Tiopa Ki Lakota Part 5

"Ta help with the preparations. Mrs. Heinrich makes a fine potato cake, if ye recall." Rachel settled down, the dress in her lap, and strung a needle with thread. "She and her children will come and Mr. Heinrich'll stay b'hind until the next day." Adjusting the cloth, she stopped to wipe a strand of greying blonde hair from her eyes. "I think we'll set them up in the barn. I'll have Stewart muck it out the day b'fore."

The teenager finished dressing and moved to the table where the fixings for an apple pie were set out. As she began paring the apples, she asked, "How many will be attending?"

Rachel rocked gently in her chair. "Oh, looks ta be 'bout a dozen, no more. The Heinrichs, that new couple down south of here, and the Anders. 'Twill be an excitin' day fer ye, Kathleen! Ye'll look so pretty in yer wedding dress." She beamed over at her daughter.

"Aye," the blonde girl responded dutifully, not feeling all that excited at the prospect of becoming Mrs. Adam Stevens. More like.... dread. She continued peeling the apples, her mother's humming not soothing as it once had been.

By all the regular ways of reckoning, the wedding was a grand success. The homestead was packed to the rafters with well-wishers. Women and girls cl.u.s.tered around inside the cabin, fixing their best dishes for the festivities. The men and boys milled about outside, smoking pipes, looking over McGlashan's farmstead and with Stewart constantly pressuring people to come look at Caleb the bull in the south field.

At a little past midday, Stevens arrived with the magistrate in tow. While the pompous little official puffed about the small clearing designated as the wedding site, the men drug the groom off to the stables. Once there, he was given a shot of homemade liquor that made his pale eyes water and was gussied up for the ceremony. Meanwhile, the women fawned over the bride, pinching her cheeks, helping her into her dress, discussing the attributes of the new husband-to-be and generally making Kathleen all the more nervous for their efforts.

And then it was time. Stewart, dressed in his finest, burst into the cabin. "Are ye ready then?" he asked, raising his voice to get over the clamor of the women.

"Yes!" Rachel called from behind the crowd.

The women separated from behind, finally opening to reveal Kathleen. The green gingham dress was long and full, a high waist accentuating the bosom. Long sleeves puffed out on the upper arms, closing in to fit tightly around the forearms and wrists. Handmade lace had been attached to the cuffs and low collar and additional material had been used as a belt, a bow tied in the back. Her blonde hair had been put high on her head, with ringlets and spit curls spilling down here and there.

"Kath! Ye look..." Stewart blinked. "Ye look incredible, la.s.s."

Kathleen blushed a little, not used to compliments from her bratty sibling. "Aye. Thank ye, Stew."

The youth stepped forward, his eyes still shining with some unknown emotion. "If ye weren't my sis, I'd marry ye myself."

The teenager drew herself up at the giggles from the women around her. She glared down at her brother in sisterly exasperation. "Like I'd have ye, ye brat."

"Kathleen Sarah McGlashan!" her mother said into the shocked room.

Stewart blinked again, coming to his senses. And then a grin split his face and he punched Kathleen on the upper arm. "Aye. I'm a brat. But it beats bein' a lily livered canary whistlin' on the pipes all day."

Rachel sounded even more distressed as she gasped, "Stewart Franklin!"

The siblings ignored her and swept each other up into an embrace.

"Ye look fantastic, Kath," the youth whispered.

"Thank ye, Stew," she whispered back.

Outside, the sounds of Mr. Heinrich's accordion filtered through the still open door.

"There 'tis then," a woman nearby piped up. "Time to get a move on, younglings."

Kathleen released her brother and gulped down the sudden overwhelming fear that threatened to crowd out all thought. Stewart pecked her once on the cheek and ran back out the door, preparing to take his place as Stevens' best man. The women around her filtered out to take their places with their husbands and parents with the exception of Mrs. Anders and her young daughter. These were to be Kathleen's matron of honor and flower girl.

Rachel gave her daughter a quick, rea.s.suring hug and a kiss. "Ye'll do fine, la.s.s," she whispered. "Ye look so beautiful!" Blue eyes already glistening with unshed tears, she hugged the teenager fiercely to herself once more. And then she was out the door to take her place with the rest of the wedding party.

Mrs. Anders looked to the young bride. "Kathleen...?"

The teenager fought down her rising bile and forced a smile to her face. "Time to get married."

