"Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs."
- William Shakespeare
Clara had a rough night sleeping; for one, she was knocked unconscious for some time, and two, the thoughts of Chayton and her guilt prevented her brain from shutting off. How badly she wanted to apologize and let him know that she didn't mean it at all, but would he believe her? Probably not. She felt like she had to apologize to all of them, both for her actions and the ones of her people. It was no secret white men and Native men got into violent disputes, and it was no secret the white men were usually the ones left standing. It was a clash of cultures, but the white men were not as lenient as Clara thought they should be. It was nearly impossible for them to assimilate, the Natives simply could not learn to live a white lifestyle within a week.
It probably took as long as it would a Negro.
Which meant it couldn't happen. Even if they could, they wouldn't be treated right.
When she did wake up, she did find several young native women near her, which surprised her because earlier they seemed rather terrified of her. If anything, they seemed very curious at her presence. It was true, her cotton colored skin couldn't compare to the darker coffee skin of the young girls. Although Clara did have some speckled freckles below her eyes and a few on her arms, that was as tan as she was going to get.
Wichahpi showed up and smiled, holding a folded deer skin dress. It looked rather uncomfortable at first but once they got her hands free of the loose ties, her fingers scraped gently over the brown garment. Soft. Softer than anything she'd ever felt. How could that be? Not even cotton could have been this soft and yet this came from an animal. Taking it from her hands, she let it drape and investigated her new item from them. Plain and simple. Well, it wasn't like Clara expected an extravagant, fully beaded ceremonial dress. She didn't even know what the damn dress was for.
As Wichahpi signaled for her to put it on, Clara knew that these young females weren't going to shy their curious eyes. She stripped off the corset which surprisingly survived all this action, and unlaced the back, letting it fall and the girls started to giggle. What? Did they not expect her to have breasts or something? She then put the dress on, knowing her ripped trousers would still be dressed on her body, but she knew they'd probably laugh at her underwear too. Did they wear underwear? The thought immediately raced to Chayton but she immediately shook that away, knowing that was highly inappropriate of her to do. This was no place to think such thoughts.
Once dressed and fully ready for whatever was happening, the women escorted towards the center of the gathering. A large fire lit up the sky, like the one she saw nights ago near the wagon. Her family. It was the first time she actually was a little worried. Not for her father really, just...if they were wasting their time looking for her. She told them not too, hopefully Charlotte took her advice. They had another life to return to, and they shouldn't be bothered with what she was doing. As she stepped close to the fire, she noticed everyone was there and circling the area, leaving her near the fire. Would they burn her alive? The thought made her shake slightly, seeing a mixture of eyes. Some were filled with wonder, others hatred, and some were just unreadable.
Scanning the area, she saw Chayton, who was simply looking at her. He looked calm, but assertive as usual. If anything were to happen, he would intervene right? A tall, thin man stepped into the circle with her. His skin was wrinkled from age and the blistering sun, his skin darker than the majority of the group; he was obviously an aged man. Above his face was a head dress with long and thin antlers. Either the headdress was a ceremonial thing or perhaps a symbol of his stature. This was not the chief. Clara would recognize his build, his face, his voice, in a matter of seconds. This man was much older, and he seemed to be calm about this situation.
He extended his hand towards her, in which she reluctantly gave her own, feeling his fingers delicately touch her wrist. Her veins were protruding from her skin, the heat from the fire giving light for him to investigate, his wrinkled fingers feeling them, feeling her pulse.
Surprisingly, Clara was quite calm. She did not fear this man nor really anyone here. She did not fear death. She feared going back to her family where she would be shackled for the rest of her life. Even if she couldn't make much of a choice here, she at least felt free. Laws do not shackle people necessarily, it's the choice to speak their minds, the power to protect oneself. Clara knew if anyone tried to take advantage of her here, she would take them down. They weren't her father, they were strangers; and these strangers knew she had the power to fight back. Her father had power, more than the muscles in his arms. If she were to fight back, there was nothing she could do. Here, there had to be some form of justice, something that could bring down even the highest ranking of natives. Were there even rankings?
