Page 29 of The Last Warrior

When it was done, he took hold of the piece of buckskin and tied it first around her wrist, then his. When their two arms were fastened securely, he said, “A wedding requires a song, I think. I own such a song, and I will sing it to you, though I will change the words. In my song, I am going to thank the Creator for giving you to me. And I am going to ask Him to watch over you, over me and over our marriage. To make it strong.” He placed one arm over his chest as he spoke.

Suzette felt as though she had fallen into the moment. As the moon danced over his features, she couldn’t help but feel as though she were caught up in a fairy tale. He was superb, in body and in spirit. Her throat choked up on the enchantment that the two of them were creating. He truly meant to marry her, he honestly wanted to help her, and all without asking for a single thing in return.

It was the kind of gesture one might expect from a family member, but not necessarily from someone who was practically a stranger. And if he became a little dearer to her at this time and in this place, she might be forgiven. She stared up at him without saying a word, but on another level entirely she was attempting to memorize every tiny detail about him, if only to try to understand this man better.

And then he began to sing:

“Taku oci’ciyakin kte, I will tell you something.

Cica’nnigapi, I choose you.

Cajeciyata, I call thee by name,

Cica’nnigapi Suzette, Suzette, I choose you.

Heci’ciye, I say that to thee,

Cica’nnigapi Suzette, Suzette, I choose you.

Le anpe’tu kin cica’nnigapi, This day I choose you.

Cajeciyata, I call thee by name.

Toke’ Wak’antanka niya’waste ni, May God bless thee.

Cica’nnigapi Suzette, Suzette, I choose you.

Toke’ Wak’antanka niya’waste ni, May God bless thee.”

The song was in a minor key, although it ended in one that was major, and as his words and the melody enveloped her in a feeling of warmth, a few snowflakes fell down from the tree branches above them, reminding her that it was, after all, winter. It was a moment out of time.

She was afraid to move, lest she break the spell, this time was that magical. She was moved. She, who was accustomed to having men sing to her—for she made it her career—was yet touched.

True, there was no orchestra to accompany him, no chorus, no audience, save herself. No, indeed. The song was sung simply from one heart to another.

“And now it is your turn,” he said. “You sing to me whatever is in your heart, on this day when we have become one.”

Suzette opened her mouth to speak, but at first no sound would come forth. Clearing her throat, she was at last able to whisper, “Yes, I will sing, but…” Should she make the point? She hated to bring up a particular that might cause the mystique of their time together to vanish. Yet, she felt compelled to say what she must. “You do still understand that this is in name only?”

“Hau. This I understand.” He leaned toward her. “But…” he breathed against her ear, his words warm, “…if we are to say our vows before the Great Spirit, we should recite them with whatever is in our hearts. And if all you feel is the necessity to have my name, then you should sing of that, for you now have it.”

She nodded, feeling more than a little touched by this man. “I feel rather inadequate. You have been most eloquent and⁠—”

“Nothing is inadequate,” he responded. “Sing from your heart, for only in that way will it be pure.”

“Yes. All right.” Clearing her throat once again, she began to sing, using the same melody of his song—at least as much of it as she could remember. She sang in the same key with the same style as he had done, and these were her words:

“I thank this man who is showing me kindness.

I thank this man who has love in his heart and

I thank this man who gives without asking favor.

Great Spirit, bless him. Great Spirit, bless our marriage.

Though I seek only his name for the favor of my child,

In my heart I will never forget him, nor his kindness.