Lone Arrow's Pride

by Karen Kay

  No matter that Pretty Moon might be staring at her as though she had suddenly turned green and grown horns, Carolyn said, “I could never wear something made by another woman.”

  Carolyn did not so much as touch it. Turning her back on Lone Arrow, as well as Pretty Moon and her husband, Carolyn arose and ambled toward a particularly lonely stretch of meadow. She needed to be alone.

  Never in her life had Carolyn felt more alien than she did to these people, to this part of the country, than she did at this moment. Let them think what they wanted. Carolyn only knew that she could not be with them. Alas, all she wanted at present was to get this entire ordeal over with and go home.

  Quickly…

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Has something happened?”

  Carolyn glanced over her shoulder, noting that Lone Arrow had come to squat beside her, the reins of his pony, A-la-pee, held in his hand, while the pony grazed off to the side.

  Carolyn looked away from the sight of him and that pony, her gaze fixed ahead of her. Odd, how her eye caught onto the little things in the environment: how the aspens grew aplenty in this part of the country; how few were the deciduous cottonwoods or ashes which dotted an otherwise monopoly of pines and evergreens.

  Lone Arrow came closer, however, and no matter that she tried to ignore him, Carolyn could feel the strength of his presence, there at her back. She ignored him as best she could, but he would not be overlooked, not for long, and he repeated, “Has something happened?”

  She swallowed noiselessly. Of course something had happened, was happening to her. But she could not tell him that. No, to Lone Arrow, Carolyn shook her head, turning her face away from him to stare straight ahead of her.

  “My friend’s wife said that you refused the offer of my robe.”

  Carolyn fidgeted.

  “And yet she says that you are cold.”

  Carolyn did not say a word, did not shrug, did not move. Nothing.

  “If you are cold, there is no reason why you cannot wear it. I am not chilled.” He placed the robe around her shoulders.

  But Carolyn shifted, letting the robe fall to the ground. Rising, she took a few steps away from him. She could not look at him, and she wished he would go away and leave her alone.

  With time, she thought, she might be able to talk to him again. With time, she might be all right. But not now. Now, she needed a few guarded moments to herself. Could he not understand that?

  “Did Pretty Moon say something wrong?”

  Carolyn shook her head.

  “Is it me?”

  Carolyn didn’t utter a single word.

  But it did not seem to matter. Lone Arrow said, “What have I done?”

  Carolyn sighed. She did not want to communicate, she did not want to say a word to him. But on the other hand, he did not seem to be leaving, either.

  Taking a deep breath, she uttered, “You could have told me. You have been with the white people long enough to learn English. You know how I would have felt.”

  “Tell you what?”

  She groaned. She could not say it.

  But he insisted, “What should I have known? What should I have told you?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “If it is nothing, you would not be over here, in a spot that is not easy to defend if some enemy should come upon us.”

  She took another step away from him.

  And he repeated, “What is it that I should have told you?”

  She turned on him. “I can’t believe that you would do it. That you would actually suggest…That you would actually…Oh!” She made to go around him, but he leaped in front of her, blocking her way. Exasperated, she gave him a slight shove, but when he did not budge, she accused, “How could you?”

  He could not have looked more confused had she unexpectedly changed form and become a buffalo bull. However, he seemed to have enough wit to ask, “That I would have actually suggested…? What?”

  “You know.”

  It was his turn to send an exasperated glance to the heavens, and he said, “If I knew, I would not be asking.”

  “What does it matter? It would mean nothing to you. Only to me.”

  He arched a brow. “Appease me,” he said. “Pretend for a moment that I am no more than a child and need these things explained to me.”

  She stiffened her spine and raised her chin at the same time. She said, “All right, I’ll tell you what’s wrong, if you really want to know, but only this once.”

  He nodded, arms over his chest, waiting. Gently, his pony came up to him and nudged him forward.

  “Kó-cháseh, stop that,” he told the animal. And dutifully, the animal went back to its munching.

  Carolyn took a step away, and she said, “You could have told me that you were…that you were…” she broke off.

  “Were what?”

  She stomped her foot. “That you were married, all right? I know it means nothing to you, but it does to me. It’s something you could have told me before…before…before—”

  “You know very well that I am married.”

  “Now,” she said. “Now, I know. But I didn’t then.”

  “Then?”

  She tilted her head. “You know, before…”

  “Before what?”

  “Oh! How can you be so stubborn?”

  It was his turn to inhale deeply. “I do not know what I am being stubborn about. You know that we are married. I was very exact about that.”

  “I don’t mean us.”

  He frowned, although it took barely a moment for realization to strike. And like a cloud dissipating before the blaze of a summer sun, he smiled.

  “Oh!” she said. “How can you grin about such a thing?”

  “You are jealous,” he observed. “You are jealous that I might already be married.”

  “I am not,” she said, although, in truth, the fight seemed to go out of her. However, attempting to muster it, she said, “It’s not that I am jealous. I am just…disappointed in you.”

