No! It couldn't be. She couldn't feel this way about a man so alien to her. She cried because, emotionally, this was simply out of her experience.
This man was a stranger to her—a man from an unknown culture. Yet, suddenly and without her willing it, she felt so close to him that she was certain she not only knew him well, she also understood who he was.
Was this what it felt like to be attached to someone to the depth of one's soul? It was sometimes called “love”? Yet, it wasn't love; she didn't love him, nor did he love her.
Despite this, he had come to her rescue at the risk of his own life. He had stayed with her the night through, and she was certain if he hadn't been with her, rubbing warmth into her body, she would not have survived.
She fought her feelings about this now, realizing there could be no love between them...ever. She cried new tears, recognizing the dual nature of her feelings: she was tied to him, but she didn't want to be.
She tried to hold back the sob rising up from within her, but it escaped her lips anyway. A thought went round and round in her mind: was he, then, to be a part of her for the rest of her life?
She gasped as fresh tears fell down her cheeks, but this only caused him to pull her more deeply into his embrace. He spoke to her in his own language then, as though she were a child in need of comforting.
His sympathy for her plight seemed to aid her state of mind, however, and a calmness of spirit settled in over her. Perhaps it wasn't so bad. Maybe such a feeling of closeness between them was natural and would go away, given time. After all, one didn't save another person's life, and then return to the way they had each one been before, with no thought of the other. The truth was, whether she wished it or not, she realized she was here and alive now only because of this man's help and quick thinking. Of course she would feel a pull of affection toward him. It was unavoidable.
Yet, she was well aware she was engaged to Thomas, and she loved him, not this man who was holding her in his arms and speaking softly to her as though she were a babe in need of protection. But, might his kindness be a ruse? After all, he was a Blackfoot Indian...from the tribe of Indians known by the trappers and traders as the Tigers of the Plains, the same tribe who hated all whites.
She was white. Did this mean he hated her? If this were so, however, why had he rescued her, with no thought of the danger to his own well-being? And, not only had he come to save her, he had also kept her alive through the night.
As she stood in this place within his arms, she was more than aware that, from this point forward, her life would change even if she didn't want it to. But, would the change be good or bad?
Ugh! She was certain it would not be good. She knew very well that no one in her family would understand what she was going through, for, in her society, this feeling of closeness with Eagle Heart was not only forbidden, his presence in her life would be considered degrading to both her and her family. She closed her eyes as the tears continued to fall down over her face.
****
SHE WAS CRYING. SHEhad every right to cry, and yet her tears cut into him like the stab of a knife. He was well aware of the moment when she had come into the knowledge she would have perished without him. But, he didn't want her praise, if this were the emotion she might be experiencing.
He was here simply because no woman should die because of her man's lack of wisdom. What he was doing he did freely and without any intent of being repaid by her in any way.
Yesterday, when he'd realized her man had come back without her, there had been no thought that could have entered his mind that would have prevented him from leaving the fort to find her and save her life, if he could. After all, he was accustomed to the storms in his country, and, though treacherous even to a man who understood them, her need was greater than the danger to himself.
The previous evening had been turbulent for him, not knowing if she would come through this alive. But, here she was, standing before him, even if she were shaky on her feet. Didn't she know how happy he was to see she was still alive and was with him in this place and at this time?
Still, he understood her embarrassment. After all, he was well aware that his sisters would probably experience a similar discomfiture.
Perhaps speaking to her might lessen her unease, so he said in Blackfeet, "I do not understand why most females feel embarrassment because of the needs of their bodies. Are not the requirements of their flesh the same as any other person's? Is this not also a part of living?"
She didn't respond, except perhaps her crying became less.
Still holding her in his arms, he sighed. But, he continued speaking and uttered softly, "I have not yet determined the extent of your injuries. There was not a moment last night to examine what happened to your body that kept you in the coulee and unable to return to the fort with your man."
It was true. It had been all he could do to keep rubbing warmth back into her throughout most of the night. There had not been time to examine her injuries.
He continued, "As soon as we return to the shelter, I will try to find out what kind of damage your fall caused you."
"I do not understand your words," she responded in a whisper. "But, I like the sound of your voice. It's as though I dreamed all night of your speaking to me, singing to me and sometimes even accompanying your song with steady drumbeats. Forever, the tone of your voice will live within me, as will the beat of your drum."
She didn't use the language of gestures to indicate what she'd said. And he didn't press her to, for, as she stood in his arms, he felt the essence of her reach out to him, and he answered her in kind, drawing close to her in spirit. It was not a new experience for him to touch another in the spiritual world. Indeed, sometimes matters not of the flesh seemed more real to him than those of the physical.
But, what was being forged between them was more than a soul-to-soul communication. There was a bond forming between them that even he hadn't expected. He could feel it; indeed, he welcomed it. Standing as he was so closely to her and with her wrapped within his arms, it happened: she became a part of him and he a part of her, and, so attuned was he to her, he understood her thoughts.
He knew then: she didn't want this closeness between them. She was fearful of its power over her. Yet, there was nothing she could do to change it. It simply was.
Hoping to ease her mind, he murmured in his own language, "I know you are afraid of me. I also understand you are already in love with a man and now find yourself alone with another man...a man who is from a different culture than your own." He didn't add another thought which was that they would be together for several more days as the Wind Maker spent his fury upon the prairie.
But, he felt her relax, and so he continued, "I realize you don't know what to expect from me. Will I help you, or will I demand more from you than you are willing to give?" He set her slightly away from him so he could use sign to communicate these last words.
She nodded and looked away from him.
