Crow Mountain (19 page)

‘You OK?'

‘Yes. Thank you.'

You squeezed me a little. ‘Yes but what?'

‘But you all talk a lot.'

‘We're family is all. And we ain't seen each other in a while. Don't you talk to your family?'

‘Mama says frivolous talk is unattractive. And I speak several languages, but now I don't speak the right one. I don't like not understanding things.'

‘Plenty in the world I don't understand. Sometimes you just gotta accept things as they are. Not let it make you unhappy.' You tucked the blanket around me more tightly and settled down to sleep.

The fire sparked, sending tiny fireflies of orange up into the night. On the edge of it I could see Rose. She looked asleep already, hair over her face and one hand flung on to the grass. On the other side, opposite us, Lucky and Clear Water were bundled in their blankets. From where I lay, I could see them clearly. They were talking in whispers. Then they kissed, mouths open. I saw Lucky's hand slip inside her dress, tugging it open. I gasped and recoiled.

‘Em?' Your voice was drowsy and uncertain.

I turned over within the confines of our bedding, hiding my face in my hands against your chest. ‘Nate—'

The sleep disappeared from your voice and you shifted, ready to get up. ‘What?'

‘They . . . I—'

You looked over me, arm over my shoulder, before letting yourself drop back on to Tara's blanket with a grunt. ‘Jesus, Emily, they're just fooling around.'

I was shocked. Shocked that they would do it, and that you wouldn't care. Had you behaved that way? I couldn't catch my breath, rigid beneath the blankets.

You shifted on to your back and held me against your chest. ‘Ain't worth fussing over. Just try to sleep.'

The fire cracked again behind me and I flinched as if I'd been shot. Your touch was making me feel strange.
Everything
was making me feel strange. I couldn't bear it. Struggling up, I pulled the top blanket away and, wrapping it around my shoulders, I stamped away towards the rocky butte. The night was dark, the moon just a slip, and I didn't know where I was heading so blindly until I walked straight into a rock, bruising my knee. Feeling my way, I huddled down against an upright, tucking my feet beneath me and putting my head against the stone. Many yards away, the fire still burnt. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see anything. Not them. And not you.

The morning came, and I woke with the dawn. Stretching my cramped limbs, I looked up at the watery sun, then at the camp. The fire smoked and Clear Water crouched beside it. Rose was gone, with her horse. You were with Tara and the other horses and Lucky was swinging his arms in the cold morning light. I was shy, and conscious that I had made a fool of myself. I chewed my lip, a habit Mama had always castigated me for. Finally I got down from the rocks and walked to where you stood, talking to the horses. As I approached, Lucky called over to you and gestured towards me with his head. You replied, not looking at him, picking up the hoof of the red horse.

I gave Tara a pat. You'd already saddled her, so I went through the motions of checking her cinch. Finally the words burst from me. ‘I couldn't bear it!'

‘Bear what now?' You dropped the red horse's rear hoof and straightened.

‘That. Last night.'

You watched me for what seemed like an age. ‘That's just nature.'

Pushing the drifting strands of hair from my face, I huffed. ‘Not
my
nature.'

‘No,' you said placidly, fashioning a bridle and reins from one long piece of thin rope around your elbow with practised ease. ‘Not
your
nature.'

The others ate the bread, toasted, for breakfast. I stood stubbornly with Tara, stroking her white face.

As we mounted up, you handed me the water canteen. ‘Gotta drink if you won't eat.'

I drank and handed it back, refusing to look at you. With a swift movement, you were suddenly mounted on the red horse without a saddle, for Lucky did not have a spare. You gathered the reins. ‘C'mon, English. Mount up. We got work to do.' You wheeled your horse around, leaving me standing next to Tara. I climbed into the saddle as quickly as I could.

We rode out. Lucky streaked away to what I thought was northwest. You and I went west, steadily.

‘Where are we going?' I said sullenly.

‘To a place on the railroad map. Check it out. Look at the rocks and see if they can be blasted. Or not. See about water. Elevations. Landscape.'