  “Disappointed?” He frowned. “I did not please you?”

  Now it was Carolyn’s turn to be confused. “Please me?” she squinted her eyes. “About what?”

  He sighed. “I believe that we made love. Have these past six days been so long that you do not remember?”

  “Oh,” she replied, “that.” Carolyn gazed toward the ground, looking for all the world as if the grass beneath her feet was of the utmost interest.

  He prompted, “You are disappointed in me as a lover?”

  “I—”

  “It will be better next time.”

  Carolyn sighed. “It’s not that.”

  “Is it not?”

  She glanced up to catch his quizzical look at her. His brow was furrowed and it appeared as though he might be trying to see straight to her heart. But when this appeared to fail him, he asked, “Then what is it?”

  Carolyn remained silent.

  In truth, she was contemplating how to respond, when he said, “Pretty Moon thinks she might have spoken when perhaps she should have remained silent. She believes that she might have caused you to think bad things. Is this true? Or are you simply disappointed in me?”

  Carolyn pulled a face, but still she said nothing.

  “How did you come to think I am married?” he mumbled the question more to himself than to Carolyn. He picked up his robe, confusion marring his brow, until all at once he appeared to understand something. He asked, “Did Pretty Moon say anything about this buffalo robe?”

  Carolyn did not articulate a single word. It was in her mind to shake her head, but that would have been a lie, and all she accomplished doing was to send her chin reaching to the sky.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Did she tell you about my búua-lí-ché, my almost wife?”

  Carolyn spun around, presenting him with her back. She’d be darned if she was going to let him see that those few words stung.

  He asked, “What is wrong with my having a wo
man who was my búua-lí-ché?”

  “I think there is a great deal wrong with it.”

  He hesitated for an instant, but then persisted, “Have you never had a boyfriend?”

  “Of course I have, but—”

  He must have been taking tiny steps toward her, for she could feel his breath on the top of her head when he asked, “Do you expect me to be jealous of your boyfriends?”

  Blast the man. He simply did not understand. Turning her head a slight degree, she said, “There is nothing to be jealous about.”

  “Humph!” he made the sound low in his throat. Then, “And there is nothing for you to be jealous about.”

  It was her turn to utter a grunt, before she retorted, “Forgive me if I disagree.”

  He blew out his breath. “I cannot help that she made this robe for me.”

  “And you couldn’t help marrying her, either, I suppose?”

  He hesitated. And she thought that it sounded as though he were picking his words carefully. However, in a trice, he said, “I did not marry her. I am not married to her. She was a girlfriend, no more.”

  Carolyn went still.

  Lone Arrow continued, “Perhaps it is right that you should know that there has been much opportunity for me to marry, but until you asked me, I have not done so.”

  “You…you haven’t?” she asked, her back still held stiffly, though she leaned forward slightly. Then, in afterthought, she threw over her shoulder, “And I did not ask you to marry me.”

  “You did ask, and baa-lee-táa, no, I am not married to anyone but you.” He waited barely a moment before he added, “Though I could have been a husband many times.”

  Carolyn shut her eyes, letting the feeling of relief sweep through her. He was not married to another.

  The knowledge made her feel, oh, so much better, but she still could not quite give quarter. Not yet, anyway. Truth be known, this whole episode had brought on a few more questions. And spinning around to face him, she asked, “But that doesn’t bar you from wanting to marry another in the future, does it? No matter that you are tied to me, you could still take another wife into your home, couldn’t you?”

  He said, nodding, “Custom allows me this.”

  This was not good; not good at all. Biting her lip, Carolyn crossed her arms over her chest, as though the position might give her protection against what she was afraid she’d say next. But no matter his answer, she had to know. She asked, “And does custom also give you the right to cheat on your wife?”

  “What is this cheat?”

  She raised her head. “You know very well what it means.”

  Lone Arrow sighed. Indeed, he took a step away from her.

  She witnessed the withdrawal and surmised that perhaps he was feeling as stymied as she. But she could not allow him the chance to avoid the topic. This was too important a matter, and she would have this out with him, here, now, before another minute passed between them.

  It did not take him long to respond. Placing his hands gently upon her arms, he brought her a pace closer to him until she had no choice but to confront him, face-to-face. Only then did he say, “Know that it is a man’s privilege to have as many wives as he can afford. This is not a bad thing, for a wife’s duties are many, and help with the work is usually appreciated.”

  Carolyn snorted.

  “Know, too,” he continued, as though she had not reacted, “that it is a man’s right to mate with whomever he pleases, whenever he pleases. To have only one woman is, to my people, either a thing of shame or a thing of great beauty.”

  Carolyn bit her lip. Shame?

  “It is a shame to vow yourself to one woman and to remain faithful and loyal to her?”

  And when he responded in the positive, she said, “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  “Is it? Then I would ask you to think on this, too,” he continued. “For the Absarokee, a woman is as free to love another man as her husband is. Know that if you ever tire of me, if I do not treat you as you think best, you can throw me away and find another husband who suits you better.”

