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He dropped my arm as if it burned his fingers, and it gave me pleasure to see the effort he made to control himself.
Without another word he turned on his heel and left me, leaving me to find my way back to the wickiup of Little Bird’s relatives by myself.
Nineteen
I have been accused at various times of being cold, ruthless, unfeeling, calculating. And perhaps I’ve been all these things. I remember the time, too, when I prided myself on the control I had over my emotions.
It has always made me furious to find myself caught up in a chain of circumstances over which I have no control, or to feel myself at another’s mercy. I was so angry that evening when Lucas Cord turned and walked away from me that I could almost feel my rage choke me.
And yet, before the night was over I had managed to calm myself sufficiently to become rather curious about the valley I was to be taken to, and the people who lived there.
The idea that I might marry Ramon Kordes was still preposterous, but it appeared as though I would have no choice but to meet him again. Very well, then, I told myself firmly. If he’s the gentleman they say he is, he will surely understand the awkwardness of the situation in which we have both been placed. When he realizes that I have no intention of being forced into a marriage of convenience, perhaps he will pave the way for my leaving. But what of Elena Kordes, of whom I’d heard so much? And what of Lucas?
He took pains to avoid me when the men took their evening meal. As usual they ate first, and the women waited patiently until the men had eaten their fill before they could begin.
I was surprised when just after we had eaten, the fat woman who had been in the shaman’s lodge came in and spoke in low tones to Little Bird’s mother. It turned out that the old man had decided to make our relationship public. As the daughter of his blood brother he felt some sense of paternal obligation toward me, and I must therefore sleep in his lodge and consider it my home as long as I remained in the ranchería.
Little Bird whispered to me that I was being shown great honor, and even her formidable-looking mother gave me a look of grudging respect
The old shaman, who was already lying wrapped in his blankets before the coals, raised himself on an elbow and gave me a nod of welcome.
“It is the custom for our young, unmarried women to sleep in the lodge of an older relative,” he said in his dry, papery voice. “Sleep well, my daughter.” I understood that there was to be no more talking tonight. The fat squaw, whose name, I was to discover later, was Falling Leaf, could speak no Spanish. She signaled to me with motions of her hands that I should prepare myself for sleeping, and showed me a place against the wall where a blanket had already been laid out for me.
I wondered, as I lay down obediently, whether the old man was protecting my reputation, or whether he was showing his grandson, in this subtle way, that I was no longer to be treated as a captive, but as an Apache virgin. What was my real position here? What would it be when we left to journey to the hidden valley?
My whole life had changed so much within the space of a few weeks that I could hardly believe all this was really happening to me. Tonight I could not fall asleep from sheer tiredness, as I had done on the nights past. My mind was full of questions to which I had no answers, and when I finally did fall asleep my dreams were frightening. I dreamed of pursuit across a desert where my feet kept sinking deeply into the sand and I could hear the thundering hoofbeats of my pursuers close behind me. I knew both fear and despair when I found myself at the edge of a very tall cliff, looking down into nothingness; and I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, ready to push me over…
I started up, sweat streaming down my face, but it was only the old woman, waking me. For a moment, reality appeared unreal. I felt stiff in every limp, as if I’d actually been running, the blood pounding in my ears.
The shaman slept. He was an old man, and liked to sleep late into the day, Little Bird told me later, at the stream. Sometimes his dreams foretold certain events; sometimes they held warnings. I wondered if my dreams had been meant to warn me of the dangers I was going into.
The feeling of foreboding I had awakened with seemed to grow stronger and stronger as the day passed slowly by. I was kept busy. I had already learned that the women in an Apache camp were always kept occupied with one task or another while the men, when they were not on raiding or hunting trips, sat in front of their brush dwellings and saw to their weapons or gossiped among each other like men everywhere.
Little Bird took me with her to gather roots and wild berries to prepare into a kind of paste for the journey. As we followed the course of the small stream she pointed out different kinds of edible plants, and some whose leaves had medicinal properties. This morning I noticed that her manner was much less reserved, and she chattered to me as if we were truly friends. Every now and then she would call me nidee, sister, and look at me shyly. And then I noticed, in spite of my preoccupation, that on the few occasions she mentioned the journey that lay ahead of us she would say: “When you go to the valley…” or “When you start out tomorrow…”
“But you are coming too, are you not?”
She gave me a startled, somewhat puzzled look. “I thought you had already been told. My father is old, and he asked my husband if I could remain in his lodge for a few days longer, so that he can continue to take delight in our children. My husband was kind enough to agree.”
It was my turn now to look startled. “But surely I’m not to be forced to travel alone with that man?”
“Oh, no!” Little Bird looked slightly reproachful. “My husband will be going too. It is a long time since he has seen his mother, and he says it is his duty. And three other warriors, for the hunting along the way. Two of them, who do not yet have children, will take their women along with them, to dress and cure the meat and pack the hides. You will not feel lonely, with two brothers to take care of you.”
“Brothers?” I stared at her uncomprehendingly, and she put her hand over her mouth, giggling shyly behind it.
“My mother told me, and my aunt, who is a widow and looks after the shaman, told her what he said. She says she heard your father and my husband’s grandfather talk of this long before you came to this land. Truly, nidee, if I had known you were to marry the younger brother of my husband, I would have made your arrival to the camp of our people a happier one. I am ashamed.”
“But I…” I looked into her concerned face and could not say what I had almost burst out with. She would not have understood, and my defiance would only upset her. I would save the scathing speeches I had stored up all day for Lucas Cord, when I next confronted him.
But I did not see Lucas at all that day. The women found tasks to keep me busy, and with a semblance of meekness I followed their laughing directions, although I seethed with anger inside when I found that I was expected to prepare his food for the journey as well, and wash his trail-grimed clothes. I beat them against a flat rock by the stream, following the example of the other women; and I did it with a vicious fury, hoping they would shred into tatters.
“Not so hard!” Little Bird protested, half-laughing.
“But what about me? He tore my other clothes off my back, and these garments are all I have. They’re filthy!”
She looked concerned. “I did not know, nidee. But your father the shaman will give you more. He is rich.”
“It’s not the same thing!” I protested.
