by Arlene James
“Hello, Man Father,” Rye said.
“Hello, Ryeland. Is this the woman who is rich in cows and owns a valley for them?”
“Yes, Man Father, it is. Her name is Kara.”
“I have heard of you,” Man Father said, without looking at her. “My grandson tells me you are more man than woman, but I think he is mistaken. He is, after all, only a child without knowledge of the world or his mother’s people.”
Kara didn’t know what to say to that, but Rye made a motion with his fingers as if to elicit something from her. She licked her lips and said the first thing that came into her head, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Man Father.” She winced at the mister. He merely nodded.
“Won’t you come into the circle and sit in the shade?”
“Thank you,” Rye said, stepping over the red circle. “What’s the significance of this, Man Father?”
“Protection,” Man Father answered succinctly.
Kara followed practically on Rye’s heels. They were shown to low drumlike seats beneath the shelter on the front of the nearest hut. Kara noted with some bemusement that her seat was lower than those of the men. Man Father sat with his forearms balanced atop his knees and studied Rye pointedly. Rye sat impassively, his palms resting flat upon his thighs. Finally Man Father spoke again, but this time his words were the clipped, singsong of the Chako language. Immediately, a tall, slender Chako woman emerged from the house. A quick glance at Rye’s twitching jaw muscles confirmed for Kara that this was Di’wana, and her heart dropped to her soles.
The woman was, to put it mildly, breathtaking. Her thick, blue-black hair hung almost to her waist, framing slender shoulders and a softly rounded face with full lips, a strong, straight nose and enormous, exotic eyes, brown-black and set in her head like almond-shaped onyx with the inside corners tilted slightly downward. The long-sleeved red tunic that she wore belted at an impossibly small waist over a full yellow and orange skirt did nothing to downplay the fullness of her breasts or the slender roundness of her hips. She wore the traditional moccasins laced to the knee beneath the ankle-length skirt, but Kara was certain that her legs were as long and shapely as the most successful fashion model’s. No wonder Rye couldn’t get over her! She was perfect.
Di’wana came forward, but no farther than Man Father’s back. “Hello, Ryeland. You are well?”
He nodded tersely, never lifting his gaze higher than Man Father’s face. Kara waited for him to ask for Champ, but he merely sat, his hands gripping his thighs hard enough to leave bruises. Finally Di’wana said, “I should introduce my husband to you,” and with that she turned and hurried back to the door of the hut Stepping back, she held aside the blanket covering the door. An extremely tall, broad man ducked through the opening and calmly walked across the packed dirt of the shelter floor and took a seat at Man Father’s side. He studied Rye for a moment, completely ignoring Kara. Then he stuck out his hand.
Rye seemed momentarily taken aback, but then his hand came out and gripped the other man’s. Di’wana glided forward and laid her hands on her husband’s shoulders, introducing him by one of the complex fourteen or fifteen syllable words in which the Chako seemed to delight. His smile showed white against his round, flat face, and he said, “You may call me Crow Brother.”
Rye withdrew his hand slowly. “Thank you.”
“Is this your woman, Ryeland Wagner, this pretty blonde?” Kara was surprised. He hadn’t seemed to notice her at all and did not move his gaze to her now. Rye seemed to be giving his reply inordinate thought. Finally he said, “She is my partner.”
Crow Brother nodded as if Rye had confirmed his assumption. “I owe you a debt, Ryeland Wagner. You took from us a willful girl with eyes for only the white man’s world and returned to me a fit Chako wife to make a husband proud. I regret the pain it caused you, but I am grateful, nonetheless.”
Kara could see that Rye was thoroughly stunned. His hands slid up and down his thighs, and though his gaze stayed glued to Crow Brother’s face, Kara knew that his mind was whizzing from one thought to another without quite making sense of any of them. Abruptly he said sarcastically, “Glad I could be of service. If I’d known I was on-the-job-training, I’d have tried a little harder.”
