Lakota Surrender (14 page)

“Welcome back, my brother,” Wahtapah said. “Come sit with us and smoke.”

Tahiska did as asked, placing his pipe before him and the other object to his side. As he lay it down, he accidentally pulled one of the strings and the object made odd sounds. At once he remembered where he had seen it before: at the wedding.

He peered at his friends. “Kristina has been here?”

“She was here the first day you were gone.” It was Neeheeowee who spoke. “She waited. She paced; she played this song-maker; she spoke with us. She has asked about you many times. She did not come today. I think she worries about you.”

Tahiska nodded.

“It is good she was here,” he said. “It shows she does not fear us.”

“Why would she be afraid?” Neeheeowee asked. “We have done nothing to her or her people.”

“Have you not noticed, my friend, how the white man fears us? He takes our weapons when we visit, yet parades his own in front of us. Why would he do this, if he is not afraid
?
He tries to make us feel inferior. He has often sold the firewater to our people to make them crazy. Why would he do this, if not from fear that we are superior? Do not doubt that the white man is afraid. But not Kristina. She has always been brave.”

Wahtapah laughed.

“You miss the point, my brother,” he said. “She was here not to show bravery but to find you. She seemed agitated. Perhaps you will not find her amenable.”

Both men laughed.

Tahiska smiled. He was an Indian, free to roam and do as he pleased. He was answerable to no one and asked permission from no one. The thought of needing to tell anyone, even a loved one, his whereabouts was so foreign to him, the idea never even formed in his mind. That Kristina had worried about him pleased him. He had many gifts for her. He wanted to see her smile.

He would go to her immediately. And despite his friends’ opinions, he was sure he would find Kristina sweet and patiently awaiting his return. It was, after all, what he would expect from an Indian maiden…

Kristina, however, was not pleased. She was deeply worried and hadn’t slept well since Tahiska had disappeared. Where had he gone? Why? Dark circles rimmed her eyes and worry lines creased her forehead. Her hair, usually shiny with health, hung limply down her back.

She paced in front of the bed.

What had happened to him? He said he had enemies in this country. Did he lie lifeless somewhere on the prairie? Should she try to find him?

She hadn’t seen him since the evening of the wedding party. They had spoken of love. He had been so kind and gentle, she’d been sure he meant everything he’d said. Yet, now he was gone. He had left without a goodbye, without even a word. Had he kissed her and run? Perhaps his feelings for her were not as she had believed. Did Indians speak lightly of love?

Of one thing Kristina was certain: she loved Tahiska. With every ounce of her being, she loved him. And with this love came other desires: she wanted to be near him always. She wanted to marry him, live with him, bear his children. A wave of pure desire swept through her with the thought of children, their children. But this image was sketchy, and filling out the details created a myriad of questions. Where would they live? Would Tahiska expect her to adopt the Indian way of life? And if he did, could she bear to leave her home? Or would he yield to her society and reside at the fort? Would she want him to sacrifice his identity for her and risk rejection by a world that saw the Indians as heathens and savages?

Was she playing with fire? Perhaps, yet she was unable to stop herself. She thought of him constantly and wanted more than anything else to share her life with him. But was she equally willing, if he should ask it of her, to give up her own world? It wasn’t perfect, but there were things she liked here: the feel of silken clothing, the thrill of music, the warmth of a candlelight dinner—even her terrible, old, hard bed. If she were to live with the Indians, she would have to sleep on the ground, which was something she couldn’t fathom. The more Kristina considered these things, the more she was certain she could not leave her own world behind.

And yet she loved him as she loved life itself.

But she couldn’t bear to think what her lifestyle would do to him. There was not a white man at this fort who would accept the Indian on the same level as himself. Look at the Indians who had tried to live like the whites: where once they were active, they now were crippled; where originally they were rich, living upon their own land, they now were poor and beggars within their own country. Whereas once they were free, now many were enslaved. She couldn’t do that to Tahiska. He was happy, healthy, and utterly independent. She couldn’t allow him to be otherwise.

Suddenly, she saw the situation for what it was: an unsolvable dilemma. But perhaps she worried for nothing.

Tahiska was gone. For whatever reason, he had left, and she couldn’t be sure he would ever return. It was entirely possible that he didn’t share her feelings, and if he didn’t, her worry was misplaced.

Her heart wrenched. Had she merely been a challenge he couldn’t resist?

Kristina flung herself across the bed. No tears would come, yet she could find no peace. More than ever she needed him here with her, dispelling her fears, calming her nerves.

Suddenly she smiled. An image of Tahiska flashed through her mind: his hand over hers, spreading her fingers over his chest, pressing her hand to his heart. Though he had not said the words “I love you,” he had done better. He had shown her that he cared. Every action he’d taken had spoken of devotion just as strongly as words. He was a man of honor. He would not do these things if his feelings were not genuine.

She flopped over and stared up at the ceiling. She couldn’t sit and wait for word of him. She would have to search for him. She would never know peace until she discovered what had happened to him. Tomorrow, she would find her father, she would beg for his help, and she hoped he would somehow understand.

This decided, she closed her eyes, praying she would finally find solace in sleep. But it was not to be. She twisted, she turned, she got up and paced.

When the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Kristina finally found release and dozed.

The lyrical notes of a flute teased her into semi-consciousness. It was a strange melody, rather exotic. She rolled over to catch more of the unusual song, but it was gone, and she quickly drifted back to sleep.

She awoke to a kiss, or at least she thought she did.

