by Karen Kay
Alas, it was a shame it all had to come to an end; that the new, incoming culture had not embraced the old.
She chanced a quick glance at Soaring Eagle, noting that his gaze was trained, not on her, but on some sight which lay farther out into the night. And he was singing, the melody reminding her of this spacious land, as though the song had captured and put sound to an image of the pure mountain streams, to the sun-kissed mountains. The key was minor, his voice clear and soft, deep and baritone…
“Oooooooooooooooooooo.
When you hear my voice on the wind,
When you see the eagle fly,
Know that these tell of my love for you.”
Kali’s heart constricted. Her breath caught, and the beauty of the moment pulled a response from her, bringing tears to her eyes. He was singing of passion, of love, of things she had once thought to be no more than silly sentimentality.
But it wasn’t so. These things were real. Oh, how she would like to rethink her position with this man, to let go of her reserve and let him into her soul.
Was she being foolish not to? Indeed, what evidence did she have that she couldn’t trust him? Were their worlds really so distant, one to the other? What would be the worst thing that would happen were she to succumb to him?
A wasted career?
So what? Was it really that important? Somehow, out here under the grand canopy of stars, it was hard to imagine that it was so.
He glanced at her, his gaze studiously intent, as though he might have perceived some of what she was thinking. He said, “I am singing the same song that I sang to you earlier tonight.”
She didn’t know why that statement set off a sweep of emotion within her, but it did. A tear fell over her cheek and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. It was as though the beauty of the moment was too much for her.
She didn’t trust herself to speak, and so she turned her head away, and shaking it right and left, she murmured, “I know.”
“Won’t you sing it with me, for it is our song?”
Our song? That simple reminder set off a fresh surge of longing. Kali bit her lip. How was she supposed to resist him? How was she supposed to do it when everything within her wanted him, his touch, his love…right now.
His voice came close to her ear when he whispered, “Please, won’t you sing?”
She gulped down the knot in her throat and said, “I can’t, Soaring Eagle. As I told you earlier this evening, I don’t have a very pretty voice—not like yours.”
“Do not say that. Your voice is beautiful.”
“No, not my speaking voice. I mean a singing voice. I—”
“If you can speak, sweet Kali, you can learn to sing. I could teach you.”
Sweet Kali? Oh, how she liked that. “No…no… Some things are best left alone. Besides, I—I think I’ve forgotten the words.”
“So soon?”
She rolled her head around toward him and glanced up, only to catch his look. He had come down onto his knees beside her.
She gasped. Raw passion stared back at her from the depths of his gaze.
But the look was quickly gone. He moved, and settling back once more against the tree, Soaring Eagle treated her to a teasing smile, as though he were a lover sporting a broken heart. And even this, such a small thing—and done in jest—had Kali’s insides twisting, as though her body might be in as much turmoil as she was herself.
However, he was continuing to speak, saving Kali the need for a reply, and he said, “Let me remind you of the words of the song, then, that you might never forget them.”
Forget them? How could she ever?
“It starts this way:
Oooooooooooooooooooo.
When you hear the wolf howl,
He brings you my message.
I cry for you.
Oooooooooooooooooooo.
When the wind calls your name,
Know that I search for you.
And when we find one another,
the earth will be a happy place.
Oooooooooooooooooooo. You are my love.”
Kali listened to the last note. Not only was there beauty in the song, there was sadness; a sadness that made her long to take him in her arms, to cradle him and nurture him until the melancholy abated.
She began to tremble.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“Ah…no, not really… Well, maybe a little.”
She’d been using his blanket as a pillow. Perhaps she should wrap it around her body instead. Before she could make a move to change it, he was stripping off his shirt. Dropping to his knees, he set it over her.
Kali looked away from him. Not only because there were tears in her eyes, ones that she couldn’t easily explain, but because she did not trust herself to look at this man’s muscle and brawn. To maintain her composure, the image of a prim, nineties woman, she had to turn away from him.
Soon he was tucking the material around her, his touch, though impersonal, setting off sparks within her. “No, please,” she said, scooting a little away from him. “You should leave your shirt on. It’s a chilly night and I—I don’t want you to catch cold.”
“I won’t catch cold. You probably need it more than I do.”
Did she? Somehow she didn’t think her problem was attributable to the briskness in the air.
Still, the shirt lay over her; its heady fragrance of sturdy cotton and the warm, male scent reached out to her, tempting her, prompting a response. It was pure torment.
“Please, Soaring Eagle,” she found herself saying, almost pleading. “I don’t need it. Really I don’t. Won’t you take it back?” She seized hold of the shirt and, pulling it from around her, held it out to him.
He sat forward, accepting the article from her, but in doing so, as though it gave him a reason, he drew still closer. Intently, critically, he gazed at her for a moment before saying, “What is wrong?”
“N-nothing.”
Coming nearer even yet, he breathed, “I don’t believe it’s nothing. I see tears in your eyes.”
“Do you?”
“Aa.”
“I…it’s…yes, I-I’ve managed to get something in my eye, that’s all.” She turned her head away from him.
