by Karen Kay
“I do not care what is thought of me.”
“But I do. Do you think that I tell you this just for myself? I fear for you. There are people who would want to hurt you if we married. And there are so many soldiers.”
Kristina couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t bear to see the look on his face.
Finally he turned her head toward him, waiting until her eyes met his, then, in sign, “Was it your intent only to dally with me? Would you rather live with this disgrace than honor our marriage?”
Kristina colored, the warm blush spreading even to the roots of her hair, but its effect was lost, for the darkness hid its potency.
“We are not truly married in the eyes of my people.”
“By the customs of my tribe, you are my wife. If you do not wish this, you have only to divorce me. It is your right.”
“Why should I end a marriage that I do not believe exists?”
“Perhaps so that I, too, am free of your influence.”
Kristina’s head shot back as though she had been slapped.
“You may not be bound by my codes, but I am,” he continued. “If you do not wish this marriage, you have merely to say so.”
Suddenly Kristina could no longer endure her nudity as she sat before her lover. More than anything she wished she could clothe herself and unconsciously, she folded her arms over her breasts.
“Just tell me,” he continued in sign. “There are no consequences. I will say no word of what has occurred between us. But I will not sanction this affair,” he said the word out loud, “between us. You deserve better.”
Kristina watched his motions, graceful and smooth. And though his face showed nothing, Kristina could feel his pain and was shocked to realize that he showed no animosity; even in anger he protected her. What was she throwing away?
Just the same, she knew what she must do. She looked away. “I divorce you.” She spoke in English.
He turned her face back toward him.
“Do not speak only in your language. You must say it so that I understand.”
“Why can we not have an affair?” she signed with her hands, and implored with her eyes.
Tahiska sighed. He shook his head.
“Is your society so backward that it would sanction love between us without the commitment of marriage? In my culture I would bring you great insult if we were to love without a union between us. I cannot bring myself to do this to you. If you wish to share my love, you must marry me. If you cannot marry me, you have only to say so. I will never divulge our secret. It is up to you.”
Kristina lowered her head. Images flashed before her—her mother, her father, Julia. Tahiska wouldn’t stop at just the symbol of marriage. She knew he would demand that she live with him and she couldn’t. Nor would she be allowed to.
“Where do you live?”
If the question caught him off guard, he didn’t show it. He only looked at her oddly before wrestling himself out of the buffalo robe. He reached for his knife and, squatting down in front of her, drew some symbols on the ground, using his knife as one might a pen on paper.
But Kristina barely noticed. Her gaze centered upon his naked form, and she thought it odd that he should so resemble a Greek god.
He glanced up at Kristina, pointing to his drawings, then looked down again. “This is where we are—the fort.”
He drew a wavy line upwards. “This is the great river, the Muddy. This,” he said, drawing a large circle, “is the land of the Lakota. These are our hunting grounds. Sometimes, we camp here.” He pointed. “Sometimes we winter here in the hills.” He looked up to catch her gaze on him. “You will be welcome in my camp. Do you worry over this? Do not concern yourself. That I have married you will be enough. You will be welcome.” He set his knife aside and joined her once again beneath the buffalo robe.
“Then you do not plan to stay long at the fort?”
“Only until my business is concluded.”
“And when will that be?”
He held up his little finger. “One moon. Maybe two.”
Kristina sighed. “So long?”
“I am on tribal business.”
“I cannot live with you,” she signed, without preamble.
“Then divorce me, so that I, too, can be free.”
“I cannot.”
Tahiska set his mouth, his chin raised. “So you will not admit to our marriage, yet I am stuck with it?”
“We are not married.”
“You are my wife!”
“I have not said the words!”
“Then you have only to divorce me!”
She hesitated. She glared at him, then glanced away. What difference did it really make? Whether she divorced him or simply didn’t admit to the marriage, the result was the same. No one from her church need ever know and at least if she divorced him, it would be fairer to Tahiska. Finally, she signed, “I divorce you.”
“You must throw me away.”
“What?”
“You must throw what is mine out of your life.”
“I can’t. I…” Kristina shifted her weight uneasily, unable to go on. Tahiska, furious, threw the buffalo robe from his shoulders, and picking up his bow and quiver, rose in a swift motion. He glared at her before he strode silently from the camp.
Kristina lay down. Tears gathered in her eyes, and though she pulled the buffalo robe around her and tucked it in, she missed Tahiska’s presence and his body heat. What was she doing? He was wonderful. She was being unfair. But what could she do? If anyone at the fort ever discovered what had occurred between them, Tahiska would be killed. She was sure of it.
Kristina lay back suddenly, her body stiff. She hadn’t told him of the danger they faced tomorrow. She’d been so distracted, she hadn’t warned Tahiska that her father would hunt for her through the night; with many soldiers, he would search for her. And if he found her with Tahiska…
Kristina rolled onto her side. She stared into the darkness and wondered where Tahiska hid. She would wait up for his return, and then she would warn him. She would plead with him to take her back to the fort until he gave in to her request from sheer exasperation. She must.
Tahiska had not gone far. Safe as he felt their camp was, he would not leave Kristina unprotected.
