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“A naked tattooed lady?” Fire Thunder said, lifting an eyebrow. “So that is the type of performances that go on in carnival tents? It is best that I have never allowed my people to go to a carnival. The boys and young men would have an education they need not be taught.”
“Not all performances are . . . are bad,” Kaylene said, blushing. “Don’t you recall what I said about mine? How I performed with my panther? There is nothing at all naughty or immoral about that.”
“What is immoral is what happened to my sister, and the temptation that Good Bear could not say no to,” Fire Thunder grumbled.
He eased Little Sparrow from his arms. Just speaking about what had happened to Little Sparrow and Good Bear gave him cause to be angry all over again.
And although he wanted Kaylene to love him, he still had a lesson to teach her so that she would understand just how badly her father had treated his sister. Once she truly understood the depths of the humiliation, surely she would accept that her father was a wicked man and she would begin to see the rightness of Fire Thunder’s punishment.
Only then would she let down her guard and allow herself to feel that which she was now denying, her true feelings for Fire Thunder.
He spoke in sign language to Little Sparrow. He told her to go and get more food and hot tea from the woman in charge of preparing their food and drink today.
Little Sparrow nodded and left at a run.
Fire Thunder stared at Kaylene for a moment longer, then added dry sticks to the fire until bright flames leapt forward. “I am unmarried,” he murmured, going then to sit down beside her. “And since I am chief, the women of the village look after me and Little Sparrow. They not only feed us, they clean my lodge, sew our clothes, and bring fresh water and wood.”
“All that is missing is a harem of women living with you, responding to your every whim and desire,” Kaylene said sarcastically. “It’s the same, though, isn’t it? The women just don’t live with you.”
“These women do these things for me because they respect me as their chief,” Fire Thunder said, defensively.
“Those women are nothing more than slaves,” Kaylene said, lifting her chin. “But of course you wouldn’t admit it.”
Wishing that he could break down the spiteful wall that Kaylene again had built between them, Fire Thunder said nothing to this latest remark.
He gave her a quick, roaming glance, appreciating how beautiful she was in the clothes of his people. Even her hair. Although he most admired it when it was spread out fully across her shoulders, he liked the braid. It ma
de her look as though she was part Indian.
He only wished that she were. But it was obvious that she was born of the white culture. Her sharp tongue was proof enough.
Little Sparrow came back to the cabin and Running Fawn was with her. Little Sparrow carried a pot of hot tea. Running Fawn carried a large black pot which she placed on the tripod in the fireplace.
Fire Thunder eyed Running Fawn curiously. “Running Fawn, it is good to see you involved in things other than causing your father heartbreak,” he said sternly. “You have not often participated in bringing food to my lodge. Is my special guest the only reason you do this today? You are curious about her?”
“She is my friend,” Running Fawn said, kneeling down beside Kaylene. She brushed a stray lock of hair back from Kaylene’s eyes. “Are we not friends, Kaylene?”
Kaylene felt the angry eyes of Little Sparrow on her, and the inquisitive eyes of Fire Thunder. She hoped that in time Little Sparrow would accept that Kaylene wished to have Running Fawn’s friendship because she felt it might be useful.
Perhaps Running Fawn could help her escape.
It was obvious that Running Fawn often went against what was expected of her. Kaylene saw this as an advantage. When Kaylene was stronger and she saw the opportune time, she would put Running Fawn’s rebel personality to a true test . . . to a good use.
“I am glad to have Running Fawn’s friendship,” Kaylene said, then smiled at Little Sparrow. “And also your sister’s. I feel lucky that they wish to be my friends, when they could so easily see me as the enemy.”
Fire Thunder did not respond. He gave Running Fawn a mistrustful stare, then nodded toward the kitchen. “Running Fawn, if you wish to make yourself useful, get three bowls from the shelves and ladle stew into them,” he said flatly. “Make it four if you wish to eat with us.” He looked toward the door. “Would your father wish to share the evening meal with us?”
“He is with Good Bear’s people,” Running Fawn said, taking the bowls from the shelves. She grabbed wooden spoons and went back to the fireplace. Soon she had four bowls filled. Little Sparrow poured hot tea into wooden mugs.
They all sat in silence as they ate. Kaylene had eaten the corn gruel earlier, but only because she had been hungry. She had found it horrible. The stew was delicious in comparison.
“Fire Thunder, your rancheria is much larger than I would have imagined,” Kaylene said, between bites of stew and sips of tea. “So many of your people live the modern life of white people.”
“Do not call my village a rancheria,” Fire Thunder scolded, setting his empty bowl aside. “That is a name used by the Mexicans to denote our Indian village. The Kickapoo resent this name. It connotes a small group of humble Mexican jacales.”
“But I thought you were friends with the Mexicans,” Kaylene said, shoving her empty bowl away from her. “Why would you resent what they call your village? And I saw many jacales, Mexican huts, in your village. So why use them if you resent their use?”
“I allow my people to use whatever form of lodge they wish,” Fire Thunder said, rising to go and take a look outside when he heard a horse ride past his lodge.
