by Karen Kay
“Oh.” She looked elsewhere, anywhere but at him.
“Are you finished?”
“I—”
“Then we will continue.”
“Don’t throw me over the horse,” she commanded. “It is uncomfortable.”
“Then you must promise me you will not try to jump down from the animal and squirm about. Do you promise?”
She set her lips together, and he shook his head.
“You make this difficult for me.”
“That’s your problem.”
He grinned at her slightly. “That it is. But it is also yours. Still, there is another position that might be more comfortable for you, my wife.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He frowned. “Do you want others to think bad of you?”
“I don’t care what others think of me…here. Besides, I have no acquaintances in this land—except for you, of course.”
“And it does not bother you what I think?”
“Why should it? Why should I care what a man who has the audacity to throw me over a horse should—?”
“I placed you gently upon its back.”
“You threw me,” she contradicted. “So why should I care what you think?”
“I do not know why.”
She shrugged. “Well, I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. You care very much.”
“Humph!”
“Indeed, so much do you care, that you are furious with me for not allowing you your freedom.”
“Stop it, do you hear? Stop it.” Jumping up suddenly, she ran to the pony, vaulting onto it. She had almost attained her seating too, when, having followed her, he reached up and pulled her to the ground. He held her by the wrists.
“You are breaking your promise,” he spat at her. “You gave me your word that you would not try to escape.”
“And you have broken your promise to me. We are even.”
“We are not even. I did not promise.”
“Let me go! Do you understand?” She wiggled out of his grip and turned, as if to run. But he caught her. “Let me go!”
“I cannot.”
They fought then, in earnest, she twisting and squirming, he trying to hold her steady. They struggled against each other, and at last he became the victor, but only after he had wrestled her once more to the ground.
She lay face up, the dry grass and rocks scratching her backside. He adjusted himself over her, holding her hands above her head.
“You did promise,” she accused.
He chose not to dignify her allegation with a response.
After a while, she demanded again, “Let me go.” She glared daggers at him.
They were both breathing heavily, but she wasn’t about to cause the same mistake she had done the last time by attempting to scream. She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to be as resistant as possible to any form of a kiss.
He said, “I will release you if you give me your word that you will not run away. But you must keep your word. If you don’t, I will tie you and not let you go again.”
She gaped up at him silently, his handsome features—made more so by the shimmery moonlight—swimming in her line of vision. “I will never promise you anything. Do you understand? Never. If I am to be a captive, it is your problem to keep me with you and contain my struggles.”
“Then I cannot release you.”
She didn’t respond.
He said, “Here we are, on this balmy night. Though you fight me, I think you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. The moonlight is indeed your friend, my wife.”
She remained silent, but when he didn’t move and didn’t make an effort to say more, she repeated, “You can get off me now.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did I hear you promise me that you would not run away?”
“I will not promise you anything.”
“Then I would be foolish to remove myself.”
She turned her head away from him, tears of frustration pooling in her eyes.
He must have seen them, for he asked, “Do you cry?”
“Of course I am crying. I am disheartened.”
“And that is the only reason you cry?”
She bit her lip, refusing to say more.
He groaned and rolled to the side of her, though he kept one arm and one leg thrown over her. With some reluctance he said, “You have made your point.”
“Oh? Really? And what point is that?”
He sighed. “I will do it.”
“What? What will you do?”
“I will take you to the trading post instead of going on to the forest.”
Instantly, she went still. “I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to.”
She hesitated, then, “You will?”
He nodded, but she could barely see the gesture. “However, we will not be able to take the pony, for our safety will rely completely on my ability to move across the prairie undetected. So I can do that, you will have to learn a little about the prairie itself, for you must become a scout.”
She eagerly bobbed her head.
“And if I do this, if I teach you how to scout, I must have your promise that you will use every bit of your power to learn these skills—and quickly.”
“I will,” she said at once. “I promise.”
“And there is one more thing.”
“Oh?” Cautious, she raised an eyebrow. “What is that?”
“You must swear to me that you will obey me, no matter what I say, and at once. For if there is trouble, I will not have the leisure to explain myself. Do you agree?”
She hesitated. “Whatever you say?”
He breathed out heavily, as though she did much to frustrate him. “If there is trouble.”
“Oh, very well then. I agree.”
“It is well. I will make a camp here so I can fashion a few weapons from stone and begin your instruction in how to become the spirit of the wolf.”
She stared at him, simply stared at this man’s uncommon handsomeness. “Spirit of the wolf?”
“Hau. In an Indian village, this is what we call our scouts.”
“I see,” she said, and then she did the unexpected. Without a single word, she threw her arms around Grey Coyote and whispered, “Thank you.”
