"But, Father," pleaded Briella once more, "I do not need this advantage you believe you are giving me. To me, it is not an opportunity, as you put it, but rather, a curse. I love Red Fox and no other man, and I will love him for all my life."
"Yes, yes, my daughter, so you think now. But, you are only sixteen, and at such a young age, you can hardly know your own heart. There are other reasons why I have decided to do this, but I will not speak of them now. Simply know that I have made up my mind. With Frederic as your chaperone, I will give this advantage to you and will send you to New York City."
"No! Father, please, I beg you. Do not do this. Do not make me leave here. This is my home. And, this man is the man I love. It will not change."
"It will change. It can change."
Glancing askance, she watched as Red Fox gathered up the reins of his buffalo pony, and, turning away, he began to pace out onto the plains, where he had left his other ponies.
No, this cannot be.
"How could you do this to me, Father?" Briella shouted the accusation, and turning, she fled on foot toward Red Fox.
Catching up to him, she put her hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stop, and she uttered, "Let us run away and marry one another in the only other way possible. I will go with you this very moment."
Red Fox turned toward her and inhaled deeply. Without looking at her, he asked, "And, what about tomorrow?"
"I don't care about tomorrow. I will not leave here to go back East with my brother. I will not leave you."
Red Fox didn't say a word in reply to her for many moments. But, when he did at last speak up, his voice was quavering as he said, "It would be easier if I could do as my ancestors did long ago and simply steal you away, forcing yourfather to accept our decision. But, this isn't possible now. I know your father. I have worked for him and with him, and I have admired him. He is a friend to my people, and is one of us. Were it not so, I would take you with me now and the world around us would have to acknowledge our choice.
"But, you must remember this," continued Red Fox. "Your father has come to my tribe's defense many times when a white man's sheriff from Fort Benton has come to take one of our people. Your father is also my sister's father-in-law, linking your family to mine. Do I agree with him? Never! Must I meekly abide by his decision? No, I will not.
"However, I must think on this because what I do could cause hurt in my family and in yours. There will be another way, but I do not know what it is…yet. I will pray to Sun, the Creator, and I will envision a way for us to be together. Tomorrow, I will tell you what we will do. But, tonight I must pray and make a good sacrifice to the Creator. Can you allow me to do this?"
"I…I…of course can, and I will. But, I will see you tomorrow, will I not? Whether you have a plan or not, you will come to me tomorrow?"
"I will," he said. Then, he stated again, "I will."
But, whether Red Fox had come back to their ranch or not, she did not know. She had, instead, been whisked away in the early morning hours before the dawn of the next day, and she had been placed into Frederic's charge to be boarded upon a steamship heading east and south to St. Louis.
She'd had no chance to escape since the steamboat had set sail as soon as she had come on board. Then, once the ship had landed at the village of St. Louis, she, her brother and his family had made their way by carriage to New York. She had cried most of the way.
Of course, this journey had all been planned out and arranged in advance. Both her brother Frederic and her father were intent on "giving her the chance" her sister, Czanna, and her brother George had never had.
Little had her father, her mother and Frederic realized how Briella would be made to suffer in the East, being the butt of many jokes. She recalled it now: she had been an enigma to those New Yorkers she'd met. She had dressed differently than they, her upbringing being more cowgirl and Indian than what it might have been had she grown up in the East. She had spoken crudely and laughed loudly when other women were more discreet.
Why, she had even walked differently than they, her own gait mimicking one who had just dismounted from a horse.
Oh, Frederic had tried to give her lessons about the city's social graces. And, she couldn't count the number of days she'd been forced to walk with a book on her head. But, had all their work changed her?
Well, in the end, she supposed it was true that one could take a girl out of the West, but one could not take the West out of the girl.
But, over the period of a few years, she had been worn down, at least outwardly. She now spoke softly, walked with a grace that felt more like floating than simply placing one foot in front of the other. She could even now hold a tea cup on her knee without spilling the tea.
Yes, outwardly she had changed: she now wore the latest fashions, smiled with an elegance she little felt and allowed her hair to be pulled up into curls on top of her head, some of those curls falling down onto her shoulders. She spoke softly, she did not venture her opinions on important matters and in general she was bored beyond compare.
In truth, Frederic had known a slight bit of success in regards to her: after all, this morning she had donned her green and bone-white day dress with a slender dropped waist in front, so popular in the East at this time. And, at the back of the dress, as much as forty yards of the finest silk faille puffed out at the hips, the material trimmed in all manner of flounces gathered in back and at the sides of the gown, all of them in the latest shade of green silk. The material tied around her neck was a lightly colored blue-green silk to complement her dark, auburn hair.
But, the biggest problem she had encountered with all this kind of clothing was the tight corset she'd had to wear in order to present the slim image required for the fashion. While the corset was usually made of whale bone, she had insisted hers be made of leather, hoping the discomfort would be less.
But, it was still so tight, she could barely breathe.
She wore a small bonnet upon her head, made with the same green silk material as her dress. And, beneath her dress she wore a chemise, drawers and a special kind of petticoat, one allowing the back of the skirt to puff out by use of a bustle. The boots on her feet were high heeled, made of leather and squeezed her toes so greatly, she could barely walk. Indeed, she often wobbled as she tried to stroll as others did.
Yes, she had given in to the beauty of the dress and the hairstyles now popular in New York City. But—and this was probably why she had become the kind of person who was shunned by many—she would not under any circumstance give up wearing her holster and gun around her waist and hips.
She could have cared less that this "style" had caused a stir amongst the very rich and refined people of the city. And, since she hadn't come to New York City to impress people, she wouldn't give up what she considered to be a girl's right to self defense.
