Lone Arrow's Pride

by Karen Kay

  Had Lone Arrow not been so caught up in a passionate embrace with her, he would have seen the danger from the plants. What was irritating was that Pretty Moon, also, was well aware of this fact.

  Carolyn chanced another glance up at Pretty Moon, catching her friend’s grin. Shaking her head, Carolyn groaned.

  “White friend,” said Pretty Moon, “should not be…baa-wah-te…ah, sensitive to this. It is…good thing…when…husband forgets…everything else…but wife…” Pretty Moon said, still grinning.

  Carolyn tried to respond in kind. But, try as she might, she couldn’t quite muster an adequate smile.

  The point was moot though, for within moments Pretty Moon became serious. Leaning forward, she went on to caution once again, “White friend…should not…talk to…Running Coyote…alone.” She shook her head.

  Carolyn raised a brow. “Is there some other reason besides their different societies?”

  The question appeared to agitate Pretty Moon, for she began a series of difficult and confusing gestures, and so quick and erratic were they that Carolyn could not follow them. Finally, grabbing hold of the other woman’s hands, Carolyn shook her head. “Not so fast.”

  Pretty Moon gave a nod of agreement, and switching to English, she said, “Him…Running Coyote…have…bad…reputation. Him…belong to…War Club, ah…Lumpwood Society. Your husband…belong…Foxes.”

  “Yes,” said Carolyn. “So you have said. But I don’t understand what difference any of that makes.”

  “Much difference,” said Pretty Moon. “Lumpwoods and…Foxes make war…with…each other’s…women…their wives.”

  “Women? Wives? Make war?”

  Pretty Moon nodded.

  “I don’t understand. How do they do this?”

  “They…steal…wives.”

  Steal wives?

  “Custom…demands…a wife be…former…ak-hiik-she, lover, if she…be stolen. But…Running Coyote has…bad name. Him might…pretend…and try…steal you…anyway.”

  “But that’s silly. I simply wouldn’t go with him.”

  “Him…stronger. Could use…force. And if Running Coyote…” Pretty Moon continued, “steals you, can…never go back…to…Lone Arrow. Would…bring Lone Arrow…shame…take you…back.”

  “But—”

  “That why white friend…must stay…away…from Running Coyote.”

  “Yes, I understand that. But, what I don’t completely grasp is the threat,” said Carolyn. “Let’s go over this again, shall we?”

  Petty Moon nodded.

  “Now, the Lumpwoods are a society, is that right? As are the Foxes?”

  Another nod.

  “All right. They are rivals?”

  “What…this…rii-vel?”

  “Enemies, like opponents in a game?”

  “Ah,” said Pretty Moon. “Éeh, yes.”

  “And they steal each other’s wives, but only if that woman had once been a lover?”

  “Éeh, yes.”

  “And she must have been a lover to the man doing the stealing?”

  “That…right.”

  “But Lone Arrow knows that I have never been with another man, and it could easily be proven that the abduction was done by force, if it were to be done at all. So if that is the case, what is the danger?”

  “It…not…matter if…Lone Arrow…prove…you not…lovers. Running Coyote…could lie.”

  “But my husband would know that he’s lying.”

  “Rest of…tribe…not know. One man’s…word…against another. Lone Arrow…be disgraced. It…custom. An…honorable…and a good man…must not…take back…stolen wife. Would be…shamed.”

  “Even if—”

  Pretty Moon gave a quick incline of her head. “Even if…”

  “Oh,” said Carolyn. “That’s not good. Tell me, does this wife stealing happen often?”

  Pretty Moon nodded. “In…a-wa-siia, moon when…earth is…visible…ah…spring, it happen. But could…happen…hin-né baa-pé, this day. White friend…should have…care.”

  “Then you are right,” said Carolyn. “I should take every precaution to stay away from Running Coyote, and keep him at a distance, so long as he remains with us.”

  Pretty Moon inclined her head. “It-chi-kaa-she, very good. You remember…this one’s,” she pointed to herself, “words.”

  “I will.”

