Brows drawn together, Swift Hawk drew his arms over his chest. “Why do you ask this ofme?”
“Because,” she said, “I cannot take my plea to Colonel Davenport, nor to any other person here, scout or soldier. Colonel Davenport would feel it his duty to turn us in, and I am afraid, quite frankly, to trust any other man—or woman—at this fort. A reward of five thousand dollars for our capture would be too much for a person to resist.”
Swift Hawk scowled. “But you feel that I would resist this?”
“You have already told me as much. Do you not remember telling me that you would not carry tales to Colonel Davenport? That your sense of honor would not allow it?”
Swift Hawk didn’t respond to the question. Instead, he seemed to draw inward. For her own part, Angelia didn’t dare break the silence, either, though she held her breath waiting for his answer.
At last, hardly able to bear the oppressive quiet any longer, she said, “I would not ask this of you if I weren’t prepared to exchange something with you.”
His gaze bored into hers. “And what have you to give me?”
She bit her lip. She didn’t have much to offer. Even she knew it was so. Perhaps Julian might?
Glancing toward her brother, Angelia realized she was in trouble. The only thing she could discern about Julian was his agitation as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, asthough he couldn’t wait to be gone. To add to the impression, Julian kept staring at the dancers off in the distance. Clearly his attention was not centered on this conversation, and if anything, he was here in body alone.
That left her to fend off the question, and the only thing she could give to Swift Hawk was…
“Knowledge,” she said.
“Knowledge?”
She nodded. “Yes, knowledge. Of the white man. Of the way he thinks, his schools, what he teaches. For instance, do you even know how to do this dance that they are doing?”
Swift Hawk frowned.
“I could teach you.”
“I have no need of the white man’s dance.”
“Then you’ll be missing out on a great deal of fun.”
“Fun? I have no need of the white man’s idea of fun, either.”
“I see.” Angelia could feel her face fall, but it was not within her to give up so easily. “You seem unusually critical of the white man, Mr. Hawk. Are you, perhaps, a spy?”
“Some of my people believe there is much about the white man to be critical of, and I am no spy.”
“But the folks here suspect most Indians, and most believe that the Indians are here only to spy. Besides, if you were such a person, you would hardly tell me, would you?”
The question went unanswered, and when he didn’t appear to have anything else to say on the matter, Angelia decided to take another tack. “There is a great deal more I could teach you. It might be worth your while to learn as much about the white man as you can, since he is moving into your territory farther and farther west with each passing year…and…”
Angelia stopped short. The man looked more like a boulder at the moment than flesh and blood. And he said, “I know as much about the white man as I care to know. I have learnedmuch about this already from William Bent, who is a trader at Bent’s Fort.”
“Yes,” said Angelia. “I see that he has taught you English very well. But has he shown you how to add and subtract a column of figures, so that you can tell if a white man or a trader is cheating you?”
Swift Hawk raised an eyebrow.
Angelia pressed her point. “These are the very things that could save your people from despair. Truly, it could free them.”
“These things could save my people?”
“They might.”
“Tell me how this could be.”
It was the one question Angelia was prepared to answer, since she had already put some thought into the subject, and leaning in close to him, she consciously shifted her weight, while her upper body swayed toward him. “By showing you how to read and the basics of simple arithmetic, I can teach you to understand the white man’s culture so that your people are not entrapped by it.”
