Wolf Shadow’s Promise

by Karen Kay

  “Humph. I did not know that. And what, do you think, should the Indian do about this?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I truly don’t. Perhaps what you are already doing?”

  “Humph!” Moon Wolf had bent down over his pet as though he listened for its heartbeat, and Alys was struck at once by the look of her husband’s pitch black locks, coarse and wet, against the gray-brown fur of the wolf. She reached out to touch a droplet of water where it fell from a single tress of his hair, the feel of the liquid cold and invigorating against her hand.

  He raised his head in reaction to her, his eyes staring straight into hers, his look for a moment full of carnal interest. He quickly turned his gaze away.

  She tilted her head and studied him. He had to be the most handsome man of her acquaintance. Her gaze roamed over him lazily, as though she might have several years in which to examine him.

  She smiled then, leisurely, before saying, “Maybe I also feel no prejudice because my mother raised me differently than other children. From the beginning of my life, I remember the scorn my mother showed to the townspeople who lived here at Fort Benton, the care she displayed to the Indian maids who served her and others. She, more than anyone I know, hated prejudice.”

  “Your mother is a good woman. Almost as good as her daughter.”

  “Hmmm.” She raised her eyes to his, only to find him watching her. She ventured, “And now it’s your turn to answer the same question.”

  He caught her eye. “Oki, come,” he commanded, then motioned toward her with his right hand as he stood up, his movement so graceful she knew she would never be able to duplicate it. “Let us leave Wolf,” he explained, “and allow him to sleep without us talking over him.”

  “Yes,” she agreed and stood up, following Moon Wolf.

  He led her to his own blanket, where he at once sat down, cross-legged, pulling back the blanket and lifting out an object that looked to be very much like a pipe.

  With a beauty of grace and some ceremony, he stuffed tobacco into its pot, held it up, and lit it, slowly brushing the smoke in toward his head. Then he offered it to her.

  She almost choked. “You want me to smoke?”

  He nodded.

  “Even though I am only a woman.”

  He gave her a puzzling glance. “Only? Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t really have a reason. It’s just that I thought that your women do not sit in council, nor do they smoke, and so—”

  He paused significantly, letting her words trail away before he began, “Let me tell you a story that my grandfather once told me, so that you will understand the Indian a little better.

  “Once, a long time ago,” he continued, not waiting for her reply, “Old Man, or Napi, ruled the world. But it was a very boring world. Men stayed with men; women with women. Men went to war with each other, but they had no clothes and no lodges in which to rest. They ate raw meat and had no comforts.

  “Now, the women had many beautiful things and great lodges, but no one to provide for them or to give them protection.

  “And so it happened that Napi, seeing this, bargained with the women, taking the wisest and most intelligent woman as his own. All the other men did the same and soon, all was in great harmony.

  “It was only when this happened that our men began to develop compassion and valor. But a man only kept his heart so long as he had nurtured and stayed with his woman. My people have a saying, mat’-ah-kwi tam-ap-i-ni-po-ke-mi-o-sin, ‘Not found is happiness without woman.’

  “It has been the way of the people since that time to honor our women and to uphold and protect their place in our society. And as you know, we have flourished, at least until recently.”

  Alys sat for a moment in silence before whispering, “That’s a beautiful story.”

  “Aa, yes, so it is. So now you know that it is the woman who nurtures the zest and the very life of our people. While a man may fight and die, so long as our women are strong, so long as they live and are allowed to create the art and beauty that is naturally theirs, our people will grow and thrive. For theirs is the life-blood of our people, our very heart.” He finished in silence.

  A long moment followed. “That is a very beautiful way of putting it.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, then held the pipe out to her again. This time she took it, bringing it to her lips. Hesitatingly, she drew in the smoke and sent him a speculative gaze, seemingly all right for a moment. But her composure couldn’t last. All at once, a look of pure revulsion crossed her face, then a fit of coughing.

  He merely observed her calmly, commenting, “You have not smoked before.”

  She shook her head, one hand going to her throat, the other offering the pipe back to him.

  He nodded and, taking the object into his hands, balanced the stem of it over his legs. He said, “Know that the smoke from the pipe is sacred. It calls upon the ancient ones above us to take part in our council. Know that whatever we say here must be the truth. Do you agree?”

  She nodded acceptance.

  He didn’t speak at once, but having started, he spoke slowly and deliberately. “It is hard for me to think well of the white man and so, as you have pointed out, maybe that makes me prejudiced. I see that he takes our land by treachery, I see that he sells my people into slavery for the mere price of a drink, and I see that he degrades our women in ways foreign to an Indian mind. You ask me if I am prejudiced. I will tell you true that I have not seen much about him that is good.” He looked at her, passing the pipe back to her.

  She accepted the sacred item into her hands, carefully avoiding inhaling any more smoke. Observing him, she held it in the same manner as he, and only then did she begin. “I understand what you say. But there are other people, other whites, that are not like these people here in the fort. Besides, I am white. If you would hate all whites, would that not extend to me, too?”

