by Karen Kay
Soaring Eagle narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you all right? You are acting strangely.”
“I’m fine.”
“And will you return here tonight?”
“Ah…” Kali glanced up toward Comes Running Bird, who sat calmly at the head of the circle, staring back at her, smiling at her as though to give her courage. “Ah, I don’t think so.”
“Then I will come with you.”
“No,” she said a little too quickly. “Ah…no. You should stay here,” she finished more evenly.
Kali could feel the heat of Soaring Eagle’s disapproving frown, but she wouldn’t turn to look at him, though she did squirm, trying to wrest herself from his grip.
He said, “Something is wrong, my wife.”
Her father harrumphed. “Ah, Kalifornia, m’dear, did this young man call you his wife?”
“Yes, Father, he did, but it’s not true.”
“It is true.” This from Soaring Eagle.
Once more her father coughed. “So tell me, Kalifornia, is it true or isn’t it?”
Kali sighed. “Father, I’ll explain later.”
But Soaring Eagle was not to be ignored, and he pulled on her hand with a little pressure. “Are you upset that Gilda and I were talking?”
“Ah…ah…of course not. Why would that upset me?”
He shrugged. “It is an unusual thing to have happen, I admit, that a man will speak so intently to a woman who is not his wife. But your guide had something important to tell me. That is all. You have nothing to fear, my wife.”
“Wives? Marriage? Someone had best explain, quickly.”
“Later, Father, please.”
“My son.” It was Comes Running Bird speaking. “Your mother has sent word to me that she needs you at once.”
“Aa, my father. I will go to her,” said Soaring Eagle. And then, turning back to Kali, he continued, “You must believe me. Trust me. This once. Please come back tonight. I will explain.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes, you will trust me?”
Kali once more pulled on her hand. “Ah, not exactly. In truth, it would be best if I leave now and speak with my father. As you heard, he’s going to need an explanation, and I’m sure I’ll have quite a time answering his questions. And of course, there are some other things I must attend to.”
“And when you finish doing these things you must do, you will return?”
“Ah…ah…”
Comes Running Bird sat forward. “Excuse me, my son, but your mother is asking for you.”
“Aa, Father, in a moment. Kali?”
However, Kali couldn’t promise anything. She had to think. She had to sort through the events of the evening. And she had to do it away from here…far away from here. Now.
Knowing that to get angry with him would only delay her departure, she mustered up the best smile that she could under the circumstances, and turned to him. “Ah…thank you Soaring Eagle,” she said, “for all you’ve done for me today. It has been an enlightening experience. And of course we will see one another again, I’m certain of it. But please excuse me now, as my father does need me, and I really must go.”
But Soaring Eagle wasn’t to be easily convinced, and turning her hand around in his, he brought it to his lips, holding it there as he said, “I will wait for you.”
“Oh, please don’t,” said Kali, attempting another dazzling smile, another facade. She continued, “I could be quite a while. I mean, I have photographs to develop and your agent’s books to read, cover to cover, remember?”
“I remember nothing except that we should be together.”
Kali drew in her breath, astonished at the slight hissing sound an inhalation could make.
“Kalifornia,” said her father from the entryway. “Come along now. We mustn’t keep the governor waiting.”
“Yes, Father, I’m coming,” she muttered, and pulling back her hand, said, “Thank you again, Soaring Eagle, Comes Running Bird. But I really must go now.”
And on these words, she trod to the entryway, stumbling out through the entrance and into the gathering darkness of an evening summer storm.
Soaring Eagle watched her go, knowing in his heart that Kali was plagued by something.
What had happened? She had been all right during the ceremony. She had seemed fine as his people had showered the two of them with gifts.
Was it Gilda? Was Kali jealous?
She might be. She very well might be, although in his heart, Soaring Eagle knew that it wasn’t quite that simple. There had been more at work here tonight than mere envy.
The strange thing was that he felt as though he had lived this all before.
Should he follow Kali?
No, not this time, he decided. Kali needed room; room to think, room to go over her thoughts. Make no mistake; they weren’t through, he and his wife. But for now he would let her attend to other things.
Besides, there was something else he must do. Gilda had told him that she would provide him with some answers to his questions; he thought it best that he see her as soon as possible.
“My son,” said Comes Running Bird, “your mother needs your assistance, I think.”
“Aa, Father. Is she with my grandmother?”
“Aa, aa.”
Rising, Soaring Eagle stepped to the lodge’s entrance, knowing he had better hasten.
After all, it was time he understood what was going on here. And if what he suspected was true…
His mother had wanted nothing more than to speak words of encouragement to him on this, his wedding day. It had taken little enough time to talk with her, but meanwhile Kali had gone. He had seen her leave camp with her father, both of them on foot, perhaps en route to their wagon.
Soaring Eagle sighed. Something was not as it should be between Kali and himself, but what that something was exactly remained a mystery to him. Still, he would let Kali go, at least for now. She had things to attend to, as did he.
