"It was this, and only this, lack of empathy that had at last convinced me that by marrying me, not only you, but any children that would result from our marriage, could come to harm. This, I feared, not for myself but for you.
"Even to this day, I hear the screams of the innocent and feel the horror of what this new cavalry man is causing in this country of the Lakota and Cheyenne. Often, my dreams are filled with the cries and the pain of the dying women and children. So, you see, my change of mind was not without cause. I had not changed because of being told of the destruction and war being waged against the Indian people. I experienced it myself.
"I have since often wondered what kind of men are these. Where have they learned to hate?
"And so, it was not that I loved you less, causing me to feel as if we must not marry. I was convinced it would be best if you were to become the woman of a good white man. I felt in this way that you would stand a better chance of surviving through the war coming into this country. I will fight these men if theycome here, but I would not have you killed because you are my woman."
"But, Red Fox," Poka'aki spoke up, "do you not understand that I would rather stand and die with you than never to know your love? I am not afraid of dying."
"Nor I," he said. "But, I fear none of this matters now. Whether I hear the screams of the innocent most every night or not, we have settled this between us. You are now my woman and are not to be married to a man of your own kind."
Her own kind? Briella could hardly believe what her ears were telling her. Was this really what Red Fox had believed?
Did he not know the truth? The Pikuni were her own people. For as long as she could remember, she had been embraced by these people as being one of them.
In truth, this was all she had known in this life…at least since she had been three years in age. It was here in Pikuni country where she had grown up. This was her land, her home; these were her people. Yes, she had also been given a European-style education few of the Pikuni possessed. But, these Blackfoot people knew more about life and about the nature of life than she might ever know.
She responded to Red Fox, asking, "But, my darling, what do you mean by 'my own kind'? Don't you know you and your tribe are my own people?"
"You are white," he responded.
"Yes?And?"
"Being white, the soldiers would not kill you."
"I am not certain the color of skin would make any difference to men intent on murdering all within their sight. And, I will not be intimidated by them, nor will I ever bow down to such men."
She watched Red Fox carefully as he nodded his head. Then he said, "Such a woman warrior you are, and if you weremine to the eyes of your family and mine, I would honor you as you should be honored."
"I care not about being honored."
"Of course you do not. But, as I have already said, it matters not anymore. We have committed the deed to marry us. It is now my task to approach your father with gifts to ensure he knows of our union."
Briella took in a deep breath before responding to Red Fox. Looking out from their position beneath the willow tree, she saw only more of the bending and waving willow branches that hid both her and Red Fox from the eyes of any war party. So as to be certain they would not be found by an enemy, they were whispering to one another as well as using sign language.
But, before embarking upon a discussion with him of her own plan and the merits of being married without officially being married in the eyes of the world, she glanced up at the colorful dark-blue and gray clouds above them, colored here and there with the fiery, dark pink of dusk. And, as the twilight of evening settled in over the land, the scent of the stream running close by to them rose up into the air, bringing its clean, refreshing aroma to her nostrils. Here in the north, during the summer months, the sun took a long time to set, painting the land for a lengthy period in colors of blue, brown, red, primrose and orange, and more often than not there was a scent in the air over the land that spoke of it settling in for an evening of rest.
So beautiful. So relaxing. True, the willows hid the majority of the sky overhead, but she could glimpse enough of it through the branches to bring about a calmer feeling regarding what she must relate to Red Fox: she could never marry him in fact.
But, how was she to bring about his agreement with her plan?
To think of what he had suffered in order to understand why her father was against their marrying… Would he now hate her because of her refusal to marry him in both his world and in hers? Or would he think she was what was known to the Pikuni as a woman of little value?
Inhaling deeply, she began to speak of what must be said between them. And, she murmured, "I do not wish you to approach my father about us."
He didn't respond. Had he heard her?
Assuming he had, she continued and said, "I must marry a man I have brought home with me, a man called Maximillian. I have promised my father and my brother, as well as Max, himself, that I will marry him."
Again, Red Fox didn't say a word. However, his arms around her loosened. It was hard to not notice the slight change since she was sitting against him, her back against his chest, their legs entwined and set out in front of them.
But, when Red Fox made no comment, she continued with her confession, if only because something within her demanded she must now tell him the truth, even though it might paint her in an image she did not wish him to hold of her. But, it had to be done; it had to be said.
"Yes, I must marry him because my father and my brother demand it. And, I have promised them I will carry through with the marriage, even though he has brought his mistress with him to my home."
"Mistress? What is this?"
"His lover."