  She gave him back the pipe.

  His look swept over her slim body before he responded, “You are white in flesh alone. Your heart is Indian.”

  She sighed. “Take a good look, Moon Wolf. I am not Indian.”

  He gave her a stern look before at last capitulating, saying, “It is true.”

  “There are many white people who would be ashamed if they knew what is happening here to the Indians,” she continued. “I am not alone in my way of thinking. But most of these people live far from here, to the east. They are not people you are likely to encounter in the west.” She glanced over to him.

  “Why do they not come here and stop their own brothers, then, these other white men, if these people truly do not approve?”

  She shrugged. “Most cannot make the journey here. They have their own work, their own families to attend to. It is not an inexpensive thing to do—to make this trip. Besides, just as the red man wars with his own kind, so, too, does the white man argue with his brothers.”

  He nodded.

  “Most people have to trust our government to do the right thing.”

  “Humph!” he sneered. “The white man’s government. Is this the same power that tries to put the Indian on reservations, that takes away his freedom, that sells him cheap whiskey and spoiled food?”

  She caught her breath, the hatred in his words so distinct. Of course, it was easy to empathize with his concern, and he did have justification for the way he felt. Still…“I understand, Moon Wolf,” she said sincerely, “but tell me true. Are all Indians honest and just? Can you tell me that there is no Indian any place that has never committed a wrong to you or to your family?”

  He remained silent.

  “Do not do it, Moon Wolf. Do not, yourself, become as prejudiced and as hateful as some of the white men here in this fort. Because if you do,” she proffered, her voice soft, “you will have learned too well the wrong lesson. You will have begun to hate. And when that happens, well, they couldn’t have done a better job on you than if they’d painted you white and plucked the fea
thers from your head, because you will have become just like them.”

  He signed acquiescence. “What you say is good, but it is innocent, too; you have been gone from here for a long time. Hear me, my wife, no amount of talk will bring back the dead, nor put an end to the injustices being done to my people. I cannot abide by it. And I will never stop my resistance until these wrongs no longer fill our land.”

  She tilted her head toward him and frowned. “But do you need to hate all white men in order to have your triumph?”

  “You do not know all of the injustices done to my people.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Humph. If you did know of these things, you might not ask me these questions.”

  She sighed. “You are right. But you must also know I speak the truth, too. Once you begin to hate, you have become just like the white man. Is that what you want?”

  “Humph,” was again his reply. He folded his arms over his chest. “I will think on it. That is what I will do. I will think. And now, I have spoken…”

  Chapter 11

  Sitting up a little straighter, Moon Wolf took hold of his pipe and flicked the ashes onto the floor, signalling with his hands for her to take note of what he did. “Do you see what I do here?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is how a council should end. When the ashes are discarded, the evening is finished and one’s friends go home. And so it is with ours, too. Our talk is finished.”

  “Good,” she said, “except that…” She stopped and cast a look around the caves, at their familiarity, hoping these walls might give her courage.

  He gave her a level look.

  “There is one other thing that I would ask you.”

  He nodded, but otherwise remained silent.

  She cleared her throat and sent up a silent prayer before she began, “I would know…” Her voice cracked. “I would have you teach me, please…the…ah…” She stared down at the floor, up, then glanced all around. “The best ways to…to…”

  He examined her curiously, patiently waiting.

  “To please a man,” she finished in one quick sentence, casting her eyes down at the same time. She held her breath, more than a little mortified at herself. But she had to know.

  He, on the other hand, became even more serious, a shrouded mask stealing down over his features, effectively concealing his thoughts. He frowned at her as he asked, “You do not know how to do this already?”

  She shook her head.

  He sighed, deeply; very, very deeply. At length, he asked, “Do not the women in your culture prepare you for these things?”

  “No, it is not something one discusses at all, except with one’s…husband.”

  “Humph! Then it is good that you have asked me.”

  She waited.

  “But I will not, I cannot speak of it.”

  “Why not?”

  He paused, his silence meant to be her answer. At length, however, he said, “You are making this very difficult for me.”

  “Making what difficult for you?”

  He groaned, his eyes begging her for understanding. “You ask me to do something that I cannot do,” he said. “You ask me to discuss something that will only end in one way. I do not want to hurt you.”

  “But it seems to me that if you don’t do this, then you will be hurting me.”

  “Haiya!” He groaned. “No harm will come to you at all. Why are you so persistent about this?”

  “Because…” Why was she? She sat back, momentarily baffled. “Because,” she began again, “I fear that if I don’t, I will hurt you.”

  He raised his chin, the look in his eyes showing her that he clearly disagreed with her. He said, “I assure you that no harm will come to me.”

  “And I am afraid,” she went on as though he hadn’t spoken, “that if I let this pass, a barrier will be erected between us that will be harder and harder to break down. So I am asking this of you. Please, Moon Wolf, you are my husband. Teach me.”

