CHAPTER NINE
Czanna paid heed to every little thing in the environment around her, vowing she would come to know as much about this northern land as she possibly could, given such short acquaintance with the prairie.
Before the sun had even risen up into the eastern sky, Stands Strong, with George's help, had navigated their wagon down a gentle slope, taking the wagon into a nearby coulee. There, the two of them had hidden the wagon amongst a grove of huge cottonwood and willow trees that grew up next to the shoreline of a swift mountain stream. The coulee was not as deep as it was wide, and it was hoped that the covering of the tall grasses and trees there would hide the wagon from the eyes of an enemy war party.
As Czanna kept pace alongside the wagon, she had to step up high in order to walk down into the coulee, so tall were the grasses leading down into it. Because she was also balancing her young sister, Briella, on her hip, it wasn't the easiest activity to perform.
Looking behind her, she saw Stands Strong's friend, First Rider, following them into the coulee, leading his horse and the travois behind him. Liliann was walking alongside the travois, her hand holding her father's, though the man had yet to regain consciousness.
Once at the bottom of the coulee, the two Indian men, along with George's help, raised up a temporary shelter for Mr. Henrik. In truth, Czanna was amazed at how little time it took to erect it.
Because the refuge was constructed with the wood, grasses, mud and bushes to hand, it took on the look of the environment and faded into it. Indeed, had she not known it was there, she would have overlooked it.
The structure was small and round, but was sufficiently large enough to allow Mr. Henrik to lie down full-length within it, and, being as wide as it was long, it allowed Liliann to remain with her father.
No sooner had the poles and branches for the shelter been put into place than the three men—she was beginning to think of her brother as a man instead of a boy—were strategically placing more branches, bushes, grasses and mud onto or next to the shelter, further deepening its disappearance into the environment.
The wagon was the last to require the men's attention, and they were soon maneuvering branches, bushes, grasses and mud on top of and down the sides of the wagon until its white covering no longer stood out like a beacon. But, would the white canvas ever come clean?
Soon Stands Strong approached her and whispered, "We may not speak openly in case there are enemy warriors nearby. You need to change your clothes if you are to accompany me this day."
"But, why?" she asked.
He smiled. "Your dress, though it is a dark blue, will stand out upon the prairie under the sun. And, its material will snag on the prairie grasses, the vines and bushes, and, besides giving an enemy a clue as to who you are, your dress alone could lead them to us. I fear you will be required to clothe yourself in buckskin if you are still desirous of coming with me. I have extra clothing. You may use it and may also cut it to fit you, if you wish."
"Well, although I am still…'desirous' of going with you, I do not like this idea. No men's clothing for me. I'd rather look like a woman, not some skinny man. Besides, I refuse to wear some poor animal's skin."
"I understand, but I must also advise you again to keep your voice to a whisper. Remember, we are not in a camp with many warriors to protect and keep you safe from enemies. Besides"—he grinned at her—"the manner of your clothing will not hide your feminine figure from me. But, if you do not wish to dress yourself in what clothing I have with me, you have my permission to stay here."
She frowned at him. Was he serious? Was she now required to dress so as to look like a shorter, skinnier version of him?
He was continuing to speak, and he said, "I go now to prepare my weapons, as well as food for us so we may scout ahead of the others. But, be quick to decide what you will do. Either you go with me or stay here. I care not which you choose to do." And, with these words, he grinned at her again, but his smile was lopsided, pulling up only one corner of his lips. To her chagrin, it caused him to look endearingly handsome.
"But, I protest!" she murmured. "Look how much taller you are than I am. Your clothing will not fit me. Indeed, do you not see how much longer your legs are than mine? Why, having to wear your leggings will cause the bottoms of them to drag over the ground, leaving a trail. Besides, I would be required to wear a breechcloth, as well as a shirt that will hang on me probably to my ankles."
"Do not worry," he soothed. "I will help you to cut the clothing to fit you, but if the shirt is big and falls well down your legs, you would not have to wear a breechcloth."
"Sir, I will not go naked under the clothing."
He smirked, looking much too highly amused. And, he said in a whisper, "I beg you, do not give me reason to imagine you naked." He laughed then. "Wear some of your own clothing beneath it if you must, but ensure you have the means to easily answer nature's call. We will be traveling as fast as we safely can, and there will not be the opportunity for you to remove your clothing in order to simply relieve nature's demand. Nor do Ithink you would be too willing to undress when I am watching you, which I would have to do if you insist on wearing clothing that cannot be easily taken off when your body requires this of you."
"Sir!" Though the word was said as softly as possible, it was still meant as a real objection.
"If you decide to accompany me, I will be over there." He pointed. "I have brought with me an extra pair of leggings and a shirt. We can fit them to you if you agree to learn to scout."
She let out her breath on a snort. However, after a moment, she said, "Very well. Lead the way, O master."
Again, he laughed, and when he said "That's better," she raised her chin into the air, earning herself another snicker from him.
****
The sun was high in the sky, and the deep blue above them was filled with cottony clouds. Those puffs were mostly a pearly white, Czanna observed, although a few of the cheerful white fluffs held a slightly gray color on their underside, threatening an afternoon shower. But, otherwise there was no hint of rain, the prairie air being clean and dry. The ground beneath them was hard, but at least it wasn't as muddy as it had been when they had been forced to wade through a small mountain stream. Also, and sadly, here on the high prairie above the Missouri River there were no trees to hide them properly.
Now since they had come closer to the springs, the land—and the requirement of remaining concealed—required them to twist in a rough and torturous manner over and through the long green grasses, the large bushes and the rocks—and to do it on their bellies and forearms.
So far, their journey had been agonizing for her. They had set out the previous evening, leaving when the stars had become visible in the night sky. Then they had traveled north and east toward the springs.
Although it had seemed to her as though they'd ridden too far and too fast on this unknown—to her—terrain, she hadn't been about to complain. Still, she had feared that at any moment her horse might step into a gopher hole or some other obstacle and she would be thrown from the saddle. Luckily, it hadn't happened.
