She knew whom he was missing.
One Eye.
As the sun had set in the west, all of the separate Creek clans had finally arrived. They sat in a wide, half circle around the fire, enjoying the dancing and music, and would soon enjoy a feast of feasts with Swift Horse’s clan.
As people had begun arriving, Swift Horse had greeted them personally, his eyes watching for One Eye’s arrival with his clan. One Eye’s clan had been the last to arrive—in fact they were so late that Swift Horse was not standing there to greet them. He had already sat down on the platform with Marsha and would remain there until the dancing part of the celebration was over.
Marsha knew that Swift Horse realized something was awry when the Wolf Clan arrived so late.
Knowing how Swift Horse felt about not seeing One Eye there, Marsha could almost feel his anger. His longtime best friend had not attended the ceremony—the first time he had not attended with his clan, ever.
Marsha jumped with a start when Swift Horse suddenly left the platform. She looked over at Soft Wind, who sat at her left side, and questioned her with her eyes as Soft Wind looked back at her.
“Go to him,” Soft Wind softly urged, nodding. “He needs you.”
Trusting that Soft Wind knew the protocol of things and was urging Marsha to leave, Marsha nodded, smiled at Soft Wind, then left the platform in a rush, hurriedly following in the direction that she had seen Swift Horse go in determined, angry steps.
When she finally reached him at the corral, his hands were tightly fisted at his sides, and his eyes stared straight ahead.
Marsha stepped gingerly to his side. “Swift Horse?” she said, reaching and touching his arm. When he didn’t respond, she stepped between him and where he was gazing, so that he would see her.
“You finally know, don’t you?” Marsha murmured, reaching a gentle hand to his cheek. “Because of One Eye’s absence at the most important ceremony of the year, you know that he is sporting an injury that I inflicted on him.”
“I believe that now, too, from the depths of my heart, but still I cannot face him with it,” Swift Horse said. He took her hand in his. “My woman, I must still wait and let him reveal himself to me. He will not be able to bear silence between us for much longer, not after having been confidantes and best friends for so long.”
“But while you are waiting for him to come to you, might he not be wreaking havoc somewhere else as he is prone to do?” Marsha asked, searching his eyes. “Can you chance that?”
“I am certain that the wound you inflicted on him has slowed him down enough for me not to have that burden on my mind,” Swift Horse explained. “I must wait, Marsha. He will not be able to bear absence from my village for long, for it has become his second home. And when he is able to travel, I feel this will be the first place he will come.”
“But the wound,” Marsha said, not wanting to argue, yet feeling the need to. “He knows his wound will reveal his guilt. The scar will always be proof, for I hit him hard enough for him to have a scar left there forever.”
“He is a clever man who will come up with an answer to even that,” Swift Horse said, slowly shaking his head back and forth. “He is
more clever than I ever gave him credit for.”
“Yet you will not act on knowing that?” Marsha asked, but when she saw the added torment those words caused in his eyes, she flung herself into his arms. “I’m sorry. I won’t say anything else about this. You know what you are doing.”
His arms swept around her. He leaned his face into hers. “My woman, do not ever be sorry about anything you say to me, for everything you say is from the heart,” he said passionately. “And I understand how you must want this thing finished once and for all. But I do need this time.”
“And I promise you that you will not hear another word from me about it,” Marsha murmured.
Realizing the music was over and the dancing had stopped, and that everyone should now be entering the council house to eat the feast that had been set out by all of the women of the village, Swift Horse took Marsha by the hand. “We must join the others again,” he said, already walking away from the corral with her.
“Everyone will wonder where we went, and why,” Marsha said, remembering how everyone had watched him leave, and then feeling those same eyes on her as she left.
“But no one will ask,” Swift Horse said tightly. “They know that their chief would leave the celebration only if he felt a strong need to. No one questions what I do, or why.”
“Except me,” Marsha said, giving him an apologetic look as his eyes met with hers.
“You are my woman and should have the freedom to question me about anything,” he said, then forced a smile when he came to a small crowd of his people who had not yet entered the huge council house to join the others to eat. “The corn awaits us,” Swift Horse said, gesturing toward the opened council house door, where the scent of an assortment of food wafted from within. They all went inside.
Soon Marsha and Swift Horse were sitting amidst everyone else, their wooden trays piled with an assortment of food, corn the most prominent.
Marsha now knew also about Sofkee, a gruel or soup, to which pieces of venison were added. She knew now that hardly a Creek household was without a Sofkee pot.
She knew that sunflower seeds and honey from bee trees were a favorite among the Creek community and that sweet potatoes were almost as important as corn, delicious when nuts were added to the sweet potato dishes.
“My brother, I saw you leave,” Soft Wind said as she came and sat beside Swift Horse. “Is everything all right now?”