He needed this meeting with Gilda, for it was his intention to confront the woman with many questions.
It took precious little time to make his way to the river, even considering the fact that his grandmother accompanied him. In truth, not more than a few moments had passed before Soaring Eagle was laying a blanket out over the ground, helping his grandmother to sit upon it. Gazing down at her, he smiled.
“I am glad that you agreed to accompany me here and act as chaperone,” he said to her.
“It is nothing,” she said. “After all, my grandson is now a married man.”
A loud boom followed her words, causing his grandmother to jump up and throw herself into Soaring Eagle’s arms.
“What is it?” she asked in Blackfeet. “Is our camp being attacked?”
Soaring Eagle listened to the laughter that followed the gunshots and shook his head, his arms coming around his grandmother to comfort her.
“It is no more than a few of our young men having fun, I think. I’m sure a Dog Chief is on his way to them now.”
“Hannia? Annisa,” said the old woman, and she laughed, placing her head on Soaring Eagle’s shoulder. “I thought it might be the white soldiers attacking, like they have done in the past.”
Soaring Eagle stroked the old lady’s head. “Those days are in our past now, Grandmother. Calm yourself.”
“Aa,” said his grandmother. “You are right. I was being silly.” And, smiling, she returned to her seat on the blanket.
In the distance, Soaring Eagle heard the noise of a wagon pulling away, and turning, he espied Kali’s wagon meandering out of the village, carrying both Kali and her father away. All at once he yearned to run to her. Somehow, it seemed important that he do so. He made a move…
“Ah, it is good to see that my friend’s husband waits for me, as planned.”
Turning, Soaring Eagle beheld she whom he sought: Gilda. He said, “I am glad that you have come. Here,” he gestured toward the blanket where his grandmother was seated, “let
us sit and talk for a while. I have many questions to ask you…”
Chapter Twenty
Americans prided themselves on being people of laws, of the sanctity of contracts, of the importance of keeping one’s word. Somehow, the treaties fell outside of this framework.
—Peter Iverson, When Indians Became Cowboys
Kali held the wooden frame, along with the glass-plate negative, close to the kerosene lamp, timing the process, allowing the light to shine on it for exactly four minutes. Next would come the chemical bath and then finally the last phase of photo development, where she would place the print facedown on a metal plate, one that she used specially for this.
Here the picture would dry for several hours.
She sighed. This was the last glass-plate negative to be developed. She had taken a total of twenty pictures at the ceremony, many of which had not turned out well; a condition she attributed to the poor lighting conditions.
But some were quite good despite that, and would make a welcome addition to her father’s written account of the Medicine Pipe ceremony.
Kali placed a gloved hand on her brow. The pictures had taken her longer to develop than she had hoped, the entire process spanning almost a week. However, it probably wouldn’t have taken her so long had she not set herself to doing research as regarded the situation of the Blackfeet and their reservation land.
But she’d had no choice; she had given her word to Soaring Eagle, and she would keep it. However, it was not turning out as she had at first suspected. Soaring Eagle had not been exaggerating the offenses against his people.
The thought depressed her, but for more than the obvious reasons. She had promised to help him if she discovered that he had spoken the truth. However, that was quite impossible now.
What he didn’t know, what no one knew—not even her father—was that as Kali had left the Indian encampment, she had caught sight of Soaring Eagle. He had been standing in a sparsely wooded grove of trees, those that grew up next to the river. And his back had been to her.
True, it had been a mere glimpse, but it had been a very telling one. For as Soaring Eagle had stood there, Kali had espied feminine arms thrown around his neck, a dark head on his shoulders, and his arms out in front of him, holding the woman around the waist.
After what Kali had overheard at the ceremony, she’d almost expected it. Nonetheless, it came as a shock.
She had looked hard at the two figures, for there would be no mistake. Once certain, however, she had glanced away. It had sealed her fate. His, too, for as her wagon had pulled away, she had locked up her emotional ties to this man as surely as another might secure their valuables.
She had been right about him from the beginning, she thought. Right to trust her inclination to keep herself separate from Soaring Eagle; right to distrust him; right to discharge Gilda—well, at least she would as soon as she found the other woman.
Truth was, Kali needed to get away from here. Indeed, it didn’t take a genius to know that the sooner she left Indian country, the more joy she might find in life.
The only thing she didn’t know how to do was, well, how to do it. The more information she gleaned about the actions being taken against the Indians, the more of a toll it took on her emotionally, for she knew she had to act, even if it simply meant finding someone sympathetic to the cause and turning the research over to them.
Still, it kept her here, tied to the area. But what else could she do? She couldn’t walk away. Her own sense of fair play wouldn’t allow it.
Certainly, the Indians were not being given a chance. Someone was playing a dangerous game of “take advantage while they’re weak.” And truth be told, it seemed so unsporting that Kali could little understand it. For instance, if two men were to engage themselves in a duel, was it not expected that both parties be equally well armed?
