“How is it you're not married to some lucky girl?” she asked idly. He stiffened beside her. “I'm sorry. That was unforgivably rude of me. Please do not answer.”
He relaxed a bit. “I was once. Years ago. She died.”
“I'm so sorry.” Sorry for his loss and sorry she had asked.
“No need. It was a long time ago. We'd known each other forever and just married because it seemed the thing to do. She was a good woman. What I let happen to myself after her death is what's hard to remember.”
Well, that sounded like a mystery. She itched to know more but kept silent. She didn't see his face relax into a smile, but she felt it. Then he called out something and a man sitting near the well broke into laughter. Her Gus was back.
Her Gus. Yes! Instinct told her he was a man she could trust. And she did like him, quite a lot. Beyond that, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Just his smile made her stomach do flips and her breath quicken.
“I like you, Gus.”
He pulled back and examined her face. But he regained his wit quickly enough. “Everyone likes me, Maire. They call me Coyote. That’s Istaqa in their tongue. The iisaw, or coyote, is a trickster and the jester.”
“But he’s wily.”
“The better to get the prize.” He said the mysterious words so tenderly that shivers ran down Maire’s back.
“I like you, too.” He stroked her hair once more and then stood abruptly. “I’ll talk to John’s mother. We’ll come tonight for dinner so you and John can talk. You need to before going back, anyway.” And then he was gone.
She wanted him back, stroking her hair and touching her face. What was happening to her? No man had ever made her feel like Gus, as though an army of butterflies had taken over her stomach. Exciting, yet safe. His examination of her didn’t have the same effect as John Eagle's penetrating gaze. With him a sense of dark, forbidden thrill skittered along her nerves. She had yet to decide what that meant.
She saw Gus briefly later, when she hesitantly walked to the well to draw water for the evening meal. He was playing with a group of children. A toddler squealed with both fear and joy when Gus tossed him into the air and caught him, over and over. And Gus laughed, too, as though he enjoyed the play as much as the children. He caught sight of her and stared for half a moment. The intensity of his gaze confused her and heated her. Suddenly she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. And that was not something she normally wondered.
* * * *
The talk at dinner was all about Masichuvio’s proposal and Pavati’s sweet corn cake, which she had very carefully baked that afternoon. John was not all that fond of Masichuvio, possibly because Masichuvio had made it very clear that he was not fond of John. Masichuvio was one of the tribe who believed they should fight the White man’s advance, not work with them. He resented John’s presence whenever the latter returned to see his family. They had played as children, before John’s father sent him to the school in Tuba City. But where John had learned to see two sides to an issue, Masichuvio remained narrowly focused. John feared he would cause trouble one day, and then where would his sister be?
“Are you sure you want this man, Pavati?”
“Very sure, brother. He makes my heart sing.”
How much will her heart be singing if the young buck goes off and does something stupid, though? “His mother is a shrew.”
Their mother clucked her tongue and folded her hands in her lap in agreement. Very diplomatically, Pavati said, “Not everything in life is as we like it. I shall learn to live with her until we have our own home.”
“And he can provide for you?”
“He is the best hunter. The strongest fighter, the—”
John held up his hand to stop her. He wanted to smile at his sister’s enthusiasm, but he forced himself to remain serious. It wouldn’t do to add to Masichuvio’s praise. Pavati was already far too in love to listen, anyway. “He is not perfect,” he said in English.
“Like you, brother?” She poked him in the ribs and smiled.
“Exactly,” he said, causing them all to laugh. His mother was the exception. Because of his teaching Pavati English, he knew his mother understood more than she revealed. She didn’t appreciate his use of it in the village, however, even when it brought a bit of laughter to the table.
Maire especially seemed to like his attempt at humor, and that pleased him. In fact, nearly everything about the woman pleased him. The more he knew her, the more he wanted the bond between them to strengthen. How he could bring that about, he didn’t know.
Twice in the past couple of days, Pavati had sought him out to talk about Maire. She had become fond of their guest patient, and even admitted to having told Maire about her intentions toward Masichuvio. Through his sister’s eyes he saw the white woman as someone special. As though he hadn’t already known that. His spirit guide led him to her for a reason. Whether that reason was to be good or bad remained to be seen.
“If you want him, my sister, love of my heart, then I app—”
A sharp knock at the door caused him to start. Pavati jumped up to answer. She returned with a stricken expression and set a bundle of clothing on the table.
“What is it, Clear Water?” Maire strained forward to see. “Oh,” she whispered. “What beautiful work.” She skimmed her finger across the beadwork on a dress. Beneath the dress lay a new blanket, tightly woven to be warm and resistant to rain.
“Who left this?” he asked.
Pavati looked up with tears in her eyes. “Mochni,” she said.
“What does it mean?” Maire asked.
Tension filled him. This action could bring nothing but trouble when the hot-headed Masichuvio heard about it. He looked at Maire. “It is a proposal.”
Chapter Five
John studied Pavati’s face. “Mochni wants to marry you. Are you sure you prefer Masichuvio?”
