Frontier Courtship (13 page)

F
aith didn’t see Connell again until evening. The day had seemed endless. Bored, lonely and growing more fidgety by the hour, she’d thought of offering to help the Cheyenne women with their chores. If they’d seemed more amiable when she’d approached them she might have tried.

Some of the young warriors, however, were a different story. They’d acted much
too
friendly when she’d left the meeting lodge and started to walk back across the encampment toward Irene’s teepee. Rather than stir up more trouble, Faith had decided to be discreet and had reversed direction, determined to stay out of sight until Connell called for her.

Several shy little girls had peeked in at her by getting down on their knees and peering under the raised outer edges of the teepee. Then they’d run away giggling when Faith had tried to talk to them. Other than that, and the occasional passage of a rangy dog, she’d remained totally isolated for the rest of the day.

Shadows lengthened. A cooling breeze wafted beneath the vented skirts of the teepee, bringing Faith welcome respite from the stifling heat. Outside, the camp was coming alive. People called to each other, women sang, children shouted, and somewhere not far-off somebody was playing a flute.

The sound of passing hoofbeats drew her to the door. She moved the edge of the flap just enough to see out. Several mounted Cheyenne were driving fresh horses into the circle and exchanging them for ones that had been staked in front of various teepees during the day. The men rode in such harmony with their horses it was as if they and the animal were a single entity. Little wonder the U.S. Cavalry had found the Plains Indians to be such formidable foes.

Though weary from relentless pacing, Faith couldn’t force herself to rest. She’d been almost ready to throw caution to the winds and make a mad dash for Irene’s when Connell finally appeared. He ducked inside and let the door flap fall closed.

“Oh, thank goodness! I thought everyone had forgotten me,” she said, hurrying toward him.

His raised hand stopped her. “Simmer down. I just came to check on you and tell you to stay put. I’ll send for you later. When it’s safe.”

“Safe? Here? How can any of us be safe in this camp? You should have seen the way those Indians leered at me when I tried to go find Irene!”

“You went out? By yourself?” He muttered an unintelligible expletive. “No wonder.”

Faith was sorry he was upset, but she wasn’t willing to accept the blame for his foul mood. “You never told me to stay inside,” she argued. “As a matter of fact, you didn’t bother to tell me anything before you went off and left me. What was I supposed to do? Sit here and twiddle my thumbs all day?”

“It would have been preferable to attracting attention. Have you looked outside our door lately?”

“I watched a herd of horses go by about half an hour ago,” she said with a scowl and a glance past his shoulder. “Why? What’s out there now?”

“A Cheyenne with a flute. Didn’t you hear him playing?”

“I heard some unusual music. Is that important?”

“To him it is. The flute and the special tune come from a medicine man. Hearing it is supposed to make you fall in love with whoever plays it.”

“Me?” Eyes wide, she gaped at Connell. “That Indian expects me to fall in love with him?”

“He sure does.”

“Oh, dear. What should I do?”

“Well, for starters, don’t get close enough for him to throw his blanket over you. If you do, he’ll take it as a sign you’re willing to be courted.”

“You mean like Red Deer and Irene?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, Faith rued them, wished she could call them back, but the damage had been done.

She saw Connell’s jaw clench, his spine grow rigid. “No,” he said. “Like Red Deer and Singing Sun Woman.”

“Who’s that?”

“That’s the name the Arapaho gave Irene. After tonight she’ll become Irene Wellman again and Singing Sun Woman will cease to exist.”

Faith wasn’t so sure. It seemed inconceivable that Irene could just forget the past year and go back to being the same person she’d been before coming to live with the Indians. A lot more had changed than just her name. And speaking of her name…

“I can see why they’d think the watch was singing, but how did they come up with the sun part?” Faith asked.

“The pocket watch has a gold case. Maybe it looked like the sun to them.”

“That makes sense.” Puzzled, she thought of the few descriptive Indian names she knew. “What about Walks With Tree? Did they call him that because he was born crippled and needed a wooden crutch?”

