Lakota Surrender (6 page)

“Halt!” His thrusting motion stopped just short of her breasts. His gaze was unwavering, yet she felt his anger did not extend to her. He raised his chin defiantly. “I do not
have
to speak to anyone. Our cause can be settled another way.”

“I beg you to try to continue the council.” Unable to look away, she held his gaze. “Perhaps I should explain. I am told I’m too forward for a woman. I am told I compete too fiercely with men. I am told I have talents only men should have. Maybe that is why the chief feels comfortable in asking me here.”

He paused suddenly, and Kristina warmed under the heat of his gaze which travelled down to the hem of her dress and back up, till his eyes returned to hers.

“Why do you say this?” he signed. “Are you one of those women who—?”

His hand motions stopped in midair. He had the grace to realize he should not ask what was in his mind, but Kristina, familiar with his culture, knew his thoughts, knew that his inquiry was personal, that he wanted to know about her—was she male in spirit rather than female?—wanted to know if that was why she competed with men in their own sphere.

“No,” she spoke aloud, responding to his thoughts, not to his question. She shook her head firmly, signing, “No, that is not why.”

She could feel the blush rise to her face and she looked away. Odd, but Kristina also felt urged to assure this man in a most feminine way that his speculations about her were incorrect.

“I…” Kristina paused, and with eyes clearly focused on his, she added, “It’s just that I am smarter than most men.”

Though not a single muscle moved, the Indian’s eyes mirrored amusement, while beside him one of his friends smiled.

They all visibly relaxed. Kristina smiled. She just might be able to save this council after all.

“I beg you to continue,” she signed. “But if you feel you must not council through me, come back tomorrow. Other men will be here then.”

He hesitated. Nothing was said for a few moments, nothing was signed, no breath was drawn. He drew his arm, with her hand still upon him, closer.

“I will have you.”

Kristina stared at him, unable to respond. It was a small victory. And deep within her mind, she saw his gestures again and again. Did she dare to interpret that phrase other than the way it was meant?

“What is this all about?” Colonel Wheeling interrupted, his voice startling Kristina, who jumped back. Four pairs of eyes, three Indian and one white, stared at him. He knew he had been forgotten in the midst of the turbulent emotions, and he waited as Kristina stepped back to the middle of the room, away from the Indians. She smiled shyly at him.

“Sir, they were insulted you brought in a woman as interpreter. They’re here from the Lakota nation and apparently they don’t council with women, even as interpreter.” As she spoke, he watched the three Indians step back into the room. “They almost walked out.”

The colonel had the grace to blush. That was exactly what he had intended. He didn’t like Indians. He had fought several different tribes back east and he saw no reason why he should humor these men. “Yes, I thought they were leaving. Maybe you can tell me, Miss Bogard, why are they still here?”

Kristina swallowed. “I seem to have convinced them to trust me as interpreter after all.”

The colonel considered her naiveté, then facing the Indian in white, noted the intelligent leer in his obsidian eyes.

There was no pretense in that expression, and the colonel knew, without a doubt, that he’d been found out.

“Proceed, Miss Bogard,” he ordered at last. “Let’s discover why these young men have traveled such a great distance to come here.”

“Yes, sir,” Kristina uttered and, pivoting around, addressed the Indians.

“You are from the great Lakota nation in the northwest. I have heard of this tribe, though you are the first from it I have met. You are welcome. You have traveled far to conduct business here. How can we help you?” She noted with satisfaction that her hands were steady and vocalization was not necessary to accompany the signing.

“Wait,” he motioned. “What are you called?”

Kristina, caught off guard, felt color flood her cheeks. It was another personal inquiry. The second one so far. She hadn’t expected either. Her gaze locked with his.

“Kristina,” she repeated aloud, pointing to herself.

“Kris-tee-na.” His Indian tongue added an elegance to the pronunciation that her ear had never before heard. She liked it. He pointed to himself. “Ta-his-ka.”

“Tahiska,” she repeated, then inclined her head to the other Indians, though they both only returned her stare. She then pointed to the colonel, but the Indian’s halt sign, plus his cold glance, kept her still.

“Tahiska,” she tried his name again, then asked, “What does it mean?”

“White Buffalo,” he responded. “And the meaning of yours?”

Kristina shrugged and glanced around her. “It has no meaning.”

Tahiska nodded, then added in sign, “I had heard that white people’s names hold no symbolism, but until now I didn’t believe it.”

“What is he saying?” the colonel interrupted, earning himself a glare from Tahiska.

“We’re introducing ourselves,” Kristina responded, glancing over her shoulder and pivoting slightly. “I think it’s important that he know who we are. It’s good manners. One of the Indians here at the fort told me that ritual and manners are vital to a council,” she explained, hoping the colonel would not question her further. She was not inclined to reveal to the commanding officer that there was more to the content of the communications.

The colonel paused and Kristina held her breath, waiting. And though his gaze at her might have been suspicious, finally he waved her on, saying, “Very well. Proceed.”

Sighing, she turned back to the Indians.

“Question,” she rotated her upright hand. “Why are you here?”

Staring at the woman, Tahiska was still for a moment. So much had happened here today that he needed time before replying. First there had been the woman and his reactions to her at a time when he was on important tribal business. And now this, this insult from the colonel. He didn’t doubt for a moment that the colonel had intended every disgrace.

