by Karen Kay
Carolyn caught her breath. “Truly?” she uttered.
“Have you known me to lie about such things?”
Slowly, she turned until she was able to stare up into his eyes. Heartened by the look of sincerity she saw there, she asked, “Does that mean that you like me well enough that you would not marry another, if the opportunity ever presented itself?”
She watched as he drew his brows together; watched as the joy went out of features, watched as he withdrew from her in spirit. And at length, when he said, “While it would aid my cause if I could tell you that”—Carolyn knew she had asked more than he could give. And she did not need his—“but I cannot”—to confirm her loss…
Chapter Seventeen
Lone Arrow, however, had not finished speaking, and he continued, saying, “Understand me well. It is also for your sake that I tell you this.”
For her sake? Had she truly heard that? How could a man say such a stupid thing? How could he say it and expect a woman to believe it? Resentment flared within her.
Truth be told, none of this was for her. It was an “all for me, none for thee” philosophy. And quite readily, Carolyn flung back at him, “For me? Forgive me, but I don’t think any of this has been said for my benefit.”
While his stare might have thrown daggers at her had he been able, all he said was, “Our women do much work. What if you discovered the tasks to be too much for you? Would you not ask me to marry again?”
“I would rather perish first.”
He shook his head. “I think that you might.”
“Might what? Perish?”
He snorted. “Ask me to take another wife.”
“Never,” Carolyn uttered. “I would never do that.”
She should say something else, something damaging about all this extra wife nonsense. But what? It wasn’t that she was afraid to speak up to him, or to tell him what was in her mind. It was rather that she did not know what to say that would make any difference.
To tell him that polygamy was bad would have gained her nothing. He had grown up with it; it was a common factor in his life. Not only that: he understood and agreed with it.
In truth, this entire conversation confused Carolyn.
True, though she might have known that the Indian male held fast to the idea of polygamy, the concept that it might affect her had not been readily apparent. At least it hadn’t been back there in Virginia City, when she had first made her plans, and where the heart of Indian country had seemed miles away. Of course back then, she had not even considered the idea of marriage.
Problem was, Carolyn was not prepared for the reality of such a mindset—now or any time in the future. And she really did not require him to repeat himself.
Nevertheless, as though he were duty-bound to reiterate it, he said, “I could not promise you a marriage without other wives.”
At a loss for words, Carolyn gulped, taking a quick step away from him. After some moments, she said, “I see. Then, I must confess that our marriage is doomed—”
“It is not doomed.”
She looked away from him. “I’m afraid,” she said, “that I would have to disagree.”
“Why? There is no other woman in my life.”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, as she said, “But there is a good chance that there might be one in our future.”
“There is always that chance, no matter if you are Indian or white.”
“I don’t think so,” Carolyn countered. “A white man is not allowed more than one wife. Before his God, he pledges himself to one, alone.”
But her words seemed to have no effect on Lone Arrow, for he observed, rather smugly, “And the white man just as easily forgets those vows.”
Carolyn shook her head. “Not if he be an honest man.”
Lone Arrow snickered, saying, “If there is such a thing, bring this person here and let me meet him.” Lone Arrow held up his hand when she would have interrupted. He continued, “Do not be deceived. Though the Crow are friendly to the whites, do not think that we have not found this man difficult to understand. As the wise ones in my tribe counsel, the white man keeps his laws and his god always behind him.”
“Behind him?”
“Éeh, there for use when dealing with strangers, and that is all. We long ago learned that although the white man may speak loudly about his law and how it is made for the good of all, we soon realized that although he expects the Indian to obey this law, the white man, himself, will break his own principles without a second thought.”
Carolyn remained silent. In essence, she was once more at a loss for words. Unfortunately, what Lone Arrow said was too close to the truth.
But her reply was unnecessary, for he went on to say, “This is not the Indian way. We do not make a decree and then break it when it suits us to do so. We expect to keep our laws like we keep our word, once pledged.”
Carolyn threw back her head, tilting it up at an angle as she said, “If that is true, then you should keep your vow of marriage.”
“I am,” he countered. “I said I would take you for my wife. I have.”
“But when I married you,” she pointed out, “I thought that we were pledging our fidelity to one another, alone. I had no cause to think otherwise, for this is what marriage means to the white man.”
He sighed. “This is not the Absarokee way.”
“But it should be.”
Lone Arrow did not speak for some moments, neither to agree, nor to refute her.
And Carolyn went on to say, “I am sorry, Lone Arrow, for I realize that you might need an Indian wife, if only to help with the work or to make our marriage more acceptable. However, know that I cannot be part of such a scenario. Perhaps it is best if I tell you that if you take another woman as a wife, I cannot stay with you.”
He nodded, as though the concept of her loss meant nothing to him. He said, “That is your right.”
Darn the man!
She said, “Let me take it a step further.”
He nodded again.
“As I’ve already said, when I married you, it was with the belief that we were vowing our loyalty and devotion to one another. If what you say is true, and you cannot give me your pledge of fidelity, here, now and in this place, I will have no choice but to end our marriage.”