  Oh, dear. Her back itched again; itched to the point where she could not tolerate it, and reaching up behind her, she attempted to scratch it. However, as had happened before, Pretty Moon brushed Carolyn’s hand away.

  Pretty Moon said, “You tell…this one…when…you…itch. This one…rub in…medicine.”

  “All right,” agreed Carolyn. “What herbs are these that you are using? I should like to remember them.”

  “Them called…ah…root of…yellow dock. When we go in…woods, this one…show you.” And with this said, Pretty Moon applied a little more of the herbal poultice to the area, as she said, “Your husband…ah, baa-éh-chek…him wise.”

  Carolyn could only agree.

  “Him also…ah-pa-láax-iax-paa-liia…man-who-talks-with-god.”

  “He does what?”

  “Him…talk to god…of mountain. I tell you…this…for no man of…honor…ever speak of…own…deeds. Him…your husband…have…many good deeds.”

  This last, Carolyn could well understand. After all, hadn’t Lone Arrow played her hero eight and a half years ago? Wasn’t he even doing so now? But to speak to a god…

  “Do you mean that he prays?”

  “Like…all good Absarokee…people, him…pray to…First Maker. Heh-taá, but…that not…the god.”

  Carolyn was confused, and she said, as encouragingly as possible, “That’s not the god that he?…”

  “Speaks to.”

  “I see,” said Carolyn. “And do others talk to this god, also?”

  “Baa-lee-táa, no.”

  No? Carolyn frowned.

  “Like his…ak-saa-wa-cheé…his father, only he…talks to…god…of mountains.”

  The god of the mountains. Funny, both she and Lone Arrow had spoken of this being previously, but up until now, Carolyn had not thought to question him about it. Why hadn’t Lone Arrow told her that it was he, and he alone, who could communicate to a god?

  As though Pretty Moon read her thoughts, she repeated, “Honorable men…never speak…of own…deeds. Clan aunts and…uncles…be proud…of him…of you.”

  “Me?”

  Pretty Moon nodded.

  “Are you sure? I overheard Running Coyote say that my husband would have to explain himself to his people. That he would have to justify why he had chosen a white wife.”

  Pretty Moon snorted. “Do not…be…ii-waa-chí-sseek…anxious…about it. Anyone with…eyes…see you…bring Lone Arrow…baa-it-che…good things. They will…love you.”

  Carolyn smiled at her friend, and she could think of nothing else to say, except, “Thank you, but I think your faith in me might be misplaced.”

  Pretty Moon frowned. “What…this mean…misplaced?”

  “It means mistaken,” said Carolyn, but when Pretty Moon still appeared confused, Carolyn went on to say, “I should probably tell you that there is actually little danger of the clan aunts and uncles liking or disliking me. For you see, Lone Arrow and I are not really m-m…” Carolyn broke off on the last word, hesitant, as Lone Arrow had once cautioned, even to speak it.

  Meanwhile, Pretty Moon glanced at her expectantly.

  “Actually what I’m trying to say is that…well, it’s…it’s complicated.”

  “What means…com-pla-ca-ted?”

  Carolyn sighed. “Pretty Moon,” she said. “May I confide something in you?”

  “Con-fide? You mean…tell…ah, baa-aah-xua…secret?”

  “Yes,” said Carolyn. “A secret.”

  Pretty Moon gave a quick bob of her head.

  “The truth is…well, the truth is that Lone Arrow and
I have talked about our marriage, and we are uncertain that it is going to work out between us.”

  “Work out?”

  “Our…our ideas about marriage are too different to make a marriage between us an easy thing.”

  Pretty Moon furrowed her brow. “The white woman…thinks of…leaving Lone Arrow?”

  “I…I…”

  “What…are…differences…between you?”

  “Mostly his attitude about other women,” said Carolyn.

  “Add-i-tude?”

  “It means the way someone thinks about something. Truly, it is because Lone Arrow cannot promise me that he will remain faithful to me and only me that causes a problem.”

  “Lone Arrow wishes…other wife…so soon?”