She didn't even feel the blade pierce one of the veins. It was only until she looked down to see the tears of crimson escaping the small puncture wound. The man with the antlers looked up at her, as if surprised by her nonexistent reaction towards the wound. Was she supposed to react? Her mind was in so many places at once that it seemed she couldn't even focus on what was happening. The man spoke a few words, but he spoke it so fast she didn't have time to focus on what they meant. She slowly was beginning to understand the language and its different syllables, but she certainly was no master yet. She didn't even know how to speak it.
He scooped the blood up with the ragged knife he used, almost thinking it was a spoon as it did not leave another mark on her. With that blood, he flicked it towards the fire, neither dousing it nor inflaming it further. He took a step back, and Clara did the same, her eyes looking around but everyone looked into the fire. Her hazel eyes finally averted to the heat, feeling uneasy and lightheaded. A battle. There was a battle in the fire. Arrows flew, screams filled her head, and blood poured out all over what looked like snow. These men were dying, the very same ones circled around her this very minute. He saw the death in their eyes, lying motionless on the snow. It was painful and yet the young girl had no way to look away; she was forced to watch the horrors that the people around her would face. Then it changed, a woman's voice shouted in their language. Fight. Fight! That voice was so familiar, and yet it sounded different, perhaps because she had never heard her own voice without her speaking.
She led a charge, and everything blurred as the battle ended. They remained standing, the lifeless bodies of theirs that once found their place beneath the earth rose, a look of surprise at their revival. The memory flashed quickly to another, one that made her heart race with anticipation and her stomach churn with nerves. Chayton, Chayton and her. She saw it. She saw the passion, the deep love swarming over them both in their privacy. This was not a dream. This was a test, they were testing her future. Was this even possible?! It obviously was because she saw these things, and she could feel them, she could feel how real it was even if she was just standing there. Her feet went numb, her mouth going dry as she heard the cries of a child. A child. She did not get a glimpse of it, but she could see this child grow and grow. This child transformed into a man, and then a wolf. It switched back and forth: man and wolf, for quite some time before she saw the glory of these people. They were maybe twice the size of this gathering now, happy, glorified, and joyful. There was no pain there, no war, no blood, only peace. This wolf was leading them.
Then the fire returned to be a fire, but blurry as she felt the heaviness of her eyelids form. Her feet stumbled, as if she could no longer feel the floor anymore, her body slipping away from her. Her eyes left the fire and was now facing the stars, and yet her body had not yet hit the ground. Strong arms came behind her, resting underneath her arm to keep her from pressing against the dirt, slowly pulling the rest of her body in his arms. Her eyes closed, her head tilting to the side before feeling her chin against her collarbone, and her body drifted to a new land.
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"What in the hell are you doin' here?!" Were the first words Booker heard when entering the small town in Dakota Territory. It sure was not like Virginia, or Boston for that matter. He entered the land of pioneers, men who worked by their own sweat and blood to make a living, start a town that could flourish. The train ride didn't last as long as he thought, and stepping off the platform and smelling the coal burning, he actually enjoyed it. Adventure. His detective cases were getting rather dull in Boston, especially with Clara being gone. But now, his senses were heightened once more and he was angry. More at Colin than anything. Son of a bitch couldn't even keep an eye on her.
The words didn't surprise him as he entered the small inn. There she was, the same woman she was when he left her. Well, it's not like he had a choice either. It was her choice, and she had no right to pester him over it. Oh Charlotte, when would she ever learn that money and fame wasn't everything?
"Your husband hired me," Booker stated, a soft smile appearing on her lips as he dropped his bag on one of the tables, looking around the empty bar as she sat there. Her temper certainly had not changed, but her face had. Beaten. If there was one word to describe his past lover, it was beaten. It did not make his heart tremble for Colin's wrath, but rather it melted at her own pain. He never would have done that to her, but then again it was her choice.
