Dega was impatient to catch up to Evelyn. A dutiful son would wait for his father and mother to finish their talk, but he slapped his horse’s legs and hurried off.
“Let us go,” Waku said, and followed him.
Reluctantly Tihi goaded her animal on. She was not in the best of spirits. The long ride to the prairie had given her a lot of time to think, and her thoughts ran in troubling channels. As grateful as she was to Nate and Winona King—and she was sincerely grateful—she was not so sure she liked the idea of her son taking their daughter for his wife. There was the issue of Dega leaving their lodge. She was certain Evelyn would insist on it. And their children; would they be raised in the Nansusequa way or the white way? No, the more Tihi considered it, the more convinced she became that her son should not marry Evelyn King.
A jab of her heels quickened her mount’s gait so that she passed her husband and her daughters and caught up to her eldest child. Dega was staring intently after Evelyn, so love-struck it would amuse her were the consequences not so serious.
“You would think she would wait for us.”
Dega had not looked around to see who had joined him. Now he did, and said with great admiration, “She is brave, is she not, Mother?”
Tihi chose her words with care. By no degree must she show disapproval. He might resent it. “Yes, Evelyn is brave. Brave is not always wise, though.”
“In what way?”
“Look at her. She must know you care for her, yet she rides into danger with no thought for your feelings.” Tihi smiled to blunt the blow.
“She thinks of all of us. Did you hear her about the war party?”
“I did. Which is why I would head west to the mountains. Instead, she takes us farther out into the prairie, farther from our valley, farther from safety.”
Dega glanced over his shoulder at his father and his sisters.
“I worry for Teni and Miki,” Tihi continued. “Remember what those white men almost did to Teni? A war party might do the same to them.”
“Nate King says that rarely happens.” But Dega was worried now, too.
“Rare does not mean never.”
“I would give my life to prevent that from happening to them.”
“You are a fine brother and son.” Tihi adopted a lighthearted air. “But listen to us. Criticizing Evelyn when, as you say, she is only concerned for our welfare. She is a dear girl.”
“Very dear.”
“Your father thought the same of me when he was courting me. It was different for us, though, since we were both Nansusequa.”
“Love is love,” Dega said.
It was the first time her son openly used that word in referring to Evelyn King. Tihi realized she was broaching the subject at just the right time. “There are different kinds of love, my son. There is the love we share for Manitoa and all Manitoa provides. There is the love of a father and a mother for their children, and the love between brothers and sisters. Then there is the special love between a man and a woman. When they are of the same people or from the same tribe, they have much in common and their love is that much stronger. When they are not, their love is less than it could be.”
“Less how, Mother?”
“The wife will want things her way, and the husband will want things his way. There are disagreements, arguments, fights.”
“Not if they get along well.”
“That is important, yes. But they cannot help being who they are. They cannot help how they were raised. They will not always agree, not as two people would who share the same beliefs.”
“So are you saying it is wrong for a man and a woman to became husband and wife if they do not have a lot in common?”
Tihi gave him her sweetest smile. “I would never say that, Son. It is for the man and the woman to decide. Do they live in harmony with each other, as the Nansusequa believe they should, or do they argue and fight over whose way is best?”
Dega had a lot to ponder. He was still pondering when cottonwoods framed the horizon. He called to Evelyn.
Evelyn heard him, but she didn’t slow. Since it was her idea to talk to the two warriors, she should take the risk of approaching them. She rode faster. As she entered the trees, she spied two horses. She plastered a smile of greeting on her face and made sure to point her rifle at the ground so the warriors wouldn’t get the wrong impression. She caught sight of the blue of a stream and heard the gurgling of water. Then she was in a clearing and saw a dead warrior on the ground in a pool of fresh blood and another warrior bound about the legs and a man who appeared to be a Negro or part Negro about to bash in the bound warrior’s head with the stock of his rifle.
All this Evelyn took in at a glance. If she was surprised, so were they. No one moved. She thrust out her Hawken and thumbed back the hammer. “Hold it right there!”
Plenty Elk was astonished that the white woman would come to his aid. Yet that appeared to be exactly what she was doing. He expected the black man to fight. Instead, Rubicon whirled and was in among the cottonwoods in several long bounds.
Evelyn could have shot him. A light squeeze of the trigger and he was dead. But she refused to take a life unless she had no recourse. The black man looked back as the underbrush swallowed him. He grinned, as if he found it amusing that she hadn’t done anything.
Dega arrived. He had seen the black man disappear into the vegetation, but he didn’t go after him. His concern was for the girl he cared for.
Evelyn dismounted and went to the bound warrior. Drawing her knife, she slashed the rope around his legs, then stepped back.
Plenty Elk had been dazed by his friend’s death. He had been dazed by the blow to his head. Now he was dazed again. He slowly sat up. “I do not know what to say.”
Evelyn had heard Arapaho spoken a few times at Bent’s Fort and elsewhere. It was unlike any other tongue. To confirm her hunch, she propped her rifle against her leg and signed, ‘Question. You Arapaho?’
There was no end to the shocks Plenty Elk was enduring. To be saved by a white woman was amazing enough. For her to know sign talk was beyond belief. He wondered if he was unconscious and dreaming. One glance at Wolf’s Tooth was enough to persuade him that it all was terribly real.
‘Question. You Arapaho?’ Evelyn signed again when she didn’t get an answer.
‘Yes.’
Waku and the rest of his family came hurrying through the trees and drew rein.
‘I called Blue Flower,’ Evelyn signed her Shoshone name. ‘Grizzly Killer my father. You know him?’
Suddenly Plenty Elk understood. Yes, he had heard of the white Shoshone. A fierce fighter, by some accounts. It was said the man had taken a Shoshone woman as his blanket warmer and her tribe had adopted him. ‘Question. Your mother Shoshone?’ He asked because the white girl did not look as if she had a drop of Indian blood in her veins.
‘Yes. My brother called Stalking Coyote. You know him?’
Plenty Elk had heard of her brother, too. Campfire stories had it that the brother was savage and had counted many coup. ‘Yes.’
Evelyn reckoned that her father’s and brother’s reputations would work in her favor. Few men would dare their wrath by harming her. ‘Question. Why your friend dead? Why black man try kill you?’
‘Scalp hunter,’ Plenty Elk signed.
Evelyn gave a start. If half the tales she’d heard about scalpers were true, her friends were in dire peril. ‘Question. How many scalp hunters? Where them now?’
Dega swung to the ground. He couldn’t talk with his fingers like they were doing. He must wait for Evelyn to tell him what was being said. In the meantime, he would show he was friendly.
Plenty Elk was about to tell her about the ordeal he had been through when the green-garbed young man with her came over and held out his hand. His natural reaction was to suspect a trick, but the man seemed sincere about helping him. He took hold and let the other pull him to his feet.