A small moaning sound made Kara look at Di’wana. She had a hand clamped over her mouth, but tears rolled down her face unimpeded. Kara surprised herself by wanting desperately to go to the other woman and put her arms around her. Crow Brother bowed his head, then looked up again. He looked at and spoke to Rye, but Kara had the feeling that he was speaking directly to her.
“She weeps not only for the pain she has caused but for the need to make her peace in this reality before the bad feelings can follow her to the next.”
Kara was confused, but Rye jerked as if he’d been poked. His spine stiffened, and for the first time his gaze actually switched briefly to his ex-wife. He turned deliberately to Man Father, whose face was frozen implacably. Man Father didn’t even return his gaze.
“H-has she seen a doctor?” Rye asked tightly, angrily. “A real doctor, I mean.”
Something flickered behind Man Father’s eyes. “Yes. Crow Brother would not let anything that might be of benefit go untried. I told him that it was no use, for I read the truth in the omens, but he is her husband and he treasures her.”
Rye gulped at that. He was shaking. Kara lifted a hand and laid it against the small of his back. He began taking deep, quick breaths. “How... Wh-what...”
Crow Brother calmly said, “She has a cancer in her brain that cannot be touched. It is a problem, a weakness, among our people. You should have your son checked from time to time. It isn’t that common, but—”
Suddenly Rye shot to his feet. “Where is Champ? Does he know?”
Kara felt her own tears spill over her cheeks. She didn’t remember standing with him, but she still had her hand on his back. Di’wana came forward then, her gaze targeting Rye, pleading with him.
“He understands,” she said breathlessly. Crow Brother rose and turned away, moving past her toward the door. Suddenly Rye gave a small cry and lifted his arms, and Di‘wana flew into them. Kara heard sobbing and only belatedly realized that it was her own. She saw Rye hug Di’wana and wondered how she ought to feel about that. She wondered how Crow Brother felt about it, but when she found him, he was standing at the doorway, holding aside the covering, and Champ was standing before him in traditional Chako garb, watching his father hug his mother, and Kara found that she couldn’t look at anyone else. Crow Brother gave the boy a little push, and Champ started forward with dragging feet, only to throw himself against his parents.
Rye sniffed and wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeves before pressing a hand to the boy’s back. He looked down and ruffled his son’s hair, saying, “I’ve missed you, cowpoke. You okay?”
Champ nodded against his father’s leg and turned up his face. “Missed you, too,” he said, “but I think I should stay here.”
Before Rye could reply, Di’wana went down on her knees and placed her hands at Champ’s waist. “Your place is with your father, especially now. I have always known it, and you must know it, too.”
“But I want to stay with you,” Champ said, winding his arms around her neck and hugging her.
“If you stay with me,” Di’wana said, “you will make it difficult for me to go through to the next world. Your sadness will follow me into it. Your father needs you, and you need him. I want to know you are together.”
Champ nodded reluctantly, lifted his head and wiped his eyes. He looked up at his father, explaining solemnly, “Man Father says dying is like going through a door to another world, and that she’ll be happy there if nothing bad from this one follows her.”
“Man Father is right,” Rye said. He switched his gaze to Di’wana’s face. “And now nothing bad will follow her.”
Di‘wana rose to her feet, subtly shifting Champ close to his father’s side. For the first time she looked quite pointedly at K
ara. She seemed to be trying to tell Kara something. Kara wasn’t quite certain what it was, but she nodded, anyway. Crow Brother came forward then and slipped an arm around Di’wana’s waist, pulling her back against him. She laid her head back against his shoulder, and a very visible contentment settled over her. She had made her peace with this world. Whatever unfinished business had been left between her and Rye, it was settled now. Kara could only hope that Rye would find that same peace soon.
Man Father had gotten to his feet. He bent and reached behind his seat, lifting a small bundle tied in Chako cloth. He handed the bundle to Champ, a slight smile curving his mouth. “I would like to see my grandson again one day before too long. He is of both worlds, white and Chako. He should know both.”
