It was several more days before Zach King saw the white woman. He’d spent most of the time in the company of Elk At Dawn and Bluebird, particularly Bluebird. Whenever she was free of chores they went for longs strolls around the village or for short distances out on the prairie. The Blackfeet became so accustomed to the pair of them being together that after a while no one made any wiseacre comments.
Zach did some adjusting of his own. As time passed and he realized beyond a shadow of a doubt the Blackfeet had no intention of killing him, he found himself growing more and more at home. Life among the Blackfeet was little different than life among the Shoshones. Oh, they dressed differently and held different ceremonies, but essentially the two tribes were much alike.
Only two things marred Zach’s happy interlude with Bluebird. The first was her father. Bird Rattler had not pressed him, but Zach knew the chief expected an answer soon about his adoption. While Zach was honored, he had no intention of staying in the village much longer.
Not once had Zach given up on the notion of finding his folks again. By rights he knew he should have snuck off already, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to leave Bluebird, which in itself upset him immensely. His parents should come first, he repeatedly told himself.
Then there was the matter of Honey Hair, the wife of Cream Bear. Upon learning about her, Zach had plied Bluebird and her brother with questions and learned that the white woman had been stolen by the Piegans from somewhere high in the Rockies. He’d kept an eye on Cream Bear’s lodge, hoping for a glimpse of her. And on the third day, fortune smiled on him.
Zach had risen early, as was his custom. Bluebird was already up, helping her mother fix breakfast. Zach smiled at them and went outside. As he stretched and faced the rising sun, he saw a blonde woman in a buckskin dress emerge from Cream Bear’s teepee and head to the stream for water.
Casting a glance around to be sure no one was watching, Zach ran toward the stream from a different angle. He’d been there many times, knew the trail by heart. At a spot where it wound through high brush he crouched and waited for the woman to show. As she came toward him, he examined her face. Her features were pretty although not quite as pretty as Bluebird’s—but lined with sorrow. Her shoulders slumped far too low for someone her age, and her gait was that of someone twice her years. He waited until she was close, then said in English, “Hello, miss. We need to talk.”
Honey Hair nearly tripped over her own feet, she stopped so quickly. Her hand flew to her mouth and she dropped her water bag. “Who?” she exclaimed.
Zach rose from cover, checking the trail to insure no one else was on it. He gestured for the woman to follow him, saying, “I’m Zachary King, ma’am. I’ve been captured same as you. Please come with me. Hurry, before we’re seen together.”
The woman just stood there, shocked witless. “You speak English,” she said, as one dazed. “Yet you don’t look white.” The light of intelligence returned and she inspected him carefully. “No, you’re only part Injun. I can see that now.”
“Please!” Zach insisted. Women used the trail at all hours of the day, most frequently during early morning and late afternoon. At any second they might be discovered.
Honey Hair nodded, then scooped up the water-bag. “I’m sorry. It startled me hearing English again after so long.”
Zach made bold to take her hand and led her into the brush. Hunkering down out of earshot of anyone who might pass by, he looked into her lake-blue eyes. “I’ve already introduced myself proper-like, as pa says to do,” he whispered. “But I don’t know your name.”
“Abigail,” the woman said. “Abigail Griffen.” Unexpectedly, tears gushed into her eyes. Her chin fell to her chest and she cried silently, her whole body shaking.
Zach was speechless. He’d had no idea how she might react, but certainly not like this. Under ordinary circumstances he would have let her cry herself out before prying into why, but time was of the essence. If they delayed too long, someone would come looking for them. And they mustn’t be seen together or they would arouse suspicion.
“Whatever is the matter, ma’am?” Zach asked, touching her shoulder. “Why are you blubbering like a kid?”
Abigail Griffen stopped as abruptly as she had started. Sniffling, she dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “Again, I’m sorry. It’s been ages since I said my own name. And I’ve been holding so much in for so long,” Abigail coughed sheepishly. “What did you say your name is again?”
“Zachary King. You can call me Zach.”
The first trace of a smile touched her mouth. “Fair enough, Zach. And you can call me Abby.” She bent down. “How did you come to be here? Where are you from? Where’s your family?”
“I’d like to tell you everything but we don’t have the time,” Zach emphasized. “What I need to know is whether you want to escape from the Blackfeet as badly as I do?”
“Escape!” Somehow Abby made that one word reflect all the hope and longing a human heart can hold. “Oh, my.”
“I mean to make a break for the Yellowstone the first chance I have. Do you want to come?”
“Oh, my.”
“What’s wrong?” Zach asked, perplexed by her amazement. “I thought you’d want to go. Not that I’m nosy or anything, but I happened to hear you yelling at your husband the other night and it was plain you’re not very fond of Indian life.” He waited for her answer, which came in a most bewildering form.
