She Steals my Breath by Karen Kay

CHAPTER ONE

Fort Union Trading Post

The Eastern Montana Territory

October 1834

“I tell you true, there is such a creature as a white woman.  I have seen her here this very day.”

Eagle Heart cast a doubtful glance at Gray Falcon, his napí, friend.  “A white woman here?” he asked.  “What you say cannot be so.  All the tribes are speaking the same words about the white man: he has no women.  In all these years we have known this man, we have never seen his women.”

“Ha’!  I do not lie, my friend.  I saw her here.  Today.  Come with me to the trading room.  You will see her, too.”

“I am not interested,” replied Eagle Heart.  “But tell me, does she have long hair on her upper lip and chin, as well as all over her body, like the white man?  Does she smell as bad as all white men do?  And, is her hair dirty and greasy from failing to bathe?  Saa, I do not wish to see this creature.  I might lose the contents of my stomach.”

“I will not tell you any detail about her, my friend.  Come and look at her and decide for yourself if she has all these features you speak of.”

Eagle Heart shook his head.  “I do not wish to witness the ugliness of this white woman.  It might spoil the image of a woman’s beauty for me.  Besides, I must make inquiries about my brother, since, as you know, this is the only reason I have made the long journey to the white man’s fort.”

“Napi, my friend, it will take but a moment to come and look at the woman.  Then go your own way.”

Eagle Heart sighed.  Truly, he was not interested.  However, if taking a look at this being would appease his young friend, he would do it.   And so, he found himself saying, “Okí, let us go so I might look at this ugly and smelly creature.”

“Áa, yes…this is a good plan.”  Gray Falcon smiled.

“Okí.  Shall I hold my breath so I do not have to smell her stench?”

“Perhaps, my friend.  Perhaps.”

****

The trading room was busy this day in early October.   Three Blackfeet men were standing at the counter, quietly bargaining with the trader, Larpenteur, over the price of their furs, while seven enemies of the Crows and ten men from another enemy tribe, the Assiniboines, lounged against the cottonwood logs that were used for the walls of the room.

All the Indians, himself included, had been divested of their weapons upon entering the fort.  The owner of this place, McKenzie, insisted upon this, stating it was done for their own and the company’s safety.  And yet, the white men and trappers were always armed.  So deaths occurred here anyway.

It was why Blackfeet men did not allow their women to accompany them to the white man’s post.  Simply put, it was too dangerous.

Eagle Heart took a deep breath at the same moment he realized the room did not stink.  Instead, it was scented with the aroma of trees, logs and the distinctive fragrances of autumn leaves.  Certainly, he didn’t notice there was much unusual this day, and there was no white woman he could see.  But, giving his friend his due, he decided to wait.

Looking around the room, he noticed Gray Falcon had positioned himself so he was leaning against a far wall, directly across from the tables used for trading.  He joined Gray Falcon there, and, leaning back, crossed his arms in front of his chest, prepared to wait.

Unexpectedly, the delightful sound of a feminine laugh filled the air.  He frowned, surprised, for the voice was pretty.

And, then he saw her: she was standing behind the trader, Larpenteur, although when she moved slightly, Eagle Heart caught a glance of bouncing brown curls with a hint of gold within them.  And, those locks were shimmering against a very pretty face.  She laughed again and took a few steps around the clerk, a smile still affixed to her pretty face.  She was glancing up at the Larpenteur, and Eagle Heart experienced a startling reaction: he forgot to breathe.

She was that beautiful.  Her figure was slim and small, her profile showing off a perfect nose that turned up slightly at the end.  Her eyelashes were long and brown and her eyes were a brilliant color of green.  Her cheeks were rosy and her full lips were still smiling.  The color of her hair  was a shade he had never seen on a woman until this moment.  It was brown with gold intertwined within it, and the length of it fell down her back in luscious curls.  And, he saw not a single hair on her face.

Eagle Heart tried to breathe in.  He couldn’t.  She had literally taken his breath away.

At this moment, he couldn’t force himself to look elsewhere, and he felt as awkward as a young old boy who was besotted by a girl.  It was, however, impolite to stare, and Eagle Heart at last glanced away from her, only to return his gaze upon her when he heard her say, “Mr. Larpenteur, how good of you to write down all of your transactions.  It is to be regretted, however, that I cannot read your handwriting.”  She grinned up at the man.

And, Eagle Heart experienced the sensation of his stomach dropping, as though there lived both moths and small butterflies within it.  Of course, he had no idea what she’d said, for she didn’t speak the same language as he.  All he knew was her voice sounded as lovely as the song of the meadow lark.

