by Karen Kay
Removing his hat, the major wiped the perspiration from his brow.
He was alone. He had scowled at Kristina’s advice, yet the more he considered it, the more sound her reasoning became. If he treated the incident as a family matter, perhaps he could save the fort from being propelled into an Indian war.
Thus, he had made his preparations. He would meet the Indian one on one. Tahiska, White Buffalo, was an intelligent man. The major was hopeful that if a parley could be arranged, this whole mess could be forgotten.
He sat forward on his horse and inspected the horizon. Nothing. Not a single sign of human life. Muttering incoherently to himself, the major turned his horse west.
He hadn’t gone more than a half hour’s ride when he discerned the mounted figure alone atop a distant swell in the prairie landscape. The major exhaled a quick breath in relief. Hope leaped within him. White Buffalo was willing to talk. Approaching the Indian, the major grew uneasy. From a distance, he hadn’t noticed Tahiska’s appearance. Drawing closer, the major realized the Indian wore nothing but a breechcloth and moccasins. His knife belt was strapped to his waist, his quiver and shield were slung across his back, and in his hands were bow and lance.
His face was painted for war, and it was this fact alone that made the major want to twist around and hurl himself towards the fort. But the Indian sat atop a strong, spirited pony, and the major knew in a single glance that his own horse would stand no chance in a race against the fine animal.
As the major drew closer still, Tahiska set his pony into a series of concentric circles. He bore the animal close to the major and retreated. It was the language of the mounted warrior, and in it he expressed his willingness to parley.
As if by mutual consent, both men dismounted and hobbled their horses.
The major swept his hands up and out over and over, ending with his right hand sweeping outward from his mouth. He had just wished the warrior a pleasant afternoon and had asked if it weren’t a good day to talk.
Tahiska nodded and indicated a seat for the major. The Indian had formed, by cropping the grass short, a small circle. In the center of it he had placed several buffalo chips and dried grass. Tahiska struck a spark to the chips. A flame leaped upwards and the Indian nursed the fire until only a small, hot blaze burned.
Tahiska positioned himself directly across from the soldier and, with a fluidity of motion, sat down.
He lit his red stone pipe with a buffalo chip after presenting it first to the north, the south, the east, and west. Taking a few puffs, he passed it to the major.
Major Bogard understood the sacredness of the pipe. No ceremony was ever commenced without it, and its presence alone on a battlefield would cause all to lay down their weapons.
He took a puff and returned the pipe back to its owner.
The major scrutinized Tahiska. His hair was unbound and left hanging down his back. There was a section of his hair cropped short in front. It was the first time the major had noted this. It meant the Indian grieved for a loved one.
He stared into the intelligent, black eyes. The Indian’s face was painted black, with only two white streaks down his cheeks. And despite himself, the major shivered.
“My wife,” Major Bogard began, “has brought insult upon you. For this I feel bad. My wife was crazy with worry for our daughter. Never before has our daughter failed to return from a ride on the plains. We both feared for her life. I spent my day yesterday searching for her. Had I known she was with you, I would not have worried. Kristina,” he spoke her name amidst the sign motions, “my daughter, has told us of how you rescued her upon the plains when her horse lost his footing. She told us of your kindness. It is with a heavy heart that I learned that your generosity was met with dishonor from my wife. I hope that you are a man who can understand the weaknesses of others and it is with this in mind that I seek council with you.”
With this signed, the major returned his hands to his sides and waited. And as he looked into the warrior’s face, he could only hope that this young man carried a wisdom far older than his age.
Tahiska nodded, holding himself rigidly to ensure he exhibited no outward signs of his confoundment. His head was reeling. He understood all that the major had signed, but most of it had made little impression. His attention was struck by this fact: Kristina had lied.
Time passed. Still, Tahiska said nothing.
The major grew uneasy, and sitting forward he signed, “It was wrong to imprison you. It was the action of a woman sick with worry for her child. Surely you can understand the irrationality of an upset mother. Know this. It was her action alone. None of us at the fort are upset with you. You are welcome there. I have brought you several gifts to show you my sincerity. And if you will allow it, I will purchase for you a full week of supplies at the trading post. You may choose there whatever you need, and I will pay the trader for all your purchases.”
Tahiska flicked a finger to indicate he understood.
He waited. At length he became satisfied that the major had no more to say.
“It is good that you have come to me,” the Indian signed. “The love of a parent for a child is strong and binding. I can grasp why your wife acted as she did. What I do not understand is why your soldiers fought me. I did nothing to them. It is against these soldiers that I go on the warpath. I am not at war with your wife. I will not harm women and children. You have spoken well for your family. But what of your soldiers? Am I to be thrust about each time a woman scowls? Is my honor to be smeared because a woman gossips?”
Major Bogard paused. Tahiska watched him, noting several things: the deepening flush spreading over the major’s face and neck, the man’s hands nervously fiddling with the kerchief at his throat, the twitch of muscles along his cheek. At last the major started, “The soldiers believed, as did my wife, that you had harmed my daughter and brought shame to her as only a man can. That is why you were attacked.”
Tahiska leaped to his feet. Fury cut through him like lightning. And it was several moments before he was able to contain his anger.
