The Angel and the Warrior

by Karen Kay

  Each soul must meet the morning sun, the new, sweet earth, and the Great Silence alone!

  Charles A. Eastman

  The Soul of the Indian

  Swift Hawk sang an honoring song to the Creator, thanking Him for giving life to all things, for making the earth beautiful and, having made the proper sacrifices, Swift Hawk felt secure in asking for help in attaining the freedom of his people. As he sang, he smudged himself with the smoldering embers of sweet grass, asking that his thoughts be pure, and that he walk the good road, the one most advantageous to his people.

  There was much that he still did not understand, and in his daily prayers, he asked again for help in learning what he must, that he might fulfill his purpose. In many ways, Swift Hawk acknowledged that he had arrived at a forked road, for he had come to a place where there were many paths to choose.

  Had he chosen correctly? Wisely?

  It had been his decision to help the woman and her brother, but despite his growing warmth for the woman, Swift Hawk’s doubts were still many. If she were truly the one who was meant to help him, would he continue to yearn for her in a purely physical way? Didn’t his sense of honor and common sense negate this?

  Yet, he could not deny his desire. As it was, each night when he at last lay down to sleep, his thoughts were flooded by images of taking her to his bed, almost to the exclusion of all else. He knew he should consider more seriously the marriage bed. It was the only honorable way.

  Yet he, more than anyone else, realized this path was blocked to him. For one, she was white, he was Indian; for another, she was from a dream, he was on a quest.

  But most important, the biggest objection he might raise would be his vow to the Creator. A vow to remain celibate and unattached to the female of the species.

  Saaaa, it had to be a weakness within him—a weakness that was a danger signal, and a danger he would do best to heed. For he had realized long ago that, for whatever reason, his life could not admit a great love and the accomplishing of a great deed—not at the same time. If ever a time did come that he would have to choose between the two, the fulfillment of his purpose would have to take precedence over all else.

  Yet, in some way, somehow, she was part of this.

  But could he be certain of what part she was to play? What if she were to be no more than a hindrance, a distraction meant to lure him away from the good road? For he surely felt lured.

  Enough, he told himself. He resolved nothing with his thoughts.

  He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs, and clearing his mind, he continued to sing. As he sang, he smudged himself with the sacred grass, that the smoke might purify his thoughts, and he opened his heart to the allness of nature, fusing his mind to the rhythm and the life of the environment around him. He sensed her presence, for her thoughts were a stranger here amongst the pulse of nature.

  She was here? Now? Where?

  He hadn’t heard her approach, he hadn’t seen her. Nevertheless he knew she was here—he could perceive her. With his mind, he sought her out.

  Ah. There she was, there in the river. For a moment, if a moment only, he joined his mind with hers and knew at once that she had been bathing… What? Here, right under his nose? Strange that he hadn’t noticed her at once.

  Or had she sought him out?

  Haa’he. She had done exactly this, he realized. Immediately his body responded to that thought. It was as if she had offered herself to him, heart, body and soul. He swallowed hard, knowing well that just because she was here, it did not mean she was his to court.

  His body refused to listen to reason, and of its own, it impressed its needs upon him. Physically he ached to see her. Morally, he knew he must not, for if he were a wise man, he would resist the temptation that she presented.

  Perhaps he was not so wise as his conscience dictated. Indeed, he did not leave as he knew he should, but rather stayed where he was, waiting, knowing that eventually Mother Earth would aid him.

  He was right. Soon the forces of Nature did, indeed, conspire with him against her, for a single ray of morning light alit upon her, there where she hid in the water.

  Go! Leave here while you can, a rational part of him urged. If she had been bathing, she would be naked.

  Stay, beseeched his heart.

  He grimaced. What was his path to be?

  He had little way of knowing. The only certainty he grasped at the moment was that he needed to cleanse himself, and to that end, he began to sing again. The melody was a healing song, and yet he changed the words slightly, instinctively knowing it was the right thing to do. He sang, in English:

  “Come out, come out, my angel

  Come out and sing with me.

  Show yourself, my angel

  Come forth, that I may see,

  The angel that I dream of,

  The one who spies on me.”

  He watched as she glanced around her, as though looking for some other being. He shook his head. Did she honestly think he would serenade another? Nevertheless, he continued to sing, saying directly to her…

  “Come out, come out, Angelia,

  Come out and sing with me.

  Together we may be stronger,

  Than I alone could be.

  Come out, come out, Angelia,

  Come forth and sing with me.”

  At last she stood up. She was not naked, as he had supposed. He did wonder if she knew that the simple shift she wore hid nothing from his view, not her breasts, not her hips, not the wisp of matted hair, there at the junction of her legs. Nothing…

  At the sight, Swift Hawk drew in his breath, and that portion of his body most masculine twitched in a way he understood all too well.

  This was not helping. This was not helping at all.

  Even as he watched her, her image began to change. Golden light encircled her, and she was no longer standing before him practically naked, but rather she was adorned in Indian garb. Nor was she alone. In her arms was a babe, by her side a youngster of perhaps two winters in age, the child looking much like Swift Hawk’s own father.