“Tahiska?” It was a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she were awake or dreaming. His clean scent reached out to her, along with the smell of deerskin. She tried to open her eyes, but in her exhaustion, they wouldn’t obey her command. Her eyelids fluttered, then closed, but it was enough to register the image of him. He was leaning over her, smiling…

She smiled back in response. “You came back. You’re safe.”

She tried to touch him, but when she reached up to pull him down to her, her hands met with nothing but empty space, and they flopped back down to her sides.

It was several moments before she felt the massage, first her feet, up over her calves, under her nightdress, over her thighs, her hips. She was aware of her nightdress being pulled up and she stretched, luxuriating in the sensation.

There wasn’t an inch of her that went untouched. She arched her back with the embrace while unconsciously she parted her thighs. Even the part of her that was most intimate was not forgotten, and she squirmed with the thrill of it.

He rolled her over, continuing his roving caress across her buttocks and up her back. Even her head, her scalp was massaged.

Up and down, his hands worked over her body until she thought she would burst with pleasure.

“Tahiska,” she whispered and turned once again onto her back. She was now sufficiently alert to open her eyes, and this time she caught a good glimpse of him.

He looked magnificent, dressed richly in his white shirt with porcupine quilling. Colored beads hung from his ears while around his neck hung a single tooth on a buckskin cord, and in his eyes was a look of love. Pure love. For her.

“Thank God you’re safe.” This time when she reached for him, she grasped firm, sculpted arms and pulled him down to her.

The deerskin against her bare flesh felt like soft butter. It took her a while to realize her nightgown had been discarded.

He kissed her, his teeth nipping at the corners of her mouth. He caressed her face, smoothing the lines on her brow, fingering the dark circles under her eyes. He brushed her ears with his lips, then nibbled at her lobes. He kissed his way down from her chin to her neck. She moaned and wiggled beneath him.

He uttered not a sound and, at length, he straightened up to stare at her naked form cushioned upon the white man’s bed. He suddenly had need of a cold swim—an icy cold swim. His control was being tested, and at the moment he was not sure he could suppress his urge, though he knew he must.

He would not disgrace her.

To Tahiska the human body was beautiful in its natural state and it saddened him to have to hide her perfection beneath the nightdress, but still he slipped it back over her body.

Bending, he kissed her again; then clasping her hand in his, he pressed the odd-looking instrument he had played for her into her palm. Shaped like a bird with its beak open at the bottom, it sang like a flute and, for the man who knew its melodies, it held great medicine over women. He closed her fingers around it and, turning away, stole from the room as silently as he had come.

Tahiska was a man of action. Having regained control of himself, he stood in the sun awaiting Kristina’s father. He noted the soldiers lining up in neat rows before him, but seeing no immediate danger, spared them but a glance.

Kristina. His mind centered on her. The deep circles under her eyes, the lines between her brows, her utter exhaustion had not escaped his notice. His friends said she had worried over him. He had no wish to cause her unnecessary concern. In the future, he would assuage her fears before they escalated.

He refocused his attention on the matter at hand when a soldier motioned to him. Tahiska followed the man into the major’s quarters and strode boldly to the center of the room. Taking the buffalo robe from around his shoulders, he spread it on the floor in front of him. Upon the robe he positioned the newly acquired skins.

Stepping back, he wished Kristina’s father good morning.

Major Bogard rose to his feet and walked around his desk.

He stood in front of it, both feet apart, hands upon his hips. During the few visits the Indian had made to the fort, the major had come to respect him. Without question, the man was honorable, trustworthy, and truthful. Tahiska was a true gentleman and, if he had been anything but Indian, the major would have trusted him with his life.

It was unusual that the Indian sought him out, since he rarely recognized anyone but Kristina as interpreter.

“Good morning, my friend,” the major signed. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Tahiska smiled. The major was taken aback. Not once in all these weeks had any of the three Indians showed emotion.

“My father,” Tahiska began. “Your possessions are many. Mine are few, but treasured. Please accept this buffalo robe and these skins as a tribute of my respect.”

A bugle sounded outside, temporarily interrupting Tahiska.

“Your daughter, Kris-tee-na,” he pronounced her name aloud, “has proven to be a great interpreter as well as a true friend.”

Throughout Tahiska’s oration, there were several knocks upon the major’s door, but both soldier and Indian ignored the distractions. The major knew well that in Indian councils and discourse, one was never interrupted. Even an enemy was allowed to speak fully without comment. Tahiska, therefore, did not rush his words.

“I wish to honor both your daughter and you,” he continued, “and I hope you will accept these gifts as a token of my admiration.”

The major’s attention was finally diverted.

He could no longer block out the incessant noise at his door.

“One moment,” he signed, then called out, “Come in.”

A young sergeant marched into the room and solemnly saluted. “Sir,” he rapped. “The colonel requests your presence outside for morning muster. Sir!”

The major returned the salute. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Sir!” The sergeant stepped forward. “The colonel requests your presence now. Sir!”

The major alternated glances from Indian to soldier and then back again.

With a growl, the major grabbed his sword, his hat and gloves.

He turned toward Tahiska.

“Your gifts are accepted,” he signed. “My daughter and I thank you.”

He strode forward and with hand outstretched, shook the young Indian’s hand. Then pivoting, he rushed from the room.

Tahiska watched the major go. He assumed that Kristina’s father had understood him. His careful gaze scanned the major’s office, memorizing its contents while he considered what had taken place. Tahiska had not expected it to be this easy. Now he had only to bide his time before she came in search of him.