by Karen Kay
Despite herself, that statement had the effect of sending waves of pure excitement running up and down her spine. Just the remembrance of the one night they had spent together…
Did he want to repeat it?
The thought was naughty beyond comparison. Naughty, yet stimulating. And in reaction, she quivered.
Clutching her hands together, as though the gesture might still their trembling, she observed, “If you have been alone these past few nights, it’s your own fault. You have not approached me. Plus, you are always with your friends.”
“And I would be welcome if I did come to you?”
She raised her shoulders.
He let out his breath. “It has been in my heart,” he said, “to let you decide what you want to do with our marriage.”
“I know,” she replied. “And I thank you for that, but…”
He remained silent, scrutinizing her while she hesitated.
And she continued, “…You will abide with whatever decision I make?”
He nodded.
And Carolyn looked away. What had happened to her earlier resolve to “let him go”? And she wondered, why was it so much easier to decide to end an affiliation like this when one was not confronted by the person?
He asked, “Do you know yet what your decision will be?”
But she could not speak up, and when it seemed there might be no forthcoming answer, he asked further, “What is it that you want?”
She groaned inwardly, while she grasped for words. What did she want? That was easy. Him, she answered her own question readily.
But was that true? How could she desire this man, be in love with him, when she aspired to change him?
Perhaps, she thought, this was why she kept coaxing herself to walk away from him. Because she loved him, because she wanted only the best for him, she would not try to change him, would not press him into being something that he was not.
That did not mean, however, that she could live in polygamy. No, she had to live her life as she knew it to be right for her.
The truth was, she admitted, she had promised Lone Arrow either marriage or the use of her body. And she had honored their agreement with her innocence. There was little more to consider.
Except that she loved this man. And the very essence of that emotion made her want to be close to him…
To his credit, Lone Arrow did not prompt her as she stood before him, immersed in thought.
At last, she said, “I would stay married to you,” she began, “if I could put aside my ideals of what is a good marriage.”
He did not utter a word, and his gaze did not falter from her.
She, on the other hand, could barely spare him a quick glance as she continued, “But, I cannot do that. I cannot put aside all that I have ever held dear about the holy state of matrimony. It would destroy me to do so.”
Looking to him for a reaction, she noted that a muscle flicked in his cheek. But he did no more than nod at her, although eventually, he muttered, “I have no wish to destroy you.”
“I know,” she said. “It is why I think that we should—”
She did not get the words from her mouth, for he had placed a finger over her lips.
He said, “Do not say it.”
She acknowledged him with a nod.
He gazed away from her, his breathing ragged.
Observing him thusly, she wondered, Did it mean so much to him? Dare she hope?
How long they sat there, not uttering a single word, she didn’t know. But, with other things still on her mind, she broke the silence. “Lone Arrow, there is something else I must know.”
He nodded, an encouraging signal for her to continue.
And she said, “You did not defend your reasons for marrying me very well to your, ah…father…I’m sorry, Lone Arrow. I can’t think of that young man as your father.”
“I understand,” said Lone Arrow.
But she barely heard him. “Truth be known,” she went on to say, “you didn’t defend yourself to your…your friend, either.”
Lone Arrow acknowledged her with a quick head motion, and then, mumbling to himself, he uttered, “I forgot that you can read our signs.”
“Well, yes, I can.”
He nodded and said, “There is something I should tell you, something that you should know. It might help you to understand my conversation with biilápxe a little.”
“Biilápxe?”
“It means ‘my father’ from my father’s clan. You might think of him as a male relative.”
“Fine,” she said.
“Come,” he said. “Come sit with me and I will tell you about this.”
“About?…”
“Éeh, yes, about it. Come,” he motioned to her. “Come with me. There is yet a more secluded place where we can talk without the ears of the night listening to us.”
The ears of the night? What did that mean? Were there other people listening to them?
An image of Lone Arrow’s clan “father” swam before her eyes. But surely not. He was off in some other part of the forest, wasn’t he?
As though she might clear her mind, Carolyn shook her head. She would ask Lone Arrow about it later. For now, it was enough that she follow Lone Arrow’s footsteps as he led her to yet another place.
Chapter Twenty-One
The screech of a night hawk, along with the constant howling of the wind, added an eerie quality to the night. Carolyn pulled the buffalo robe more tightly around her and stared off to her left, where she had heard a branch break…and tripped over a tree limb, falling face forward.
Darn! She should have been watching where she was going. Luckily, the robe cushioned her fall, and she was able to hold back her cry. But not the wetness on the ground. Rain-soaked earth met every exposed inch of her body.
And Lone Arrow, who had swung back around, crept toward her. He said, “I have never known anyone to have more accidents than you.”
Was there humor in his voice? Yes, there was, but this time Carolyn did not object.
Indeed, grabbing a handful of mud and twig-filled dirt, she waited until he was close enough to her. Then she let him have it.
