CHAPTER EIGHT #2
"Why, it is from Mária Fehér, herself. Indeed, if my man does not object, I can teach you this dance, the waltz, though we would have to go outside. Do you object, my husband?"
"I do not. Although I might like to learn this dance, too. May I learn it, as well?"
Eagle Heart's smile at his wife held such affection that, for a moment, Red Fox could not look away. Oh, that his own future lodge with Poka'aki could be so full of love.
"Of course you may. If you will come with us, it will be easier for me to teach our young friend this beautiful dance because we can demonstrate it to him."
"Then, we shall do it. Let us retire at once to the hills around us while the sun is still high in the sky. It is there where we can more easily learn these steps without other eyes looking upon us."
As Eagle Heart and his wife exchanged a sincere and loving smile, Red Fox, seeing it, took courage. All in camp admired this woman and this couple. Nittá'p, witnessing such a union between these two people, who were from so very different cultures, gave Red Fox hope.
****
Grasping hold of the parfleche tube he had tied onto his pony, Red Fox took out his white buckskin clothing and shook out the garments.
These were his best, his fanciest, buckskin clothing.
They had been given to him by his grandfather upon the first event of Red Fox having publicly healed a rich man's pony, it having become lame because of a disease upon its leg.
His grandfather had been a bigger man than he, and several snows ago, Red Fox had cut, sewn and tailored the clothing to fit his own frame.
Red Fox shook out the stunningly white buckskin clothing and inspected the regalia to ensure every feather in the headdress was neatly in place.
He then looked over the beadwork to ensure each bead was still firmly sewn into the leather and was not likely to fall off.
Standing upon a shady patch of ground within an outgrowth of pines growing atop one of the numerous buttes overlooking the Féher ranch, Red Fox inspected the white buckskin leather shirt with blue-and-white-beaded "V" shapes falling down over the shoulder straps. All were intact.
He then put his attention on the cloth breechcloth, the white leggings and moccasins, all beaded in the same design as the shoulder straps.
Leather fringe about eight inches in length, as well as long locks of black hair scattered in amongst the buckskin fringe, fell from each sleeve.
The same fringe lined each seam of the leggings of the regalia.
A looping white-beaded necklace which would fall from his neck was unbroken, while the headdress of eagle tail feathers stood straight up, then fell all the way to the ground.
Two long ermine furs were attached to the bonnet in front; these would fall over the shoulders.
The strip of beadwork in front of the headdress was in the same style as the shoulder straps.
Niitá'p, this regalia was the best clothing he possessed, and what an honor it had been when his grandfather had passed these clothes down to him.
As Red Fox donned the clothing, he listened to the strains of what he knew to be the white man's music. It was quite pretty. The sound was floating up to where he was standing, up high upon a ledge of a cliff overlooking the Fehér ranch.
Picking up his rifle, which he kept in a beautifully beaded parfleche case—a present from his sister—he turned around and climbed to the top of the cliff.
The prairie stretched out from behind him, requiring him to step up a little before he could stride out upon the flat plains toward the spot where he had left his pony.
Ensuring his pony was not hungry and had plenty of grass to eat here within a growth of pines, he satisfied himself that his pony would be well hidden, this especially so because Hunts-with-the-wind would keep watch over the animal.
Breathing in deeply, Red Fox then retraced his steps and set off on foot down toward the party.
****
Watching the dancers from the patio outside the ballroom, Red Fox felt definitely the outsider.
He, alone, was outfitted in Pikuni garb.
And, the others? They were beautifully dressed, yes, exactly as Eagle Heart's woman had said they would be.
But, all here wore white man's clothing, since his relatives—with the exception of George and his wife—had left earlier in the day to rejoin the Pikuni encampment.
Even the "hang around the fort" Indians were clothed in white-man’s garb.
Where is she?
Although Red Fox had a long acquaintance with the white man's fashion sense, as well as his dances, he had never seen this kind of smooth gliding where it looked as if the men and women were floating in each other's arms around and around in a circle upon the dance floor.