“Eagle!” she cried. “I love Masichuvio. I’ll have no other. But…” She rested her hands on top of the dress. “They are friends. How can this be resolved?”
“Don’t worry,” John said, standing.
“What will happen now?” John heard Maire say to Gus. She spoke quietly, perhaps hoping he wouldn’t hear.
“We aren’t like the Whites,” John said in English before Gus could answer. “Mochni will see that Pavati prefers Masichuvio and he will allow them their chance. The Clan will abide by my mother’s decision.” John said something in Hopi to his mother. She rose, and he handed her the bundle Mochni left on the doorstep. John followed her outside and across the open courtyard area.
“This will bring trouble,” his mother said.
“I like Mochni,” he replied. Though Mochni was good friends with Masichuvio, he had more humor. John enjoyed his company. He hoped Pavati knew what she was about. “I wish Pavati had chosen him instead of Masichuvio.”
“They are friends. No more.” When they reached Mochni’s home, his mother deposited the bundle outside the door. John stood behind her, arms crossed.
She called out. “Mochni. It is with regret that we must refuse your offer. Pavati has given her heart to another.”
Before they turned to go, Mochni ripped back the door covering. “She is not promised.”
“Not yet,” John’s mother said in a kind voice. “But she baked the cake today.”
The young man’s face took on a scowl. “I know Masichuvio well, and they will not be happy. But I will accept your decision.”
John didn’t like the look on the man’s face or his prediction. As much as he distrusted Masichuvio, he wanted his sister to make a good match. “Do not make trouble, Mochni,” John said.
“You have no say,” Mochni said and flipped his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “You come and go as you please, working with the Whites one day and then coming here another day, as though you belong.”
“Mochni!” John’s mother’s tone brought the man up short, but he continued to glare at John.
“
You would have been our leader, but not now. You made your choice, and it was not with the Clans.” He bent to pick up the dress and blanket. He handled the garments with unexpected gentleness after his verbal tirade, skimming his hand over the beadwork on the dress. He felt sorry for the lovesick man, though he had been the object of Mochni’s vitriol. This was why he had taken care never to give his heart.
Feeling worse than on the trek to Mochni’s home, he followed his mother back to theirs. Both Pavati and Maire stood just outside. He had no doubt they had watched the whole sorry situation unfold, and he was disappointed that Maire had seen this negative episode. He brought her here for care and because his totem had led him to do so, but once here, he had subtly wanted to impress her with his village and people. She was in the Southwest to study the various tribes. He wanted her to know that they were people, not specimens.
Well, maybe he had done that. Every group had disappointments and triumphs, good days and bad.
John stood aside as his mother and Pavati, carefully holding her sweet corn cake in front, took the walk to Masichuvio’s home. Within seconds of their arrival at the door, Masichuvio’s mother invited them in. A few minutes later, Pavati and their mother exited, without the cake. The smile on Pavati’s face told the tale. At least now Maire would know that the Clan fostered happiness as well as heartbreak.
* * * *
The following day was difficult because Maire was alone with John’s mother. Clear Water had gone to be with Gray Deer’s mother, where she would stay for three days proving that she could grind corn properly—a mastery all good wives needed.
In an effort to be out of the way, Maire took her place on the wooden seat for the third day.
“Has Clear Water gone to prove her worthiness?” Gus dropped beside her, smiling to show he teased.
“Yes. She left very early so as to be ready for the noon meal. How does that work, exactly? I’ve heard of men’s mothers demanding to know if a girl is able to run a household, but to grind corn?”
“That’s what constitutes running a good household in the Southwest tribes. Depending on what you make, the corn is ground differently. It’s their primary staple for food, so knowing what to do with it is vital.”
“I suppose,” she said. “But three days of it? I’d go mad.”
“Well, they will stop and start. The women from the village will come by to berate the job she does. As the future mother-in-law, Masichuvio’s mother will defend her against criticism. That is, if she approves of what Clear Water is doing. She can still decide the match won’t work.”
Maire watched the scene in the courtyard change. She was used to the routine now. The woman she thought of as Jar Woman went to the well, balanced the full jar of water on her head, and went away. She still gave Maire no glance of acknowledgement. The toddler she had seen playing with Gus sat in the dirt and used a small bit of water to make mud pies, much as she and her sisters had as children. Soon, Clear Water could have a small one like that. She would be happy as a wife, knowing her place in the world and what was expected to fulfill her role.
“John Eagle seems to dislike Clear Water’s choice. Do you?”
Gus took a while to answer. “I think Masichuvio can be dangerous. He’s against the ways of the Whites and the incursion into his people’s land. Can’t blame him for any of that. But I’m afraid he’s the type to take action, and that would be a mistake.”
She turned to him aghast. “Do you think he would try to fight the Army?”
Gus gave a half shrug. “I hope not.”
He faced the courtyard. With a shift, he turned his body so that his shoulder touched hers. Even this small contact would have been frowned on at home. Here, in the West where wildness still thrived, she felt relieved of the strictures of society against “small things.” In fact, she adjusted her body to be a little closer. She liked the warmth of him, the scent of him, the confidence and wit that he demonstrated. Being with him comforted her and excited her in a strange way. Sitting with him and talking and laughing, she enjoyed every moment. Just before dropping off to sleep last night, she’d wished for more time, even knowing such a thing would be next to impossible. They lived different lives.
