The Angel and the Warrior

by Karen Kay

Taking a deep breath and keeping her glance firmly away from him, she began, “Now, about that day…”

  “Yes, my wife.”

  “Please, Swift Hawk, don’t keep saying that. What makes you think we are married?”

  Silently, he observed her. His look, though intense, was becoming as familiar to her as a well-read book. “In my society, when a man and a woman make their commitment to one another, they leave the village and spend many happy hours with one another, alone, except for the eyes of nature. When they do this, they are married. Afterward, they return to the village and have only to announce their union publicly to make it so. But if they do not announce their marriage…”

  “The girl is ruined?”

  He nodded. “Haa’he.”

  “I see.” Understanding began to dawn. “That is why you have been looking at me strangely these past few days. You have been waiting for me to announce our marriage to my people.”

  Again, he nodded.

  “Why didn’t you say something about it before now? If you had, it would have made it easier for me to… I had no idea that this is what you were doing or thinking.”

  He shrugged. “I do not know every rule of the white man’s society. I realized that there is much prejudice from your people toward mine, and ours toward yours. I thought you might only be awaiting the right moment.”

  “But, Swift Hawk, please. You have misunderstood. This is not the way people marry in my society. There needs to be a wedding ceremony, a preacher to marry them, and the witness of others, there within the sight of God.” She glanced at him, finding him frowning back at her. “Don’t you see? In my society, we—you and I—aren’t married. And truth be told, I never intended to marry you because of that morning.”

  There, she’d said it.

  Again, she glanced at him to ascertain his reaction, but because his eyes were cast toward the ground, his features were hidden from her.

  However, it made little difference. Now that she had started, she needed to say it all. “Don’t you understand? What happened between us simply happened. It wasn’t something I intended, and I… Swift Hawk, forgive me, and please try to be tolerant of me. I only did what I did because…because you had saved my life, and I felt that…” She tried to say the rest, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she said, “It’s not that I don’t like you. I do. It’s simply that I…owed…you…” She stopped and held her breath.

  There, it was done.

  At first, he didn’t move. But then, as though it took a moment for the words to have impact, he stiffened, and she thought she witnessed his chin jerk upward. She wondered if this were a sign of his temper.

  She’d known he would be angry. She’d counted on it. But still, it didn’t make it any easier.

  Slowly, with shoulders back, he sat upright, away from her. At once, she felt a distance, perhaps a universe, slip between them. Instinctively, she wanted his arms back around her, but she knew she had no right to ask.

  Though it did occur to her to wonder if this were truly the only solution she had.

  Still, she knew it had to be done. After all, she was protecting him, herself and Julian, wasn’t she?

  Why did it feel so terribly, terribly wrong? She watched as Swift Hawk’s lips thinned, watched as he glanced at her, watched as something unreadable took root there, within his darkened gaze. He looked a long way down his nose at her, as though he now placed her beneath him. To seal the impression, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You meant only to flirt with me, then? You were ‘paying me back’?”

  She swallowed. She opened her mouth to reply, closed it. Darn, she couldn’t think of a thing to say in her own defense. In truth, there was none except, “Well, neither of us has spoken of love. And don’t we need to be in love to marry, anyway?” She knew it was a lie. She loved him, and she was fairly certain he felt the same way about her. But still, they hadn’t really said the words.

  Chin lifted, a frown on his face, he said, “Do I have to remind you that we made love. And do not change the subject. Are you telling me that you were only flirting with me?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Haa’he. Now I understand. I should have known as much, for I have seen how you are with other men. You invite their attention, for you cannot even speak a word without making seductive gestures with your body.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Even as you say this to me now, your shoulders quiver seductively and your breasts rise and fall. You speak, not with your mouth, but with your chest, and a man cannot help but—”

  “How dare you!”

  “A husband would dare much—”

  “You’re not my—”

  “But do not fret that I tell you these things,” he interrupted. “They are not unbecoming. Alas, they are a part of your enchantment. Once a man becomes accustomed to watching you speak, these little gestures are beautiful. But it attracts other men—which would mean nothing to me, if…”

  “Please. Don’t say it again. Don’t go on.”

  He paused.

  She continued, “Swift Hawk, listen to me. I am not married to you. That day was…a mistake. It’s not that I don’t have feelings for you. I do. It’s not that your offer is not gallant. It is. And I am flattered. What you fail to understand is that to me marriage is about love. And I don’t want to marry someone who is not—”

  “A white man?”

  She’d been about to say “madly in love with me.” Indeed, truth be known, it had not escaped her that this man had changed the subject when she had brought it to his attention. He had spoken of making love, yes. But that wasn’t the same thing.

  “I can never be a white man, not in color, not in philosophy. And if this were your true feelings, then you should have told me that you were only paying me back for my help. I would not have…” He didn’t finish the statement, and Angelia watched him carefully to see if she could determine what he’d been about to say.

  It was useless. His features had become too stoic to be read.

  But the fault wasn’t all hers. “You talk about marriage to me. You dare to call me flirtatious, but you have yet to talk about love. How can you speak to me of marriage and not also talk about love?”

