White Eagle's Touch (12 page)

“No,” said Katrina. “Not yet. I fear, though, that his response will be as negative as my fiancé’s. Truly, I know of nowhere else to turn.”

“I understand.” Rebecca glanced quickly around her. “Perhaps, though, you could seek out the Indian in the morning, when it is safer. I fear you should go back to the fort now.”

“No, I…I wish to stay a little longer.”

“But, mistress, we are not within the shelter of the fort, and we are among…well, these savages. They might likely kill you…or me.”

“Might they? Yes, yes, of course you are right,” Katrina said, “and yet at times, I have felt myself more in danger at the fort.”

Rebecca didn’t reply at once. “This is true,” she said at last. “I, too, have felt this. Still…did you know that the fort’s clerks, under the guise of nightfall, have been giving the Indians free liquor tonight? Illegal liquor? And we all have heard what a drunken Indian can do to a trader—even to themselves.”

Katrina nodded. “Then it indeed is not safe. You may go back, Rebecca, I wouldn’t want you to put your life in danger. But I must stay. I must talk with White Eagle tonight.”

“Is that his name?”

Katrina nodded. “You go on back, now. I will meet you there later.”

The young maid’s grip upon her mistress’s arm tightened. “And leave you here, alone? No, I will not.”

The women glanced at one another.

“Very well, then,” Katrina said, “stay with me, but I wish to remain here a little longer, at least until I have a chance to speak to White Eagle. We will watch and listen. I don’t believe anyone has noticed us.”

Rebecca huddled in toward her, whispering, “All right, mistress.”

“You are wrong,” came a definite masculine reply from behind them.

Huddling together, the two of them turned in unison.

It was the Indian. How had White Eagle moved so swiftly so as to come up behind them? And especially, how could he have done it so silently?

He said, “You have been very much noticed, but you are in no danger. We are flattered that you are interested in our dance. Come closer, won’t you? I have something for you.”

“N-no,” Katrina said, her hand clutching Rebecca’s. “We are happy to just stand here on the outskirts of the…ah…dancers.”

“I promise that no harm will come to you.”

“Do you?” Hadn’t she heard somewhere that an Indian’s word was as honorable as the most civilized gent’s? “What do you have for me?”

“You will see, and, yes, I promise,” he said, as he held out an object toward her—a pink-and-white frilly contraption…

“My umbrella! Wherever did you find it?”

“It was left behind when you visited me in my lodge.”

“Oh, I must extend my apology for the inconvenience. Thank you for bringing this to me.”

He nodded.

He handed the object to her and looked away, silence reigning between them, until at last, she asked, “Do you celebrate something tonight?”

“Aa,
yes.”

“Oh? What are you celebrating?”

“My people have had a good trading season this year, and they will go home much better off than when they came here. It is a good thing.”

“Yes.”

He stared at her then, just as he had when she’d first noticed him across the line of dancers, and she returned the attention.

Something elusive passed between them, within that steady look. She couldn’t have said what it was, only that it made her feel…calm. Calm and warm.

She said, “I have come here to talk to you.”

He nodded, and held out his hand. “Come,” he said.

But Katrina held back. She huddled in closer to Rebecca.

He did not withdraw his hand. Instead, he said again, “Come.”

Both girls stared at that hand, Rebecca looking over toward Katrina, then back at the hand.

Katrina, however, lifted her gaze to the Indian. Their glances met, held; his inviting, hers…

She made a movement forward, toward him, but Rebecca clung to her, holding her back. Rebecca whispered, “I don’t think you should do it. I feel we should leave here at once. Whatever you have to say to this man can be said in the morning.”

Katrina looked at her maid, then back at the Indian. She said, “I have come here to speak with you.”

White Eagle nodded. Without letting his hand drop, he said again, “I know. Come with me.”

“I…”

“Mistress…?”

Katrina didn’t even glance at her maid. She stared only at White Eagle’s hand, as he stretched it out toward her. She wanted so much to take it. What could be wrong with that?

She made to move forward.

“Mistress…?”

Again Katrina paid her maid no heed. Rebecca wasn’t gazing at White Eagle; Rebecca couldn’t know the pull…the magnetism of him, the desire to be close to him…

Katrina stepped forward then, and with only a slight hesitation, placed her hand within the Indian’s.

Immediately, a feeling of relief swept through her. She glanced up at White Eagle, and they gazed at one another until, after a moment, he smiled at her.

Katrina used to wonder at women who would swoon at the least provocation, but now she thought she understood the emotion behind it. A raw feeling raced through her and she was glad, for the first time, that Rebecca stood behind her, if only to hold her up.

At last, though, he spoke to her, saying, “Come, follow me,” whereupon he let go of her hand and turned around to lead them through the crowd, many of the native people standing back to make room for them.

Presently they reached the inner ring of the circle, the dancers standing no more than a few feet away from them.

White Eagle said to her, “These men do a dance honoring the Mad Dog Society.”

Katrina nodded, while Rebecca hung on to her arm.

Katrina glanced down at her maid. Rebecca’s eyes were wide, the girl’s glance darting all around the circle.

Katrina patted Rebecca’s hand and gazed back at the dancers. She was almost ready to ask White Eagle to explain about the mad dog society when he said,
“Ah-kit-kats-a-pin-soye,”
and pointed to Rebecca.

Katrina hesitated a moment. She had an odd perception, a feeling that she should know the meaning of those words, and she was just about to comment upon it, when Rebecca clutched at her arm. Looking at White Eagle, Katrina asked, “What did you just say?”

