Chapter Twelve

Alas! Alas! why could not this simple life have continued?

—James Willard Schultz, My Life as an Indian

 

A council was called. The spirits had been appeased, the four directions extolled. Inside the tepee, a pipe had been passed around the council circle and back again, but, as was custom, not past the tepee’s entryway. It was an old custom, one that no one saw fit to alter simply because the world around them had changed.

An old chief rose. “Warriors, chiefs, wise men,” he began, “one of us has come here to say a few words. He has been with the whites. And he has much to tell us. We should all listen to what he has to say.”

Several of the assembled chiefs voiced encouragement, and amid their praise, Soaring Eagle rose to his feet.

After a brief pause, he began, “As many of you already know, this council has been held that I might speak with you.”

The elders nodded, their eyes politely turned down.

“I have come to talk to you tonight to tell you that I have spoken with the white woman,” he said, “the one whom you all met last night, the one that the Indian agent has asked us to accommodate.”

Again more nods.

“There have been doubts about how we should deal with her. During my talk with her, I learned why she is here and what she means to do. In her wagon, she waits for me at the outskirts of our village. I have discovered that she is here with her father to record a history of our people—in words and in photographs. She would tell the white people, with these pictures and with their written words, the story of our people.

“I have brought her to our village to witness the Medicine Pipe ceremony in order that you meet her and talk to her and decide for yourself the truth of her words—of my words. Though she is white, I believe her heart is good and that it is in the right place.

“She has also offered to help us discover what we can about the thievery of our land, in exchange for granting her this privilege. I believe her, and I would ask you to open your eyes to her that you might see her as I have.”

He sat down. Though it was customary that he add that he hoped the chiefs would take her into their hearts as he had, Soaring Eagle had deliberately omitted this particular announcement, since he could not truthfully say that he wished any other to know her heart as intimately as he. Not that he might ever realize her in this way again.

She had said no, and if he were to do what pride was urging him to do, he would take her advice, walk away and be done with her.

He grimaced at the thought. It wasn’t right. In his heart, he felt it wasn’t right. They belonged together.

However, were he to think it through logically, as she had asked him to do, he could understand her reasoning; in fact, he might even agree with her. Perhaps, in keeping her wits about her, she spoke with a wisdom he had yet to grasp. Maybe…

No, that couldn’t be right. When he had kissed her, with her body pressed up closely to his, he had looked into her heart, had seen her for exactly who she was. And what he had beheld there was exquisite. Aa, he had loved her at once.

And she? He had perceived a hunger in her that was more than a match for his own. She must love him—or at least feel something…

But if these things were right, then what problem were they really facing? Yes, their cultures were diverse, but if that were the only force at work here, why wouldn’t obvious solutions cure it?

Could it be that there was something else? Something else she wasn’t admitting? And if that was true, was it simply racial prejudice?

Possibly, although that didn’t seem valid either. She couldn’t easily hold a prejudice toward his people and act as she had this afternoon.

Perhaps she was being too sensible. Possibly, too, he had moved too fast, as she had said. Should he try again?

Only to be turned down once more?

Pride and an overwhelming sense of self-preservation urged Soaring Eagle to forget her. It hadn’t been easy to speak of his heart’s desire. It had taken courage and a certain amount of gall.

Aa, yes. What was done was done. She had declined him; he should accept her answer. What he needed now was a little time to sort through his thoughts, some space away from her. Maybe then he could think clearly.

A chief arose, requiring Soaring Eagle’s complete attention. The man said, “What is Soaring Eagle, son of Comes Running Bird, asking of this council?”

Soaring Eagle came up easily to his feet and said, “I would ask the wise men of this council that you talk with her, allow her to photograph this ceremony, those parts of it that are not sacred. In this way, you may come to know her and see for yourself her true nature, for I do not believe she is here to take away our spirit.”

Another chief held up a hand, coming himself to his feet. He said, “And if she is? If she turns out to be as treacherous as the white ranchers who surround us?”

“Then we need not invite her to any other function,” said Soaring Eagle. “Neither she nor her father can make their book or their history about us if we do not agree to talk to them. I have seen her heart, and I do not think she speaks with a forked tongue.”