Tahiska hadn’t expected either problem, and he hoped that his friends would understand his actions. He dared much by admitting this woman to council. He trusted none of the white people he had met so far, with the possible exception of the woman. Did he dare to tell her his exact purpose? What would the white man’s reaction be if he told them he had come for the scalps of two of their men? In just the little time he had been at the soldier fort, each person he had come into contact with, save the woman, looked upon him with a mixture of fear and condescension. He was particularly aware of it since it was an attitude he’d previously faced from a few fur traders with whom he’d bartered. And while at any other time Tahiska might have challenged this patronization, such action would surely defeat his purpose here.

The white chief had just insulted him. He knew it. He had seen the gleam in the white man’s eyes.

This
washechu
was not to be trusted.

It meant that he and his friends would need to guard what they said. It meant he would have to find these two white men without assistance from the
washechu
at the fort. Cautioning himself against revealing too much, his hands, one finger up, switched past each other.

“Trade,” Kristina translated while the handsome warrior continued the signs, his movements graceful and fluid. “They’re here because trade is poor elsewhere. The fur company in the north cheated them this year. All the tribes are…angry. Where once five buffalo robes would be fair exchange for a rifle…now ten buy only a…knife. They have come here to seek better exchange. He wants to know…how we trade and what…we offer.”

When she finished translating, Kristina glanced at the colonel, who sat for the moment, poised to react.

“Trade!” The colonel leaped to his feet, his face livid. He pounded on his desk, causing Kristina to shrink away. “Trade! I’ve been summoned to a council in the middle of the day on the Fourth of July because this Indian wants to trade!”

“Colonel, sir, I think that…”

“Tell this savage,” the officer ignored her, “to come back tomorrow. Tell him he’ll have to pay double for wasting my time. Tell him…”

“…to report your trickery back to his tribe and invite the whole of the Sioux nation here in war?”

“Father!”

“Sioux?” The colonel’s gaze snapped to the door, and Kristina witnessed the slow flush that filled the commanding officer’s face. It made her wonder if the man had something to hide. Finally, the colonel opened his mouth to speak, closed it, tried again, stammering, “These Indians are from the Lakota nation, not the…”

“One and the same, Colonel.” Her father, the major, stalked further into the room, fixing his gaze upon the senior officer. “The French gave them the name Sioux. It’s an insult. The Indians call themselves the Dakota, or Lakota, depending on dialect.” That the major was furious was without question. “If you would care to study the Indians in this country, you would know that these men are Sioux, just from the make of their moccasins. Your ignorance could have cost every man in this post his life. You’re new here, Colonel. You don’t insult these people and expect to live long. I suggest that you pick a less warlike tribe to abuse in the future. The Sioux can boast as many as ten thousand warriors. Are you ready to fight them?”

Kristina flinched as the colonel shot a glare at her. He drew himself up to his full height, then spoke to the major, “I was not informed by your daughter these warriors were Sioux. Had I known…”

“The fault,” the major said, advancing across the room, until his face was inches from the colonel’s, “is solely yours. You asked my daughter to interpret. Yet even you know the Indian might consider this degrading. When I heard you had asked Kristina to act as interpreter, putting her life in danger, I…” The major leaned back. “I’m surprised the Indians are still here.” He glanced at her.

Kristina smiled, but she knew it was shaky. “I did my best.”

Her father nodded and, wheeling around, sized up the Indians. Then, turning back, he leveled a penetrating glare at her. “They say they’re here to trade?”

“Yes.”

“Did they tell you why they’ve come so far south?”

“They feel they’re being cheated by the fur company in their country. They are making inquiries here in the hopes of finding the exchange fairer at our post. He said that their tribes are angry.”

The major nodded. “You’ve done well, honey.” He gave her a sidelong grin. “I’ll take over from here. Your ma needs help with the festivities. You go on now.”

Kristina glanced at Tahiska beneath her lashes. She would rather have stayed. She nodded compliance, however, then lifting her skirts, rushed toward the door.

Tahiska watched the exchange between the two soldiers with interest. While intuition told him the newcomer meant them no harm, he held back, preferring to observe the argument from a distance.

It was only when the white woman was addressed that Tahiska experienced a rush of concern, though he couldn’t decipher its exact source. His senses alerted, he felt, rather than merely saw, the smile exchanged between the newcomer and the woman. And with complete shock, Tahiska felt the stirrings of jealousy burst within him.

The girl and the man exchanged comments, and in Tahiska’s aggravated state, he didn’t notice the resemblance between the two speakers. He did, however, mark the bond between the woman and the white man, and again a rush of raw emotion swept through him.

Tahiska’s keen insight warned him of the woman’s dismissal. Emotion tore through him. Now that he had accepted her, he would fight to keep her. Besides, if she became interpreter, it meant he would see her again, something that had suddenly become important to him.

He caught her quick glance at him through her lashes, though she tried to cover it. He instantly sensed the desire in the look and, with fluidity and grace, Tahiska sped to the door on silent feet, blocking the exit with one arm spread across the entrance.

The white woman, Kristina, had neither seen nor heard his movement and walked straight into him. Though the contact was brief, her touch triggered a response within him. Startled at his instantaneous reaction, and infinitely aware of the watching and the flaring hostilities, Tahiska’s first words were unnecessarily harsh.

“The white woman stays.” He followed his verbal command with rapid signing. “I told her I would use her as interpreter. It was a promise.”

Tahiska didn’t glance at the woman. His signs were entirely for the newcomer, but the Indian noted, with pleasure, that Kristina had not shifted away from him. She was still close, only a few inches away, and he sensed she was staring straight up at him. Though Tahiska longed to return her look, his rigorous Indian training kept his wayward body under control and his stare upon his potential enemy.

“You do not understand,” the white soldier signed. “Our chief is new, he does not understand your ways. You do not need the woman to interpret. We do not abuse you in this way. I am also a chief. I will interpret for you.”