Chapter Twelve
“To be a scout,” he instructed, “you must become accustomed to the wilderness. You must begin to think of it as your home, and you must feel as comfortable here as you would in your England.”
She nodded.
It was early morning. The sun was up in the eastern sky, but barely, its pinks and reds diffused across the barren landscape, welcoming in the new day with color. Both Marietta and Grey Coyote were seated in the gully, on the ground. There was no fire between them, but a breakfast of dried meat had appeased their hunger.
Her first lesson had begun, and she was instructed to learn it well, for she and Grey Coyote would begin their travels that evening.
“Mother Earth will provide everything for you,” Grey Coyote was saying. “All of your needs, be they food, medicines or weapons. But you must open your heart and your mind. You must become one with all existence.”
“Become one with existence?”
He nodded. “There is a oneness with nature. A feeling of belonging, of being part of it. It is true power. We are, all of us, connected. Every living creature is part and parcel of every other living creature. When you can feel that aliveness, that oneness with all life, you have then truly become a scout.”
“But I don’t understand.”
“Close your eyes and tell me, what do you see a mile away from here?”
She chortled. “I can’t see a mile away from here.”
“Yes, you can,” he encouraged. “Keep your eyes closed and feel the life that is around you.”
She tried to do as he said.
“Can you sense that boulder?”
Heaven forbid, she d
id perceive something. She asked, albeit a little shyly, “Is it to my left?”
“It is. I am proud of you. You can do this.”
“But that was quite close to me.”
“It does not matter,” he responded. “How far away something is is not important. It is not the distance that matters, it is one’s feeling of belonging to all life. Now, tell me, what do you discern in the far distance from here?”
She tried to look. She tried very hard, but at last she shook her head. “Nothing. I can’t do this.”
“You can. But it is perhaps too soon. You must practice. You must sit here. You must close your eyes and feel the life around you, for there is much activity here. You must permit yourself to become part of it, to be it. We are all of us connected. You need only to sense that connection, and the rest is easy, for all your needs are provided by our Mother, the earth.”
“But—”
“This is why it is important to take care of the earth.” He expanded on the thought. “All life needs her, as she needs us. We are all joined by the life that flows through every living creature. This is why you must remember that to destroy something beautiful in the earth is to destroy something beautiful in yourself.”
She sat for a moment in thought. “I understand. You reap what you sow.”
He nodded. “The life force which one uses to destroy another is one’s own life force. It comes from none other than oneself. That energy exists as surely as the air you breathe, and it will come back to you, for you are the one who emanated it. And so it is that what one receives is good, or is bad, according to what one puts out into the world.”
She gazed up at him. Her throat constricted, as though she were experiencing deep emotion. In some way, somehow, what Grey Coyote was saying…touched her.
“How have you managed to become aware of all this?”
“My grandfathers. And they learned from their grandfathers before them. But come, there is more you should know.” Holding out his hand, he pulled her to her feet. “The first duty one must keep in mind when he is scouting is that one must avoid all man-made and animal trails. In truth, a scout avoids all trails. And a scout never uses the same path twice.”
Marietta tried earnestly to understand. After all, she had promised him to learn all she could as quickly as possible. However, she had a few questions. “But if you avoid all trails, how do you know where you’re going?”
“There are other landmarks one can use to tell one’s way. The sun is used during the day, the seven brothers at night, for they will point you to the Star that Stands Still, the North Star.”
“Seven brothers?”
“The white man calls these stars the Big Dipper. But the Indians call it the seven brothers.”
“Really? Why seven brothers?”
“It is from an old Cheyenne legend. In the legend, seven brothers escaped into the sky to avoid death. It is an excellent legend, and perhaps it is because of this that many of the surrounding tribes have come to adopt the name for this group of stars.”
“I see.” She nodded. “Will you tell it to me?”
“Hau, but perhaps at a later time. For now, I will give you lessons on how never to get lost.”
“Really?”
He simply smiled at her. “Hau, hau. It is easy to find the seven brothers in the sky, for they are always in view unless it is cloudy. And from the brothers, one can gain direction and can ascertain how early or late it is in the evening, for the brothers rotate around the Star that Stands Still.”
“Yes, yes. I do know that.”
“Good. Now to find your way, you have only to take the two stars at the very end of the cup and make a straight line upward from them. The first star you will come to is the Star that Stands Still.”
“I didn’t know that.”
He inclined his head. “Then it is good we have discussed this, for you should never be lost again. Tonight, when we are on the trail, I will have you trace this path in the sky so you can see how easily it is done.”
“I would like that,” she answered with a smile.
“Remember once you can determine north—for the Star that Stands Still points north always—you have only to set your course accordingly until at last you come across landmarks which you know.”
“Ah, I see how it’s done. Well, I must say, this is an enlightening lesson to have learned.” She wrinkled her brow. “But what if it’s a cloudy night and you can’t see the stars? Do you simply not travel?”
