Page 50 of Red Hawk's Woman

“As I am too,” she said. “How I would like to sleep away these next few days instead of… Oh, well. There is work to be done, I suppose.”

“It’s one of the aspects of your personality I have always loved about you.”

“What?”

“Your dedication. All this would be for nothing, if not for you.”

The woman smiled widely. “Hmmm, I like the sound of these words.”

“Yes? What is it?”

She grinned. “Help me out of my things.”

“Ah…with great pleasure, my dear. By the by, where did you find the charming black outfit you were wearing earlier?”

“I have my means,” she replied with a slight titter. “I have my means.”

“You’re a minx. Come here,” he coaxed, and very soon, the woman’s silken skirt hit the floor, followed by a pair of soft pantalettes and linen shirt.

“Ah,” said the man. “You are beautiful.”

She collapsed into a burst of chortles.

Given a choice, this was not the manner in which Red Hawk would have chosen to travel. He was a scout, and scouts commonly traversed enemy territory at night. They also used various means to blend into their environment. So much was this the case that only the well-trained eye could detect the presence of a scout, if at all.

Unfortunately, there was no plan Red Hawk could employ to hide the horses and wagons of Effie’s group, no manner by which to disguise the noise of the wagons, the neighing of the animals nor the dust kicked up by their procession. Moreover because of these wagons—and there were two of them—their party was restricted to using the sunlight hours in which to travel. Thus, the chance of meeting a war party was great.

Luckily for them, because the Crow Indians were friendly toward the whites, Effie’s company would not likely encounter hostilities on this leg of their journey, even though he—a traditional enemy of the Crow—traveled with them. He only hoped the same would hold true once they reached Blackfeet country.

However, scouting was the least of his duties. In addition, there was the trail to blaze, meat to procure, protection and lookouts to be kept. An additional experienced man would have been preferable.

Red Hawk had tried to find such a person. In the few days before setting out on the trail, he had considered seeking out the Crow to determine if there might be a few warriors among them who would be willing to aid the whites.

But he had rejected the idea almost immediately. Since the Blackfeet and the Crow were enemies, he figured he would never be able to trust a Crow warrior with his scalp.

In addition, he had also sought out several of the young men who had flocked to Virginia City. But that, too, had been to no avail.

Unfortunately, there was no one else. This had left him with many tasks to perform, and required a rigorous schedule—to bed early, after posting one of the white men to stand watch. Arising in the middle of the night and setting out on the trail to explore the territory ahead, he watched for signs of enemies—in this way Red Hawk secured safe passage for the next day’s journey.

Then in the very early morning, Red Hawk would return to camp, there to awaken the others, and set them into preparation for their continued trip. Add to this that Red Hawk’s main duty was to provide fresh meat, as well as to lead Effie’s group on the shortest and safest path through Crow country, and one might realize the extent of his responsibilities.

That this cut his hours of sleep to less than a few each night was accomplished without thought of complaint. Perhaps when they attained his own country he could let down his guard.

There had been one change, however. While still in Virginia City, two more people had joined their party—a man by the name of John Owens, and his butler, Fieldman. Owens’s wife was to have accompanied him originally but had not felt up to the challenge of travel.

Owens was an elder to the rest of the group, by perhaps twenty-five years. He was also the father of one of the women in the group, the one known as Lesley.

John Owens was also Effie’s father’s best friend, her father’s naapi, as the men of the Blackfeet would say. A middle-aged man, with short, graying, dark hair—at least what was left of it—he sported a predominately gray mustache. In height, he stood a little shorter than Red Hawk, and he carried a great deal of fat around the middle of his belly.

At first Red Hawk hadn’t known what to think of the elder man, for Red Hawk had sensed an air of antagonism about the man. Upon further acquaintance, however, Owens had seemed amicable enough, and any doubts Red Hawk had harbored at first seemed to be unwarranted.

Still Red Hawk frowned. It was puzzling, for he tended to trust his instincts, as well as first impressions.

Then there was Owens’s butler, Fieldman. Although Fieldman seemed devoted to Owens, Red Hawk little trusted a man whose living depended on the leave and goodwill of another.

But enough.

The weather on this fine day in Niipiaato’s, or June, the summer month, was pleasant, warm and sunny. It was a condition he had expected, since it had been foretold by the red sun at sunset on the previous day.