Frontier Courtship (10 page)

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.

“B
lack 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.

With a respectful bow, the squaw offered the bowl to the chief, who took four small pieces of meat and raised them in his clasped hands in what Faith took to be a spiritual blessing akin to her family’s habit of saying grace over a meal. The bowl was then passed to Connell and proceeded around the circle of men.

Faith waited. The food bowl never came her way. Instead, everyone was acting as if she were invisible.

Correction, she thought glumly. Not invisible. Of no importance. There was a big difference. Not that she cared one whit about the Indians’ personal opinions of her. She just wished they’d feed her something—anything—before the noisy growling of her stomach disturbed the entire gathering.

Connell noticed his erstwhile niece’s fidgeting and quieted her with a stern look. The woman who had offered the meat had returned to her place across the tent while a younger and much prettier squaw had been summoned and was bowing before the chief. In moments, that girl ducked out the door and disappeared.

Instinct told Faith a momentous event was about to take place. Her pulse quickened. She couldn’t tell much from looking at the faces of the Indians, but Connell’s expression clearly held promise. Every muscle in his body was tense.

Long minutes passed. Faith had been so intent on watching Hawk she flinched noticeably when a skinny, bent, old man limped into the teepee. He was leaning on a crutch that was nearly as gnarled as he was and in his opposite hand he carried a small leather pouch.

The old man stopped. A hush fell over the crowd. Everyone turned to look at the doorway.

There stood the most elegant woman Faith had ever seen. Her dress was of softly pliant deerskin adorned with porcupine quills and beaded fringe. The left shoulder of the short gown was loosely draped while the woman’s right arm was encased in a sleeve that reached her elbow. Below the calf-length skirt, her legs were hidden by leggings and the tops of her moccasins.

The woman glided forward with the utmost grace, making no noise as she approached Connell. Faith could see from his expression that he was deeply moved. Could this regal Indian possibly be his lost love?

In moments Faith had decided that the newcomer was, indeed, Irene Wellman. The woman’s native garb had confused the issue at first, as had the fact that her long, dark hair had been braided and elaborately decorated with beadwork, then wound into coils against the sides of her head, one coil over each ear.

There was little time for Faith to speculate further. The man who had preceded Irene into the teepee handed her the leather bag and stepped aside with a low bow.

Seated where she was, Faith couldn’t see everything that was transpiring, but her observations of the Cheyenne told her plenty. They were clearly in awe. Some even looked frightened, although they hid the emotion well.

Irene opened the beaded pouch and reached inside. Someone coughed nervously. Caught up in the mood of the moment, Faith held her breath like everyone else. She believed in the kind of miracles that were mentioned in the Bible but not in magic. What could possibly be in that little bag that could have bamboozled so many Indians so thoroughly?

Irene raised a small, shiny object aloft in her upturned palms and murmured words that sounded a lot like a civilized, Christian prayer. The only other sound was raspy communal breathing.

Heart pounding, Faith clasped her hands together tightly and kept them in her lap, waiting along with the rest of the company for whatever was about to happen.

Suddenly, the silver object Irene held began to whir and jingle, the cacophony of sound heightened by the close confines of the teepee. Every Cheyenne present gasped, some even ducking and cowering against the tent.

The breath went out of Faith’s bursting lungs in a loud whoosh of relief the moment she recognized what she was hearing. Papa had once owned a pocket watch with an alarm bell just like that! He had often delighted his daughters by setting it to go off at odd times. Until now, it had never occurred to Faith that anyone might be frightened of the pleasantly interesting sound, yet these people obviously were.

Her eyes bright, her soul comforted, Faith chanced a smile at Connell and was rewarded by the most threatening look he had ever bestowed upon her.

Immediately repentant, she lowered her glance and struggled to control her outward glee. How foolish! Of course she must not show any sign of relief or amusement. To do so might destroy the Indians’ confidence in Irene’s supposedly supernatural abilities and undermine her position of importance within the tribe.

Cautiously subdued, Faith peeked up at the priestess of the pocket watch long enough to ascertain that the gathered worshippers had not noticed the untoward reaction from their uninvited guest. Good. At least she hadn’t jeopardized Connell’s plans, whatever they might be.

Sighing, Faith noticed for the first time that she had a splitting headache, which was not at all surprising considering the fact that she hadn’t eaten in longer than she could recall. Not that she would really have welcomed dinner from the communal pot the others had shared. She’d heard stories about some tribes’ fondness for dog meat and she wasn’t all that sure that the Cheyenne didn’t partake of such atrocities. Give her a delicious rabbit stew any day.

The ridiculousness of that thought was not lost on Faith. As a child she’d made pets of all the farm animals, much to her parents’ regret, and had often refused to consume nourishing food simply because she had known the main course too personally.

Customs being different for various societies, she supposed she had no real right to be shocked by anything the Indians did, any more than they would be expected to understand that the mechanical workings of a fancy pocket watch did not qualify it for deification.

Irene was lowering her arms and bowing before Black Kettle. If she had acknowledged recognizing Connell she had done it in a guileful manner hidden from Faith.

Hawk got to his feet, as did the chief. Black Kettle led the way to the door, followed by Connell, then Irene and her stooped companion.

Faith hadn’t been instructed what to do next. She’d not been able to catch Connell’s eye for direction either. If she hadn’t seen one of his fingers crook slightly as he passed, she’d have been at a loss. Hopefully, it had been his signal to follow rather than a nervous twitch!

Her decision to bolt wasn’t a hard one to make. The Cheyenne men had all filed out, but the few women remaining were staring at her as if she were the most repulsive person they had ever seen. The last thing Faith wanted was to remain there with them.

Struggling to her feet, she straightened her clothing and brushed off her skirt as if it had been clean to start with. No one spoke or stepped forward to stop her. She took a tentative step toward the door.
So far, so good.

If she’d been visiting in the home of one of her friends back in Burg Hill she’d have known the proper way to behave. Here, she could only guess. Surely, some pleasant parting word was in order, if only to make herself feel more normal.

With a slight smile and a nod to the other women she said, “So nice of you to invite me. Sorry I can’t stay and chat. Maybe next time.”

Their bewildered looks widened her smile. Obviously, they hadn’t expected her amiable tone of voice or polite leave-taking.