Wolf Shadow’s Promise (14 page)

Was that what the long years of doing battle with the whites had gained him? Only loathing and hatred?

Yet, was there any other way to deal with these strange beings, these pale-faces? If there was an alternative, he had yet to discover it.

But again, he digressed.

He turned around and faced back into the caves, tossing his head as droplets of water sprayed over him, pushing his hair away from his face. It was a good time to make resolutions, a good time for decisions.

He took a deep breath.
Aa
, yes, he had married her. He would be her husband in every way save one: he would hold himself from her and give her no children. If he had to, he would keep her attention diverted away from mar
riage and the marriage bed. For his own peace of mind, he must do this.

With this conclusion firmly planted in his mind and with a plan of action clearly decided, he stepped out, away from the water, and drew on his clothes.

S
he had welcomed him back with a smile, which was perhaps why his question took her so much by surprise.

She had found him watching her, arms crossed over his chest, a brooding expression on his face. How long he had stood there before her, staring at her, with his look so melancholy, she did not know.

He asked her again, “Why are you not prejudiced?”

It was an odd question considering their most recently shared intimacy. How could he think of prejudices at a time like this? His voice had been deep, though, as he had spoken to her, slightly husky, too, still mirroring a passion that she had little idea how to fulfill.

She grimaced at the thought of his fulfillment. Now, there was a topic she would like to discuss, since she was more than aware that he had not met with satisfaction.

She chanced a glance at him as he squatted down in front of her. Nervous and self-conscious, she hesitated to
say anything to him, and she quickly looked away, back toward the wolf.

Having just finished applying an herbal compound to the animal's wound, she was glad to see that the wolf at last was drifting off to sleep. She sat back, letting herself examine her handiwork as though she were witnessing not a bandage but a work of art, so closely did she inspect it.

However, she could not long deny the inevitable, and after several more lapses into silence, she found the courage to answer, picking her words well. “I don't know exactly why I'm not prejudiced, perhaps because of my mother. But,” she lifted her eyes, stealing a surreptitious look at him, “don't you think there is something else more pressing that we should discuss?”

His features became completely unreadable as he lapsed into silence.

She should say something else about it—quickly, before she lost courage—but how did one talk about these things? She sighed. He could give her a little more encouragement.

He didn't, however. He sat before her, unspeaking, waiting patiently.

She peeked at him once more before venturing, “Moon Wolf, I would ask you something.”

“Humph.” He didn't budge an inch, saying only, “I am listening.”

Taking in a quick gulp of air in the hopes that it would give her courage, she asked, “That isn't all there is to lovemaking, is it?”

He drew back as though surprised. “Are you not satisfied?”

“Oh, yes, yes, I am,” she reassured him. “It's not that. It's only that I'm wondering…” Again, she swept up her eyelashes. “…are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you…satisfied?”

“Do you mean, am I happy to have you as my wife? I am.”

She sent him another curious look, not convinced.

“There are many things we will have to discuss,” he was saying, “many parts of our lives that we will have to reconsider, now that we are committed to one another. We have much time to do this, however.”

She nodded. “Earlier today, before we ah…” She cleared her throat. “Earlier today, you said something about…marriage?”

“
Aa
, yes, it is this that is on your mind. It is true that I have taken you for my wife. Did you think I would bed you without that?”

“I…I wasn't…no, of course not.”

“Why do you ask? In my village a man marries a woman in one way alone, with intimacy. Is this not how it is done in your culture?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Do you need this cer-ti-fi-cate that you have spoken of?”

She nodded. “That and a preacher to seal the pact.”

“
Aa
, yes. Then it is probably true that we are married by my customs, but perhaps not by yours.”

“Yes.”

He contemplated this in silence. “Would the white man marry us within his own practice?”

She regarded him through lowered lashes. Did she dare tell him the truth? Of course she had little choice. “I do not think we could find such a man here in the west,” she said.

He nodded. “It is as I would have thought.”