From the shadows nearby he watched her lie down and tuck the buffalo robe in around her. He was glad that Kristina had the robe to ward off the chill. He had been wise to leave the garment in his place.
As he gazed at her, he wondered if she feared loving him too much. He knew of people who refused love, who were afraid to give their heart completely, but such people merely existed. Life bleeds; it sweats; it takes risks. Was it this that Kristina shunned? It would explain much.
He wanted marriage. She wanted an affair, something short-lived, implying no strong feelings and carrying with it the most degrading sentiments within society. Did Kristina truly desire this from him? He couldn’t do it to her. He loved her too much.
Why wouldn’t she divorce him? Even though she had said the words, she wouldn’t throw him away, severing what was between them forever. But perhaps this was good. If she divorced him completely, wasn’t she ending any chance he had with her?
Tahiska sat very still for several minutes.
An affair? He squeezed his eyes shut. Could he pretend he didn’t care? Could he carry on a relationship for sex only? Tahiska ignored the pain gnawing at his insides as he had been taught to do. He would endure this misery. If an affair was what she wanted, he would try. He doubted it would work; but he would try.
He opened his eyes, unaware of the wetness that fell to his cheeks.
It was when he glimpsed her shoulders shaking and heard her muffled sob that Tahiska catapulted toward her.
Lifting the buffalo robe, he lay down beside her and took her in his arms. As her tears fell onto his shoulders, he thought he would die inside. Despite it all, the last thing he meant to do was hurt her.
He brought her face towa
rd his and kissed the trail of each tear, while his fingers massaged her neck.
“Kristina, my wife,” he said in Lakota. “Do not cry. I was angry for only a moment.” As his fingertips touched her face, he wished with all his heart that she could speak his language. There was so much he would tell her. He brought his right fist to his breast and, throwing it out and down, opening his palm, he signaled to her the significance of his words.
Kristina looked up at him. Even in the darkness he could see her misery and he tried to tell her with his eyes alone of his deep love for her. She trailed her fingertips over his cheek, to his neck, and down, lower over his breast. At his quick intake of breath, she repeated the gesture, bringing him immense pleasure. It was good, her touch making him realize that she, too, felt great passion for him.
Finally, she broke it off, bringing her right hand toward her left breast. “I fear for you,” she signed. “Whether we are married or divorced, be assured that my father and other soldiers will not take kindly to my staying with you through the night. It is imperative that you take me back to the fort, tonight even. Do you not understand that there is a feeling amongst my people that your race is not as good as ours? No one will sanction a marriage between us, no one will understand an affair, and certainly no one will allow my staying the night with you without harming you in some way. You must take me back.”
“You once said that you loved me. Do you still?” He let the question hang between them.
Kristina stared at him. “Have you not understood my signs? I am concerned for your life and you speak of love?” Inflamed, her gestures were brisk. “I love you still, but I will not marry you.”
He breathed deeply, not showing any reaction before he gazed at her directly. “I will take you back. But not tonight. We are safe here for a time. In the morning I will return you to your people. And I do not fear your soldiers. Did you think that I would?”
“There are so many of them.”
“It makes little difference. If you wanted to stay, I would fight them, but if you want to return, I will escort you safely. Do not worry. I could easily fight ten of your warriors.”
Tahiska was bewildered when his assurances did not immediately stem the flow of her tears. In fact, she cried more.
Tenderly he gathered her into his arms. He tried to kiss away each tear, but there were too many. Finally, his lips settled over hers in a kiss that was meant to give comfort. But the love between them was strong and the kiss grew passionate. The salty taste of her tears remained on his tongue as he set her slightly away. “I will try to do as you desire, but do not fault me if I find the deception beyond me,” he spoke in Lakota, then switched to sign. “Tonight we will rest. Wakan Tanka will guide me in my dreams.” He smoothed his fingers over her brow. “Do not worry.”
He smiled and pushed her down upon her back. “All will be well,” he said in Lakota as he leaned over her. “You will see.”
His lips claimed hers, their touch as potent as a gypsy’s brew, and they made love as though there might not be a tomorrow.
Tahiska awoke in the darkness just before dawn. His eyes scanned the distant horizon, while he listened for any telltale sign of an enemy. Sensing nothing unusual, he shifted his weight. The fire was just a glowing ember and the sounds that accompanied the start of each morning had yet to begin. Kristina slept in his arms, her limbs entwined with his.
Ah, Kristina! He frowned. He hoped she would not be sore. Whether from love or frustration, they both had been unable to satiate their need, and they had made love throughout the night, catching only snatches of sleep. He knew of a salve that would take away her pain. He would make this remedy and press it against her so she would not feel pain from their lovemaking.
He trailed kisses over her hair, and disentangling his limbs from hers, he rose. He stretched and headed toward the creek to bathe and to say his morning prayers.
Kristina awakened to the sight of male perfection bending over her. She feigned sleep so she could watch Tahiska, admiring his figure and his grace. As he disappeared in the direction of the creek, she had a hard time keeping her gaze from his backside, slim and defined. She stretched. After all their physical exercise, she had slept well. And her body ached in wonderfully secret places. She smiled as though she had no cares and snuggled deeper into the buffalo robe.