"I didn't think my husband was that stupid to hire you," she muttered, sipping her morning cup of tea and looking away. Why was he here?! Colin certainly was stupid for bringing him. Did he want to tear this family apart even further? She couldn't bear to look at him. He was the same he always was. Brave, strong, his firm jaw still covered with that perfect stubble, some of it white from his stress. He must have been going through so much more stress than she could imagine, especially coming here. Yet she was being such a jerk about it. She couldn't reveal those feelings for him. They were too dangerous.
She made a wrong choice, and she thought about it every day. She picked money and power over love. Yet, the love gave her a consequence as well. A child born from her womb. The child was different, treated different, loved different, because she wasn't a part of the family. Charlotte looked at the father of her child and saw the look in his eyes: anger. Now was not the time to discuss this. Colin came down with a small group of men, exchanging glances at them before clearing his throat.
"DeWitt, I assume you had a pleasant trip?" he asked and Booker nodded, "good, because that's about as far pleasant as this will get. We have three teams, in which you will be leading Booker. Charlotte and I must make it to California as soon as possible."
"I thought you were heading to Oregon?" Booker asked, confused.
"Well we couldn't have everyone knowing where we were going, could we?" Charlotte stated. It didn't make much sense to Booker anyways. "We heard discussion about California. Perfect weather, beaches, farming. There's speculation that in future that area will flourish. Business will be busier than ever."
There it was again. Business. Booker did need money yes, but he wasn't greedy for it.
"Anyways, while we get settled over there, I want you to search the area where we lost her. It's all on map. From there on it's all on you. I shall visit at the end of each month here to hear the progress you're making. I hope to find her as soon as possible," he grumbled, "those savages out there are vicious. Now if you excuse me, I have to go gather your men and give them some rules. Booker, join me after you get settled."
He and the other men left, all the business men in their nice suits, walking past Booker who was wearing a stained white collared shirt and a torn vest on top of it. Booker wasn't uncomfortable around these 'powerful men', because he could easily take them all down if a gun was involved. As Booker noticed Charlotte's annoyed look, he grabbed his bags to leave her be but heard her voice.
"Promise me something, Booker," she stated, looking at him. He looked up at her. Oh, there were so many rude things he could say to her about this. She didn't keep her promise, so why should he? But deep down he still loved her. There was no reason for him to be angry at her anymore, it wouldn't make the situation any easier.
"Yes, Mrs. Robertson?" he asked, no longer going to use her first name, and she was obviously hurt by it.
"When you find Clara...I want you to promise me this. If she is happy...do not bring her back home. Let her be happy," she explained sadly, looking up at him.
"That was your first mistake, miss. You never let her be happy," he said, shaking her head, "I could have given that to her."
"Why does she deserve happiness when I never got any!?"
"Because you had a choice! You had a choice and you chose the wrong. You didn't give Clara a choice, so she decided for herself," Booker swallowed hard, feeling his chest rise and fall heavily with frustration. Charlotte sat there in silence, so Booker grabbed his things and carried on, trudging up the stairs before throwing his bag in one of the given rooms. He was either going to find Clara alive or dead. Either way, she probably would have her freedom and her happiness.
The only problem was that these men were on Colin's side.
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Clara woke up with the sun facing directly down upon her, her back comfortably pressed against the softness of blankets. Blankets? Wasn't she supposed to be tied up? Opening her eyes once more, she leaned up and felt the wet cloth against her forehead. Removing that, she turned and saw Wichahpi, sitting there with her legs crossed patiently as she had a small doll in her hands.
"Wiyan wikan," she said in her native tongue which just made Clara's head hurt even more. No more thinking for right now. She didn't even know what happened.
"What does that mean? Good morning?" she asked, sitting up so she could stabilize herself for now. It seemed a very sunny outside and yet it must've just risen. There was not much chatter outside and Clara assumed it had only just been dawn. She recalled last night about the fire, about everything that had happened, but it just didn't make sense to her right now.
