By Love Alone

by Judith E. French

  The Bear Man whirled and peered into Kate's face. She jumped back and the gathering crowd laughed. From the folds of his cloak, the performer removed three leather balls and tossed them in the air, one after another. One ball disappeared, then another and another. Kate couldn't see how he managed the trick. Quickly, he bent down and seemed to pull a stuffed bird from a child's ear. The children laughed and begged him to repeat the act.

  The man with the flute danced around, blowing and capering. Two women got up to dance and the flute player tried to chase them away. They joked and teased, calling insults to him and asking other women to join them. Soon a dozen or more women were dancing. The step was very simple, almost a stylized walk of step-step-slide. They sang while they danced, and Kate was caught up in the steady, simple rhythm.

  She felt strange and wondered if even the water had contained some drug. She was light-headed and confused. Where was Pride? How could she be part of this Indian marriage they obviously intended to force her into? She wondered if Tschi would recover from his terrible wound. He'd lost so much blood. When had the fight been? Kate couldn't remember. It seemed so long ago... days, weeks.

  The drums changed their beat, and the women stepped aside. Three men danced, and Kate found she could understand their story without knowing the Shawnee words. They were telling about a deer hunt. One man took the part of the deer and the other two told of the chase and the kill. Somehow, in the simple motions and varied facial expressions, Kate felt she was watching the hunt take place. She clapped her approval when it was finished, and the men grinned with pride.

  Now, in total darkness, a group came from the trees on the far side of the camp. There was much shouting and laughter. Kate strained to see the tall warrior in the center.

  He came directly toward her, head held high. Kate's heart raced! It was Pride. He wore only the scant loincloth, and his cheeks were painted with blue and red. In his hands was a circle of wild flowers. He grinned as he slipped them over her head.

  "An old Shawnee custom?" she asked.

  "It is now." Wabethe's husband slipped aside and Pride sat next to Kate on the deerskin. Pride leaned close and whispered in her ear. "You make a beautiful squaw."

  The touch of his skin made her tremble. Drug or no drug, Kate longed to be cradled in those strong arms. She licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Don't think you're going to get away with this," she challenged. "It isn't a real marriage."

  "No? Then why are you so agitated? You look like a bride to me," he teased. Pride gave his attention to a new set of dancers before them.

  "I'm serious. Nothing is changed between us. You can't keep me in slavery, and you can't keep me with this farce of a marriage."

  The dark eyes turned on her, penetrating. "Are English customs the only ones you recognize?" He shrugged. "The ways of the Shawnee go back thousands of years, before the time of Rome, before the birth of Christianity. This is a marriage. You think you've been tricked into it. Maybe you have, but if so, the trick's on me too."

  "Then why...?"

  "Shut up, woman, and watch the entertainment."

  "You don't want this any more than I do," Kate hissed.

  Pride looked at her openly and the guests twittered. "Make up your mind. There is nothing you can do but go through with the ceremony and make the best of it. Whether we want it or not, it's fate. We were destined to be joined, ki-te-hi. In this life... and in the next if we don't fulfill our karma."

  Kate's mouth fell open stupidly. A little girl giggled, and Kate flushed. "What are you talking about?" Ki-te-hi. He had called her ki-te-hi. The sounds were sweet in her ears. She stiffened. He must not know how she felt, now that he'd admitted he was against the ceremony. "I'll go through with it," she agreed. "But I wanted you to know that it isn't willingly."

  "So now I know. Shut up and watch the dancing."

  "But—"

  The drums stopped and Rainbow Girl came forward, aided by a younger woman. From a birch-bark bowl, she took a round, flat corncake and offered it to Kate.

  She looked hesitantly at Pride.

  "Take it. Break it in two. Eat one half and give the rest to me." Pride took her elbow and motioned her to stand.

  The bread was dry and sweet. She forced her hand not to tremble as she gave a portion to the man towering over her. Had he always been so big?

  Next, the old woman poured a tiny bit of white substance into Pride's open hand.

  "Salt," he explained, tasting some and placing a few grains between Kate's lips.

  The younger woman gave Rainbow Girl a soapstone bowl of water, and she held it out to Pride. He took it and offered it to Kate. She sipped and he did the same, then handed back the precious bowl.