“There is always a means to find your way. When it is cloudy, one notes the course of the wind, which, depending on the season, comes from a particular direction. One can set one’s path by this.”
“The wind?”
“Hau,” he said. “The wind. Now, when we leave here tonight, I will tell you the direction we must go, and you will lead me.”
“I? But—”
“It is the only way to learn.” He peered at her as though he were trying to read her mind. “But there is much time before evening, and there is yet one more skill you must know, a very important skill.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
“How to travel as a scout. Because a scout must remain invisible to be effective. A scout must set his mind to traveling through the most difficult regions of the plains.”
“What do you mean by difficult regions?”
“The swamps, the bushes, the places no one would think to travel. On the prairie, only men in great numbers can afford to keep to the easier paths. A scout goes where no one else wants to go, where no one else would think to go. Thus he remains invisible. So that you might understand this further, it is a subject of shame for a scout to be seen when he is on a mission for his people. A scout is powerful, and his skills are only valuable to others and to his tribe when he remains undetected.”
“I think I begin to understand.” She bobbed her head slightly. “But how can one become invisible? It isn’t as though a person is invisible. And a scout must walk, or crawl. He must exert some motion. Can’t that be seen?”
“This is a good question,” Grey Coyote validated. “Yet a scout must for all practical purposes be invisible, and there are several ways for him to do so. One is to blend into the environment—to take on its color and aspects so well it would be hard for another to distinguish the scout from the land. Another is to camouflage oneself as an animal, perhaps one that is often seen on the prairie.”
“Ah. Like a buffalo? You make yourself up to look like a buffalo.”
He shook his head. “It is the wolf. Wolves are a common animal on the plains. Few warriors, even when they see them, pay attention to the wolf, or kill them, either, for there is a saying that a bow which shoots a wolf will never shoot straight again.”
“Hmmm…” She furrowed her brow. “So are you saying that in order to make ourselves invisible, we’ll become like wolves?”
“Hiya, no. We cannot because I have no means to make us appear as wolves. A wolf skin is often kept for this purpose, but I have none with me. Nor do I wish to kill a wolf in order to obtain its skin. Instead, we will disguise ourselves in another way.”
“Oh? What way is that?”
He pointed off to the small stream that gurgled merrily through the gully.
“We’re going to wade in water?”
He smiled gently, shaking his head. “Come. I will show you.”
Taking her hand in his own, he led her to the water.
They squatted next to the stream, and Grey Coyote, picking up her hand, directed it to the different textures of the soil, asking her to identify each one. “What do you feel here?”
“Mostly sand,” she replied.
“That is true. There is much sand, and sandstone. You see it in the cliffs. But is there anything else?”
“Hmmm… Well, there’s dirt and clay.”
“Hau, there is dirt and clay. And do you see this clay is the same color as the soil, and that it is also the same shade as the dry, golden grass?”
“This is good. We will paint our bodies with this clay.” He eyed her with a fair degree of wariness, as though he expected her to suddenly burst into flames. “I cannot emphasize enough that a scout must remain as invisible to his environment as possible. Now the first thing you must do to make yourself invisible is to strip down to only the barest necessities of clothing.”
At first Marietta laughed, certain he was taunting her. But when he remained solemn, she said, “Surely you jest.”
“I do not,” he assured her quietly. “You must strip away most of your clothes. I will do so also, although I do not wear as many as you.”
“But—”
He held up his hand. “Consider this. When scouting, one will be trudging through swamps and valleys, bushes and brambles. Clothing can snag, can tear, and if your clothes are also excessive, they will burden you. If you continue to wear a dress as big as this one”—he touched its cloth—“it will hinder you. It might also catch on branches or pricks, and will leave a trace of you behind that even a neglectful warrior may see and follow.”
“Oh. Of course. I begin to understand.” She looked away from him awkwardly. “But there is one thing you have failed to consider…”
He raised an eyebrow.
“And that is that everything I am wearing is a necessity.”
His look at her was amused. “Perhaps these things are so in the white man’s world, but they are not here on the prairie, and particularly not if you wish to look as though you are a part of the environment. Come, it will be a great pleasure to help you remove your clothes one by one—and we will discover what your basic necessities are. That is unless you wish to go naked.” His grin at her was full of humor. “It is not something to which I would object.”
She wagged her finger at him, smiling, and she started to respond in kind, but suddenly Grey Coyote froze mid-action, brought up his gaze to scan his environment, and before she could say a word, he placed a finger over her lips. Motioning her to silence, he came down on all fours, put his ear to the ground and lay there for a good few minutes. She followed him down, resting on her knees.
Before long he sat up, looked at her, and said under his breath, “A war party approaches.”