“Did I not tell you I would watch over your daughter? You believe I would dishonor her in this manner?”
The major followed the young warrior to his feet.
“I have never thought so. But my wife was a little crazy and told this to the soldiers. Please, sit down, my young friend. I trust you.”
Tahiska ignored the invitation. “In my village,” Tahiska signed, “a man seeks his visions alone. Sometimes we hunt alone. Young couples will steal away and when they return to the village, the men and the couples are all allowed to talk before any action is taken. Had I been a white man returning with your daughter, would my reception have been different?”
The major paused, his hesitation telling Tahiska more than language could have that had the Indian’s skin been a few shades lighter, his reception would have been considerably different. Several moments passed before Major Bogard attempted an answer. “My friend,” he started, then stopped, his hands held midair. He tried again, “My friend…”
“We will sit, I think,” Tahiska signed. “There is no need to speak. I already know your thoughts.” The major heaved what sounded like a heartfelt sigh, and Tahiska knew he had been wise to spare the major the effort of replying.
Both squatting upon the ground, they talked of general things: of the weather, of the coming of autumn. Both avoided the subject under negotiation.
“I am not at war with your wife or your family,” Tahiska at length directed the council back onto the business of war. “I seek revenge only upon those soldiers who threw me, without counsel or advice, into the room of no escape. Only on those who sought to harm me. And upon the one who slapped Kristina.”
“One of the men hit my daughter?”
Tahiska nodded. “Did your daughter not tell you this?”
“She told me nothing of it.”
“I will have that one’s scalp.”
Major Bogard winced, and Tahiska, seeing
it, pressed advantage. “You must see now that I have no other choice but to seek revenge.”
“No, my friend. I do not agree. I am asking you to trust me,” Major Bogard signed, his gestures careful. “The men who did these things will be disciplined. I promise you this: The man who hit my daughter will be flogged. These men committed crimes against you. By the laws of my country, these are offenses our army will not abide. We have ways of reprimanding the men who committed these crimes. I will see to their punishment myself. But let us not, you and I, go to war because of the petty crimes of a few of my soldiers. Let me punish my men. Let us, you and I, make our peace and be friends. And you could attend to the business for which you sought out our fort. I would be honored to call you friend.”
Tahiska stared across the circle of their council to his father-in-law. The older man’s eyes were direct and the Indian saw nothing there to indicate betrayal. Yet, he was hard-pressed to give up his revenge. He had been born and raised a warrior, and instinct demanded that the matter be settled with the scalps of the white men hanging from his belt. And yet, if he followed these drives, would he not alienate the father of his wife?
So it was not with a lightness of heart that Tahiska at last decided to entrust the punishment of the soldiers to the major.
“It is because of my regard for your daughter,” Tahiska signed, “that I will trust to you the punishment of these men. Were it not for Kristina, their scalps would hang from my belt by evening and I would dance my joy that their spirits would at last meet their eternal fate. But I would ask that the one who hit your daughter be dealt with severely. For if he is not, I may yet seek a personal revenge.”
“I promise you that I will see to their fate and they will all be dealt with severely.”
The Indian nodded. “It is agreed.”
They talked again of lighthearted matters until at length, Tahiska turned the subject to one dear to his heart.
“Your daughter has been my interpreter when I trade. I wish this to remain so.”
The major nodded. “I have no desire to change that. She has served us both well. It was her idea that I search you out to counsel. Will you not come with me now to the fort? There is the matter of the supplies I have promised you. I will also need you to identify the men who assaulted both you and my daughter. We will talk more there.”
Tahiska nodded. “It is agreed.”
The two men rose. They shook hands, one Indian, one white. Tahiska couldn’t help wondering whether the major’s attitude toward him would change if he knew he shook the hand of his son-in-law.
Chapter Ten
“You lied!”
Kristina quickly glanced over her shoulder to see if she and Tahiska were being observed.
A slight flush spread over her cheeks.
“I had to!”
“And how many times have you had to lie to me?”
Kristina could just barely follow Tahiska’s sign movements. When he was upset, his motions were almost too quick for her to interpret.
“I have never lied to you.”
“How do I know you speak the truth? Even in this? The forked tongue comes too easily to you.”
“Did you want me to bring my father’s wrath upon you?”
“I would live with the truth.”
Kristina brought her gaze up to meet that of her lover’s. There was still a trace of paint upon his face, and Kristina shivered to think just how closely a war had loomed between them. And which side would she have been on? Kristina thrust the thought away. She had been saved from making a choice.
“We cannot tell my people the truth. You know this.”
“I did not ever suggest that you lie.”
“Did you tell my father about us, then?”
Kristina surveyed Tahiska. He stood before her practically naked. His breechcloth did little to hide his body from her view, and despite his anger, it was with an extreme effort that she resisted reaching out to touch him.
Kristina quickly scanned their surroundings to ensure no one from the fort observed them.
“I want your solemn vow that you will never lie to me. Think well on this. And do not give your answer lightly. I will not see you tonight.”
Her gaze snapped to his.
“Tahiska!”
“We will meet upon the plains tomorrow. I will have your answer then.”
