"To be fair and so you will know there is another reason besides simply seeing you and my sister to account for my coming to where you are. I have not swayed away from being true to our friendship or from loving you—not even a little—but my mother wants me to put my feelings for you behind me, and she believes I will only be able to do this if I come to know a little more about the Blackfoot people, and you in particular." Again, Amelia kepther ownreason for returning carefully buried in her thoughts. Now was not the time to speak of it, if there ever would be a time.
"I have never sought to marry you."
"I know."
"But, your mother is wise, since she is aware of the friendship we formed between us. It is this, I think, that causes her to be alarmed, for we became closer than perhaps she would have liked. She, like your father, is afraid of a marriage between us. But, what she doesn't know is this: we can never marry. Indeed, to marry one another could cause us both unhappiness."
"I don't agree."
"I am not asking you to. But, as you have been forthright with me, I will be so with you, if you do not fear me to speak of concerns that may not be easy for you to know."
"Yes. Please. I am not afraid of what you have to tell me. I probably know anyway."
"Yes. Although we became allied long ago, I have not wished to make you my woman. It is not because there is anything wrong with you or because I do not like you. I do like you. I have always liked you, as you know. But, I fear that were I to seek making our friendship into a romance, my life would be full of conflict and strife. Always, there would be a plan or a scheme you would be urging me to fix for you."
"You would never be bored if we married."
"This is true. However, I would also never have peace in my life. But, we leave a detail behind us which concerns me. Are you aware that if you continue to reject these men who seek your hand, your father might likely force you to marry a man ofhischoosing, not yours?"
Quickly, she froze her thoughts.
After a moment, he asked in the mind speak, "Did you hear me?"
"Yes, I did, and I suppose he could try," she replied. "But, I am, after all, the one who is required to say 'I do.' And, I will tell you again, I love only you and wish to be with you. Still, I have given my word to my mother to renew our acquaintance and to try to give you up." This was all she would say on the matter; she would not lie. She was simply keeping a rather large part of the truth from him.
He was silent for a long while. At length, he said in mind speak, "You have pledged your word to her about this?"
"I have."
Again there was a long pause before he continued, "I say this to you: your mother is wise. You are white; you have no knowledge of my people and what would be required of you as a Pikuni man's woman. And, your experience with me is limited to one snow season, now five winters ago. I think it is mere infatuation you feel for me, not love."
"And, so you know my heart better than I do?"
He paused for a long moment, and she wondered if he had turned his attention to something else. At length, however, he continued, "Again, I will say it: we are like the fox and the wolf. We are natural enemies, but, under the same cause, we became aligned in an effort to help my friend and your sister. Perhaps we should have never allowed ourselves to become friends. But, we did. Remember, we have never been more than allies in a cause, made to be that way because of a great threat to those people who were very beloved to us both. I will tell this to you once more: I wish to be only a good friend to you. Nothing more."
"Why? When I—"
"Because you are not like any girl I have ever known, and, while there is nothing wrong with you, if I were to bring you in close to me, I fear I would never know again what it means to have a sense of harmony and calm in my life. And, I would like to have peace in my lodge. I tell you this again: your mother is right. Becoming my woman can never be in your future, and perhaps your coming here will help you to give up this idea. Indeed, I am thinking I might align myself with your mother and invent ways for you to dislike me."
"Oh, stop it. And, I don't like this concept of 'never' becoming your woman."
"It will not be, simply because I say it will not be."
"But, you are willing for me to become more familiar with you so I might give you up?"
He paused. "Perhaps. That is, if 'becoming more familiar' with each other is about helping you to give up this idea of becoming my woman. Again, I must say this to you: I am not inclined toward marriage with you. Nor should you be trying to be this with me."
"But," she said in the mind speak, "if this be so, and our bond with each other is not based on love, but rather, as you say, a need to help my sister and your friend, why haveyounot married yet? You are not too young to have taken a wife by now."
"I am the way I am because a man must have his feet firmly planted upon the ground before he marries. Do not think it is because I wait for you."
And yet, she knew this was not the complete truth. She knew it because his thoughts and hers were momentarily joined. There could be no lies between them, unless—like she was doing—those ideas were well hidden within his mind.
She glanced at her pocket watch. "Oh dear. I am late. I must go," she said, jumping to her feet. "Our boat is set to sail shortly, and I must be aboard. Wait for me."
"This is my home. I will be here."
The communication ended.
