Lone Arrow's Pride

by Karen Kay

  He had always loved her, had never stopped loving her. It was a bond which, once forged, had never been broken. Not in eight and a half years.

  Sitting upon a large log, which had fallen across the stream, Carolyn pulled up her skirt so that she could dangle her feet in the frosty water and wash them.

  Oh! It was cold!

  Uttering a soft, yet delightful squeal, she pulled her feet up out of the water and tucked them beneath the folds of her skirt. She supposed that was enough to clean them.

  And they had been quite dirty. Rain had muddied the ground around the berry bushes, and as a result, both her feet and her shoes were filthy.

  Taking hold of her slippers and bending down toward the stream, Carolyn let the gushing water clean her shoes, as well, and hoped they would dry quickly.

  She really should get up, she thought, and gather her bag full of berries, which she had left on the shoreline. The others might be looking for her. Even so, she could not resist a final look at the scene before her. As she sat upon the log, she had a bird’s-eye view of the stream which babbled and rushed away from her.

  It inspired within her a feeling of peace and tranquility, perhaps even a feeling of loving and being loved.

  Ah! She smiled as memories of the previous night flooded her mind. What a night she and Lone Arrow had shared. And although she’d had little more than a few hours sleep, due to the heat of the moment, she felt refreshed.

  With anticipation, yet dread, she wondered—Was there hope for them? Would he ever understand her? Or perhaps more importantly, would he ever accept her?

  Wasn’t that all that stood between them and a lifetime together? It would be a shame if they could not settle this matter between them.

  However, Carolyn was not blind to the fact that for another woman, there might have been other, bigger obstacles. Alas, for another person, the fact that Lone Arrow was Indian and she, white, would have been a barrier of insurmountable odds. But not so for Carolyn.

  She had no qualms about becoming part of Lone Arrow’s life, or in joining his tribe. In truth, it was what she had hoped for when she had been eleven years old. And now?

  If she were honest, she would admit that ever since his daring rescue, all those years ago, Lone Arrow had never been far out of her mind. And as hard as she’d tried to start her life without him, she had always come back to this one conclusion: she was connected to Lone Arrow.

  Call it spiritual, call it whatever one pleased, it was an inescapable fact. He was a part of her life.

  And if they could not overcome this hurdle?

  Carolyn shook her head. She dare not even contemplate the possibility. Somehow, the two of them would resolve it. They must.

  A noise caught her attention. Had something shuffled in the bushes? Casting a quick glance back in the direction she had come, Carolyn was surprised to see Lone Arrow.

  What was he doing here? Squatting down upon the ground, his attention appeared to be centered upon something there, and it was obvious that he was unaware of her presence here.

  She should call out to him, she thought. And she would do so…eventually. But it was a rare occasion when she had the opportunity to study this man unobserved.

  Lone Arrow was worried, that much was evident. She could see it, there, in the tilt of his head, the stiffness with which he held himself.

  What was he doing? He looked to be examining something, perhaps some tracks? Yes, she could see the imprints from here.

  She watched him carefully, watched as he placed a hand upon one of those tracks. And then, gently, with so very much care, he stroked the ground there, as though it were a living being. And then, before her eyes, she saw him bring those same fingers to his lips.

  They were her tracks.

  Watching him, knowing what he did, Carolyn felt as though something inside her burst to life. And without another moment’s pause, she called out, “They are but mere tracks. If you will turn your head, you will see the real thing.”

  Lone Arrow glanced up, his gaze catching hers. And there, within the heightened beat of a moment, they became aware of one another.

  Carolyn rose to her feet.

  He did not say a word. Instead, he stared at her as though he might be scrutinizing a ghost. At length, however, he muttered, “You are here.”

  “I am here.”

  She watched as Lone Arrow swallowed hard, watched as he paced a step toward her. He said, “I thought he had stolen you away from me.”

  “He?”

  “My clan father, Running Coyote.”

  “Hasn’t he left our camp?”

  Lone Arrow tread another pace toward her. “I thought that he had but here I see his footprints—next to yours.”

  “But”—Carolyn placed a careful step upon the log, balancing herself precariously. Cautiously, she scooted forward a pace—“but Running Coyote has not been here.”

  “Yet I see his tracks.”

  Carolyn shrugged. “I cannot help that. I can only tell you that he is not here. He was never here.”

  Lone Arrow shrugged. “It does not matter. It is only important that you are here, unharmed. Careful,” he said, when she almost lost her balance. “Here, let me help you from that log.” He hurried toward her.

  But it was too late.

  The log had moved, it must have jolted, for it threw her off balance. And caught in the act of swinging her arms, she knew she was going to fall a second before the fact of it. And true to her instinct, she plunged butt first in the icy stream.

  “Oh!” She came up shivering. The stream was only knee-deep and she was quite unhurt, and in absolutely no danger of drowning, but the Good Lord be blessed, falling in this water was like dipping into ice. She was freezing.

  Lone Arrow waded out to her. “Come,” he placed an arm around her shoulders. “My robe is on the side of this stream. I will wrap you in it.”

