Plenty Proud

by Jeanie P Johnson

  Regardless of her weariness, Mackenzie jumped to her feet, determined to catch up with Griz before he reached the white, painted adobe, fort-like-looking trading post below. In her haste, her ankle on her injured foot gave out, and she found herself tumbling down the rise, out of control. She landed in a heap right at the feet of an Indian, and she gave a gasp, as she looked up at him.

  He was tall, or he looked tall from her sprawled position on the ground. Mackenzie was trying to scramble to an upright position, but her feet were too tangled in the tattered hem of her skirt. Before she knew it, the Indian had lifted her in one smooth movement, with his two strong arms, and placed her on her feet before him, his large hands resting on her waist.

  It was then, she managed to look at him more clearly, his dark eyes penetrated her green ones, and the look on his face seemed as astonished as she believed her expression must be. He was dressed in a buckskin fringed shirt, beads hanging from his neck, feathers dangling from his long, black, hair, twisting in the breeze. He wore a breechcloth and leggings. His moccasins had intricate beadwork on the top of them. His stare was so intense she lowered her eyes to his feet, staring at the attractive design of the beadwork instead.

  Then she was wrenching from his grasp, and dashing off again after Griz, glancing over her shoulder at the handsome Indian, who stood staring after her. Because she wasn’t looking, she slammed right into Griz’s back, and he let out a holler.

  “What in tarnation…? Oh, it’s you! Whatcha doin’ rushin’ inta me like that, I thought ya wanted ta rest?”

  “I decided I needed to be there when you sold my hides,” she told him. It was the first words she had spoken to him in weeks. “I’m curious as to how much they give me for my Pa’s pelts.”

  He gave her a sideways glance. He had no intentions of giving her any money to use to hightail it out of there.

  “Also, I wanted to ask around to see if anyone has seen my Pa or brother,” she added. “We can tell the man who runs the place to let them know I survived if they see them. I thought for sure my Pa would come looking for me at your place by now.”

  “He probably aint even alive, ya have no way of knowing. However, you could stick around my place just ta make sure, in case he does come lookin’ fer ya there,” he winked.

  “No, I’ll just tell the owner here to tell my pa or brother if he sees them, that I have gone back to Missouri. That’s probably where they will be headed, since the cabin is a shambles now, and we still have a house in Missouri.”

  “I told ya I won’t lecha take that trip alone,” Griz grumbled.

  “I don’t care what you think. If I can’t get a stage, I’ll tag along with trappers headed back to Missouri to sell their pelts at the tanneries.”

  “I don’t think that would be too safe,” he mumbled.

  She thought he was probably right, but didn’t say anything as she tagged along behind him. Mackenzie kept thinking of the Indian who had put her back on her feet, and glanced over her shoulder again. She took in a deep breath when she discovered he was still watching her and following at a distance. This frightened her, and she grabbed Griz’s arm, which surprised him.

  Griz looked down at her as she gripped his arm, clutching tightly to it. It was unlike her to cling to him like that.

  “What’s the matter, Missy, is yer foot givin’ ya pain?” He figured she must be looking for him to support her as she walked.

  “It’s that Indian! He is following me!”

  Griz looked over at the Indian and shrugged, giving a chuckle of amusement.

  “Them Indians are friendly. They’re from the Sioux tribe, and though some Sioux are pretty fierce, and ya don’t ever want ta rile ‘em, the ones hanging around the tradin’ post won’t harm ya none. He’s not followin’ ya. He’s probably just headin’ in the same direction as we’re goin’.”

  Mackenzie shrugged and let go of his arm. Maybe Griz was right, and she was just being too skittish, never having seen an Indian close up before. She could still feel the pressure of his hands on her waist, though, and wondered why it made her skin tingle where he had touched her. She looked again, and actually thought he was smiling at her. The next time she glanced in his direction, she saw that a young Indian maiden had come up beside him and grabbed his hand. It was probably her he had been smiling at, Mackenzie thought. He wasn’t following her after all. She let out a relieved breath. Then the two were passing her and Griz, but as they did, the Indian turned his head and looked into Mackenzie’s eyes again, keeping his gaze on her, until the girl beside him said something and he turned his attention to her.

