by Karen Kay
He didn’t say a word, although he smiled.
She stripped the bandage away, taking care to place a blanket over his unmentionable parts and avoid them altogether. Even more carefully, she retied the tourniquet and, putting a fresh bandage to the wound, pressed on it until the bleeding subsided.
“When did you decide to return to the caves?” she asked, choosing her words and her subject with care. “I’ve only been away at school for five years, and I don’t remember your coming back while I was still here.”
“I returned four great suns ago, or four years as the white man says, when the whiskey traders started coming north.”
“I see. Not until then?” She let up on the pressure and picked up a bunch of herbs, beginning the task of crushing them.
“I did not want to return to this town. It held bad memories for me.”
“All bad?” She cast a shy glance at him.
He came up onto his elbows, his look humorous, yet serious all at once. “Not all.” His eyes raked over her form, up and down, from the top of her dark-brown head to the tips of her slippered toes, where they peeped out from beneath the folds of her dress. He commented, “I was happy to see that the school is no longer here. It was a bad place.”
She nodded. “It did not last long. A few weeks after your trouble, the teacher quit and went back east. It was just as well. I would rather have been taught by my mother anyway.”
“Aa, yes,” he said as he attempted to sit up straighter. “It is always better when someone close to you educates you in the ways of the world. In my village, it is one of the highest duties of an Indian parent, to teach their young. No man or woman ever becomes a parent without dedicating their life to their children. And teaching them, this is the natural way for a child to learn.”
She gave him a smile. “I think that’s a wonderful thing,” she remarked, her tone social, “and I do agree, but please, Mister Wolf Shadow, do not move about when you talk to me. It makes the wound bleed again. I may have to sew some stitches in it, I fear.”
“Aa, if you must,” he uttered and fell back down. “Why do you not call me Moon Wolf, or perhaps ‘Indian’ as the other pale-eyes call me?”
“I don’t know. It seemed the right thing to do. And I’m not like all the other ‘pale-eyes.’”
“Saa, no, you are not.”
She paused, expecting him to say more, her brow pulled into a frown. But, at last, when it appeared he had finished, she asked, “Am I not supposed to call you by your name?”
He gazed upwards, toward the solid rock of their ceiling, his voice low as he said, “It is a sacred name, given to a man who helps his people, a man who is more ghost than real flesh. Or so it is said. It is not a name that others call me.”
“Is it not? And what do other people call you?”
“It depends upon who is talking. To you, I would be a friend…although maybe, if we were to be again at the falls, you might call me your—”
“Do not say it.”
He chuckled, although he relented. “I am sorry, young Alys, I should not tease you in this manner. But to answer your question, to my mother, I would be a son; to my other relatives, a brother or perhaps a cousin.”
“Does no one address you by your name?”
“Good manners do not allow this. Only if a person has another’s permission, is it used.”
“I see. I didn’t know that. I did not mean to offend you by calling you Wolf Shadow. It’s only that—”
“You have my permission to address me directly as Moon Wolf or as the Wolf Shadow, if you would like. I gave that right to you many suns ago when I had my sister tell you my name.”
“Thank you.” She poured water on the herbs she had Crushed, slowly making a paste out of them. “Would you prefer me to call you Moon Wolf?”
“Aa, yes, at least for now.”
“I see.” She became silent. At length, she asked, “Why do you do it?”
“What?”
“Why do you harass the military and the merchants of the town? Wouldn’t things bode better for you personally if you kept to yourself? Then you wouldn’t be shot at or—”
He rose up onto his elbows. “Do you insult me?”
She gave him a blank look.
“What is this thing that you ask of me? Are you inviting me to think only of myself? What sort of a warrior would put himself and his own needs before the welfare of his own people? Look to me closely. Do I appear to be such a man?”
“No, I only…” What had she meant? Was she questioning him because, in her experience, she’d known only a few people who would champion the well-being of an entire group of people before their own? Perhaps she simply didn’t understand him.
“Look to yourself,” he suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“Many years ago a young girl threw herself into danger when she aided two Indian children. Think well. Why did you do it?”
“That was different. You were being mistreated.”
“Aa, yes, mistreated. Now, maybe you understand.” He lay back, sending his gaze up toward the ceiling.
“Are you saying that your people are being ill-treated by our merchants?”
“Aa, yes, that is exactly what I am saying.”
“I know that giving your people liquor is bad, but isn’t it also true that the merchants and the military are feeding your people and providing them with the necessities of life?”
“Are they?” He glanced over at her. “Yet, within the memory of my father is a time when the Indian needed no white man in order to survive. There was a time when the Indian was well cared for by the Above Ones alone, when the buffalo flourished, when my people rarely starved or wanted for anything. It is only since the white man has come here to our country that we starve. No longer do the buffalo roam the land in great quantity. No longer is the earth rich with game. All the Indian sees is that everywhere the white man goes, he leaves behind the destruction of the land and the game”—he paused—“and the Indian.”
