“Do you want her as your son’s wife?”
“Why do you ask such a thing? Now, of all times?”
“The others will not hear us if we talk quietly.”
“That is not what I meant.” Waku would rather talk about it in the privacy of their lodge than out here on the prairie when he was trying to find buffalo.
“It will not be long, I tell you, before he decides to court her. Given how she feels about him, we have important decisions to make.”
Resigned to the inevitable, Waku asked, “How do you know how she feels? Has she told you?”
“She does not need to. Do you think she came with us because she likes to butcher buffalo? No, she came to be with Dega. Have you not noticed that she spends every moment in his company? She cares for him, Waku. He cares for her. Are you ready to lose him?”
“If they marry, we do not lose a son. We gain a daughter,” Waku said.
“Must I explain everything?” Tihi let out another sigh. “What is the Nansusequa custom when a young man and a young woman bind hearts?”
“The woman comes to live in the lodge of the man and his parents,” Waku answered.
“What is the white custom?”
“Eh?”
“Blue Water Woman is a Flathead, is she not? She took Shakespeare McNair as her man and lives in his lodge.”
“Yes. So?”
“Winona is a Shoshone. She took Nate King for a husband. Do they live in a lodge with her people or do they live in Nate’s lodge far from the Shoshones?”
“They live in his lodge, but—”
“Zachary King has married a white woman, Louisa. Do they live in the same lodge as Nate and Winona or do they have a lodge of their own?”
“They have their own lodge.” Waku saw what she was getting at, and it troubled him.
“What makes you think Evelyn will be different? What makes you think she will come live with us? I suspect she will want to do as her parents and her brother and live in a lodge of her own.”
Waku had looked forward to one day having his grown children and their families share his lodge. That had been the Nansusequa way since there were Nansusequa. It was why they built their lodges so large. Two or three or sometimes four generations all lived in the same dwelling, all devoted to one another, the old imparting their wisdom to the young, the young looking after the old when the old could no longer look after themselves.
Tihi had gone on. “I have something else for you to think about. We are the last of our kind. None of the other tribes live as we did. When our daughters grow of age and take husbands, they will probably go live with their men. We will be alone with no one to look after us.”
Deep sorrow came over Waku. It was bad enough to be the last of the Nansusequa. To think that when he and his wife died, the Nansusequa way of life died with them—forever—was a sadness that surpassed all others.
“We cannot blame our children,” Tihi said.
“We can’t?”
“What else are they to do? With all our people slain they must look for mates elsewhere.”
Waku’s mood turned bitter. Usually he tried not to think of the fate of their people; it depressed him too much. So long as he focused on his family and what he could do to make their lives happier, he kept the sadness at bay.
Shaking himself, Waku straightened. Time enough later to ponder the future, he told himself. At the moment he was after buffalo. The stick figures had disappeared while he was talking to Tihi. He continued in that direction, hoping that whatever they were they hadn’t gone far.
The vastness of the prairie staggered him.
All his life, Waku lived in the deep woods. The forest nurtured him. Its bounty enabled his people to thrive. It was everything; sanctuary, provider, mother. He’d never imagined a world with no forest, never conceived there was a sea of grass to rival the sea of trees.
Waku liked the mountains more than the plain. The mountains had their meadows and glades and clearings, but in many respects the high timber reminded him of the woods he had forsaken when he and his family fled.
“Waku?” Tihi said.
“I do not care to hear any more about Dega and Evelyn.”
Tihi pointed. “What are those?”
Squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun, Waku spied more stick figures. These were to the north and moving south. They were moving fast and if they kept on would pass within a few arrow flights in front of them.
“Men on horses.”
Waku had come to the same conclusion. Two riders, racing across the prairie as if their lives depended on it. He drew rein. “Everyone look there!” he shouted, in both Nansusequa and English.
Evelyn was debating the best way to ask Dega if there had ever been a girl he was particularly fond of. Twisting, she rose in the stirrups. “Warriors! I can’t tell the tribe yet.”
“They in hurry,” Dega said.
Too much of a hurry, Evelyn thought. The pair were riding like the wind—or as if they were being pursued. She didn’t see anyone else. “We should talk to them.”
“Is that wise?” Waku asked. “Maybe they are our enemies.”
“If there’s a war party hereabouts, we need to find out.” Evelyn checked that her Hawken and her pistols were loaded.
“One man is bent over,” Waku mentioned.
Evelyn had noticed that, too. It looked as though he was hurt. The other warrior stayed at his side and reached out to him from time to time.
The pair changed direction, reining to the southeast, away from Waku and his family.
“They have seen us.”
“Come on,” Evelyn urged. The mare had been held to a walk for so long that she was eager to let herself go.
“Wait!” Waku cried. He was worried that if anything happened to her, Nate King would blame him. Slapping his legs against his mount, he hastened after her. He had little chance of catching up. She had been riding since she was old enough to sit a horse; he’d only learned to ride recently.
“Evelyn!” Dega shouted, and gave chase. Her impulsive nature bothered him. She was constantly taking him by surprise.
Evelyn paid them no mind. She wasn’t near enough to the two warriors to be in any danger. The wind whipping her hair, she urged the mare to go faster.
The warrior who appeared to be hurt caught sight of her and yelled to the other one.
Waving her rifle, Evelyn yelled at the top of her lungs, “Friend! I’m a friend!” She did the same in Shoshone and in Crow.
The pair were flying. If they understood her, they gave no indication.
Evelyn knew she should stop, but she kept going. Call it stubbornness. Call it curiosity. She wanted to talk to them, by sign language if no other way. She was aware of Dega thundering behind her and the rest of the family strung out after him.
The warrior who was bent over his horse seemed to be clinging on for dear life. The other warrior swiveled at the hips and raised both arms as if in supplication.
Puzzled, Evelyn waved. She realized the second warrior was holding something.
“Stop!” Dega frantically yelled.
Evelyn never had liked being told what to do.
“You must stop!”
A sharp retort was on the tip of Evelyn’s tongue, but it died as it hit her exactly was the second warrior was doing. She glanced skyward and her skin crawled at the sight of a glittering shaft arcing out of the sky toward her.
“Evelyn!” Dega cried.
Evelyn had heartbeats in which to react. With a silent prayer she wrenched on the reins.
Chapter Five
Plenty Elk swiftly notched another arrow to his bowstring, but the young white woman drew rein when his arrow imbedded itself in the dirt near her horse. Those with her also stopped. He felt safe in lowering his bow and shoving the arrow back into his quiver.