When next she awoke, the eastern sky was awash in red, lending a hazy light to the landscape. The touch of the morning air was soft and the fragrance of a hundred grasses and flowers perfumed the gentle breeze. Tahiska knelt beside her, the reddish glow of the sun a backdrop for his handsomeness.
He was gently spreading a cold salve between her legs. He hadn’t yet noticed that she was awake and she took this moment to admire him. His hair was wet and hung down his back. His skin was clean and scented with prairie grass. Except for his breechcloth and moccasins he was naked, and Kristina longed to touch him. In his hand he held a mixture resembling mud, and Kristina spread her legs slightly to accommodate him since she had already noted the soothing mud eased her pain.
Tahiska suddenly looked towards her. They both smiled.
“You will be sore,” he signed. “This will help the pain.”
“Thank you,” she said in English. “I love you, Tahiska, and I’m sorry.”
Though she knew he couldn’t understand what she said, the intention must have been conveyed, for he smiled warmly at her before he continued applying the salve. At length he finished and pulled the buffalo robe around her. He handed her his knife.
“I must hunt.” His hands motioned the signs. “Do not fear to use this if you need to. I will be gone but a short while.”
Kristina nodded.
Tahiska looked at her. His gaze held hers, demanding she stare back.
Kristina looked away, but Tahiska forced her gaze back to him. “Did you enjoy our lovemaking?”
Kristina smiled and nodded.
Tahiska sat for awhile unmoved. Finally, he signed, “Good, then I hope that you will remember it well. For it may be all that you will have of me.” He gestured toward the knife he had pushed into her hand. “I must hunt.”
He glanced at her quickly, then shouldering his bow and quiver, he moved silently from their camp.
The Indian had been groomed since birth to the hunt. No tribe could survive without ten to twelve excellent hunters in their midst. No man could be a good husband if he didn’t provide plenty of food.
It was not in the Indian’s character to pillage the land of its resources. He took only what he needed and left the rest as he had found it. Thus, the hunt was a necessary venture every day.
Daybreak was the best time to capture game. It was also the most likely time for hostile tribes to attack, making it doubly imperative to rise early.
Besides, Tahiska loved this hour of the day best of all. His mind at this time was usually clear of encumbrances and left him free to let his thoughts wander.
Crouching down upon the prairie to examine an animal print, Tahiska considered what Kristina had told him of the white man. Did he not want happiness for his children? Would prejudice and hatred blind the white man to the sufferings of his own loved ones?
In Indian villages, even when a couple stole away to marry ill feelings were nonexistent. The parents of the newlyweds would almost always welcome the couple back into the camp and harmony would be restored once more to the tribe. What Kristina demanded was unfathomable to him. Yet he knew he would try.
And while he felt no threat from the fort and its soldiers, he was bothered by a thought that had come to him in his dreams. While pursuing the white men who killed his father, wouldn’t his life be in constant danger? Not that Tahiska feared death. He had been taught since birth that death was as natural as life itself. It was so much better to die in honor than just to exist.
But Kristina had said she would be branded if her marriage to him were known. She had told him the white man would act as though their union had not even occurred. Yet, she wou
ld be a virgin no longer and all would know of it.
Even in his own tribe, if a girl submitted to a boy without marriage, she was marked as promiscuous for the rest of her days. This was one of the many reasons Tahiska had insisted upon marriage with Kristina. He would bring her no shame.
But if he were truthful with the white man, would he bring disgrace upon Kristina with her own people?
If he died in pursuit of his revenge, would her own people shun her, no longer accepting her amongst them?
Wakan Tanka had put these thoughts into his dreams. He could not ignore them.
There was only one solution. And though he was loath to do it, it would create a more secure future for Kristina.
Tahiska straightened and listened for the sound of the animal he was tracking. He had made his decision, and thus resolved, he was free to stalk this game.
He glanced around, and on silent feet, advanced in the direction of his prey.
It was still early morning when Tahiska returned to camp.
Kristina had bathed and was dressed in his shirt instead of her own ivory gown.
This pleased him very much. Her hair hung down her back in wet strands and her cheeks shone with a rosy glow.
She greeted him with a shy glance. He returned the look, and dropping his game next to the fire, he knelt beside her.
“Nihwa hwo?” he asked, then translated in sign, “Are you tired?”
“Hiya,” she answered, with a shake of her head, then asked in his own language, “Nihwa hwo?”
He smiled. “Hiya.”
He lifted the golden strands of her hair, his fingers running over the waves, easing through the tangles. A smile crept onto his lips. He held a lock to the sun, watching closely as the golden highlights shimmered. Ah, his Kristina. She was such good medicine.
“We will eat and I will take you back.”
Kristina nodded. He sensed her uncertainty with this situation, not knowing how to act around him, feeling unsure of herself. He wanted to take her in his arms until her shyness passed, yet he was just as reluctant to do it. He hoped she was considering all he had said to her and would realize all she had to lose. He had told her it may be all that you will have of me. Did she fear that may be true?