The old chief nodded and Soaring Eagle returned to his seat.

“Is there anyone else who would like to say something on this matter?”

Kicking Stone arose.

“Yes, Kicking Stone. Speak.”

“For many years we have trusted the whites to their words. For as many years we have thought them to be as truthful as we ourselves are. Yet in all these years, we have not seen a promise that has not been broken by these people. It seems to me that the whites make promises only to suit themselves, and when they have what they want, they quickly forget. I say we should remember this and beware of the white woman and send her away from us.”

Soaring Eagle rose up onto his feet, asking for recognition that he might speak. It was given.

“Kicking Stone is a very wise man, and I agree with him. But only today, the white woman defended me against some white bullies who might have killed me…and her. She spoke harshly to them and swore that she would have justice. I believe her.”

“Thank you, Soaring Eagle,” said the old chief. “Is there another who wishes to say a few words about this?”

When no one indicated that he might, the chief continued. “Then we will have a vote.”

“Wait,” said Comes Running Bird. “I trust my son’s judgment, but perhaps not his heart.”

Startled by these words, Soaring Eagle reined in his surprise and stared out in front of him. How could his father know what was in his heart? Not by word or by gesture had Soaring Eagle given any indication as to his feelings. Had his father mastered the art of reading his son’s mind?

But Comes Running Bird was continuing to speak, and he said, “Perhaps we might allow her some rights, but not all. Maybe we could permit her to witness the ceremony, to take pictures, but to select only those that Soaring Eagle approves.”

That only he would approve?

Soaring Eagle clamped down on the urge to spring to his feet in protest. Hadn’t he barely determined that for his own good, he should put some distance between them?

Yet if he had to approve all that she did, he would have to be with her, have to be close to her.

It was too soon. Without sorting through his own mind on the matter first, it would be nothing short of torture.

Soaring Eagle raised his hand that he might speak.

“Aa, Soaring Eagle wishes to say something else to the council?”

He did, and he stood. “In my defense, I think I should let this council know that I do not know the Medicine Pipe ceremony well enough to decide what pictures she should or should not take. I might allow her too much freedom, and we would come to regret it. Though my father has kept the Medicine Pipe bundle these past few years, I do not feel I should rightfully take on this responsibility. Perhaps there is someone else? My sister might be happy to accompany her.”

His words were met with absolute quiet.

He sat down, and the spell was broken. Almost at once there were murmurs around the circle.

The old chief nodded. “Thank you Comes Running Bird, Soaring Eagle. You have heard what each one of these fine men has to say. Perhaps we should remember that it is Comes Running Bird who is this night seeking another to carry on the tradition of the Medicine Pipe. We will vote now.”

“I would say one more thing.” It was Comes Running Bird speaking.

“Aa,” said the old chief. “Please speak.”

“My son, Soaring Eagle, talks well and with good intent. However, I fear he also speaks as a man who might fear the passion of his heart.”

Soaring Eagle didn’t react outwardly, though it took every bit of strength he possessed to simply stare at the ground.

“For as you all know,” Comes Running Bird continued, “Soaring Eagle’s sister would know as much about the ceremony as her brother.”

The old chief nodded. “This council thanks you, Comes Running Bird. And now I think we will vote.”

In the end, it was decided that Comes Running Bird’s suggestion would be followed. And Soaring Eagle, more than a little puzzled and anxious about what the night ahead might yet present, arose.

Filing out, he kept his place in the circle, his steps keeping pace with those of the old, wise men who had been assembled around the council fire. Bending at the entrance, he stepped through the opening flap, trying to decide in his own mind the best way to approach the coming evening.

And though he knew he would never go against the council’s decision, he did wonder at their wisdom.

Still, even that thought dimmed in comparison to the real problem at hand. How was he to be with her and keep his hands off her?

 

 

As promised, Kali waited well to the outside of the Blackfeet encampment. She sat in the wagon’s seat, nervously twiddling her fingers. Children had crowded around the wagon; some had popped into the back of it, while several others had brought treats to feed to the horses. All the youngsters stared at her as though she might be some stage performer.

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 need 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.”