"Holy woman," she said and Clara glared at her before she burst out laughing. What? She was feared by everyone and yet this child called her holy? Something must have happened last night, something that she had missed and that's why she was here. No bonds, no ropes, and an unfamiliar tent. Turning, she saw her bag resting there, untouched. This was her tent.
"What happened last night?" she asked with urgency, trying to hide the smile on her face. It was working, she was in. She had freedom, she had everything she could want. Chayton. Chayton! She had to go there and thank him, surely he had something to do with this.
"It's a spiritual ceremony. Our shaman, wichasha wakan, did it because he is connected to the spirits. He saw many things, and so did you," she explained, but not in as much detail as she had hoped. She still didn't know much language. Perhaps it would be better to not indulge deeper in the conversation.
"What happens now?" she asked, getting up slowly to get a good look at her new home. It was small, comfortable, and very warm. It would seem as if she could grab a good book and never want to leave this place. Surely they wouldn't let her lounge around though, she knew she probably had a duty and it was probably gutting the fish or something as bad as that. It didn't matter what job she had, she would do it as good as she could and show everyone she had a place here.
"Chayton will come soon to take you," she said nonchalantly, looking at her straw doll before looking back up at the young woman.
Clara couldn't help but turn a deep shade of red at that statement. Surely she didn't mean it like that but she couldn't help at the thought, especially at what happened in the fire last night. She shook it off though, knowing that obviously that would not happen, not now at least. "What are we to be doing once he gets here?" she asked, feeling the blood rush away from her cheeks as she pushed the thought away.
"You will do what my brother does," she explained.
"Do what he does?" she asked. She didn't even know what Chayton did, but surely that was a man's job, not her own. Didn't women just do the cleaning and cooking? "What exactly does he do?
"He watches. Mostly he explores but he watches for enemies or animals. Sometimes he gets hunting duty. Shaman said you are to do that job," she stated.
"But I am a woman," Clara scoffed, a laugh in between it as she was just so shocked about all this treatment towards her now.
"Well, you do that in the morning, and then you shall help us cook in the evening," she shrugged before the flap of her home opened, Chayton's body standing there as he looked at Clara. Clara took that look as her motion to leave and she stood up before he handed her something. Shoes. Deerskin shoes. Surely not what she was used to, but much better than barefoot.
"Thank you Chayton," she smiled sweetly and put them on, looking up to expect a smile but only seeing a blank face. Right. He was probably still upset about her comment earlier, which she would soon apologize for once they had the time. He moved away, letting her step outside into the fresh air. The soot of their big fire last night was still in the air and it only made Clara smile wider.
Chayton looked at her before motioning his head for her to follow her. She walked hurriedly behind him and looked around, seeing all the people look at her. Some of them even smiled! This had to be a dream, honestly, she couldn't believe this was happening. Children waved at her and ran around her, small giggles leaving the white girl's lips. Women smiled at her, but the men still seemed a little weary about her. That was expected though, they had to protect their families and still had to judge if she was threat. Surely all her problems seemed to be over.
It wasn't.
After Chayton grabbed his necessary weapons, too many for Clara's count, they walked for several minutes up the river, heading into the dense part of the forest. No words were said, surprisingly. She thought he would have said something by now, just anything.
"Listen, I'm sorry for about what I said earlier," she said, catching up to him so they were walking side by side. Despite her want to look around and just enjoy looking at the area, she knew something was bothering him. This wasn't like him. Then again, she didn't know him much at all. "I didn't mean it. I was angry, but not at you. For the first time in my life, I had the chance to talk about how I was feeling and I took it out on you. I didn't mean it like that. I honestly want to thank you, for doing this. I know I'd either be raped or dead if it wasn't for you."
He remained silent for some time before looking at her. His eyes looked conflicted, a mixture of anger and yet sadness. Something was definitely bothering him and she only wanted to help. "You need to leave here..." he said quietly before his head turned to look away.
"What do you mean? I finally for once can walk outside and not get killed, I'm not tied up anymore. Why do you want me to leave?" she asked, aghast at his comment. What if she didn't want to leave? She had nowhere to go anyways. She was doing perfectly fine where she was, in fact she wanted to stay and learn. There were too many strange coincidences around her that she can't ignore.
