"But, I do not believe he will be angry. Why would he care what I do when he has a mistress?"
"Because it matters to a man, even if he has twenty wives."
"Are you saying you would care if I have to marry him? That you would not want me then?"
He sighed. "I have already told you I understand why you did what you what you had to do. You had to discover a way to return here, and I admire your cleverness in forming this plan. But, since we are now married, no, I would not like you to take on another husband. And so, I think we should make our home away from your people and mine."
"Away from your people, too?"
"Áa."
"Why would we need to be away from your people? Why could we not live in your camp?"
"Because," said Red Fox, "word of where we are will reach your father and your older brother, and then there would be trouble. And so, we must leave here as quickly as we can and go, and I think we should journey at once to the Gros Ventre camp. We can both ride my horse. Now, come, we must dress quickly and leave here."
She sighed. "I would rather stay here for a while longer, please."
"I, too. But, we cannot."
"Why not? Just a little longer?"
"Again, we are close to your father's homestead. And, I think because your father does not know where you are, he will hire non-Indian scouts to find you, and in doing so, they will discover us. And, if they do, it will not go well for us, I think."
"But, my husband, I am not properly dressed to go anywhere. I cannot wear my pink evening gown in the woods or even on the prairie. Even I know that because it is a color rarely seen on the prairie, it would draw all eyes."
"This is true," he said, frowning. "I know. You may wear my shirt. It comes to my knees and so will cover you adequately, I believe."
"But, my husband," she persisted. "I wish to appear pretty in your eyes, and I fear your shirt will hide my figure from you."
He laughed. He couldn't help himself. "My woman, I know well what the shirt would hide. There is no need of you presenting your best appearance to me."
"Oh, you. You don't understand how important it is to a woman to appear pretty under all circumstances. And, I don't believe you when you say you don't care about my appearance. I think all men care how their woman looks." She sat for a moment in thought. "I suppose I could merely wear my chemise and petticoats."
"Beneath my shirt," he added. "But, come now, it matters not to me what you wear, whether you put on your pink dress or your underthings beneath my shirt. You will always be beautiful to me. But, we argue over a matter of little importance, I think."
"Red Fox, is there another reason why we must not live within your own band? Is there, by any chance, antagonism from your own people against me?"
He didn't answer. How could he? He did not wish to bring her pain.
"Is there?" she asked again.
At some length, he answered, "The massacre at the Marias is still felt keenly within the hearts of many of my people, and there are some who hate all white people now."
"Your mother and father, perhaps?"
Again, he remained silent.
"Red Fox? Are we to have to live elsewhere because your father and mother disapprove of me now because I am white?"
He fell back upon their bed of blankets and soft pine boughs, his arm over his forehead. But, he didn't answer her, at least not at once.
However, she deserved an answer. Still, how was he to tell her the truth without causing her upset? Didn't she claim to be as Pikuni as any other person in the tribe?
At last, he reached out to her, bringing his arm around her as he scooted her in close to him. Only then did he feel he could say to her what must be said.
And so he began, "My father's sister and all her children were killed at the Marias incident. Perhaps, knowing this, you might understand why my father might be against our marriage."
"His sister? And all her children? Oh no. I'm so sorry. Oh Red Fox, I did not know. How could I have not known?"