Abigail suddenly embraced him, hugging him tight to her bosom and swinging him from side to side. “Oh, you sweet, wonderful boy, you! You have no idea! No idea!”
“Is that a yes or a no?” Zach tried to say, but his face was pressed so tightly against her chest his question came out all muffled. He could barely breathe. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he pushed back and sucked in air. “Please, ma’am. This is no time to be acting silly. Escaping is a serious matter.”
“So it is,” Abby agreed, sparkling with new-found vigor. “And aren’t you the mature one for your tender years.” She started to giggle, then froze on hearing low voices from the vicinity of the trail. Reminded of their peril, she paled and took his hand. “Goodness, I’m acting the fool! Very well. Yes, I want to escape. I’d about given up hope of ever doing so.” She glanced at the plain. “Before I came to live with the Blackfeet, I was with the Piegans.’’
“I know.”
“You do? Well, they lived up north a far piece. Or was it northwest? Either way, it was too far for me to try to make it to civilization on my own. My sense of direction is pitiful. Doubt I’d last two days out there by myself.”
“Don’t you worry none. Thanks to my folks, I can get around right fine. All we have to do is work out the best time to leave. And that won’t be easy.”
“No, it won’t,” Abby whispered. “The brave I’m living with won’t let me out of his sight for more than fifteen minutes unless he’s off hunting or with a war party, and then he sends his mother over to stay with me.”
“We’ll find a way,” Zach said confidently. He thought he heard a shout in the village. “This is taking too long. We need to meet again to talk some more.”
“Where and when?”
“Do you come for water every afternoon?”
“Have to. Cream Bear throws a tantrum if he doesn’t have fresh water with his supper.”
“I’ll try to be here then. If I’m not, look for me again tomorrow morning.”
“I will,” Abby pledged. Impulsively, she took his hand in hers and squeezed. “And thank you, young man. You’re a godsend in disguise. My sanity was on the verge of slipping, but now, thanks to you, I have real hope for the first time in years.”
Zach was flabbergasted when she kissed him on the forehead. Water-bag over her arm, she hurried toward the trail. He went the opposite way and circled around so that he approached the village from the south.
Bluebird was outside the lodge. On seeing him she ran over. “Where have you been? We are ready to eat but my father has held off so you can join us.”
“I went for a walk,” Zach signed, and let it go at that. Inside the lodge the rest of the family waited. He took his seat, two places to the right of Bird Rattler, then signed, “Please forgive me. My mind wandered.”
“Do not let it happen again, Stalking Coyote,” the chief instructed, and smiled. “I am in a foul mood all day when I do not have my morning meal on time.”
Thankfully, Indian meals were quite unlike their counterparts among civilized society. Had Zach been with a white family, they might have pestered him about where he had been. Indians, however, always ate in silence and reserved conversation for the end of the meal. Although to say the meal passed in silence is not quite right. Indians ate most food with their hands, gulping portions greedily and noisily, sucking soft edibles through their teeth, and drinking with loud hissing, slurping noises.
Zach had divided loyalties in that regard. His mother taught him to eat as her people the Shoshones did, and when visiting their tribe he ate as noisily as everyone else, which his father did not care for. That was because his father wanted him to always eat as quietly as a mouse, with his mouth shut, and to never speak with food in his mouth. So when at their cabin he did as his father requested, which bothered his mother. Sometimes, he’d decided long ago, there was no pleasing anyone.
Now, on finishing off a tasty cake, Zach smacked his lips to show his approval and leaned back on his hands, done. The chief regarded him intently.
“We must talk, Stalking Coyote.”
Since no reply was required, Zach merely straightened. The moment he had dreaded was upon him.
“Since we first found you by the river, I have looked after you,” signed Bird Rattler. “You impressed me with your courage, with your daring. My heart grew warm towards you. And so I offered to adopt you into my family, to make you as one of us.”
“For which I was grateful,” Zach signed when the Blackfoot paused.
“But not grateful enough,” Bird Rattler said. “Most boys would have agreed right away. You have had more than enough sleeps to reach a decision, yet my eyes have not seen your hands sign the words I hoped to see. Why is that?”
Zach cleared his throat out of habit when all he had to do was raise his arms. He signed slowly, hoping to put off committing himself yet again. “A son cannot give up one father and take another lightly. Since I do not know if my natural father lives or has been rubbed out, I cannot be untrue to him and become your son. Once I know, then I can. And let me add that White Grass was right when he told me there can be no higher honor than to be accepted as the son of Bird Rattler. You are a man my own father would be happy to call friend.”
