Page 76 of Red Hawk's Woman

He didn’t answer; he merely frowned.

“Mr. Hawk?”

“I hesitate to put my thoughts into words until I learn more.”

“Learn more of what?”

Red Hawk wasn’t ready to answer any further questions on the subject, and he just shook his head. “And now, it is time for you to retire.”

“Humph!” she uttered. “I suppose you want me to sleep while you go on ahead and scout out the trail for tomorrow?”

“Aa, such scouting must be done.”

“May I go with you this time?”

“Not tonight. I would finish my work as quickly as I might. But do not fret. There are many more evenings ahead of us.”

“Yes, Mr. Hawk, there certainly are.”

Perhaps it was the way in which he had expressed himself. Maybe not. But seeming to realize that his mind was set on the subject and there was nothing more to discuss about it, she simply said good night and started to leave.

He grabbed hold of her arm, keeping her back. “You forgot something.”

“Oh? Did I?”

“Aa, ’tis so.” Bending toward her, he kissed her soundly on the lips and hugged her close to him. “Sleep well.” He gave her rump a little pat.

“Sir?” She backed up from him. She accompanied the word with a smile, and, turning away from him, she stepped to her tent. However, before she pulled the flap back and ducked into the interior of the flimsy structure, she looked over her shoulder. Shyly, she waved at him.

Red Hawk didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he sighed.

The land over which they rode was awe-inspiring, as they traveled through one natural-made cathedral after another. The countryside was big, massive, spacious, and it was brilliant with luxuriant greenery. From lakes as blue as the deep, azure color of the sky, to the valleys where patches of green were emblazoned with winding, meadow streams, they trod over a land that seemed more fairy tale than real. Craggy, snow-topped mountains and pine-covered hills were ever in the distance, and each day brought a new splendor that seemed even more spectacular than the last.

The meadows abounded with wildlife as well. Buffalo were everywhere, as were moose, dear, elk and antelope. Once, a few days back, as she and the other women had been gathering wild berries, Red Hawk had instructed them on the proper manner in which to greet a bear, should they come across one.

“Look him in the eye,” he had said, “do not challenge him, and do not smile. Simply look at him, and do not avert your gaze. Since it is the height of summer and the bears are not starved from their winter sleep, they should not attack. And, if you see a bear, scream as loudly as you can.”

Because she preferred to walk instead of ride in the wagons, Effie still remembered the day when they had crossed a stream that was hot at its very bottom and cool on top. She had at once reckoned that the riverbed must be a place where some hot spring emptied. Briefly, she had wondered about the stream’s medicinal powers, but when their party had forged on ahead, she had forgotten to ask Red Hawk about it.

There were birds everywhere, as well, and she was getting accustomed to being awakened by the magic of their songs and lulled to sleep at night by their calls. Eagles and hawks flocked the skies during the day, their majestic presence always an inspiring wonder. Even Red Hawk paid them tribute, stopping whatever he was doing to gaze up at them. Often, he would sing to them.

When she had queried him about such unusual behavior, wondering why he would sing when the creatures obviously could not hear him, he had told her, “We honor the eagle, for he will often alert you to an enemy. If they will not fly over a particular area, you can know that there lies an enemy. And do you know as a fact that they cannot hear me or know of my admiration?”

“Well…no.”

He hadn’t spoken another word on the subject, but had rather gone on about his duties.

He had educated her about many other birds, as well. “The nepe-e, or as you call it, the white-throated sparrow, speaks Blackfeet. We all understand his song, and the black breast—or longspur—sings a melody that means, ‘Spread out your blanket and I will light upon it.’ But the bird we think is wisest of all is the raven. We look to him to tell us the future. If he lights upon your trail and puts his head together with another raven, an enemy is close by. You should seek cover.”

“Truly?”

“Aa.”

At present, they had come to a stream, home to several beavers.

“Look there.” Red Hawk had reined in his pony and had dropped back to her, since she accompanied the last wagon. She was on foot and was holding on to their horse, as though to guide it. Carl Bell, with reins in hand, was driving the wagon, while John Owens sat next to him. They were awaiting their turn at crossing the river.

Pointing to a particular beaver, Red Hawk said, “Watch ksis-atukki closely.”