by Karen Kay
“Yes,” she motioned back. “Do you wish me to say it back?”
He gazed down at her for several moments. And because he did not feel it necessary to hide his feelings, admiration and love warmed his eyes. His glance at her was as sweet as a caress.
“No,” he said at last. “I like where your hands are now better. Come here.” He clasped her to him. He nestled her head against his shoulder and rubbed her back as though she still weren’t close enough. “I do not know how I am going to make it through these next few weeks,” he said in Lakota. “For I love you truly and I wish to give you all of me.” He smiled and set her slightly away from him. “We have much to do, you and I,” he signed before her eyes.
Kristina stared at him blankly.
“You would not wish to meet my people without any knowledge of our ways, would you?” he asked in sign. “We must work quickly. I wish to teach you my language and I will learn yours. You have no suitable clothing for our outdoor life, nor are you skilled in the tanning of hides. I must teach you to survive on the prairie by yourself, if necessary, so you will learn to hunt and to swim. I cannot risk your life upon the river otherwise. If you were ever swept away, you would drown. I fear, my wife, that we have much to do.”
“You speak as though you expect me to return to your village. Have you not understood all that I have said? We are not truly married in the eyes of my church.”
“Where can we find this church? We will marry there, then.”
“I… Tahiska… We can’t. Didn’t we divorce? Besides, there is too much…”
“When I leave here to return to my own country, will you come with me?”
Kristina felt him tense beneath her fingers.
“I don’t know. I…”
He gathered her hands in one of his own before she could finish. “I do not wish to know more,” he spoke to her. “Perhaps one day you will come to me.”
Kristina gazed at him in fascination. She didn’t know what he’d said, yet she knew it was affectionate.
“I will look for you here tomorrow,” he signed.
“I will try. Much depends on Julia.”
“Must she ride out with you again?” he rotated his right hand.
“My father will no longer allow me to ride upon the prairie by myself. Since I told him my pony tripped he insists I be accompanied.”
“I understand.” Tahiska grinned. “I fear I have alarmed her. I mistook her intentions. I believed you did not wish to speak with me alone.”
Kristina laughed. “Perhaps it would do you well in the future if you could smile at her and not scowl as though you would admire her scalp upon your belt.”
Tahiska peered at Kristina, then grinning, his laughter joined that of his wife’s.
There was no mistaking the sounds of laughter. Julia shifted uneasily and gaped at the two Indians.
She hadn’t known Indians laughed. The Indians of her acquaintance never smiled; never once in her years at the fort had she seen one of them chuckle. If she thought of the Indian at all, she thought of a dour figure stoically reserved and often given to frowning.
Yet Wahtapah had grinned at her and Tahiska’s laughter sounded merry and infectious.
Julia pretended to look elsewhere, but under the shadow of her lashes she studied the two Indians before her. Both were young, tall, and could be considered to be handsome. Yet there was a wildness about them in the way they dressed, in the way they carried themselves, and in their style of life. Never, she decided, would she be attracted to an Indian.
Neeheeowee glanced up to catch Julia’s stare. His gaze pierced into hers and Julia, disconcerted, quickly looked away.
Neeheeowee continued to glower at the white woman long after she glanced away. Wahtapah caught the grimace of his friend and smiling secretly, bent his head to his chores.
“Never again!”
“But, Julia, you came to no harm.”
Julia rolled her eyes at her friend. They were both acting as clerks at the trading center. Though it was still morning, the summer sun shone brightly outside, clamoring and calling for attention. And with such competition, they found themselves alone inside the center.
“Yesterday I came to no harm because I was lucky.” She dusted some preserve jars on a shelf as she spoke, her back to Kristina. “Daniel Boone once said, ‘Beware the Indian, kind or unkind,’ and he lost family to the savages. I told myself that if I ever lived through that day, I would never, never let you talk me into seeing those Indians again. And here I stand in one piece and I intend to remain this way. You can see them all you want. Leave me out of it.”
“I see.” Kristina’s voice was wistful. “Did he really say that? Daniel Boone?”
Julia nodded.
“Then I guess I couldn’t entice you to come plum picking with me?”
“Plum picking?” Julia eyed her companion suspiciously. “Just that? No Indians?”
“Couldn’t we just visit them, if we’re at all close to their camp?”
“Kristina! One doesn’t just ‘drop in’ on Indians.”
“He has asked to see me.”
Julia set her feather duster aside. She took a deep breath and turned back toward her friend. “If I take you there, it is as though I condone your relationship, and I don’t.” Julia swallowed convulsively. “Kristina, as you said, it’s not as though you are truly married. There have been no vows spoken, no minister to witness your devotion, no marriage certificate. Do you wish me to witness your affair?”
Kristina recoiled as though slapped. A delicate pink stained her cheeks.
“Do you gossip about me then?”
“Of course not!” Julia stepped forward a pace. She hesitated, then turned her back to her friend. “Kristina, he is Indian,” she said over her shoulder. “Someone has to tell you these things. You are gambling with your future. When I see you together, there’s a peace and harmony about you both that is…almost beautiful. I am afraid if you spend more time in his presence, we will lose you.”