He hesitated, and Alys could think of nothing to say to fill the void.
“Also,” he continued after some time, “the white man carries with him a powerful agent to help him in his destruction. And for the weaker spirits in my tribe, it is something they cannot resist—this whiskey.”
“But the whiskey has been with us for many, many years. What makes it so different now? I don’t recall the Indians rebelling so greatly in the past. Maybe a little, but—”
“Perhaps the damage was not so widespread in the days of our fathers.” Moon Wolf scowled. “You have only been back a short time, and so it is possible that you do not realize what has been happening with my people.”
“No, I don’t reckon that I do.”
Silence.
She prompted, “And what is happening to your people?”
He didn’t answer for so long that she thought he might have drifted off to sleep. At length, however, he began, “The whiskey is killing them. And it is happening quickly.”
“Killing? I have heard of the fights that come about when the Indians drink, but isn’t it going a little far to say that it is killing them?”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he began to talk, his voice hushed. “It started long ago. Always in the past, from the day the white man came here, did the Indian have two choices of trade. Here in the south with the newer Big Knives—or the Americans—and up north with the French and regular traders. Then no American would cross the ‘medicine line’ into the north because the Queen mother and her people guarded their territory well. But now those posts are gone.”
“You mean the old Hudson Bay Company?”
“That is the one. There is no one left to guard what was once a vast realm. Now the Americans and the seizers—the ones you call the soldiers—come up north to trade, but they bring with them little more than whiskey. They build forts where bad things happen and they make great profit from our tribes. The women tan and cure many hides, but the men h
ave become so addicted to the white man’s whiskey that they trade all they have for little more than a quick drink. And the more they drink, the more they need. You have already seen that some of my people are not good drunks. Always bad things happen, someone is killed.”
Alys nodded. Yes, she had heard of this, witnessed a little of it.
He continued, “Before the whiskey became so important, our people would feel bad if killings happened, but now even that is gone. All they know is the craving for more and more of the liquor. And each day my people die, if not from the weakness and the sickness that the drink creates, then from the drunken fights.”
She paused in her work. She hadn’t known. “You say they’re building forts up north?”
“Aa, yes, it is so. One of those forts is called Fort Whoop-Up, in the land above the medicine line. Bad things happen there. Even our women come away disgraced.”
Alys became quiet, while she applied the poultice to the wound, cleaning it first, then binding the whole thing up with bandages. She asked, “And so you are trying to put a halt on the whiskey being sent north?”
“The fewer wagons that travel the ‘whiskey trail,’ the better.”
“What is the whiskey trail?”
“It is what my people are calling the road between here and the forts in the north.”
How appropriate, she thought.
She finished wrapping the wound and sat back, sending her gaze briefly toward him. “I have brought some clothing for you,” she said, changing the subject. “They are clothes that my father used to wear. My mother had them in a chest in the house and has kept them all these years. She told me to bring them to you.”
“Aa, that is good. And how is your mother?”
“She is better.”
“My heart is happy to hear that.”
“I will leave the clothes here for you, while I go back to the house.”
He smiled and came up onto his elbows again, his eyes filled with a peculiar sort of mischief. “And where is it that I will get the strength to rise up and dress myself?”
She shot a quick look at him. “You seemed to have no trouble finding enough energy only a short while ago.”
He grinned. “So it is true. But I think I used it all up when I did that.” He paused significantly, his demeanor slightly cocky.
She stiffened. “If you mean to solicit my help, I will tell you now that I will not dress you.”
“But look there where the injury is.” His eyes twinkled with pure roguery, his face brightening.
She raised her chin, refusing to gaze where he suggested. “That is why I will not help you dress. I have already seen more of you than any woman who is not your wife has a right to see.”
His expression didn’t change. “I believe I am deeply offended.”
“Then it will have to be so. You are lucky that the bullet didn’t find you in a more vulnerable place.”
He grinned. “You are right. How could I possibly pleasure a woman such as yourself then?”
“Oh!” She knew her face flushed, and she felt terribly like chuckling, it was all so absurd. “Be quiet, now,” she took refuge in scolding him. “It is time for you to get some sleep. And if you don’t feel like dressing, then don’t. Tomorrow, even the day after, will be soon enough for that.”
He seemed to take this good-naturedly enough, though he stared at her for a long, silent moment, the playfulness in his gaze turning hungry.
She offered, “I imagine you would like something to eat.”
“I had not thought of it, but now that you mention it, I believe you are right.”
“Very well,” she said and rose to her feet. “I will go and fix some soup. I’m hungry, too. I will leave one lantern here for you and take one with me. That way you will be able to find your way out of the darkness if you need to.”
“I do not mind the darkness.”
“Don’t you?” she asked. “Neither do I. Truth is, I have always enjoyed the solitude of the caves. I feel at home here.”
