Red Hawk's Woman

by Karen Kay

He had expected nothing less. Still he was disappointed, and he nodded. “I can only tell you this: Sometimes it is wise to go elsewhere if one’s life is in danger. But this is not always advisable. There are times when it is better to hold to one’s position and confront what danger exists—especially if the trouble might follow a person wherever she may go. Tell me, would you be as vulnerable on your trip back East, as you are here? Before you reach the safety of your father’s lodge?”

  “I could be, but I could also travel alone, away from my colleagues, since I am beginning to distrust them.”

  “Do you think traveling by yourself would help you?” he asked, startled at the idea that she might think this would be secure. “Is not one alone easier for an enemy to conquer than one of many?”

  She drew her brows together. “Of course you are right. But I don’t think I could stay here in this town until the culprit is caught. Why this hotel, as dull and dirty as it is, is costing me a fortune. I’m afraid my finances will not permit a long stay. Besides, now that I have a guide, I only have need to stay here until the rest of our party joins us. Yet if I continue on with this journey, don’t I risk putting the entire project in danger?”

  “Is it not already in danger?”

  Her eyes met his, and there, within her glance, he could see clearly that she at last understood her situation.

  He pressed onward. “Why not continue your trek to where you originally intended going? Haiya, it is the best way, for you are right. You cannot stay here. There is trouble here for you. If you leave immediately, it is true you might bring the danger with you. But it is also true that if this person means to take something from you, no matter where you go, the threat will go with you. At least here you have several people to defend you. Annisa, I am afraid that until you complete the task set before you, there will be much difficulty for you.”

  “You may be right.”

  “Aa, I believe I am. I think your best course is to go onward, as you have already planned. At least once you have finished the task set before you, everything will be out, for it is my belief your attacker will have no choice but to present himself. Then, and only then, can you once more live your life without fear of assault.”

  She stared at him as though she could see him clearly for the first time. “You present quite a persuasive argument, Mr. Hawk. But at the same time, I wonder why you champion so greatly going forward.” She hesitated. “Tell me, I know why I am here—and at this moment, so do you. I have told you this plainly. It is your turn to share now. Tell me, what draws you here?”

  Truth be told, Red Hawk had prepared for their meeting tonight and had braced himself for this very question, deciding his best defense was to impart at least a portion of the facts. However, he quickly revised his plan.

  Genuinely, he might be tempted to tell her the details of his plight, for he had discovered he had feelings for her. This alone carried with it a tendency to trust her.

  But he hesitated. Too much depended on his ability to discover what she sought, why she sought it and what she stood to gain from it. Besides, if he were completely honest, it was doubtful she would believe him.

  So he evaded her question. Hoping to draw her attention onto something else besides him, he said, “It is true I desire you to continue to the Gates of the Rocky Mountains and that I wish you to succeed in your quest. ’Tis also true there are reasons why I am here and why I am giving you aid. But I do not think you have been open with me with the facts as I see them. Let me retell a few of the facts as I understand them. Aa, you seek something, but your very profession proclaims this. This thing which you desire to find is valuable. But the fact someone else is attempting to steal it from you would show me that what you seek, and what you have, is valuable. So do not think you have deceived me.”

  “I am not trying to deceive you.”

  “Are you not? And yet you have not told me what this thing is.”

  “Yes, but we made a pact, and I still know nothing about why you are here and are so interested in this thing I carry. Is it not unusual for an Indian to have concern for such things?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She paused. “Check. Once again we are at an impasse.”

  He nodded.

  “Mr. Hawk,” she began after a short while, “I…actually… Well, if you must know, I am caught. I am afraid to go onward. I’m also afraid to go back. And I cannot, nor do I want to stay here. What am I to do?”

  He reached out to touch her, his fingers clasping hers. “I am here, and I will remain with you, no matter your decision. And though I think it wise to continue onward, I cannot tell you what to do—you must make that choice yourself. Know that whatever you decide, I will lend you assistance.”

  “I… Thank you.”

  Again, he nodded. “Perhaps, once on the road, others will come to your defense as well.”

  “Others?”

  “Aa. Besides myself, our Mother, the Earth, will protect you.”

  “Mother Earth?” She stared at him. “We’re not talking about a live being, are we?”

  “All things are alive, even the air we breathe.”

  Effie gave him a wide-eyed gawk. He ignored the look and went on to explain, “Does the air not nourish us? Can we live without it? Does it not impart life to us?”

  “But it’s not…really…alive. I can’t talk to it, and it certainly can’t speak back—”

  “Because you do not know how to listen. It is in contact with you every day. ’Tis all a matter of perception. Haiya, all things are alive, or were once alive, and all living creatures are a part of life’s circle and are able to receive and give communication.”

  She frowned at him. “You are speaking of things which I do not believe, and I—”

  “Just as you have intuition, so, too, can every living creature sense whether or not another intends harm or good.”

  “Maybe, but—”

  “As an example, it has been told to me by my elders that there was once a tree that saved the lives of seven helpless people.”