The ceremony went off without a hitch, her mother and half the other women crying in response. The groom looked resplendent in his best suit, his brown hair pulled back and tied with a bow and the buckles on his Sunday shoes shining brilliantly. When he'd seen his bride for the first time in her splendor, his eyes glinted with unshed tears of happiness.

After the wedding, everyone gathered for a feast and fest. The clearing in front of the cabin was utilized as a dance floor as McGlashan and the Heinrich's boy pulled out fiddles and were joined by Mr. Heinrich's accordian. While there were more women than men at the function, that didn't stop anyone from merrily dancing away. Having little experience with dancing, Kathleen felt a bit odd. Whenever she and her brother danced, she usually led. It was difficult to give way to her new husband.

As the afternoon got on, gifts were unwrapped - a quilt from her mother, a matching set of braided leather bracelets from her brother, an ivory pipe that had belonged to her grandfather and was given to Stevens. The guests had also brought various and sundry gifts to help the new couple start their home, despite the fact Stevens' home was already well stocked after years of use.

Afterwards, the newlyweds said their farewells. The guests loaded their gifts and Kathleen's personal belongings onto a cart and Stevens helped his young wife up. As they drove away, the sounds of the merriment continuing behind them, Kathleen realized she'd never even seen her husband's home before. Nothin' like divin' in with both feet, eh?

Three miles pa.s.sed and the sky was beginning to darken. The cart arrived at a tidy little homestead. Stevens began speaking of where the well was located, where the fields were, what he hoped to plant next spring. Kathleen listened with half an ear, peering at the small cabin as he pulled up in front.

"Here, Kathleen," Stevens said, wrapping the reins around the brake and hopping down. "Let me help ye inta the house. I'll unload the goods onta the porch and put up the cart after." He came around and reached up to her.

Swallowing, a flutter of nerves whirling through her stomach for a moment, the teenager rose and let her husband sweep her down to the ground. He placed her arm through his crooked elbow and guided her up the steps.

"'Tis just a small home, sweetling. But, 'twill easily be added on when the babes come." Stevens pushed the door open and paused, peering down at her with a soft smile. For the second time, the first being the wedding ceremony, he kissed his bride gently. "Welcome home, Kathleen."

"Thank ye, Adam," the teenager murmured, casting her eyes down and blushing. And then she clutched at him and let out a tiny shriek as he scooped her up into strong arms.

"I've got ta carry ye over the threshold, sweetling," he laughed, doing just that. Once inside, he set her down, holding her up as she gained her balance once again. "Here. Let me light a lantern fer ye."

The dark interior brightened as the lamp was lit. Stevens settled the gla.s.s over the flame and stepped back, surveying his home. With a rueful grin, he glanced at her. "'Tisn't much at the moment, sweetling. This ol' place hasn't seen a woman's touch in far too long."

Despite her nerves, Kathleen curiously glanced around the single room. A fireplace was on the opposite wall, cold and dark. To her left were a row of cupboards from wall to wall standing waist high. The resulting counters.p.a.ce was covered with a fine layer of dust, a small collection of books and the usual clutter of a home. In the far right corner was a large wooden framed bed, neatly made up. The teenager swallowed anxiously and avoided looking at it.

Stevens stepped forward and gave his wife a quick peck on the forehead. "I'll be back soon, sweetling." And then he strode out of the room.

The sounds of items being set onto the wooden porch filtered through and the teenager continued her perusal. She removed her shawl and noticed pegs hanging from the wall beside the door. Hanging it there, she settled her hands on her hips.

The table wasn't filthy... exactly. She considered the state of her brother's belongings and snorted. Aye, Adam's a bit neater and that's a fact. There were two benches on either side of the table and a chair at one end. The lantern glowed from the center, illuminating the small cabin.

Kathleen moved around the room, clucking at the film of grime that seemed to invade every nook and cranny. The mantel above the fireplace held a small silver frame. It was the only thing that wasn't layered with dust. She picked it up to peer at it closely. The picture inside was a tiny painting of a woman with dark hair and somber grey eyes.

"My first wife, Amanda," Stevens said softly.

Startled, the blonde jumped and nearly dropped the artwork. Her husband reached around her and smoothly caught it before it could fall to the floor. With a blush, she turned and began apologizing. "I'm sorry, Adam."

"Don't be, love," the man said. His blue eyes held a measure of tender sadness. He settled the frame back on the mantel. Almost absently, his other arm wrapped around her and he held her close. "What's past is past and I'll not discuss it this night." Stevens grinned down at her. "'Tis our wedding night." And he ducked down for a kiss.