“Probably not. Children aren’t given permanent names when they’re little. Sometimes they do something special to earn their adult name. Other times they’ll be presented a name as a gift. An older warrior may admire a younger man and give away his own good name as a kind of blessing.”

“Wouldn’t that get confusing? Two people would have the same name?”

“It doesn’t work like that. Once a name is given away it’s treated like any other gift. The one who had the name before chooses a different new one for himself.”

“Gracious. I’d be totally befuddled.”

“Not if you were used to it.”

“I will never get used to all this,” she said, sweeping her arm in an arc that took in the whole teepee. “How much longer must we stay here?”

“We’ll leave tomorrow,” he said. Then he smiled slightly and added, “Unless you go wandering again and get yourself engaged to be married before morning.”

When the same girl who had brought her clothes and food the previous evening returned, Faith was so glad to see a familiar face she felt like hugging her. How she wished the young woman spoke English so she could properly thank her for her kindness. Still, she reasoned, there were some emotions that lent themselves well to pantomime, graciousness being one of them.

Faith grinned as she reached for the girl’s hand and said, “I’m so glad to see you again.” Genuine tears of thanksgiving misted her vision. “I’m going to be leaving soon. I want to thank you for letting me wear your beautiful dress.”

The girl tried to pull away. Faith resisted. “Don’t be frightened. I want to be your friend.” A barely perceptible hesitation on the girl’s part encouraged her. “That’s right. Friend,” Faith repeated.

She let go to use both hands for gesturing, sweeping her hands from herself to the other and back again while continuing to nod and smile. “Friends. You and me. Good friends. Yes?”

The girl finally nodded.

Faith was thrilled to have spanned their language barrier, however minimally. She pointed to her own chest and said, “Little Dove Woman,” then gestured toward her companion, eyebrows raised questioningly.

The Cheyenne said something in her own language, then translated it. In English it became, “Spotted Fawn Woman.”

Feeling like a teacher who had just broken through to a difficult student, Faith could tell her companion was as proud of their progress as she was. Encouraged, she caught up folds of her soft deerskin dress as if about to curtsy and tried again to make herself understood. “My dress? Where is my dress?”

Spotted Fawn shook her head and took a cautious step backward.

“It’s okay,” Faith cajoled. “Don’t go. You can give it to me later.”

Again came the shake of the girl’s head, this time a lot more insistently and accompanied by a wave of her hands.

Faith frowned. “What’s wrong? I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”

Whirling, the young Cheyenne made a dash for the door, only to be stopped by running into Connell’s broad chest with a dull thump.

He caught her neatly. Held her fast. His gaze shot to where Faith stood. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I thought we were becoming friends, then she suddenly got upset and tried to run away.”

He spoke calmly to the girl. Her answer made him smile. “She thinks you want your old dress back.”

“I do.” Faith continued to scowl. “I’ll need it to wear when we leave here.”

“That’s not how this works,” he explained carefully. “Spotted Fawn Woman offered you the best she had. When you accepted it, you agreed to a trade.”

“She wants my old calico? It’s a mess.”

“Is it the best you had?”

“It’s
all
I had,” Faith said.

“Then she’s happy with it. If you insist on trading back you’ll be insulting her skill. She made what you’re wearing with her own hands. It probably took months of her spare time just to do the beadwork.”

“Tell her it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned and I wouldn’t dream of parting with it.” Faith spoke to Connell, but her tender regard rested on the Indian girl. “I’ll treasure it always. And please say I wish I had something better, something prettier to give to her besides my old dress.”

Watching closely, Faith could tell when he’d conveyed the full message because Spotted Fawn’s expression softened and her winning smile returned.

“You do have one other thing,” Connell reminded her. “The quilt.”

For an instant Faith’s heart rebelled. Then she got control of her selfish desire to keep her grandmother’s handiwork and nodded at Connell. “You’re right. That will be perfect. I’ll get it.”

Lovingly displaying the quilt in her outstretched arms, Faith presented it to the younger woman. “Tell her I want her to have it,” she said sincerely. “To go with the dress.”