  Carolyn took a step backward, out of his grasp. But, as though she were cold, she promptly brought up her hands to chafe her arms.

  This concept was, perhaps, more than she could easily assimilate. What was this? A woman could break her marriage vows as easily as a man…without consequence to her standing within the tribe? Had he really told her that?

  Well, if that comment was supposed to make her feel better, Carolyn decided that it had missed its mark completely. Although this “eye for an eye” philosophy might seem fair to some, for Carolyn, two wrongs would not make a right.

  At least not for her. And she said, “But I could not do that. I could not watch my husband with another woman, even knowing that I could do the same thing back to him. It would cause me anguish, I fear. Nor,” she continued when he might have spoken, “could I throw you away, divorce you, and keep my self-respect. Besides, I think we’re speaking of different things. I’m talking about the possibility of your taking another wife, as well as keeping me. You’re telling me about Crow wives being able to take lovers. It’s not quite the same thing, is it? Unless…Do the Crow allow a woman to have more than one husband at the same time, like a man does?”

  “Of course not.” Lone Arrow shook his head. “What woman would want another one? Someone else demanding that she cook and sew for him? That she have his children?” He snorted. “I know of no woman who would desire this.”

  Carolyn shot up her chin. “Then it’s not the same thing at all, is it? And to tell you the truth, it doesn’t really matter if a woman is allowed to divorce her husband or not, for she still doesn’t have the same rights as a man.”

  He looked askance at her. “And,” he said, “in your world, women are allowed this?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then the Absarokee way is better,” he said. “For the women from my tribe could have a lover as well as a husband.” He pointed to her. “You could, if you wanted one.”

  Carolyn chanced a quick look up toward him, and caught his frown. She asked, “While I am married to you?”

  He nodded.

  She grew quiet at that, until at last she asked, “If I were to do that, what would you do?”

  Lone Arrow’s frown deepened until the two furrows between his eyes looked as though they might never disappear. He said, “It is a great man who will endure a hurt, such as having his wife take another lover. It is a great man who would suffer this without seeking revenge. Know that I would not like this to happen,” he said, “but I would tolerate it. I would only hope that you would not love this other man.”

  “But you would let me do it?”

  “Éeh. It is not my choice. You are as free to love another as I am.”

  Carolyn swung her gaze up toward the heavens, as though only from there could she find solace, or perhaps a place away from where such unconventional customs were understood. And she asked, “Then why get married at all?”

  Lone Arrow glowered at her. However, he also appeared to be deep in thought, and it took him some moments before he said, “A man and a woman get married because it is within the heart of every person, be they man or woman, to love one another for their whole life. While my people may encourage a man to stray, and will not condemn a woman who does—for the flesh can be weak—it is still within the hearts of all men and women to marry and love each other…forever.”

  Ah, she thought, how agreeable did these words sound; very pretty. However, there was still something missing in this scenario; something that did not sit well with her. And she said, “But this makes no sense. You tell me that you can have a lover anytime you desire. Then you tell me that it is within the hearts of all men and women to fall in love, to marry and to remain married for all their lives. My question is: how can a woman love a man who constantly takes another to his bed, perhaps even into his heart?”

  When Lone Arrow did not answer at once, she continued, �
�No, I am afraid you speak in riddles. It cannot be both ways.”

  He shrugged. “And yet it is. I have known many a husband and wife who have been married all their lives…some as many as fifty years. Perhaps when a man loves a woman enough, he does not wish to have another wife.”

  “Perhaps,” she conceded. “Although,” she asked after a slight pause, “what is to be my fate, when you do not even know if you love me?”

  He remained silent.

  After a moment, she asked, “So why did you?”

  “Why did I what? Marry you?”

  She nodded.

  “Because…” he hesitated. “Because…” he began again…

  “You don’t even know, do you? Did you marry me only to bed me?”

  He drew in a ragged breath, as though he were shaken. But whether from shock that she would voice the words aloud, or from an inability to find the right thing to say, she did not know. Ultimately, however, he let out his breath, giving her an odd look before he began, “I know why I married you, and éeh, yes, taking you to my bed was part of it.”

  “Oh!” She turned her back on him, not wanting him to witness the hurt that this admission caused her.

  She had sensed this, of course. In truth, she had counted on his carnal desires; had made her plans to encourage whatever of his lust she could muster, hoping that she would be able to enlist his aid because of it.

  And in doing so, a small voice within her asked, had she been any better than he?

  Perhaps not, she answered to herself. But at this particular moment, she could not even consider her own misdoings. Truth be known, she had all but forgotten her part in this.

  She heard him come up behind her, could feel the heat of his presence, there at her back, but she refused to turn to face him. After a moment, he placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “There is more.”

  She tossed her head, but otherwise remained silent. And he continued, “You are a part of me.” He had said it softly, into her ear. “I do not understand it, myself. Perhaps it is because you once disturbed me when I was seeking a vision. Maybe it is something else. I can only tell you that somehow, in some way, I am not complete without you.”