  Rainbow Girl raised her withered hands and offered a prayer in Shawnee, then took Kate's hands and placed them in Pride's. Shouts of joy filled Kate's ears.

  "That's it?"

  "That's it." He bent and kissed her to the delight of the wedding guests. They hooted and called out at the strange custom! "You're now an official Shawnee wife," Pride chuckled, "with all the rights... and duties." He leered mischievously.

  The Shawnee and Delaware crowded around them, pushing good-naturedly. Kate found herself propelled to the far end of the village. Wabethe caught her hand and pulled her free from the well-wishers. Giggling, she embraced Kate and whispered advice.

  "I can't understand a word you're saying," Kate protested. "Speak English, please. "

  "Wigwam! Belong you," Wabethe repeated. "Here." She pointed to a new hut. "Belong Ki-te-hi Equiwa." She gave Kate a little shove.

  Pride was deposited beside the blushing bride. "The sooner we go inside, the sooner they'll go back to the party and leave us in peace," he said. "May I have your leave to enter, m' lady?"

  Kate looked at him in bewilderment.

  "The house is yours, wife. I may not enter without your permission. Do I have it?" Kate nodded helplessly and he grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. He dropped the skin door flap in place and the crowd roared with laughter.

  Kate backed away and sat down on a skin rug by the fire. The wigwam was spotless. Dried meat hung from the saplings overhead. Baskets and bowls of food were stacked neatly along one side. A sleeping platform, covered with soft pelts, dominated the hut. Her wedding gifts were laid out beside it.

  Pride squatted by the doorway until the noise outside lessened. A few more shouts and catcalls were heard, and then the voices faded. "See," he boasted. "What did I tell you?"

  "You don't have to—"

  "Shhh!" Pride held his finger to his lips. "Not a sound," he whispered. His eyes searched the wigwam.

  "What's the matter? What's wrong?" she mouthed silently.

  He laughed. "Nothing, Katy. Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to enjoy looking at you without hearing your mouth."

  "Damn you!" She couldn't quite hold back a snort of laughter. "I thought we were being attacked!"

  He caught her hand and pulled her to the sleeping platform. "Be sweet to me, wench. 'Tis my wedding night."

  "Be sweet to you? I'll be sweet—"

  Pride stilled her threats with a lingering kiss. Kate cupped her hands behind his neck and pulled him tightly against her. "This isn't going to work," she murmured softly.

  He sat up and fixed her with an accusing stare. "Is this any way to treat a bridegroom? An injured bridegroom?" He touched the angry wound on his head. "Heart Woman? They should have named you Heart of Stone Woman!"

  "That old woman seems to have great power in the tribe. Who is she?" Kate drew her legs up and sat cross-legged on the platform, hands folded under her chin. "I like her."

  "Quaghcunnega Squithetha? She's my cocumtha, my grandmother. Actually, she's my great-grandmother. She's quite a woman. She was born a Lenni Lenape and married into the tribe. The Lenapes are highly spiritual; they have great personal power. She was a medicine woman among her own people as a girl. They claimed she can ride rainbows."

  Kate laughed. "Well, it sounds
like fun. I wish she'd tell me the secret."

  "The Delaware take it very seriously." He shrugged. "When I was a boy... Well, who knows, maybe she can. Anyway, she's my mother's grandmother and I spent a lot of time in her wigwam as a child. Among the Shawnee, the mother's people are more important than the father's."

  "Why?"

  Pride grinned. "Every child has a mother. When it comes to fathers, who can say for sure? There are no illegitimate children among the Shawnee." He ran his fingers along Kate's bare arm. "Am I to spend my wedding night telling folklore?"

  Kate pulled her arm away, trying not to admit the thrill she felt at his touch. "Pride... I..." He laid a gentle kiss just above the silver armband, and she trembled.

  "For tonight, Kate, can't we put away the anger and fear? Tomorrow will be time enough for plans and recriminations. This is a sacred night for Ki-te-hi and Chobeka. I'm tired and my head hurts like hell. All I want is you curled beside me. I want you soft and tender, not coiled like a rattler ready to strike. Kate?" he murmured huskily.