He didn’t spare another glance at her. He spun away from her and marched toward the trading post. He did not invite her to accompany him. And Kristina didn’t even attempt to follow.
She had not expected his anger. Only hours earlier, she had been pleased with herself, for her suggestion had been the first step to deflecting a war.
She had expected a warm greeting. Instead she had been met with an icy glare and hadn’t until this moment understood why.
She watched from afar as her father joined Tahiska within the trading post. The two men greeted each other as friends, and for a moment Kristina experienced a wave of jealousy.
It was she who deserved Tahiska’s friendship. It was she who had never wavered from her loyalty to him.
Tahiska was being unjust.
Anger replaced all other feelings, and turning upon her heel, Kristina stomped to her room.
“Please, Julia, I need your help.”
“Kristina, look at me.” Julia set her needlework aside. “I’m comfortable. I’ve set this day aside to work on my dress. The trade wagon will be returning soon and I want something new to wear to the celebration. Why don’t you bring some material down and work on a new gown for yourself?”
“I can’t.”
“I’m sorry, Kristina.” Julia returned her attention to the material in her lap. “Besides, I just don’t feel like riding. I don’t understand why your father won’t let you take your horse out alone. How many times in the past have you ridden off by yourself? Just because you have one minor accident…”
“It’s because I was out all night.”
“But it was so easily explained.”
“It was a lie!”
Julia’s gaze flew to Kristina’s face. She had been a witness to the panic within the fort when Kristina had failed to return only a few days ago. She had seen the Indian return with her friend. She was aware of the gossip about Kristina, just as she knew of the simple explanation. Julia studied her friend. There was a difference about her that Julia had chosen to ignore.
“Sit down, Kristina.” Julia once more removed the material from her lap. “I should have talked to you sooner. I guess I haven’t been a very good friend lately. I’ve been so caught up in my romance with Kenneth, I chose to pretend I didn’t see your distress. What’s happened?”
Kristina seated herself gracefully. She studied Julia’s features with a gaze that was steady and direct.
“I have some trouble, Julia. I could benefit from having someone to confide in. But I would ask that our conversation go no farther than just the two of us. For if all were known, I fear the consequences.”
“I will keep your secret.”
Kristina nodded. She lowered her voice. In fact, she whispered, and Julia had to strain forward to hear.
“The Indian and I were married.” Julia sat without motion for a very long time. At last she cleared her throat.
“What was that?”
“Tahiska married us. Well, it’s not really a marriage, it doesn’t have the sanction of my church, but Tahiska believes we are married.”
“This is why you were out all night? Did you…? I mean did he…? That is, the two of you…?”
Kristina averted her gaze. What could she say? She couldn’t tell the truth. She wouldn’t lie.
Julia looked hard at her friend. She sighed. “I think you have more than a little trouble, Kristina. I think you have taken a deep plunge.”
Kristina was quick to note the fleeting look of disgust upon Julia’s face. Perhaps she had not been wise to reveal this.
“I love him.”
“Love him all y
ou want,” Julia insisted. “But marry him? Kristina, what were you thinking?”
“I didn’t know what the ceremony meant. In truth, I’m not sure what to do. I did insist that we were not married, so he asked me to divorce him.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.”
Julia gave her a hard look. “Are you telling me that in the space of twenty-four hours, you were married and divorced?”
“Yes.”
“Kristina,” Julia said, spreading her hands in front of her. “There are two hundred single men at this fort. Why did you pick an Indian?”
“I…” Kristina thrust her chin forward. “Does it matter? I’m in love with a man, not a color.”
“Perhaps it wouldn’t matter if their culture wasn’t so different. Marriage? Do you realize, Kristina, that if you hadn’t divorced him, you would be forced to sleep on the ground, out of doors? And that’s not all. Their women are slaves, performing only the drudgery of camp life. They have no arts, no music. Do you realize how unhappy you would be with him?”
“Yes, I have considered this.” Kristina turned her face away from her friend. “And yet I feel tied to him in ways I don’t fully understand. I’m not sure just how happy I will be without him. I know I should let things alone, not see him, not speak with him. He would never seek me out. Still I can’t stop thinking about him. Do you see my problem?” She looked up, her heart heavy with confusion and pain.
“No, and I think you are right. Leave him alone.”
“I can’t, Julia. I truly love him.”
Julia paused, giving her friend a hard look. “He will demand that you live with the Indians eventually. You realize this, don’t you?”
“Yes, that’s why I…”
“Of course, he could assimilate into our society, instead. There are other Indians who…”
“I would never wish that on him.” Kristina leaned back into her chair. She broke her gaze with Julia. She was silent for several moments while she appeared to study the ceiling. It was the same thought she’d had several times and she’d finally resolved it to her own satisfaction. Tahiska could never give up his heritage; it would break him, something Kristina could not abide. She took a deep breath and said, “There’s no one here who would ever accept such a thing. I’ve thought about it a good deal and I’m sure that he’d never be accepted into our society. Besides, can you imagine my mother enjoying a cozy tea with him? No,” she said, shaking her head, “the townspeople would break him. I couldn’t watch that. I’m not truly married to him anyway.”