  Swift Hawk didn’t rub his eyes to be certain of what he saw, for with the wisdom passed down from beings wiser than he, Swift Hawk knew this image was a gift from the Creator. It was His way of showing Swift Hawk the future—and she was part of it.

  Swift Hawk’s throat constricted, and closing his eyes, he tried to gather his thoughts. But it was impossible, and when he opened his eyes again, the image was gone.

  There she was, beautiful Angelia, standing before him, down by the water, looking practically naked and lovelier than he had ever seen her. He knew what he would do, what he had to do.

  Grabbing hold of his weapons and crouching to his knees, Swift Hawk climbed down from the bluff, and pulling on his quiver and bow quickly, he stepped toward her. She was his. Maybe not in body, not yet…for he would be a fool to take her as a wife here, beneath the prejudiced eye of the white man; a fool, as well, to betray his own vow.

  That last idea stopped him. But would he betray it? Was this not the Creator’s way of releasing him from a promise made so long ago?

  Realization dawned, and as it did, a sense of freedom enveloped him, a kind of ease he hadn’t felt in many a year. She was his. He didn’t know how this could be; he didn’t even know why. But in some inexplicable way, she belonged to him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Women and children were the objects of care among the [people] and as far as their environment permitted they lived sheltered lives.

  Luther Standing Bear

  Land of the Spotted Eagle

  He rushed toward her, at least as quickly as his pace would allow. Reaching the water, he slowly waded toward her, his gaze on her, hers on him. Then he was there before her.

  They stared at one another for several minutes.

  “You should not be here,” he said at last, even while he reached up to smooth back a wayward lock of her soft, pale hair.

  “I know. I’m sorry if
I disturbed you.”

  “You did not disturb me. Though there be danger in your being here, I think it was meant to be.”

  “Meant to be…here?”

  “I cannot explain.”

  She nodded, as though she understood perfectly. She glanced down, only to gasp. Her gaze flew to his, and he saw surprise as well as embarrassment there. At last, she understood that her gown hid none of her womanly secrets from him. Suddenly timid, she crossed her arms in front of her.

  It made him grin. “It is too late for that, I fear.”

  Color filled her cheeks, and he marveled again at the comeliness of her. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I have thought so from the first moment you came to me, though it seems long ago.”

  “Long ago?” Her glance danced off his. “I have come to you before?”

  “Aa, it is true. But again, I cannot explain.”

  She turned away then, and crouching, slid down into the water until it hid her body from his gaze. “I must return to my bath—to where I left my clothes…and I must dress at once. I’m sorry if I interrupted you.”

  He nodded. “You did not interrupt me. As I said, you are a part of this. But come, you are right. I will accompany you.”

  “No.” She spun around in the water, toward him. “No, I…I know my way, and it isn’t far. You see, I heard you singing, and I was…drawn to it.” She frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t know why. But…here I am.”

  “Haa’he. Here you are.” He reached out again to touch a lock of her hair, the feel of those silky tresses erotic against his fingertips. “Morning sunshine,” he said after a time. “You are like a ray of morning sunshine. Pale and golden, and shimmering with life.”

  “Really?” She gave him a shaky smile. “I… Thank you, but I really mustn’t be here with you, not like this. It is unbefitting a lady.”

  “Haa’he, that it is. Go.” He raised his chin, nodding her on in the direction of her private pool. “But you should know, I think, that your state of dress is only ‘unbefitting’ if the lady be unmarried.”

  “Unmarried?” She frowned. “But we are not married.”

  “Yet.” He smiled. “You should add the word ‘yet’ when you say that.”

  She exhaled loudly, narrowing her brows. “Why do you say this?”

  “Because it is true. We are not married yet.”

  “And we will probably never be.” Her frown deepened, and she turned away from him without another word.

  He smiled as he watched her float away.

  Just as she was putting distance between them, she stopped suddenly, turned around, and said, “Are you, by chance, asking me to marry you?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he followed her into the water and grabbed one of her hands, where he outstretched it and placed it against his own, palm to palm, fingers entwined. “Do you see how your hand fits closely to mine?”

  Eyes wide, she nodded.

  “So it could be with us. Just as our fingers match perfectly, one to the other, there is a part of you that is a part of me. Maybe that is why you were drawn here.” He glanced down at her.

  “I…I…don’t understand. I thought that you didn’t like me very much. I mean, I know I can be bossy, and I understand that this annoys you. Besides, it has not escaped my notice that you avoid my touch, and that each time I am close to you, you back away from me. Tell me, if not for the lessons, you would avoid me completely, would you not?”

  “Avoid you? Not like you?” He paused, then shook his head. “I have been attracted to you from the moment I first saw you. In truth, that has presented me with a problem.”

  “You…are attracted to me?”

  He nodded.

  “Even from the beginning?”

  Another incline of his head was his answer.

  Her lips quivered, and he could see that she tried to speak. All she managed, however, was to bite down on her bottom lip. A few moments later, she said, “I thought that you…that I… I mean, you tease me horribly and…”

  He lowered his face toward her, his lips mere inches away from her own. “I tease you because I like you.”