  He groaned, a very masculine, seductive sound. She could even feel the heat of his gaze as he glanced at her. He commented, “You must not speak to me in this way. Do you have any idea the kind of effect this has on me? Do you tease me?”

  If only she were. She didn’t answer, just stared at him, her own eyes drinking in the sensuality of him.

  He shifted. “We should not again indulge ourselves in the weaknesses of the flesh.” But even as he spoke, she could feel him relenting.

  He shifted his weight until, looking decidedly uncomfortable, he stared off, away from her.

  “Moon Wolf,” she touched his arm, “I need to know how to please you. I fear that I did not do that very well during our first time together.”

  He brought his gaze back to her, the tortured look in his stare so intent that she thought she might burn up under the heat of it. Up and down her face his eyes wandered, down further still, to her bosom, until all at once, he uttered, the words sounding as though they were torn from his throat, “You say these things to me and I fear you would test the last of my reserve. I should keep my distance from you, should set you free. Yet, even as I know this, even as I think it and say it, look at me and what I do. I am as unable to keep from touching you as I am to keep myself from breathing.”

  As though to prove it, he drew her to him, his touch firm and insistent as he pulled her over his lap and into his embrace. “You must tell me to stop,” he muttered, but his lips came down on hers in a kiss that shook her to the tips of her toes. “Tell me now,” he pleaded again, but she could not have spoken at this moment had she wished to do so. And she did not so desire.

  Her stomach dropped, twisted, and she buried her face in his neck, content for the moment. For she sensed, no matter his obvious frustration with himself, he complimented her, and she responded with every bit of femininity she had. In truth, she arched herself further into his embrace.

  “Aa, you are innocent, much too innocent. And I should let you go free.”

  “Yet we are married,” she commented. “You have every right to—”

  “Sh-h-h. Do not tell me these things.”

  “But if we are married…”

  A deep groan escaped him, the sound pure seduction. “The fault is mine.”

  “What fault?”

  He straightened his spine, jerking his head to the left before he answered, “Just because we are married does not mean our problems no longer exist. All that I have told you is still true. We might be married, might love one another more than any other two people alive, but the dilemma of where we will live, where we will raise our children—if I live—still remain.”

  “But—”

  “Yet, even as I know this,” he continued, “I cannot stop touching you.” He shoved up her top as he spoke, his fingers spreading over her breasts.

  “Moon Wolf, you must know that I want this as much as you.”

  He nodded. “Aa, I know. And that knowledge is my enemy, I think. I am the one who is supposed to be composed, the one able to think no matter the strength of our passion. Yet, do you know how easy it would be for me to…”

  A soft whimper left her lips, followed by a hoarse growl from him. She uttered, “Please.”

  Perhaps it was her voice that proved to be his undoing, maybe her plea; suddenly he tumbled her back onto his blanketed bed, pulling her shirt off with ease, up and over her head. She reached out toward him, tugging on his pants.

  But his stomach muscles contracted to hold her hands in place. His pants remained where they were, at least for the moment.

  She whimpered, “Don’t you want me to love you?”

  He made a sound that was half desire, half frustration. “You must know that I have wanted to make love to you since the first moment I saw you again.”

  “From the very first moment?”

  “Aa, from then.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  He threw back his head and gave her a look, his eyes piercing hers with
a hunger that shattered her self-control. Surely, he must want her as she wanted him. Surely.

  He said, “I cannot have you. Please try to understand, if I touch you in the way of passion, I would ruin you for any other man.”

  That statement gave her pause. “What did you say?”

  He drew a deep breath. “You came here into my life, knowing that my life could end at any time.”

  “As could anyone’s.”

  “But look at the difference. Look at what I have chosen to do with my life. Since it could end in an instant, I would ensure that you would be cared for when I am gone.”

  “But, Moon Wolf, you are not gone.”

  “That does not matter. My life could end tomorrow.”

  “Mine could, too. I don’t think you are being sensible about this thing. Another man is not the answer.”

  “It is the only way…if I am gone. Surely you can understand this.”

  She turned around until she faced him, coming up at the same time onto her knees, unembarrassed by the fullness of her breasts, extended out toward him, within his reach.

  She said, “No, I don’t understand. I don’t want anyone else. And I might never want anyone else.”

  “But I must secure your future.”

  “Fine.” She inched forward until her breasts were a mere hairsbreadth away from him. She could almost feel the nervousness within him. She commented, “I think you are thinking so much in the future, that you forget that there is a great deal of pleasure in the present.”

  “I do not forget,” he said, even while he began a light massage upon her, the action sending tiny flickers of sensation coursing though her. She curled herself into his arms.

  He moaned, “I do not need this right now.”

  “Yet we are joined as husband and wife.”

  He groaned and threw back his head. “All right,” he said, “I will make love to you. Still, you must understand that I will not make love to you in a way that could get you with child.”

  “Fine,” she responded, arching her back into him invitingly. She asked, “Even if I desire it?”