Black Eagle (34 page)

“The harvest is done, and since we have more than enough food to last us through the winter, most of my work is over. I have little to do but to wait for the Harvest Festival.”

“The Harvest Festival. Yes, I've heard others talking about it. What happens at the Harvest Festival?”

“You will like it. It is the time when we thank the ‘three sisters,' corn, squash and beans. During the day, many of our wisest men will give speeches of thanksgiving. And at night, there will be dances and games. Few people sleep, for the fun goes on the night through. Truly, you will like it.”

“I'm sure that I will,” said Marisa. “Is there anything special I should do for it?”

“You can help with the food preparation. There will be much feasting. And at night, you can wear your best dress. The evenings are when lovers meet and plan their futures.”

“Ah, but I already spend most evenings with my husband.”

“Yes, but you will still need a special dress. I will help you with that.”

“That would be most pleasing,” said Marisa, falling into step with Laughing Maid.

As the two women approached the village, they were met by Pretty Ribbon, who came immediately to Marisa's side and took her hand.

“Sister,” said Pretty Ribbon, “I made this for you.” The little girl presented Marisa with a bouquet of wild flowers, tied together with a piece of bark.

“Oh, they're beautiful,” said Marisa, and she bent down to give the little girl a hug and kiss. “How lucky I am that you are my sister.” She hugged her tightly.

Under the compliment, Pretty Ribbon beamed. “The clan mother says that if I ask you, I might be able to try on your white man's clothes. Then we can see how I might look if I were a white person.”

“Ah,” said Marisa, “but you have no need to be a white person. You are perfect exactly as you are.” Oddly enough, Marisa meant it. It had been a little over four weeks now that she had been adopted into the Mohawk tribe, and Marisa would have been hard-pressed to recall a happier time in her life.

Although it was true that an Indian woman's work was hard and constant, it was never daunting. One was not harassed to do more than she could easily do, and there were always helping hands if one fell behind. To add to her pleasure, however, Pretty Ribbon had become Marisa's almost constant companion, and oddly enough it was the little girl who had helped Marisa to learn the language.

“I would still like to try them on,” said Pretty Ribbon.

“And so you shall,” said Marisa. “Come, let us return home. I am told that my husband is back from hunting and that he has brought in even more deer meat.”

“He has,” said Pretty Ribbon. “Can I help you to feed him?”

“Of course you can. Come, let's hurry.” And Marisa, taking both of her sister's hands, said, “Do you want to race?”

Laughing Maid grinned, but Pretty Ribbon wasn't too keen. She said, “I am too little. I always lose.”

“Yes,” said Laughing Maid, “but look at how hard you try. You are faster than any of the other girls your age.”

“I am? ”

“
Nyoh.
Yes, you are.”

That decided it. “Then let us race,” said Pretty Ribbon. Smiling up at her two sisters, she said, “Go!”

And with much laughing, the three sisters flew on home, and surprisingly enough, Pretty Ribbon won.

 

 

Was she happy?

As Black Eagle stood next to his fellow runners on the race track, he chanced to look toward the sidelines of the track, catching his wife's eye. He witnessed her smile, and he returned it, watching her even when she glanced away.

She seemed happy, he thought, but he was aware that his village provided a life greatly different than what her own had been. Could she be content here with him? Without all the material wealth to which she was accustomed? Or would there come a time when she would yearn for the company of her own people? Material things?

He wished desperately that he had been able to find and save Miss Sarah from the falls. Her loss had come at a bad time, not only because she had earned his respect, but because she deserved better than to die at the hands of a traitor.

That she would have provided good company for his wife was also good reason to lament her loss. Hopefully his wife's new sister, Laughing Maid, would render companionship for
Ahweyoh
, as well. That Pretty Ribbon was enamored with her new sister was also evident. The child rarely left
Ahweyoh
's side.

Nonetheless, he worried. Was it enough? He hoped so.

Bringing his attention back to the present, he noticed that
Ahweyoh
had raised up her glance to meet his, and that she was now staring back at him with such blatant seduction that Black Eagle was stunned at first, yet responded, as any healthy male might . . . and instantly. His loins stirred to life, reminding him that he had the entire evening to hold his wife in his arms, if he wished to wait that long.

However, this was not a good thought to recall at the start of a footrace. He needed his wits about him if he were to win this race. And it was important that he win. After all, his family had placed bets on his success.

Shaking his head, he turned around, presenting the people on the sidelines with his back, as he endeavored to calm his body and bring his attention back to the matter at hand. The fields had been cleared for the race. Later, the same ground would be used in the game of lacrosse. He would be involved in that game, too.

But for now, he had to concentrate. He wished to win this race, not only for himself and his reputation, but also to impress his wife. He sighed. She seemed to always be in his thoughts.

 

 

It was the second day of the Harvest Festival, the first day having been rained out. Today, however, had dawned a warm, clear and bright day.

Marisa stood on the outskirts of the footrace. Black Eagle was there, stripped down of all his clothes, save his breechcloth and moccasins, as were all of the participants. But none looked better, sexier or stronger than Black Eagle. Indeed, when he caught her eye, she smiled, then looked down, feeling self-conscious. But why?

After several weeks of being in the camp, she had observed a certain independence in the Mohawk women. They were not a timid people, nor were they cowed by their men or subservient to them. While never encroaching on a man's realm, nor detracting from his natural strength or power, the women yet retained much strength of their own.