  She opened her mouth, but whatever else she might have said was lost to his mastery.

  The mere touch of his lips against hers sent waves of pleasure over him, and when he met with no resistance from her, Swift Hawk deepened the kiss. One arm came around her waist, one hand caressed her cheek. She moaned, or was that him?

  As though he had asked for too much from her, too soon, she stepped back, out of his embrace.

  “I must go.” She took another step back, away from him. “Truly, I must go.”

  He bobbed his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, that is best. Go. Now, while I can still let you.”

  She didn’t leave right away. Instead, she turned those pale blue eyes on him, and for a moment, the passion he witnessed there tore at his control. But as quickly as he glimpsed that passion, it was gone. Alas, when he glanced at her again, her eyes held only an apology.

  “I am truly sorry I disturbed you. I… You… I…” She seemed unable to finish the sentence, and without another word, she spun away from him. Spreading out her hands in front of her, she swam away.

  Swift Hawk breathed out deeply, observing her until she rounded a corner and was out of sight.

  This meeting between them had been a good thing, he decided, a very good thing, indeed. At least now she knew his intentions toward her, as did he.

  Erratic waves darting toward him were the first indication of trouble, for there was no sound of struggle. What was wrong? Had she met someone on her return? Was she unable to yell for help?

  Fearing the worst, Swift Hawk rounded the corner where she had disappeared. There was his angel, struggling.

  Frantically, she tore at her clothes, until she caught sight of him. She gasped, “There is something beneath my chemise. It swam up to my chest, and whatever it is, it is wrapped around me. I am afraid to scream, for I do not want to draw attention. But I cannot get whatever it is off.”

  Swift Hawk nodded, even as he cautioned himself to remain as calm as possible. “Do not move. If it is a snake, you will fare better if you remain still.”

  “A snake!” she whispered, her words barely audible. “I can hardly breathe.”

  “If you are talking, you are fine. But remain as still as you can. I will help you, but you must promise me that you will not move, no matter what I do.” Even as he said it, he was unsheathing his knife and placing it in his mouth. “Promise me.”

  She did.

  Having come in as close to her as he dared, he sprang at her all at once. Taking hold of her dress, he pulled it up over her head in a quick motion, raising her arms at the same time.

  And there it was, a snake, coiled around her waist, its head hidden amongst its own body.

  Seeing it, Angelia moaned, making tiny high-pitched sounds that Swift Hawk knew bordered on a scream, though she had the presence of mind to keep silent. She did, however, gasp out, “Kill it. Now. Please.”

  What Swift Hawk did was far from an act of violence. Grabbing the snake by its head, he pulled it away from her body in a fast, jerky motion, and flung the beast out into the swirling mass of the river. Watching it as it swam away from them, he took the knife from his mouth and replaced it in his sheath. At last, he turned his attention to her.

  Clearly stunned, yet on her feet and still alive, Angelia remained in one place, panting. That she was naked, and that he could see her form entirely from the waist up seemed to escape her notice, allowing him to gape at her.

  Her beauty took his breath, and he felt like a man starved, for his mind cleared of all else but thoughts of her, of what he could do with her, of all they could be to one another. His gaze centered on her breasts, their perfect roundness heaving at him with her every heartbeat.

  In due time she appeared to catch her breath. “Why didn’t you kill it?”

  He paused, collecting his th
oughts, for he realized he needed to answer her intelligently, a task that might take more strength than he cared to admit.

  He looked into her eyes. “The snake was not poisonous, and though it frightened you, you also frightened it. Did you see how it hid its head? It was afraid.”

  “I don’t care if it was afraid. It startled me. I was afraid.”

  “Yes. I know.” He did what he’d been wanting to do since he’d spotted her in the water. He took her in his arms.

  It was a sweet torture. Skin to skin, breast to breast, the feel of her ripe body next to his was almost more than he could bear. Her scent, mixed with river water, seemed a gift from the gods, and whether he wished it or not, his body stood ready.

  He should stop this. He knew he should. He should let her go.

  And yet to release her was unthinkable. Bending toward her ear, he kissed it, then said, “Come, we must leave here. The day is awakening. Your people and mine will soon be attentive. Even now, as we stand here, we could be seen. And if we are seen… Besides, where there is one snake, there may be many.”

  She shuddered.

  “Tell me, where are your clothes? I will take you there.”

  She pointed, but she made no move to leave his arms. She sniffled instead, saying, “There, around the bend—it’s a quiet spot, by an old cottonwood tree.”

  “Saaaa, I know the place. Come.”

  “No, don’t leave me.”

  “I am not.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I am naked. I should not be seen like this. Not by you, not by anybody.”

  He stiffened. “Better it is that I see you like this than to feel your body next to mine. When we hold each other like this, I think of things I shouldn’t.”

  “Things?”

  He groaned. “Things like this.” He leaned down to place his lips against hers. It was sweet torture, that kiss. He wanted more, so much more, but now was not the right time or the right place.

  “Come.” Bending, he picked her up into his arms, holding her naked body against his chest. Without further argument, he moved as gently yet as swiftly as he could—through the water, onward toward Angelia’s own private nook.