It was a bad way for a man to treat his woman—a kindhearted woman who had given him her trust. Although upon thinking this exact thought, Strikes Fast realized he had done worse to women, even to children in his past. He had killed them in mad rages of revenge. What was worse, he would forever carry those memories with him.
Which was crueler? Losing one's life or one's trust in another? Unfortunately, he had done both to others, even unto himself. This was why—though he was still young in the number of winters he had lived—he had little life left within him.
Shutting his eyes, he shook his head.
He would go to this bighearted woman, of course, although he might linger in the shadows and not announce himself to her; she might not wish to be with another human being at this moment. But, if danger presented itself to her, he would be there for her. He would watch over her in her grief, would even try to take some of it upon himself.
Was there a reason he would do this? Indeed, there was. He loved her and cared about her; he truly cared. Perhaps, after all, there might be a tiny spark of humanity left within him.
He sighed, and then, stepping forward, he left at once to follow her.
****
Sharon saw her elk-skin robe still slung over the back of the beautiful black-and-white-spotted Paint which Strikes Fast had recently given her, it being one of the two buffalo ponies he had won from the evil magician, Red Sky. Her pony was a mare, and Sharon had recently taken to calling her Black Slippers because of the black hair scattered above her pony's hooves.
Pacing up toward Black Slippers, she reached out to pet her pony's head, then, grabbing hold of the coverlet over Slippers' back, she drew it off and placed it over the ground.
"Good evening, Black Slippers," Sharon said to the animal as she began to rub the pony down. "Have you been wondering where I was and if I were going to leave you to bathe yourself tonight?"
With her hands, she began to rub and pick over the pony's short hair, running her hands up and down her mount's back, sides and legs, checking for burrs or barbs. Soon, she would take the animal to the river and, once there, would wash and brush the pony down properly.
She bent over and took hold of the rope she used as a halter, and, upon straightening up, she turned quickly and slammed straight into a man. It startled her so greatly, she let out a scream.
But, the man did nothing to harm her, and, when she gazed up into his face, she saw it was Strikes Fast. Calming down a little, she looked up into his eyes for a long moment, and, oddly, although she had only moments ago wished to be alone, she was glad Strikes Fast was here. Perhaps he might help to keep her mind off what she had seen this night, and also, maybe being with him might suppress the images of David holding another woman in his arms.
Gazing up at Strikes Fast, Sharon forgot her troubles for the space of a moment, if only because this man was so handsome. Oh, how the moonlight caused him to practically exude masculine beauty. Standing up straight and a head taller than she, Sharon couldn't remember ever being so taken by a man's good looks. Perhaps it was because of the moonlight.
It did bring the question again to mind: why was this man not claimed by some young woman? Here under the mist of an orangey-golden half-moon, he appeared more attractive than any man had a right to be.
He smiled at her, and she found herself gazing at his lips instead of his hands as he signed, "I will finish rubbing down your pony for you."
"What? Oh, my pony. Yes, I would appreciate your help," she returned in sign, but she said nothing. After a moment, however, she voiced in English, "Thank you."
She turned away, but instead of leaving, she walked around to the other side of the animal and signed, "I will rub down this side of my pony, if you might do the other."
He nodded, then signed, "Happy I will be to do the job entirely."
"I know," she replied, again with the hand signs. "Yet, I feel I should help you with it. After all, it's my responsibility to care for this beautiful animal, and I wouldn't wish you to think I would have another person take on a task which is rightfully mine."
He nodded again. But, he said nothing.
Quietly, she worked over the animal. Many moments passed before she signed, "I wish to take Slippers to the river"—she voiced her pony's name—"so I might ensure she has the sweat washed away from her."
Strikes Fast bobbed his head once. "If you do not object, I will go with you. Two more hands will make the work go quickly."
"True, true," she said in English, and, with the rope she used as reins, she began walking Black Slippers in the direction of the Missouri River. Strikes Fast kept pace with her, not striding ahead of her nor lingering behind her. She signed, "You may lead the way if you feel it improper to walk side by side with me."
"I am happy to go as we are," he signed.
Sharon nodded. And, as though by mutual agreement, they fell into silence. But, after they reached the river and as soon as Slippers was settled in the water, she asked her hero with gestures, "Why is there not a woman in your life?"
He didn't answer for many, many minutes, and Sharon didn't wish to press the point. Obviously, she had asked a question he did not wish to answer.
When even more time passed and still he hadn't answered, she voiced aloud, "Excuse me." Then, switching to sign, she said, "I do not mean to pry into your private life. Forgive me if I have touched on a matter you do not wish to speak to me about."
"You may ask me whatever you like and I will answer, but there are times when I must think about what my reply should be."
"Of course," she said, then she fell silent again.