Rye nodded and said thickly, “You can send word to my brother Jesse. We’ll make arrangements to get Champ to you whenever you like.”
Man Father laid a hand on Rye’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said simply. “You must go now.”
“Yes.” Rye turned Champ toward the pickup. Kara fell in behind him. Man Father walked at Rye’s side, Champ between them. No one said a word, but as they drew near the red circle, Rye paused and looked back over his shoulder one last time. Di‘wana stood with her eyes closed, one hand against her husband’s neck, her cheek pressed to his, swaying gently side to side. Kara thought she hummed something soft and low, or was that Crow Brother? Slowly Di’wana’s eyes opened, and she smiled at them. Then her eyes drifted closed again in absolute serenity. Rye stared a moment longer, then he turned back and stepped over the red line of the circle. Champ crossed next to him and Kara right behind him, but Man Father stood on the other side.
“You will have your answer from the council tomorrow morning.”
Rye nodded and opened the door to the truck. Champ tossed his bundle inside, then turned to wave at his mother. Di‘wana waved back. Kara wasn’t sure, but she thought she caught the sheen of fresh tears in Di’wana’s eyes. She turned away, hurrying around to let herself into the truck on the passenger side. Man Father lifted a hand in farewell.
Rye slipped behind the wheel. He closed the door and reached for the ignition key. The old chief stood with his hands loose at his sides as Rye started the truck, put it in gear and backed it around. Champ got up on his knees to look out the back window as they pulled away.
“It wasn’t like I thought it’d be,” he said, and Kara saw Rye’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry about your mother.”
Champ nodded and turned around, sliding down into the seat. “Put on your seat belt,” Rye said, “both of you.”
Kara helped Champ buckle his belt and then buckled her own. Champ leaned his head against his father’s shoulder. After a while he said thoughtfully, “You’re not still mad at her, are you, Dad?”
Rye cleared his throat. “No, I’m not still mad at her.”
Champ nodded as if that answer was exactly what he’d expected and said, “I’m not, either.”
Rye lifted an arm and draped it around his son. Champ snuggled against him. Kara wanted desperately to put her arms around them both, but Champ’s past animosity stopped her. True, he seemed accepting enough of her presence at the moment, but it was almost as if he was unaware of her. Her hand wandered toward Rye’s where it rested on the seat next to Champ’s hip. To her immense gratification, as soon as her hand drew near, Rye grasped it. She closed her eyes and concentrated on pouring every ounce of her love into that hand. She felt his pain and confusion, felt his helplessness toward his son. There was nothing to say, nothing to do. All she had to give him, both of them, was what she felt. All she could do was love with her whole heart and hope that somehow it would help.
It was very late when Rye came to her. She woke from a restless, troubled sleep to find him crouched there beside her, his hand stroking her cheek. The moon had set. She couldn’t see his face in the heavy darkness, but she knew his expression, felt his deep need. She clutched his hand and said softly, “I thought you’d be staying at the house with Champ.”
“I thought so, too, but I couldn’t sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lifting her hand to his face. She felt his jaw flex as he swallowed and knew what he was going to ask.
“Will you come with me? You don’t have to. I shouldn’t even ask. I promised myself I wouldn’t, but—”
She pressed her fingertips over his mouth and sat up. He handed her boots to her. She pushed out of the sleeping bag and tugged them on, then stood and threw her arms around his neck as he came up beside her. He caught her to him, holding tight. “Oh, Kara!” he whispered.
“Shh!” She dipped down and caught up her sleeping bag with one hand. Together they slipped out of camp and into the shadows. They tossed the bag on the ground beneath a lone tree spreading its branches downslope of the big gray barn nearest the house. The ground had been beaten by countless feet, hooves and tires to a soft powder. Kara sat down on the sleeping bag and pulled Rye down beside her. He pulled her head onto his shoulder and for a long while simply sat there with his arms around her.