“Are you certain that’s all?”
The words came close to her ear, so near she could feel the movement of his lips.
Fire, raw, urgent and demanding, tore through her. But all she said was, “Yes, I—I am…sure of it.” She shut her eyes. “That was beautiful, by the way.”
“What? The song? Or the shirt?”
He was still very close. With barely any effort at all, she could bring her lips to his.
Do it, a voice urged. Do it.
But all of this was unreal to her; too new, too untried. She paused as though uncertain, but in the end all she did was speak, saying, “The song. It—it touched me deeply.”
“That’s because it is our song, sweet Kali. You should learn the words, that you might always know it.”
“Should I?” she asked, hating the pleading quality of her voice.
“Aa, yes, you should. The melody, the words, all of it. They are ours. They belong only to us.”
A sob tore from her throat. Disconcerted, she froze and closed her eyes, catching her lower lip with her teeth.
And then it happened. He touched her under her chin. It was a simple graze, merely a finger placed gently, urging her face around, toward him. Nothing to cause excitement. Yet Kali’s heightened senses exploded. She sighed.
Softly he observed, “You have been crying.”
“N-no…I…”
But he didn’t hear her. He kissed each one of her eyelids gently, softly, his breath, scented with mint and the fragrance of ceremonial smoking, tugged at her heartstrings—and a sensation of raw affection flooded her system quickly and effusively. She felt as though she might faint, were it not for the fact that she was already positioned on her back.
He said, “Do
you grieve over your mistakes this evening?”
She didn’t answer.
But he continued as though she had. “Do not anguish over your clumsiness inside my father’s lodge this evening,” he said. “All those within understood that you were nervous and do not judge you because of it.”
He didn’t know? He honestly didn’t realize his effect on her?
Somehow, it seemed impossible.
“You must remember our song.” He was continuing to speak. “For if you ever should sing it, I will know that you want me and I will come to you…if I can.”
Gazing up at him, at his features, as the night bathed him with mixtures of shadow and light, Kali caught her breath, held it. Never, not ever, had she beheld the visage of a man as handsome as he. Kali swallowed—hard.
Dear Lord, why were the accounts about these people so terrible? Why, when all she could perceive with her own powers of observation was beauty? And it was not simply a beauty of the flesh. No, there was about him, about many of the others she had seen here, a radiance of spirit, as though they, as a group, had perfected that ideal balance between the physical and the ethereal.
At her thoughts, a fresh round of tears welled up behind her eyes. It was as though her outward facade, the one she hid behind, was disappearing, leaving her alone, exposed…yet completely herself.
Nervously, she squared her chin, trying to hold back the tears. How was she supposed to respond to this situation? For lack of an answer, she turned her face aside once more. Ultimately, the only thing she could think to say was, “I know that you will come to me if you can. You told me that you would earlier tonight.”
“So I did.” After a moment, he suggested, “You could at least speak the words, couldn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, I could speak them. I will.”
Soaring Eagle sighed into her hair, and a shiver of pleasure raced over her skin, for she felt the warmth of his breath, there at the back of her ear. He said, “It is good; very, very good.”
“Is it?”
“Aa, it is, for your willingness gives me hope.”
Gives him hope? At the thought, a warm glow settled over her.
“Now, repeat after me. ‘When you hear the wolf howl…’”
“When you hear the wolf howl…he brings you my message.” Kali smiled, and turning back, beamed up at him, “You see. I already know some of it.”
“Aa, you do.” He grinned. “Now, the next line is, ‘I cry for you’.”
“I cry for you,” she repeated, her gaze catching his.
They stared at one another. “Do you really?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper. “Are you now?”
“I—I…told you that this is nothing more than…” She shut her eyes.
“Don’t cry,” he said, his fingers pushing back her hair from her forehead.
Oh, how good that felt. She shifted position, presenting him with the vulnerability of her neck.
As though unable to help himself, he bent, placing a soft kiss there, saying, “Know that I would have you if I could.”
She took a deep breath, and to her horror, she sobbed.
“Please,” he said, “tell me what is wrong.”
“It…it is nothing…really. I’ll be fine.”
“But,” he said, his voice near her ear, “will I?”
Kali glanced at him, her face brushing up against his, so near was he to her. “I don’t understand.”
He merely smiled at her, moving until he lay on his side next to her, and coming up onto an elbow, he cradled his head in his hand. Only then did he speak again, saying, “‘When the wind calls your name…’”
Kali didn’t respond. She didn’t know what to say.
“That’s the next line,” he prompted.
“Oh. When the wind calls your name…” she echoed.
“‘Know that I search for you…’”
He had bent forward, was leaning over her, his lips so close that all she would need do would be to raise up a narrow quarter inch and she would kiss him. Should she do it?
“Know that I search for you…” she repeated.
His fingers cupped her face. “Have you?”
“Soaring Eagle, I—I’m merely repeating what you say.”
“I know. But have you? Searched for me?”
“I…yes…no.”
“Yes?”
