Yet, strangely, no amount of happy thoughts brought her a sense of joy. What was it she had once told Eagle Heart? That she had changed? That, regardless of what she decided, happiness would never be hers?
Was she destined, then, to live a life much like that of her grandmother, to never be able to grasp true happiness? Sadly, this might possibly be so.
CHAPTER NINE
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THE WARM SNOW EATER, a chinook, blew in a few days after they had finished their game ofCos-soó.It had melted the snow so quickly, it had appeared as though the shallow creek at the bottom of the coulee might easily become a river that would flood this valley.
But, Eagle Heart would not let the rising river harm them, although the water from the melting snow might sweep away their tiny home some time during the day. However, by then they would be gone; today was the day when he would take Steals-my-breath back to the fort.
Although it was true the Windmaker had given them another few days of fast winds and heavy snowfall, today was different. The warm winds of the Snow Eater would ensure the snow would soon be gone. And, he wished to find the party of white men—who would surely be riding about looking for her—before they found him.
As he felt the warmth of the wind caressing his cheeks, he thought back to the early morning when he had awakened to hear the cold, northerly winds being silenced by the calmer, warmer gales from the south. Reluctantly, he had realized today was to be the day he would return Steals-my-breath to her home.
He had awakened her then, and had told her he would be escorting her back to the fort today. He had said no more than this before he had left their shelter to sing his praises to Sun, the Creator. He had bathed then and had dressed appropriately for the day, donning his white leggings, his white moccasins and his white shirt.
Turning away from the sight of the sun arising in the eastern sky, he paced silently back to their little hut. Seeing it, he was reminded of his joy in being with Steals-my-breath and recalled watching her hobble into and out of their shelter. Always, she had used the cane he'd made for her, it seeming to have become a symbol of her independence from him. And, he was glad of it in many ways, but not in others.
The cane had allowed her to make discreet and “necessary” visits to the outside without his help. And, although he had always stood watch over her when she was at her bath, he did not mention this to her, hoping she would thoroughly enjoy her freedom. Indeed, this kind of individuality was very important for her so she could make the wisest decisions about her future, even if this meant she might decide to leave him.
Over these last few days, they had spoken only a little of their separately held beliefs. Instead, they had played different and simpler games with one another—ones that did not cause a person to become utterly ruined. And, when evening had come, they had related stories to one another of the legends they each remembered from their youth. He had also learned her language a little better when she had told her stories, and, although he couldn't speak English well, he could now understand most of what she said.
He had not told her this, and there was a reason for it: he had wanted her to speak what was on her mind without realizing he knew what she was saying. In this way, he had come to know she loved him, but not enough to cause her to want to leave her people and marry him.
And, he had not, and would not, press her. He would let her go. He had promised her this. But, he doubted he would ever forget her. Indeed, he might love her forever.
Did this mean he would never marry another? No, Blackfoot men were expected to marry, to have children and raise a family. He would marry, and possibly might even come to love another. But, he would never forget She-steals-my-breath. Always, she would have a place of honor within his heart.
At present, it was still early in the morning. He had awakened in the dark that always announces the soon-to-be appearance of Sun. He had strapped on his clothes and his weapons, then and had set out to say his prayers and enjoy a cold bath in the creek. The wind had been warm and welcome to him as he had fully dressed beside the stream, and, as he walked toward their shelter, he felt better able to face the day.
As he crawled into their tiny shelter and inched inside it, he looked upon this beautiful woman whom he had come to love with all his heart. Gone were his considerations about the society he belonged to— the medicine men—and whether or not they might accept her as his wife. In truth, he didn't care whether they approved or not. He loved her. This was all that mattered to him.
Gone, also, was his fear he might lose his power. This would not happen for the good reason that he had not coerced this woman into lying with him. Instead, he had loved her while keeping his distance.
As he settled into their abode, he asked, "Did you bathe while I was gone?"
"I did," she answered with sign. "Will you help me to put on my dress? I am sorry to have to ask this of you, but I cannot do it on my own because my arm is still broken, and I cannot put it through the dress's armhole."
He nodded, knowing this would be a form of torture for him, because, though he had kept his distance from her for these several days, the truth was he wanted to take her in his arms and make her his woman. For him, it was a physical problem as well as a spiritual one.
Yet, he helped her to dress, since her arm was still wrapped up tightly and he was well aware this made it difficult for her to clothe herself without someone else's aid. At least he had finished it without giving reign to his lust.
After she was fully dressed and sat before him, beautiful in her green and fancy white-man's dress, he wished he didn't know there was little beneath her dress, since many of her underthings had become useful rags these last few days. He thought back to that first night, when he'd had to cut her underclothes away from her to save her. But, now he wished she wore the delicate attire, for they added another layer of protection against what he wished to experience with her.
As he gazed at her now, he saw her sitting up straight, for, although he knew her right leg was still not fully healed, it had mended well enough to allow her to sit with her legs to the side. He was glad to see it.
And, though he was pleased to know she was healing well, even this—simply gazing at her—was torturous, since he wished to marry her and take her to his home. Yet, he would not force her to go with him. She would come with him willingly or not at all.
At last, he knew they were prepared to leave, and he asked in sign, "Are you ready to go?"
She nodded, and, as she came up onto her knees, he watched her closely, seeing the wetness in her eyes as she looked around their little abode. Then, speaking in her own tongue, she said, "You may not understand this, Mr. Eagle Heart, but I am going to miss this place. And, I am going to miss you most terribly, I think. Indeed, I don't know how I am going to live my life without you. But, I must try to do it, for I cannot live in your world. And, you cannot come to live in mine."
He swallowed. "Me...marry you...then you no...leave," he said in English.
"You know I can't do that," she signed. "I might ruin your life, and I cannot do this to you. Besides, where would we live? We would be welcome nowhere, and a woman needs a place to live. You know this. I know this." Then, in English, she continued, "But, don't think I won't miss you, because I will." She didn't look at him. And, he didn't say a word in response, at least not at first.
After a moment, she looked up at him, and he signed, "You do not have to go. You can stay with me. I will say this once more, and then, if your answer is still ‘no’, I will not again ask you this before we go to meet your people. So I repeat my question to you now. Will you be my wife?"
