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Not wanting to get caught up in thoughts of Carole’s death, Leonida spun around and left the room. She turned and stared at the room that Sage had said would be theirs. Trevor slept in the room that had once been Pure Blossom’s.
She had been amazed to find a hogan with three rooms, yet she suspected that most important Navaho leaders had the same. Wondering about the room where the man she loved slept, she crept into it and stopped to stare down at the sleeping platform, much larger than in the other room. It was piled even higher with thick pelts.
Her heart seemed to skip a beat when she spotted the distinct impression of Sage’s body outlined in the pelts, where it had been pressed while he had last slept there. Her pulse racing, Leonida went to the sleeping platform and gently lay down on the very spot where her beloved had been. Strangely, she did not feel like an intruder. It was as though she truly belonged, had been there before in bed with him, sharing a wild splendor with him.
Closing her eyes, she envisioned Sage there with her now, feeling his hands on her breasts, warming them as he rolled his fingers over her nipples.
She did not have to concentrate hard to feel the passion of his kiss.
She felt the warmth of his embrace.
When she heard soft voices coming from the outer room, Leonida was jolted back to reality. Her face red with embarrassment over where her thoughts had taken her, Leonida sprang from the bed and walked cautiously to the outer room, then stopped, in awe of what she found.
Running her fingers through her hair, straightening it, she smiled awkwardly at two young braves who were pouring water into a copper tub they had brought for her.
“White woman take bath,” one of the youngsters said, smiling toothlessly up at Leonida, new teeth just barely showing at the base of his gums.
“Why, thank you,” Leonida said, dropping her hands to her sides. She leaned closer, questioning with her eyes the suds that were floating on the water.
“Yucca,” one of the braves said, as though having read her thoughts. “Suds from the yucca plant. It will make your hair and skin smell sweet and feel soft.”
“How nice,” Leonida said, smiling at the young man.
Then her eyes widened when a young maiden brought a lovely red velveteen skirt and a cotton blouse designed with stripes and zigzags into the hogan and laid them at her feet. She fled from the hogan without a glance up at Leonida.
“Sage,” one of the young braves said. “The water and clothes are gifts from Sage.”
Leonida blushed as the two boys smiled knowingly at her. These boys seemed to know that she was more to Sage than a mere stranger sharing his hogan and bed, she thought to herself. She wondered just how much he had told them, for the two youngsters giggled and whispered to each other as they made a quick exit, leaving her standing over the tub, staring blankly after them.
But the lure of the sudsy water, and the temptation of the fresh, clean clothes soon caused her to forget everything else. Finally a true bath again.
Hastily shedding her clothes, Leonida stepped gingerly into the tub and found it comfortably warm, surprised that those who had prepared the water for her had been thoughtful enough to warm it over the outdoor fire.
Sinking lower into the water, resting her head against the rounded edges of the tub, she sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the water and the soft suds against her flesh before actually bathing. No bath water had ever felt as good. Not even the water back at the fort into which she had poured full bottles of bubble bath.
This water seemed to mysteriously relax her tired and aching bones. The suds were making her skin so soft. Her hands slid effortlessly over her arms as she washed herself with them, and along the swells of her breasts.
Her skin now clean and satiny soft, she lowered her hair into the water and gave it a scrubbing.
Completely relaxed, and feeling sparkling clean, Leonida climbed from the water. Dripping wet, she looked around for a towel. Finding none, she backed close to the fire and began turning slowly around, letting the heat dry her.
Afterward, she lay on the mats beside the fire, not feeling it necessary to get dressed yet. Trevor was sound asleep. Sage was still in council. She was enjoying lying beside the fire, her hair spread out, drying. Slowly
her eyes drifted closed and she welcomed sleep as it came to her in gentle folds of black.
Then the sound of someone singing outside the hogan awakened her. She listened as several songs were sung by several different voices. She leaned up on an elbow with a start, recognizing the newest voice.
“Sage,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “My Lord, it’s Sage.” She listened intently, marveling again at how beautifully he sang, as she had before when he had sung over Carole’s grave.
Not wanting to take the time to dress but not wanting to miss seeing him as he was singing either, Leonida rose to her feet and looked around. There, a luxurious rabbit-fur blanket, woven from long strips of cottontail pelt.
Hurrying to it, she wrapped it around her shoulders, then crept outside. She stood in the shadows where no one could see her, yet she had a full view of those who were in council a few feet away, the huge bonfire lighting up their faces enough for her to find Sage among the warriors and elders.
She was finding out Sage’s true devotion to his horse, perhaps any mighty, powerful steed of the mountains, as he sang a Navaho song about horses.
Each warrior took his turn singing about that which was most important to him. Leonida listened raptly, seeing these men as gentle, even beautiful.
Her gaze locked on Sage, loving him so much it made a slow ache burn at the center of her desire for him. She wanted to beckon him to her, yet she did nothing to disturb these moments with his companions, which seemed to have so much meaning.
