CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As Strikes Fast sat on the opposite side of the fire from his wife, he gazed at her with all the love and admiration in his heart, it was true, but, within his glance was also a great quantity of apprehension. All through the previous night, he had tried to envision how to begin to tell this woman what he must. However, even as tired as he'd been after their escape from the storm, he had tossed about, nightmares of his past consuming his dreams. These were not the dreams of medicine nor power, however. He knew the difference.
So frightening had the nightmares been, he had sat up in the middle of the night, jerking himself awake. What was he to do? How could he say to her what he had promised he would and expect her to still love him? Truly, not dying, not fighting, not even the Cree war party frightened him as much as sharing his secrets with this woman.
What would her response be? Would she tell him she could never remain married to the man she would soon discover him to be? Would she leave him? Would he then be alone…again?
Those deeds he had committed in his past he knew were wrong. Yet, he had considered himself to be well justified in seeking revenge, hadn't he? After all, the Pikuni had killed his entire family, with the exception of himself and his sister. They had also slaughtered the young woman he had once been pledged to marry.
But, his rage and his triumph at seeking his rightful revenge had taken a wrong path. Perhaps if he had known the specific men who had committed the murders, and maybe if he had sought out only those men, he wouldn't now be less than human.
The old Crow medicine man who had once been his teacher had warned him against taking any other lives than those who had committed the crime. Also, this same medicine man, Weasel Fighter, had gone on to instruct him in the proper way to seek war against the slayers of his family. Weasel Fighter had even carefully predicted what would happen to him spiritually were he to take innocent lives.
But, he hadn't listened.Éeh, yes, he had been young at the time; he had been alone and grieving. But, were these reasons enough to really justify his actions against others?
And, always there were the spirits of his dead relatives who, even to this very day, encouraged him to do more, to kill more. Additionally, the ghosts of the innocent lives he had destroyed sometimes haunted him.
Indeed, it was true; he was haunted…by the dead. Never did the images of his dead relatives and the innocent lives he had taken recede.
He had taken revenge too far, to the point where he no longer felt empathy for another. Didn't being human infer having or feeling humanity for others? And, except for the Pikuni brothers and the medicine man, Gray Falcon, he'd felt nothing for anyone, especially the Pikuni—no sympathy, no empathy, nothing—until this woman.
Why this woman?
He didn't know. Was it because she wasn't Pikuni?
Perhaps. But, she was white and he hated the white trappers almost as much as he did the Pikuni.
He sighed. It didn't matter anymore why he had fallen in love with her; it only mattered that hedidlove her.
And now, in an attempt to help her talk to him about her own troubles, he was committed to baring the worst of himself to her. Perhaps this was required of a husband. He didn't know. But, somewhere deep inside him, he had to find enough bravery to do it.
Nervous and fearful of her response to his confession, he hadn't slept but instead had arisen and had already attended to the care of the ponies. Happily, he had seen both his favorite mount and hers were faring well, even after such a hard ride the day before.
Strikes Fast had also bathed in an icy stream regardless of the snow, wind and bitter cold; this cleanliness was required of a real man regardless of weather, hot or cold. And, he had killed a deer who had wandered into this valley for the same reason as he: protection against the blizzard.
It was deer meat he would share with his new wife for their morning meal. It might even be a relief from the steady diet of the pemmican and dried buffalo meat he carried with him.
He knew the Cree war party was gone, even if only temporarily. At least in all his rage these past several years, the Creator hadn't taken away his ability to see into the environment, thus allowing him to behold that the Cree had turned back at the first threat of the blizzard. Hopefully, they had done more than simply sit out the blizzard; with a bit of luck, they had gone home.
For now, he and his woman were safe.
"Hmmm…" The soft purring sound originating from his wife grabbed his attention.
He stiffened. She was awakening. The time for baring his true character was fast approaching, and he felt as helpless as a babe.
She sat up and stretched, the deer-hide robe falling to her waist, exposing the top of her naked body to his lustful eyes. And, he did lust for her.
As her eyes met his, she said, "Good morning," and, although she spoke the words in English, he yet understood.
He grinned at her. "Éeh, yes," he said in Crow. Then he signed, "The morning is good. We are here, warm and safe, while a blizzard rages outside. Are you hungry?"
"I am," she returned in sign. "And, I see there is food roasting over the fire. It smells very good."
"It will still be some time before it is cooked enough to eat." He paused, then signed, "You are looking very beautiful this morning."
"I slept well." She grinned at him, and he wondered if, after hearing the truth about him, she would ever smile at him again. She continued, "You, however, look as though you did not sleep at all."
He merely nodded.
