She didn't answer. Instead, clenching her jaw, she stared away from him.
"You would...die here. Not let you die. Now...must erase tracks. You...stay here," he said unnecessarily, since she could do little else.
She didn't utter another word to him, however, and soon, with both human and pony footprints dusted from the face of the earth, he trod back in the direction of the horses. She didn't even glance at him.
He easily jumped up onto his own pony, straddling it, and, reaching out, took hold of the rope tied to her horse's reins. His only words to her were, "We go to...Beartooth Mountains. Not far."
****
THE SUN WAS HIGH OVERHEADand felt warm on the top of her head as they slowly forged through the wild, unmarked paths of this beautiful valley, leaving behind their honeymoon spot and, seemingly, their happiness. Only a few weeks ago, they had ridden hard and fast to get to this valley, yet Eagle Heart was keeping the pace slow in leaving it. Was this because there was no path through the grasses, the weeds and the flowers? Or was it because they were still in Crow Country and were traveling during the day? Perhaps it was both.
But, though the different kinds of grasses and the flowers grew to a man's height, and, though the flower stalks often caught on her skirt, it was not a great inconvenience. Indeed, their lack of speed gave her occasion to let her thoughts drift.
On one hand, she was glad Eagle Heart was insisting she accompany him, because without him she would die here. On the other hand, the mere thought that he might desire or be required to take another wife made her wish to be away from him, or perhaps to hit out at him.
She hadn't done that, and the reason had most likely been because she had been so shocked she'd barely been able to talk to him, let alone acquire the energy to declare war against him. But, the biggest problem about his attitude of taking more wives was that she understood him. She didn't like it, and she couldn't live with it, but she did understand.
This was the way he had been raised. These were his mores. She wasn't going to change them by arguing with him.
Indeed, if his ideas about acquiring multiple wives were so deeply entrenched within his mind, she might never be able to change it. And, if she couldn't change his considerations, it was better that she cut her ties to him now.
She inhaled deeply, and the sweet perfume of the flowers acted like a balm for her scarred heart. Yet, there was another smell here, and it was not so sweet. Along with the fragrance of the flowers was the pungent scent of the mud and the tall grasses. And, as it stung her nostrils, it reminded her again of the smack of his betrayal.
But, was that fair? He hadn't really betrayed her, at least not yet. What he didn't know is she did not intend to stay around and wait for his eventual unfaithfulness. He had warned her of his intentions...good. Now it was her duty to leave him.
She had heard him say they were traveling toward the Beartooth Mountains, and she wondered where the mountain range was. Its name brought on visions of stark, sharp cliffs and little vegetation, and, if the place were named correctly, it was bound to be a hard, rough journey, especially because both her feet and hands were tied.
Still, despite this, she might have tried to turn her mare around and leave this man. But, he was keeping hold of the rope tied to the reins of her pony, and this alone caused her to have to follow along behind him. Indeed, it seemed there was no escape for her, and, because his strength was naturally stronger than hers, she could not physically fight her way out of this...except perhaps by the use of her tongue.
Oh, how she wished she didn't love him so much. But, she did, and she knew, despite all the reasons why she shouldn't, she would love him until the day she died.
Still, as soon as she could, she would break free from him. Love him, she did, but living with him...and other women...would be impossible, not to mention demoralizing.
For now, she was doomed to follow him...or was she? What if she...? Unexpectedly, an idea formed within her mind, and, finding her voice, she called out, "I'm thirsty."
He didn't answer. Nor did he turn around.
"Excuse me, but did you hear me? I'm thirsty."
"Not breaking," he answered. "Water...in pouch on horse. You...drink it."
"I can't reach it. Surely you remember my hands are tied."
He didn't answer.
"Mr. Eagle Heart, look to our left," she cried. "We seem to be following this river. Surely, it wouldn't be too hard to lead our horses down to it where we might all have a good drink."
"Not enough...cover. Later."
"But—"
"Later."
Looking forward, she frowned at him as he led their mounts through what was clearly no trail. Interestingly, she had never seen him so well armed. Indeed, he looked like a human arsenal. What must have been a long rifle, covered in a beautifully beaded and long sheath, hung from a rope on his horse. His lance was similarly secured. There were two flintlock guns casually stuffed into his belt, and upon his back was his quiver full of arrows, his bow slung over his arm.
Every so often, she would catch sight of the sash that contained his ammunition, for he was no longer carrying it upon his person. Instead, he had secured it on his horse in front of him.
Obviously, he expected trouble from an enemy. What he hadn't prepared for, she hoped, and what he was going to get, was trouble from her. She was not about to meekly follow him.