Carolyn bit her lip. Had she really been reduced to delivering ultimatums?
She watched as he frowned; stared at him as he jerked his head to the left, as though he were fighting a battle within himself. And at some length, he said, “Isn’t that…taking too large of a leap?”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But I think it is fitting for the occasion.”
He clenched his jaw, throwing his chin up at an angle, as he said, “Then do you throw me away?”
“I…”
He took a step forward and, placing a finger under her chin, raised her face to his so she would have no choice but to look into his eyes. He said, “You should know what you do.”
“I…I…”
“You should know that a man would be made the butt of jokes, that his honor would be gone, never to be repaired, if he were to ever take back a wife who had thrown him away.”
Never?
She said, “You don’t understand. Even if I didn’t want to divorce you, I must.”
“Must?”
She nodded, continuing, “I had thought that perhaps, because you have spent time with the white man, you would have known this. But maybe I was wrong.”
“I have not had very much to do with the white man’s laws of marriage.”
“I see.”
He paused, then added, “You said nothing of these things when you proposed to me. And you had much opportunity to do so before you went into the union with me.”
“That may be so, but I’m saying it now.”
She stared at him as a muscle flicked in his cheek. But all he said was, “I would never presume to pass judgment on another’s beliefs or his country’s
laws, but I do not understand why your people would demand vows that are too easily broken. It is not that your men and women are any different than ours.”
“Perhaps they are.”
He arched a brow. “Are they?”
She took a step back.
And he went on to say, “I have seen married men come amongst my people and take our women to their sleeping robes. I have seen a white man marry more than one woman. I have even witnessed a white man take to his bed another white woman who was not his wife.”
Carolyn cleared her throat. “Yes, I am aware that there are men of little character who might do these things, but—”
“And tell me true, in your culture, is a woman allowed the same rights as a man?”
Carolyn groped for words. “Some women are.”
“And are they well thought of afterward?”
Of course they weren’t. Such women were regarded as ladies of the night—to whom no God-fearing woman would even speak.
But Carolyn was not about to tell Lone Arrow that.
He took one more step forward, she another hasty one back. He said, “The white woman is not well thought of if she strays. I have seen that she is not. At least the Absarokee do not have one standard of character for a man and another for a woman.”
Score one for Lone Arrow, Carolyn thought.
Nonetheless, she took another pace away from him, and said, “That is not the point.”
He sucked in his breath slowly, and he took his time before he said, “Is it so wrong that I am honest? Is it so bad that my people are honorable? That they do not punish a moment of weakness? In either their men or their women?
“Hear me now,” he continued. “I cannot tell you true that I will never have another woman. For I do not know what the future holds. I can only tell you that I would keep you as my wife. I would grant you more honor than I have ever given to another woman. And I would do all within my power to make our lives a happy one. He who would promise more is a fool.”
“And you are certainly no fool,” she said.
She might have uttered a few other thoughts on the subject, but she had no more than opened her mouth when he said, “Think well on all we have said before you throw me away. When we married, we did not know what was in each other’s hearts. Now we do.”
“But I could—”
He held up his hand. “Think on it,” he said. “As the wise ones counsel, a thing once said cannot be taken back.”
“I—”
He placed his fingers over his lips.
One long moment followed upon another, neither of them making a move to leave; neither speaking. And truth be known, they might have stood as such for the entire day had Big Elk not called to Lone Arrow, seeking assistance.
Even so, it took Lone Arrow a lengthy time before he straightened up, and then he said to her, “You should go back to camp and help Pretty Moon. We leave from this place at once.”
This said, he made to leave.
But Carolyn caught his arm when he would have walked away. And though her touch was light upon him, she felt him tremble.
It gave her pause. Was he as upset as she?
And this brought on another worry. She said, albeit a little sheepishly, “Do we still go to the cave?”
He pulled his lips into a line before finally gazing down at her. Shortly, he said, “What would you do if I said no? That we make camp and wait until you make your decision?”
Would he do that?
She must have appeared flabbergasted, for he continued, “Do not worry. Though the white man might be allowed to change his mind to suit only himself, I am a man of honor. I said I would take you there. I will.”
“Truly?”
“Éeh. Why would I hesitate?” he asked, leering at her. He continued, “There is no reason why I should not take you there. Especially since, once we arrive near the cave, I will be able to see you, as nature intended me to see you, as I have often witnessed you in my dreams. And for that moment,” he added, “it will be worth the journey.”
And upon this rather carnal suggestion, and with a half-cocked rakish grin, he spun away from her to trod off in the opposite direction, leaving Carolyn alone with her own thoughts.
And they were considerable.
Chapter Eighteen
Carolyn and Pretty Moon sat together in a meadow beside a pine-covered mountain and watched Lone Arrow and Big Elk disappear into the forest.