The b.u.t.terflies in her stomach raged as they fluttered about.

When all was said and done, it wasn't near as bad as she'd been making it out to be. But, as Kathleen lay on her side, staring at the wall of the tiny cabin, she cried in silence. She missed her mum and da and even bratty Stewart. She missed her home.

Behind her, sprawled on his back, Stevens slept. He snored gently, blissfully ignorant of his new young wife's distress.

It had hurt, at first. Her mother had told her it would. And Kathleen knew she'd be sore for the next day. Yet, it had become an interesting sensation. But, did it have ta take so long? she wondered, wiping tears away. She wondered how often she would have to submit to her husband, how often he'd want her in that way. 'Twill be worth it in time. We'll have lots of wee babes roamin' 'round.

Kathleen thought of her own bed in her parents' cabin, thought of hearing her brother as he talked in his sleep, thought of waking up to hear her mother preparing breakfast and her da groaning about getting old before his time. Another spate of tears reached her and she clutched the quilt her mum had made to her chest.

1777.

Kathleen tightly twisted the cloth in her hands, holding it over the tub of water. When she'd satisfactorily removed most of the excess, she tossed the damp item into a nearby basket. It was a beautiful spring afternoon. Birds were chittering to each other in the stand of pine trees nearby, the only sound that could easily be heard. If the young woman concentrated, she could hear her husband in the fields behind the cabin, cussing at the horse he worked.

Today was laundry day, an all day affair. Before her were two large wooden tubs, one of them sitting on a table. There were also two buckets nearby that she'd been using to transfer water from the well. The table tub held the soapy water she'd been using to clean their clothes and now she was rinsing the final load in the second tub, stirring them with a large stick before pulling each piece out to wring dry.

And that's the last of it, she thought with a happy sigh. Using her ap.r.o.n, she dried off her hands and used a corner of it to wipe the sweat from her forehead. At this rate, I might be able ta take a bath b'fore dinner. Kathleen picked up the heavy basket of wet clothing and brought it to the ropes she'd had her husband string up between the cabin and the trees two years ago. Most of their clothes already hung there, flapping in the light breeze, and she prepared to add more to their company.

It had been a good marriage to date. While she didn't exactly love Stevens, she had grown rather fond of him. He was always so gentle and kind, trying his best to not show his disappointment as yet another month went by and still no children. Kathleen couldn't understand what the problem was. Their intimacy was a regular thing - twice a week, except during her monthly time. As time went on, their lack of offspring had begun worrying them both.

"If G.o.d deems it, Kath, ye'll be blessed," her mother's voice whispered in her head. Though, having children denied her because G.o.d deemed it so wasn't a comforting thought.

Kathleen shook off her somber thoughts. Adam doesn't want ye sad, la.s.s. Finish the ch.o.r.e, take a bath and get his dinner ta table. Instead, she focused on happy times.

The previous Sabbath was spent at her parents' home. Stewart hadn't been there, having gone down the way a piece to have dinner with the Anders' and their sweet eldest daughter. So, the two couples enjoyed a quiet evening of conversation and food. The only fly in the ointment had been the talk of the local natives in an uproar.

"Apparently, a fellah down south of here cheated one of them when he traded," McGlashan said, puffing on his pipe on the front porch.

Stevens nodded sagely. "Anyone we know?"

"No. Unless ye know a man named Silas...?" At his son-in-law's head shake he shrugged. "Well, anyways, ta make a long story short, the indian tweren't happy with the situation and killed him."

"That's murder!" Kathleen spoke up, her blue eyes wide.

"Aye, 'tis, la.s.s. As his brothers thought, as well. So, they went out a'huntin' and caught a few of this indian's friends. From there things just escalated."

Frowning, Stevens finished sipping his coffee. "Do ye think we'll have any trouble up here?" he asked.

"No, I doubt it. Seems the savages are stickin' to their neck o' the woods. Haven't heard of them comin' any further north."

Kathleen scowled at herself as she hung one of her husband's shirts. "Nothin' like cheery thoughts, la.s.s," she complained. Pushing the conversation from her mind, she hummed to herself as she hung the laundry to dry.

