Swift Horse

She recalle

d how she had looked at Swift Horse just after she had been thinking about having children. She marveled even now at the thought, for to have children, you must first love the man who would have a role in bringing these children into the world. A woman must truly and especially trust and respect the man.

Strange how it could happen this quickly, but she knew that her feelings for Swift Horse were those that came with not only being infatuated with a man, but loving him.

“Sis?” Edward said, taking her hands once more. “You’re gone from me again. What were you thinking about?”

Marsha felt the heat of a blush rush to her cheeks. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?” she asked softly as she slid her hands from his. “Didn’t you tell me that you were to meet with Soft Wind after the council? Is she waiting for you?”

“Yes, and I truly must go,” Edward said. “I just wanted to escort you home since you were behaving so oddly.”

“I hope no one else noticed,” Marsha said, then again saw Swift Horse in her mind’s eye and how he had surely seen her infatuation with him those times their eyes had met and momentarily held.

“None know you as well as I, so they would not realize your behavior was different than usual—so, no, I doubt anyone noticed,” Edward James said, reaching for a leather jacket that hung on a peg on the wall just inside the door. “I’ll not be long, sis. I just so enjoy these special, stolen moments with my woman.”

“I’ll make a pot of chili for our supper,” Marsha said, already walking toward their kitchen. She smiled over her shoulder at her brother. “If you wish, bring Soft Wind to sup with us.”

“I doubt she would enjoy chili,” he said, laughing softly. “It is too different from what she normally eats, don’t you think?”

Marsha turned just as Edward James took hold of the latch on the door. “Will she cook when she marries you and moves into your . . . our . . . cabin, or shall I?” she asked, locking her hands behind her.

“I would hope that you would teach each other your own different kitchen secrets,” he said, winking at her.

“We shall,” Marsha said, nodding. “Yes, we shall.”

Edward James gave her another wink, then left.

Marsha sighed and went to the window. She saw how night had come quickly with its moon and stars. She thought about where her brother was going—to have a tryst with his beloved.

“Oh, how I wish it were me going to meet Swift Horse,” she whispered to herself, her heart doing a strange sort of flip-flop when she saw Swift Horse step up to the great outdoor fire and begin talking with two of his warriors.

In the moonlight, and with his profile defined by the bright glow of the fire, he made her heart melt.

Chapter 7

It is, past escape,

Herself, now: the dream is done

And the shadow and she are one.

—Robert Browning

The hunt had only just begun a few days ago and already many Indians from other villages were at Marsha’s brother’s trading post, making trade. Even caravans of white traders, with their pack-horsemen to tend the animals, were there.

Marsha had watched the white traders coming into the village and noticed that the packhorses were small, but Edward James had told her that they were capable of sustaining heavy loads and enduring great fatigue.

Each pony carried three bundles on its back, and as the loads were unpacked Marsha saw that they contained a wide variety of goods. There were blankets to be used in winter and cloth for clothing, beads and vermilion for decoration.

In return, the Creek brought dressed deerskins to trade, as well as venison meat. Some had freshly picked herbs that the white settlers coveted or wild honey and beeswax gathered from the forest. There were also medicinal roots and hickory nut oil. Many of the women brought beautifully woven baskets and pottery to the trading post.

Since so many had arrived at Swift Horse’s village to trade, Marsha had no choice but to help her brother in the store. She had learned quickly enough to give her brother the assistance he needed at a time when, if he didn’t have help, he would lose much money.

She hurried through the motions of what was required of her to get her through this day, wishing to be back in the privacy of their home, away from those who were not of this village.

She couldn’t feel comfortable in the crowded store. Those who had killed her parents could be among the traders, pretending to be friendly, whereas in truth, they would as soon kill her brother and her as look at them.

She had hoped that Swift Horse would come today for trade, for she had thought he would be among his warriors on the hunt. But her brother had said that others were hunting, while he remained in the village to be sure no one came into their fold who were not supposed to be there. She hadn’t seen him at all, but knew that he must be keeping a close watch from his cabin as people came and went to trade.