White Eagle's Touch: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 2

by Karen Kay

  Katrina nodded. “Then it indeed is not safe. You may go back, Rebecca, I wouldn’t want you to put your life in danger. But I must stay. I must talk with White Eagle tonight.”

  “Is that his name?”

  Katrina nodded. “You go on back, now. I will meet you there later.”

  The young maid’s grip upon her mistress’s arm tightened. “And leave you here, alone? No, I will not.”

  The women glanced at one another.

  “Very well, then,” Katrina said, “stay with me, but I wish to remain here a little longer, at least until I have a chance to speak to White Eagle. We will watch and listen. I don’t believe anyone has noticed us.”

  Rebecca huddled in toward her, whispering, “All right, mistress.”

  “You are wrong,” came a definite masculine reply from behind them.

  Huddling together, the two of them turned in unison.

  It was the Indian. How had White Eagle moved so swiftly so as to come up behind them? And especially, how could he have done it so silently?

  He said, “You have been very much noticed, but you are in no danger. We are flattered that you are interested in our dance. Come closer, won’t you? I have something for you.”

  “N-no,” Katrina said, her hand clutching Rebecca’s. “We are happy to just stand here on the outskirts of the…ah…dancers.”

  “I promise that no harm will come to you.”

  “Do you?” Hadn’t she heard somewhere that an Indian’s word was as honorable as the most civilized gent’s? “What do you have for me?”

  “You will see, and, yes, I promise,” he said, as he held out an object toward her—a pink-and-white frilly contraption…

  “My umbrella! Wherever did you find it?”

  “It was left behind when you visited me in my lodge.”

  “Oh, I must extend my apology for the inconvenience. Thank you for bringing this to me.”

  He nodded.

  He handed the object to her and looked away, silence reigning between them, until at last, she asked, “Do you celebrate something tonight?”

  “Aa, yes.”

  “Oh? What are you celebrating?”

  “My people have had a good trading season this year, and they will go home much better off than when they came here. It is a good thing.”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her then, just as he had when she’d first noticed him across the line of dancers, and she returned the attention.

  Something elusive passed between them, within that steady look. She couldn’t have said what it was, only that it made her feel…calm. Calm and warm.

  She said, “I have come here to talk to you.”

  He nodded, and held out his hand. “Come,” he said.

  But Katrina held back. She huddled in closer to Rebecca.

  He did not withdraw his hand. Instead, he said again, “Come.”

  Both girls stared at that hand, Rebecca looking over toward Katrina, then back at the hand.

  Katrina, however, lifted her gaze to the Indian. Their glances met, held; his inviting, hers…

  She made a movement forward, toward him, but Rebecca clung to her, holding her back. Rebecca whispered, “I don’t think you should do it. I feel we should leave here at once. Whatever you have to say to this man can be said in the morning.”

  Katrina looked at her maid, then back at the Indian. She said, “I have come here to speak with you.”

  White Eagle nodded. Without letting his hand drop, he said again, “I know. Come with me.”

  “I…”

  “Mistress…?”

  Katrina didn’t even glance at her maid. She stared only at White Eagle’s hand, as he stretched it out toward her. She wanted so much to take it. What could be wrong with that?

  She made to move forward.

  “Mistress…?”

  Again Katrina paid her maid no heed. Rebecca wasn’t gazing at White Eagle; Rebecca couldn’t know the pull…the magnetism of him, the desire to be close to him…

  Katrina stepped forward then, and with only a slight hesitation, placed her hand within the Indian’s.

  Immediately, a feeling of relief swept through her. She glanced up at White Eagle, and they gazed at one another until, after a moment, he smiled at her.

  Katrina used to wonder at women who would swoon at the least provocation, but now she thought she understood the emotion behind it. A raw feeling raced through her and she was glad, for the first time, that Rebecca stood behind her, if only to hold her up.

  At last, though, he spoke to her, saying, “Come, follow me,” whereupon he let go of her hand and turned around to lead them through the crowd, many of the native people standing back to make room for them.

  Presently they reached the inner ring of the circle, the dancers standing no more than a few feet away from them.

  White Eagle said to her, “These men do a dance honoring the Mad Dog Society.”

  Katrina nodded, while Rebecca hung on to her arm.

  Katrina glanced down at her maid. Rebecca’s eyes were wide, the girl’s glance darting all around the circle.

  Katrina patted Rebecca’s hand and gazed back at the dancers. She was almost ready to ask White Eagle to explain about the mad dog society when he said, “Ah-kit-kats-a-pin-soye,” and pointed to Rebecca.

  Katrina hesitated a moment. She had an odd perception, a feeling that she should know the meaning of those words, and she was just about to comment upon it, when Rebecca clutched at her arm. Looking at White Eagle, Katrina asked, “What did you just say?”

  He pointed to Rebecca. “She looks around very much and winks her eyes as though they are dry.”

  Katrina nodded.

  “She is frightened,” he continued, “and is looking around as a newcomer will do.”