  Mackenzie could only gasp inside. Why did his intent stare affect her so strangely? She could barely catch her breath because of some unknown message that seemed to pass between them, through his gaze. She could feel herself trembling, but she didn’t know why. She knew the Indian was not going to hurt her, so why did his presence disturb her so much?

  She found herself watching his back, as he walked with the young woman ahead of them. She noticed how broad his shoulders were and that he was actually rather tall, even when she was standing and looking at him. He moved with an ease of self-assurance that was almost tangible. His long, dark tresses draped around his shoulders almost to his waist, some of it flying around his head as it was caught in a cross breeze. He had a knife held in a beaded sheath at his side with tuffs of horsehair incased in narrow, tin bells, dangling from it. The white, carved bone handle, caught the sun. She noticed now, as he turned his head to glance at her again, that the feathers in his hair were attacked to a long slim string of beads, attached to the side of his head, with a silver clip of some sort, near his brow. The beauty of his costume and stature caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected to admire an Indian the way she was doing now.

  When they entered the walls, surrounding the trading post, the Indian, and the girl with him, got lost in the crowd of trappers, Indians and some white travelers, all anxious to do business, whether it was trading or buying goods, or using the blacksmith stall to do repairs on their wagons or shoeing their horses. Now, Mackenzie was sidetracked by all that was going on around her. There were mules carrying supplies on their backs, being led by their owners, wagons filled with trade-goods whether already bought or ready to be sold or traded, she didn’t know. Indians had bundles on their backs, mostly furs, and some had travois’ loaded down with objects to trade. White people, right along with Indians, were calling out to each other among the mingled bodies and animals inside the fort-like walls.

  Griz tied the mule up to the hitching post outside the establishment, and told Mackenzie that since she was there, she might as well help him bring the hides in. She grabbed her own bundle off of the mule, and a couple of his bundles as well. There was a line of others ahead of them, so Mackenzie occupied herself by looking around at all the goods hanging on the walls and situated on tables. There were bushels of fruit and vegetables, barrels of sugar, molasses, grain, bags of flour, and tins of dried meat. Her eyes gazed at a ready-made dress hanging from a rack, with other dresses. Some were Indian dresses, she noticed. She glanced down at her own tattered dress, and was thinking that when she got her money, she would buy her a new dress. She walked to the rack and found herself fingering the beaded yoke of the Indian dress in admiration of the handy work. The skirt was shorter than the one she wore. It only hit below the knee, and she thought it would be easier to function in than the dress she was wearing which had seen better days, remembering how the long skirt was always getting in her way.

  Mackenzie glanced up, to meet the eyes of that disturbing Indian again who was watching her. She quickly pulled her fingers away from the leather dress, as though she was doing something wrong by touching an Indian costume with admiration. The girl at his side tugged at his sleeve, pointing to something across the room, and he followed her in that direction. Mackenzie admired the way the dress looked on the Indian girl, with the fringe dancing as her legs hit against it when she walked. She star
ted contemplating getting the dress on the rack, which she had been admiring.

  Mackenzie stepped back beside Griz, and as she did, she noticed a hand-mirror, displayed on one of the tables, and picked it up to inspect it. When she saw her reflection for the second time after seeing it in the window before leaving the cabin, she cringed at what met her eyes. No wonder the Indian was staring at her. She looked horrible.

