Chapter 2
It was raining. At least it was in Guy's dream. Drops splashed onto his face as Fox danced naked, twirling, and smiling around a smokey fire. He tried to move his legs but could not. A weight held them down. Slowly his mind surfaced to consciousness. His eyes fluttered open. There, in real life, Fox straddled his lap, wringing water from her long hair onto his face.
She laughed, stood, and slipped on her deerskin sheath. "Must go."
Still groggy, he basked in this feeling of rejuvenation and a promising future.
Kicking his foot, she said, "Go now!" and held out her hand.
Groaning with reluctance, Guy stood and wrapped her in his arms. "You are beautiful."
Unresisting, Fox pressed tight with her arms around his waist.
She smiled, pushing away, and taking his hand. They walked side-by-side toward the village. As they came within sight, a commotion caught their attention. A group of warriors had returned from a successful hunt with game carcasses suspended on poles. A crowd gathered around them. When the old nurse saw the couple approaching, she pointed and spoke rapidly to the men. Everyone turned and stared, one man with a pinched brow and a wrinkled nose of distaste.
Fox turned to Guy, and asked, "You are mine?"
The phrase made his face warm with remembrance. It felt wonderful to belong. Grinning he answered, "I am all yours, Fox."
Placing her hand on his chest, she said, "Stay," then strode toward the crowd.
Guy observed from the forest edge, unsure of how to act, not wanting to appear aggressive or fearful. Although, there was fear mixed in with affection for the brave woman now pointing at him while... explaining? The one, obviously unhappy Brave, became increasingly upset by her explanation, grabbing her arm, and speaking loudly. She yanked away from his grasp and pushed him. When he yelled and moved toward her an older man stepped between them and spoke softly to the aggressor, who seemed intimidated by his senior.
The group turned their attention to Guy. Fox remained behind as the warriors approached. The elder stopped and met his eye. They studied each other trying to read intentions. The man looked down and pointed at Guy's side.
Guy understood. He untied the bottom rawhide knot and pulled aside the deerskin to expose the row of poultice covered sutures. The Braves inspected the injury and spoke in hushed tones before Guy let the hide drop back in place, and said, "Your medicine woman, Walking Doe, saved my life. I'm in your tribe's debt," then he bowed, hoping the display of gratitude, if not the words, were understood.
"I am Wicasa. You saved my daughter," answered the elder in passable French. "I am thankful."
"I am Guy. Happy I was there to help."
"Fox has asked for your... life. Do you agree?"
This seemed an odd question. Was this a request to spare his life?
The sour faced warrior began to speak angrily, but Wicasa responded calmly, and the warrior stomped off. He turned back to Guy, he repeated, "Do you agree?"
"I owe her my life. Yes, I agree."
Wicasa nodded and made an accepting, if not pleased, grunt. Apparently, everything was settled. The group walked away.
Unsure of what to do next, Guy entered the lodge to rest. He was soon interrupted by Walking Doe and her students. She pulled a tiny, sharp-edged bone from her satchel and pointed at his side. With care not to expose too much, he modestly slid open the hide to reveal his wound. The girls gathered around to watch the medicine woman wipe away the poultice and cut the first sinew suture that bound his skin together. She passed the knife to a student, who cut another and passed it to the next girl. Every stitch stung as it was pulled away. Each girl spoke quietly and made comforting eye contact before cutting the stitch. Guy absorbed the pain with barely a twitch. After the last one pulled free another student washed away the fresh trickles of blood.
"Thank you," he said to the group, while covering the angry scar.
Walking Doe placed a hand on his head and chanted something that sounded like a prayer. Some of the girls smiled. Some blushed prettily while glancing away. They gathered the medical waste and left.
Alone once again, Guy lay thinking about all that happened since saving White Fox. Today had been the best day of his life. But then he recalled the lessons Father Francis had taught him about the three major sins, lust of the eye, lust of the flesh, and the pride of life, and realized he was guilty of all three.
White Fox was beautiful to the eye, and she taught him the pleasures of the flesh. He felt proud that the natives saw him as a hero, but he should be giving the glory to God for giving him the strength to endure. He had not been a good witness to these people. Father Francis would be disappointed. God was disappointed.