"It's too dangerous here. You need to leave." That was all he said.
Clara was not going to believe this nonsense. She stepped in front of him, her hand out as it collided with his bare chest. He looked up at her in complete shock, as if not even expecting her to do this. "We are not going anywhere unless you tell me. What is wrong? Something is bothering you, what is it?" she asked quietly and patiently, wanting to let him speak his mind.
"It's you! Ever since you came here it's as if you have ruined my life! Don't you understand? I do not want to be on watch duty for the rest of my life. I want to be like my brother, I want to be a warrior, and I want to be respected-"
"Oh, you want to be like your brother? You want to be a selfish man who has more than enough wives to keep him warm at night?" Clara rose her eyebrow, ignoring his first comment for now. This wasn't the Chayton she thought him to be. There was something hidden in this, a mystery, and she planned on finding it out.
"No. I want to be respected. Ever since I brought you here it has only brought misery and disgust upon me," he said.
"Think about what you just said, Chayton. You brought me here. You did. You could have let me drown in that river and you could live your little fairy tale ending where you get what you want. I was wrong about you. You are like your brother. All you care about is yourself," she said, shaking her head in disbelief before removing her hand from him. All she could feel was a disconnect between them right now.
"I'm not selfish, I am trying to save you. You need to get away right now," he said urgently, his hand gripping her forearm, and not very gently.
"How can I when you have such a death grip on me?" she laughed and he just rolled her eyes. He thought this was just a game to her. She was treating this like a game. This was serious.
"Can you take this seriously!? I'm trying to save your life! My father will kill you if you do not leave," he said, but instantly regretted blurting it out. Great. He knew she was very smart girl, she would do anything she could to avoid this. There was no way around this.
Clara sat upon a rock near the calm stream, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow. "So that's what was so hard to tell me, that your father wants to kill me? I didn't think it would be this hard to get you to speak honestly with me," she said, looking at him with a calm expression.
"Clara, listen to me-"
"Why should I? I'm free now. I have a choice, you cannot make me doing anything without good reason," she huffed.
"I think death is a pretty good reason!"
Wonderful, their first fight and they haven't even admitted their feelings.
"Your father won't kill me. You'll protect me, right?" she looked up at him, but she saw that look. Conflict. He had to decide between loyalty to his father, or this girl he was supposed to protect.
"I want you to be happy, not dead," he explained poorly.
"What if I think my happiness is here?"
"Then you will die."
"It'll be worth it then," she shrugged, perching on top of the rock.
"Listen, let's head back. I can sneak your stuff out, and I'll make sure you can be on your way safely."
"What are you so afraid of, Chayton?" she asked, noticing that obviously nothing she was saying was working. He was afraid of something, perhaps his father, perhaps something darker than that. Perhaps he was afraid of her.
"I'm not afraid of anything," he stated, looking at her with slight anger, "warriors are not afraid of anything."
"Ah, a warrior. Chayton, you weren't a warrior before you met me; what makes you think your father will make you one after I leave?" Logic. It was one of her favorite things to use against people and Chayton was obviously hating it. She was right, and he knew that, he just would never admit that to her. She was winning this so-called argument and Chayton didn't like it at all. He had never lost to a female.
"Just come back," he said, looking at her.
She shook her head, "No. I'm staying right here."
He looked very frustrated and angry. She had no idea what was really making him angry. It wasn't her. It was his father. He didn't want to have her be dead, but she was also being stubborn about it. Despite the ceremony last night, it seemed nothing could persuade the Chief's mind. The last thing he wanted was Clara dead.
"Fine, you stay here, right here, and I'll bring your stuff to you," he explained, turning around and walking away.
Clara flinched and took a deep breath, "Something could happen out here."
"Well you said you were staying right there," he said and she bit her tongue gently. Damn him. He was beating her right now, but she wasn't going to give in.
"I am and I will," she said firmly, not wanting to just let him win this silly game. Or was it not a game?
