Frontier Courtship

by Valerie Hansen

  A half smile lifted the corner of Hawk’s mouth as he nodded in agreement. “Sounds good to me, too. Only there’s something you should know first, Miss Faith.”

  “What now? Will you be painting me red, too? I know I should still be in mourning for Mama.”

  “Oh, no, nothing quite so easy to bear, I’m afraid. You see, from puberty on, Arapaho brothers and sisters are not permitted to speak to one another. As my sister, you would be expected to keep totally silent in my presence and not dare to even look at me, no matter what.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Connell’s smile grew. “Something told me you wouldn’t cotton to those rules. Of course, if you want me as a big brother instead of an uncle I have no objections.”

  Faith knew he was having fun at her expense, a conclusion that bruised her pride. Granted, she talked a lot but what did he expect under the circumstances? She needed to learn as much as she could before reaching the Indian camp or she might break some obscure Native taboo and inadvertently get them all into terrible trouble.

  As for her habit of staring at Connell so much of the time, well, she couldn’t help that. Not really. She’d tried to keep from gawking and had succeeded in subduing her yearning only enough to limit it to the instances when she didn’t think he’d notice the undue attention. Obviously, she had not been nearly as surreptitious as she’d fancied.

  And now, both he and Ab were laughing at her. Well, let them. For the present she had little choice about anything, including her traveling companions, and it was of no consequence whether or not she was happy about the trying situation. Later, when they had rescued Irene and put Tucker in his place, she’d speak her mind. Until then she intended to play the acquiescent compatriot even if it galled her something awful to do so.

  Faith never saw any guards outside the Arapaho camp, which, of course, didn’t mean there had been none. The thing that did astound her was the noise of so many barking dogs and the shouts coming from the horde of people who flocked out of the teepees and gathered around them as soon as they entered the camp circle.

  Looking down from atop her mount at the hundreds of stern-looking Indians pushing in on them, she found herself much more breathlessly frightened than she had imagined she would be.

  As if reading her mind, Connell reached over and patted her hands, taking the reins of her horse from her without protest to lead her farther into the fray.

  Faith felt a bent old crone tugging on her skirt and forced a brief smile of greeting, only to be met with a toothless sneer. Most of the men, as well as the children, were nearly naked. For the most part the people were thin and muscular, with the men being taller than those few old women she could see.

  In the distance, younger women watched in relative silence, some balancing babies on their hips or packing them in cradle-boards decorated with brightly dyed porcupine quill designs. The designs looked the same as the ones on the beautiful doeskin rifle scabbard Connell treasured so.

  “We should have brought gifts,” he called back to Faith. “Too bad there wasn’t time to at least hunt on our way here.”

  Her reply was thin, quavering, in spite of her brave front. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Without comment, Connell swung down off his horse and began to make hand signals to an impressive-looking man.

  Faith took him to be the chief, due to the deference everyone else was paying him and to the larger-sized teepee from which he had emerged.

  The entire group of Arapaho stepped back abruptly, leaving Connell and the Indian standing alone inside a tightly packed outer circle of taciturn braves.

  Faith was intensely glad she had not insisted she play the part of Connell’s sister, because she couldn’t have taken her eyes off him at that moment if their lives had depended upon it. He was magnificent! Standing tall and strong, he faced the Arapaho leader as an equal, showing no fear, while he made sign language with his hands.

  The surrounding din was such that she couldn’t hear whether he was also speaking aloud, although she assumed he must be. The bits and snatches of language she could hear in the background were foreign sounding. Some had a lilting quality that fascinated her, making the hair at the back of her neck prickle in primitive warning at the same time.

  The chief finally shook Connell’s hand, nodded, then made a sweeping signal with his arm. To her amazement the mob on that side of the camp divided into two halves as obediently as she imagined the Red Sea must have parted for Moses!

  Connell made some apparently corresponding motions then returned to stand beside her horse and speak briefly. “Irene was here, like Ab said, but the hunters I talked to were right about her being with Black Kettle now. His camp is over that ridge to the west. We’ll have to hurry. All the tribes are getting ready to start their move toward winter quarters.”

  Faith nodded. Connell’s demeanor remained cautious and rather stilted as he mounted Rojo, adding to her already considerable nervousness. He obviously knew the chief to whom he had been talking, yet it seemed as though their relationship was not an overly friendly one in spite of his earlier references to his late wife’s people.

  She fell into line behind him, with Ab closely following, and they rode through the legion of braves. Waiting till they had cleared the camp, she finally gathered the courage to ask, “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” Connell said quietly aside.

  “What about gifts? Don’t we need to get some to ransom Irene? And what are we going to do with Ab, drag him along all the way?”

  “I should have made you my sister,” he muttered.

  Faith was not subdued enough by his obviously disapproving tone to give up completely. “I just wondered.”

  Connell relented. “Ab will be staying with Black Kettle as a willing slave, if the chief will have him—by his own choice, I might add.”

  She frowned. “Who was that noble Indian we just left? He acted awfully important.”