  Her face was smudged with dirt, her hair was a hopeless tangle about her shoulders, appearing darker than it actually was because it was in need of a good washing. Freckles stood out on her slim nose, and her full lips were chapped and split in places. There were dark circles under her eyes, which made them look a little haunted. She knew her dress was dirty and tattered, and she was ashamed to discover she had fallen into the unrecognizable person she had become, while staying with Griz. She glanced at her hand that was holding the mirror, and could see the dirt under her finger nails and the cracked cuticles. When she put the mirror back down on the table, she stared at her palm as though she had never seen her hand before noting the calluses on her fingers and palm from fleshing out hides

  She wondered what others there thought of her. They must figure she was just a backwoods woman with no education or sense of self-respect. She wanted to escape the room and hide, but it was too late. Everyone there had already seen her, probably wanting to keep their distance from her, she thought. Now she cast her eyes down on the floor that was covered in sawdust, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes, especially those Indian eyes, which had been watching her unashamedly.

  Griz gave her a nudge. “Put yer bundles on the counter,” he was telling her, and she jerked to attention, and started piling the hides on the counter for the man to inspect. He had probably done this so many times he didn’t have to take much time to know what the pelts were worth. He thumbed through them, testing the fir for thickness and texture. Unfortunately, Mackenzie discovered that at the trading post, hides were used like money for anything in the store. Each item was worth so many beaver hides. They did not pay money for the hides. Now she understood why many trappers took their hides to Missouri to sell because it was the only place where they could get actual gold coin for their hides. Here, they could only get comedies.

  “Ya might as well figure out whacha wanna trade fer yer hides,” Griz smiled, knowing that without the price of a stage fare, or something to pay someone to take her to Missouri, Mackenzie was going to have to remain with him.

  Makenzie swallowed hard. She took the piece of paper with a list of her hides on it, which she could use as money to buy whatever she wanted in the trading post. If she didn’t use up the amount of hides she had, she could bring the paper back later, that had the number of hides used for her purchases, and how many hides she had left to use. Her heart sank to her feet, believing she would be stuck with Griz forever. Maybe she could sell her list to someone who had money, she thought frantically. Only as she looked around at the people in the room, she realized most of them were trappers or Indians looking for food and other items, for their furs. Others were travelers, passing through. She thought she could approach a few, just in case they could use her list in place of money they might use to buy supplies to last them as they traveled overland.

  However, Griz seemed to be keeping a close eye on her, and she was afraid to approach anyone for fear he would put a stop to it, and scare them away. Instead, she started looking at the goods offered, deciding she was going to get the Indian dress after all, for two pelts, and that mirror, along with a comb for her hair, for one pelt. Her high top boots were worn, and Griz had told her how comfortable moccasins were. He wore high moccasins himself. So she decided to get a pair of moccasins too, which cost one pelt. She bought a couple of warm-looking Indian blankets, for two pelts apiece then got some food that would be easy to eat as she traveled, such as dried meat, pickled hardboiled eggs, crackers, tins of fish, and fresh fruit and vegetables.

  When she was finished, she had fifteen pelts left on her list. If she couldn’t get money for her hides, she still may be able to talk some trapper into letting her come along with them to Missouri, in exchange for what was left on her list of pelts she hadn’t used. Even if it was a risk, it couldn’t be any worse than staying with Griz, she thought. It was just a matter of time before he took complete advantage of her, she feared. To be on the safe side, though, she bought a small hand gun and ammunition for it, costing six pelts. Rifles cost twelve pelts, but she didn’t want to lug a large rifle with her, and her little gun would be easier to conceal so she could take anyone by surprise, who may try to harm her.

  Only she had to escape Griz’s side first, so she told him she was going to the outhouse to change her clothes into the new things she had bought, and he begrudgingly allowed her to leave, while he finished collecting his own supplies, thinking for sure, since she had no place to go, and no money to get transportation back to Missouri, she would be forced to return with him to his cabin.

  Once she dressed herself in the Indian dress and moccasins, she stuffed her old dress, petticoats, and shoes, down the outhouse hole. She looked through the small crescent-moon cutout in the door before pushing it open. Thankfully, Griz was still inside doing his trading. Mackenzie slung her gunnysack full of goods over her shoulder, and scurried along the outer wall enclosing the trading post, and headed for the gate that had been thrown open for business. She wove her way through the people, feeling self-conscious dressed as an Indian, thinking everyone would be staring at her, only they didn’t seem to notice.