Bird Rattler had a reply ready. “All you have said is true. Your attitude is commendable in one so young. So it is with much sorrow that I must tell you your father is either no longer in this country or he is dead. Unknown to you, I sent warriors to search all the way to the river. They rode far and wide and found no trace of any whites except three trappers in canoes.”
Zach perked up. He wondered if maybe his parents had lost their horses and made canoes to transport them up the Yellowstone. “Did they get a good look at these trappers?”
“Yes. All were men. Two were young whites, one with a brown beard, the other with no hair on his face. The third was a much older man with a beard as white as snow. He appeared to be very sick.”
Zach’s hopes were dashed. His father had a black beard, not brown. Shakespeare did have a white beard but he would hardly go off with other trappers and leave his friends to fend for themselves.
“I wanted to find your father, Stalking Coyote. Alive or his body, it did not matter. Since there was no trace of him, we must conclude he is gone. You must resign yourself to the fact that you will not see him ever again.”
Before Zach could stop himself, he signed emphatically, “Never! The son of Grizzly Killer does not give up so easily!”
“I would expect no less from my own son,” Bird Rattler responded. “So this is what I will do. You have seven more sleeps in which to accept your loss and give me an answer. If you do not, then I will cast you from my lodge for someone else to adopt. I have spoken.” Pushing upright, Bird Rattler left.
Zach stayed only another minute. The others were watching him so fixedly he was embarrassed by their scrutiny and sought the open spaces outdoors. He had not gone far when a warm hand brushed his wrist.
“Be honest with me,” Bluebird signed. “Do you like us?”
“With all my heart,” Zach answered, and meant it.
“My mother is very upset you will not accept,” Bluebird signed in such a way that Zach suspected she actually meant herself and not her mother. “She admires your devotion to your family but thinks you go too far.”
Stopping, Zach swung around so suddenly Bluebird nearly walked into him. They were nose to nose, tiny red dots forming on her cheeks. “I have made myself as clear as I can,” Zach signed. “If I was free to choose another family, I would choose yours.”
“Then we would be brother and sister.”
Forever after Zach would be unable to explain the urge that prompted him to sign, “I would rather be husband and wife some day.”
Bluebird recoiled, gasped, and bolted like a frightened Colt, fleeing toward the prairie. Those she flashed past gave her puzzled looks.
Zach hastened off before anyone noticed him and put two and two together. Bird Rattler would be most displeased to hear he had upset her. Once he had lost himself among the lodges, he killed time by strolling aimlessly, intending to keep to himself until it was time to meet with Abby Griffen. He avoided Elk At Dawn and other boys, and once had to scoot behind a lodge when Bird Rattler and Cream Bear went by.
Less than an hour remained when Zach walked around the teepee of a noted warrior admiring the realistic buffalo painted on the hides and blundered into White Grass.
“Hello, Hackeryking. How you be?”
The last person Zach wanted to meet was the keeper of the sacred Beaver Bundle. Since arriving he had learned the position was one of the most revered in the tribe, higher even than war chief or medicine man. Every Blackfoot had a stake in the bundle because the welfare of the tribe was believed to be linked to its proper upkeep. There were many rules that had to be followed by its owner and all who came in his presence. Anyone who violated them risked bringing calamity down on everyone.
Keepers of the bundle had to be wise, kind, and caring. White Grass fit the bill, but he had one character flaw Zach found irritating: he loved to talk endlessly. Several times he had cornered Zach and gone on for hours. Zach suspected the venerable warrior was delighted to be able to practice his English, and it was just Zach’s misfortune to be the one person other than Abby who spoke it. She wouldn’t give White Grass the time of day.
“I am fine,” Zach answered politely, adding, “but very busy. There is somewhere I must be in a short while.”
White Grass placed a weathered hand on Zach’s shoulder. “When I age you, same I do. Always be go here, go there.” He chuckled at the remembrance. “Boys all same. White, Indian, it same, same, yes?”
“Yes,” Zach agreed. Although, now that he thought about it, he’d had very few experiences with white boys his age. Being raised in the remote Rockies had its drawbacks.
“You give great chief answer yet?”
Zach was so accustomed to White Grass mangling the language that it always surprised him when a sentence was phrased correctly. “Not yet,” he said. “I have seven sleeps in which to make up my mind.”
“You do right thing.” White Grass patted him on the shoulder. “Bird Rattler take care good of you. You grow be mighty warrior.”
“He would do a fine job,” Zach said while trying to come up with a plausible reason to excuse himself. He gazed toward Cream Bear’s lodge and was horrified to see Abby leaving for the stream early. She never looked his way and was soon lost among the lodges.
“Something wrong, Hackeryking?” White Grass inquired.
