The Indian shook his head disapprovingly. “It is a dishonor for you to do so. And you, who should know better. Why would you abuse him in such a way?”
“Abuse him?” Wide-eyed, Angelia could only stare at the man, hardly believing she was having this conversation. “Dishonor him? Of all the audacity, of all the poor manners…” She shot her nose into the air, but her shoulders jiggled. “And this, on top of Julian… Honestly, I don’t know how you men do it.”
The Indian raised a sardonic eyebrow.
“How do you manage to twist a simple conversation—and a private one at that, I might add—into some sort of dishonorable discourse? But I can tell you right now, Mister…Mister…ah, Indian, that I do not like your words, what you’re saying…or you, if you must know.” She settled back on her heels. “However…” she raised her hand to straighten her glove, “…whether you meant to do so or not, you have at least answered one of my questions. Perhaps you would respond in a like manner and answer my other inquiry…ah…sir.” She placed a sarcastic edge to the last word.
When the Indian did no more than stare back at her, his glance seeming to dance off the shape of her eyes, her nose, herlips, she swallowed hard. “My other question being this, of course: Did you hear what we were saying?”
The man paused, looking for all the world as if he were having difficulty reflecting upon that past moment. Then he said, “I did.”
“Ah, I see.” Dropping her voice, she observed, “Well,thisis a problem.” Without conscious thought, she brought a hand to her chest.
If the Indian were aware of her reaction, he did not comment on it. “I learned much from your conversation, also. I know you both have some trouble. Trouble enough that you would seek to leave here. And I must disagree with you and remind you that itisa dishonor to speak to your brother as you have done. After a certain age, a brother and a sister should not be allowed to converse with one another. They should show respect, yes, but never, not ever, should they speak openly to one another. And especially, a sister should not scold her brother.”
“Oh? What are you, sir, some sort of walking conscience, that you feel compelled to take me to task?”
“I do not know what this ‘conscience’ is,” he said. “But I do know that you should not be having words with me either, nor I with you, for in doing so, I bring you dishonor.”
“You do? And do I bring you dishonor by speaking to you?”
“I am already dishonored,” he replied. “There could be nothing you could do that would bring me more than that which I already have.”
“You are dishonored?”How strange. How very, very strange.
He nodded.
“What did you do?”
“It is not what I did, but rather what others did, those I represent.”
She gave him a quizzical look. “You are an odd one, I mustsay. Even for an Indian.”
The ghost of a smile appeared on this hard man’s face. “And do you know many Indians?”
“No,” she said, “you are the first.”
“Then perhaps I am not so strange as you might believe.”
“Perhaps. But do tell me, do you intend to carry tales to the colonel?”
“Carry tales?”
“Yes, do you intend to tell the colonel what you overheard my brother and myself saying?”
The Indian drew back, as though coming to his full height, and his mouth tightened. “Is it your intention to insult me?”
“No, I?—”
“Do I appear like a jealous wife? She who brings those around her nothing but the secrets and bad tidings of others?”
Angelia stared up at him. “I really wouldn’t know, seeing as how I don’t know you.” She looked away from him, but as she did so, another thought occurred to her, and she found herself glaring back at him. “While we’re on the subject, tell me please, why shouldn’t a brother and sister converse?”
If her question or her manner irritated the man, his glance at her did not show it, for his expression revealed nothing except perhaps a tiny bit of patience. “It is ill-mannered for a brother and a sister to speak directly. Young girls from good families do not do so.”
“My family is fine,” she defended. “And why, I wonder, would your people have such a custom?”
He shrugged.
