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.”

“No, I am not talking about that. What I meant is that I was wrong about the time. You see, I thought that I had begun to love you then,” he said. “But the truth is, I have loved you for a long time.”

“Oh? How is that possible? You didn’t know me until only a few weeks ago.”

“I know. But it is enough.”

Kali flinched. His voice was much too close. Taking another step forward, she said, “Well, if that’s true, and you do feel some attachment to me, you have an odd way of showing it.”

“Do I?” He touched her arm.

She jerked her arm back, out of his reach.

He said, “And yet here I am. When things have gone wrong between us, I am still here. But you, you ran away.”

“Did I?”

“Didn’t you?” He lifted the length of her hair away from her neck, his breath fanning her, touching her as though it were a caress.

She said, a little breathless, “If—if I were running away, I would be out of the country by now.”

“Would you? I don’t think so.”

She turned around, effectively putting herself out of his reach. Frowning, she said, “What do you mean?”

“You gave me a promise, and you are not the sort of person to break your word.”

“How would you know that?”

He grinned. Even in the darkness Kali was aware of it. It was as though his mood suddenly lightened. After a moment, he said, “You may not be perfect, but one thing I know about you is that you are trustworthy.”

“Humph. I don’t see how you would know that.”

“When you left,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken, “you were very upset with me. I knew it but couldn’t understand it. Nevertheless, you remained calm despite your distress.”

“So…?”

“A lesser soul would have condemned me or someone else outright. But you were the image of perfect manners, even remembering to give gifts to my father. And now, here you are, still here. You did not run very far. And do you know why?”

“Because I’m a fool?”

“Saa. Because you care. Because you have pride in yourself and would sooner die than break a pledge. I would be willing to bet that you have been doing a great deal of reading of treaties lately.”

She stepped back, away from him. “Soaring Eagle,” she said, “why are you here?”

“To let you know that I won’t sign any papers. To tell you that you are still my wife. There was much more than a ceremony that happened between you and me, and there is no chance of a simple annulment.”

“I think that there is.”

“And,” he continued, once again as though she hadn’t spoken, “to tell you that I still love you very much, you and only you. I would like you to come home with me.”

Home? A tremor seized hold of her, but Kali shook it off and stole yet another step away from him, this time coming up against the wall. Her arms came down, palms flat against the solid surface. She said, “I don’t believe you. Now, please, if you will kindly excuse me, you have caught me at a bad time. I have a great deal of work to do.” She nodded toward the door, forgetting for the moment that it was too dark for him to see.

“Kali,” he breathed, her name on his lips more of an embrace than sound. “Sweet, sweet Kali, what have I done to deserve your contempt?”

“Nothing.” She said the word as sarcastically as possible.

“And now I think you lie.”

She shrugged. “And what if I do? I suppose you never lie, am I right?”

He paused. “I am like any other man. Most human beings tell fibs at one time or another. Would you have a husband tell his pregnant wife that she is fat? Or a crippled child that he will never walk?”

“Those are not the sort of life-and-death lies that I am speaking of.”

“I see,” he said. “And so what you are telling me is that you think I have lied to you about something important?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do.”

“And what is that?”

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“No,” he said, “you don’t. But if you did, I might grant you a wish and go away from here.”

She thrust out her chin.

“And if I tell you about the lie, you promise to leave?”

He didn’t answer. “What is it, Kali?”

She let out her breath in a sigh.

“Kali?”

“Well, all right. If you must know, I don’t think you love me. I think it’s only something you said to me to get your way. I also believe that you were and are using me, though for what possible purpose escapes me. Truth is, I’m thinking that you must be some kind of Casanova.”

“Casanova? What is this Casanova?”

“He was a man who took many lovers.”

A long pause, a very long pause, followed.

“Other lovers?” Again he hesitated, and the silence that stretched between them seemed threatening. At last, he asked, “Why would I want another lover when I have held the woman of my dreams in my arms?”

Dear Lord above. The man had a golden tongue. If Kali hadn’t seen what she had, if she didn’t know what she did, she might be inclined to believe him.

But she had seen. She did know.

And so she sneered at him. “I don’t know why you would want another lover. But I’ll tell you what, Soaring Eagle. If you figure that out, I would appreciate your telling me, because I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

He cleared his throat. “Has someone said something bad to you about me?”

“There is no need. I have eyes of my own by which to see.”

Again there was no answer from him, and another silence fell between them.

In truth, Kali couldn’t stand the strain of it, and she found herself asking, “How did you find me?”

“Rather easily.” His voice came from across the room. Odd that she hadn’t heard him move there. “Once I determined that you weren’t returning to see me, I figured that you would put as much distance between us as you could. But I did not believe you would leave. Tell me, Kali. What have you seen that makes you think this? Was it Gilda? I know that we spoke together in the circle, when perhaps we shouldn’t have done so. Are you jealous of her?”

“I am not jealous.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No. I’m being very reasonable under the circumstances…”

“Circumstances…?”

She didn’t say a word.

And he went on to say, “In case you have wondered, I am not having an affair with your former guide. I never have. And since I met you, there has been no other female in my life, outside of my mother, my grandmothers and my sister.”