‘Oh.' Something else I didn't understand. I sighed and looked down at my hands on the saddlehorn. Mama would be aghast at how tanned I was becoming. You leant over and caught Tara's reins and hauled on yours, pulling us to a halt.

‘Em? What's the matter?'

I said nothing.

You sighed audibly. ‘Remember what I said, about accepting things?'

I nodded, but still didn't look at you, so you reached across and tucked the persistent stray strand of hair behind my ear, pulling on the lock. A tiny mischief. ‘The people I grew up with ain't like you.'

‘So I see,' I said stiffly.

‘Don't make them wrong, just makes them different.'

I turned my head away.

‘They ain't savages, neither. And you're dreadful pretty when you sulk, but I don't hold with sulkers.'

I bit my bottom lip. You were right, sulking wasn't nice. ‘But they . . . that wasn't proper,' I said, voice small.

You responded immediately. ‘I do get that you wouldn't understand. I do. But they weren't doing nothing wrong. You think soldiers are any different with the women they engage with on the march?'

‘Engage . . . ? W-wait, have
you
done that?' I asked, shocked and petty.

You took a deep breath. ‘Look, I'd rather Lucky'd waited until we were asleep, but they're newly married. What do you expect? He's having a hard time working out why you'd rather sleep up on the butte – if you slept at all – keeps asking me if I've forgotten how to please a woman now I'm living like a white man.'

You ducked and caught my eye, teasing. I turned my head so you couldn't see my face.

‘Oh . . . come on, it ain't like he was hurting her, is it? She—' There was silence as the penny dropped. ‘Emily? What do you
think
they were doing?'

I wanted the ground to swallow me, fiddling with Tara's reins. She shifted, picking up on my unease.

Your hand came beneath my chin, lifting my face in a way that brooked no argument. ‘Look at you, all fine and dandy, with your Mozart and your Milton and your pretty manners. You don't know nothing about nothing, do you? And your momma, selling you into wedlock on a foreign continent without even . . . Shameful is what it is.' You broke off, disgusted, and let me go.

Shameful. You thought my ignorance was something to be ashamed of.

Far off, there was a gathering noise: Rose, galloping across the plain. She was magnificent. Tall in the saddle, hair flying. Powerful, strong, capable. Everything I wasn't. She crashed to a halt between us, voice clattering.

You and she talked, your red horse increasingly skittish. Sitting down hard, bareback, you settled him, keeping up a constant conversation with Rose. Suddenly she wheeled away and was gone, leaning into her mare's neck, barely moving in the saddle.

I cleared my throat. ‘Is she always so dramatic?'

You glanced at me, calculating, before allowing our previous subject to drop. ‘Pretty much.'

‘What did she say?'

‘That the buffalo hunters are in Blackfoot territory.'

I took a breath, and my courage. ‘What are we going to do?'

You shrugged angrily. ‘Nothing we can do. Rose is up for rallying the Blackfoot, but that's dangerous, pitting the Indian against the white man.'

‘Will they listen to her?'

‘Well, traditionally our tribe and the Blackfoot ain't the greatest of friends. But they do like nothing better than a good scrap and it don't take much to rile them. And Rose and Lucky have roamed around this territory all their grown lives, got friends everywhere, on account-a Rose being Rose.' She was a speck in the distance now.

‘What does that mean, please?'

‘You noticed Rose's clothes?'

‘Yes.'

‘Who do you think she looks more like, Lucky or Clear Water?'

I thought about it. ‘Lucky. She dresses like a man.'

You nodded. ‘Fights like a man too. Tough as hell. They say she's two spirits in one body, a brave and a woman. It's a sacred thing out here. Rose gotta lot of respect around these parts.'

‘Rose fights? With men?'

You grinned. ‘When we were kids she fought with the boys like a Kilkenny cat. Rode out in her first skirmish party, the year Momma died. All the old vets were laughing at her, noisy little thing that she was. Weren't laughing so hard when she came back with a scalp on her saddle.' You watched her
disappear, suddenly serious. ‘But these days, Rose goes to war. Which is what I'm worried about.'

‘Aren't we going with her?'