In reaction, he chuckled. And picking up a twig or two himself, he came down onto his haunches beside her, where he proceeded to drizzle them into her hair.
“Oh! Not the hair,” she said, reaching up to comb her fingers through her tresses. But it was useless. One by one, Lone Arrow kept dropping twigs and bits of dirt upon her.
“All right, all right,” she said. “I give up.”
“Give up what?” he asked, grinning at her. Then pulling his features into a straight face, he asked, “Do you give yourself up to me?”
“Hardly.”
“Does ‘hardly’ mean yes or no?”
“It means a very hardy no.”
“Éeh, I see. Then perhaps I should continue to shower you with sticks, maybe even some dirt until you do decide to become one with me.”
These were heady words, and staring up at him, she asked, “Do you really want that?”
He did not answer. Instead, he grabbed hold of her under the elbow and, helping her to her feet, he said, “Come, we will get too wet sitting here on the ground. There is a better place where we can say what we must to one another.”
Carolyn made no objection as he helped her to her feet, although she did notice that he appeared to take pains to keep from touching her.
“Come,” he said, releasing his hold on her, and with that, he turned away.
He guided her only a little way into the forest and soon they came upon a small clearing, where several large timbered pieces of wood littered the ground. In the distance were the familiar shapes of their horses, hobbled and munching the wild, mountain grasses. Closer were several large logs.
Upon reaching a particularly bulky one, he said, “Dihchisshih, rest here on this tree trunk.”
And she sat. As she settled herself into a comfortable position, he perched hims
elf upon the log as well, placing his legs over each side of it so that he was sitting facing her. Without further ceremony, he began, “There is much that we should say to one another. Let me begin by telling you a little about my people.”
She acknowledged him with a quick motion of her head.
And he paused. “The Absarokee are a tribe of clans. Did you know that?”
She shook her head.
“Ho! Now, biilápxe, the one who joined us this day,” he said, “as I have mentioned, is from my father’s clan. He is my father’s brother’s child.”
“I see,” she said. “Then he’s a cousin.”
“He is my father, or biilápxe,” he emphasized. “I think that the white man has a hard time understanding this kind of relationship. Some white people I have known have called these men by the name of clan uncles, and maybe we should call him this, so that you will be able to understand it better. Will that be easier for you?”
“I don’t know.” Carolyn frowned, trying to follow this line of thinking. But no matter how much easier he tried to make it for her, it was still difficult to grasp. She said, “We could try that. Perhaps calling your…ah…friend by the name of an uncle would be simpler for me.”
He nodded. “There is more that you should know about this, also. In the Absarokee tribe, a child always belongs to his mother’s clan. And to his mother’s clan a child must give nothing but respect to his fathers and mothers, or as you might think of them, clan uncles and aunts. It is believed that by doing this, by showing respect and fidelity in this way to his uncles and aunts, a person will be in better harmony with the rest of the tribe. And if a person is in harmony with his tribe, he will be better able to control his environment, and from that, all of life.”
Carolyn tilted her head to the side. “I see,” she said. “That’s interesting.”
He nodded. “But this is only how one treats a member of his mother’s clan. To his father’s clan, a child is expected to tease and to be teased by any member of it. And no matter what is said or done, a child is taught to endure it; to laugh, along with the others.”
“Goodness!” she said. “But what if the teasing is rough or crude? Like it was today?”
Lone Arrow raised his shoulders casually. “Our cultures—yours and mine—have some differences, I think, but try to understand. It is believed that it is a good thing to be able to brave anything. If a man can do this, he can live a life that is free. If he cannot or is unwilling to face anything, he will be haunted by shadows. And so it is in this way that a man, or a woman is expected to abide the jokes and the teasing of his father’s clan, no matter what is said, no matter what is done.”
“But—”
He held up his hand. “It is assumed that such teasing makes a person think, which makes him strong. It is also how a wayward child is taught the difference between what he should and should not do.”
“Oh,” was all she said.
“So you see,” he went on to say, “this joking relative is a very important part of Absarokee life.”
“All right,” she agreed. “I think I understand this. But let me be certain. Your father…ah, your uncle—or the one you call, biilápxe—is from your father’s clan?”
Lone Arrow flicked the index finger of his right hand down, twisting his hand at the same time, the sign for “yes.”
“My father, or biilápxe, was also making me think.”
“Making you think of me, is that it?”
“Perhaps.”
She bristled at the thought and said, “Not that we are truly married or anything, but was he trying to make you question why you would want to marry me?”
Lone Arrow shook his head. “Perhaps, but do not feel slighted. It is his way of ensuring that I consider consequences. He was making a point; trying to induce me to ponder, to think about whether I was marrying you only because you are white. And if this were true, he was trying to coax me into reflecting upon this a little more.”
“And were you only interested in marrying me because I am white?”
Lone Arrow did not hesitate so much as a second before he answered, “Baa-lee-táa, no.”