  She tried to nod, but her teeth were chattering so furiously, she could not even respond.

  “Come.”

  And Carolyn did as he bade, practically throwing herself into the warmth of that robe.

  As he sat her up, wiping the water from her and fixing the robe around her shoulders, he chuckled. “I have never known a person to have so many misadventures,” he said. “When we reach my people, I will have to ensure that I never leave your side for very long, so that I will know you are safe.”

  “Perhaps one of your wives could have that responsibility,” said Carolyn, mayhap with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

  “Humph!” Lone Arrow replied. Then, as though the words were each one gilded in gold, he said, “I have decided that you are right.”

  “Right?” Carolyn asked. “About what?”

  “It has come to me that I have been foolish.”

  “Foolish?”

  He nodded. “I have been thinking only of myself, and not listening to you and what was important to you.”

  Carolyn gave him what must have been a strange look, and she said, “You have?”

  “Éeh, I have. Know that I have realized that for us to make a happy marriage, I must be willing to change my mind sometimes. At least about things that are important to you. It did not occur to me until a short while ago that my foolishness could have lost you to me forever.”

  “And that would make a difference to you?” she asked, barely daring to hear his answer.

  He nodded. “You must know that this would make much difference to me.”

  “Would it?”

  Inclining his head, he acknowledged her, and said, “You were right. I have been trying to change you. It is strange because I have always loved you exactly as you are. Why I desired you to be different, I do not know, except that perhaps, unwisely, I thought it would make me more of a man.”

  Wide-eyed, Carolyn stared at him.

  And he continued, “I have come to see that our life together, its strength and happiness, is not dependent upon whether you can fit into the image I have envisioned, but
whether I can make you as content as you make me.”

  Carolyn shut her eyes, taking a deep breath.

  He said, “And so I will take no other wife. I vow this to you.”

  She opened her eyes, staring at him. And though she would have liked to say something, her voice did not work.

  But it did not matter. Lone Arrow was continuing, and he said, “If it is important to you, then it is important to me.”

  At last she found her voice, but all she was able to utter was, “Lone Arrow, I…I…” She dropped the robe and threw her arms around him.

  And he pulled her into his embrace as though he might not ever let her go. “Know that from this day forward, what happens to us will be met by the two of us, together. It is a new start for us.”

  “A new start,” she reiterated. “Yes, I like the sound of that. And I promise you,” she added, “I will make you a good wife.”

  He grinned. And as he gathered his robe from around her, and as he placed it over the ground, he said, “There is no cause for you to promise this, for I know that you will.”

  And with nothing else to be said for the moment, he positioned her onto that robe, where he began to show her how utterly certain he was of this…

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Amazingly enough, the mountain over which they traversed was familiar to Carolyn. In the distance was a rock formation; over there were a few trees surrounding a green meadow. They were all known to her.

  This was good. It had to mean that she and Lone Arrow were close to the cave.

  Of course, there were other things that would indicate this, the most pronounced of them being that it was only the two of them traveling together. Earlier in the day, she and Lone Arrow had said their farewells to Big Elk and Pretty Moon.

  Parting had been a difficult thing for both of the women. And only the knowledge that they would soon see one another again had allowed them to part.

  Still, it had not been a completely sorrowful occasion, since their separation meant that Carolyn was that much closer to her destination.

  She fidgeted uneasily, contemplating that thought. This was the end of the journey. And while this was a happy occasion, for it meant the beginning of a new life—for her, for her parents, for Lone Arrow—it came with caution.

  How was she going to get the cross, which still remained in her pocket, into the cave? That is, how was she going to do it if she were to go to the cave blindfolded, as well as naked?

  Perhaps she should ask Lone Arrow about that. So many things had changed between them. Maybe he had altered his way of thinking about that, too.

  Should she ask? She should, of course. She was, however, more than a little leery of doing that.

  But why not? If it were true that he trusted her, did that not also mean that he might allow her to go to the cave dressed as she was? Or, perhaps a more important question was, did she deserve that trust?

  Despite Lone Arrow’s confession to her, she had not confided in him. The truth was, that she had almost forgotten the real reason she had begun this excursion. Sad, but true.

  She had fallen in love on this journey, and that circumstance had outshone all else, even her worries about her parents’ affairs. But that did not mean that their plight was forgotten.

  Not in the least.

  Still, he had been honest with her. Should she be as open with him?

  And what if she were honest and he decided to take the burden of the cross upon himself? He might try to do it. However, Carolyn was uncertain that Lone Arrow could make restitution for her.

  Then why do it? They were almost there. Surely she could wait a few more hours before unleashing the burden of her soul.

  It would be best; best then, if she simply kept the knowledge to herself. However, she had better discover his intent.

  And so she called out, “Lone Arrow.”

  He was leading his black and white-spotted Appaloosa, A-la-pee, behind him, up through the mountain trail. It was an entirely typical yet, at the same time, strange sight to witness. Strange, for master and pony seemed to move as one, together.