Silently, he thanked the wife of Eagle Heart for instructing him in the steps of the waltz.
He had witnessed, of course, the jig, the polka and even several Indian dances from other tribes that included both men and women dancing, but never had he borne witness to such graceful movements nor had he observed the intimate way in which the men and women held one another.
Watching the couples' movements as they whirled around the dance floor, he was captivated for several moments until he realized he still could not find Poka'aki.
Where is she?
Catching a glimpse of George waltzing with his wife, Red Fox felt himself relax. Here was something familiar; people he knew and loved.
Stepping proudly inside this place of music and dancing, he became unusually aware that he at once garnered a great deal of attention. People even gasped. Then he saw these same people turn inward to make groups where they talked amongst themselves and pointed toward him.
Perhaps this was done to cause him to feel uncomfortable, but it had the opposite effect over him. It empowered him, knowing how rude and crude were these people who could not even hide their curiosity, if this were what it was.
It wasn't as if the Indian people weren't also curious about these newcomers into their country, but they did not stare, nor so openly would they point at a person and then turn to gossip amongst themselves.
Was this aloofness and rumor mongering the sort of thing Poka'aki had been forced to endure in her exile from her home? If so, was there any wonder why she had agreed to a proposition that would enable her to leave there?
Ah, there she is.
So beautiful was she, he caught his breath as he recalled his youthful fear of her because of her beauty.
She was wearing a dress in a light shade of pink that accented her figure in front, but was puffed out in back with what must have been yards and yards of material.
It was trimmed in a deep color of red, and it seemed to shimmer in a cascade of waves as it fell to the floor.
The shoulders of her dress fell down her arms, leaving the top of her breasts, her neck and her upper arms bare.
A ribbon in the same color of deep red was tied around her neck, and the length of it fell down the dress in back.
And, as she swirled around the floor in the arms of a man, the dark-red ribbon which fell down in back of her, swayed to and fro.
Her hair was caught up on top of her head, while curls of her dark, auburn hair fell over her shoulders. A tiny pink hat covered the top of her tresses.
He couldn't remember seeing her so beautifully dressed. And, for a moment, an odd feeling come over him: would he ever be able to give her such riches? Worse, having now tasted this kind of life, would she require them?
He shrugged off the thought and studied the man who held her in his arms, and, as Red Fox witnessed the man's possessive grip on her, Red Fox realized this had to be the man she was being required to marry.
The gentleman was not an unhandsome fellow, though he possessed facial hair above his lips, a feature both Indian men and women abhorred.
He stepped farther into the room and took in the measure of this fellow holding Poka'aki.
Although Red Fox longed to fade into the scenery in this place, he could not.
Realizing his countenance and dress were too different and too exotic for those around him to act politely, he ignored their whispering and pointed glances.
Indeed, he concentrated on studying this man, Maximillian.
If he were to envision a way to release his woman from this person's grip, Red Fox needed to understand Maxmillian as well as he knew himself.
The man was slender, tall, although perhaps a little shorter than he, Red Fox.
The fellow, however, kept glancing to the east side of the dance floor instead of giving his beautiful partner all of the attention she deserved.
Looking to the eastern side of the dance floor, Red Fox saw the reason for it: a pretty young woman with the pale color of hair that was so rare upon these plains stood there, the object of this man's attention.
Remembering what Poka'aki had said about the man possessing a mistress, Red Fox surmised this woman had to be Maximillian’s undeclared sits-beside-him-woman.
And, though she was stunningly pretty with her blonde curls and blue eyes, there was a catch in her eye and a quality about her countenance that was not pretty.
And, worse, she stared at Poka'aki with a look that was hardly likeable.
Watching the interplay between this woman and the man who was dancing with Poka'aki, Red Fox knew it was only a matter of a few moments before he, Red Fox, would intercede.
As soon as the music of the dance ended, Red Fox paced forward and into the crowd of dancers, his steps taking him directly to Poka'aki and the gentleman, who, at this very moment, had laid his hand upon the small of Poka'aki's back.