  Finally, she was outside the fort walls and hurrying in the direction of the woods, intent on hiding and resting until she was sure Griz was gone and was not looking for her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Plenty Proud sat atop, Kiya Toki, (Kee-yahn Doh-kee) the cream-colored pony that was his pride and Joy. He could see the trading post up ahead, with an assortment of tepees scattered about it. There, he would find Cikala Zitkala (Chee-cah-lah Zjee-dkah-lah) waiting for him to bring her back to his village. It had been arranged, and though he was skeptical about the whole affair, even if he did not take Little Bird as his wife, he still had to bring her back for his family to adopt her. He urged Fly Away forward, giving the trusty pony a squeeze with his legs, wanting this chore to be over with. He would keep his honor by granting his mother’s wish to collect Little Bird, but that was as far as his commitment went, he told himself firmly.

  As he approached the tepee painted with the mark his mother had described to him, he slid down from his horse, calling Cikala Zitkala’s name, almost hoping she had not shown up and had decided to remain with her own Sioux clan. After a moment of anxious concern, the flap was opened, and a lovely-looking young Sioux maiden presented herself.

  “Are you Little Bird?” Plenty Proud asked, staring in unbelief at her beauty.

  She lowered her large, doe-like eyes, and nodded silently.

  “I am Ota Itan. I have come to bring you to my family,” he informed her, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice, not wanting her to know one way or the other how he felt about his first glimpse of her. His inner feelings were starting to change in leaps and bounds, though.

  “I will get my belongings,” she mumbled, ducking back into her tepee.

  Ota Itan walked a little ways from the tepee, trying to still his heart. The sight of the young maiden had surprised him, and he was beginning to believe what his mother had told him was true. Maybe he could get used to the idea of taking the lovely stranger as his wife. However, he wanted to test her character first.

  As he stood, looking out over the village, which was clustered around the trading post’s outer walls, he noticed a trapper with a mule at the top of the rise overlooking the trading post. Beside him was a white woman with flaming-red hair. He had never seen anyone with red hair like hers before, and it drew his interest. There was something else about the sight of her that grabbed him in a way he couldn’t explain, and that caught his attention as well. She had floun
ced down upon the ground. She looked tired, so they must have been walking some distance, he decided.

  The old, bearded man continued on down the rise, passing Plenty Proud without a glance. Then, suddenly, the girl jumped to her feet and started barreling down the rise after the old man. He could see in a moment that she had lost control and haphazardly started to tumble the rest of the way down the hill, landing right at his feet. His gaze took in her disheveled appearance in one quick glance. There was something about her that pulled a feeling of pity from his chest. She was dirty and unkempt, with hair that was a billowing mass of fire-filled curls that shadowed her face, as it fell over her shoulders, yet there was a beauty beneath it all that stirred his heart. When she looked up at him, her green eyes seared him in a way he had not expected. They were the deepest, emerald green color he had ever seen. He could not remember seeing anyone with green eyes like hers. Her expression was one of shock, when she looked at him and she was scrambling to get to her feet with no success.

  Plenty Proud bent down and lifted her to her feet, feeling surprised at how light she felt, and the way his hands could almost reach all the way around her waist. His eyes took in her tattered dress and the look of hopelessness hidden behind her lids as she blinked up at him. For some reason, his heart went out to her. He wanted to help her, other than put her back on her feet, but he didn’t know what kind of help she required. It was just a feeling inside of him, which had no explanation. Then, within a flash, she bolted away, following after the old trapper again.

  Plenty Proud strangely forgot his purpose for being there. His feet started after the girl without even thinking, watching her bump into the old man and exchanging words with him. She looked over her shoulder at Plenty Proud, with a frightened glance, so he smiled at her to put her at ease.