by Karen Kay
At last she saw him, Soaring Eagle, walking toward her as though with great purpose. Her pulse leaped at the sight, and for more reasons than one. But she wouldn’t think of that now. She couldn’t. Not and keep her peace of mind.
She smiled at him, hoping the simple grin might hide her nervousness.
“What did the council decide?” she asked as soon as he came within voice range.
He didn’t answer, and Kali knew a moment of anxiety. For as he tread toward her, his expression was far from happy.
Oh, dear. What has happened?
He didn’t falter in his step, nor did he utter a word until he had reached the wagon and had climbed up onto the seat, the wooden joints creaking under his weight. He sat next to her, arms crossed over his chest, his glance brooding, staring straight ahead of him.
“It was that bad, was it?” she asked.
“Saa, it was not bad at all. Comes Running Bird, the owner of the pipe, was not opposed to your photographing parts of the ceremony. And so the council decided that you might be allowed to—”
“Really? I have permission to take pictures?” She couldn’t help herself. She flung out a hand to touch him. “Thank you, Soaring Eagle.”
Quickly he moved away from her. “Do not thank me.”
“Why not?”
“There is more.”
“More?” she echoed. “Oh.” The flatness of the word escaped her lips before she could prevent it. “What else is there?” She scooted away from him.
“The council’s decision, since they do not know you, is to let you photograph the ceremony as long as I am with you. You may only take those pictures that I approve.”
“I see,” said Kali. Was this a problem? “Well,” she said, “that’s fine, isn’t it?”
“Fine?” He practically spit out the word. “How is that fine?”
Kali was baffled. “I’m not sure why that isn’t to your liking.”
“To my liking?” He gave her a glare. “Do you realize that this means we will have to be with one another—constantly—throughout the entire evening?”
“Yes?” What was she missing here? To her, the mere thought of gaining more time with the man was more than a little exciting. “And…?”
His glance at her was intent, urgent. And Kali recognized it deeply, there to the tip of her very feminine soul. And she couldn’t have stopped herself responding to it had she tried. She shut her eyes.
He said, “Do you think it will be easy for me to be with you in the coming hours of darkness, and having touched you as I already have, to keep away from you?”
“Oh.” So that was it. She opened her eyes and stared straight in front of her.
“And I have promised myself that I will not take you to my sleeping robes without becoming first man and wife.”
“I see.” She gulped. “Well, it is possible th-that I might have a say in the evening as well, don’t you think? Perhaps I might be able to avoid your…ah…charms.”
She cast him a surreptitious glance, finding him frowning at her in a most sardonic way. He said, “Do you honestly think I could not convince you to lie with me?”
Her pulse leaped at the very suggestion, but Kali sat stiffly beside him, pretending an immunity to him that she was far from feeling. In faith, mental images of exactly what this might entail flashed in her mind’s eye. But she damped such things down.
Instead she said, “Surely there are other things we could do with the evening. Besides, you might be exaggerating your…ah, ability.”
Oh, dear, that had escaped her lips before she’d had a chance to think thoroughly about it. Even to her own ears, her words sounded like a challenge.
His gaze landed on hers. “Do you think that I exaggerate?” he asked, bending toward her. A simple move. Hardly anything. But Kali’s stomach tied itself in knots because of it. She gasped, and awareness swept through her in a downpour. All at once the need to touch and be touched seemed paramount within her. And she really didn’t require him pointing out, “Would you like me to demonstrate how simple it would be to have you melting in my arms?”
As though to substantiate the suggestion, he reached out toward her. Kali, however, scooted as far away from him as their seat would allow, stuttering, “A-ah, that isn’t necessary. I—I think I get the message.”
He drew back at once, again crossing his arms over his chest and staring out into the night.
“Wh-what are we to do, then? Are you thinking of forgetting the entire thing?”
“Saa, we cannot do that. The council has decreed what must be, and it is not my place to disobey them. No, I must do this; you must do it too, if you wish to write your book. Aa, I will stay by you tonight and assume the duty the chiefs have given to me. It’s only that it won’t be easy for me, and perhaps not for you, either.”
“Perhaps not for me, either? Y-you are uncertain? About me?” Was he really unaware of what she felt? To her own mind, she was more than obvious.
But he nodded in response. “That’s right. I am uncertain of you.”
“Oh,” said Kali. “Oh.” She gulped in a breath, but didn’t seek to enlighten him. In faith, it would have been a hard thing for her to do, since Kali herself was a little confused on that account. Yes, his mere presence might cause her heart to beat faster, her arms to ache for him, but she could not, she would not give herself quarter. She had to hold herself back. After all, it was only reasonable to assume that anything that could bring about so much pleasure could also produce as much pain.
But he was still speaking, saying, “And so, I would ask that you keep your distance from me, and I from you. Perhaps, after setting up your equipment, you could take a short rest, while I stay alert and watch for signs that the ceremony is beginning.”
“Yes,” she acknowledged, although secretly she doubted she would be able to nap. She was simply too excited, by the prospect of her work and by…other things. Aloud she said, “I—I’m not certain that this is all necessary, is it…?”