He pointed to Rebecca. “She looks around very much and winks her eyes as though they are dry.”

Katrina nodded.

“She is frightened,” he continued, “and is looking around as a newcomer will do.”

“Is that what a newcomer does?” Katrina wondered, considering this for a moment. “Why, I believe you are right. What an observant phrase. What was it again? She looks around…”

“…very much and winks her eyes as though they are dry.”

“Say it in your language.”

He said,
“Ah-kit-kats-a-pin-soye.”

“Ah-kit-kats
…”

“…a-pin-soye.
When this dance is finished,” he continued to say, “some of the older men will dance the Kit-Fox dance. Would you like to hear the story of that dance?”

Katrina nodded while Rebecca did nothing more than stare. But both girls remained silent, and so he went on to say, “In the days of my grandfather, it is said that there was once a man called Elk Tongue who had been journeying with others into the Snake country, but he soon left the others and turned back toward the village.

He walked a very long way and was very tired. He was so tired that he fell asleep near a prairie-dog village. In his dreams the kit foxes came out of their holes and came to him and invited him to a feast. There they showed him a dance and talked to him and told him that if he and his people would not kill any more of the kit foxes, that all would be rewarded with long life. It is said that from this time forward, no members of this society ever came to great harm and all lived long lives. The dance these people do is the same dance taught to them by the kit foxes.”

Katrina simply stared at him, unable to voice a single word. She had heard of it, of course, of the Indian’s close relationship with the land, with all of nature, but until this moment, she hadn’t been fully aware of the extent of that truth. And she felt mesmerized; not only by the tone and quality of White Eagle’s voice, but by the simple story of a prairie animal’s relationship with humans.

White Eagle didn’t seem to notice her preoccupation, however. He continued speaking, saying, “Come, there is more I will show you,” and, gesturing for them to follow him, he led them to a different part of the camp. “This is yet another dance,” he said, as they came upon a group of people. “There are many dances and ceremonies that are taking place in the camp tonight.”

He gestured in front of him to where a line of women faced a line of men. “Do you see the women there?” He nodded in their direction. “When the singing and drumming begins, the women will dance up to the men while the men watch and stand in place, waiting. This dance is called the
Sina-paskan,
or the dance of the Sioux.

It is a good dance and very popular with our people because a part of this dance allows the girl to choose the man she is to dance with.”

Katrina nodded, and said, “This is all fascinating, but is there somewhere more private where we could talk?”

He nodded.
“Aa,
yes, but this will not take long, and it is an interesting dance.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” he said and, motioning back toward the dancers, continued, “Either the man, or the woman, is allowed to tag a partner to begin the dance, and once tagged, the person must dance. If a person who has been tagged refuses to do so, he must pay the other person the price of something valuable.”

Katrina glanced forward, at the two lines of dancers. “How unusual,” she said, “and what happens, might I ask, if a person—so tagged—chooses not to give something to the other person?”

He shrugged. “He or she will be looked upon as stingy, and the people in camp will make fun of that man or woman for as long as it takes the person to make the offering of a present.”

“Humph,” Katrina said. “A somewhat unusual justice system.”

He nodded. “It is as it has always been.” He glanced down at her, speculation in his gaze as he said, “There is also one more part of this dance.”

“Oh?”

“Aa,
yes. Once a woman dances up to a man, she is expected to bestow upon him a…favor, for which he, in return, must give her a present.”

“Oh? What sort of favor does she give him?”

White Eagle smiled at her. “You will see.

I do not wish to tell you all there is to know about the performance. Let there be some surprise.”

Katrina gave him a quizzical look before glancing once again at the dancers.

“So,” he said, “if a woman throws her shawl over a man, he must dance; or if a man gives a woman his headdress or the feathers in his hair, she must participate, also.”

Katrina glanced at him, then away, looking back over at the line of dancers.

Suddenly, White Eagle tapped her on the shoulder and, when she turned her face toward him, he proffered her a feather—the feather that had been dangling in his hair.

She sent a startled glance up to him, then toward the feather. She said. “Surely you don’t mean to ask me to dance…?”

He nodded.
“Aa,
yes, I do.”

“But I’m not Indian, I don’t know your customs, I couldn’t…”

“Yes, you could.”

“No, I—”

“If you are chosen, you must take part. Or you must pay the price.”

“And what price would I have to pay?”

“It would be up to me to decide.”

“Up to you…?”

He nodded.

“But…”

He touched her arm. “Come.”

He didn’t say another word; he simply gestured to her to follow him out into the line of women dancers, and she, after casting a mournful look at Rebecca, followed him. The women in line giggled at her, yet they made room for her nonetheless.

He crossed over to the line of men.

The drum started at once, the singing, too, and the women began to sway to the music; they did nothing more, at first, but stand in place and rock back and forth to the pulse of that drum.

And then the line of women started to move forward, the Indians all taking very small steps and swaying to the beat of the drum. Suddenly Rebecca came into line beside Katrina. She grabbed at Katrina’s hand.

“I was chosen, too,” Rebecca whispered. “What are we to do?”

Katrina let her gaze sweep over the line, all the women continuing to move forward in slow, steady steps. She said, “I don’t see that we have a choice. White Eagle promised me that no harm would come to us while we are with him, so I suppose we must go along with this and do the dance. It will be over soon. Goodness knows what the Indians would want from us as recompense if we don’t dance. No, I think it is better that we do this.”

Rebecca nodded, and both girls fell into step, slowly pacing forward.