by Karen Kay
A young boy playing with her in the water, teasing her, yet keeping her lonely self company. A soulful wish from the bottom of her heart to see that same boy again. That this man had recently come to her aid when no one else would endeared him to her.
Interrupting her thoughts, he said, “Now you must dress. I will not be able to help you with your clothes any further, however. I must prepare for our journey. Do you think you can manage it on your own?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I would like you to stay.”
He sighed. “I cannot. You know I cannot. If I stay, it is natural that I will try to urge more passion from you, and I fear, because we both are aware of our desire for each other, you might let me succeed.”
“Is that so bad? I have some friends who often indulge—”
“Without marriage, I would disgrace you. As it is, I fear I may have already pushed you too far.”
“Too far?”
“It is well known that a woman, when she desires a man, can lose concept of where she is and who she is with, if a man takes her too far into passion. ’Tis why a girl, after a certain age, is guarded so greatly by her parents and her aunts. When a man truly loves a woman, it is up to him to stop these things and keep his woman’s honor intact. Sometimes, though, he too goes too far and cannot pull back.”
For the second time that evening, Effie was astonished by this man’s wisdom. Not knowing what to say or how to respond, she remained silent.
“I will meet you at the river as soon as you are dressed in my clothes.”
She dipped her head in agreement, then whispered, “Very well.”
No sooner had the words been uttered than he was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
Red Hawk took pains to make her invisible to the environment because even at night, a scout took no risks. So to this end, he had applied mud to her face, her clothes and every inch of her skin.
“It stings,” she complained softly, as she followed Red Hawk in an unchartered path across the prairie. That they traveled beneath shrubs, crawling through and over prairie grass, using it as a cover when it was long enough, she would never have expected. Had she thought about it, she would have reckoned they would have ridden horses. How wrong she was.
Apparently, scouts did not do their work mounted. Nor did they keep to well-known and useable trails.
“You will become accustomed to the sting of the mud.” His voice was low, barely audible.
“Will I? Somehow that seems almost impossible.”
“I cannot wash it off you. ’Tis your defense when you are entering a country you do not know well. You must blend into your environment.”
“Oh, very well. How much farther have we to go?”
He turned to face her. He, too, was a sight to behold. He wore nothing more than breechcloth, leggings and moccasins. Every other inch of his skin was covered in mud, with grass and twigs sticking out at random places. His ever-present quiver full of arrows was strung over his back, and his bow was flung over his arm. Bags hung around his neck and his shoulders.
His breast was wide, his arms were strong and those leggings fit him quite tightly. His hair was in braids, two at the side of his face and one braided lock of hair straight down his back. Though most Indian men of her acquaintance commonly wore an incredible amount of jewelry, there was little to be seen on this man except for her chain around his neck and a string of blue and white beads dangling from a lock of his hair. Yet, odd or not, mud or not, the man exuded a provocative quality that was as stimulating as it was endearing.
Grinning at her, he said, “You remind me of a young child. Know that a good scout does not complain, for we have an entire night ahead of us.”
“Have you considered the fact that I am not a scout?”
“Saa, so you are not. Do you wish to rest here for a little while?”
“Yes.” She jumped on the chance. “I don’t think my knees will ever be the same again. I am glad the leather of these leggings is tough, for I fear that were I dressed in any of my own clothes, they would have given out long ago.”
“I am glad you appreciate them. Come.” He assumed once again a hands-and-knees position. “There is a stand of bushes next to that stream.” He pointed. “Do you see them?”
“Yes.”
“We will go there. So far, I have not detected a sign of an enemy, but we must be certain. I will take you there. You may relax, and I will scout the area around the place, to ensure it is safe enough to stay there.”
“Very well.”
It took only a few minutes to crawl to the bushes, which grew in a thick patch adjacent to the narrow shoreline of the stream. The two of them did literally crawl there, on arms and belly.
She said, “I don’t think I will ever take your duties for granted again, Mr. Hawk.”
He didn’t acknowledge this. “Wait here. Do not move, do not say anything, do nothing at all until I return. Do you understand?”
“May I breathe?”
He shot her an alluring grin, and then he was gone.
She scratched a particularly itchy part of her skin, wondering what she would look like on the morrow. Would she be red from the mud caked all over her? Would she have welts where the dry and unruly grasses had scratched her?
At least the mud acted as a sort of protection, which went a long way to shield her against many cuts and scrapes. But dear Lord, her feminine persona was certainly taking a beating tonight. With gook covering every inch of her, she probably looked more like a monster than a woman. So much for her vision of strolling leisurely across the prairie, with Red Hawk admiring her beauty beneath a full moon.
There wasn’t even a full moon. In fact, there was no moon at all this night. At first she’d fretted over this condition—certain it would be too dark to go anywhere. Red Hawk had calmed her, telling her that the lack of a moon was to their advantage.
