She nodded, then signed, "Please, before you leave to go with our ponies to the stream, let me tell you of my enormous gratitude to you. To say thank you seems hardly enough. You saved my life again." Then in English she added, "How am I ever to repay you?"
He frowned slightly before signing in return, "I do not understand your language, and so I am aware only of what you signed. Can you tell me what you said in English, but use the gesture language of the Plains?"
She nodded. "I love you," she signed simply.
"I know," he responded, grinning at her. "It is why you are now my almost sister."
She looked away from him, gathering her thoughts together because in order to think clearly, she required a moment of peace away from the terror they had fled. She knew she had to be completely truthful with this man; he deserved the raw facts of what exactly were her feelings. But, how to say what needed to be said?
Breathing in a few deep breaths for courage, she stared up at him, looking straight into his horrifying war-painted face. No wonder other men were afraid of this man when he appeared as he was now.
But, fear was not what she felt for Strikes Fast, though once she might have fainted at the dreadful sight of him. That, however, was in the past. He no longer terrified her, regardless of how formidable he looked.
Although she felt a little shy in taking the lead in this, her confession, there was no other way to respond to him except to utter the truth and from there let the future unfold as it would. Using gestures, she said, "Please understand. This is different from the first time I told you about my feelings for you. My love for you"—she gulped—"is as a woman who deeply loves a man. It is no longer the kind of love a woman feels toward an almost brother. I think I might have been in love with you in this way for a while, but…"
Chancing to look up at him, she continued, "Perhaps it took me leaving to realize it." Tears stung her eyes as she signed further, "But, because I was leaving this country, I came to understand by my actions that I would never see you again, and it was then when I knew I would never find happiness without you." She hiccupped before, in English, she whispered, "I love you," and then signed the same words. And, she threw herself into his arms.
They stood there, together, embraced, neither one moving, neither one saying a word to the other, though she could feel his breathing was heavy. Strangely, she was well aware of the sun shining down brightly upon her unbound hair. And then, as she looked up at him, he kissed her. She closed her eyes and shivered, thrilled because only hours ago she'd thought she would never see this man again.
He looked down upon her for a moment before, at last, he took her lips as though he were laying claim to her. It was thrilling; it was brilliant. The kiss between them was long and sensuous as his lips played with hers, and she rejoiced as the invigorating taste of him filled her senses. Over and over, he kissed her. On and on it went as his lips mated with hers.
But, it couldn't last forever, and he withdrew for a fraction of a moment, but then he kissed her again, his lips caressing hers as though he were paying tribute to her. And, despite where they were or the paint covering his face, and, regardless of the war party coming swiftly upon their trail, she surrendered to him.
Fire was racing over her nerve endings as she reached up to pull his face down even closer to her own. And, as a vulnerable place on her body suddenly ached for his touch, she stepped up so close to him she could feel his response to her even through the layers of clothing she wore.
She wanted more of this, and she was no longer ignorant of what this meant; she knew exactly what she was aching to receive from this man. It didn't matter to her that she could feel war paint upon her lips; indeed, it stimulated her because it was connected fully with this man whom she loved deeply.
So intense was this moment of coming together, the war party who meant to kill them momentarily slipped her mind. All she knew at this instant was the urgent need to have him close to her. It was like seeking and at last finding a bit of heaven. And, when his tongue entered her mouth to trace her teeth and play with her tongue, she thought she might faint from the pleasure exploding within her. It was as though he were making love to her by the simple act of a deep kiss.
As his breath filled her lungs, and because they stood so closely together, she noted his breathing was fast and heavy. At last, he ended the embrace and lifted his head, if only for a moment while he appeared to catch his breath. And, as he stared down deeply into her eyes, a grin pulled at his lips. One of his hands came up to wipe away the black paint covering her lips and chin as he said, merely, "Woman…mine," in English.
****
Backing up from her only enough so he could speak to her in sign, he said, "I want to love you. Now. Here. I feel you want this, too. But, the enemy is not far behind, and we cannot linger here, though we might wish to. Also, a storm comes. It will be here soon, and I do not believe we can escape it. There is no good hiding place here to set up a shelter that will not be found by our enemies. So, we must move along quickly. Maybe some good will come from the storm, though. Perhaps it will cover our trail and we will be free of our enemies at last."
"I understand," she signed. "But, a storm is coming this way? Are you certain? I see not a single cloud in the sky."
Aware of her innocence and lack of knowledge of the weather in his country, he merely looked down at her and smiled tolerantly before signing, "I know." Bringing her in close to him, he placed his chin upon the top of her head and breathed in deeply, memorizing the feel of her in his arms and the way she fit there so perfectly. Once again, he backed up slightly so he could use his hands to speak, and he signed, "You stay here. They will not see you in the place where you stand if they come upon us while I am watering the horses. Then, once our ponies have had a good drink, we must leave here quickly."
She nodded. "Yes, of course," she said, then she signed, "I understand. Where do we go?"
He pointed. "To the mountains. We will find many places to rest there…if we survive the war party and the storm which is approaching fast."
"But, if it's a mere rainstorm, surely survival should not be so difficult."
He sighed. If only it could be so easy. But, it wasn't; he knew it and he signed, "This is not a little rainstorm. This is a blizzard, and it is coming upon us fast."
"A blizzard at this time of year?"
"It is not uncommon in this country. The season of snows can come to this land early. And, these snowstorms can be so sudden a man can be caught in one unprepared…and we are unprepared."
"But, I don't see anything."
"I know you do not see it," he signed. "Still, it comes, and we must have shelter from it. We must hurry. Wait here."
****
They climbed out of the coulee by a northeastern route, one that was not made of shale nor was it slippery. Once again, Sharon sat behind her hero, her arms encircling his waist, and as soon as they reached the dry brown prairie, Strikes Fast set the horses again into a race over the open plains. Onward toward the mountains, they fled.
