Plus, and this was important: she was utterly dependent upon him for her survival. She had no means by which to hunt, nor did she know how to clean game without his help, nor how to make a fire without flint. She didn't even have the skills to construct a shelter that would protect her from rain or snow. Indeed, she would require his cooperation.
But, there was an even larger problem than any of these: they had both invited God into their marriage. This meant her God and the Creator, or Sun—as he called his God—were part of their union. Yet, his God allowed a man to commit polygamy, whereas her God forbid it.
Should she tell him this? Would it make a difference?
Realizing she had no choice but to conquer her inability to speak with him, she threw her hair back behind her shoulders, stood up and, bending to exit the wiki-up, stared at the ground as she took a step forward. But, that one step took her straight into his arms: he had been standing within a few feet of the entrance.
Looking up into his dark, dark eyes, she murmured, "I must talk to you."
He nodded. She turned around and, looking over her shoulder, noted he was following her back into their temporary—yet what had been and still was—their honeymoon lodge.
Quietly, she sought her side of the wiki-up and hoped he would step toward his place within the lodge, also. She did not wish him to sit next to her, at least not at present.
Luckily, he did as she'd hoped and sat across from her. He did not look at her, and she’d expected this, for she had come to realize this was a form of etiquette he followed—not looking directly at a person—to show respect and courtesy. She had also come to learn that it was only within the privacy of their own lodge that a married couple joked with and enjoyed longing looks at one another.
She breathed in deeply, let her breath out quickly and said in English, "Let us talk about the marriage custom of taking more than one wife, if you please."
He nodded.
"Is it true? Might an Indian man have as many wives as he can afford?"
"Áa," he said, then switched to sign language, saying, "A man is often required to take another wife."
"Required?" she asked in English.
"Áa, it is so. A man must be ready to go to war, for there are times when his family and his tribe need his strength. He might lose his life. If this man is killed and he has a wife and children, his brother is expected to take care of his widow and her children. Since my people have no slaves or servants as some of the white traders do, it is best that a man marry his brother's widow."
The lump in her throat became pronounced, but she swallowed it, knowing that, difficult though it was, she had to know more, even if the telling of it, in all its painful details, was heartbreaking.
While she was struggling to speak, he said in English, "Camp life...also give much work to woman. Man expected...take other wives so all work not fall...on...one woman. I...not want you...work too hard. Will take as...many wives as can, so...you not work hard."
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Once again, she felt out of her depth. Her head spun suddenly, and she found it impossible to think, let alone to envision what to say in response to him. But, she realized she had to put her feelings aside. Therefore, she switched to communicating in the language of gestures instead of English. At least, in this way, there would be no mistake about what she was asking.
She signed, "If you find your brother is no longer alive, will it be your duty to marry his widow?"
"Áa."
She started to tremble again, and her hands shook as she signed, "Is a woman in your tribe also allowed more than one husband?"
"I fear...not," he answered in English. "You...must be happy...with one. No need...woman marry more. Too much work." He added a smile to his words.
But, she was beyond looking upon this with any attempt at good humor. She stared at the ground, placing her arms around her midsection, as if in defense. Then, to be certain there was no mistake and she truly understood him, she asked again in sign, "You, the man I have married, could take another woman as your wife?"
"Áa," he said. Quickly, however, he switched to using sign language and said, "It is allowed and sometimes is expected. But, if I have to marry another, like my brother's widow, know I will still love only you."
"You would not make love to her?"
"Áa, I would for it is expected, but—"
"You would?"
"She would be...wife." It was all he said, but his silence about his "duties" to this other wife communicated what his lips did not.
Laylah let out a squeal, high-pitched and painful.
He heard it and signed, "I would think only of you, though, when I was with her. I do this because I love you."
She gasped and gazed down at the buffalo robe she sat on, then looked up and stared at the entrance to their lodge. She couldn't do this any longer. She couldn't talk to him about this. It was simply too heart-wrenching.
