“Well, personally I think it is a silly one.”
“Silly?”
“Yes, silly. It means something without merit. In my opinion, this custom of yours—and I’m assuming it is a custom—does not allow for open communication between people who should be able to speak to one another aboutimportant matters.”
The man raised an eyebrow. With what appeared to be a minuscule degree of patience, he explained, “Perhaps in the long ago there was some danger that this custom cured.”
“Cured?” She shrugged. “Perhaps. But if there were a reason for it and it happened a very long time ago, you should not expect a woman of today to follow it, should you? I mean, after all, a person should not be required to live in some past time period and ignore the present, should she?”
“What did you say? Live in that time period?” The Indian paused, frowning, his attention pulled inward. “Perhaps you do not have to live in that long-ago period. But I…? I do.”
Angelia tilted her head as she stared up into this man’s unusual, although handsome features.What a peculiar thing for a person to say.Moreover, what a peculiar conversation to be holding at all. Still, she found herself responding. “You are truly an odd one, sir. But, the good Lord help me, I am beginning to be of the opinion that I can trust you.”
This seemed to please him, for a corner of his mouth lifted in what might be an attempt at a smile. “Haa’he, you can trust me.” As soon as the words were said, his gaze at her became serious. “But tell me, may I trust you?”
“Trust me?” She shrugged and moved her shoulders and hips in a way that she knew was a nervous gesture. “I suppose so,” she reflected, looking away from him. “As much as anyone else can.”
“Good.” He nodded. “E-peva’e, it is good.”
“Is it?” she countered. “Well, if it is good, then I suppose I should tell you that you are taking a chance in speaking with me as you are.”
One of his expressive eyebrows flicked upwards. “Am I?”
“Yes, you are. In my society, brothers and sisters may speak to one another in private. This is accepted. However, men who are not related to a woman should never be alone with that young woman for any length of time. Not without a chaperone.So I’m afraid that if you are caught speaking with me as you are, you might have some trouble pulled down on you.”
“Do you think I am the sort of man to avoid trouble?”
“I really wouldn’t know.” She smoothed a gloved hand down her dress, straightening imaginary wrinkles. “I, however, try to avoid trouble whenever I see it. So, in light of that, I must beg that you let me take my leave of you.”
Without awaiting his reaction, whether positive or negative, she turned and stepped away from him. Before she left him completely, she glanced over her shoulder and, pasting a smile on her face, asked, “What is your name?”
“A warrior does not speak his own name. To do so is a sign of disrespect.”
“Ah, I see.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Then you probably will not mind if I give you one?”
He shrugged.
She narrowed her brow as though she were in deep thought. “I think I shall call you Scowling Man, for you have certainly done your share of that today.”
He grinned. The man actually smiled at her. And then he said, “Swift Hawk. I am known as Swift Hawk.”
“Oh, really? Well, thank you. It’s been nice meeting you, Mister Hawk.” She hoisted her skirts up to her ankles in preparation to leave, but before she took a step forward, she gazed back at him. “Mister Swift Hawk, one more question, if I might?”
He nodded.
“What is it that you do here at the fort?”
“Do? Do you mean what service do I perform?”
She nodded.
“I scout,” he said simply, though there was a definite smile hovering across the fullness of his lips.
“You?” She turned slightly. “You scout?”
“Haa’he, yes.”
“And…you heard…Julian say that…” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Ah…have you…have you ever taught another how to scout?”
