She sighed. This man was the stuff of heroes, the most obvious heroism being his rescue of her. Oddly, he did not wish to have this status, and this fact was why they were playing the desperate game ofCos-soó.
"It's your turn," he signed.
"So it is," she responded and picked up the round bowl. She hit the bowl on the ground several times, letting the pieces rise up a few inches and fall down before finally settling it into what could be called her "throw."
She grinned. "Well, what have we here? The large claw is standing up and counts twenty-five, and I have a majority of the smaller crow's claws in red, three in fact, giving me twenty-five more. Four of the plum stones are turned black side up for twenty points. Three of the blue china which count for twelve, three buttons turned up for two each and four brass tacks turned concave for one point each. I win the hand and win your knife. What will you put up next?" She laughed and gave him the equivalent of ninety-six sticks which represented her throw, for, according to the rules, he kept track of her score and she, his.
"Do not be too confident," he signed. "I have never lost to anyone when I play this game."
"So you tell me. Be quiet now and give me your knife," she said, then signed the meaning of the words.
"My knife stays in front of me according to the rules, although it is yours."
"Fair enough. It's your turn."
"I will take my turn, but first I would like to tell you how it is that I have never lost this game. Are you interested?"
"Áa," she said in the Blackfoot language.
He grinned. "Then, I will tell you," he signed. "I decide first what throw I want and then determine my next throw will be exactly what I want."
"Hmmm," she murmured. Then, in sign, she said, "That's very interesting. Does it happen as you want every time?"
"Saa, not always. But, it occurs often enough that I have never lost a game, and this game is strictly known as a game of chance."
"I will have to think about this. Meanwhile, it is your turn."
****
"IBELIEVE WE NEED TOcall a break."
Laylah glanced up at him, smiled, and, in reaction to her, he felt his heart take wing even while he strove to appear serious and intent. And, he must appear so. After all, she—a woman—was challenging him.
"Certainly we can have a break," she said and signed the words as she spoke. "But, don't forget that your knife, all your robes and your two horses are now mine."
"I do not forget."
She grinned at him again, and Eagle Heart thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman. Indeed, her hair was a mess, being tossed and tangled, and she wore nothing more than an unflattering robe of his own making. Yet, when she smiled, it was as though Sun shone through her eyes. However, there was a drawback to her lure: he had never played the game with anyone who was not only as good as he was, but was, perhaps, a little better.
She had taken to the game as though she had been born to play it. Quickly—and sometimes even before him—she knew the exact amount of the points in a throw with little more than a simple look. Often, she memorized the points. She kept excellent totals, even without the required sticks to keep track of it all, and she laughed while she played as though she were a carefree child. And, with every smile, every giggle, every delightful glance she gave him, he was falling much too deeply in love with her.
And yet, if she won as he wished her to do, he would have to let her leave him, for he did not fool himself into believing she would choose his lifestyle over the one she had been born to. Yes, if she won, it might possibly be the hardest task he would ever have to do to take her back to the fort.
Yet, as the afternoon wore on, and, as they reclined within their small enclosure, they laughed and joked about one thing or another as though they were fast acquaintances and well known to each other. But—and this was hard for him to believe—she was winning most every time she took her turn. It was getting to the point where he had little left to put up against her for betting.
Of course, she often accused him of cheating and trying to throw the game in her favor, but the fact was, he wasn't. He was playing with as much knowledge and cleverness as he possessed.
Perhaps it was male pride as she had suggested, but the idea of being completely bested by a woman was not a moment of pleasure for him. When he threw a game to give her favor, he still knew he was throwing the game.
In this, he was not.
Perhaps he should never have confided to her how he managed to win these games of chance, for she seemed to have perfected the method without any further assistance from him.
"I think you're right," she said in English as well as sign. "It is much darker outside now, and I believe it will soon be time to have our supper."
"Áa," he signed, "and I also have several chores to do, the care of our horses being one of those. I must also ensure this little hut is built well enough to withstand more of the storm, for I believe there are yet many days of the blizzard ahead of us. I would like to see to these tasks before we begin the game again."
"Very well," she said. "I will try to rest while you are gone, especially if we are to be up through the night."