  The first drops of rain were beginning to hit the bark roof overhead. The fire hissed as water dropped onto the coals in the center of the wigwam. Kate could hear the rustle of the pine boughs in the wind. Suddenly, she too was exhausted.

  "If we make a truce for the night, you won't break it?" she questioned. "Promise?"

  "I won't break it." Pride stretched out, next to the wall, and lay down, his head propped up on one elbow. In the firelight, he was a bronze god out of some ancient legend, and Kate's blood quickened.

  "Swear?"

  "Are you going to keep up this nonsense all night? I said I wouldn't bother you." His mouth tightened into a taut line.

  "It's really too warm for a fire, but if I put it out the mosquitoes will eat us alive," she hedged, slipping off the beaded moccasins and putting them at the foot of the bed.

  "You're not supposed to sleep in the dress." Pride turned his back to her and snuggled down in the bearskin sheet.

  "Is Tschi alive?"

  "I don't want to talk about Tschi. I should have killed him." The wide shoulders tensed, and the loincloth fell away to reveal the full length of Pride's hip and thigh. "Maybe you'd have preferred to honeymoon with him."

  The little-boy slight in his voice made her smile. "No," Kate admitted. "Tschi's worse than you." She slid off the armband. "I hate him."

  "You hate me, remember."

  "I hate him more than I hate you." She removed one earring and looked for a safe place to put it. "He is your brother. I only wanted to know if he died."

  "He's not dead yet."

  "Who's taking care of him? That woman who stole my moccasins? The camp slut?"

  Pride turned his head and glared at her. "Where did you get that foul mouth? For a woman who claims to be a lady, you use the coarsest language. And yes, that's who's patching up his wounds."

  "It's a wonder he doesn't already have a wife. And children."

  "Tschi doesn't have trouble getting a woman, just keeping them. He's had three." He sat up. "Are you coming to bed or not? If you're not, shut up so I can get to sleep."

  "Three wives? You mean I would be number four?" Kate dropped the earrings into a clay bowl and they tinkled together. "Four wives? And how many children?"

  "None. That's why his last wife divorced him. They fought over whose fault it was." Pride turned back to the wall.

  "She divorced him?"

  "The Shawnee recognize divorce. All you have to do to be rid of me—after a suitable period of time—is to set my bow and moccasins outside the wigwam, and announce publicly that you're divorcing me. Of course, you'll have to learn the language first. It wouldn't be legal in English," he chuckled.

  "Then I'll start lessons first thing in the morning," Kate teased, slipping the tight buckskin dress over her head.

  "Good. I'll teach you."

  The corners of Kate's mouth turned up in a smile as she crawled into bed beside him, wearing nothing but her feathered braids. If she had her way, her husband would get little sleep this night.

  Chapter 14

  They lay back to back, bare skin inches apart. Pride's breathing was slow and steady. Kate was certain he was pretending to be asleep. The rain was falling heavily; the wind brought a relief from the humid heat of August. Kate stretched, catlike, reveling in the soft fur against her body. "Pride?" she whispered. No answer. "Are you asleep?"

  Since she was a little girl, rain had affected her this way. It made her dreamy and lazy. She pictured in her mind the wet forest around the snug hut. Here, they were warm and dry, sheltered from the world. "Pride? Chobeka?"

  "Hmmm?"

  Kate rolled over. "Want me to scratch your back?"

  "Let me sleep," he mumbled.

  Kate drew five fingers across one shoulder and down the center of his backbone. "Doesn't that feel good?"

  "Mmm."

  Kate began to scratch circles on his back, and then to rub the thick, corded neck. She rubbed a hand across the bare spots on his head and giggled. "You look ridiculous. Why did you let them shave your head?"

  "It isn't shaved."

  "Don't tell me it isn't shaved. Look at you. It's barbaric." She ran her hand over the stiff crest. "You had such beautiful hair and you let them pluck you like an egg."

  "Umm-hmm. That's how they do it. They pull the hairs out with a clamshell. They shave that way too."

  "That's why you don't have hair on your chest? You pluck it with shells?" Kate ran her tongue down an inch of backbone. "You are a savage, Pride Ashton."