Once finished, the teenager looked up at the sun, wiping her hands on her ap.r.o.n. Adam'll be in for a break soon. He's nothin' if not methodical. With a grunt, she tipped over first one and then the second tub of water. When they were drained, she leaned them up against the table to air dry and retrieved more water from the well. After transferring the two buckets to the cabin, Kathleen scooped up the basket and went inside.

The basket was returned to the foot of the bed, ready to catch their dirty clothing for the next laundry day. Deciding she didn't have time for a bath after all, Kathleen opted to have a quick washing. One of the water buckets was partially poured into the kettle over the fire and she stirred it into the mixture of stew that had been simmering all day. She placed the second bucket on the table and pulled a coveted bar of lavender soap from the cupboard, along with a rag and a piece of linen.

The blonde hung the ap.r.o.n up on a hook by the door and returned to the table. Undoing the b.u.t.tons on the front of her dress, she bared herself to the waist and dipped the rag into the water. She rubbed the bar of soap onto the wet cloth and proceeded to scrub her body, gasping at the initial coolness against her overheated skin. Once a fine lather had been achieved, she submerged the rag back into the bucket, swirling it around and rinsing it out. Again, she scrubbed, wiping the soap from her skin. The piece of linen was used to dry off.

As she shrugged back into the arms of her dress, she heard the door behind her open. "Adam! I didn't hear ye on the porch, love," she said, reaching for the b.u.t.tons at her waist. "Sit down and I'll get ye somethin' ta drink."

Two things happened simultaneously. The sound of her husband's musket reached her ears - from out in the fields. And a rough hand grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

Kathleen looked up into the dark and dangerous eyes of a native warrior. Blue eyes wide, she clutched her dress to her chest, covering herself, and stepped back. "Get away from me!" she whispered urgently, unable to make her voice work any louder.

The warrior looked at her partial state of undress and a wicked grin crossed his face as he stepped forward.

Out in the field, Stevens heard his young wife scream. He clutched his belly, trying unsuccessfully to hold his guts in place as he used his other hand to crawl towards the cabin. The two warriors with him spoke to each other in a strange language and he felt the sharp pain of a knife bury itself between his shoulder blades.

And then all was dark.

Chapter 3.

Kawita.

(kah-wee-tah).

Coming Together.

1777.

"Hau , tanksi .".

The teenager opened her eyes and peered up at her friend. "Han , tiblo ." She sat up, the buffalo robe falling away as she stretched in the dawn light.

Nupa Olowan grinned as he handed her a piece of dried meat. "The hoksila have come to watch the herd. You and I can return to camp." He then turned away to roll up his sleeping robes and tie them with a thong.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Wi Ile Anpo inhaled deeply. She bit off a chunk of the meat before rising and following her friend's lead. "Do you think they have decided on the hunt?" she asked, by way of conversation.

"I do not know. It has been three days and Inyan returned yesterday with a vision." Nupa shrugged and adjusted the thong on his robes. "It must have been favorable. Else they would not still be counseling."

Anpo nodded in agreement. Finished with her own bedding, she rose and glanced about. The ponies were quietly grazing. Here and there, hoksila were taking up positions to guard the herd until such time as the camp decided to move on or until she and the other koskalaka returned for another all night vigil.

Her best friend clapped her on the arm. "Let's you and I go to your mother's ti ikceya ." He shouldered his buffalo robes.

"Are you interested in the food or my sister?" Anpo questioned with a wicked grin, leading the way.

Nupa followed along, his own smile rueful. "The food is good, but Hca Wanahca is very easy on the eyes."

The pair laughed in the early morning sunlight.

Breakfast consisted of boiled grains and dried meat. The two sat at the fire of Wanbli Zi as his woman and daughter served them. Waniyetu Gi made sure that her eldest daughter was the one to serve the fine young warrior that ate with them. Her man studiously ignored the fawning his eldest engaged in.

Anpo enjoyed watching her friend become all stoic and strong, his chest puffed out as he tried to impress Hca. At one point, the teenager had held out her bowl for more food but her sibling was so engrossed in flirting with Nupa, she'd failed to see it. It wasn't until she was gently chastised by her mother that she blushed and refilled the bowl.

"Did the night go well?" Wanbli Zi asked.

"Hiya . Nothing happened," his youngest daughter responded. She ignored the slightly rolled eyes from Nupa. They'd had this discussion before.

The man looked upon Anpo with fondness. "Nothing can be a good thing, cunksi .".

The teenager shrugged, her dark eyes glinting with humor. "So I have been told."