  “He is. Chief Bull Bear was my wife’s second cousin,” Hawk explained, glancing back over his shoulder at the circle of teepees behind them. He was speaking softly, as if the wind might carry his words back to the chief’s ears even at that great distance.

  “You’re considered related to him, right?” The assumption made her feel a lot safer in their present circumstances.

  “I was, yes. No one was pleased when Little Rabbit Woman married a white man, but I made enough gifts to the family after our marriage to atone for her supposed sins and they ultimately accepted me as one of their own.”

  “Then why are you acting so uneasy?”

  “Now that my wife is dead, I don’t have as secure a place in the tribe as I once did.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” Faith asked, nudging the sorrel in the flanks to keep up.

  “Yes,” he said. “Bull Bear knew all about my family history. I had never mentioned having a brother, let alone a niece, so he suspects I lied about you. He’s willing to overlook it for now, but there’s no telling what he might do to save face if he learned the entire truth about your past, especially regarding Tucker. He hates emigrants. Wagon trains carried cholera to the plains last year. Many tribes saw half their members die of the white man’s sickness.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “My sentiments, exactly. Now, if you’re through asking questions, let’s make tracks.”

  Trembling, she reined her horse and fell in behind him, praying silently for God’s guidance and strength in the trials yet to come.

  Faith seldom took her eyes off Hawk’s broad back until they were within sight of the second camp.

  Hundreds of teepees stood in an enormous circle, their outer walls shimmering and pale beneath the blazing sun as wisps of gray smoke rose through the openings at the peaks.

  Off to one side, a group of women had pegged buffalo hides to the ground and were kneeling next to them, removing the last remnants of fat with handheld scrapers of bone and antler. Nearby, little girls were pret
ending to be busy at the same task as they mimicked their mothers.

  Faith looked over at them and smiled, remembering her own childhood and the way she’d wanted to be exactly like her mother in every way. Oh, how she wished she were a carefree child again, at home with her parents, instead of being led through hostile territory into goodness knows what kind of awful danger.

  That sobering thought was enough to destroy the brief camaraderie she’d been feeling in regard to the other women and girls and make her once again assess the Indian camp with a critical eye. Many Cheyenne had lifted and tied up the skins lining the lower several feet of their teepees, apparently to take advantage of any cooling breezes. That was certainly sensible, given the weather of late.

  Faith sighed. The flat, nearly treeless prairie radiated heat like an iron skillet. Without her slat bonnet or a hat of any kind, she was a helpless victim of the sun. She yearned to raise her hand, to shade her eyes so she could better observe the details of the village, but hesitated sensibly. Any untoward movement, especially one which could be construed as fear or aggression, would be very foolish. She wasn’t about to do anything that might trigger an attack response. She and her companions were obviously in enough hot water already.

  Ahead, Connell rode slowly into the circle of teepees, his back ramrod straight, and she followed. It was clear that their imminent arrival had been expected. Faith assumed Bull Bear must have sent word to his Cheyenne cohorts, because their little threesome was not creating nearly the furor it had in the other camp, although a few little boys did stop their stick horses and lower their play bows and arrows to watch the unusual party pass by.

  Dogs of all sizes and descriptions set up an awful din, some even darting out to nip at her horse’s heels, but other than that, very few Cheyenne ceased their daily labors. Nor did fierce-looking warriors seem to be gathering in the numbers she had seen in the Arapaho village.

  Maybe Connell had been worried about their situation for nothing, Faith mused, trying to convince herself more than anything. Perhaps he had borrowed trouble simply because he’d felt so uncomfortable facing his former Arapaho relatives.

  And maybe the reverse was true, she added with dismay as her thoughts came full circle. Given Hawk’s Indian background and his awareness of her stubborn temperament, perhaps he was minimizing their danger merely to keep her from worrying or trying to help. If he felt he had a choice, would he tell her about the inherent dangers of their journey or would he hide them from her?

  She knew the answer to those unsettling questions as well as she knew her own name. Hawk McClain would not have told her any details about their shared peril if he had felt there was an alternative way to govern her thoughts, words and actions.

  Consequently, they were no doubt muddled in a far bigger predicament than she’d so far imagined and she wished mightily that she had not been quite so quick to figure out the truth.

  The question now was, how personally risky was the trouble they were about to face? And what could she hope to do about it, unarmed as she now was—thanks to him—other than pray more fervently than she had before?

  Prayer, she concluded, was a very good idea.

  Chapter Ten

  “Black Kettle is generally not warlike, but don’t expect him to be as genial to us as Bull Bear,” Connell warned aside, preparing Faith for their upcoming encounter.

  “You’re certain this is where we’ll find Irene?”

  “I hope so. Black Kettle bought her from the Arapaho. If he didn’t turn around and sell her to another chief, she’ll be here.”

  Faith could tell from the set of his jaw and the way his chin jutted out that he was anything but pleased to hear that his future wife had been traded like a prized horse or a bundle of bright cloth. Still, she was alive. There was that to be thankful for.

  “What else did you find out?”