Liar, she thought to herself. I know differently.

“It is true that I met with Gilda. But I was there only to ask her questions. Nothing else happened between us.”

But Kali had been there, at least on the outskirts; Kali had seen them together. She knew.

She raised her chin. “Why do you think I would care if there are other women in your life or not?”

“Because,” he said, “we once made love together. Because you once admitted that you loved me. And because I love you.”

“Yes, well, things change sometimes. I’ve changed my mind about you.”

“Have you?”

She nodded, again forgetting that he couldn’t see. She said, “Yes, yes, I have.”

“I don’t think that you have,” he replied, from not more than a foot away.

The darkness, which at first had been her friend, now betrayed her. For suddenly he was beside her, touching her, taking her in his arms, and before she knew what he meant to do, he kissed her.

And despite herself, Kali found herself kissing him back, as though she’d hungered for nothing more than this all week long. Darn it. Why did even her body betray her?

He said, “I think, my wife, that you are simply afraid. Afraid that I have deceived you. But I have not.”

She scooted out of his arms. “Soaring Eagle, perhaps I should be forthright with you. Maybe then you will understand why this talk is meaningless.”

“I am listening.”

“I saw you with someone.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” She nodded briefly. “So you see, it’s useless for us to continue to talk about it.”

He didn’t say a word. And Kali wondered what he might be thinking, what he might be doing, for the darkness hid his movements, even his thoughts, from her. He said, “Tell me when this was.”

“As I was leaving camp last week; that night with my father.”

“Ah, good. Then you must have seen Gilda and myself.”

“Yes.”

“And you must have seen that my grandmother was there also, acting as chaperone?”

His grandmother? A likely story. She said, “I saw no one else there at all.”

“And yet it is the truth.”

“I saw no one else.”

“And you looked closely?”

No, she hadn’t, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She remained silent.

After a while, he asked, “Do you believe me?”

“No. I don’t believe you. But that’s not the point. Soaring Eagle, I saw you wrapped in an embrace with another.”

“But that was not Gilda, it was my—”

“Don’t you understand? I saw you.”

“But—”

“Please, Soaring Eagle. Just go away.”

“I see. So what you are telling me is that there is nothing I can do right here, right now, to convince you of my sincerity? My innocence?”

“There is nothing.”

“Fine. Then you are coming with me.” He grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her toward the darkroom door.

She let out a slight cry. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She kicked him.

But whether or not she made her target didn’t seem to be the point, nor did it do her any good. He picked her up as easily as if she were no more than a child, and headed toward the door. He said, “You are a little too stubborn for your own good, do you know that?”

“I am not.”

“I don’t mean that badly, but you are still going to come with me. If you don’t believe me, and there’s nothing I can do to convince you here, now, then we’re going to go talk to my grandmother and to Gilda, if I can find her. Gilda seems to have disappeared again. But find her I will if that’s what I have to do to settle this between us. And you are coming with me.”

“No, I won’t go.”

“You have no choice.”

“I’ll cry when we get to the street. Someone will see you and take me away from you.”

“Then that’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

She shoved at him with all her might, finally saying, “But it’s a two-day journey to your home.” More struggling followed, but even she knew it was pointless. Hadn’t he already proved to her once before that physically, his was the superior strength?

He said, “We can make it in a day.”

“Soaring Eagle, put me down.”

“No.”

He kicked the door to her darkroom open and stepped out; Kali quickly reached around and shut it tightly.

“I can’t go with you now,” she said. “I am in the middle of developing a picture, and I must remain here or it will be ruined.”

“I don’t care. What is happening between us is more important than a picture.”

“I might disagree, but I won’t,” she said, sighing. “Very well. You win. If you will put me down, I’ll promise you that I will come to your village, or at least I’ll start out for there as soon as my work is done here, in about a week. It’ll take me a few days to get there, so you could expect me in from seven to ten days.”

He stopped and looked at her, and Kali’s heart trembled as she gazed up at his handsome face. In the darkroom, she’d had only his voice to charm her. Now she had the full man.

He said, “You will give me your word on this?”

“I will. I do.”

He frowned at her. “Once again,” he said, “promise me.”

“I promise I will come to your village in about seven to ten days.”

It was as though the words were magic. He set her on her feet but kept hold of her upper body, pulling her into his embrace. And then he hugged her, his body fully imprinted on hers.

Kali’s legs went weak, but she managed to push away from him—at least an inch or two. “Now, please, Soaring Eagle, I’m working. Please go.”

“Aa, I will. For a kiss,” he said, his arms still around her.

“A what?”

“I will leave if you kiss me.”

“Why would I want to kiss you? I’m upset with you.”

He leered down at her, his hands coming up to her ribs. “So that you can get rid of me and get back to your work.”

She gasped. He had tickled her.

“Soaring Eagle, stop that.”

More tickles followed, accompanied by Kali’s involuntary shrieks and giggles. “Please stop it.”

“I will for a kiss. One simple kiss. An innocent request.”

“Fine.” She reached up to give him a peck on the cheek.