  “Love?” Dear Lord, he looked as though the subject had never occurred to him.

  “Well, yes, love,” she repeated. “I thought the reason that two people marry is because they love one another.”

  Her gaze met his, and he stared back at her, but then, as though even a simple glance were painful, they both looked away. Silence stretched between them. At last, with her gaze still centered on the ground, she queried, “Well, do you?”

  “Do I?”

  “Oh, please.” She peeped up at him. “You know what it is that I ask. Do you love me?”

  He drew a deep breath, hesitated for a great deal more time than a man ought, and then finally said, “I desire you, and I believe you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. I would be a good husband, for I take my responsibilities seriously. So long as I live, you would have food for our children and robes for our home. I would be faithful to you, also, for a home is only happy when both people trust each other, and that trust is built by honoring one’s word. To my people, all these things are said to be love.”

  Angelia waited. That was it? This was his declaration of love?

  She cleared her throat, opened her mouth to say something, but words failed her. Problem was, he was speaking all around the subject, yet had not really answered her question.

  Well, as far as she could see, she deserved a forthright answer. With this thought affixed in her mind, she said, “Swift Hawk. I’m afraid I don’t quite understand. You tell me that to your people these things are love. But what about you? Do you love me?”

  She heard him sigh, and her heart fell. She even caught her breath as he hesitated, again much longer than a proper suitor should. At last, as she’d begun to think she could not stand the silence any longer, he
uttered, “Know that I would marry you. But the truth is I cannot love…anybody.”

  Eyes wide, she stared at him. To say she was surprised would have been an understatement. However, all she was able to articulate was, “Cannot?”

  “Cannot,” he stated. “To love implies that one is devoted to a person and only to that person. It is understood that one would put the comfort and wherewithal of the other above all else. This I cannot do. Not for you. Not for anybody.”

  This last was met with more silence. Deadly silence. In truth, Angelia felt suddenly spiny.

  She took a moment to collect herself, before asking, for she would know, “And why can you not love?”

  Again he paused. “I cannot tell you that. Someday, maybe.”

  “I see. Someday,” she repeated, then inhaled deeply. “I have heard you mention before that you follow a purpose—something that fulfills your life. Surely it’s something you could tell me, isn’t it? You know that I would listen.”

  He looked away from her. “If only I were free to do so. But I cannot speak of it to you.”

  “I see,” she said, although she didn’t. Summoning her courage, she forced herself to smile at him lightly, as though they might have been discussing something as trivial as the weather. As lightheartedly as possible, she stated, “Well, Mr. Hawk, on that thought, I think that we both have perhaps astonished each other this day. And I must say that it only serves to strengthen my resolve that it would be best for us both if we simply tried to forget that the entire incident that morning ever happened.”

  Swift Hawk’s look at her was hard and also somewhat hostile, though what he had to be hostile about at this point was not quite clear to her. “And this is what you want? As close as we have become, as much as we have shared, this is what you want?”

  She gulped. “Yes, I think so. This is what I want.”

  His countenance might have been a study in stonework. “You are certain?”

  “I am certain.”

  “Then it is done,” he said quickly, a little too easily for her comfort. “It is forgotten.”

  “Good,” she said. “Good,” she repeated, as though to convince herself. “Thank you.”

  Without another minute passing, Swift Hawk came up onto his feet and looked anywhere but at her. “You must go back. Others will look for you soon.”

  This was it? This was all? Somehow she had expected more of something. More talk perhaps?

  However, without uttering another word, he left her posthaste, keeping a pace that quickly took him away from her.

  Angelia rose more slowly and followed him more leisurely, her attention replaying what she had said, how she had said it and if she might have communicated her doubts a little differently. In turning down his offer, should she have told him how her heart would beat faster whenever he was near? How a mere glimpse of him brought her happiness?

  No, not when she was trying to convince him that their time together meant nothing to her; not when he so clearly didn’t love her.

  It only goes to show how wrong a body can be. Thank goodness she had found out about his true feelings before she had fallen for him even harder.

  Still, despite it all, she couldn’t shake the impression that she had thrown away something of great value. After all, Swift Hawk had been a friend before he had been a lover. He was also her confidante.

  That’s when it occurred to her. Swift Hawk was still her friend, wasn’t he? He would continue to help them, wouldn’t he? Surely, he would not hold this against her to the point where he would refuse to help them?

  Yet, she had been wrong about him loving her. Could she be wrong about his friendship, as well? Darn. She had been so set on protecting them all that she had forgotten about Julian—at least for a moment.

  Well, for Julian’s sake she had best do something about that, and she had better do it fast. Spurring herself into action, she called out, “Oh, Mr. Hawk, please wait up for me.” Lifting her skirts, she began to run, the tall grass and vines hampering her. She tripped, once, twice, and picking herself up, she called again, “Mr. Hawk, please wait up.”

  But if he heard her, he didn’t pause to allow her to catch up to him, nor did he return to her. In truth, he seemed to have disappeared. After a while, she found her own way back to the caravan. After all, it wasn’t that difficult to find. She and Swift Hawk had never been out of sight of it.

