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Yet he could not allow her to see disappointment, nor his wounded pride.
And he would not give up on her all that easily, either. When she placed the demons of her past behind her he would be there to lead her into a wonderful future of happiness.
“Tell me about yourself, Dancing Cloud,” Lauralee quickly interjected, to change the subject back to something less personal, and hurtful. “I have always been fascinated by Indian culture.”
Dancing Cloud bit off a piece of cheese and washed it down with wine. He then shoved the wineglass and dish away and again relaxed on the blanket. As he talked he watched the fire-thrown shadows dance across Lauralee’s lovely face, wanting her no less now than before she had rejected his marriage proposal.
“My people are woodland people,” he said quickly, glad to enter into small talk with her. The more serious would have to wait again until another time. “We lead the hunter’s life and have always followed the path of peace. The Cherokee were never lawless savages as most have said.”
He paused, leaned over and shoved another log into the fire. “Long ago a solid silver pipe from George Washington was placed on the council table of the Cherokee,” he said thickly. “The same hand of Thomas Jefferson that wrote the Declaration of Independence also helped the Cherokee draft their early laws. The Cherokee takes pride in the knowledge that they are a people of respect and of law who understand when and how to use the respect in a lawful process.”
“If the Cherokee thought so much of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, why then did they choose to fight for the South, instead of the North?” Lauralee asked softly.
“My people met in council and made this decision as though we were all one mind and heart,” Dancing Cloud said, in his mind’s eye recalling the day that he had sat beside his father in council, his heart already knowing with whom be wanted to fight. With Boyd Johnston’s regiment. How could he choose differently? He had known Boyd since he was eight. He had looked to him as a second father figure.
“Was my father among those sitting in council?” Lauralee asked, recalling the very day her father had left to travel to the mountains to meet with Dancing Cloud’s chieftain father.
“Yes, Boyd was there. Your father explained many things while in council that day. We came to realize that we could not be sure how the North would treat our people during such a vicious war that had been started between the white people. The South had at least some feelings for the Cherokee’s way of life.”
He paused and inhaled a quavering breath, these remembrances of a time that had then seemed exciting, now like a hot brand upon his memory, so vividly remembering the bloody trail of the Civil War.
“Our people also knew that it was not a war fought for free soil or dignity of the farmer,” he then said. “It was fought for things only whites ever fight for—power and profit. The Cherokee did not want to see that gained at the expense of our people!”
He paused again, then said, “On October seven in the year 1861 a treaty was concluded by which all Cherokee cast their lot with the Confederacy,” he said softly. “The Cherokee nation always strives faithfully to uphold its treaty obligations.”
They had been so drawn together into conversation they had not noticed that the sky had lost its lustrous stars. Thunder trembled the ground beneath them and lurid streaks of lightning flashing across the dark heavens sent Lauralee and Dancing Cloud quickly to their feet.
With the help of Dancing Cloud, Lauralee soon had everything back in the wicker basket and secured at the back of the buggy.
Just as the heavens opened up, and the rain came down in a blinding rush, Dancing Cloud led Lauralee into a cave, two blankets thrown across one of his arms.
When he noticed that Lauralee was trembling he took one of the blankets and placed it around her shoulders.
“Where on earth did this storm come from?’” Lauralee asked, shivering. She peered through the sheet of rain and saw that the campfire had been quickly extinguished. “And what if it rains all night?”
Dancing Cloud lit a match and looked into the depths of the cave. He discovered that others had used it for lodging. A circle of rocks held within them a pile of cold, gray ash. Not far from where a campfire had been built, several logs had been stacked, unused.
“We shall make camp in the cave for the night,” Dancing Cloud said, already laying the logs on the circle of rocks. “When I first noticed the cave I thought it might be best to sleep there, anyhow. I had just not yet had the chance to tell you about it.”
Lauralee turned and looked warily around her, the campfire just now taking hold as the flames cast dancing shadows along the wall of the cave. “When I think of a cave, I think of bats,” she said, again shivering, not from the cold, but from the thoughts of a bat suddenly swooping down on her, tangling itself into her thick hair.
“Do not fear bats,” Dancing Cloud said, spreading the other blanket out beside the fire. “They fear humans. If there are any bats in this cave, they will stay hidden.”
Smiling weakly, Lauralee sat down on the blanket beside Dancing Cloud. She reached her hands over the fire and absorbed the warmth into her flesh. “Dancing Cloud, I have been wondering about something,” she said, glancing over at him.
“About what?” he said, nudging the blanket back into place on her shoulders when it began slipping down her arms.
“When you see poison ivy, why do you always address it as though it is your friend?”
Dancing Cloud chuckled. His eyes danced into hers. “In the old, innocent days of my youth, I was taught that poison ivy is feared by all Cherokee, and being polite to it is a way to conciliate it . . . to gain its goodwill,” he explained. “I have carried that teaching into my adult life. It is a habit I shall never break, it seems.”
A great crash of thunder and a fierce bolt of lightning that was so bright it lit up the entrance of the cave caused Lauralee to lurch with fright. When Dancing Cloud’s arm snaked around her shoulders, she tightened inside. She feared disappointing him again.
But a kiss? she wondered desperately to herself as his lips moved toward hers. What harm is there in just one little kiss? She so badly wanted to feel his lips upon hers again. He had such beautiful lips, so soft and gentle.
Dancing Cloud framed her face between his hands and gazed down at her. “O-ge-ye, my woman, allow my kissing you,” he said huskily. “Passion is not so much an emotion as it is a destiny. It is our destiny, o-ge-ye, to come together, as one.”
Lauralee’s heart pounded fiercely within her chest. Her throat was dry. Her knees were weak. She prayed to the good Lord that Dancing Cloud’s kiss would not once again bring horrid memories to destroy this moment.