He nodded. “It is good. I will wait for that food, Little Brave Woman. Do not be long.”
She didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. Unspoken communication passed back and forth between them as though their spirits had become attuned to one another. And she was more than aware that he knew she would move boulders if she had to, just so that she could do as he asked.
But then, if their places were reversed, she knew he would do the same thing for her. Again, it was there between them. An unspoken trust.
One she knew neither of them would break. So where did that leave them?
“Don’t go out too much farther,” she called to Moon Wolf while she sat alongside the pool. To her left, a cascade of clear water fell about five hundred feet, into their lagoon, the falls hiding the entrance to the caves. A thin mist usually collected toward the bottom of the falls, she had often noted, as the force of the water shattered against well-worn rocks. Today was no different, and the mist practically made Moon Wolf invisible to her as he slowly tread through the water toward the falls. He didn’t respond to her either, making her wonder if the roar of the water had drowned out her words. She called to him again. “Don’t go too far, Moon Wolf, where I can’t see you. What if you were to overexert yourself?”
She held her breath until at last, he turned around, shooting her a grin. She didn’t miss the mischievous gleam in his eye, either, as he asked, “Would you come in to save me?”
“Never,” she lied, shaking her head in case he couldn’t hear her. “Didn’t I tell you already, when you appealed to me to bring you here, that I would be only too happy to have you off my hands?”
He simply smiled at her, his look much too roguish for her own peace of mind. Darn the man. Wouldn’t it be just like him to test her?
He wouldn’t, would he?
“Moon Wolf, please. I can hardly see you as it is.”
“Do not worry,” he called to her. “I told you that I am stronger now. There is nothing here that could possibly hurt me and I—ouch!”
She lifted her head. “Moon Wolf?”
No response.
“Moon Wolf, are you all right? Don’t tease me. I can’t see you.”
Still no answer.
The rascal! What was wrong with him? She should never have brought him here. She knew that now. There was absolutely no controlling the man. He had entreated her, had insisted that he was well enough to endure a simple swim, but she knew differently. Nothing was simple with Moon Wolf. Still, he had promised her…
“Moon Wolf, answer me,” she tried again. “If you don’t do that, I will not bring you here again…Moon Wolf?…Darn!”
She threw down the herbal poultice she had been working over and stood up. “Moon Wolf, stop it this instant.”
She heard a splash…far away.
“Alys, hurry, I hurt myself…” The rest was drowned out.
Oh, no. She didn’t think further. This was real. He needed her. She plunged into the water, clothes, petticoats, and all. “Moon Wolf, where are you?”
“Over here,” he answered, then nothing.
Although hampered considerably by her clothes, she swam in the general direction of his voice. And then it came to her. This water wasn’t that deep. She put her feet down, the water settled just above her waist. “Are you in trouble?”
“I have a pain. You were right. I do not think I can make it back to the shore.”
“Yes, you can.” She struggled through the water toward him, counting the seconds until she spotted him. But then her heart constricted. Bent over, as though he had a cramp, his head was barely above water level. She drew a deep breath, reminding herself to remain calm. The water was not deep. She would be able to save him. She said, “Just put your feet down and stand up straight. It’s not deep here.”
“I cannot do it, the pain is too much. You will have to help me.”
“All right,” she agreed, coming right up to him and reaching out to place an arm aro
und him. She hadn’t looked into his eyes. A tactical error.
“Aa, Little Brave Woman,” he sighed a little, humor all at once coloring the tone of his voice. “Would that you would hold me like this all through the night.”
At last, she stole a look up at him, her stare shifting from concern to surprise. Without pause, she let her arm drop from around him. Blast the man. “How dare you give me a fright like that. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, is there?” The question was spoken much like a statement.
“There is a great deal wrong with me,” came his response. “Here, feel.” He took her free hand to guide it toward his injury.
Oh, no, he wasn’t. She twisted easily out of his embrace. “You…you tricked me.” She splashed him.
“How can you think such a thing of me. I am injured, is it not true?”
She gave him another splash. “That is not what I meant and you know it. Look at me now. I’m all wet.”
He gave her a splash right back, albeit a small one. “Does Little Brave Woman wish to have a water fight with me?”
She drenched him. “I am not fighting.”
He tread toward her, showering her with water with each slow step he took. “Aa, yes, neither, then, am I,” he said, a silly grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“You are, too. Now stop it this instant.”
Amazingly enough, he did exactly as she ordered, although their previous exertion caused the water to remain turbulent. It lapped up onto them harmlessly, the sound of it oddly soothing. Still, he grinned at her.
And she could barely keep herself from responding in kind. In truth, a chuckle escaped her throat before she could check it.
Her laughter seemed to enchant him, however, and his look became suddenly intense. Despite the roar of the falls, a veil of silence drew around them, enclosing them as though they stood in a universe apart. She meant to say, You are a rogue, but all that came out was, “You are…”