"Ask Red Fox yourself," her father clipped. "I believe he might attend the dance tonight. And, it is I you should thank for extending an invitation to him. It was, after all, I who asked him to come here tonight, though your mother wrote the note."
"How kind of you!" Briella added with a good amount of sarcasm in the words.
"It was also I who had this ballroom built specifically for you and your new husband. I have envisioned the wedding taking place here."
How could he mention so glibly an event he knew would break her heart?
Briella had been at the point of tears, and with these last words from her father making it seem as if she were to blame for all the trouble in her heart, she burst into tears, and it was between sobs when she managed to ask, "How could you do this, say this to me, without any emotion whatsoever? You know I am in love with Red Fox, and I always will be."
"Enough!" said her father. "I do not wish to hear that man's name again in my home. If you wish to speak about him, you must do so somewhere else besides my home."
"It is my home, too, Father," Briella countered. "And, whether you wish it to be or not, I am in love with this man whose name you have this moment forbidden me to speak. He has saved my life on more than one occasion. And, only a few nights ago, he saved the lives of your own children and grandchildren. How can you be so unfeeling?"
"I am not unfeeling, and do not ever say this is so again! But, I will do my duty to you and see you properly married."
"Your duty? Do you know what I had to endure in that city of New York? But, I suppose you and Mother had no way of knowing how those people would look upon me, as though I were a cowgirl with no education. How they stared at me with so very much disdain. And yet, you can stand here before me and tell me how magnificent it was for you to have sent me there with the condition that I was not to return to my home unless I had agreed to an engagement with another. How could you?"
Her father nodded. "That will be all now. You have said enough on this matter. Go and change now for the celebration."
"I shall, Father. I shall. But, Papa, you should change, too. And, I do not mean your clothing."
Turning away, Briella fled from the ballroom, tears in her eyes. But, she would not let her father see how his words had hurt. Not ever.
****
Music flowed throughout the ballroom. As Briella stood at the entrance to the hall, she saw there were so many people in attendance here tonight, she wondered where they had all come from. Fort Benton, of course. For a moment, she had forgotten.
The steamship had pulled into the dock only a few days previous. Looking around, Briella saw there was such a mixtureof cultures in this one place, it was almost inconceivable how happily they all got along together. Why, over there were the factor and the engagées with their Indian wives. Most of them were dancing to the lively music of a polka at present.
There were gold-seekers and grubstakers here tonight, too. Had that been wise? But, most of those men were not dancing. Instead, her father had set up a fancy gambling casino for those unattached people. By her side was Maximillian, looking quite handsome in his striped black pants, his white shirt, black tie and his black waistcoat that fell to just above his knees. There was no hat upon his head, perhaps because this was to be an evening of dancing.
Much as she disliked him, she had to admit he was really quite handsome, with his dark-brown hair, tiger-brown eyes and his unusual handlebar mustache. His hair was cut close to his head, as was the fashion in the city of New York. His figure was tall and slim, and he might have been even more good-looking if it hadn't been for the disdain in the uptilt of his chin and the look in his eyes that spoke clearly of his loathing of these people and this far-western establishment. At present, Briella stood on his right side, her white-gloved hand placed lightly upon his arm.
The music changed from a lively polka to a waltz, and gently, Briella swayed in time to the music.
Turning toward her, Maximillian asked, "Shall we dance, my betrothed? We must not let this beautiful waltz play out so prettily without our dancing to it."
"Of course," Briella replied as she allowed Maximillian to take her hand, ignoring her father who looked upon the both of them with what appeared to be affection. Affection? More than likely, what she saw was his pleasure at seeing his own schemes come to pass.
"Might I ask you to remove your gun from around your waist as we dance, m'dear?"
Briella smiled up at Maximillian before saying, "In this far-western Indian country, where a war party might be hiding behind any bush or tree, is it not wise to be properly prepared to defend oneself and one's loved ones?"
"I wouldn't know, m'dear. But, surely this would not happen here tonight. There are guards all around your father's home."
"Have you never seen how an Indian conducts war?"
"I beg your pardon! Of course not!"
"Well then, if you don't know, let me tell you about how these warriors can get into a place with the greatest of ease, even one that is so very well guarded. And, if this be true, might I suggest you start wearing a firearm so you can defend the women in your life?"
Maximillian nodded diligently, apparently ignoring the word "women" instead of the singular word "woman." "I will consider it, madam. I will consider it."
He escorted her onto the dance floor, and soon they were gliding around it as though they had practiced this dance, which of course they had not done.
The waltz was keeping to a slow, three-quarter beat, making it easy for her to match her steps to his. “You look nice tonight," Maximillian said to her.
"Thank you, sir."
