CHAPTER SIX
The orange moon, only half full, was slowly rising in the night sky when their small party reached the Pikuni camp. Looking outward, Sharon felt momentarily enchanted. With the moon and the yellow-white stars overhead providing a misty light, the huge encampment looked more like an enchanted kingdom than the Indian village it was.
Because all three bands of the Blackfeet had gathered here to trade, the village extended for miles and miles around the fort. And, even though Sharon was well aware that each tepee was painted in different designs and colors, because of the light from the many evening fires within the lodges, the ground itself gave off a hazy glow.
As she breathed in the dry, evening air, Sharon felt as though she might be able to taste the meat roasting over the flames from each lodge. Later perhaps, she might have a little to eat before bed.
Dry though it was, the atmosphere felt warm and comforting even though the hour was late, and Sharon felt little need for a shawl. It seemed to her, however, as though the Blackfoot camp looked a little smaller now than it had been before her capture. Had some of the people left to go and prepare their winter encampment?
Glancing forward, she spared a brief glance at the upright brown logs that formed Fort McKenzie. But, her gaze quickly turned back toward the beauty of the many tepees pitched in front of the fort, as well as those trailing off into the distance.
What was strange, however, was the feeling sweeping over her at this moment, as though she belonged here. It was a sense of coming home she was experiencing, and she could little explain why she felt this way, even to herself.
Looking again forward, she saw the sand and clay bluffs, and, because their own color was an off-white shade, even they faintly mirrored the long stretch of the colorful tepees.
Had she ever seen a more beautiful sight?
She knew exactly where her own lodge was pitched, and she gazed there now. Once, the tepee had belonged to both her and Amelia. But, that had been before Amelia had married Gray Falcon. Now, because Amelia lived in Gray Falcon's lodge, Sharon had become the sole owner of the dwelling.
It was odd, this feeling of coming home, especially when the household in question was an Indian tepee. But, she couldn't deny the feeling of happiness flowing through her.
Perhaps her joyful feeling was because the tepee was now hers; she had never known a home of her own, much less owned one. Probably the orphanage was the closest resemblance to her having a home and a family, but it had never been hers. Even as she'd grown into a woman and had moved out of the orphanage, she had lived with others in a boarding house. Sadly, the others there had been strangers to her. Indeed, she had no memory of ever living in a real home.
Looking once again over the landscape of the Pikuni village, she brightened. As far as the eye could see were these conically-shaped colorful lodges. And, somewhere in the camp beat a drum, accompanied by low-pitched singing. How odd that these sights and sounds should uplift her spirits so much. Was it because of the various friendships she had made here? Was it because of Strikes Fast and his determination to make her part of his family?
Yes, but perhaps it was all of this and more.
She gazed again toward her tepee. Even more excitement bubbled up within her as she recalled her many dresses, as well as her toiletries, her ribbons and hats, her boots, her shoes and her stockings; they would all still be there, safely stored and awaiting her return. There, too, would be soap, towels and blankets—all her own. Oh, how good it would feel to bathe away the dust of the trail and to don herself in a different dress, stockings and shoes. Perhaps she might even tie a ribbon through her hair.
Strikes Fast stood beside her, and, turning toward him, she gave him her best and brightest smile. However, in return, he merely nodded, his own gaze outward; apparently he was enjoying the same beauty within the camp as she.
She reached out toward him and touched his sleeve, gaining his attention as he glanced down at her. Smiling happily up at him, she held out her pony's reins, giving them over to him. And, when he took them from her, she was still smiling as she signed, "Will you please ask one of the boys who looks after the horses to bathe and brush down my pony? Mr. Strikes Fast, I am so excited to be home. I must go there now."
He didn't say a word, but once again he nodded.
Briefly, Sharon turned toward her friends, and, smiling at them, raised her hand in farewell. She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she turned away and ran through the encampment toward her lodge, barely believing she was home at last. Her fast pace caused the warm air to move within her hair, giving her a sense of grounding and belonging.
And, then she saw it, there in the distance, sitting next to the lodges of her friends Amelia and Laylah. There was no light from a fire inside, but she hadn't expected one to be there. After all, it was her own lodge and she'd been gone from it for a while now.
Slowing her pace, she stepped right up to the tepee and threw back the entrance flap. Bending, she climbed inside, paced toward the women's side of the lodge and sat down. She was still smiling as she touched the warmth of the soft buckskin cloak beneath her fingers. Sweet Woman, Amelia and Laylah had helped her to tan and make this robe. Oddly, the work was a treasured memory.
Sharon breathed in deeply, her happiness deeply felt. But, after a moment, an unfamiliar scent tickled her nose. She made a face.
What was the odor? She frowned.
Why, it smelled as though there were unwashed bodies within her lodge. But, it could not be. Indians did not take what was not theirs, nor did they enter into a home which was not their own—at least not without permission.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she glanced around the lodge, and, as she did so, her smile faded as she caught movement directly across from her. What was it? Surely it wasn't an animal, was it?
Should she stand up and leave as swiftly as possible? Or would it be better if she remained here until she knew more exactly what had housed itself in her lodge?
Without consciously willing the thought, she found she was wishing for Strikes Fast's company. He would know what to do. But, she knew he wouldn't have followed her here; he would not intrude upon her privacy. Since he wasn't here, however, she knew she had better do something.
Then came the sound, bringing with it immediate confusion: it was a high-pitched giggle. There was also an answering masculine chuckle.
At least it wasn't a beast, but what were a woman and a man doing in her lodge? The answer came to her at once, and it wasn't pleasant.
Should she speak? Surely, they would have heard her enter, wouldn't they? Or were they, even now, engaged in—