“That’s hardly what I had in mind.” He found a sensitive spot under her arms, beneath her ribs and at the junction of her waist.

Her screeches filled the air. At last she said, “Okay, all right, fine.” She placed her lips on his.

But his mouth opened to her, his arms coming around her. As he bent her backward, his tongue swept into her mouth, claiming the moist recess there as easily as if he were a savage conqueror.

And Kali, “poor soul,” had no choice but to kiss him back. Closing her eyes, she lost herself to him—if only for a moment.

His free hand came up to push back her hair, to make a foray of her cheek and neck, and to sweep downward toward her breast. Kali moaned, trying to remember all the reasons why she didn’t want him, didn’t need to be married to him, didn’t yearn for his embrace.

Alas, she came up with nothing.

And before she knew what he was about, his hands were at her breasts, massaging her through the material of her dress.

“Kali”—he moaned her name more than spoke it—“Kali, I need you.”

He did?

“I have not been the same since you left. I have done nothing but yearn for you. Tell me what I need to hear…”

“Tell you? What? What is it that you must hear?” she asked, whispering and leaning heavily against him.

“Tell me that you missed me too.”

He was so near, so handsome, so virile, and her response was unthinking as she said, “I have missed you, in my own—”

He groaned, while his hands came down to lift her skirts. “Kali, Kali, I would have you.”

She swallowed what seemed to be a knot caught in her throat, then said, “Here? Now?”

Gazing down into her eyes, he nodded. “Aa, here, now.”

“But—”

He cut her off with a kiss, and Kali caught her breath. “I have thought of nothing but this for many days and terrible nights. Nights without you.” He picked her up and paced to a corner of the basement, where he leaned her against the wall.

“Kali, my sweet, sweet Kali.” Already his hands were lifting her dress, pulling at her drawers, touching her, loving her.

“But what if my father should—”

“Sh-h-h. He is gone. I made certain of it before I came here.” His fingers were touching her there, at the junction of her legs. He whispered, “You are ready for me.”

I know.

And then he was there, his body joined with hers, doing things to her that she was afraid she had only dreamed.

She sighed. In truth, his insistence came as a relief. Oh, she might try to deny it, but she wanted this, needed this, too. And if she were to be honest with herself, she would have admitted that she’d dreamed of this very moment.

What he was doing was scandalous to be sure, and yet it was oh, so sweet. She moved her hips against him, if only to gain a little more pleasure, but she could barely budge.

He murmured, “Put your weight on me and not the wall. I can hold you.”

She did as he suggested, and was filled with instant gratification. She shut her eyes and forgot to think. Just feel, just experience.

Darn.

Tears gathered in her eyes. There was no escaping the truth. She loved this man. And despite her own misgivings, she wanted to believe him, to believe in his fidelity. But alas, she knew that this last could not be. She was who she was; was convinced that one’s secret desires could too easily turn to bitter realities.

However, convincing her heart of his wandering nature was another matter. Blast her very soul. She was afraid that her very spirit was his, now and forever.

And she, returning his passion, surrendered lock, stock and barrel. At that instant, he smiled at her as though he knew her thoughts. And in his gaze was so much affection, Kali continued over the brink of passion. What glory. What sensation. She strained, she pulled, and she lost herself to him, to the moment, to the exquisite pleasure and to love.

Strange; from a point somewhere above them, she became aware that he was not far behind her in meeting his own release. One thrust, another; moaning, almost growling, he at last gave to her all that was in him to give. And Kali welcomed him every bit.

This was wonderful, beautiful. He was beautiful. This was, however, also strange. Strange because there, for a moment, they were one. And in that time, she became aware of some dim knowledge. A conviction that he was innocent.

She didn’t know how she knew; it didn’t matter. Somehow, in some way, he was faultless against her accusations. Or at least, she corrected herself, he believed himself to be guiltless.

His body fell in against hers, and he said, “I love you, Kali Wallace. With everything that is in me, I love you.”

“I know,” was all she said in response. “I know.”

She wound her arms around him, wanting their time together to go on and on. Unfortunately, reality intruded. And at length, he set her back on her feet, then straightened away, helping to put her dress in order.

He said, “I must go.” Before he left, he brushed his fingers over her lips, gently, softly. “Thank you for that, my wife. Soka’pii.” His gaze softened while his fingers branched out to skim down her hair to a ripe, waiting breast. “And now I hope that you know that there can be no annulment between us. You, sweet Kali, are well and truly married. I wouldn’t want you to forget.”

“No,” she said, somewhat in a daze, unsure if she meant no, she needed no reminder; no, she wasn’t married; or no, she wouldn’t forget.

“You have seven to ten days. If you’re not in my village by then, I’m coming to get you, even if I have to cross a country to do it. Understand?”

Kali nodded.

“Don’t overlook that I’m trusting you to your word.”

“I won’t.”

He smiled at her, and with nothing more to be said or done for the moment, he strode to the door. Before he went through and vanished, he turned to her and said, “Think what you will, believe what you will, but I did not hold Gilda in my arms that night.” And opening the door, he was gone.

Kali stared at that door momentarily. And though she said the words to nothing but empty space, she asked, “Then who was it?”