She waited a few moments, then continued. “Moon Wolf, I…” She felt the beginnings of a flush on her face. Thank goodness for the cave's poor lighting. “I…,” she
began again. “There is something else that I would discuss with you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Besides our commitment to one another?”

“Yes, I…what I mean to say is, what I need to know is…about the act…of love.” There, she'd said it.

And he looked stunned.

But at least she had his attention. “I was thinking that…”—she flashed him a quick smile—“well, I've been wondering, not about our marriage, but while you were taking your shower…I was musing over it and it seems to me that you should have also been…satisfied, shouldn't you?”

He sat back, clearly stumped, though any initial surprise she glimpsed in his expression was quickly masked. His next words were spoken with care. “I know of few people, even when married, who discuss these things.” He raised his chin. “However, you are wise to ask me. For I will tell you now that I
was
gratified…greatly.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Were you?”

“
Aa soka'pii
, yes, good,” he said, his right hand signaling out in sign language the words that he spoke.

“But I thought that when two people made love, the man also reaches a certain…ah, release…and you did not do that…and…you were really pleasured?”

“
Aa
, yes, it is so.” He held his head so high and sat so erect that she was reminded of this man's tremendous pride as he continued, “Though you are correct in observing that I did not reach complete…satisfaction.”

“Oh,” she raised her eyes to his, “that was what I meant.”

“Humph!” He nodded quickly.

“Then…” She spoke with immense reluctance, not knowing exactly how to phrase these next words. But she would not stop now. After taking a deep breath, she asked,
“Then shouldn't you and I…shouldn't we…ah…continue?”

“It is not necessary.” A long pause followed his words before he suddenly gave her a sharp glance. “This concerns you?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He acknowledged her with another nod, a stoic calm settling across his features. He said, “Do not worry. My passion is relieved for now.”

“Is it? How?”

He smiled without humor. “A bath under a cold waterfall is a good thing sometimes.”

“Oh.” She digested this in absolute wonder. “And so you…ah…are no longer in need of…”

He nodded. “For now.”

She fell silent, wondering how she was ever going to broach this next subject.

“But we leave the point,” he noted, “which is my first question to you. I will ask it again, why are you not prejudiced?”

She thought for a moment, then countered, “Why
are
you?”

He drew back, the light from the lantern next to him casting shadows upon his face, illuminating only one side. It reminded her of a half moon, and it gave him an odd, phantomlike appearance.

He had crouched down to squat in front of her. Now, he shifted his position and came to sit in front of her cross-legged, there on their blanketed carpet in the cave.

He lifted his eyes to hers and sat slightly forward, over Wolf, as he asked of her, “Is it your wish that I answer your question before you take up mine?”

She nodded.

“Very well,” he agreed and leaned back, only to lapse into silence, his attention obviously inward.

She waited, noticing little things about him…his hair, free of braids, hanging loose and wet over his shoulders; his eyes, dark and unfathomable, staring off into nothing, his look somber. He seemed slightly heavier now than when they had made love, though it appeared to be more a graveness of spirit, not of actual weight. Was something troubling him?

There was an intoxicating scent about him, too, a fragrance that was part mint, part sage, and part prairie grass, as well as all rugged male. Mixed with the earthy scents of the cave and the wolf, the aroma held her captivated.

There was no mistaking the enticing, sexual quality of this man, either. But there was something about him, a unique characteristic that was hard to pinpoint but that had always drawn her to him.

It was not simply that he was handsome; he was, without being greatly aware of it. But that was not what drew her to him. There was something else about him…a beauty…an ethereal trait that she would have been hard pressed to express in words. It was as though he thrived, not only in this, our physical universe, but in some other world as well: perhaps a universe of beauty.

She gazed down to watch his hands as they petted the wolf. The dusky color of those hands, though only a few shades darker than her own, seemed a pretty contrast against the more whitened color of his nails. His fingers were long, graceful, and watching their movement, she could not help but remember how those hands had felt against her skin.