“I love him.”
“I know.” Julia spun around to face her friend. “You say you are not married, yet I see more here than I think you care to admit. I believe you are flirting with danger, Kristina. Break the ties now, while the romance is still young. Allow yourselves the chance to find someone else within your own race.”
“And if there is no one else?”
Julia hesitated. “Nonsense!”
Kristina stared at her friend, her glance steady and direct.
Julia was silent. And in that glance, they formed an understanding. They both knew. They both grasped at what remained unsaid. What was between Kristina and the Indian was more than a burgeoning romance. It was love, as fragile as a drop of dew on a rose, as trusting as a flower opening its petals to the sun, as beautiful as the loyalty between friends.
Julia sighed, and with little movement, leaned her weight against the shelf. She said nothing, merely placing her hand against her forehead. She was quiet a long while. “All right,” she stated at length. “I will help you, though I do so against my better judgment. But I warn you, Kristina, I do not like these people; I believe they are savages and I will keep my distance. I do not want them talking to me and I will not acknowledge them. You must let them know of my displeasure.” She leaned away from the shelf, and spinning around, glared at her friend. “I do this only for you, Kristina. I will help you again, but I do not like it.” She picked up the front of her skirt, and without another word to Kristina, rushed from the room.
Kristina watched her friend hurry towards the livery. Once Julia turned around and Kristina could have sworn that there was sympathy in that gaze. But it was quickly gone and Julia hurried away.
Kristina felt the wetness in her eyes and brushed a hand across her brow in an attempt to lighten her mood. She knew Julia’s reaction was mild in comparison to what she could expect from others. That didn’t, however, make the message any less hurtful, nor her situation any more comfortable.
She gulped, finding her breathing unsteady and her hands shaking. Had she been wise to confide in Julia?
As Kristina turned to start the lengthy process of closing shop, she was struck with a singular, spectacular fact. Julia believed them bound. By what? Not by marriage, she had made that plain. What then? Love?
Kristina gasped. Had love already changed her life? She closed her eyes and sighing, decided to think of other things.
Kristina recoiled, dropping the bone needle, buckskin, and thread. “What…what did you say this was?” She motioned toward the thread.
Tahiska indicated his spine, making the sign for buffalo at the same time.
“It’s what? Buffalo sinew?” Kristina couldn’t control the shudder of disgust. She tried to cover it over, tried to smile, but her attempts were useless. Wiping her hands on her dress, she wished for some good cotton thread, rope—anything but buffalo sinew.
Tahiska regarded her with astonishment. If not sinew, what did the white man use for sewing? He asked her this in sign.
“We use…cotton,” she said aloud, then signed. “It is something we gather from a plant.”
“A plant, like the tall grasses? How can it be strong enough? Have you never noticed how grass bends with the wind? How easily it is cut? Perhaps because the white man builds his houses from wood, he doesn’t know the value of this thread.”
Kristina regarded the distasteful lengths of sinew. “We have thread that is just as strong. I will bring some tomorrow.” She cast a quick look toward Julia, who still lingered near the horses. “If I can, I will bring some then.”
Tahiska nodded, his gaze following Kristina’s. He glanced back at Kristina. “Your friend does not approve of us. Is it this which troubles you? It will be hard for you if she does not accompany you.”
Kristina shot a startled glance to her husband. Their gazes met, held. He knew, his glance conveying an understanding she was far from feeling or appreciating. “Your friend’s reaction,” he said in Lakota, “is only the first of many. You must be brave.”
“What did you say?” she asked in sign.
“I said,” he gestured back, “that you are beautiful and if you can’t come here, I will have to visit the fort. I feel that I must see you every day or burst.”
Kristina smiled, but Tahiska’s gaze fell to his friends who, busy with camp chores, pretended not to see, nor to hear.
Tahiska rose lightly to his feet.
“Leci u wo,” he said over his shoulder, already strolling away at a steady gait.
Kristina needed no translation. She struggled to her feet and, lifting her skirts, ran after him.
Wahtapah glanced toward Julia. She had lingered near the horses in the heat of the sun for a long time and was even now close by, though she had wandered further away.
“You must keep an eye on the white woman.”
“Me?” Neeheeowee pointed to himself. “If you worry, then watch her yourself.”
Wahtapah shrugged. He glanced toward Julia. “She wanders. She is our guest. Would you have our guest come to harm? Have you noticed she is headed toward the deserted prairie dog town? Perhaps she knows the dangers. Perhaps not.”
“If she is silly enough to go there, why should I care?”
Wahtapah didn’t answer. Instead he bent over the arrowhead he was polishing. At length he looked up, then said, “She is our guest. How could we allow her to come to harm? Being white, she may not know the danger.”
Neeheeowee grunted. Nonetheless, grabbing his bow and quiver filled with arrows, he rose to his feet. With a final grimace at his friend, he quickly left the camp.
Julia watched Kristina follow Tahiska from the camp. Tahiska… Kristina’s husband… Were they truly married? Man and wife…
Julia sighed, looking heavenbound. Had she been wrong to escort her friend to this place? Julia shivered.