Glancing toward the place where she had last seen them, Carolyn wondered what the two men were doing. She hated to ask, particularly since Pretty Moon did not volunteer the information. However, after a time, Carolyn questioned, “Do you have an idea what’s going on? Why we have stopped here?”
Pretty Moon contemplated her seriously for a moment, causing Carolyn to wonder if she had committed some Indian faux pas with her simple question. But soon, Pretty Moon grinned. She said, “Our men…find…war lodge.”
Our men? Carolyn grimaced. Was he still her man? Aloud she asked, “War lodge?”
Pretty Moon inclined her head. “In…forest.” She pointed, then using sign language and speaking in Crow at the same time, she said, “We must be close to a war trail, for this is where our tribe, and even our enemies, build these kinds of lodges.”
Carolyn, while she did not understand the foreign words, certainly grasped the meaning of the signs. In response, she gestured, while she spoke in English, “Are we in danger?”
“Our men go…see. You…not…worry. If…enemy here in…Absarokee country, they…find,” Pretty Moon signed, as she spoke the English words. “Your husband…good…wolf.”
“Wolf?”
“Éeh, yes. White man…call it…scout, I think.”
A good scout. Was he? Carolyn frowned. There was so much about Lone Arrow that she did not know.
She should also correct Pretty Moon, Carolyn thought. She should tell her that neither she nor Lone Arrow were married, at least not to each other at this present moment.
No, that was not right.
Perhaps she should simply say that she and Lone Arrow were uncertain as to the exact nature of their relationship. There, that was a little truer.
But, as these things sometimes do, the moment when she might have confessed, passed. Carolyn remained silent.
After a while, she asked, “What is a war lodge?”
“It is lodge,” said Pretty Moon in English, “warriors build…when…on warpath.”
“Really?”
Pretty Moon nodded.
“Will we be able to see it today?”
“If…there is…no enemy.” Then, in sign, “Because we are in the mountains, these war lodges stand in the deep forest. It hides them better.”
“I see,” Carolyn said.
Pretty Moon inclined her head, then continued in sign, “War lodges are built close to a war trail, also, and this is not good. We are not prepared to meet an enemy.”
Carolyn pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes, before she ventured, “We aren’t?” Hadn’t she seen both men carrying weapons? Very deadly looking weapons?
“Baa-lee-táa, no,” said Pretty Moon, switching to gestures. “There are only four of us, and, as you know, two of us, women. If an enemy war party were too big, we would be overpowered.”
“Oh,” said Carolyn.
“That is why,” continued Pretty Moon in sign, “our men are being cautious, why we are traveling so slowly.”
Perhaps it was foolish to mention it, but Carolyn could not resist saying, “We are going slowly?”
Pretty Moon grinned, then nodded. “For…Indians.”
“Oh!” said Carolyn, and she might have stated even more, but at that moment, Lone Arrow and Big Elk returned.
Speaking in Crow, and ignoring Carolyn completely, the men addressed Pretty Moon. Carolyn, meantime, glared at him.
All right, so they’d had an argument. That did not give him the right to ignore her, did it?
Perhaps it did.
Carolyn looked away from the three of them, but her eye kept being drawn back to him. And secretly, she studied him.
Drat! Why did he have to look so attractive?
His hair was once more caught in a braid at each side of his face. Each plait was tied with rawhide, she noted, to keep it in place, while an eagle feather dangled from one of those braids. And at the back of his head, Lone Arrow had positioned two more feathers, which stuck straight up. It was a stunning effect, particularly since Carolyn knew the feathers meant that he had counted coup, and at such a young age.
Look away, she scolded herself. She should take no undue notice of him.
Still, she could not resist the opportunity to study him unobserved, to compare him to Big Elk.
While both men were tall and slim, Big Elk’s face looked perhaps a little more foreign. Rounder or broader, maybe. Of course it was only her opinion, but Big Elk was not nearly as handsome as her own man.
Her own?
Carolyn sighed. It never ceased to amaze her how, no matter her frustration with the man, she was drawn to him.
Dark, midnight black eyes; long, aquiline nose; high cheekbones, full lips. His features were striking, but in her opinion, his good looks were threatened by his intense pride.
How, she wondered, had Lone Arrow become so self-assured? And at such a young age? If he had been no more than sixteen when she had first known him, then he was only twenty-four or twenty-five now.
She shook her head. While Lone Arrow might look that young, he certainly did not act it. No, by the way he held himself, by his attitude and the wisdom with which he spoke, one might have thought he had lived an entire century.
She sighed, and while her gaze skimmed lower, to his chest, she wondered why he hadn’t married—that is, until she had proposed it. He would have certainly made a good prospect for some young woman.
That thought was anything but pleasant, for Carolyn was not so naive that she believed there had been no women in his life. In truth, both he and Pretty Moon had intimated as much.
Carolyn glanced away from him, but within moments, without consciously deciding to do so, she found her awareness drifting back to him. His chest wasn’t overly large, she decided, but even beneath his shirt, she could see that he was solid, strong and muscular.