  “But could that not be a myth? We have many such tales in my culture as well, but they are stories we relate to the very young in order to entertain them.”

  “Are you certain that this is all?” he countered. “Do not discount those things you have not seen merely because you have not yet experienced them. Many myths are based on fact.”

  “That’s probably true,” she conceded.

  “Aa, I do think that our Mother, the Earth, is your best protection. In the open spaces, whoever this is will have to show himself or herself.”

  “Herself?” Effie became immediately distracted, and said further, “Do you think the guilty party might be one of the women…perhaps Lesley?”

  Red Hawk shrugged. “I do not know. The important thing to remember is that no matter where you go, I fear your attacker will follow you.”

  Effie nodded. After a few minutes, she said, “I will consider all you have said, and I thank you for your advice. But now, since it is late, and before it gets any later, perhaps we should discuss the sheriff and what you discovered today. Why would he break into my room? And why would he rummage through my things?”

  Red Hawk breathed out deeply. “All of the men in this town are loco, I believe. These men talk of nothing but gold and silver. They argue amongst themselves over who owns what piece of ground, and they work endlessly, digging into our Mother, the Earth, scarring her. They ignore her cries, because they have no ears with which to hear and because their machines drown out her voice.”

  “But they are miners and seek their fortune. That is what miners do.”

  “So I have been told. But there is more. Have you observed that there are few women here?”

  “There are some.”

  “But they are not the kind of women a man will most often marry.”

  E
ffie lifted her brow.

  “Therefore,” he said, “one can only wonder what purpose these men serve. How can a man build a town without women? Do they forget that without a woman, there is little happiness?”

  “An excellent point, but what does this have to do with the sheriff?”

  “’Tis simple, I think. The only conclusion I can draw from the manner of madness I see all around me is that these men hope to easily obtain something that does not belong to them, but rather belongs to our Mother, the Earth. Gold and silver hold these men’s hearts for ransom, and perhaps the sheriff suffers the same ailment as the rest and hopes to attain something easily, even though it does not belong to him. Perhaps that is all. I do not know. All I can tell you is that the man came to your room, he searched it and left. He did not return here, but spent the remainder of the day over the hills where the young men are digging.”

  Effie nodded. “It is curious, Mr. Hawk. Very curious. But maybe you are right and he was hoping to obtain something more easily than the rest.” She yawned.

  Red Hawk watched her for the space of a moment. “Are you going to tell me or show me what this thing is? So many people are searching for it…your life is in danger because of it. Do you not think I should see it?”

  “No,” she said flatly, no explanation given. “Now if you will excuse me, I believe it is time that I get some sleep.”

  He ignored her words. “I could readily find out what this thing is from the others. You realize this, don’t you?”

  She didn’t utter a word. Instead, she gazed away from him.

  Without taking his gaze from her, he said, “I would rather you show it to me.”

  “They won’t tell you.”

  “Your friends won’t have to tell me. I know how to listen.”

  Effie gave a deep sigh and, resigned, said, “Oh, very well. If you turn your back and blow out the candle, I will show it to you.”

  He nodded and did as she directed, listening. She must have adjusted her clothing once again, for he could hear the rustling of her garments.

  She commanded him to turn around, and when he did so, he saw it.

  She held out both hands to him. In the center of her palms were two pieces of white, glittering rock, beautiful even in this lighting, which was only a mere streak of moonlight. But it wasn’t only the rock that caught and held his attention. Imbued into the niche of each piece of quartz was the golden image of…

  She said, “I don’t know if you can see the engravings well, for we have little light by which to view them. But they are figures, half bird, half human. They are supposed to represent the—”

  “Children of the Thunderer,” he finished for her.

  Her curious eyes caught his. “You must have heard about that part of the legend, then?”

  He didn’t answer her right away. He couldn’t, for without warning, a memory had pressed itself into his consciousness:

  “Four golden images,

  When all in a row,

  Slaves, your people will be,

  No more.”

  It was the song, the poem of his protector, the sea dog. He hadn’t understood it then. He did so now.

  “Mr. Hawk,” she was saying. “Is something wrong?”

  “Saa,” he replied after a long hesitation, “nothing is wrong. In truth, something is very right. And now it is time I tell you the truth about me, because we are united in cause.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “’Tis simple. I am of the Lost Clan.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Did you find them?” The voice was deep, baritone and masculine.

  “No, I didn’t,” the second person, in a tone that was higher-pitched, as well as sweet and feminine, said. “And I almost got caught. She screamed so much, even I became scared.”

  A masculine finger reached out to lift the woman’s dainty chin. He smiled. “You have no reason to ever be scared. I am here for you. I will always be here for you, as you are for me.” He kissed her.

  “Oh, hold me, darling, just hold me. It was awful, just awful.”

  The man took the woman in his arms and pressed her lithe form against the hard contours of his. “I picked up something for you today.” After reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a pair of golden earrings.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “They’re beautiful.”