  “Not much more,” Connell said. “I do know she’s unmarried, which is a surprise. Apparently she’s been living with an old Arapaho medicine man. They say he’s the only one who’s not afraid of her magic, so Black Kettle bought them as a pair.”

  “Magic? What magic?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. All Bull Bear would say was that she can make the heavens sing and the earth tremble whenever she wants.”

  “Dear me.”

  “I expect I’ll be invited to sit and smoke with the Cheyenne,” Connell explained, reining in his horse and leaning closer to speak with her more privately. “I plan to refuse to leave you behind with Ab, but there are some rules you’ll need to observe no matter what happens.”

  “Go on.”

  Her tone was so compliant, so cooperative, Connell raised one eyebrow and studied her expression for a few moments before continuing. “If Black Kettle doesn’t come out to greet us in person, that means we’ll be taken into the lodge to see him. Just follow my lead and you’ll do fine.”

  Faith was trembling. “What if we’re separated?”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “But what if it does? How will I know what to do, how to act around the Indians?”

  “I can’t possibly tell you everything you’d need to know in the few minutes we have left.”

  “Well, try,” she insisted. “You’d be surprised how clear my mind is when I’m scared to death!”

  Connell smiled slightly as he dismounted and circled the big gelding, patting the faithful horse’s rump as he went. Approaching Faith’s horse, he gathered up the reins of both mounts and handed them over to Ab for temporary safekeeping before helping her dismount.

  He paused a moment to make sure she was steady on her feet before letting go, then whispered, “All right. There are a few details which might help. Remember to always turn to the right when entering a lodge.”

  “Why?”

  He gave her a stern look. “Do you want instruction, or not?”

  “I do, I do. Go ahead. What else?”

  “Once you’re inside, pause and wait to be invited farther, then do whatever your host indicates. In my case, Black Kettle will probably ask me to sit on the left, which is an honor because it’s the family side of the teepee. You stay to the right unless you’re told otherwise.”

  She nodded gravely. “I understand. Go on.”

  “If you’re moving around in there for any reason, never walk between your host and the fire, or between the fire and anyone else, for that matter. Go behind them, even if there’s precious little room to pass. They’ll lean forward for you.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  He sighed, yet graced her with an amiable smile. “That’s enough etiquette for now. Get that much right and you’ll impress them plenty, believe me.”

  Directly ahead lay the largest teepee of the scores Faith could see. Its skin flap of a door was propped open by means of two straight sticks, but the outer walls were let all the way down to ground level. A tall, stalwart brave armed with a feather-bedecked lance and a round, leather shield was standing guard.

  Connell received the invitation he had expected and took Faith’s hand to pull her along behind him, leaving Ab outside to mind the horses and fend for himself.

  Daunted, she walked softly, cautiously, recalling her brief instructions on proper comportment and wondering what other details she should know that Connell hadn’t had time or inclination to impart. Why, oh why, hadn’t he used their time traveling between the Indian camps to educate her?

  As her vision adjusted to the dim light she saw a dozen pairs of shadowy, narrowed eyes trained on her. In the gentile society from which she’d come, such undue attention might have made Faith embarrassed at her unkempt appearance but it wouldn’t have frightened her. Here, it unhinged her almost to the point of wanting to yank free of her partner’s hold and try to flee.

  Connell must have sensed her distress because he said something to the gathered savages that made them laugh, then physically plunked her down on the ground near the door before proceeding to greet the chief and
take a seat beside him by direct request.

  Faith tucked her legs beneath her to mimic the posture and demeanor of the other women and tried to keep her ever-widening eyes demurely averted. It was impossible. Finally she gave up fighting her curiosity and settled for feigning submission while she peeked from beneath lowered lashes.

  Black Kettle, Connell and several other men began to smoke a long-shanked pipe that they passed around the semicircle with great ceremony. The bowl nearly touched the ground and the long stem pointed to the sky every time a different smoker took a turn.

  Far younger than she’d expected him to be, the chief was wearing a leather shirt ornamented with beads and small hanks of hair. Swallowing hard, she shuddered to think where the latter decoration might have come from!

  Except for quill and bead adornments, the other braves were bare from the waist up. In spite of their inherent ferocity they were truly magnificent specimens of humanity, Faith thought, blushing, although not one was nearly as appealing looking as Hawk had been when she’d convinced him to strip off his shirt while she cut his hair.

  Immediately penitent, she wondered what her prim, godly mother would say if she happened to be looking down from heaven and was able to read her elder daughter’s decidedly scandalous thoughts!

  The heat inside the tent was stifling compared to the outdoor temperature, not to mention the strong odors of cooking and goodness knows what all else that filled the air. Clouds of worrisome gnats buzzed around Faith’s head. If the others had been paying the slightest attention to the pesky insects, she would have shooed them away. As it was, however, she was loath to move a muscle, so she sat and endured the itching, tickling flies, praying, above all, that the tiny bugs would not scoot up her nose and make her sneeze!

  One of the Indian women across the tent suddenly arose and began to fill a wooden bowl with bits of roast meat from a skewer. The sight made Faith’s mouth water. Food! She was so hungry she knew she could eat almost anything and be truly thankful for it.