‘Nope. Ain't getting involved. I got enough on my plate as it is. Got a home to look to now. You and Tara and this fella here to take care of. Ain't putting my ass out on the line again because Rose is itching for a scrap, 'cause trust me, that ain't no irregular occurrence.'

‘But if the killing goes on, won't the Blackfoot die in the winter without the buffalo?'

Glancing over at me, you raised an eyebrow. ‘You sound like you want to go with her.'

I thought about it. I never wanted to see another buffalo massacre. And I was worried for Rose. Papa said that women had no place on the battlefield. Yet he had always told me I should try to do the right thing and behave with integrity.

‘We should try and help,' I said, into the silence of the plain.

‘Why, Emily? Why would you want to go parley with Indians over the fate of some dumb animals?'

It took me a moment to speak, wanting to answer carefully. ‘Because this is wrong. It's needless killing, and it doesn't matter if it's animals or men. And in this case it's both. Papa would think we should attempt to help.' I lifted my chin and tried to sound certain.

‘It won't be safe.'

I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. ‘Safe seems like a long time ago.'

You looked into the distance, eyes narrowed. ‘OK, English, if this is what you want.' The red horse sprang forward under your heels and Tara raced to catch up. We tore over the rolling plain.

When we finally caught up with Rose, she was with Lucky and Clear Water, who had broken the camp but not made it far. Clear Water was sitting quietly on her roan pony, but Rose and Lucky were talking. You reined to a halt next to them and added your voice to the mix.

I was still catching my breath when your discussion finished.

‘Well, it's settled then, we're going to the Blackfoot.'

‘How far is it?'

‘I don't know. We'll have to find the band nearest the hunters. When I was up here last year there was one about two hours' ride from here. Should be close enough. Just gotta hope all their braves are in camp.'

We set out, arriving after some hours at the camp over a bluff giving on to a large, spread-out settlement of buffalo-hide tents of varying size. Small campfires burnt, some with pots hung over them, some just smoking. Women walked around, in long sleeveless dresses, carrying large wooden bowls on their hips or talking; children played at their feet. There were dogs everywhere, many of them at the heels of children. As we rode in, the camp stirred and young men on horses came toward us. Most of them were wearing simple deerskin shirts and their hair was different from Lucky's,
worn in varying styles. They were not quite as tall either, and very slender. Most of them looked about my age and they crowded together, blocking our way.

‘Quit gawking, Emily,' you said out of the corner of your mouth. ‘Ain't mannerly.'

I dropped my eyes. A thin, older man approached on foot. You all began to dismount straight away and I slid down from Tara, landing awkwardly on feet that had lost their circulation. It was clear the chief knew you from the way you all spoke together. Almost instantly he called you away into one of the lodges, closing the door flap behind you.

I stood with Clear Water, loosening the cinches on all the horses between us. Other women came up. They were particularly interested in my pale skin and in my eyes, and talked amongst each other as they examined me minutely. When they began to touch my face and clothes, Clear Water intervened. She handed me two of the water canteens and I followed her to the stream which flowed behind the camp. One boy, my age, was standing waist-height in the water, throwing it over himself. Shaking water from his hair like Tippet used to, he turned and waded out of the river. Naked. I stared, eyes wide, as he grabbed a loincloth from the bank and began to dry himself. Clear Water stifled a laugh at my gawping. I started and glanced at her, embarrassed, then concentrated on filling the canteen.

Clear Water and I sat on the bank for a while, watching the camp. It was a beautiful day and we were warm in the sun. Clear Water produced a piece of hard, biscuit-like tack from
her bag and passed it to me, making an eating motion. I thanked her gratefully. Then I got up and went to check on the horses, who were standing, docile, by the large tents. I saw you standing with Rose, sharing a machine-made cigarette. Rose looked at me, the corner of her mouth kinking up, and said something to you.

You shook your head, stole the cigarette from her and offered it to me, eyebrow raised in challenge. I rolled my eyes, another habit Mama loathed, and took Tara and your red horse to the river to drink. Listening to them suck up the water with satisfied grunts, I didn't notice the boy from earlier standing behind me. He was wearing leggings and a tunic and his hair, still damp, was in a thick, sleek ponytail. He smiled.