However, this was not the case here. At present, the white ranchers held the aces, the kings, the queens, even the jokers in this game of land grabbing: lobbying Congress, screaming to Washington, buying off Indian agents. Meanwhile the reservation Indians didn’t even own a pack of cards.
She sighed. There were some things that were simply the right things to do. Some things that were one’s duty to do. And unfortunately for her, now that she knew what she knew, ensuring that justice be attained for the Indians was one of them.
Her father, on the other hand, didn’t appear to understand her position. Not that she had spoken to him about this subject in its entirety—and that included her marriage to Soaring Eagle. In truth, she feared that he might not understand what she’d done. Albeit how could he, when even she didn’t understand?
Nevertheless, she had claimed illness that first evening she’d been alone with her father, avoiding the subject of Soaring Eagle altogether. This had begun the game of “ye seek and hide” between herself and her father, where she was the one in camouflage and her father, the hunter.
But it couldn’t go on forever. There would come a day when she would have to disclose everything. Hopefully, she thought, that time was still in the distant future.
She wiped her brow with the back of her arm. At last, the picture was ready for the next phase.
Carefully removing it from the wooden frame, she turned toward the heavy curtain that surrounded her work area and, pulling it back and stepping forward a pace, drew the curtains around her. The drapery was a precaution. She had lost too many prints to the absentminded accidents of someone (usually her father) opening the darkroom door, exposing her treasures to the light at the most inopportune times.
Quickly, she placed the paper in chemicals, watching the process as though the changes that would come about might be instantaneous. But she knew it would be a matter of an hour or so before the images would appear. And even then another chemical wash would be needed before the print would be ready to dry.
It was an interesting thing to observe, however; one she loved to watch—for, no matter how many times she saw it, it seemed pure magic.
“You did not return.”
Kali jumped at the sound of a voice and swung around, parting the curtain. Soaring Eagle…?
Up came a hand to her throat while she attempted to catch her breath. “Soaring Eagle?” she said.
He nodded, the light from the entryway behind him, bathing him in a halo of light.
“Please, you frightened me. But hurry,” she said, “either come in or go out. But shut the door. Hurry.”
How had he come here? Indians weren’t allowed off the reservation without permission. And though it was a rather sad commentary on a free society that the First People of America were now imprisoned in it, Kali had felt quite safe here in a large home in Helena—far away from him—feeling certain he would not be able to obtain permission to leave, or if he could, that he would not find her.
He stepped inside her darkroom, bringing the door shut behind him, shrouding them in darkness. And as that door closed, Kali felt as though she were being suffocated. He was too close.
He repeated, “You did not return.”
“Ah…no,” she responded, her hand coming down on her upper chest as she tried to wish her heartbeat to a more normal pace. “Ah…you scared me, Soaring Eagle…” She stepped around the curtain, closing it quickly to protect her work.
“Did I? I’m sorry.”
“Yes, well, as you, can see, I’ve had a lot to do.”
Could he see that? It didn’t tax her imagination to believe that he was not impressed with the statement. In faith, before he had shut that door, his look at her had been most condemning.
He came directly to the point and said, “A minister came to see me yesterday.”
“Did he?” She turned away from Soaring Eagle, presenting him with her back, though she knew that in the dark he wouldn’t be able to see.
“Aa,” he said. “This minister tried to tell me that without his blessing, our marriage did not occur.”
“Oh?” Kali looked down.
“He said also that you want to annul our marriage and pretend that it never happened.”
“Ah, yes. Yes, that’s right. I do.”
“But it did happen.”
“I disagree. It was a dream, no more.”
“And what about the Medicine Pipe ceremony?”
“Yes? What about it?”
“My father married us, as the spirits directed him.”
“Did he? I wouldn’t know. The ceremony was in Blackfeet and I didn’t understand it.”
“But you smoked the pipe.”
“Only because you told me I had to.” She glanced over her shoulder to see if there might be enough light to observe his reaction to these words. There wasn’t. After a moment, however, he said, “And would you have refused to smoke, even when my father offered the pipe to you?”
Kali paused. Of course she wouldn’t have done so; it would have been the height of bad manners. But there was little point in telling him so.
It was an odd thing that happened next, because she felt him take a step toward her. It wasn’t that she heard him, for he made no noise. No, she could actually feel him, his presence, coming closer and closer to her.
He spoke, a direct reminder that he was much too near for comfort, and he said, “Do you remember our first kiss?”
She took a step forward, away from him. “I…I’m not sure.”
He ignored her. “It was then,” he said, “that I realized who you were, and I loved you. I thought you then the most beautiful, the most perfect human being I have ever seen.”
“No one is perfect.”
“I’m not sure. You seemed to be to me.”
“Well, I’m not.”
He took another step toward her. This time she heard it. He said, “But I was wrong.”
Did he mean he didn’t love her? Or that she wasn’t flawless? She said, “Yes, yes, I know. I’ve already told you that I’m not infallible in my actions, though I do try to do the right thing.”