“Old Woman, or the moon, as you call her,” he had explained, “casts shadows, and a scout must always be wary of his silhouette beneath her beams, for its reflection can be seen even when he cannot be.”
Settling down beneath the bushes and glancing above her, she looked at the millions of stars winking at her.
She was startled by a sound. What was that?
Her heart beat a cadence against her chest. There it was again. A snapping sound, like someone moving. She looked in the direction from whence it came and saw that a doe had wandered to the stream, just ahead of her.
She hadn’t sensed its presence, and she felt a little silly for starting at the least sound. Inhaling deeply, if only to calm herself, she was at once struck by the fragrances of the night. Here in the bushes was a leafy scent, quite different from the earthy odor of the grasses and mud to which she had become quite accustomed this evening.
“I believe this place is secure enough.”
Effie jumped. She hadn’t heard Red Hawk return.
“Don’t do that,” she gasped. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. There is enough to be frightened of in the night, without you giving me a start.”
“But I made much noise.”
“Perhaps you did. However, I am not accustomed to this and do not know what sounds are dangerous and what are not.”
“You are right, of course. But I disagree that there is much to be frightened of at night. It is the safest time in which to travel.”
“Perhaps,” she said, not willing to give quarter.
He seemed to have dismissed the subject, and he sat down beside her and held out his hand. “I have brought some dry meat with me. Would you like some?”
“Yes, please.” She took the proffered jerky. “I hadn’t even thought of food or getting hungry on the trail. I guess maybe I didn’t think we would be gone very long.”
“We will be traveling through most of the night. It is to be regretted t
hat it is taking longer for me to scout the trail ahead of us. But it is necessary to go slower.”
“Because of me.”
“Because I would be more careful and keep you safe.”
“Thank you, I think.” She stretched. “I surely need the rest. I am so tired and sore that I believe I will sleep well tomorrow night.”
He grinned at her. “’Tis to be expected that you are, and that you will.” He handed her another piece of jerky, which she took from him eagerly. “Your fingers are very small,” he commented, as he held up his hand in comparison.
She smiled as best she could beneath the muddy mask. “Yes, they are. I believe that nature has intended it to be this way.”
“Aa.”
“Mr. Hawk?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me, what was it like living in a mist?”
He shrugged. “Much the same as I live here from day to day. Except perhaps that the mornings were always filled with fog. Always. But it was not as different as you might think.”
“Really?”
“I would simply go to sleep and arise with what seemed to me to be the next day. I was unaware that so many winters had passed between laying my head down and arising, or that the elders of our tribe were awake and aware all through those many years. Until I learned of it, I did not realize that our tribe was cursed.”
She nodded. “Did you notice changes to the land?”
“Aa. In this way, one could discern that many years had passed.”
“But it didn’t occur to you that this was unusual?”
“It did not,” he responded. “Not until I was older.”
“And what about the language? You tell me that the Lost Clan is a band of the Blackfoot people? And when you left, you came to live with a tribe that is also part of the Blackfoot Confederacy?”
“Aa.”
“Is the language now much different than the language of the Clan?”
“It has changed somewhat, but not enough that I do not speak or understand it well.”
“I see,” she said. “It does remind me that you promised to tell me what kitsikakomimmo means. Did you forget?”
He paused. “I have not forgotten. But before I tell you what it means, let me hear you say it again.”
“What? Kitsikakomimmo?”
“Aa. One more time.”
“Kitsikakomimmo. What does it mean?”
He winked at her. “It means I love you, and thank you.”
She laughed softly. “You tricked me.”
“So I did. But it was good to hear it from your lips.” If he had expected her to say the phrase again or to comment on his teasing, he certainly didn’t give any indication of it. Instead, he lay on his back, and after a while, she did the same. Pointing toward the heavens, he said, “Do you see that group of stars that the white man names the Big Dipper?”
“Yes.”
“In my country, we call those stars the Seven Brothers. As the legend goes, there were once seven brothers who escaped into the sky to prevent certain death. Hannia, once they were taken up there, next to the heavens, they remained safe and unharmed. It was a good place for them, and so there they linger, to this day. And that…” he pointed out the beautiful Pleiades constellation, “…we call the Lost Children.”
“We call it the—”
“Pleiades,” he finished. “Yes, I know. Perhaps you might remember that I did once escort a black robe into Flathead country, and it was from him I learned your language.”
“Yes. And what do you call that?” She indicated the planet Mars.
“The Blackfeet have named that the Big Fire Star.”
“How appropriate.” She sighed. “It’s quite beautiful, here on the plains at night, isn’t it? It’s one of the things I remember most from my childhood. When we were here before, we often slept out under the stars. I think it’s one of the main reasons why I have continued the career that my father loves so much. I, too, share the adoration of antiquity, plus I love the open spaces.”
