by Karen Kay
She shut her mouth, thinking, summoning her nerve to say what must be said.
Swift Hawk leaned in toward her. “Ah, I can see that you understand. Now you must observe that all of these things, added together, equals a marriage, does it not?”
“No, it—” Angelia shook her head, exhaling sharply. “It does not equal marriage. There was no ceremony.” She said every word distinctively. “But let’s not quibble. Not now. Not here, where we might be overhead. Besides, we forget that Julian might be in trouble. Now, if you would be so kind as to lead me to my brother, I would be much beholden.”
“How beholden?”
Angelia rolled her eyes. “Please, will you take me to him?”
“Yes, my wife,” said Swift Hawk seriously, though she could have sworn that a corner of his mouth lifted upward in a smile. “Truly, my wife, I will do anything you say.”
“Please, if you must say that, say it softly.”
“Very well.” Leaning up onto his elbows, Swift Hawk spoke quietly, for her ears alone, “Yes, my wife. I am yours to command, my wife.”
Angelia raised an eyebrow. “You are mine to command?”
“It is so.”
“Good. Then I command you not to speak to me of this again.”
Smiling, Swift Hawk inclined his head. “Very well. I will show you instead how eager I am to please you.” He held out a hand toward her.
Angelia rolled away. “Swift Hawk!” she uttered sharply, under her breath. “Stop this at once. Just…just take me to my brother.”
“Yes, my wife. Anything you say, my wife.”
Angelia frowned at him, but this time she didn’t say a word. Arising, she found Swift Hawk doing the same, coming easily onto his feet, and with a gesture of his hand, he made her to understand that she was to follow him.
Terrific.
He intended to lead her across a field, one that stretched out in front of the wagons, where every eye within the caravan could see them.
Angelia blew out a breath. This was not good. No, this was not good, at all.
But somehow, in some way, she would think up something to explain away why she was with Swift Hawk.
What that might be she didn’t know, but she would think of something. And Lord knows, it had better be good.
Chapter Sixteen
We believed that two who love should be united in secret, before the public acknowledgment of their union, and should taste their apotheosis (raising a person to a godlike status) alone with nature.
Charles A. Eastman
The Soul of the Indian
He walked her through the tall grasses, not keeping to the easier buffalo paths but rather progressing through and over the pea-vines, buffalo grass and other growth. No trees surrounded them to mark their progress, but looking back, Angelia could discern the white-topped wagons in the distance, which gave her a small sense of direction.
Hopefully the grass would hide her and Swift Hawk from any watchful eyes that might be looking out from the caravan, but she doubted it very much. The growth wasn’t that tall—only a little higher than her waist.
After a mere fifteen-minute walk, Swift Hawk led her to a bluff overlooking a small stream that lay before them, perhaps a quarter of a mile away. Cottonwood and a few willows lined its bed, while its shoreline rose to a steep rise.
On that bluff squatted a man, who, with a field glass in hand, examined the surrounding area, as if scrutinizing it.
Next to him reposed his horse, peacefully grazing on the lush grass as its feet.
It was her brother and his mount.
“Swift Hawk, I hardly think that—”
Putting his finger to his lips, Swift Hawk turned toward her. Watch. He mouthed the words and, pulling on her arm, brought her to the ground, both of them resting on their stomachs.
Parting the grass, she looked outward. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Julian carefully examined the area all around him. Then, as if satisfied, he began his descent. Backward, Julian retraced his path, stepping in his own footprints and wiping them away from the land as he went.
Ingenious. To rub away one’s own prints. No one would be able to follow.
It looked awfully good to her, and turning her face toward Swift Hawk, she gave the man a puzzled glance.
He motioned her to silence, then made a gesture to indicate she should keep watching.
Julian’s horse followed his progress downward, and once at the foot of the bluff, Julian mounted, where he swiftly rode to the next bluff. Here, he repeated the entire process.
Angelia turned once more toward Swift Hawk. “What? It looks to me like he knows what he’s doing. Did you see? It’s brilliant. As he descends, he wipes away his trail, so that whoever is following him can’t locate him.”
Swift Hawk smiled.
“By the way. How does Jules know someone is tailing him?”
As if satisfied that she had observed what he had desired, Swift Hawk gave her a quick incline of his head. “Your brother knows there is someone following him because there are pony tracks there, and your brother sees those tracks in his field glass.” Swift Hawk pointed to the evidence. “Do you see them?”
“Ah…where? Oh yes, there they are. I can make them out faintly. Whose are they?”
Swift Hawk smiled, as though he could barely contain himself.
Seeing it, Angelia turned on him. “How can you do this to Julian? How can you find this very serious situation funny? Aren’t you supposed to be looking after him?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Well, then, do so.” Angelia sat up, getting onto her knees, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe this. What are you finding so funny?”
“This.” Motioning her forward, back onto her stomach, he pointed to the pony tracks.
“Humph!” She pouted. “I don’t see a thing.”
