Mariah smiled to herself, feeling anything but manly today. In her mind’s eye she replayed last night’s love scene, thrilling inside as though she were experiencing it again at this very moment.
And the dress she wore today was so utterly feminine—fashioned from snow-white doeskin, designed intricately with many-colored beads, and fitting her snugly, like a glove. She knew that Echohawk would be quite taken by her appearance if he could see clearly.
She glanced at him again, saddened by his impaired eyesight.
Not wanting to get into feelings again that could ruin this special time with Echohawk, though, she wrenched her eyes away from him and blocked out sad thoughts by observing the wonders of this land that lay on all sides of her. The sunrise mist was hanging above the river and somber hills. Small cottonwood trees of sleepy sparrows swayed in the morning wind. Two pheasants stood in a forest of sunflowers. And broad, jagged leaves of wild grape vines rustled in the wind.
Mariah’s lips parted with a gasp when not so far in the distance she saw what looked like hundreds of antelope and buffalo grazing amidst patches of red, brown, and gold wildflowers called gaillardias, or Indian blankets.
She was not at all surprised when Echohawk reached a hand toward her as he drew his horse to a shuddering halt.
“Do my eyes see correctly?” he said, squinting as he peered ahead. “Is that not many buffalo grazing in that valley?”
“Buffalo and antelope,” Mariah said, still marveling at the sight. “Echohawk, I have never seen so many!”
“That is good,” Echohawk said, smiling confidently. He motioned with a hand. “Mah-bee-szhon, come. We shall settle ourselves close by until one strays from the others. Then I will show you the worth of my spear!”
“It is the buffalo you are hunting today?” Mariah said, paling. “Now I understand why you didn’t tell me earlier. You were afraid that I would try to talk you out of corning.”
“And was I right to think that?” Echohawk said, his lips tugging into a smile. “Would you have tried to convince me not to come?”
“You know that I would have,” Mariah said, sighing heavily. “And it is not too late to turn back. Echohawk, I have never killed a buffalo before. And what if your eyes aren’t as accurate as when hunting birds? When missed, birds do not attack. Buffalo do! Certainly I am not the right person to back you up, should you miss.”
“But the size of the prey counts for something valuable,” Echohawk tried to convince her. “Do you not recall my accuracy at shooting the blue-winged teal? It was small, Mariah, and we carried one home for a hearty meal, did we not? The buffalo is a large beast, making a wide target. When I aim, I will not miss. I am very practiced, so much so that even if I closed my eyes, I would still find the animal with my spear. I have brought home many buffalo for my people in my lifetime. They find many uses of the buffalo, not only for food but also for household utensils.”
“But, Echohawk, still—”
Echohawk interrupted. “Now, follow me. We shall position ourselves down by the river. When a buffalo strays and comes to the river for a drink of water, we shall be there, ready.”
Knowing that it was no use to try to argue further with him, Mariah followed his lead and led her horse to a narrow steep-sided ravine and dismounted. She and Echohawk secured their horses behind a boulder and thick stands of forsythia bushes, then hurried away from them and crouched down in the ravine, scarcely visible.
In the ravine, the river only footsteps away behind her, Mariah thought the air seemed colder, sending chills across her flesh. She hugged herself, her teeth chattering, then was warmed clear through when Echohawk placed his arm around her and drew her next to him. In his other hand he held the spear.
“Wi-yee-bah, soon,” he whispered. “We will have company soon. There is always a curious one that strays from the others. If not for a drink of water, just to see if the grass is greener. The mild weather has kept the buffalo close by, and made hunting easier.”
; “How will you know it is near if we cannot see it?” Mariah worried aloud. “I . . . I do not feel at all comfortable about this, Echohawk.”
“No-din, have faith in your man,” Echohawk said, placing a finger beneath her chin, drawing her face around. He squinted in concentration, again so wishing that he could see her features! In his mind’s eye he had already seen her—but that was not enough.
Mariah searched his face, then looked intensely into his dark eyes, seeing their blankness as he peered down at her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t mean to make you feel less a man by my complaining. Forgive me, Echohawk.”
His mouth covering her lips in a passionately hot kiss was his response. His kiss was all-consuming, setting fires within her that threatened to rob her of her senses. She was relieved when he drew away from her, her heart having almost gone out of control with its erratic beatings.
“No more talk now,” he said, smoothing a hand across her cheek. “We must be quiet or the buffalo will go elsewhere.”
Mariah nodded and knelt beside him, quietly admiring Echohawk, both for his determination to prove his worth even with half his eyesight, and because he was so magnificent to look at, especially now, as he moved not a muscle, only the wind lifting a lock of his hair, then laying it back along his neck. His jaw was tight with determination, his eyes two points of fire.
Oh, how she loved him . . . how she admired him!
Echohawk scarcely breathed, taut with the excitement of the hunt. He felt as though he were the lord of the universe. For him the universe was this landscape today, the vast Minnesota wilderness. For him there was no possibility of existence elsewhere.
Suddenly there was a blowing—a rumble of breath deeper than the wind.
Wide-eyed, her heart racing, Mariah looked quickly over at Echohawk, then looked up when overhead some of the hard clay of the bank broke off and some clods rolled down, scarcely missing hers and Echohawk’s heads.
“It is here,” Echohawk said in a whisper that resembled a hiss. “Do not move, No-din. Just watch.”