  Carolyn knew that Lone Arrow showered affection upon this mare. A war pony, A-la-pee was never hobbled or tied far away from her master. Often painted, as though Lone Arrow anticipated battle at any time, A-la-pee seemed to wear those marks much like a badge.

  Lone Arrow had once told Carolyn that the circle around A-la-pee’s eye granted her good vision; the hail marks on her behind were to empower her with the vigor of a hailstorm. And the eagle feather, braided into her tail, afforded her swiftness of foot.

  Lone Arrow had also once confided that A-la-pee was probably his best friend. Observing them together, Carolyn could understand why.

  “Lone Arrow,” she called again.

  He paused, looking at her from over his shoulder.

  And she began, “Might I ask you a question?”

  He nodded.

  And she said, “I wondered if you still intend to blindfold me when we go to the cave.”

  “I must,” he said with a shrug. “It is a place that is sacred to our people, and I cannot let you see the way there.”

  “But I have already been there; I saw it once before. What difference would it make now?”

  “A great difference,” he explained. “When you were young, there was no other way to save you. I did what I had to do. But that does not mean that now, when I have the choice, I should not follow the teachings of my father. Except for my father and myself, as well as his fathers before him, you are the only other person who has gone to that cave. And so, you will go there blindfolded, I think.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “But will I also have to go there without any clothes?”

  Lone Arrow did not answer at once. Instead, he began picking his way downhill.

  And Carolyn waited, following his lead, guiding her own pony by its reins.

  At last, they came to a grassy knoll, and Lone Arrow turned toward her. He said, “It would be worthwhile to see you naked, upon your pony, and for that reason alone I might make you do it.” These words were accompanied by a cheeky sort of grin.

  In response, Carolyn felt herself grow warm.

  “But,” he continued, “I must think on this last, for my mind is crowded on it. When I made this condition, there were reasons for it. Some of those reasons no longer exist. I will ponder it, and when I reach a decision, I will tell you.”

  “All right,” said Carolyn, and having no other choice in the matter, at least not at this moment, she let the subject drop.

  By that evening, Carolyn had reached her own conclusion. She was going to plant the cross upon Lone Arrow’s person. She simply had no choice.

  He had still not given her his determination, and she could not wait a moment longer. Especially when there was every possibility that they would reach the cave on the morrow.

  But where to put it? Where could she plant it, so that she would be assured that, even if she were naked, the cross would be carried into the cave? It would have to be a place out of view, so that Lone Arrow would not realize that he had the thing upon him.

  She studied him. She could not very well tie it to his shirt. He would find it. Neither could she attach it to his robe.

  Watching him from across their campfire, she tried to envision him as he might dress for this occasion. What did he always wear?

  Moccasins, leggings, breechcloth, shirt and robe. Feathers, hair ornaments. Could she tie it to one of those—perhaps in back of his head?

  No, when he went to sleep he removed these things. He might find it.

  Then where? What else did he always have upon his person?

  A knife, his bow, his lance, his quiver and bow case. His quiver?…

  It was perfect. What could be simpler? She would not even have to worry about attaching it. She could simply drop it into the case.

  It was wonderful.

  Tonight, she would wait until he was asleep.

  In the end, he
r worry had been for nothing. Lone Arrow had decided that he trusted her…she remained clothed.

  It was good. It was an affirmation of his faith in her; yet she could not help but feel annoyed. All that wasted effort, and he had the cross, not she.

  At present, she rode her pony, while Lone Arrow led it, plus his own mount.

  And though the sun beat down its rays upon the top of her head, it was not enough to warm her. It did, however, serve to remind her that she and Lone Arrow were traveling in the light of day. While a seemingly mild observation, it was significant.

  It meant that they must have entered into an area where Lone Arrow felt secure against the threat of a war party. Plus, due to the lack of shade, Carolyn was able to discern that they were traveling at a very high altitude, above the tree line. It was either that, or they were in a very large meadow.

  Earlier this morning, before the sun had yet made its way into the sky, Lone Arrow had tied a piece of soft deerskin over her eyes. And though she had thought she might protest its presence upon her, he had left her hands entirely free.

  In such a way, he had made it known to her that she was on her honor. And she swore she would not disappoint him.

  Soon after covering her eyes, he had lifted her upon her pony, and they had left camp.

  So far, the way had been uphill, stony and steep. That is, it must have been uphill if the movement and the position of the pony beneath her was any indication. Plus, she could feel her pony picking its way carefully.

  She called out to Lone Arrow, “Are we almost there?”

  “Soon,” he replied. “Soon.”

  Carolyn bit her lip in consternation. She had been asking the same question throughout most of the morning, and had been receiving the same reply in return. Meanwhile, frigid, cold air kept blasting her, whisking her hair back from her face, and seeming to find its way into every pore of her skin.

  Finally, Lone Arrow stopped. Carolyn waited.

  She sensed that he had come to stand before her. Not because she had heard him move, and she certainly could not see him. No, it was more a matter of simply knowing he was there.