“Ohpo’kiiyoo!  Follow!”  Gray Falcon nudged him in the ribs.  “I am leaving here.  Okí! Come on, let us go.”

“Saa, I do not wish to leave from here yet.”  From his peripheral vision, he saw Gray Falcon frown at him.

“I admit she is pretty,” said Gray Falcon.  “Still, I do not understand how a white man’s seed can make a woman to be so comely.  But it is so, is it not?”

“Áa, it is so.”

Within a moment, another man, a tall, dark-haired fellow with a mustache that curled at its ends, appeared behind the woman and put his arms around the woman’s waist.  She didn’t admonish him, as Eagle Heart thought she should, since this was a public place.  Instead, she laughed softly and turned into the man’s embrace.

She must be married to the man.

Eagle Heart couldn’t fully understand the feeling that swept over him, for his spirits plummeted.  It was odd, because whether she was married to the curly-haired man or not, it was nothing to him.  She was beautiful, yes, but she was also married, as any fine-looking woman should be.

“It is said that she is not yet married to this man who holds her,” said Gray Falcon as though reading his friend’s thoughts.  “Although it is also said they are soon to be married.  I think the man uses her, for he should not be keeping her so close to him if they are not married…and before all eyes to see.”

“It is so, my friend,” Eagle Heart responded.  “Yet, the whites are a strange people and we do not yet know their ways.  Perhaps a white man is permitted to hold her, even if they be not married.  But still, he should not do this in front of others in case her reputation will be soiled.  Okí, come, let us leave.  I must ask the white men in this fort if they have any knowledge about where my brother might have gone, for I would be on my way.”

Gray Falcon simply nodded and the two friends quietly left the trading room.

****

Laylah McIntosh watched as two of the Indian gentleman stood away from the wall in front of her and left the room.  She wasn’t certain what it was about them that caught her eye, for there were many Indian men here.  Perhaps it was the elegant manner in which the two of them were clothed, for their buckskin clothing was bleached a startling white, and, set off as it was with the contrast of their black hair, their dress alone looked as elegant as any man’s might, white or Indian.

Or perhaps it was the muffled sound of their footfalls that brought her attention to them, for they made little sound as they crossed the room.  With no boots to announce their departure, their footfalls were almost silent.  They were both tall, also; their shoulders were squared back and their steps seemed oddly graceful.

“Mr. Larpenteur,” asked Laylah softly.  “What tribe of Indians are those two men?  The ones wearing white?”  She nodded toward them.

“They be Pieds noirs, Mademoiselle.”

“Pieds noirs?  Do you know the English name for the tribe?”

“De Blackfeet, Mademoiselle.”

“The Blackfeet?  The tigers of the Plains?”

“Oui, Mademoiselle.”

“How strange they should be so well dressed,” she said.  “I have heard the Blackfeet guard their land well and will kill any white man they find in their territory.  It seems rather savage, and yet, to look at them…they seem almost stately.”

“Oui, Mademoiselle.  De Blackfeet look so, but rob…I am rob by the Pieds Noirs too much!  Di Pieds Noris wild.  Ieet has been so since Monsieur Lewis and Monsieur Clark kilt a man of de Pieds noirs, de Blackfoot Ingin.”

“It is good you have told me about them.  I shall do all I can to keep them distant from me, and shall make a mental note to never go into their country.”

“Indeed, you shall not,” agreed Thomas Sutter, who was Laylah’s fiancé.  He placed his arm around her waist and drew her in close to his chest.  “Instead,” he continued, “we shall return to St. Louis as soon as your visit to this land is finished.  And, once there, we shall marry.  Where would you like to live, M’dear.  Here?  Or in St. Louie?”

“I am uncertain, yet, as you know.  I love my home in St. Louis, but there is some undefined aspect about this land that causes me to feel peaceful, as though this is my home.”  She sighed.  “But, we don’t have to decide now, do we?  After all, we have yet to explore the woods and plains in the country.   Indeed, if the intriguing scent of the autumn leaves and the atmosphere in this country is a sample of the beauty to be found here, I admit to being captivated by it.”  Stepping out of his embrace, she chanced to give Thomas a flirty smile from over her shoulder as she laughed up at him.  “Excuse me, Thomas, for I must put my attention on business.  My father has asked me to look over the business transactions we’ve had today.  As you know, I have an affinity for numbers and often help him with his accounting.”

