Red Hawk's Woman

by Karen Kay

  “Yes.”

  “And was your father there to try to discover clues about the Lost Clan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he find anything?”

  She frowned. “Let us adjourn this conversation until tomorrow evening, shall we?”

  “I am not asking you to tell me what it is you seek. I am only wondering if your father found something in that long-ago time.”

  She hesitated, and he watched as a multitude of thoughts were displayed upon her countenance. At some length, she told him, “My father did find something which made him believe the legend is true. And this is the reason I am here. I seek to learn the truth of the legend. This is why I am going back to the area where you and I first met—myself and my colleagues will look for…things in the hope we will find a clue about the existence of the Lost Clan.”

  “These things your father found that you are searching for, are they prized much by the white man?”

  “They could be. We are being financially supported in our quest by a museum in the East. Most of the things we find will belong to them.”

  “But not all? Aa, now I understand.” He nodded.

  “Understand what?” She straightened her spine and sat forward. “Do you think I am some fortune hunter? That I am only here to add to my wealth, not to discover the truth?”

  “I did not say this to you.”

  “Well, let me tell you, Mr. Hawk, I am an archaeologist, like my father and my mother before me. I do not go on these expeditions to find things, only to collect them. Nor am I a fortune seeker, hoping to locate something I might sell to the highest bidder. My interest is in the truth.”

  “I did not accuse you of anything.”

  “No, but you inferred it.”

  “I do not know this word, inferred.”

  “It means to imply something—to say something is so without directly stating it.”

  With eyes narrowed, he scrutinized her, from the top of her head to the very tip of her chin, as though looking could probe the secret she carried.

  To her credit she said nothing, nor did she flinch under the heat of his gaze.

  At last, he spoke. “And so your father’s work is continued through you?”

  “Yes.” Her chin lifted into the air.

  Again, he stated nothing, but he was aware that his staring at her was hardly comforting. He finally said, “Soka’pii, it is good.”

  “I’m so glad you approve,” she stated, though the tone of her voice insinuated the exact opposite.

  He wanted to laugh at her, for she looked so stubborn and yet so forlorn. Indeed, at this moment, he thought she resembled a rabbit, staring up into the eyes of a wolf. Unfortunately for him, he was that wolf.

  “You are frightened,” he told her, “especially after what happened a few nights ago. And because you do not understand why I am here, asking you these questions, you fear for your safety, even with me. I only hope you will give me a chance to prove myself to you.”

  “I hope so too.” She rose to her knees. “Now if you will excuse me, I must get back to my hotel. The others will wonder about me.”

  When she made to get to her feet, he did not stop her. Instead, he gave her one quick nod.

  “Thank you for combing my hair.” She smiled as if to ease the tension between them. “I could all too easily become accustomed to such things.”

  That smile was his undoing. Was she some sort of enchantress that she could ensnare him with an action so simple?

  He wanted to get lost in that grin, to bask in it. Moreover he longed to spend more time with her, wanted the rest of the world to go away when he was with her. He swallowed hard. “You are most beautiful when you smile.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but even she seemed at a loss for words, and her lips, now parted, looked inviting.

  He cleared his throat, started to say something, but had second thoughts.

  She mumbled, “I never forgot you.”

  “Nor I, you. I waited for you that day.”

  “And I came back to that pool day after day,” she confessed. “You never returned.”

  “I was gone from that country by then.”

  “Gone? But I thought you lived there.”

  What could he say that she might understand? Certainly not the truth.

  Not knowing what to tell her and what not to, he simply gazed at her. At length, however, he uttered, “I, too, have my secrets. Perhaps tomorrow evening we will unburden ourselves.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I would touch you, if you would let me.”

  Shyly, her gaze locked on to his. “Would you? How?”

  What was she suggesting? He closed his eyes briefly. Swamped by a craving to know every little thing about her, he tried to speak. Nothing happened.

  For lack of knowing what else to do, he brought his hand to her cheek, smoothing the backs of his fingers down toward her neck. With the action, desire, hot and urgent, raced through him. Her skin was soft, delicate, fragrant with femininity. He swallowed. “It’s not enough.”

  “What?”

  “I thought a simple touch would be plenty—that it would last me…several days. I was wrong. It’s not enough.”

  She shut her eyes then slowly drew in toward him. Her lips parted, she swallowed and she whispered, “Then how else would you touch me? That is, if you could?”

  Did she, too, want more? The thought sent him quietly out of his mind. “Perhaps I might stroke you like this.” Bending, he brought his cheek to hers. “Or maybe like this,” he mumbled, as he wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. Haiya, he needed to feel her flesh against his.

  But it was not to be. It could never be.

  He should let her go. He would let her go.

  And then from out of nowhere came her words. “Do you kiss?”

  “Of course I kiss.” Hardly able to believe he was having this conversation with her, he tried to gulp down the lump that had formed in his throat. “Are you going to let me kiss you?”