“As do I,” he said. “As do I.”
After a time, she asked, “Have you seen any signs of an enemy?”
“Saa,” he answered. “And it is good I have not. I think our journey tomorrow will be safe enough, unless a war party comes upon us unexpected and stops us.”
“How likely is that to happen?”
“It could occur.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. In truth, we’ll face that most every day of this journey, won’t we?”
“Aa, we will. But I will do all I can to keep us safe. And now, tell me, what else weighs on your mind?”
“I do have one question. Is the only reason you want to marry me because you feel I will lead you to the other artifacts? I am assuming these treasures are in some way tied to your hope of ending the curse for your people.”
When he remained silent, she went on, “Is that why you are eager for marriage?”
His first answer was a smile as he slowly shook his head. Then he said, “Have you never seen yourself in one of the white man’s mirrors?”
“Of course I have, but—”
“Haiya, then you should understand why I want to marry you. ’Tis the honorable thing to do, for I mean to have you.”
“Have me?”
He picked up her hand. “I want to make love to you.”
No sooner had the words been spoken than excitement shot through her. She caught her breath.
“But you have said,” he added, “that you do not want to marry me, and so I must not—”
“It’s not a matter of want or not wanting,” she asserted, interrupting him. “It’s a concern of…of…” Of what? she wondered. “Of trust,” she added, groping. “How do I know you’re not proposing marriage in order to get at the artifacts I carry? Marriage would certainly make it easier, and I know you want them.”
“I do want them, as do you.”
“You see? There. You said it.” She folded her arms over her chest.
At last he sat up, and turning to face her, he took her hand in his again, his fingers entwining with hers. “Long is the time I have thought of you. Long is the time I have wondered about you. Long is the time I have awaited your return to this country. That you carry something that could help me, my people, is important, but it is not important to how I feel. I would love you despite this.”
She stared straight into his eyes, wishing she could read his mind. But it was a pointless activity, and after a while, she said, “How do I know that’s true? That you’re not just repeating words you know will get you what you want?”
“You don’t know that. Not yet…”
Something splashed in the stream next to them. She jumped.
“Do not fret,” he soothed, taking her in his arms. “’Tis probably a fish or a beaver. Stay here while I investigate.”
As quickly as that, he was gone.
Not more than a few minutes passed before he was back at her side. “Poohsapoot, come. I wish to show you something.”
“What? What is it?”
“Come.” Taking her hand, he urged her to follow him. Belly crawling, they scooted toward the water. “There. Look.”
At first she didn’t see it, so caught up was she in admiring the delightful scene unfolding before her. The smooth-standing water, which was laid out over the prairie like a gigantic mirror, magnified the sky overhead. It was as though she gazed onto a dark, star-laden canvas, and the stars twinkled not only above them, but below them, as well. Thus, it took a while before she noted the pony, which had stopped by the water’s edge to drink.
“He is wild,” Red Hawk said in a low voice, pointing to the animal. “There are no marks on him to show his master, so I do not believe there is someone close by who owns him. And he is young. Probably he has feuded with the leader
of his herd and has been cast out as a result. He will have to fend for himself, get his own mares and create his own herd.”
“Is he all on his own, then?”
“Perhaps.”
“Isn’t that dangerous at this time of night?”
Red Hawk looked at her and smiled. “You sound like a mother, but you are right. He should not be alone, and there are most likely a few other young males with him, as they tend to herd together when they are this young.”
What a magical moment it was, for such was the peace and tranquility of this place that she found a part of herself reaching out into the environment. Was man really meant to live in cities? Apart from the earth? And was it really necessary to tame the wilderness, as well as the individuals who lived in it? Especially when it seemed perfect just as it was?
How long they sat as such, taking in the perfect harmony of the land, the sky, the water, she would never be able to estimate, nor did it cross her mind to do so.
At last, the young stud must have drank his fill, for he lifted his head, turned around and calmly trotted back the way he had come. Within moments, he was followed by a few more ponies.
She whispered, “I hadn’t seen those two.”
“Aa, it is to be expected. ’Tis difficult sometimes for the eyes to see that far away, at least in this light. Come, let us drink as well.”
She held him back when he would have moved forward. “Won’t we run the risk of washing off this mud? After all, didn’t you say it was our cover?”
“It is so, but there is the same sort of mud here that I used to paint our bodies. We can repaint ourselves, if we must.”
“Very well.” She followed him as they crept toward the stream.
The water was not deep, at least here at its shoreline.
Coming down onto their bellies, they reached out around the grasses to drink of the cool, liquid refreshment.
“Oh, it’s cold,” she said, as soon as her hands cupped the water.
“It is fed by mountain streams, so yes, it will be cold.”
“Oh.” She glanced toward him. It was then she realized he was not more than a hand’s breadth away from her. Not far at all. A rather easy target, actually.