  “Is that what a newcomer does?” Katrina wondered, considering this for a moment. “Why, I believe you are right. What an observant phrase. What was it again? She looks around…”

  “…very much and winks her eyes as though they are dry.”

  “Say it in your language.”

  He said, “Ah-kit-kats-a-pin-soye.”

  “Ah-kit-kats…”

  “…a-pin-soye. When this dance is finished,” he continued to say, “some of the older men will dance the Kit-Fox dance. Would you like to hear the story of that dance?”

  Katrina nodded while Rebecca did nothing more than stare. But both girls remained silent, and so he went on to say, “In the days of my grandfather, it is said that there was once a man called Elk Tongue who had been journeying with others into the Snake country, but he soon left the others and turned back toward the village.

  He walked a very long way and was very tired. He was so tired that he fell asleep near a prairie-dog village. In his dreams the kit foxes came out of their holes and came to him and invited him to a feast. There they showed him a dance and talked to him and told him that if he and his people would not kill any more of the kit foxes, that all would be rewarded with long life. It is said that from this time forward, no members of this society ever came to great harm and all lived long lives. The dance these people do is the same dance taught to them by the kit foxes.”

  Katrina simply stared at him, unable to voice a single word. She had heard of it, of course, of the Indian’s close relationship with the land, with all of nature, but until this moment, she hadn’t been fully aware of the extent of that truth. And she felt mesmerized; not only by the tone and quality of White Eagle’s voice, but by the simple story of a prairie animal’s relationship with humans.

  White Eagle didn’t seem to notice her preoccupation, however. He continued speaking, saying, “Come, there is more I will show you,” and, gesturing for them to follow him, he led them to a different part of the camp. “This is yet another dance,” he said, as they came upon a group of people. “There are many dances and ceremonies that are taking place in the camp tonight.”

  He gestured in front of him to where a line of women faced a
line of men. “Do you see the women there?” He nodded in their direction. “When the singing and drumming begins, the women will dance up to the men while the men watch and stand in place, waiting. This dance is called the Sina-paskan, or the dance of the Sioux.

  It is a good dance and very popular with our people because a part of this dance allows the girl to choose the man she is to dance with.”

  Katrina nodded, and said, “This is all fascinating, but is there somewhere more private where we could talk?”

  He nodded. “Aa, yes, but this will not take long, and it is an interesting dance.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes,” he said and, motioning back toward the dancers, continued, “Either the man, or the woman, is allowed to tag a partner to begin the dance, and once tagged, the person must dance. If a person who has been tagged refuses to do so, he must pay the other person the price of something valuable.”

  Katrina glanced forward, at the two lines of dancers. “How unusual,” she said, “and what happens, might I ask, if a person—so tagged—chooses not to give something to the other person?”

  He shrugged. “He or she will be looked upon as stingy, and the people in camp will make fun of that man or woman for as long as it takes the person to make the offering of a present.”

  “Humph,” Katrina said. “A somewhat unusual justice system.”

  He nodded. “It is as it has always been.” He glanced down at her, speculation in his gaze as he said, “There is also one more part of this dance.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aa, yes. Once a woman dances up to a man, she is expected to bestow upon him a…favor, for which he, in return, must give her a present.”

  “Oh? What sort of favor does she give him?”

  White Eagle smiled at her. “You will see.

  I do not wish to tell you all there is to know about the performance. Let there be some surprise.”

  Katrina gave him a quizzical look before glancing once again at the dancers.

  “So,” he said, “if a woman throws her shawl over a man, he must dance; or if a man gives a woman his headdress or the feathers in his hair, she must participate, also.”

  Katrina glanced at him, then away, looking back over at the line of dancers.

  Suddenly, White Eagle tapped her on the shoulder and, when she turned her face toward him, he proffered her a feather—the feather that had been dangling in his hair.

  She sent a startled glance up to him, then toward the feather. She said. “Surely you don’t mean to ask me to dance…?”

  He nodded. “Aa, yes, I do.”

  “But I’m not Indian, I don’t know your customs, I couldn’t…”

  “Yes, you could.”

  “No, I—”

  “If you are chosen, you must take part. Or you must pay the price.”

  “And what price would I have to pay?”

  “It would be up to me to decide.”

  “Up to you…?”

  He nodded.

  “But…”

  He touched her arm. “Come.”

  He didn’t say another word; he simply gestured to her to follow him out into the line of women dancers, and she, after casting a mournful look at Rebecca, followed him. The women in line giggled at her, yet they made room for her nonetheless.

  He crossed over to the line of men.

  The drum started at once, the singing, too, and the women began to sway to the music; they did nothing more, at first, but stand in place and rock back and forth to the pulse of that drum.

  And then the line of women started to move forward, the Indians all taking very small steps and swaying to the beat of the drum. Suddenly Rebecca came into line beside Katrina. She grabbed at Katrina’s hand.

  “I was chosen, too,” Rebecca whispered. “What are we to do?”

  Katrina let her gaze sweep over the line, all the women continuing to move forward in slow, steady steps. She said, “I don’t see that we have a choice. White Eagle promised me that no harm would come to us while we are with him, so I suppose we must go along with this and do the dance. It will be over soon. Goodness knows what the Indians would want from us as recompense if we don’t dance. No, I think it is better that we do this.”