She needed to have a long talk with Kristina, but somehow she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Whenever she tried, it came out as a lecture or a condescension which Julia felt certain would only strengthen Kristina’s cause.
But what Julia couldn’t understand was Kristina’s fascination with these people. Of course, Julia admitted that at first even she had been curious about the wild Indian. But unlike Kristina, she was not intrigued. Within Julia’s memories were stories of massacres, betrayals, outright savage cruelty. A shiver of fear flickered over Julia’s spine. She remembered one necklace she had seen here in the fort, an Indian necklace made of human fingers and beads, and in the center had hung a human heart.
Julia glanced quickly at the two Indians remaining in camp. Was she safe? Neither of them looked at her, paid her any attention, but one could never be certain. Did they even now plot to take her scalp? Rape her?
Savages!
Julia spun around, gnawing on her clenched fist, trying to hold back the cry. Instead, she released small whimpering sounds, at the same time casting her vision out over the prairie. Where could she go? A soft wind, the kind that blows incessantly over the plains, tugged at her coiffure, releasing small wisps of hair from their confinement. There were few hiding places upon the vast plains. No matter where she went, they would find her. Besides, weren’t Indians notoriously excellent trackers? But if she were out of sight, perhaps they would forget about her.
She scanned both her mount and Kristina’s, and satisfied that they were securely tethered, she roamed away, slowly, so as not to draw attention to herself. She wouldn’t wander far, just over the hill, out of sight.
She meandered away, seemingly purposeless, until, on the other side of the hill, she picked up her skirts and ran. But no one followed and, her heart pounding, she slowed her pace. She had come upon a soft, grassy area abundantly strewn with beautiful wildflowers. The lush grasses bent toward her in the gentle breeze and it occurred to Julia that such a place would make wonderful grazing for the animals. Suddenly she heard the hissing. All conscious thought stopped.
Fear swamped her. She knew that sound. A rattler.
She swung a glance over her shoulder. The snake poised coiled, ready to strike. Where had it come from?
Julia screamed. At that exact moment an arrow whizzed by, narrowly missing her, but hitting the snake.
Indians! For a moment Julia wasn’t sure which was the worse enemy, the snake or the Indian. The snake appeared to be alive still, its tail rattling, its head poised. Had the Indians intended only to anger it?
A whir, a loud thump, another arrow struck it.
The creature toppled over and the Indian suddenly appeared on the edge of her vision, whooping, screaming, running toward her. Terrified, Julia opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
Instead her knees gave way, her eyes rolled back, and her whole body collapsed. Would he want her scalp? It was the last thought she remembered.
She awoke with a start. The Indian’s hands were upon her legs, feeling under her skirts.
She kicked out at him, a feeble attempt, for he merely held her legs away, his strength quieting her.
He ran his fingers over her calves and Julia squeezed her eyes shut. Had her life come to this? To be raped by a savage?
But just as quickly as his hands had felt her, he stopped and sprang to his feet, standing over her and glaring at her. He didn’t say a word, just glared at her, and Julia was too scandalized and scared to do more than stare.
He motioned toward her, Julia recognizing the language of sign, but unlike Kristina, she could not converse in this way.
Finally, she shook her head, saying, “I don’t understand.”
She registered the brief look of disgust that flickered across the Indian’s face before he left her, bent upon retrieving his arrows. He picked up the snake, dangling it from his hand, then set off in the direction of the camp, glancing once over his shoulder and motioning Julia to follow.
Julia, however, would do no such thing. She watched the Indian withdraw, hoping he would leave her to settle her scattered wits
. He was back within seconds, standing over her, frowning down at her.
A look of distaste flickered over his features before he was able to control it, and with a rare show of temper, he thrust the snake away, then bent to sweep Julia into his arms.
He carried her as though she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes, and it struck Julia halfway to camp that this savage had just saved her life. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. She had been quite satisfied endowing them with the image of savages and rapists. She didn’t want to think of them as heroes. She didn’t want to think of them at all.
She shivered uncontrollably, but whether it was from the shock of the rattler or the trauma of her own thoughts, she was never quite sure.
Chapter Eleven
“He saved your life.”
“I know, Kristina. It’s just that…” Julia slammed the accounts book closed and straightened up from the counter. “You know, I wish the proprietor would do his own books and run his own center. I’m not sure from one week to the next whether we’re making a profit or not.”
Kristina smiled. She glossed the feather duster over the assorted books on the shelves. Not that the trading center sold many books, which was probably why these were coated in dust. “Tahiska told me that rattlesnakes often hide in the burrows left by the prairie dogs,” Kristina stated, ignoring Julia’s outburst. “Which is why one has to take care when walking through one of their deserted towns. Neeheeowee knew the danger and followed you. I’m glad that he was there. I’ve heard that one can die swiftly from a poisonous bite.”
“He scared me silly,” Julia declared, picking up the accounts book and banging it onto another table. “It wasn’t enough that he just kill the pest. No, he had to swoop out of nowhere whooping and hollering and running towards me as though he would like to take my scalp. He ran his hands over my legs.”
Kristina laughed, giving her friend a sly look. “He was checking to see if you’d been bitten.”
“He could have said as much.”