  “No,” said Carolyn. “Not now. It’s only that he cannot promise me that he won’t take another wife in the future.”

  “It…his…right.”

  “But it is not his right in my society. I could never remain married to a man who might insist on having another wife…no matter how far off that might be in the future.”

  “But there…heap big work…so much…work for…woman. You…need help.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t matter. There are other reasons why I feel this way, good reasons. But I won’t bore you with them. Just know that I cannot make a marriage with a man who might take future wives.”

  “Hmmmm,” said Pretty Moon, appearing as though she were lost in thought. After a moment, she said, “There…some…Absarokee men…never take…more than…one wife.”

  “Yes,” said Carolyn, “I’m sure that there are. However, I could not risk that Lone Arrow might be one of them. Know that it would be a sacrilege to all I believe to remain married to a man who did this.”

  Again Pretty Moon nodded. “This one,” she said, pointing to herself, “need to…think. You…go pick…berries. Come, will show…you where are…berry bushes. Give this one…time…think.”

  “But—”

  “Come. Will show…you.”

  And Carolyn, realizing the futility of trying to argue, once Pretty Moon had set her mind to something, did as she was bid. But it was a hard thing to do. Particularly since she could think of little else but the things that she and Pretty Moon had discussed this day.

  And she wondered if it be true that Lone Arrow and Lone Arrow alone could speak to the god in the mountains, then he must be a person of some standing within his tribe, his clan.

  Moreover, because of who she was, would she be a hindrance to him? And if she were an encumbrance and he knew it, why did he keep insisting on marriage?

  Also, and perhaps most importantly, was there anything she could do to ease Lone Arrow’s burden?

  These were difficult things to comprehend, and shaking her head, as if to clear it, she made her path to the berry patch.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Did you manage to steal a pair of Running Coyote’s moccasins?” Speaking in Crow, Pretty Moon asked this of her husband.

  “They are here,” Big Elk said, reaching into a parfleche to draw out the buckskins. He handed them over to his wife, and said, “But I am not certain that I agree with what you are thinking of doing.”

  Pretty Moon, although obviously listening to her husband’s concern, did not share his viewpoint. Alas, she simply shook her head as she said, “Sometimes love needs a boost. His people are not here. Her people are not here. Is it not good to be that boost?”

  Big Elk did not reply. In truth, so much did he love his wife, he would have granted her most anything, even if he did not understand it. And so, to her unarguable wit, he merely gazed skyward and grimaced.

  Lone Arrow was glad to see the last of Running Coyote. He wanted no trouble from his clan father, particularly since he was well aware of Running Coyote’s reputation as a troublemaker.

  Luckily, Running Coyote had left their camp without need for persuasion, and as Lone Arrow trod back toward the lean-to, he experienced a feeling not unlike relief. Plus, he had another reason to feel merriment: he would soon see his wife again.

  The mere thought of this brought last night more vividly to mind, and it elicited a smile from him. Ah, the utter pleasure of it, the utter delight. For although the night had been filled with the culmination of the act of love, over and over again, there had been more. More love, more talk, more admiration.

  True, they had both awakened with red welts all over their bodies, but that was a small thing in comparison to what they had shared. And no amount of itching, due to the poison ivy bushes, could dull that which they had found together: each other.

  And so it was, that confidently, Lone Arrow strode into camp, immediately espying Pretty Moon and Big Elk. And he asked, “Where is my wife?”

  Sweetly, almost angelically, Pretty Moon answered, “My husband, would you tell your friend that his wife is picking berries next to the river.”

  Dutifully, Big Elk repeated, “She is picking berries next to—”

  “I heard,” he said. And without so much as a backward glance at his friends, Lone Arrow turned away from camp and headed toward the river. He had seen those berry bushes. He knew exactly where they were.

  Meanwhile, a pair of feminine eyes watched Lone Arrow disappear. Mischievously, she grinned.

  However, Big Elk observed, “My wife, you should have let me tell him what to expect.”

  “No, my husband. It is better this way.”

  Big Elk did not respond. Instead, he silently shook his head.