He spoke, then said, “She wants to give you something else in return.”

“No. This outfit is already an unfair trade. We don’t know what’s ahead for us. Anything could happen. I’d like to know my grandmother’s quilt is safe and treasured, as it should be.”

Tears sprang to Spotted Fawn’s eyes when Connell translated the presentation of the gift. That emotional reaction was all the thanks, all the confirmation, Faith wanted or needed.

It was wonderful to be so positive she was doing the right thing for a change. She knew there was a time, not long ago, when she would have clung to her last possession, seeing it as the most important element in her life. Yet, now that she’d been stripped of every concrete tie to her past, she felt liberated.

Faith’s eyes also filled with unshed tears when the girl accepted the quilt and clasped it close to her heart as if it were the most precious gift she’d ever received. Giving it was certainly the most rewarding thing Faith had ever done.

Being able to part with the quilt and be truly glad to have given it away felt like a direct answer to her prayers for deliverance from covetousness. Seeing how happy she’d made the girl doubled Faith’s blessing and she silently thanked the Lord that she’d been allowed to atone for her sins so perfectly. So conclusively.

This is going to be the first of many more selfless decisions I make,
she told herself proudly,
beginning with not being jealous of Connell’s relationship with Irene anymore.

To her consternation, that thought doused her jubilance like a bucket of water poured over a roaring campfire. Though a remnant of joy remained, it was overshadowed by a sense of loss that was just like the way Faith had felt when she’d realized she was going to have to put aside her own desires and leave the place she loved in order to keep the promise she’d made to her mother.

This recent promise to eschew jealousy was even more binding, she realized with chagrin. It had been part of a prayer, so it was a vow directly to God.

Faith was still scuffling with her inner self over that judicious reasoning when Connell said, “That was a real nice thing to do. I’m proud of you, Little Dove Woman.”

She huffed in self-deprecation. “You’d best keep calling me a dirty dove for a while longer. I haven’t quite got the hang of keeping my thoughts pure yet.”

The surprised look on his face was bad enough. Watching him erupt into laughter a few moments later was worse.

“I think you’ll do just as you are,” he said when he finally stopped chuckling enough to speak.

“Ha!” Faith made a face, said aside, “I hope the Good Lord agrees with you. Somehow, I doubt it.”

Before she left the lodge, Spotted Fawn Woman carefully combed and braided Faith’s thick, dark hair once again, this time also rolling the plaits into spirals, one on each side of her head, and fastening them there with leather thongs trimmed in beads and small, colored feathers. It wasn’t until the girl was leaving with the quilt that Faith realized she had stripped the decorations she’d used from her own hair.

Standing alone in the center of the teepee, every nerve in her body taut, Faith listened. She could only imagine what was going on outside. Most of the individual calling and conversing had died down. Chanting and the syncopated beating of drums had taken their place. Everything vibrated in unison, as if the camp itself contained a living, throbbing, human heart.

Instead of the noises lulling her, as before, this cacophony raised gooseflesh. Where was Connell? He’d promised to return for her as soon as he could. Suppose something awful had happened to him? Suppose he’d been hurt? Attacked? Even killed! That notion was enough to spur her into action.

“If he’s not back by the time I count to a thousand I’m going to find him,” she muttered. “One, two, three…”

The tent flap swung back. Faith gasped, then took a ragged breath of relief. It was Connell.

“Thank heavens! Where have you been?”

“Busy,” he said. His glance traveled over her from head to toe and back again. “I wish you didn’t look quite so pretty tonight.”

“Thanks, I think. Would you like me to rub some mud on my face again?”

“Too late for that.” Turning, he started through the door. “Follow me. And don’t say a word. Is that clear?”

“Of course, but—”

He stopped only long enough to scowl down at her and say, “Hush. If you don’t do one other thing I tell you the rest of the way to California, do
this.
Understand?”

Faith nodded solemnly, lowered her eyes and fell into place behind him like the subservient person she was supposed to be.

It was not his plea for silence that made her comply, it was the glitter of warning in his stare, the threat of menace underlying his tone.