  She murmured, “You might try it and see.”

  He lowered his head; she lifted hers. Gently, his lips sought the silky texture of her mouth, and he thought that pleasure might surely burst within him.

  Everything about her was right—the way her lips fit against his, the clean taste of her breath. He hungered to know more of her.

  She groaned. The sound excited him, and in reaction to it, he thought he might explode.

  He nipped at her lips once, again, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, teasing her, testing her. How much of this could he take before he demanded more?

  She leaned in toward him, and he caught her, pulling her closer yet. But he didn’t continue his foray of her. Instead he brought her body in as near as he possibly could—given the fullness of her swimming attire—and hugged her. “I have dreamed of doing this from the moment I first saw you.”

  It was her turn to gasp, as though she couldn’t quite breathe in sufficient oxygen. “Now or back then?”

  “Both. But neither has been a good time for us. Back then we were too young, and now we have secrets from one another.”

  He set her away from him, but he couldn’t let her go completely, and the backs of his fingers came up to smooth over her cheek. Downward he caressed, toward her neck.

  He knew what he should do, what he should suggest. He only hoped he had the courage to do it, to say it.

  Do not be lured by matters of the flesh.

  White Claw’s words echoed in Red Hawk’s mind. But was this a simple matter of the flesh? Red Hawk argued with himself. Or was this more?

  Deep within himself, he knew the answer, as surely as he knew his heart. After a few moments, he gulped down air and summoned his nerve. “We should marry.”

  Chapter Ten

 
“What?” She backed away from him.

  He knew he had surprised her. Yet it was the only thing that made sense, the only thing they could do if they were to be in each other’s constant company. Otherwise, how could they keep a firm hold on their integrity?

  He tried to explain further. “I want more than a kiss or a hug from you. I am not permitted more than this unless we marry. Please, marry me, spend your life with me.”

  She moved even farther away. “I…I…am flabbergasted.”

  “I do not know this word.”

  “It means that you have taken me off my guard. We have only kissed.”

  “So far,” he elaborated. “But I know if I am around you—and I will be in the near future—I will find reasons to be with you, hold you, and before long, I will try to make you mine. I know that I will. You know that I will.”

  “Mr. Hawk, I do believe I might have something to say about whether or not I will respond to you.”

  “Aa, I am sure you would. But look at us, here, now. You know it would take little on my part to convince you to lay with me.”

  “Whoa. You go too far.”

  “That is what I fear, and so I think we must do the honorable thing. We must marry.”

  “I…I…”

  He knew there were many reasons why what he proposed was not wise. Possibly, it was the most impossible thing he had ever considered—for himself, for her. Yet, he would not take it back. He meant it.

  “No one else need ever know,” he said, as though to solve a problem as yet unspoken, “unless you wish to tell. For, as I understand it, the white world might frown upon such a union. Even my people would do so. You and I already have many secrets from one another, but let us now share one between us instead.”

  She backed away still farther. “You move too fast, Mr. Hawk.”

  “But I must. Soon we will be spending a good deal of time with one another. Let us look to that time now, and do what we can to make it honorable. For I believe we will be together, married or not.”

  “You don’t understand. I cannot marry you. I have come into this country for one reason alone, and that is to excavate the site of this dig, and I—” All at once, she broke off. Her eyes opened wide, and as he stared at her, there came a tormented look about her.

  And he knew: What she had had voiced wasn’t true…not entirely.

  He said, as though to ease her situation, “I will help you to accomplish that which you are here to do.”

  “No, you can’t. It is something I have to do on my own.”

  He nodded gently. “I, too, have a great task set before me, and it is one I cannot share with you. But we should take action now so that we might keep the honor between us. As I have already said, we are soon to be in one another’s company, and if your feelings are similar to mine, there could be a problem.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “My heart tells me that you might care for me. Do you?”

  She remained mute, and her gaze fell to the ground.

  He continued speaking as though she had answered him, and in the positive. “Knowing you are not immune to me, I can only foresee that I will press it, even if I try not to.”

  “But…marriage?” She glanced up at him, her eyes still wide. “What do we really know of each other?”

  His fingers grazed down her cheek, trailing over her neck. “That we share a passion. Many who have married on short acquaintance have married for less.”

  “Well, that’s not me.” She looked away from him. “If I do find that which I seek, I will need to return to the East, for I have obligations there. I doubt if you would like to go there.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps, then, we could marry, but make it easy for you to leave, if you chose to go.”

  “You mean to marry for the moment only?”

  “Saa, no. When you would again return to this country, we would still be married.”

  “And you think that would work?”

  He shrugged.

  “What would you do in the time between when I was here and when I returned? It might be several years.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Don’t Indian men take more than one wife?”

  “Sometimes they do,” he said, “but not always.”

  “And are you already married, Mr. Hawk?”