She tilted her head, glancing at him, watching as his jaw clenched, watching as a muscle in his cheek flicked angrily. “But perhaps it is,” she finished, “Of course, I will agree with you.”
He inhaled. “Soka’pii, good.” He scooted off the seat, hitting the ground with a dull thud. There he stood, gazing up at her with an expression of mild tolerance. “Come, help me unhitch your ponies, and together we can lead them into the meadow where they can graze with the rest of our herd. And in the morning you can gather your animals together without difficulty, since they are much larger than our Indian ponies. They will be no worse for their adventure this evening, I think.”
Kali nodded and, spurring herself into action, jumped down from the seat, wondering if her horses would have the only adventure yet this night? And with that thought she felt a faint stab of disappointment stir within her…
“There are many must and must-nots that accompany ownership of the Medicine Pipe,” said Soaring Eagle as he ushered Kali toward Comes Running Bird’s lodge. “Perhaps it is lucky that none of these rules prevent a person from photographing the opening moments of the ceremony.”
“I see. Yes, that’s good.”
He gazed down at her, only to find her grinning up at him. And despite himself, he responded to that smile, to her, wanting to take her in his arms, if only to keep her happy. He looked away from her and picked up his pace instead.
“Tell me,” she chatted as she trotted along beside him. “Where do you live? Do you have a lodge of your own, or being single, do you live with your father and mother?”
“I live with my family,” he affirmed, still without looking at her. He didn’t tell her that Comes Running Bird was his father. For a reason he couldn’t define, he kept that knowledge from her.
“Ah, then single young men remain with their parents until they are married?”
“Usually they do,” he said, “unless they have a sister or an aunt who might be able to help them with the things they nee
d for a household. But my sister is married and has her own family to keep clothed and housed. I would not burden her with my own needs.” He came to a stop outside Comes Running Bird’s tepee. The drumming from inside the lodge was loud, so much so that it required him to lean toward Kali in order to be heard, coming in so close to her that he could practically taste the fragrance of her skin. In reaction to her, his head reeled, but there was little he could do about it except to tell her what he had to say with as little commotion as possible. “Now, remember,” he began, “it’s allowed that you snap pictures of this lodge, as well as the singers and drummers within. But do not do more unless you ask me first.”
“I wi-will.” She stumbled over the word, then chuckled. “That is, I will not take pictures without asking you first.” She grinned at him.
“Soka’pii. And remember that you must never come between a person in the circle and the fire. You must always walk behind them, and when you enter, you must enter to the south; that would be to your left. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said, “yes, I do.” She wrinkled her nose at him in a cheeky sort of grin.
In response, however, Soaring Eagle frowned and, opening the tepee flap, stepped inside.
As she followed him, she tripped and tumbled into him, causing her to grab hold of his waist. Accidentally, her hand touched him…there, privately. In self-defense, he turned and steadied her, keeping his own balance by taking her in his arms.
It was a tense moment. Haiya, how could a mere touch set him afire? Yet he could not deny the surge of longing that swept over him.
He swallowed, realizing with a start the exact spot on his body where the blood rushed. He bent toward her; she did the same. Haiya, it was as he feared. He could not be this close to her and not grow ready for her.
“Soaring Eagle,” she said, “I—I…”
All at once Soaring Eagle became aware that the drumming had stopped; the lodge had grown quiet as well. Almost fearing to look, Soaring Eagle slowly glanced to the side. Kali did the same.
Every face was turned toward them.
Shutting his eyes, he dropped his arms from around her.
Wide-eyed, she stared back at him, her lips rounding on the words, “I—I’m sorry.”
He sighed and said, “It is nothing.” With a quick motion he urged her to the left of the circle.
She stepped left, but was looking at him instead of where she was going. She tripped and fell over another woman.
“Excuse me,” he heard her utter as she picked herself up, straightening first her dress, then the other woman’s. Looking up, she sent Soaring Eagle a glance laced with urgency, as though she might beg him to help her.
But he had done all he could, more than enough. He had already rushed to her aid once, a thing no man did for a woman—at least not in front of other men.
Again with a look and a quick motion of the hand, Soaring Eagle gave her to understand that she could set up her equipment.
She nodded, beaming at him from across the circle. Then, turning this way and that, she appeared to be appraising the ground for the best possible location to begin her work.
He watched as she set up the camera, grimaced as it fell over, winced as it hit the side of the tepee. Kali, he noted, coughed anxiously, glanced back at him, then bent to pick up the equipment.
He breathed in and stared upward as though for guidance. Then, letting his breath out in a quick sigh, he stepped to the right and took his place next to his father.
She was nervous. That was all that was wrong with her. It would pass.
At last the drumming began again, a pipe was beginning its way around the circle and Soaring. Eagle started to relax. However, Comes Running Bird leaned toward him, saying, “The white woman is very pretty.” He made a motion toward her, then murmured softly, “Unusual and clumsy. But pretty.”
Soaring Eagle nodded.
But Comes Running Bird was continuing, and he said, “She is persistent, too, is she not?”
“That she is,” said Soaring Eagle, his voice hushed.