"Fine!" he said and started to slowly walk away. Clara could feel worry each time he got further and further away. As soon as she was out of sight it was like her fears kicked in. She swore she heard noises, sticks breaking, rocks moving, but it had to be her imagination. Clara took her time now to look around. Everything was amazing, everything. The smell of the pines, the crashing waves of the stream, the movements of the tall grass. This was something she couldn't imagine from even infinite words. It was not something she could paint with emotion. She was here, and there was no way she could describe this feeling. The surrounding areas were hers to explore, to look around, and to find new things. This was way better than being a doctor, and she never wanted to leave
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Chayton walked back, kicking the rocks at his feet. Why didn't she just understand? Yes, he wanted her to be happy and to be excited about all of this, but she was in danger. He couldn't imagine what would happen if she were to die, and I was all because of him, because he exposed his feelings to his father. He knew of it, so did Clara see it? Maybe not. Even so, that would make it easier for her, and harder for him. Letting her go would not be easy but wasn't it what he had to do?
He had two choices: disobey his father, or disobey the spirits.
The spirits wanted her here, they told the Shaman that she would revive this once great nation. Lakota used to be much different than this. It used to be a larger and thriving community, but both the white men and surrounding nations tore them apart. If Clara could somehow mend a broken family, despite her differences...why should Chayton step in the way and hinge that possibility? He thought about it for a while, not realizing he had strayed away from his destination before he felt something was wrong.
There was a heavy presence in the area, an evil that he could sense. Something bad was happening, and he turned around, hoping Clara was not in trouble. Before he could head back that way, a figure came out from the shadows. Black feathers: Ojibwas. They were an enemy tribe, one of the many reasons the Lakota nation was split as of now. They aided the French in the War, told them of their location because they had talked to the other white men. What was one of them doing here on Lakota territory?
"What is a young Sioux boy doing around here?" he asked, his voice deep. He was much older than Chayton, taller, and stronger. This was no simple Ojibwa boy, this was one of their warriors, and obviously his intent wasn't to just scare the young man in front of him.
It wasn't working. Chayton would stand his ground, despite calculating that the possibility of losing was great. He could fight the odds.
"I'm not a boy," Chayton growled.
The man laughed, his muscles moving with each one. Chayton tensed, his feet digging into the ground as his fingers lingered over the axe against his deerskin belt. That blade could protect him, only if he used it wisely, and right now Chayton's head was not where it should have been. Had they seen Clara? Had they hurt her? Any other Native Nation would have used her in ways Chayton could never imagine doing. If they even laid a finger on her, he would kill them all.
Chayton knew he couldn't win this fight alone, and as soon as he whistled, he felt a sharp blow to his face. He didn't see the blunt club in his enemies hand as it impacted his face, knocking him to the floor. Chayton backed up, but not before he felt gravity behind him, pulling him down. How stupid was he, to nearly walk off a cliff down towards the river?! Clara was right, he wasn't a warrior at all; he barely knew how to fight someone twice his size, let alone his own size.
The enemy scout grabbed his arm, wanting to throw him off the cliff but Chayton fought back, pushing against him with his own muscles. Chayton knew he couldn't stall for long but he had to try his best. Managing to get his hands off his body, Chayton pushed the guy off him, taking a few steps away from the cliff before seeing the club again. Cursing in his mind, he jumped back, avoiding the spiked club before slipping, grabbing the edge of the cliff with just his fingers. Struggling to pull himself up, he saw the shadow of his enemy above him.
"Hey, stupid head!" a voice shouted and Chayton saw a large rock hit the large native right on his ear, causing him to stumble to the side. Chayton put his leg up on part of the ledge to stabilize himself and saw Clara, another rock in her hand.
"Clara, get out of here!" he shouted and soon their enemy noticed the correlation, but it was too late to say anything. Down the cliff at the edge of the water, Enapay and three other men came running, bows in hand and shouting war cries.