  Rebecca nodded, and both girls fell into step, slowly pacing forward.

  Soon, however, it became evident that all the women had singled out a man and were dancing toward their partners.

  Katrina glanced ahead of her. There was no one there, but White Eagle. And there was no one else dancing onward toward him…except her. He had ensured she danced straight for him, she realized, by positioning himself directly in front of her, just as one of his companions had placed himself in front of Rebecca.

  She gazed at White Eagle; he looked back at her. And she would have been a liar had she pretended that she didn’t feel anything for this man.

  More passion passed between them with that simple look than she could easily account for.

  Too soon, however, she had danced right up to him, and she lowered her glance to the ground, if only to settle her spinning senses. She did wonder what this special favor was that the women were supposed to give to the men, and she was beginning to speculate upon it when suddenly, she was left in no doubt as to exactly what that favor was.

  She watched as every woman here, who had been in line, reached up toward the man of her choice, as every woman here kissed that man—upon his face.

  Katrina gasped and gazed quickly toward White Eagle, who did nothing more than raise his eyebrows and grin at her.

  She glanced back to the line of women. Why, a few of the couples were, even now, after that kiss, leaving the dance, and it took no genius to know just what those few couples would be doing.

  Startled, Katrina brought her glance back to stare at White Eagle. He returned her regard, this time minus the grin.

  He motioned her forward; but she shook her head and didn’t move, incapable of doing more at the moment than stare at him. At last, though, it became evident to her that all those who had gathered around to watch the dance now stared at her. Some of them laughed, some giggled; mostly, however, the people simply watched her.

  At last, she said to White Eagle, “I came here to speak to you, that is all. But you asked me to dance and…you lied to me. You said that no harm would come to me while I was with you.”

  “Did I lie to you? Am I harming you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can this be? I don’t even touch you.”

  “You chose me for this dance, knowing I would have to…to…kiss you.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do not do it. If it hurts you to give me a kiss, you do not have to do it. Perhaps I should not have teased you with the dance. Come, I will take you home.” He made to move away from her, out of the line of dancers.

  But she caught at his wrist, the action staying him. She said, “No, you shouldn’t have teased me.”

  He nodded, motioning her to follow him and making to move away yet again.

  She, however, held firmly on to him. “And I don’t?”

  “You do not…what?”

  “I don’t have to kiss you?”

  “No,” he said, glancing down at her hand on his.

  “Will your people ridicule me if I don’t do it?”

  “No.”

  “Will they think badly of me?”

  He shrugged, returning his regard toward her. “No,” he said.

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Some might think you are a coward, but that is not to be avoided. After all, they would not know that I chose you to dance. They will not know that you did not understand what is expected in the dance.”

  “So they will think I am a coward?”

  “Perhaps, but it is not—”

  “If I kiss you, only a little, no one will think ill of me? No one will call me a coward?”

  He gave her a considering look. “No.”

  “Then
I will kiss you.” She glanced up very quickly, then away.

  And he very slowly grinned. He said, “Will you?”

  “On the cheek.”

  His smile widened and he bent down toward her, presenting her with the side of his face, his cheek.

  She drew a deep breath then, and, leaning forward, she gave him a quick peck, not expecting White Eagle to turn his face around toward her so that his lips suddenly came into contact with hers.

  It was a chaste kiss, merely lips upon lips, and yet, it satisfied an intense craving that had been building up within her these past few days, and she leaned in even closer to him, inviting him to do more.

  She still held one of his hands, but he placed his other upon her hip, holding her away from him, as though he wished to protect her.

  After several moments, he broke off the kiss and, raising his head slightly away from hers, he said softly, for her ears alone, “We are in a place here where others watch us, and so I cannot let my passion for you flare as I would like. But know this, Little Moonlight, I feel…much for you.”

  She gasped, though she found herself leaning in even closer.

  And he continued, his voice still low, his words meant only for her, “Do not be shocked. There is good in what is between us. Many times I have heard of people who are never honored all of their life with as much yearning as there is between us. And this from only a kiss. Do you feel how you make me tremble?” He let go of her to take her hand in his own and place it upon his chest, leaving her hand there, while his fingers came up to her neck, massaging and smoothing over her pulse.

  “Do you hear how swiftly your heart beats when you are close to me, as does mine, too? And this, despite all the people who, even now, watch us.”

  She stared at him, his words acting like a deluge of cold water upon her. She let go of him all at once and stepped back away from him, gazing around her as she said, “No, no, it cannot be.” She continued to back away, her eyes wide. “You don’t understand. I am engaged. I can’t feel anything for you, and I don’t know what it is that you are saying… I haven’t… I can’t…”

  He just grinned at her. “There is no need to deny it. In other times and in other places, people have been engaged to be married and these things are broken. Do you not see that there is…feeling between us? Do you not know that it is a gift, this passion between us, and it is not often given to two people? I tell you now that it could grow into something worth having if you will let it.”