No body hair marred his figure, either, she was quick to observe; not on his fingers, nor on his arms or chest. Even his chin remained smooth, despite the lack of a razor. She noted again the chain about his neck, the same one she had returned to him, but she hadn't the courage to ask about it, wondering why he simply did not return it to her.

He took his time responding to her question before finally replying, “You must allow me some moments in which to think before I answer you. You have brought up something that I must give careful consideration. I am not Certain why I am prejudiced, if I am. Perhaps you could answer my question first.”

She gulped. “Very well.”

He asked again, “I have observed that you appear to have no prejudice. You and your mother are the only white people I know who are not. Why?”

She didn't know how to respond to such a question without sounding either righteous or indignant. But, after some thought, she replied, “I only know that being prejudiced makes little sense. Perhaps, too, I am not trying to take something away from the Indians.” Her own fingers came up to stroke the wolf.

“Take something away? You mean the land?”

She agreed. “That, and the furs, the horses, even your art.”

“Art?”

“Your robes and blankets, things your women make. They sell quite well in the east.”

“Humph. I did not know that. And what, do you think, should the Indian do about this?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. I truly don't. Perhaps what you are already doing?”

“Humph!” Moon Wolf had bent down over his pet as though he listened for its heartbeat, and Alys was struck at once by the look of her husband's pitch black locks, coarse and wet, against the gray-brown fur of the wolf. She reached out to touch a droplet of water where it fell from a single tress of his hair, the feel of the liquid cold and invigorating against her hand.

He raised his head in reaction to her, his eyes staring
straight into hers, his look for a moment full of carnal interest. He quickly turned his gaze away.

She tilted her head and studied him. He had to be the most handsome man of her acquaintance. Her gaze roamed over him lazily, as though she might have several years in which to examine him.

She smiled then, leisurely, before saying, “Maybe I also feel no prejudice because my mother raised me differently than other children. From the beginning of my life, I remember the scorn my mother showed to the townspeople who lived here at Fort Benton, the care she displayed to the Indian maids who served her and others. She, more than anyone I know, hated prejudice.”

“Your mother is a good woman. Almost as good as her daughter.”

“Hmmm.” She raised her eyes to his, only to find him watching her. She ventured, “And now it's your turn to answer the same question.”

He caught her eye. “
Oki
, come,” he commanded, then motioned toward her with his right hand as he stood up, his movement so graceful she knew she would never be able to duplicate it. “Let us leave Wolf,” he explained, “and allow him to sleep without us talking over him.”

“Yes,” she agreed and stood up, following Moon Wolf.

He led her to his own blanket, where he at once sat down, cross-legged, pulling back the blanket and lifting out an object that looked to be very much like a pipe.

With a beauty of grace and some ceremony, he stuffed tobacco into its pot, held it up, and lit it, slowly brushing the smoke in toward his head. Then he offered it to her.

She almost choked. “You want me to smoke?”

He nodded.

“Even though I am only a woman.”

He gave her a puzzling glance. “Only? Why do you say that?”

“I don't really have a reason. It's just that I thought that your women do not sit in council, nor do they smoke, and so—”

He paused significantly, letting her words trail away before he began, “Let me tell you a story that my grandfather once told me, so that you will understand the Indian a little better.

“Once, a long time ago,” he continued, not waiting for her reply, “Old Man, or
Napi
, ruled the world. But it was a very boring world. Men stayed with men; women with women. Men went to war with each other, but they had no clothes and no lodges in which to rest. They ate raw meat and had no comforts.

“Now, the women had many beautiful things and great lodges, but no one to provide for them or to give them protection.

“And so it happened that
Napi
, seeing this, bargained with the women, taking the wisest and most intelligent woman as his own. All the other men did the same and soon, all was in great harmony.

“It was only when this happened that our men began to develop compassion and valor. But a man only kept his heart so long as he had nurtured and stayed with his woman. My people have a saying,
mat'-ah-kwi tam-ap-i-ni-po-ke-mi-o-sin
, ‘Not found is happiness without woman.'