  “But you can’t wear them…not yet. When our job here is finished, there will be more where these came from.”

  “Really?” She giggled.

  “Yes,” said the man, his voice low and resonant. “Really. And now to the more pleasant aspects of life. My darling, come lie down with me. I must admit I am weary.”

  “As I am too,” she said. “How I would like to sleep away these next few days instead of… Oh, well. There is work to be done, I suppose.”

  “It’s one of the aspects of your personality I have always loved about you.”

  “What?”

  “Your dedication. All this would be for nothing, if not for you.”

  The woman smiled widely. “Hmmm, I like the sound of that.”

  “Yes? What is it?”

  She grinned. “Help me out of my things.”

  “Ah…with great pleasure, my dear. By the by, where did you find the charming black outfit you were wearing earlier?”

  “I have my means,” she replied with a slight titter. “I have my means.”

  “You’re a minx. Come here,” he coaxed, and very soon, the woman’s silken skirt hit the floor, followed by a pair of soft pantalettes and linen shirt.

  “Ah,” said the man. “You are beautiful.”

  She collapsed into a burst of chortles.

  Given a choice, this was not the manner in which Red Hawk would have chosen to travel. He was a scout, and scouts commonly traversed enemy territory at night. They also used various means to blend into their environment. So much was this the case that only the well-trained eye could detect the presence of a scout, if at all.

  Unfortunately, there was no plan Red Hawk could employ to hide the horses and wagons of Effie’s group, no manner by which to disguise the noise of the wagons, the neighing of the animals nor the dust kicked up by their procession. Moreover because of these wagons—and there were two of them—their party was restricted to using the sunlight hours in which to travel. Thus, the chance of meeting a war party was great.

  Luckily for them, because the Crow Indians were friendly toward the whites, Effie’s company would not likely encounter hostilities on this leg of their journey, even though he—a traditional enemy of the Crow—traveled with them. He only hoped the same would hold true once they reached Blackfeet country.

  However, scouting was the least of his duties. In addition, there was the trail to blaze, meat to procure, protection and lookouts to be kept. An additional experienced man would have been preferable.

  Red Hawk had tried to find such a person. In the few days before setting out on the trail, he had considered seeking out the Crow to determine if there might be a few warriors among them who would be willing to aid the whites.

  But he had rejected the idea almost immediately. Since the Blackfeet and the Crow were enemies, he figured he would never be able to trust a Crow warrior with his scalp.

  In addition, he had also sought out several of the young men who had flocked to Virginia City. But that, too, had been to no avail.

  Unfortunately, there was no one else. This had left him with many tasks to perform, and required a rigorous schedule—to bed early, after posting one of the white men to stand watch. Arising in the middle of the night and setting out on the trail to explore the territory ahead, he watched for signs of enemies—in this way Red Hawk secured safe passage for the next day’s journey.

  Then in the very early morning, Red Hawk would return to camp, there to awaken the o
thers, and set them into preparation for their continued trip. Add to this that Red Hawk’s main duty was to provide fresh meat, as well as to lead Effie’s group on the shortest and safest path through Crow country, and one might realize the extent of his responsibilities.

  That this cut his hours of sleep to less than a few a night was something he did without thought or complaint. Perhaps when they attained his own country he could let down his guard.

  There had been one change, however. While still in Virginia City, two more people had joined their party—a man by the name of John Owens, and his butler, Fieldman. Owens’s wife was to have accompanied him originally but had not felt up to the challenge of travel.

  Owens was an elder to the rest of the group, by perhaps twenty-five years. He was also the father of one of the women in the group, the one known as Lesley.

  John Owens was also Effie’s father’s best friend, her father’s naapi, as the men of the Blackfeet would say. A middle-aged man, with short, graying, dark hair—at least what was left of it—he sported a predominately gray mustache. In height, he stood a little shorter than Red Hawk, and he carried a great deal of fat around the middle of his belly.

  At first Red Hawk hadn’t known what to think of the elder man, for Red Hawk had sensed an air of antagonism about him. Upon further acquaintance, however, Owens had seemed amicable enough, and any doubts Red Hawk had harbored at first seemed to be unwarranted.

  Still Red Hawk frowned. It was puzzling, for he tended to trust his instincts, as well as first impressions.

  Then there was Owens’s butler, Fieldman. Although Fieldman seemed devoted to Owens, Red Hawk little trusted a man whose living depended on the leave and goodwill of another.

  But enough.

  The weather on this fine day in Niipiaato’s, or June, the summer month, was pleasant, warm and sunny. It was a condition he had expected, since it had been foretold by the red sun at sunset on the previous day.

  “The sun will not lie to you,” he could almost hear his grandfather say, “and if it is red at sunset, the next day will be fair.”

  At present, Red Hawk was riding his mustang, a mare, a little distance ahead of the others. His senses were alert for signs of enemies, but not blind to the splendor all around him. The countryside was as fine an example of Mother Earth at her best as he could remember.