“I feel sorry for the Indians,” he said. “We, the Whites, are on the verge of a new world and they’re on the edge of an abyss. Everything they’ve known for hundreds—hell, thousands—of years is about to end or change, and they have no power to stop it. The more they try, the faster the juggernaut will overwhelm them. It must be frightening, if not devastating.”
“That’s very sensitive of you.”
He snorted a laugh. “Maire, I work with the Army. I’m part of that juggernaut. But I can still understand the other side in some small way.”
She looked toward the perimeter of the camp, out to where Gus and John had their camp. “If you feel that way, how much more must John Eagle feel it?”
He nodded. “Exactly. And that’s what eats him alive when he’s here.”
* * * *
Gus worried the rest of the day about telling Maire so much about John. He probably shouldn’t have instigated her staying on, either, but something about her interested him. He wanted to know more. He wanted to see more of her. Damn it! Maybe he’d help John in being “responsible” for her after all. Besides, while he hadn’t sensed it at the time, he’d lately felt his own totem had something to do with Maire’s survivals on the rock. A coyote had helped her in some way.
But he still shouldn’t have talked about John. The man had his secrets, which were his to share. Or not.
After dinner, he arrived at John’s home to escort Maire to the dancing. He found her sitting outside alone just before dark.
“John Eagle’s mother has gone ahead,” she said. Already a sense of excitement hung in the air. Across the courtyard, children shrieked with glee at some game and more people than normal milled out in the open. “This is thrilling, Gus. What will we see?”
He settled in his now familiar position beside her. “The dance is to ask Toho for a favorable condition in the hunt. Toho is a powerful kachina, which is a god or spirit. You’ll see him tonight as a mountain lion.”
“A mountain lion? I would have thought he would be bad for hunting.”
“No, he’s a master hunter. He teaches perseverance and moving forward to reach your goals. In the dance, he’s often accompanied by antelope and other creatures. Toho steadies the hunter to make the kill that will sustain him and his family.”
She smiled. Gus’s heart stuttered. Good God. It’s been too long since I’ve been between a woman’s legs.
“So he’s a good god.”
“Oh, absolutely. And the Hopi Clans have hundreds of kachinas—one for everything just about.”
A drum struck a rhythm, and everyone seemed to coalesce toward the center, near the opening to the kiva. Gus stood and held out a hand to her. As they strolled toward the gathering crowd, she took his arm. Fire raced through his veins at her closeness. Steady on, boy. She’s just needing a little support after her long inactivity.
When they neared the action, Gus pulled Maire to his front and found a path to the fore of the crowd. The tribe’s women had formed a ring around a huge bonfire. They stepped to the beat of the drum, hands linked, wearing dresses decorated with symbols of the hunt. He spied John Eagle’s mother in the group, one of the oldest women there.
With one hand on her shoulder, Gus used the other to point out things that Maire should see.
She gasped and raised her hands to her face when Toho came near. Gus had no doubt that she wanted to cover her eyes, for the man was naked, wearing only a headpiece of yellow fur with whiskers and small furry ears.
She moved back against Gus, and he heard her shortened breath. For a brief second or two, Gus wished he was standing naked before Maire. He wanted her to see him, for though he wasn’t the largest man in the world when it came to his dick, by God, he had nothing to be ashamed of. But would she be impressed? Wou
ld his form make her want him, or only embarrass her…and him?
He had been able to satisfy his wife—or at least she seemed to be happy enough after they made love. If she had lived longer, if the damned Comanche war party hadn't come by their ranch, well, who knows how things would have turned out? Sally hadn't been the same kind of woman that Maire was. They'd fallen into marriage through familiarity rather than passion, and Gus wasn't at all sure the flame would have lasted for a lifetime. If he had met Maire during that time, would he have felt the same rush of desire he did now?
He came back to his senses in a flash. No doubt about it, before he and John reported back to the fort, he needed to make a stop at the brothel in town.
Across the fire, Gus saw John. Arms crossed, he stood alone, watching them. I’ll be damned. Was that jealousy in his eyes? Before he could decide, John shifted his gaze to the dance.
If John had stayed in the village—even after graduating from the school in Tuba City—he would be one of the lead hunters instead of Masichuvio, who led the younger men behind Toho. Or by now he might be one of the lead dancers, taking major roles in the religious ceremonies. How much he’d given up by keeping himself away from the tribe for long periods of time.
Finally, the men ended the dance and entered the underground kiva, where the ceremonial portion of the night continued. The women took this time to visit and let their children play a few minutes longer, guaranteeing a solid night’s sleep.
“No women go into the kiva?” Maire asked when Gus walked her back toward John’s home.
“I don’t know that they aren’t allowed, but I’ve never seen a woman go into the kiva. Religion is the men’s responsibility.”
Maire [The Sisters O'Ryan 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 4