  What a dilemma. By solving one problem, had she created another?

  Well, she would solve this one too, if that were the case. Somehow, in some way, she would resolve this mess.

  But how?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Frightening thunderstorms came up suddenly. They would sweep over us, and away they would go as suddenly as they had come… Looking back now it seems to me that we had a thunderstorm almost every day.

  Marian Russell

  Land of Enchantment: Memoirs of Marian Russell Along the Santa Fe Trail

  Swift Hawk summoned Julian to him. “Leave the buffalo to Red Fox and myself. We will finish skinning them and bring them to camp. But you must ride to the wagon train and warn the people there of the unusual storm that is coming.”

  Julian nodded.

  “Be quick and tell them that this is not the same sort of thunderstorm they are accustomed to.”

  Again Julian nodded.

  Swift Hawk stared hard at the young man. “Have you ever experienced the whirling winds? The Wind Spirit of the prairie?”

  “Wind Spirit? No,” said Julian. “Do you mean a twister?”

  “Perhaps. I do not know what the white man calls these things.”

  “If you are talking about what I think you are, they are called twisters. And, yes, I have read of these prairie winds.”

  “Good, then you have knowledge of the damage that they can do?”

  “I do.”

  With his right hand, Swift Hawk made a quick motion outward, saying, “E-peva’e, good. Tell those in the caravan that they are to search quickly for low ground, and they are to go there and stay there until the storm has blown itself out.”

  “Yes.”

  “A coulee or deep valley will do as a shelter. The mules, oxen, the wagons—everyone and everything must go into that shelter. The winds and debris will likely blow over a coulee without causing it damage. Tell them this. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. I will tell them.”

  Again, Swift Hawk made a motion outward. “E-peva’e. Go now.”

  As Julian pulled away, Swift Hawk patted the horse’s rump. For a moment, looking up at the young man, Swift Hawk experienced a sense of loss, but it was not because he feared for Julian. No, if only it were that easy.

  Rather his response was due to her. Julian reminded him too greatly of Angelia, his Little Sunshine.

  Seven suns it had been. For the cycle of seven suns, he had stayed away from her.

  Presently Red Fox joined him, his gaze, too, following Julian. “My friend, you would send the boy on such an errand?”

  “He is a man, let us not forget that.” Swift Hawk spoke without turning around. “And in truth, I think the white men will be more inclined to believe him than either you or me.”

  “Perhaps.” Red Fox chuckled. “But that is not the reason that you have sent him, when you could have gone to the wagon train yourself.”

  Swift Hawk raised an eyebrow.

  “For many days now you have not sought out the fair-haired woman.” Red Fox grinned. “And this from a man who in the past has braved many a dark night in order to return to her side.”

  Though he knew his friend teased, Swift Hawk didn’t reply, and he began to pace toward one of the fallen buffalo.

  With a few long strides, Red Fox caught up with him and kept to a similarly paced gait. “As you might remember, my purpose here is to help you attain what you must, and though I am young, to give you counsel. For many moons we have been friends. So I would ask you, my friend, have you had a change of heart? Or perhaps had another
vision?”

  “Hova’ahane,” Swift Hawk admitted. “I have not.”

  “Saaaa.” Red Fox chuckled once more.

  Swift Hawk blew out his breath, and stopping, he turned to his friend. “You are my friend, in truth, and your counsel is wise. But tell me, why do you tease?”

  Staring off to the side, out toward the prairie, it took Red Fox more than a few moments before he spoke. “Our people have long observed that the wolf takes but one female for his mate. We have seen, also, that if tragedy should befall his mate, he will mourn her loss for the rest of his life.”

  Swift Hawk stared hard at his friend.

  “I think that in regard to this woman, you share many traits with the wolf.”

  “Perhaps,” said Swift Hawk. “But there is a difference. She is not my wife.” Pivoting, Swift Hawk resumed his pace toward the buffalo.

  But Red Fox was there beside him. “Is she not?”

  Swift Hawk didn’t answer.

  “My friend,” offered Red Fox, “I mean no dishonor. But I remember your telling me that she is your wife, that the spirits showed this to you, and that you are only awaiting her announcement to her people.”

  Swift Hawk knelt at the side of the buffalo, and taking his knife in hand, began to skin the beast. Over his shoulder, he responded, “I spoke when I should not have. For I have since learned that the white man has many different views on marriage. In truth, I was wrong to claim her as my own.”

  “Were you?”

  “Haa’he.”

  “And yet, you were following your vision. That is never wrong.”

  Swift Hawk cut away at the hide of the buffalo, and without looking up replied, “Perhaps my vision was given to me by evil spirits.”

  “No. If that were true, there would be other signs.”

  Swift Hawk sat away from the buffalo and put down his knife. Looking up at his friend, he retorted, “Haa’he, you are right, there would be other signs. And yet I know that something is wrong. I feel it. In truth, I am beginning to believe that I may be on the wrong path. Again.”

  “I can understand your frustration,” stated Red Fox. “Many are the times you have tried to end this curse, and still it remains a force that enslaves your people.”