vision. I admit mine aren’t very stylish these days, but I prefer them to some of the other shapes.”
Silver Thorn turned them over, examining the frames, and held them up to squint through the lenses.
“Go ahead, try them on,” she urged. “Slip the side pieces over your ears and slide them onto your nose.”
The one-size-fits-all frames with their large, mirrored lenses fit Silver Thorn perfectly. As he played with them, tilting his head this way and that and peering over the top to compare the difference, Nikki clamped a hand to her bare breast, which was suddenly beating double time. She felt ridiculously like a teenage groupie, enthralled with a rock idol. With his cinnamon skin and his straight, Greek-god nose, he rivaled any film star for simple, straightforward, sex appeal.
“Eat your heart out, Tom Cruise,” she murmured.
“What?” He turned toward her, smiling, and Nikki caught her breath.
“You are the most incredibly handsome creature God ever fashioned,” she rasped out, her voice husky with desire. “Not to mention compassionate, loving, and sensual. Sometimes I can hardly believe my luck, that someone as ordinary as I could attract someone as marvelous as you. What kept you single all these years, Thorn? Back home, you’d be beating the women off with a stick just to have a moment’s peace!”
He plucked the glasses off and tossed them aside. As he leaned over her, his mouth hovered above hers. “I was waiting for yo
u, my love, and you are far from ordinary. You are lovely and beguiling, most especially dressed as you are now, in nothing but a smile and the kiss of the sun.”
“I’d rather have your kiss,” she whispered, twining her arms around his neck and drawing him nearer still.
“And so you shall,” he promised on a raspy growl that sent shivers of anticipation shimmering through her.
Their coming together was wild. Primal. Needy. A thing of feral lust, with little concern for preliminaries. All teeth and claws and urgency. When it was done, they lay together, panting, still reeling from the fierce onslaught of their passion.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Nikki sighed. “I have no bones. You melted them all.”
Silver Thorn mustered a chuckle. “Perhaps we will have to crawl back to the wigewa.”
“If we wait until dark, we won’t even have to dress first,” she suggested.
“Just remind me to collect my breechcloth from the bushes,” he added.
She blinked at him, perplexed. “What’s it doing in the bushes? I thought you were wearing it.”
He laughed. “I was, until you tore it off me and tossed it to the winds. I am left with nothing but the thong around my waist.”
“Not to worry,” she assured him, mischief dancing in her eyes. “I hear thong bikinis are quite the rage on the Riviera this year.”
Two days later, Silver Thorn again came upon Nikki when she least expected it, but this time she was sitting beneath a huge old oak tree in a clearing not far from the village—and she was crying. Instantly alarmed, he raced to her side.
“Neeake, what is it? Have you hurt yourself? Has someone else hurt you?”
With her head bent, she waved both hands at him in a gesture he could not understand. All he could do was wait for her to gather a measure of composure. Her lashes were glistening with teardrops when she finally raised sorrowful eyes to his. “I’m not hurt,” she gulped. “At least not physically. I’m just a little homesick, and heartsick. I miss my family back home.”
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