CHAPTER SEVEN
An accompaniment of two string violins, a piano and a guitar rang out a Strauss waltz, its strains fluttering through the warm, dry evening air.
No one was about except the musicians, who were practicing for the dance that was yet to come this very night.
It was still too early in the evening for the party to begin.
Stepping out onto the dance floor of a ballroom with no ceiling, Briella swayed to the engaging music.
Looking up, she beheld a few courageous stars shining above her in an ever-darkening sky.
Returning her glance to the ballroom, she saw twenty or more torches along the walls of the dance floor; those lamps, already lit, shone their light upon the wooden floor of the ballroom.
Yes indeed, her parents had built this ballroom during the two years of her absence. Had they fashioned this place of beauty knowing she would not return here unless she would promise to marry a man of quality? Were their expectations the reason for the beautifully decorated ballroom?
Briella glanced toward the front of the hall to where it adjoined the rest of the house.
There were only two entryways into the ballroom; one at the far wall away from the house, and the other was at the front entrance closest to the house.
Briella took notice of one of the side walls where a large, perhaps seven-foot high, white statue of a man and a beautifully dressed woman were engaged in the sport of dancing.
At the front of the hall and in between the two sides of the room, a platform was constructed about five feet high from the floor; this was where the musicians sat.
At the opposite end of the room, large glass doors were built into the wall there and opened up onto an extensive wooden patio, built, perhaps, for those who wished to appreciate the night air.
Other stone sculptures decorated each wall of the ballroom, some being little more than simply crafted stone balls, some others depicting the images of buffalo, antelope, bears and even moose.
Who was the artist? She would have to ask her mother, or perhaps George might know. She would never ask her father.
Continuing her inspection of the ballroom, she saw the floor was not made of dirt, unlike the open-air interior of Fort Benton, where dances were often held as an event meant to welcome newcomers into the territory.
Instead, the floor covering her parents' ballroom was made of a glazed wood, perhaps cottonwood, since it was abundant in the timber leading down to the Marias River.
In addition to the gentle music, a slightly sweet fragrance caught her attention: the scent of fresh sage.
Looking more closely at the walls, she espied large decoratively wrapped bundles of sage hanging from each wall.
It was an unexpected touch of the American Indian here in a hall of European design.
Briella felt on the brink of grief. All this had been done for her engagement to an aristocratic-seeking man who did not care for her.
It was a waste. How different it would be if her father cared as much for her as he did for their family's Hungarian lineage…
and of course for the gold that would line his coffers.
Still, despite these last two years, she sincerely wished she weren't at odds with her father. Didn't a daughter love and respect the man who had been a part of her life since birth?
And yet, how could she respect her father? He, who had practically kidnapped her in order to prevent her from marrying a man he did not believe was worthy of her.
Well, she wouldn't, she couldn't, respect him, though she wished she could. Oh, what a mess she was in.
Red Fox had solicited her agreement to refrain from marrying Maximillian.
And, of course she wished to keep her word of honor.
But, how was she to do it? And, was she a terrible person for complying with his request to delay the problem for as long as possible?
After all, she had promised to marry Maxmillian.
And, the Indian side of her upbringing believed that breaking a promise once given was akin to a crime.
Oh, how could her father have done what he did? Did he not understand?
Had he never burned from the need that loving someone so much brought? Had he never experienced the ache and the desire to be with the other both physically and soulfully?
Perhaps he had once loved a woman other than Briella's mother?
Could this be why he did not understand Briella's rebellion?
True, her father had been educated to believe love and marriage did not necessarily go together.
And, being a man, he could have sought out another woman he might have loved, and have done so without penalty.
This line of thinking, however, brought to mind another curiosity: had her mother loved another man besides the aristocrat she had been required to marry? And, if she had, would she understand Briella's stand against her father?
Oh, how she wished to proclaim her love of Red Fox to the entire world.
But, she now understood there were more problems involved with not only her own parents, but perhaps with his parents, as well.
Hadn't Red Fox let fall a hint of this when they had last spoken?
Although, being male, he would not have much difficulty in marrying her despite their disapproval.
Looking forward again, she saw there on the raised platform an elder gentleman she did not know playing the piano, while an engagée whom she knew was the tailor for the fort was improvising on the violin and another gentleman was strumming the guitar.
The last gentleman who was playing the other violin, she did not know.
But, she paused a moment to wonder what the cost might have been to have had the piano shipped out to this remote spot in the Indian Territory.
The song they were playing was enchanting, and even though her thoughts were considerable, she swayed to the gentle strains of the Strauss waltz.
Closing her eyes, she daydreamed a little, and, bending down in a curtsy, she pretended Red Fox had learned the steps of a waltz and was here before her asking her to dance.
She smiled up at the vision she imagined was before her. And, raising her arms to place them around her make-believe partner, she began to dance. Around and around the dance floor, she swayed to the three-quarter beat, pretending it was Red Fox holding her.
So real was her fantasy, she was surprised when she felt very real arms come around her waist and then take her hand into his own. Red Fox?
Smiling, she glanced up, startled when she saw it was her father who was partnering with her in the dance. He smiled down at her. She looked away.
No words were spoken. It was a tense moment between father and daughter, but rather than make a scene and estrange her parent even further, she accepted his lead. However, she refused to gaze up into his eyes.
"Do you like it, our new ballroom?" he asked her. When Briella didn't answer, her father went on to say, "I had it built in your honor."
At present, her feelings were so mixed up with conflicting emotions, she was immediately overcome with anger toward this man.
Indeed, she did not know how to answer his question, and it was some time before she could respond, and even then, she could not do so without stating the truth.
Refusing to dance with him any further, Briella stopped, dropped her arms and backed up from this man who was her father.
She said, "Papa, there is nothing you can ever do to cause me to forget that you are forcing me to marry a man I do not love and whom I will never love.
I fear you have betrayed me as no one else could ever do.
And, yet you expect me to love and respect you despite the grief you have caused not only to me, but to Red Fox and his family, as well? "
Her father did not answer for several moments. After a while, however, he responded to her accusation and said, "I hear that his family is as much against him marrying you as I am against your marrying him. Perhaps more so, and with good reason."
"I do not believe it!"
"Ask Red Fox yourself," her father clipped. "I believe he might attend the dance tonight. And, it is I you should thank for extending an invitation to him. It was, after all, I who asked him to come here tonight, though your mother wrote the note."
"How kind of you!" Briella added with a good amount of sarcasm in the words.
"It was also I who had this ballroom built specifically for you and your new husband. I have envisioned the wedding taking place here."
How could he mention so glibly an event he knew would break her heart?
Briella had been at the point of tears, and with these last words from her father making it seem as if she were to blame for all the trouble in her heart, she burst into tears, and it was between sobs when she managed to ask, "How could you do this, say this to me, without any emotion whatsoever?
You know I am in love with Red Fox, and I always will be. "
"Enough!" said her father. "I do not wish to hear that man's name again in my home. If you wish to speak about him, you must do so somewhere else besides my home."
"It is my home, too, Father," Briella countered.
"And, whether you wish it to be or not, I am in love with this man whose name you have this moment forbidden me to speak.
He has saved my life on more than one occasion.
And, only a few nights ago, he saved the lives of your own children and grandchildren. How can you be so unfeeling?"
"I am not unfeeling, and do not ever say this is so again! But, I will do my duty to you and see you properly married."