“It is good,” said Comes Running Bird. “A good thing, indeed. A fine quality in a woman. For our paths in life are often difficult, but a woman who remains true to her chosen course is a rare and valuable creature.”
“Aa, my father.”
But Comes Running Bird wasn’t finished, and he went on to say, “And so it is with most men and women. The winds are often strong, the force of the gales demanding, the whisperings of the wind deceiving, but if a man or a woman has chosen a path that is from the heart, he or she must hold true and stand firm. For the wind is but a gust that will be gone on the morrow.”
“Aa, Father. Yes.” However, no sooner had Soaring Eagle spoken those few words than he sent his father a long look. Comes Running Bird didn’t often voice an opinion on matters of the heart, but when he did, it was indeed a wise person who heeded the advice.
Comes Running Bird continued, “It is one of the reasons why I was in favor of you bringing the white woman here. I recognized that she would persist until she accomplished what she came here to do. Did you wonder at my reasons?”
“Aa, that I did, my father. That I did.”
“Soka’pii,” said Comes Running Bird, motioning outward from his chest with his right hand, the sign for “good.” Then, reaching out to the side, he accepted the pipe being offered him. He grabbed hold of the object, took a puff and passed it on to Soaring Eagle, observing calmly as he did so, “It is as I thought. And now, my son, I think you understand.”
Soaring Eagle nodded, was reaching for the pipe, when his father’s words suddenly took on greater meaning.
What was wrong with him? Was he doomed to be continually blind? He was being handed the chance of a lifetime, a chance to spend an entire evening with the one woman, in all the years of his life, who had captured his heart…and he was worried about it; in truth, had been troubled by it.
And though Kali had elicited a promise from him that he would not speak to her again on the subject of marriage, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t woo her, utilizing every means known to man or beast.
Yes. His father was right. It was, indeed, a good thing to persist on a given course—to see it to the end.
Glancing to his right toward his father, Soaring Eagle moved his right hand out and away from his chest in the same jerky motion that his father had used, the sign for “good.” He said, “Soka’pii. And now, my father, I understand.”
Chapter Thirteen
Many a time I’ve thought of that robe couch, the cheerful little fire, the quaint things scattered around. It was a place to rest and to dream.
—James Willard Schultz, My Life as an Indian
Kali had snapped pictures of the seven drummers; the members of the Medicine Pipe society as they sat around the circle; the interior of the tepee; and the outside pictographs which adorned Comes Running Bird’s lodge. All of these pictures, however, were still mere images set on glass plates, which themselves had been stored in their own separate packets and had been placed in her pouch. She had even managed to procure the cooperation of a small boy, who had been lingering outside the Medicine Pipe lodge before his mother had come and ushered him quickly away.
It had taken her less than an hour to gain what pictures she could. That was all; no more than an hour. Now what was she to do? It would still be several hours, almost the entire night, before a new pipe owner would be found.
She fretted. For there were still several things that bothered her.
Would her pictures develop well? It was impossible to tell. The lighting here was bad, the moon, the stars and the fires, both inside and out, being her only light sources. What if none of the shots turned out to be recognizable?
Still, she tried to soothe herself, perhaps the illumination from her flash stick would be enough to grab hold of an image. She could only hope it would be so.
“There, to your right, do you see those men?” Soaring Eagle interrupted
her thoughts to point with his thumb toward a place in the village.
Kali looked in the direction he indicated. She and Soaring Eagle had left the interior of Comes Running Bird’s lodge only a little while previously, and had retreated to the edge of the Indian encampment, where the two of them sat beneath a stand of cottonwood trees. A buffalo robe—one that Soaring Eagle had produced—cushioned them, as well as provided a barrier from the coolness of the hard ground and the dew on the grass.
It was an isolated spot, a fragrant one, too. For the cottonwoods, the pine trees and everything that was green emitted a pleasant odor of pure prairie air, grass and dirt. Indeed, the aroma sat well on the senses.
Unbidden, Kali shivered. Despite the warmth of the day, the evenings in this northern climate were cool.
“Are you cold?”
“I…yes, I am, a bit.”
“Here, wait.” He rose, treading off quickly in the direction of the encampment. He was back within a few minutes, holding a blanket in his hand, which he immediately placed around her shoulders. His arms lingered around her, his breath fanning her neck, making her feel warm, cozy, content.
It came as a shock when he raised her hair and kissed the back of her neck. Kali jumped, scooting away from him as fast as she could.
She said, “Wh-whose blanket is this?”
“Mine.”
“Is it? It’s wonderfully soft and warm,” she said, not adding that the woolen article, laced with a hint of smoke, grass and the musky scent of humanity, was making her heart throb uncontrollably.
“Humph.”
She took a deep breath. “Wh-what was that you were telling me? Something that was off in that direction?” She pointed with a nod.
“Hmmm.” Soaring Eagle had retreated to a cottonwood tree and was at present leaning back against it. However, he turned his head to look in the direction indicated. “I don’t see them now. Wait, there they are. Do you see the two figures over there to the west, making their way to one of the lodges?”
“Yes, I think so. Do you mean those two shadows? They look as though they’re sneaking through the camp. Are they?”