The Ojibwa knew he probably couldn't get out of here alive, but he wasn't going down without a fight. Clara threw another rock, but he easily caught it and crushed the heap of stone with his fist, looking at her as fear was prominent in her eyes. Before he could hurt her though, he grabbed Chayton by the back of his pony tail, dragging him up, knowing he would only be kicked down once more. They wrestled for a moment, Chayton trying to throw punches before feeling a sharp kick to stomach, sending him back over the cliff once more, this time only one hand managing to grab a piece of land and keep him from certain death. Clara could hear the shouts of Enapay and the other men, but they wouldn't get here in time. Seeing the sunlight shine upon the silver of Chayton's familiar curved tomahawk, she ran over and picked it up. The Ojibwa stood over Chayton, his feet very close to his fingers. One step and Chayton would be done for.
As Chayton looked up, holding on for his life, he suddenly saw a flash of blood. The deep screams of the Ojibwa could have been heard for miles as the blade was dug straight into his neck and pulled out before being plunged into the same wound again and again. His body fell, the blood spurting as the vein had been struck, staining the grass and Chayton's fingers along with it. Seeing a hand extended, he grabbed it and saw Enapay and a few men, looking over the figure. With a great sigh of relief, he thanked his friend with a small gesture before turning to Clara.
Her face was horrified. The blood had stained all over her 'new' dress and on to her fingers. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked so terrified at what just happened, the blood forever staining her memory. It was her first kill. Enapay took a step towards her, trying to calm her down as her chest heaved heavily as if she couldn't breathe, but she only stuck the blade out as if to hurt him. She was trying to protect herself, protect her fragility and innocence. Yes, what she did was a good thing. She saved Chayton's life but there could have been another way right?
Eventually Clara dropped the weapon before turning and running away, leaving the men standing in the puddle of blood before Chayton looked at Enapay. Knowing that look, Enapay nodded and Chayton followed her, keeping his eye on her as she ran down towards the calmness of the river. She jumped right in, as if that would help with the blood and just wash everything away.
"Last time you ran away, you fell in a river..." he said, trying to make light of the situation, "now you just happen to jump right in." Of course the river was much calmer and perfect for swimming around, but perhaps his comment wasn't helping. He took his shoes off, stepping in the cold water before walking towards her. Her back was turned to him, her body shaking as she had uncontrollable sobs.
"J-just leave me alone... okay?" she whimpered, bending down to soak her red hands in the clearness of the water. She had to get those stains out before they would forever engrain in her memory. She hated this. Why was she so stubborn? Why didn't she listen to him and go with him or something? She didn't belong here!
Chayton approached her, his hand touching her shoulder gently before he bent down next to her. "You know, I'd be dead if it wasn't for you," he whispered, taking more water and helping get the stains away from her dress. It was his fault wasn't it? He couldn't make a decision and he almost paid the price for it. Clara saved him; it was almost as if the spirits were trying to tell him something, he regretted even leaving her side. "And I am sorry for trying to push you away and saying all those things. In all honesty, I do want you to stay and I do think you do belong here."
"How can I? After all that I just did?!" she turned to him, her eyes a bright shade of green as the tears streamed. She felt the fingers on her shoulder gently caress the edge of her skin, but she wouldn't dare admit how calm it was making her.
"You just proved that you can take down a man more than twice your size in front of four different men," he chuckled, "I think you belong here. Listen, Clara, I understand what it is like. Our first kills are not the easiest things we face. Most, if not all the women haven't even killed a human being before. You're probably the first. It's a hard transition, I know. You want to prove you belong here, and you just did. It is fine to be upset, it is fine to cry. Crying is normal."
"But what if it doesn't work, what if-" her crying had stopped but there was still a sense of sadness in her voice.
"In our nature, however, there is a provision, alike marvelous and merciful, that the sufferer should never know the intensity of what he endures by its present torture, but chiefly by the pang that rankles after it...." He said, looking at her. It wasn't the most perfectly said English, but as soon as he said it, she looked at him and smiled.