  "Leave me be, woman," he grumbled. "There's no pleasing you! I promised you I'd not partake of your charms tonight. Now, stop tormenting me." He pushed Kate's hand away. "Damn independent squaw! Three hours a Shawnee and you've picked up all their bad habits."

  "I want to know why a grown man wants to look like a half-starved buzzard."

  "It's a war-lock. The Shawnee warriors wear their hair that way for two reasons. First, they think it frightens the enemy. Two, an enemy can't get a good hold on you to cut your head off. I did it because I didn't want Tschi to kill me."

  "Oh." She massaged the knotted muscles of his shoulders.

  "Stop tormenting me. Are you possessed by Maté-kanis?"

  Kate stopped rubbing and sat up. "Matey who?"

  "Maté-kanis. He's a little brown creature—something like a dwarf—that lives in the deep forest. He plays tricks on people." Pride hunched down and covered his head with his arm. "Please! Let me sleep. I'm sore, I hurt all over. I'm tired. Go find a bear to bait."

  "A dwarf? A brown dwarf? That's what I remind you of?" She began to tickle his ribs. "A dwarf, huh? I'll show you dwarf!"

  Pride didn't move. "Demon woman, I'm not ticklish."

  Kate withdrew her hands as though they were stung. "I thought you were just teasing me," she murmured. "If you really want to go to sleep, I'll go to sleep." She turned her back and retreated to the far side of the bed.

  Instantly, Pride's long body pressed against her back. The throbbing tumescence against her buttocks left no doubt that he was fully aroused. He lifted her hair and his lips brushed the back of her neck. A wide hand slipped under her arm and captured a tingling breast. His other arm slid beneath her. With a single motion, he turned her to him and pinned her to the bed with powerful legs. "I'm awake," he murmured, between kisses.

  "Damn you... damn you..."' Her mouth opened to his, lips full and moist. His kisses were sweet and lingering, drawing her down into a whirlpool of delights.

  His hands traced the curves of her breasts, caressing, bringing each nipple to an aching awakening. Kate moaned and pulled him tighter against her. Her fingers moved down to fumble with the rawhide tie that held his loincloth. Pride caught the thong and snapped it, tossing the leather covering aside.

  A hand wandered down Kate's hip and brushed at the soft curls. She gasped with pleasure. Her skin seemed on fire; his hands were everywhere, stroking, tantalizing. Kate could do no less than to serve
her rugged warrior as well.

  They lay, side by side, touching, kissing, drinking in the nearness of each other. "Ki-te-hi," Pride said hoarsely. "I love thee. More than my own soul... I love thee."

  "I love you too," she pledged. "I love every inch of you." Her teeth nipped at his shoulder.

  "Never leave me... never," he entreated. "Promise me."

  "I won't, darling... never again." She pulled his head down and kissed him once more. Her lips were swollen with desire; her inner thighs were moist with the anticipation of love. The tip of her tongue traced the fullness of his lower lip, then explored the honey-sweet riches of his mouth.

  "Love me," Kate begged. "Now!"

  Trembling, he pushed her back against the bearskin robe and filled her with the proof of his passion. She rose to meet his plunging thrusts with equal fervor, crying out as the fiery spasms caught them, transporting them beyond the bounds of earth. Higher and higher they soared, until... together... they rode the rainbow.

  Secure in his loving arms, she looked down at the green world below and let all her fears and doubts fall free. This man was all she desired in life. England, her brother's death, her own vows of independence seemed insignificant. As long as Kate drew breath, she would walk beside him and entrust her heart to him.

  All through the rainy night, they lay close and whispered lovers' secrets. Kate's inner soul sang with indescribable joy. She could not hold back the tears of happiness. Laughing, he held her and kissed away the salty drops.

  "You are Shawnee," he teased. "All squaws weep when they are happy and laugh in anger."

  "Women," she retorted, between sniffs. "Is it any wonder, when we have men to contend with?"

  In the misty hours before dawn, they bathed together in the river, splashing and pushing one another under like mischievous children. Pride showed Kate how to swim with her eyes open, and they explored the river bottom with its sunken logs and moss-backed turtles. Incredibly, in this Eden-like setting, a few hundred yards from a Shawnee Indian village, it seemed completely natural to swim naked as silkies from the watery depths.