She let out her breath, unaware until she did so that she had been holding it. She asked, “What did your uncle mean when he said that you would have to explain yourself to your fathers and mothers? I’m assuming that means your aunts and uncles?”
Lone Arrow nodded.
“Will they be upset because you have married me?”
Lone Arrow faltered for a moment, as though he might be deliberating over something. Then, as though he had come to a decision, he said, “They might be angry at first, for they will not understand what I have done. But they will not keep anger in their hearts, not after they meet you.”
Carolyn bit her lip, glancing obliquely at him. She said, “I wouldn’t be so certain.”
“I am.”
She held her peace, but only for a moment before she observed, “This means, however, that you are expected to take a Crow wife?”
“Maybe several years ago, this might have been true,” said Lone Arrow, “but when I failed to find anyone I wished to marry, my aunts and uncles stopped asking me about it, stopped teasing me about it.”
“I see,” she said, then added, “But might they still expect you to marry someone from within the tribe?”
He nodded. “It is possible.”
“Hmmm…” she mumbled, resigned. “Then this is another reason why we should not—”
He held a finger to her lips, and dutifully, she let the rest of the sentence trail away.
But she did feel obliged to point out, “There would be disappointment.” It was no question.
“No, my aunts and uncles would come to understand, and they would be happy that I am happy.”
“Would they?” she asked, not really expecting an answer to the question. She crossed her arms over her chest, much as Lone Arrow was doing as he sat before her, and she went on to say, “There is one more thing.”
After a brief bob of his head, she continued, “What did your…ah, clan uncle mean when he said, ‘because of who you are, you will be expected to marry as determined’?”
Lone Arrow shrugged, but did not answer.
And she waited…in vain. At last, she asked, “Who are you?”
That made him smile. “You know who I am.”
She shook her head slowly, saying, “I do and I don’t.”
His face appeared unusually somber, and after a brief pause, he said, “I am the one who led you to the treasure cave once before; I am the same one who is doing so again. I am also the one who has been your husband.”
“I…I—”
“And I am also a man who misses the warmth of she who has been his wife. It has been my desire to hold this woman in my arms, at least one last time.”
These words, the intention behind them, sent a shudder racing over her. Did Lone Arrow have any idea what this sort of talk did to her?
However, the only response she made was to give him a look that she hoped appeared unconcerned. After a moment, she said, “Why did you tell your clan uncle that we were married?”
He hesitated. “Because,” he said, “at the time, it was true.”
“But it wasn’t,” she denied. “Hadn’t you told me that we could start again, perhaps have only a romance?”
He inclined his head.
“Well, if that were true, then why did you tell your clan uncle that I am your wife?”
“Because,” he answered, “until you give me your answer, that is exactly what you are.”
“Oh,” she said. She hadn’t thought of it in that way. “But I am not—”
“And I would like you to be that to me again.”
Whatever protest she had been about to utter, died on her lips.
What was happening to her? With those few simple words, her insides twisted, and she realized that her mouth was gaping open.
She took a deep breath and closed her mouth
. Had Lone Arrow had a change of heart? Is this what he meant?
She hesitated to ask, half afraid of the answer. Yet she wanted to know, and inwardly she debated over what to do. Finally, however, she questioned, “Lone Arrow, do…do you mean that you have changed your ideas about marriage? That you want only one wife?”
When he did not reply at once, she swallowed the knot in her throat. And just as easily as it had come, her optimism began to fade. Still, she waited.
And, after a time, he uttered, “Let me say this. I do not know why the First Maker has brought us together, for our ideas on life are too different, one to the other to be compatible. Still, we are connected in a manner that I do not understand. At first, I thought this was all there was to it…to whatever it is between us. Know that I have come to realize that there is more to what I feel for you than even this.”
Did he love her? Was this what he was saying?
But he was continuing to speak, and he said, “Know that I am no more than a man. And although I cannot tell you exactly what is in our future, I can promise you that I desire you at this moment. There is even more to it than this, for I wish you great happiness. Know also that it is I who aspires to be the one to provide this for you.”
“Do you?”
He inclined his head, adding, “Are these not the things that should draw two people together? Are these not the principles upon which a strong union is forged? We are lucky in many ways, I think, for some people never have even this.”
Carolyn paused, not moving so much as an inch. These were fine concepts, fine words he spouted, yes, and she had no quarrel with them. But, at the same time, she realized that he had skirted around the question most dear to her heart. Ultimately, she started to say, “But—”
“Ho!” He cut her off. “Regardless of what we think of each other’s notions of marriage, is this not enough for us to build a life together?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came to her.
Looking up, she cast him a quick glance as he sat before her. It wasn’t fair. The moon was painting him in shadows of grey and silver, and he looked too desirable, seemed too magnanimous. What was more, her convictions were becoming too bendable. It was as though the very forces of nature were conspiring against her.