Lakota Surrender (28 page)

He and Wahtapah sprinted toward the sound, their lances held upright, ready to be hurled.

Though more than a hundred yards separated them from the animals, both men gave a shrill war whoop and rushed forward toward the tree. Tahiska noted Kristina had climbed nearly to the top of the tree, and he could only hope that she was unharmed, for the pack of wolves was hungry and would not easily leave their prey.

Tahiska heaved his spear at a wolf, the immediate whimpering sound indicating he had met the target, then drawing his bow, he shot several arrows in succession while Wahtapah rushed forward with his own spear. Another screech, then another. The wolves backed away while Tahiska and Wahtapah sprang toward them, chasing them away until they were too distant to be any more threat.

Tahiska turned around and bounded toward the tree.

“Kristina?” he yelled as soon as he was within shouting range. He sprinted to the tree, leaping to the top in an athletic move that sent him sprawling onto a branch just below Kristina. “Are you safe?” he asked in Indian.

“Tahiska. I… I am lost.” She could say no more. In truth, she could barely speak.

He offered his hand to her to help her down from the tree. “I know,” was all he said. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” She swallowed. “Just frightened.”

Tahiska mumbled a response and encircling her within his arms, drew her with him to the ground.

He held her there against him for a long while, unwilling to let her go even a little distance from him. He buried his face in her hair, breathing the scent that belonged only to her, thanking his god that he had been in time.

“They did not get to you at all?”

“No,” she whispered. “I knew you would find me first, but the waiting was frightening.”

Tahiska buried his head within the softness of her hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and decided against telling her that had he and his friend been too long upon the trail, they would not have found her in time.

She was safe now. That was all that mattered.

“It was my responsibility. I did not consider another animal crossing my path and confusing you. Come.” Tahiska set her away from him and started back on the trail. “We waste time. You are always concerned about returning to the fort before the gates shut. It is a long way back to camp and we are on foot. Your people will worry about you. We must hurry. Are you able to walk?”

“Yes.”

He nodded then and started out, setting a fast pace, but still he looked back at her from time to time. Kristina, though tired and under the effects of shock, matched her speed to his, never once complaining.

He was proud of her. Very proud. And when he knew no one could observe him, he smiled.

Chapter Thirteen

The fort fairly bustled with activity. Kristina had never seen people so busy. Every barrack sparkled. Every building gleamed under the warming rays of the sun. Clean laundry hung out back of every home, the white sheets and curtains beaming in the sunshine, fluttering in the breeze.

Women polished their silver, soldiers shined their boots, maids spread a fresh coat of wax over the furniture while the cooks prepared a feast.

General Leavenworth himself, along with the artist George Catlin, were due to arrive soon and there was no one at the fort who wasn’t rushed, who hadn’t dressed in his or her finest clothing. Even the livery sparkled as though it housed gems instead of horses.

Why were they coming here? Kristina had heard rumor that it had something to do with the Indians, but just what no one seemed to know.

She had warned Tahiska that neither she nor Julia would be able to visit the Indian camp today. She hoped he would understand. So far she and Julia had ridden out onto the plains every day, but it just wasn’t possible today. Their absence at the fort would be noticed.

Would Tahiska and his friends visit the fort? He hadn’t been inside these walls since the day he had met up with the three junior officers at the trading center. Odd. He and his friends were here on tribal business relating to trade, and yet they rarely stepped inside—even were reluctant to come within sight of the fort. And though Kristina could understand their aversion, she had tried to explain that not all white people were like the three bullies they had encountered. The Indians, however, preferred to keep their distance.

Not that Kristina minded their absence. She wasn’t sure how she should act with Tahiska if they were ever to meet her mother and father within these walls. It was one thing to flaunt her relationship in front of Julia, where she could be more or less herself, but here at the fort? She was the Indians’ interpreter. She would have to be with them constantly. Would she be able to hide her feelings, or would others notice her special relationship with Tahiska? She felt the latter was true and she worried.

“Miss Kristina, your mother wishes to see you in the sitting room.”

Kristina twirled about. She hadn’t realized she’d left her bedroom door open. She’d been so lost in thought, staring down sightlessly into the bustling street, she hadn’t heard the maid’s knock; the gentle request startled her.

She smiled demurely to mask her anxiousness, then responded, “Thank you. Will you tell her I’ll be down presently? I haven’t yet finished dressing.”

“Yes, miss,” their household maid replied, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Kristina stared at the door for a second longer then returned her gaze to the scene outside her window. Where was he now? She lifted her sight to the prairie, just barely visible over the fort’s walls. She missed him.

She’d only been gone from him for a few hours and already she missed him. What was she to do? She couldn’t live with him in either his world or hers. She also didn’t appear to be able to live without him. The problem seemed insurmountable. Squeezing her eyes shut, she sighed before finally drawing away to finish dressing.

“Of course, I have no idea what business the general and Mr. Catlin have arranged here, but I think it time you and I made plans to go home. If they intend to return to civilization after their visit you and I will accompany them.”

Kristina stared at her mother as though she had suddenly grown horns. Carefully clearing her throat, Kristina asserted, “This is my home, Mother. I like it here. I don’t wish to return to the East.”

“Your father will object,” Margaret Bogard continued, choosing to ignore her daughter’s statement. “But I think that our combined arguments will convince him that this is for the best.”

“I don’t wish to leave.”

