He shrugged, obviously reading her sign language from his peripheral vision because he was still looking forward. He signed, "Any true man would have done the same had he known of your problem."
It took Sharon several moments to analyze his hand movements, but at last she thought she understood them, and she said, "No, not every man would do as you did." She signed these words before continuing in sign, "For all my life, my heart will be filled with love for you for what you have done for me."
Sharon cringed a little. She hadn't really meant to say "love," but the signs for "love," "fond" and "admire" were the same.
Strikes Fast didn't respond except to tense his upper body. But, after a moment, he asked, "Do you truly mean what your hands have spoken to me? Did you intend to say you love me?"
Sharon gulped, but signed, "Yes, I did." But, this wasn't all; she went on to say, through signs, "How could I not love you? I am not certain I would still be alive and in this world if not for you. Of course, I would feel love for you within my heart."
"Áa," he said in Blackfeet, and it was a word Sharon understood, its meaning being "yes." But, he was continuing to speak and sign at the same time, and he said, "Now I understand. You love me as a friend would love another or as a sister would love her brother."
"Yes," she signed.
He nodded.
"But more," she added.
Again he tensed his shoulders. "What do you mean, 'more'?" he asked. "Are you not married to the white painter?"
"No, I am not yet married to him," she signed. "But, we soon hope to marry."
"'Not yet married'?" he replied with gestures as he looked over to her. "But, soon? How soon?"
"Perhaps," she signed, "within moments of us returning to the Pikuni encampment."
Strikes Fast nodded, then asked, "Do you love him?"
"I do love him," she answered simply.
"Humph!" Strikes Fast grumbled. Then he signed, "If you love him, as you say, what do you mean, then, saying 'more' when you speak of love to me?"
Whatdidshe mean?
It was a good, if direct, question, and Sharon bit her lip in thought before "speaking." At last, however, using simple gestures, even knowing some signs meant more than one word, she said, "I mean that you will forever hold a place within my heart as the man who saved my life. It is not the same sort of feeling a woman might feel in regards to a husband-to-be. Yet, though different, the love I feel for you, for your actions on my behalf, is intensely felt."
He nodded. Then he signed, "Indian men do not have women friends. Nor do Indian women have male friends. And, after a certain age, brothers and sisters are cautioned about what they might say to one another directly. This you should know."
"Oh. I think I understand," she said in gestures. She frowned and after a moment, she signed, "If not friends, then what shall we call our relationship? Because, you see, you are special to me. And, whether you want to be or not, you will always hold a place of honor within my heart."
Quickly, he jerked his head to the left. "You know nothing about me to call me your friend," he signed, his motions jagged, as if he "spoke" with great emotion. But, a little more calmly, he signed, "I think it is likely you will change your mind about me should you come to know me better."
"Perhaps you are right," she said with signs. "Yet, I know enough to realize you put your own life in danger so as to honor mine. And, for this I thank you and shall hold you within my heart for all my life."
He didn't respond in either words or signs to the speech she had so carefully rehearsed. At last, however, he signed, "I still do not understand your words. When you tell me you hold me in your heart, it makes me think you are speaking of me as you might a husband. Yet, you love and are bound to marry the white painter. Are white women allowed to marry more than one man?"
She coughed, almost choking. Casually, he looked sideways at her before asking in sign, "Are you well?"
"I am, thank you," she replied. She gulped, swallowing hard before responding to his question, and she signed, "No, I do not think of you as a husband, and white women are not allowed to marry more than one man. Forgive me if I have given you the impression that I might favor you in the way of a husband."
He nodded, then became silent.
"Mr. Strikes Fast," she said aloud, then switched to sign. "The only reason I have sought you out is to tell you how grateful I am for what you have done for me. But, please allow me to say that whatever you are or have been to other people means nothing to me. You will always be my hero." Her hands signed the words, but she added in English, "So there."
He didn't answer. Instead, he sat silently beside her. After a while, however, he both spoke and signed his words, and he said, "I would caution you about telling a man you love him because he might not understand and he might think you desire more from him than simply honoring him. But, in particular, I would caution you about me. I will tell you simply this: I have not been anybody's hero before you. Now, I say to you this truth about me: I have been the opposite."
Again it took her several moments to understand what he was saying with his hands. Oddly, as she studied the movement of his gestures, she saw his hands were large and tanned, his fingers were long and his nails were white and clean. For a moment, if only for a very short space of time, she wondered what it might feel like if he were to place his hands upon her. Several days ago he had held her hand, and it had seemed as natural as if they were fast friends.
She physically shook herself. What was she thinking?