"You really do love that book," she chuckled softly with a sniffle and looked down at her dress. It was nearly all clean, and there were no signs of a bloody mess, at least on her dress that is. "Although, I don't think that quote is quite suitable for the situation at hand," she smiled softly.
"It's not?" he asked, tilting his head before standing up, extending his hand out to help her up.
She gladly accepted it and fixed her dress, not wanting it to ride up her legs in front of him. "Probably not. It's talking about how my punishment of killing that man will be much worse in the future than it is now," she explained, stepping out of the river and writhing the bottom of her dress to get some of the excess water out.
"Really? I thought that it meant that perhaps we don't understand the full punishment because of mercy," he stated, standing in the water for a while before getting out and looking at her. She couldn't even look at him because he was just too...charming right now.
"Shouldn't you be gathering my things and making me leave?" she asked, and this time very seriously. He walked by her and shook her head, a smile appearing on her face.
"You escaped your life to come here and be free. Forcing you to leave here is just chaining you up again. Besides, the spirits say you belong here and I believe that too," he explained, "here, I think we should head back and let you get some rest. I'll let them know what happened and I'm sure they'll be lenient. Perhaps you can help with dinner tonight."
"Do you even believe in those spirits?" she asked.
"Not really...but you've proven yourself here."
"I...thank you," she whispered, looking at him.
"No, Clara. Thank you," he said, a smile on his face, "We can continue tomorrow with the lessons and all."
"Lessons?" she asked curiously.
"Who else is going to teach you how to hunt, climb, talk, or fight?" he chuckled.
"Won't your father get mad?"
"The only thing he could do is kick me out of the tribe...there isn't much worse he could really do. You're worth the risk," he stated and Clara stood there for a moment. After all that had happened in the past twelve hours, both uphill and downhill emotions...she couldn't believe it. Chayton was on her side, her parents were gone, and people were starting to like her. From here, it could only get better.
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Clara picked up her journal, using the small fire in her tent to light up the fresh paper:
June 29, 1861,
I couldn't imagine this happening. I couldn't imagine so much happening on my first day. Chayton was mad at me and I had no idea why, and soon I found out his father had threatened me. He was angry about that. Does he have feelings for me? He was, and is, trying to protect me constantly and yet it was me saving him today. I can't stop thinking about him, how he ran after me to just try and comfort me. If he knew each other better, surely he would have done more than touch my shoulder. I would have accepted any comfort he would have had to offer me.
When we got back, Enapay's wife, Wachiwi, (which means dancing girl in their language) showed me the many ways they tenderized and stripped the meat from the local buffalo herd. They precisely knew where the fattest was, where the richest and thickest of meat were. They certainly didn't mind getting their hands dirty either. Despite our language barrier, Wichahpi helped us out with the small communication. Wachiwi told me how brave it was of me to save Chayton's life. Supposedly Chayton had saved her husband's life multiple times, and I could only think of the possibilities. Chayton was brave and strong, but surly that enemy warrior was trained to fight. Chayton was not trained at all really and focused on the skills he learned himself. Maybe I could teach him a thing or two. I had seen a few street fights and knew the best way to take a man down, despite his size.
It's surprisingly quiet here, especially after the meals. Of course I can still hear several men out there chatting, probably talking about what happened or just stories of the past. Maybe they're even talking about me. Chayton said tomorrow we would continue with this scouting routine. Honestly I don't mind the idea of it, it's just being with him that scares me. I'm not afraid he would do anything, I'm rather afraid of his feelings and my own feelings. He seems to like The Scarlet Lettertoo much. Perhaps if I had other books I could show him there are much better stories to read. I did enjoy the book, it just didn't have the ending I wanted. Nobody should live through that much guilt.
The scary thing is, I think Chayton is willing to bear that much guilt for me if something were ever to happen between us. I want to do things right here, for his sake. If such a thing were to happen, and I have no doubt it will because of the things I've seen, I just hope everything goes the Lakota way. I am a Lakota Sioux now. I will abide by their laws and rules as best as I can.
To me, this feels like home. I don't ever want to leave.