“Nonsense!” The older woman glared at her daughter. “What culture could this dull fort offer you? There’s nothing here except some half-naked savages and people who cater to them. No, you just don’t know your own mind. When Mr. Catlin returns, we will accompany him.”

Kristina said nothing. It was obvious her mother heard only what she wanted to hear. But of one thing, Kristina was certain: She would never leave.

“Am I to understand that
you
are an interpreter for the Indians?”

Kristina smiled shyly. “Yes, sir.”

George Catlin eyed the young girl before him.

Slim and beautiful, her manners were entirely English and impeccable. She presented him with an enigma—the contradiction between her demure composure and her ability to communicate with the natives was incredible.

His interpreters always had been either traders, Indian themselves, or half-breeds. Never had a white woman acted as interpreter, and Mr. Catlin wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with the situation.

“You say these Indians are Sioux?”

“Yes,” Kristina responded. “They have told me they are here to investigate the trade, that the American Fur Company in the north is cheating them.”

“That’s odd,” Mr. Catlin said, leaning against the balcony where he and the young lady were standing. Below them were the general’s quarters, which housed himself and General Leavenworth. Just inside here, on the second floor, stood several guests who were honoring him with a party. But the day was yet bright and cheerful with several hours of sunlight left before dusk, and Mr. Catlin was unused to having to bear the inside of four walls for any length of time. Absently, he studied the band members who were setting up to play for the scheduled dance. “I don’t quite understand why they are dissatisfied. When I was there amongst them last year they seemed content. A very warlike tribe, the Sioux. I stayed amongst them for quite some time painting their portraits, and I barely left with my scalp in place, an interesting and savage story I must tell you. And they are allowing a woman to interpret for them? Do you hold some sort of power over them?”

His question hung in the air as the delicate young girl looked up at him.

In her gaze he noticed a sort of awe and he wondered why. It was
he
who was intrigued. Yes, he had just returned from the outermost regions of Indian country where he had painted hundreds of Indian portraits, but this young woman had accomplished the impossible and he was eager to know how she had done it. He’d like to spend hours talking with her, not just these few stolen minutes.

She smiled at him. “Please excuse my delay in answering,” she said. “Your question caused me to remember an old childhood friend. It’s not so strange really that I am able to act as interpreter. I had an Indian nanny as a child who told me wonderful stories and taught me the language of sign. The day the three Sioux came to the fort was the Fourth of July and no one else was here to interpret for them. Somehow I convinced them to accept me as translator and once accepted, I was unable to resign the post.” She laughed. “The Indians would not allow it.”

George Catlin looked hard at the pretty girl before him. Sweet, delicate—who would believe that she alone acted as interpreter for three Sioux warriors?

“Where are they now?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.” She gazed towards the fort’s entry, whose gates stood wide open. “They rarely come into the fort, so my services for them are seldom needed.”

“If they don’t come to the fort within the next few days, will you ride out with me to find them? I am here to paint the Indians and set them on canvas for posterity. I believe that soon these wild tribes will be wiped out. I wish to paint them in their natural state before they are ruined by civilization. I’m to set out for the Pawnee village in a few days, but before I go I would seek out these three men.” George Catlin observed the profile of the young girl before him. “I would like to meet these Indians who allow a woman into their midst. Did you know that the Sioux would not allow me to paint any of their women? After committing the images of their warriors to canvas, they would not allow a mere woman to sit for me. I am surprised at these warriors’ attitudes toward you; I find this single instance of tolerance most interesting.”

“It’s only a matter of courtesy and honor.” Kristina turned to him, offering him her hand. “And of course I’ll accompany you to find them.”

Mr. Catlin smiled, and taking her outstretched hand in his own, bent to press a kiss against the proffered hand.

As he straightened away, he caught movement in his peripheral vision, and turning his head slightly encountered savage, black eyes staring back up at him. Sioux. He could tell just from that look alone.

“I think that your Indian friends are here,” he, stated to the young lady. “Perhaps you would be so good as to tell them that I am also a friend. That one looks as though he wants my scalp.” Kristina directed her gaze to the streets. Tahiska stood just below them.

Color filled her cheeks, and quite beside herself, Kristina smiled. Then, without looking up, she said, “Yes, Mr. Catlin, I’ll tell them, if you’ll excuse me.”’

She glanced up then, blushing profusely.

George Catlin just stared at her. What was going on here? He glanced from the Indian back to the girl, to the Indian again. There was no denying the possessive quality in the Indian’s look, just as there was no doubt about this young girl’s reaction.

He scratched his chin, wondering if he should say anything, finally settling on the fact that it was none of his or anyone else’s business.

Music filled the streets, paths, and every corner of the fort, its resonance even carrying over the walls. It was almost dusk, the party just reaching its peak. The two guests of honor, along with the officers and their wives, hovered near the center of the crowd while the traders and junior officers stood to the side, some dancing, some drinking. Most of the Indians from various tribes stood in the back on the inner circle’s outskirts.

Tahiska noted the position of the sun, then glanced toward the fort’s gates. Soon all Indians would be forced to leave since they were seldom allowed to remain here after dark. He took a deep breath, then focused his attention on his wife. He ached for her. He never thought it possible that he could miss the presence of anyone so much, yet he knew he did not confuse these feelings. He needed her. He wanted her. Still, if he understood correctly, she would not be able to visit his camp too often in the future. For one thing, the fort entertained guests, then also the autumn prairie fires had begun, raging indiscriminately over the plains at any given time, leaving behind destruction. It was a dangerous time of year and he wouldn’t have Kristina risk her life on the prairie.