“Soaring Eagle, in truth, I have been searching for nothing.”
“Haven’t you?” he asked. “Then why have you been traveling the world through? Studying other cultures?”
“Because I am interested in them, and because my father has taken me there.”
He raised an eyebrow. “There is no other reason?”
“I…I’m…” Kali stopped herself from finishing the statement. Whatever she’d been about to say was a part of her past. In faith, at this present moment, she wasn’t certain she hadn’t been doing precisely that. There did seem to be a ring of truth to it.
He paused as though awaiting her comment. After a moment, however, when it appeared she would say no more, he continued, “The next phrase is, ‘And when we find one another, the earth will be a happy place’.”
She murmured, “And when we find one another, the earth will be a happy place.”
He reached out, taking her hand into his own. Bending, he inhaled deeply before he kissed that hand, as though he might be memorizing her fragrance. He whispered, “‘You are my love…’”
Kali gulped.
“That is the next line in the song.”
Kali let out her breath, at last saying, “You…are…my…love…”
“I mean it,” he said, his look at her somber. “Do you?”
She raised up to meet him. “Soaring Eagle, please, I—I can’t think. Please just hold me, for I need—”
“Excuse me,” a feminine voice said, the words coming from behind them. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but your father sent me…find you.”
Startled, both Soaring Eagle and Kali glanced up.
Soaring Eagle appeared briefly puzzled. “My father sent you?”
Gilda Shadow Runner shook her head. “Not you. Her.” She inclined her head toward Kali.
“Oh, that’s right.” Kali turned over, onto her stomach, feeling foolish somehow. “I had almost forgotten. Soaring Eagle sent you into town, carrying a message to my father. Is he here?”
Gilda once more shook her head. “Him…not come until morning—sun up. Him sent me…find you. Him concerned about you. Him want me…stay with you till he come.”
“Oh, I see.” Kali gave Soaring Eagle an apologetic glance. And Soaring Eagle, for his part, rolled away from her.
Disappointed, Kali sat up onto her knees. “Well, I suppose that’s…all right. Soaring Eagle and I have been, ah…talking while we await the transfer of the Medicine Pipe. We may still have many hours to go before a new owner is found.”
“That true,” said Gilda, glancing toward the midnight sky. “Many hours yet before dawn. Much time.” Gilda leaned against a tree trunk, her face fading into shadow, hiding her expression. “Heard singing.”
“Ah, yes. Soaring Eagle has been singing—and has been trying to give me lessons, all to no avail, I might add.”
Kali glanced at Soaring Eagle, who had retreated to the tree and had once more assumed a sitting position against it. Arms folded across his chest, his features were set, impossible to read.
“Soaring Eagle has also been telling me legends of Indian lovers who have special songs that they sing to one another.”
“That true. Remember legend I told you?”
“Yes, yes, I do.” Kali dropped her voice to a whisper. “I had no idea, you know.”
“No idea?” asked Gilda.
“I didn’t know that Indian country was filled with music, and that your legends are as hauntingly beautiful as those of Greek mythology. It’s interesting how your culture combines the element of a great deal of song along with the myth.”
“Do you?”
Kali glanced toward Soaring Eagle. What did he think about all this?
But if she’d hoped to glean anything from his countenance, she was to be disappointed. His features didn’t show any emotion, nor did he change his position in the least, nor utter a single word.
At last she said, “Yes, Gilda, I would like it very much if you would sing.”
Gilda nodded. “I…begin, then…”
Chapter Fifteen
Dreams are actual experiences of their shadows (souls) while their bodies sleep.
—James Willard Schultz, Blackfeet and Buffalo
“Hey, hey, hey, hey-a.
Kitsikakomimmotsspoaawa.
Hey, hey, hey, hey-a.
Kitsikakomimmotsspoaawa.
Aa, aa, aa, sskapiim, hey, hey, hey, hey-a.
Aa, aa, aa, sskapiim, hey, hey, hey, hey-a.”
Gilda possessed a soft, soothing voice, the minor key in which she sang melodic and mysterious. And it wasn’t long before Kali began to feel her eyelids droop. Why hadn’t she realized before now how tired she was?
Several times she tried to pinch herself to keep awake—she didn’t want to miss anything: the Medicine Pipe, the ceremony. But in the end it was useless. She fell into a sleep that was as deep as it was relaxing. That is, except for one thing. She dreamed…a strange, wonderful dream. The kind of dream that encourages and allows fantasies to come true…if only for a moment.
Soaring Eagle was beside her. Hand in hand, they stood in front of the honored guests—who were, quite strangely, all Indian. However, no reservation Indians were these. No, these people were the sort of Native Americans that one might have expected to encounter on the plains sixty, perhaps seventy, years earlier. Each one was attired in savage splendor, their buckskin clothing decorated with porcupine quills, beads and painted designs of blue and white.
There might have been other colors marked onto their clothing as well, but Kali failed to notice. She was distracted. The sun, which should have been stationed permanently in the sky, was becoming brighter and brighter, almost painfully so, as though it might be falling to the earth.