CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Czanna was watching her almost-mother when she became aware of the laughing of several children who were passing by her. Smiling, she watched them for a while. Then, she looked forward, espying Liliann, who was carrying Briella in a cradleboard—a gift from First Rider—on her back. Czanna couldn't help but notice Liliann was keeping her pace close to the speed of the wagon, and, since Czanna was walking behind the girl, she studied her almost-sister, noting Liliann's wavy, pale blonde hair was loose and was blowing in the slight wind.
How pretty, she thought, was her almost-sister. It was odd. Once, Stands Strong had commented upon Liliann's youthful beauty, and Czanna had felt a tinge of jealousy at the time.
She no longer thought this way. Basking in Stands Strong's love had brought about many pleasant changes within Czanna's nature, and she felt very much richer because of it.
Czanna wondered if Howling Wolf—one of the older Pikuni boys and a son of Eagle Heart and his wife, Laylah—was enjoying the task of driving the wagon. He had recently returned from a successful raid to regain stolen horses. But, at present, he appeared to be happy to assume the duty of driving the wagon, thus allowing Mr. Henrik to sit as comfortably as possible within the back of it.
Despite her earlier worries, Czanna had to admit the day had turned into a beautiful, sunshiny afternoon, the sun being bright and warm even though it was now the latter part of the afternoon.But, oh, how she yearned to have Stands Strong here beside her, and—
"Mistress, where be ye a goin'?"
Czanna looked up at Mr. Henrik, who was sitting upright in the back of the wagon. She smiled at him before replying, "We are accompanying the Indians to the main procession of the Blackfeet, where we hope to join them as they journey to Fort Benton. And, let me say again how happy I am to see you on the mend. I fear you have given us quite a scare."
"'Tis true, Mistress. 'Tis true. Me own daughter, who be walkin' there next to thee, was tellin' me how close I was to death's door, right enough. But, these here Indians…I owe me life to them and to thee. Ye did well to join up with 'em, Mistress. Ye did well. Thy father would be proud of thee, if'n he knew."
"Thank you, Mr. Henrik."
"It be true, Mistress," said Liliann as she kept pace beside Czanna. "Thine own father would be proud of thee."
"Proud!" shouted Briella, and then she giggled.
"Czanna!Almost-daughter!I have it!"
Czanna looked up to see her almost-mother hurrying toward them, the baby on her back laughing, perhaps because of all the jostling movement caused by the quickness of her mother's pace.
Czanna continued to watch as her almost-mother fell into step beside them and caught her breath. After a short pause, Sharon said, "I found it. I had placed the statue for safekeeping into a different bag because the bag contained a blanket which I thought would keep it from breaking."
"I am glad you have found it," said Czanna as she observed her almost-mother reach into the parfleche pouch over her shoulder, there to draw out a wooden object. The statue was painted white and was perhaps ten centimeters in height. Looking at it closely, Czanna could see it was the carved image of a white bear.
Czanna smiled. "My goodness! It is beautiful! If Stands Strong made this when he was only seven years old, he was then, and is still, an artist."
"Yes," agreed his almost-mother, Sharon. "He is an artist as well as being the best scout within our tribe."
"Yes," said Czanna. "I am aware he is a scout; it is good to know he is the best. He is trying to teach me how to do it, actually. And, though I think I understand a little of what a scout is, perhaps you might enlighten me about what the duties of a scout are?"
"Of course," answered Sharon. "But, did I hear you correctly? He is teaching you to scout?"
"Well, yes, but only because I have insisted on accompanying him when he goes on any of his excursions."
"You have?Really?"
Czanna cleared her throat. "Yes, but… It is a little complicated," she said. "I…I and my brother and sister are the last of our family, you see. We are fleeing from oppression in our homeland, and after I was informed of my mother's, my father's and my brother's deaths back in Hungary—and then there was Mr. Henrik, too, whom we thought might die… And then I met Stands Strong and he decided to help us because we would have obviously perished without his aid. You see, we come from an entirely different world than this one, and we found this land to be filled with all kinds of dangers we didn't understand, and I…well, after sustaining so many losses, I didn't wish to have Stands Strong leave us and perhaps to never come back. I…ah…I insisted on accompanying him wherever he were to go, to…ah…guard him, if you will."
Sharon laughed wholeheartedly before saying, "This must be a first for my almost-son, I am sure. No wonder he is so much in love with you."
Czanna felt the blood rushing to her face, and she looked away.
But, Sharon was continuing to speak and said, "Do not be embarrassed, please. I am sorry if I have caused you to feel uncomfortable. But, I thought you knew. When we saw him rescue your sister and when he looked at you across camp and was not able to take his eyes from you, and you were looking back at him, well, his love for you and yours for him was obvious to us all. And then, when you both left together, there was great happiness in our camp because, you see, he is very beloved to us all. And, we already love you as much as we do him."
Czanna's eyes teared as she gazed at her almost-mother. For a moment, she couldn't speak. But, in time she said, "Thank you. But, I should tell you I have never sewed a garment in my life, nor have I ever cooked a meal, nor kept house. I feel I should tell you I am quite ill-qualified for whatever is expected of an Indian man's wife. When I was growing up we had…we had…"
"Servants?"
"Yes, Almost-mother. Oh, is this correct? Should I call you Almost-mother?"
"Of course you can," said Sharon. "But, also addressing me as Sharon is very good, too. We women—we three who married into the tribe—call each other by name, although the Indians never do this. They address each other by whatever their relationship is, be it a cousin or a sister or some other relation. But, we three who knew the European world before this one address each other as we always have. It makes it easier."