  Where was she?

  Lone Arrow examined the tracks left here, for evidence of what might have taken place. Had Carolyn encountered some wild animal? A bear? A mountain lion?

  There was no evidence of this. Here were her tracks, here were Pretty Moon’s.

  He followed their footprints in and out of the bushes.

  But wait! What was this?

  Here was another set of prints, although those tracks had been partially covered over with grass—as though someone tried to hide them.

  Running Coyote had been here.

  Lone Arrow’s gut twisted, the sensation anything but pleasant. Surely, Running Coyote would not attempt an abduction…

  Not here, not now. Running Coyote had left a short while ago. Lone Arrow had watched him go.

  But he must have circled back, Lone Arrow finished to himself.

  If it were possible to perish, due to surprise, he felt certain he might have done so at this moment.

  “Baa-lee-táa, no!”

  Except for the fact that Running Coyote was a Lumpwood and Lone Arrow a Fox, his clan father had no cause to attempt a wife snatching. Forget for the moment that The-girl-who-runs-with-bears had never been the sweetheart of Running Coyote. Forget also that she was undecided as to the state of their marriage.

  Would this stop Running Coyote? Not likely, he answered his own question. If only because Running Coyote might be able to get away with it.

  For one thing, only Lone Arrow would know the truth of his wife’s innocence. If put to the test, it would be one man’s word against the other. And although his relatives understood Running Coyote to be little more than a cheat and a scoundrel, an argument between the two of them—and over a woman—would create a spectacle, something from which neither man would recover.

  Forever, would his reputation be in tatters. Forever, would he be known as bian-ish-dat-tuua, a man dominated by a woman, a man of little honor, since custom, and a man’s own sense of dignity, demanded that if a wife were stolen, a gentleman would be civilized enough to let her go.

  But in his heart…

  No! He had only come to know his wife. He could not lose her now.

  Perhaps, he thought, if he were to follow them, in this single instance, he might be allowed to have her back without censure.

  Never. While there were many who might readily understand his plight, Lone Arrow would never be looked to again by the young, by the elders, or by anyone else in the tribe in a respectful way.


  Lone Arrow sank down upon the ground, examining the evidence of what was left behind. There had been no struggle. From these tracks, it would appear that his wife had left with Running Coyote of her own free will.

  Shutting his eyes, he felt the pain of his loss, and for a moment, he experienced a moment of indecision. All his life, he had been taught to bear the sufferings of life with charity, with no animosity or hatred. But as he stood here alone, within this grandiose mountain forest, Lone Arrow knew hatred.

  Never once, in his entire life had Lone Arrow been given cause to question the why of things, especially those aspects of life which dealt with matters of the heart. They simply were as they were.

  Yet he did so now.

  She was his. His.

  Damn the rules, Lone Arrow thought, using the English word, even to himself. And damn other people’s opinions. Running Coyote was not within his rights.

  Lone Arrow would go after his wife. He would retrieve her, right or wrong, custom or no custom. Those who mattered most would understand, and those who did not…he could not live his life in the shadow of other people’s opinions. Such was certain slavery. And, make no mistake, Lone Arrow was no slave.

  Ho! He would steal her back, and this time, no matter the consequences, he would ensure that she would never be given cause to leave him, or to wonder as to the state of their marriage, even if that meant that he would take no other wives.

  She had objected to the practice of polygamy, and in his ignorance Lone Arrow had failed to listen to her. Alas, so focused had he been on imposing his own will over her, he had failed to realize the importance of her perspective. Éeh, as she had once accused, he had been intent on changing her.

  Well, no more. He loved her, and that meant accepting her as she was, for who she was. And if that required that he marry only once in his lifetime, then so be it.

  Whatever the difficulties that might come, he would face them with her. For of one thing he was certain: Without Carolyn, his life would be no more than a dull shell of existence.

  Ho! Why had it taken a catastrophe to bring him to this understanding?

  Perhaps, he thought, because he had been so convinced of his own opinion in the matter. He cringed, shutting his eyes as full recognition came to him.