Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Let neither cold, hunger nor pain, nor the fear of them, neither the bristling teeth of danger nor the very jaws of death itself, prevent you from doing a good deed.
— CHARLES A. EASTMAN, THE SOUL OF AN INDIAN
Several hours later Swift Hawk sat up, away from her. Angelia immediately pulled him back.
“Where are you going?”
He leaned over her and pushed a lock of hair from her face. Then he kissed her. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was.” She gazed up at him, her eyes searching his, as though by a look alone she would determine his thoughts. But his glance revealed nothing, so again, she asked, “Where are you going?”
He sighed. “I am leaving here to see if I can discover what has happened to your brother. It is my hope that he has made fresh tracks now that the rain has stopped.”
She nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
“No. It would be better if you stay here. You can watch over the pony.”
“You are not taking your pony?”
“No. I will be scouting. A scout usually travels afoot—in this way, he may go unnoticed by any wandering war party.”
“Ah. But it is night, Swift Hawk. How can you look for a trail at night?”
He shrugged. “It will be difficult, but it is not impossible, and it is safer to do this at night.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because few are about at this time, and also a scout is harder to see, harder to recognize.”
“But—”
He placed a finger over her lips. “I will return to you before the light of dawn. If your brother is in trouble, I will help him and bring him here. If he is not in trouble, I will return to you alone, and we will seek him out together…but let us do this tomorrow. Now I would ask that you go back to sleep.”
Stubbornly, she shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. I would go with you.”
He sat for a moment as though in thought.
After a while, he nodded. “I understand, and I should have expected as much from you. It is said that strong women will sometimes do this. And if this be the case with you, I will not stop you, my wife. But know that your presence could hinder me in my search, for I would need to be constantly alert for enemies, much more so than I would be if I were on my own.”
“But I don’t understand. Wouldn’t I help you?”
“You always help me,” he replied diplomatically.
“But because you are a novice, I will have to ensure that your trail, as well as mine, is erased from the land. And I will need to account for your mistakes in leaving tracks and calling attention to us, for you will make these mistakes. And I would keep you safe. So, by all means, come, but it might take me longer to find your brother.”
“Oh.” Angelia bit her lip, her brow furrowed into a scowl. “If I stay here, do you think you can find his trail—tonight?”
“Haa’he. It is possible.”
“Then I will stay and, as you asked, I will watch over the pony.” She grinned.
He nodded in response. “That is good. Now, go back to sleep. I must prepare myself to leave here.”
“Prepare?”
“A scout does not go forth on a mission without disguising himself. There is some danger on the prairie.”
“Disguise?”
“Haa’he.”
“As what? What guise do you use when you scout?”
“That depends on where I am scouting,” he said. “On the plains a scout will often disguise himself as a wolf. However, in the desert, I might use a different means to conceal myself, and certainly I would do so in a wooded area, where one should look more like a bush than an animal.”
“Really? And how do you do this? Disguise yourself? I mean, since you scout mostly on the prairie, do you carry a wolf skin in your bag?”
“Sometimes I do. But I did not bring this with me. I will use mud from the stream, instead.”
“Mud?”
“Haa’he, do you wish to watch me prepare?”
“Yes, husband,” she said, still grinning. “I think that I do.”
Swift Hawk sat up, reaching a hand down to help her. “Come, we will go to the water, and I will show you how I become a wolf.”
Angelia agreed, and keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around her, she crawled out of their lean-to and followed him to the water.
The rain had stopped, the clouds had disappeared and at present, a crescent moon lit up the night sky.
It was not a cool evening, even though the rain had fallen long and hard.
Rather, it was pleasing. However, her feet, which were shoeless, met with mud every place she stepped, the stuff oozing through her toes.
At last, however, they had tiptoed to the river. While Swift Hawk bent down to grab a handful of mud, she gazed up into the star-littered sky.
“Look,” she said. “There’s the Big Dipper.”
“Where?” he asked.
She pointed.
“Ah, that is known to the Cheyenne as the Seven Brothers.”
“Seven Brothers?”
“Haa’he, seven brothers and a sister. They escaped from a herd of wild buffalo by climbing a tall tree. But the buffalo tried to knock down their tree, and in defense, the brothers and their sister took refuge in the sky, where they remain to this very day.”
“Hmmm.” She squatted beside him and hugged her knees. “What a wonderful legend.”