“No. I just have to go. I promised to help Bird Rattler make arrows this afternoon. Will you excuse me?” Zach hated to lie but felt he had no choice.
The keeper Of the Beaver Bundle tilted his head and stared so long and hard at Zach that Zach became uncomfortable. “All right, Hackeryking,” he said at length. “Go do what have to.”
Zach bounded off toward the stream, then caught his mistake and changed direction, making for Bird Rattler’s lodge. A casual glance back showed White Grass watching him, so he smiled and waved. Once out of sight he changed course once more and by a circuitous route was presently in the thick brush bordering the trail.
Abigail Griffen awaited him, kneeling with the water-bag in her lap. Her expression was unaccountably downcast. There were red marks under her eyes, as if she had been crying. And her hands twined and untwined restlessly. She glanced up, smiled wanly. “I came early in the hope you would too so we’d have more time to talk.”
“I’m glad you did,” Zach said, squatting. “Lucky I saw you.”
Abby focused on her hands. “This is going to be very hard for me to do.”
“Escaping? Don’t worry. I’ll have it all worked out ahead of time. If we plan it right, we’ll be long gone before the Blackfeet miss us.”
“No, no. Not that.” A long sigh welled up from deep within her. “I’ve changed my mind about going.”
Zach blinked. “You’ve what, ma’am?”
“At first I was giddy at the notion of seeing my own kind again,” Abby said. “I don’t think I touched the ground once all the way back to the lodge.” She stopped, her voice choking off, and it was several minutes before she found it. ‘‘But then I had time to do some thinking and I realized I can’t go back with you, no matter how much I want to.”
Many a time Zach had been boggled by adult logic, but this instance left him thoroughly confounded. “I don’t understand,” he confessed.
“All you need to know is that I appreciate your offer very much,” Abby said, touching his cheek. “It brought me to my senses in one respect. There’s no going back for me, Zach. Not now, not ever. I was stupid to hope otherwise.” She put the hand over her own heart. “There’s only one thing left for me to do, I’m afraid. I just pray I have the courage.”
Zach didn’t like the sound of that. “Maybe if you’d explain, I can help.”
Abby sorrowfully shook her head. “You’re so sweet, but there’s nothing you can do. Trust me. This is a matter far beyond your tender years. You see,” she paused, choking again, moisture rimming her eyes, “I was in love once with the finest man ever trod this earth. Lane Griffen was his name, and there wasn’t a prouder woman anywhere the day I said, ‘I do!’ to him.”
“Don’t you still love him?” Zach asked when she covered her eyes with a palm and her shoulders gently shook.
“Oh God, yes!” Abby’s voice sounded as if it came from the depths of a deep well. “But let me finish. I insisted on going trapping with him so he took me into the mountains against his better judgment. That’s when the Piegans found me.”
“So? If he loves you as much as you love him, he won’t hold it against you.”
“Not that, no. But something else he will.” Abby visibly wrestled with her emotions. She stiffened her spine while drying her eyes. “There are some things a person can never forget nor forgive. Once you’re much older, you’ll understand.”
“It’s true I’m green in years, ma’am. But I’m not dumb. I learn as I go along.” Zach paused. “I’ve seen how my ma and pa act. I’ve seen how much they love one another. I know there isn’t anything in the world my pa wouldn’t do for ma. He’d die for her, if need be. And no matter what she did, he’d forgive her.”
“What’s your point?”
“I should think it’d be as plain as the nose on your face,” Zach said. “When a man loves a woman that much, he’ll stand by her through anything. Your Lane will welcome you back with open arms.”
“Never,” Abby said wistfully, and suddenly she clutched at her throat and began to stand. “I have to go now.”
“Wait!” Zach said, gripping her wrist. “Just hear me out. Please!”
“What?” Abby responded, halfheartedly tugging to free herself. “There’s nothing more to say.”
“There you’re wrong.” Zach thought frantically, certain she was going to do something awful if he didn’t persuade her to come with him. “Listen. In six days we have to leave. I won’t bother explaining why now.” He let go and she didn’t run off. “I think you’re making the biggest mistake of your life if you don’t go. Bigger even than going to the mountains when Lane didn’t want you to. And you owe it to him, I figure, to decide for himself whether he’ll forgive you or not. Saying he won’t is like saying he never really loved you in the first place.”
Abby made no reply for quite some time. She had gone as taunt as wire, the shifting of her face the only hint of the intense war raging within her. At last she came to life and whirled. “I’ll think over what you’ve said.” She took several steps, then stopped. “And Zach?”
“Ma’am?”
“You’re going to make some lucky girl a fine husband one day.”
Zach watched her dash through the brush and reflected that, young or old, it didn’t matter. Females were downright strange.