Perhaps she had some of that grit, too. Setting her shoulders back, she brushed her hair from her face and looked up at Black Eagle once more. She smiled, presenting him with silent seduction. Gone was her reserve, and quite deliberately, she bestowed upon Black Eagle what had to be a “come-on” look. She watched, then, as he so obviously received her intent, watched also a part of his body that was not within his conscious control twitch to life. Fortunately for her, but unfortunate for him, the breechcloth he wore provided little cover.

She grinned, feeling extremely feminine, yet powerful in her own right. His reaction was exactly what she had hoped for, but what she hadn't counted on was an answering response that echoed within her.

“Your husband is the fastest runner in all the Mohawk Nation.” It was Laughing Maid speaking. All three sisters stood together at the side of the track. As was becoming commonplace, Pretty Ribbon was hanging onto Marisa's hand.

“The fastest runner? Truly?”

“
Nyoh
, we will see today if he will hold onto the honor. Look, they are about to begin.”

A shot fired and all the men who were participating in the race leapt forward. The crowd around her sent up cheers. At first, Black Eagle lagged behind several of the others, but it wasn't long before he had started to pull ahead.

“Go Black Eagle!” she cried in English, adding her voice to the shouts of those around her.

And then all of the runners disappeared into a valley. Momentarily, the participants were hidden from view.

The track was long, perhaps a two or three mile run. Several fields had been cleared to make the track, and later today it would be used for other games, as well. However, these fields dipped into and out of the forests, and perhaps this made the race more interesting to the runners, but difficult for the spectators. The track did make a large circle that would eventually bring the runners back to the starting point, which was also the finishing line. But that didn't make the spectator's anxiety less.

“Look there!”

“I see them!”

The runners were coming back, headed toward them from the opposite direction. Who was in the lead? Was it Black Eagle? She edged forward, straining to see.

It was Black Eagle in the lead, along with another youth, one whose name she had never learned. The two were coming into the finish line neck and neck.

As they sped across that line, it was evident that Black Eagle won. But perhaps he had done so only by a nose. The youth had been right on his heels.

The crowd yelled and cheered, and several well-wishers rushed forward to congratulate not only Black Eagle, but the youth who had put him to the test. Among them was a beautiful, young Indian woman. Marisa took note.

“It is good that Black Eagle won,” observed Laughing Maid. “The boy who almost beat him is the brother of White Doe.”

“White Doe?” asked Marisa.

Laughing Maid nodded toward the pretty woman.

“Who is she?” asked Marisa.

“She is the one who broke your husband's heart by marrying another. It is said that she was in love with Black Eagle, but because his family was poorer than Good Shield's, she passed Black Eagle by. It is said that she still loves Black Eagle, and were Black Eagle a little less proud, that she would allow him to have an affair with her.”

“Is that possible here, where everyone knows everyone else?”

“Of course it is possible. But do not worry. Black Eagle is an honorable man, and Good Shield is a faithful husband to White Doe and a good father to their children. It may only be gossip, also.”

“Yes,” said Marisa. “It is probably no more than gossip. People do like to talk.”

Still, as Marisa looked at the woman, it was a less than amicable glance. She said, “Perhaps I will go and congratulation my husband, as well. Come, Pretty Ribbon, let's go and give my husband a kiss.”

When Pretty Ribbon nodded, Marisa pushed forward, through the crowd, eventually elbowing her way to the center of attraction. As she approached Black Eagle, she noted that White Doe stood by his side, smiling up at him, as though she deserved his extra-special attention.

We'll have none of that
, thought Marisa, and coming directly up to Black Eagle, she stood unashamedly before him. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up to place a kiss on his lips.

He responded immediately, pulling her in close to him, deepening the kiss, acting as though none of the other people who stood around them existed. She whispered, “Congratulations!”

But his only response was a low growl, as his tongue took advantage of her open lips and invaded her mouth. She responded with much the same fervor as he, and the kiss went on and on. Even the people around them began to comment:

“They are newly married. It is only natural.”

“They are in love.”

Several people laughed.

Eventually, he broke off the kiss, but only to pull her even closer in his arms, and bringing his head down to inhale the fragrance of her hair, he said in English, “Perhaps I should ask White Doe to stand by me every day of my life.”

Marisa broke apart from him. “Oh, you! You knew!”

He grinned at her. “Of course I knew. And I like it. Pretty Ribbon, can you go and find your other sister?
Ahweyoh
and I are going to our quarters.”

And when Pretty Ribbon nodded, Black Eagle said to Marisa, “Come. There are some things we need to do.”

Marisa grinned.

Lifting up the bark door of the longhouse, Black Eagle escorted his wife into its dark interior. Since most everyone was at the festival, the dwelling was almost deserted. He had no more than closed the door, when he backed her up against one of the posts and stole a kiss.

“You flirted with me before the race,” he stated between kisses, speaking in English.

She laughed. “Yes, I did.”

Reaching down to grab hold of her buttocks, he pulled her in toward him. “Do you not realize,” he asked, “that it is difficult to race when your blood is pooling in the center of your body? ” He kissed her again.

“Oh?” She wiggled out of his embrace and ran down the corridor to their own quarters. He followed.