"It comes. Do you see it, my friend?" asked Gray Falcon.
"I do. And now," said Eagle Heart, "I should rejoin my family. May your acquaintance with her again bring joy to your heart and to hers, also."
Gray Falcon's only response was a nod and a grunt that sounded like a catch that came from deep within his throat.
As his friend trod back toward his family, Gray Falcon looked out at the steamboat as it was negotiating the "big river," aware of the feeling of anxiousness within him. He ignored it.
Both he and his good friend, Eagle Heart, had made this trip to the fort not only to trade, but to ensure the safety of A'sitápi,Young Person, and…wasn't A'sitápi also bringing with her a friend and her friend's husband-to-be, a man who was another one of those mystery painters? If this were so, both he and Eagle Heart would be required to ensure their safety, as well.
As he watched the "thunder canoe" pull into port, Gray Falcon trained his countenance to show nothing—no emotion, no concern and certainly no joy. But, despite his thoughts on the matter, he couldn't help speculating further about her: would he even recognize her?
Of course he would. He knew he would.
But, although they were close in ways even he didn't completely understand, he would stand strong against making further alliances with her, especially those of a more adult nature…in particular, marriage.
Indeed, since his heart was carefree, it should be easy to do.
****
"Laylah!" Amelia cried out her sister's name from the railing of the steamboat,Trapper,even before the ship's disembarking platform had been set into place. She waved her arms.
Oh, the excitement. It had been five long years since she had seen her beloved sister. Until now, she hadn't truly realized how much she had missed Laylah's presence in her life.
From the shore, Laylah waved back, and Amelia could see her smile. But, her sister remained silent.
Amelia turned to Sharon. "Did you see the woman who waved at me?" she asked. "She is my sister."
"She appears to be very Indian from here."
"Yes, well, she has been living in the wilds of Indian Country with her Pikuni husband for five years. Indeed, it looks as though they have a child, for she is holding the hand of a young boy. But then, although my mother has told me Laylah has written to me, her letters have never arrived in St. Louis. But, where is…? I don't see Gray Falcon. Did he not come here to see me?"
All at once, she felt as though she might cry. Hadn't he cared enough to make the effort to be here to greet her?
Sharon took her hand. "I am certain he is here. It has been five years, after all, and he might look differently now than what you remember."
"No, I would know him if I were to see him. His physical appearance means nothing to me. I would know him. And, I don’t…wait, I see someone…a man…there within the trees between the river and the fort. Do you see him? He, with his arms crossed in front of him? That is he. I know it is he. Do you see him?"
"I do. Come, let us delay no longer. We should find David and step ashore."
"Yes, I will come with you. Gray Falcon did come here, after all."
"How could he not?" asked Sharon, grinning. "The poor man would have to listen to your wailing at him, I fear, if he didn't make an appearance."
Amelia laughed. "Yes, well there is that."
****
As Gray Falcon had told his friend, he had picked this particular spot in the tree line because it stood away from the crowds. It was neither close to the place where the "thunder canoe" docked, nor too distant from it.
Indeed, he had spoken true when he'd said he did not wish to be in the company of his fellow countrymen at this moment. This need for solitude, however, was a little uncommon for him because he enjoyed surrounding himself with family and friends. After all, it was the season of Home Days, and, since the days were unusually hot, not only were all of the bands of the Pikuni here, there were also some families arrived here from the Blackfoot band in the distant north country. Yet, he wanted no one around him when he beheldheragain.
He recognized A'sitápi at once, high up, there on the second landing of the boat. Wearing a yellow dress that emphasized her feminine curves, he could see—even from a distance—that she had grown up. He tried to recall the image of the girl he had once known. Certainly, he didn't recollect her bosom being so womanly, nor her waist so strikingly tiny, nor her hips properly rounded and feminine.
She wore a yellow hat, one which was broad in front and round, as though it were emphasizing the beauty of her countenance. Long curls of a light-brownish color swirled around her face. There were white gloves on her hands, and she held a circular box in one of them.
Indeed, the young girl he had known years ago had grown up. Even from this distance, he could see her features clearly enough to realize he was looking at a beautiful woman.
Suddenly he heard her shout out "Laylah!" and saw her wave at her sister. Inwardly, he cringed. Usually when his people were greeting a person who was well loved and who had been gone for many moons, one met the other with a quiet reserve, exchanging little more than warm looks. Reserve was important.