  “Saa, I am not.” Although he was fairly certain he knew the answer, he asked, “Are you?”

  “No. But what if you were to marry while I was gone? I would not be able to stay with you, for in my culture, a man may take only one wife at a time.”

  “That would be difficult, I agree. Would you rather we separate altogether, if you go back East?”

  “I will go back East.”

  “And I cannot come with you?”

  “You could, but I do not think you would like it there. Besides, isn’t it the woman’s place to stay wherever her man is?”

  The comment struck him as odd, and he countered, “Why should she?”

  “Don’t Indian men demand this?”

  “Of course not. A woman is the heart of our Nation. If she is not happy in one place, perhaps another might be better. The Blackfeet have a saying, ‘Mat’-ah-kwi tam-ap-i-ni-o-ke-mi-o-sin.’ Not found is happiness without woman.”

  Lips open, she stared at him.

  “We could agree,” he advised, “that if you wish it, when you leave, our marriage will dissolve.”

  “Then the marriage wouldn’t be real, would it? Since we both know that I will return East?”

  “It will be real. I will simply not require you to stay if you wish to leave. That is, so long as you are not with child.”

  She swallowed, her throat muscles constricting before she said, “And what if you don’t wish to remain with me?”

  “That will not happen.”

  “But let’s say that it does. In my world when people marry, they stay married. It is a life sentence, so to speak.”

  “I understand. In my village, people usually stay married also, but it is not frowned upon if both people find this hard to do. Sometimes these things happen. So no one will look down on you if you decided to marry me but then leave me.”

  She shook her head, and he decided to take another tack. “If you cannot answer me now, consider it, think on it and give me your decision tomorrow night. As you have allowed me time to consider the good and the bad of these things, so too must I grant the same to you.”

  She moaned. “I don’t need time. I know what my answer must be. But very well, tomorrow night we will discuss it again. Now I really must go. Already the sky is turning pink in the east. I have other duties.”

  She rose, and gazing down on him, she said, “Till tomorrow night,” and departed.

  Yawning and rubbing her eyes, Effie sat up and came slowly awake. What was this? Had she actually fallen asleep in the chair where she’d been working?

  Where was he?

  It was her first thought. Hadn’t Red Hawk agreed to be here tonight?

  Her second concern was that she felt…odd, as though she had been drugged. Perhaps it was the wine she had shared with her colleagues before retiring. Certainly, she was unused to strong drink.

  Effie glanced around the tiny room to get her bearings. After retiring to her room, she had positioned herself next to the window, intending to work while she awaited Red Hawk’s arrival. Beside her, on a small table, was a candle, the room’s only lighting.

  Effie stretched up her arms and ran a hand over her forehead. It must be late, she decided—much too late to be awake and sitting in a chair. Why had she ever agreed to this secret rendezvous with a man she barely knew?

  Intending to rise and dress for bed, Effie leaned over and blew out the candle. Immediately, two things happened. Her legs felt strange, as though she couldn’t move them, and on the far
side of the room came the unmistakable sound of material scraping across the wooden floor. Looking up, Effie witnessed a dark shadow glide toward her.

  “Mr. Hawk?” she called out.

  There was no answer. She frowned. Shouldn’t he have said something?

  Adrenaline pumped through her body. He would have answered, were it he who had slithered just now into the shadows.

  She tried again. “Who is it?”

  Silence.

  She attempted to come to her feet. She couldn’t. She felt like she had been tied.

  Tied?

  Then she heard it, the quiet motion of a shadow as it drew closer to where she sat.

  With her heart beating so swiftly she could hear it in her ears, she called out again, “Who are you?” though her voice was no more than a whisper.

  Silence was her response.

  It couldn’t be Red Hawk, for he would make himself known. She was certain of that.

  With this knowledge came a barrage of thoughts, each more frightening than the last. If not Red Hawk, then who was it? Her assailant of a few nights past? Was she to be assaulted yet again?

  Instinctively, Effie knew she must get to her feet, but she couldn’t. Twisting slightly, silently, she found her answer quickly. She had indeed been tied. Not only were her feet bound, but the lower part of her body was lashed to the chair.

  Terror washed through her, and involuntarily she screamed. Straightaway, a hand covered her mouth, replaced momentarily by a hanky, while her hands were jerked in front of her and tied.

  A knife was shoved against her ribs. Effie shut her eyes, certain this was truly the end.

  A gravelly, low-pitched voice said, “Where are they?” Effie endeavored to say something, but it was a difficult thing to do when gagged. Again that odd voice said, “I will remove this hanky, but you are not to cry out. Just tell me where they are.”

  He took the hanky away, and although Effie had not intended it, instinct took over. She screamed, and she screamed and she kept on screaming, her voice high-pitched and deafening. Acting on impulse to avoid being butchered, she forced the chair sideways, away from her aggressor, bracing herself for the fall.

  She heard the knife drop.