“Shall I assist you with it?”

“Only if you please.  This will take me but a moment.”  She scanned down the transactions that had occurred so far this day, committing each sale to memory so she might recount them later to her father.

As the daughter of Robert McIntosh—one of Fort Union’s partners—she had unconsciously made herself into a business asset when her father had discovered she could memorize a page of numbers quickly and remember them again at will.  And so, according to her father, her talents were to be kept within the family of traders, thus her upcoming marriage to Thomas, who, though a young man, was already a junior partner in this business.  Of course his family had helped obtain his status, for they had financed this fort in part, as well as the trading post, Fort Cass.

Although one could argue her upcoming marriage was one of convenience, she believed this was not entirely true.  She had fallen under Thomas’ spell almost from the first moment she’d met him.  His fine manners and his tall, good looks had combined to urge her to say “yes” to his proposal of marriage.  That her father had encouraged her to wed Thomas had also swayed her decision, for the marriage would tie their families financially.

Her mother had been silent concerning her daughter’s upcoming marriage.  True, she had shown no negative emotions, though there had been no positive encouragement, either.

Her younger sister, Amelia, was, of course, excited about the upcoming marriage.  But, Amelia was young and her nature tended to be naïve, at best, and in truth, she was prone to question very little in life.

Laylah sighed, thinking back to the two young Blackfoot men.  Untamed they might be, but it had been a crowning feather in her father’s cap that he had coerced the Blackfeet to come to Fort Union to trade; especially since the Blackfeet held the reputation for being the most feared tribe of Indians on the plains.  Of course, the Blackfoot men had objected at first, for they hadn’t wished to make the long journey to Fort Union.  Yet, here they were.

She frowned.  It was hard not notice the two Blackfoot men, since both were young and handsome in an exotic and uncultivated way.  But, she put thoughts about them from her mind.   Good-looking though they might be, they were still Indian, and therefore, dangerous.

Besides she would never see them again.  On this thought, she put her speculations to rest, and, having committed the page of numbers to memory, turned around to hug her fiancé.

****

Eagle Heart despaired of ever coming to know what had happened to his brother.  No one at the fort seemed to remember seeing a man who looked much like Eagle Heart, himself.  Yet, he couldn’t be certain what these people said, since it was almost impossible to communicate to the whites.  Why no one at this fort had learned the language used everywhere on the Plains—the language of gestures—was a mystery.

He wished he could make enquiries from the other Indians at the fort, for they were familiar with the gesture language.  But, he couldn’t.  These other Indians—the Crows and Assiniboines—were his traditional enemies.  Not that he was afraid of them.  It was simply that being enemies, they were honor-bound to lie to him.

Somehow he would have to make himself understood by these white men.  There was no other way.

So, it was to this end, he stepped into the room used for trade.  It was a sunshiny day on this month of “the leaves falling,” and, while a part of him hoped She-steals-my-breath, the beautiful white woman, might be present, another part of him dismissed her from his thoughts.  She could mean nothing to him.  With a force of will, he put her out of his mind.

Yet, as he stepped up to the trading tables, he saw that she stood on the white man’s side of the tables.  Looking up, she stared straight at him, and, though it was forbidden for a Blackfoot woman to face him so boldly, he was yet reminded how beautiful a pair of green eyes could be….

****

“Mr. Larpenteur, I believe he is asking you for information about his friend, or his brother.  I’m not certain which it is.”

The trader frowned down at her.  However, she didn’t flinch.  “How de ye know thees, Mademoiselle?”

“My father,” she said, glancing downward, “hired an older Indian gentleman from one of the southern tribes to instruct both me and my younger sister on this language of gestures.  He insisted on our learning it before we were allowed to make this trip into the North Country.  He said if anything bad ever happened to us, we would at least be able to make ourselves understood.  Shall I ask this man what it is he is seeking?”

“Oui, Mademoiselle.”

She nodded and, inhaling deeply, brought her right hand up to ask the Indian, “Question, who it is you are seeking?”

“Halt!” he said in gestures, bringing his right hand up, instead of down, for emphasis.  “I do not speak to women.”  He added a frown at her and looked so sternly at her, she felt faint in reaction.

But she didn’t faint.  Instead, she gulped, and, looking down and away from him, signed, “No one here speaks the language of gestures.  If you wish to be understood you will have to communicate to either me or my younger sister.  If you prefer to talk to my sister, I will fetch her.”  She chanced a quick glance up at this man who towered over her.  Why, he must be over six feet tall.