“Yes, and there are many more legends I could tell you. Someday I will.”
“Yes. Someday.” She glanced at him, and her eyes widened in some alarm. “Swift Hawk, what are you doing?”
“I am painting myself.”
“With mud?”
He shot her a lopsided grin. “Watch closely and see how this mud will harden on my body. For when it is dry, it is a similar color to the prairie wolf.”
“A prairie wolf? Ah, I see. So by caking mud on yourself, you become a wolf?”
“Haa’he. Watch.”
She did. Indeed, when he painted himself with the stuff—sometimes trading the mud for ash, which was supplied to him by their fire—she could begin to see the transformation.
Bending, she put a finger-streak of mud on her arm and watched it as it dried.
Interesting. It did actually resemble the color of the wolf.
Meanwhile, Swift Hawk was covering every inch of himself with the muck, even going so far as to create wolf ears on top of his head. When at last the deed was done, he crouched next to her, looking, in her estimation, half human, half wolf.
“Do you see how it is done?”
“I do, indeed. But I have a question, for you forgot one thing, I think.”
He glanced at her. “Did I?”
“Yes. And it is something of importance.”
He raised that eyebrow of his.
“It is this: How do I kiss you goodbye?”
“Kiss?”
“Yes, I would not send you out alone on the prairie without a kiss.”
He grinned. Even beneath the disguise of mud and gook, she could discern his smirk. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he opened his arms wide, inviting her in.
“Now, wait a minute. As it is, I have very little clothing with me. I am not about to muddy this blanket.”
“Then take it off,” he said quietly.
“Take it off?”
He nodded. “If we are to say farewell to each other, then let us do it properly…”
No sooner were the words uttered than she dropped the blanket to the ground, uncaring that the soggy earth would muddy it. She stepped toward him and threw her arms around his neck. “When you leave, you will be careful, will you not?”
He bobbed his head in agreement. “I am a scout. It is in my nature to be careful. But come, I cannot kiss you with mud on my lips. Walk with me to the water while I wash this mud from my mouth.”
“Yes. All right.”
Taking a few necessary paces toward the water, he bent down to wash off his lips. However, in doing so, he somehow splashed water on her.
“Oh! That’s cold. Don’t do that again, please.”
“Do not do what again? You mean this?” He splashed her once more.
“Oh, Swift Hawk, stop that this instant.” She turned away from him, only to feel another splash at her backside.
Spinning back toward him, she said, “Now that will be enough of that. Cease this!” Though she frowned at him and flashed him a warning glance, she had also placed her hand in the water just so, had cupped it and without awaiting his approval, sent a spray of water his way.
She heard his laugh, followed immediately by another splash at her.
“What is this?” She glared at him, but his look at her was innocent. “You realize, of course, that if you keep this up, I will retaliate even more.”
He sprinkled her with yet more water. “I do not know what this word ‘retaliate’ means.”
“It means this,” she instructed, showering him with so much river water the mud began to run off him.
If he were concerned about it, he didn’t show it.
Instead, his laugh was full-hearted and rich, as though he were as carefree as the wind.
In truth, his next action surprised her, for he executed a shallow dive into the water, surfacing quickly.
From this new position, he sent her another spray of water, and it was done so swiftly, she was wet from head to foot before she had realized what had happened.
“Ah! I don’t believe this,” she said. “You know this means war.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he teased her with another light sprinkling.
“Very well. If we’re going to make a battle out of this, there must at least be rules.” She eased herself into the water gradually.
“Rules?” he asked. “There are no rules.”
“Yes, there are,” she insisted. “Because you are bigger and stronger than I am, there have to be rules. Like…” She thought a moment. “Like, you should have one hand tied behind your back. That would make a skirmish between us fairer.”
She stopped long enough to note his response. A mistake.
She was instantly showered.
“Oh.” She sputtered. “That was definitely not fair.”
He grinned. “That is because in a water fight, there are no rules, except this.” And he did it again.
“Swift Hawk!”
“But,” he said in a conciliatory sort of voice, “if you believe I should fight with one arm behind me, I will do it, although I will still win.”
“Humph! We shall see.” She dove into the water. Oh, it was cold, but not as cold as being out of the water, in the wind, and being splashed. As soon as she surfaced, she said, “Now, if we are to fight, what are the stakes to be?”
“Stakes?”