“It’s so strange,” he said. “I’ve hated Di’wana for so long, literally hated her. I don’t have an explanation for the grief I feel now.”
“Sometimes hate is just another side of love, Rye. You loved each other. You hurt each other. You hated each other. Now you have to make your peace, and I think it’s understandable that you’d suffer some grief in doing so, even if she wasn’t ill.”
“I can’t believe she’s dying,” he said, his voice thick. “Some part of me wants to believe it’s a lie, but I know it’s not.”
“How is Champ?” she asked after a moment.
Rye sighed. “I don’t know. He seems to understand, and he seems to have come to terms with everything, but I can’t help wishing they’d given me some choice in what he would be told and when.”
She nodded. “He’s your son, after all.”
“Yes, but hers, too.”
He lay back on the narrow sleeping bag, pulling her down on top of him. She kissed his chin and tucked her head beneath it. “Can I ask you a question?”
“If you want. Can’t promise I’ll be able to answer it.”
“Wasn’t there a time when it was good between you and Di’wana? Can’t you concentrate on that now?”
“Not really,” he said after a time. “I think we were both disappointed from the very beginning.”
She folded her arms across his chest and parked her chin on them. “What do you mean?”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “Frankly, I thought—because of her looks, I guess—that she’d be the hottest thing that ever crawled into my bed. But she wasn’t.”
Kara slid off him and sat up. “You’re telling me that you were disappointed in the sex?”
“It wasn’t just that,” he said, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his elbow, “but it was part of it. For her, too. Somehow it was...embarrassing.” He sat up suddenly. “Holy heavens! She was my wife, for pity’s sake. Making love to her was like...making love to my sister!” He said it with disgust. “We both knew we’d made a mistake, but we were stuck. She’d given up her family, her people, to go with me. I couldn’t just send her back, so I made up my mind to make it work. I had lots of opportunities out on the road to cheat, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”
“So eventually she was the one to cheat,” Kara said softly, “and set you both free.”
His head jerked up. “I h-hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she said. “You were committed to making the marriage work, however reluctantly. She took that decision out of your hands by making it impossible for you to stay together. It must have seemed to you that she threw your best efforts back in your face.”
“That’s exactly how it seemed,” he said absently.
Kara folded her legs into a more comfortable position. “I think you wanted to make he
r happy, Rye,” she told him, “and you thought the only way to do that was to marry her, but you were never meant to marry.”
“It’s funny, isn’t it? We were both so convinced back then that she could never be happy as a traditional Chako, but that’s exactly what it took.”
“Be glad she found out before it was too late—for both your sakes.”
He nodded, and his hand stole up her arm to her shoulder and down again, brushing her breasts. “I thought it would be with her,” he said softly, “the way it is with you.”
Kara smiled, her breath catching in her throat. “How is it with me, Rye?”
His hand moved upward again to her face and into her hair. “Magic,” he said. “White-hot magic.”
She tilted her head, trapping his hand between her ear and her shoulder. She kissed the inside of his wrist.
“I shouldn’t have started with you, Kara,” he said. “I don’t know how to stop now.”
“Don’t think about it,” she whispered. “Just let me love you.”
He bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers. As one they rocked up onto their knees and began undressing each other between kisses both quick and lingering. A long while later they lay entwined inside the single sleeping bag, each aware that this loving was different. This time they had each received as much as given, taking what was needed, offering the same, until both were satisfied, filled, soothed.
Rye kissed the top of her head. “I have to get back to the house before Champ wakes.”
She nodded. “I should get back to camp, too.”
“I wish I knew what to expect of Champ right now. He’s had a huge shock. He’s gotten to know his mother and lost her in the space of a few days. I can’t quite make sense of any of this myself yet, so how can I expect him to?”
“I know.” She hugged him, then determinedly sat up. She wasn’t going to think that this might be their last time together. She’d thought that before. No use going through that again. She reached for her clothes. He folded his hands beneath his head and watched her.