And then, as though Swift Hawk could stand it no longer, he laughed, full and hearty, and sitting up onto his heels, he explained, “Your brother is doing much right—all those feats he reads about in his book. He is doubling back on his own trail and erasing it as he goes, so that whoever is following him cannot see his tracks.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Angelia came up onto her knees as well. “And that seems pretty smart if you ask me.”
It was apparent she had made little impression on Swift Hawk. More laughter was her answer.
Placing her hands on her hips, she frowned at him. “Mr. Hawk, please. Compose yourself.”
Grinning, Swift Hawk rose until he was squatting upright, his thighs taking most of his weight. Pointing to the trail again, he said, “You are right. It seems smart…except your brother forgets one thing.”
“Oh?”
“He does not erase his pony’s trail.”
“Yes?”
“And so he sees a pony trail following him.”
“Yes? And…?” Angelia thought a moment. Then, all at once, she understood. Closing her eyes, she shook her head and sat back, trying her best to keep from smiling. But at poor Julian’s expense. Composing herself, she observed, “I see. He’s spying his own trail.”
With hand motions, Swift Hawk sat back as well, and gave her to understand that she was completely correct. He grinned.
“My brother is following himself, going in circles, trying to find the culprit…who is himself?”
Again Swift Hawk could barely contain his mirth, and he laughed.
“Oh, Swift Hawk, haven’t you better things to do than poke fun at my brother?” she asked, although she, herself, was smiling. Fact was, she couldn’t help it. Hadn’t she told Julian that reading one book on the subject wasn’t enough?
But, no matter. She would defend her brother to the end. “Is this really necessary?”
“Very much so.”
Angelia blew out a short breath and drew her mouth into a frown instead of a smile. “Oh, please. Couldn’t you tell him what he’s doing?”
Swift Hawk merely chuckl
ed. “He must learn this for himself. My friend and I have tried to instruct your brother on the proper way to backtrack and conceal one’s tracks, but your brother does not always believe we know better than his book.”
Angelia shook her head. “And so you’re going to just sit here and let my brother waste his time?”
“It is not time wasted. He will learn from this. There is no other way that will teach him as rapidly as letting him make his own mistakes and discover his own errors.”
“But that could take so much time, and I’m not sure we have that much.”
“Time for what?”
“Swift Hawk, surely you remember from our first conversation that someone is looking for us. There is a bounty posted for our arrest. We have been followed from town to town, to the point that we have been forced to take this drive into Santa Fe. But I fear that we have lost precious time. We had to wait so long at Fort Leavenworth and—”
“There is no one following you or your brother. If there were, I would know it. Do not worry. If someone should come for you, I am here.”
“Yes, but what will I do when you leave?”
Swift Hawk looked over at her and winked. “And now you insult me.”
“Insult you? I am only pointing out that when you leave—”
“Why would I leave?”
“Eventually, our paths will separate.”
“When one of us dies, that will happen, but not until then, my wife.”
Inwardly, she groaned. This was not going to be easy, but now was the time. She had Swift Hawk alone. No one would overhear. She had to tell him. Now.
“There you go again. See here, Mr. Hawk, I realize that we shared a few moments together. But I am not your wife. And I…” Her words trailed away.
He looked at her. That’s all he did. There they were, sitting face-to-face, grass all around them, and he stared at her, his gaze softening as he admired her. It was as if he could see through her defenses, through her layers to the very depth of her soul. Angelia sucked in her breath, the words, the things she knew she must say, leaving her mind as though these symbols, like water, would evaporate in the dry prairie air.
But she had to tell him.
She opened her mouth, glanced over at him, and that’s when she realized, really realized how very intimately they were seated. Without warning, her stomach twisted, while a fire ignited within her. Her pulse, which was already beating double time, accelerated more. Her breasts strained against her chemise, and the good Lord be praised, she swayed her hips in closer to him.
She could barely think.
He grinned down at her. “Do you see how it is with us?” he whispered, as he reached out to her and brought her head in toward him. “If I were to touch you like this…” he trailed his fingers to the pulse at her neck, “…I would be able to make love to you here and now.” He slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her hips in toward him.
Angelia opened her lips to say no, but alas, the imprint of his arousal against her stomach made her feel as though she might crumple, and instead of uttering a thing, she let him kiss her.
It was a sweet kiss, for all that they strained against one another. His lips were moist against her own, his touch gentle yet invigorating, and she was swept up in the wonder of him. When she breathed, she breathed in his musky scent, and when she opened her eyes, his handsome face swam before her. She thought her heart might surely exhaust itself before they were finally finished.
Her mind cleared of everything, and she forgot to think. At this moment, there was no trouble with the caravan, no Vigilance Committee, no bounty, nothing but him and his kiss. Despite herself, she surrendered.
His tongue delved into her mouth over and over, and his arms held her tightly, but at last, they both came up for air.
“I fear that we have little time,” he whispered, his lips moving against hers. “Soon your people will awaken from their nap, and you will be missed. We should stop this now, for we have not yet made our announcement to them.”