He was also outrageously handsome in a wild sort of way: black, straight hair, which was decorated with a single feather, hung from a braid on the right side of his face; it was his only hair ornament.  He had pulled a portion of his bangs forward and had cut them so a part of them fell down over the center of his forehead, as seemed to be the custom in this untamed land.

He still wore the handsome, white clothing she had seen him wear a few days previously, and up close she could look at and admire the blue, white and yellow circle sewn onto his shirt.  It was placed in the middle of the buckskin clothing, was level with his chest and seemed to be made of porcupine quills, as well as beads.  Fringe hung from the sleeves of his shirt, and some of the fringe was made-up with black hair.  She shivered to think of the reason why this kind of hair ornamented his shirt.

Fierce though he might be, there was an unknown quality about him that drew her.  His eyes were black, his nose straight and slightly aquiline, but not overly so.  His lips were full and the color of his skin was tan, not red, though there might have been a slight tint of red running beneath the outer layer of his skin.  He wore no paint as did most of the Indians here at the post.  This observation eased her nerves a little, for she had heard it said that the Indians painted themselves only when going to war.

Still, she shivered at the thought of any man having to go to war with an Indian like this.

But he was answering her question, and she gave his hand-signs her full attention.  He said, “I see I have startled you.  There is no threat or insult meant to you; rather, a man should not speak to a woman who is not his wife.  To do so abuses her standing with her people, and can cause a man’s woman to be jealous, also.”

“You are married, then?”  Laylah signed, then gulped and looked away from him.  Why had she asked him this?

But, he seemed unoffended and was responding to the question.  “I am not,” he stated by means of the gestures.  “But I believe you are.”

She shook her head and signed, “I am not yet married, but am soon to be.”

He nodded, then signed, “If you do not object to the possible harm speaking to me might bring to your reputation, I do have questions no one has been able to answer.  Do you object?”

She shook her head, “No.”

“This is good.  I am seeking my brother,” he signed.  “He looks much as I do, but is older than I.  He came here a few months ago with a party seeking trade.  The others returned home, but my brother was not with them, and none of them knew what had happened to him.  My family worries about him.  Besides trade, it is why I am here.  He was last seen at this post.”

“What is his name?” she signed.

“Chases-the-enemy.”

She nodded, then asked Larpenteur, “Sir, do you know a Blackfoot man called Chases-the-enemy?”

“ Oui, Mademoiselle.  He ees Blackfoot chief.”

“Chases-the-enemy is this gentleman’s brother, and he is trying to discover what has happened to his kin.  People from his tribe say he was last seen here.  Do you know any stories concerning him that might indicate where he could have gone or why he didn’t return home with the rest of his party?”

“Oui, Mademoiselle.  There be here a Crow girl from de West.  He stole her.  He is to be gone…with Crow girl.  Her family very much…angry.  Go after.”

“You’re certain of this?”

“Oui, Mademoiselle.”

Laylah nodded.  Then, turning toward the Blackfoot gentleman, said aloud, “Mr. Larpenteur”—she pointed to the clerk, then continued in sign—”says your brother stole a Crow girl and left.  Her family went after him.”

He nodded.  “When?” he signed.

Laylah turned to Larpenteur, “When did this take place?”
“I am to tell you, Mademoiselle, eet be five month.  Maybe he captured.”

“This happened about five months ago,” she signed.  “Mr. Larpenteur”—she pointed again to the clerk—”says your brother and the girl might have been captured.”

With his hands flat and extended outward, he sent them forward and toward her in a sweeping motion, effectively saying, “Thank you.”

She nodded, then signed, “What are you called?  My name is Laylah.”  She spoke her name aloud.

But he didn’t answer.  Instead, he reached upward toward the feather in his hair, loosened it, put it in his palm and extended it toward her.  When she reached out to take it from him, he closed his other hand over hers, and when she gazed up at him, he nodded and gave her to understand the feather was now hers.

Then he smiled at her and said, “Nitsíniiyi’ taki, Aakíí-ikamo’si-niistówa-siitámssin,” and Laylah thought the earth might have moved beneath her feet.  She didn’t know what to do.

The timbre of his voice was low, baritone and pleasant and it, added to his touch, affected her oddly.  Her entire body was shivering, but whether from fear or a reaction to his words, his touch or his voice, she didn’t know.

She did, however, accept the feather.  Moreover, she thought she might come to treasure it.  Always, it might remind her of a handsome Blackfoot warrior who had once shown her kindness.