“Yes,” she agreed, though she did not pull away from him, and his arms remained tightly wrapped around her. But then, she frowned. “What announcement?”
He grinned at her. “The announcement that tells your people that we are married. When this is done, then and only then may I openly show your people that you are mine.”
Angelia gulped. Meanwhile all the reasons she was not supposed to be doing this flooded back to her. Had she delayed too long?
Well, there was no time like the present, and inhaling deeply, she pulled back from him, though his arms were still wrapped around her. Her glance was not on him, either, but rather was centered on the dirt at her knees, when she said, “Swift Hawk, there will be no announcement, I’m afraid. If I were to say what you suggest, there will be much trouble.”
“So you have told me before. Why is this? Because I am not white?”
“Partly.”
“And what is the other part?”
She drew in her breath. “The other part? It is this. The situation I face won’t allow it. Both my brother and I are being hunted by the law. If I do something that brings undue notice to me, questions will be asked, questions that could eventually lead bounty hunters to me and to Julian.”
Swift Hawk nodded. Then, with a light shrug, he said, “Then we will live elsewhere. There is much room here in my country, and there are many places to live.”
“No. You don’t understand.” Her words were firm. “They will look for me, and they will find me.”
“No. It is you who does not understand. If I do not wish to be found, there is no one who would be able to find me.”
She bit her lip. “Perhaps you’re right. But there is another problem.”
“Haa’he.” He glanced at her askance. “So many problems we have. What is this next one?”
“Simply this. If you marry me, you will probably be hanged.”
“Hanged?” He sat back, away from her. Glancing up at him, she could see he was confused. “What is this hanged?”
“Oh, surely you know.”
He shook his head. “I do not.”
“But how can that be? You seem to grasp so much about the white man—even little things.”
Swift Hawk lifted his shoulders. “William Bent taught me much, but even he could not show me all there is to know of your culture.”
“But I would have thought… I mean, you speak English so well, much better than your friend, Red Fox, and…?”
“I have learned this language since I was small and took many trips to my cousin’s fort. Red Fox did not accompany me on those trips.”
“Still,” she persisted, “I would have thought that you would have heard about hanging, if not from Mr. Bent, then perhaps from the white men at Fort Leavenworth, particularly so, since it is our means of punishing a criminal. As I said, in most other things, you have come to know a great deal about the white man…and I think you have done this in a very short time.”
Swift Hawk tossed his head to the side. “I am a scout. I learned early to memorize tiny details about the earth, her trails and her signs, since I would be required to recite these things back flawlessly months or even years later. When a man can do this, he will find many other things come easily to him. Besides, if your need was as great as mine, so too would you learn quickly.”
Angelia frowned. This was the second time he had mentioned his requirement to learn about the white man. Why was that need so great?
But it wasn’t in her mind to address that subject with him, not now. Not when the matter at hand needed discussion.
“Very well. If you don’t truly know what hanging is, then I will tell you of it. But it is not a pleasant thing to discuss, though it is the fate that awaits both Julian and myself, if ever we are caught by these bounty hunters. And it awaits you too, if I were to do as you say and announce our marriage.”
Swift Hawk raised an eyebrow. “Then you agree we are married?”
“No, no. I d
idn’t mean it that way.”
Swift Hawk narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing.
“Truly, I didn’t mean we are married,” she went on to say, “but let me continue, for you should know what hanging is. It happens this way: When a man has committed an ill against society, like murder, for instance, sometimes other men decide that this person should not live. If that be the case, then the murderer is put to death, and the way that is done is to tie a rope around the man’s neck, string the rope to a high tree limb, and… Well, the rest is easy enough to envision.”
Swift Hawk sat silently for a moment. “He is left to hang to his death?”
“Yes.”
“And this would happen to me if we were to announce our marriage?”
“Yes, very likely.”
“Why?” he asked. “Is it not better to sanction a marriage between two people who desire one another? What if we were to make a child? Is it not better to bring a child into a marriage than to have that child born without knowing his father?”
Angelia let out her breath. “Yes, you are right. But there are other problems besides that, and I—”
“I do not understand. What does a culture have to do with it? Would your society rather that a woman be ruined than exalted?”
Angelia had no ready response to offer, and except for a slight hesitation, she continued, “It would seem so. But, Mr. Hawk, I have something else I must confess to you.”
Swift Hawk was barely listening to her—if at all—and he went on to say, “I understand that to some there will always be prejudice. There are men and women who cannot, who will not see. But even amongst the most crude peoples I have known, a woman is thought to be better off married than left to scorn.”
Angelia shrugged and repeated, “I can only tell you the way it is. It may not be right. I certainly don’t condone it, but the truth is that if we are caught as we are now, I will be ostracized and you will be hanged.”
He remained silent, and she glanced away from him, off to the side, studying the tall blades of grass. She and Swift Hawk were talking all around it, and still, she hadn’t said what she must. Where was her nerve?