Eventually, exhaustion overtook him. The lingering smell of stale bodies and wood smoke faded. Despite his sinful torment, the surrounding warmth swept him away to an erotic dreamland. He slowly woke to the feeling of someone touching him. Startled, he lifted his head to see Fox laying a pair of buckskin pants on top of his legs.
She stood up with them in her hand, pointed at the pants, and then at his legs.
"You want me to try them on?"
Fox held them out in answer.
He took them and remained seated while putting his legs in and pulling them up under his tunic. They were tight and short.
"Too small," he said. Then a question came to mind. "Were these your husbands?"
Fox nodded sadly but recovered quickly. "Off." she commanded, motioning for him to stand.
Using rawhide strips, she began measuring his legs, knotting them at the appropriate size. Then she placed her hands inside his tunic at each side opening and wrapped the rawhide around his waist. His sinful dreams had left Guy somewhat aroused. Her grazing fingers on his skin only increased his physical reaction.
"Sorry," he said, as the deerskin revealed an autonomic response, bumping her as she measured.
"No sorry," said Fox, smiling up at him while giving it a friendly pat. She went to the shelf that held all of Guy's belongings and placed them in her satchel. Then Fox walked past him toward the door. Turning, she said, "Come."
He followed through the village, ignoring the stares and smiles. There seemed to be a shared secret that he wasn't aware of. The pair left the village and walked a secluded path into the forest that twisted and turned under a canopy of green defused sunlight. Suddenly, from behind an ancient oak, the angry Brave from earlier stepped out and blocked the path. He grabbed Fox's arm and spoke in a low, angry tone. When she unsuccessfully tried to pull away, Guy stepped in. He dug his fingers into his wrist, forcing her release. The Brave pulled his arm free and menacingly placed his hand on the sheathed knife at his side. Fox spoke to the aggressor in a warning tone while he focused his glare on Guy. Whatever she said seemed to work. He looked at Fox, spat on the ground then quickly disappeared into the woods.
Guy placed his hand on Fox's shoulder, and asked, "Who is that? Why is he mad?"
She took a deep breath, and explained as they walked, "He is Shilah, brother of husband. He wants me as second woman. I no like him. I no like his wife." Turning to look up into his face, she said, "I choose you."
Wife? Stunned, Guy watched Fox continue down the path for long seconds before following. His mind whirling like a dust devil. Their banter of belonging to each other had meant more to her than to him. His inexperience with the natives, and life in general, made him feel foolish. Being attracted to her didn't mean a permanent bond like marriage. The idea never crossed his mind. But as he pondered the idea of having a lover, a wife, and possibly a family who needed him would give him a profound purpose. His past as an orphan and a stowaway, dependent on the kindness of strangers, didn't mean anything to Fox or her tribe. He was a hero to them and appreciated. Would he ever have an opportunity like this again? Would any French woman ever regard him as more than a castoff. The answer: No.
This was the life he'd been searching for, and he'd gladly accept. "Is there a marriage ceremony?"
"What is ceremony?"
"A ritual. A tradition to bond men and women together."
Fox stopped and faced him with searching eyes. "You are not from tribe. No... ceremony. Father agrees. You and I chose us. Is not enough?"
"But... there has to be some kind of contract or... vows before God to be legal."
"What is legal?" she asked, her questioning eyes searching his face with concern.
"Legal is a formal, binding agreement supported and affirmed by the church and laws," he said, realizing there was no legal system in the wilds, only the laws of nature.
Her look softened with understanding and took his hands. "We choose us. We agree to... bind... to be together as one."
The need to speak vows of fidelity burned in his heart. Remembering promises he'd heard as a child, he said, "I will take care of you. Protect and honor you, as long as we both shall live."
Pausing, he pondered the meaning of joining with this woman, and added, "I will provide for our children."
Her eyes filled with tears, as she let go of his hand and placed it on her stomach. "I much want babies with you. They will join two tribes."
Guy smiled, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her gently. The idea of two tribes coming together through their marriage felt wonderfully idealistic. He would do everything in his power to make it so. Father Francis would marry them as soon as possible. Until then, they were officially bound to one another by their choosing.
They continued single file down the path until they came to a meadow covered with purple and white wildflowers. A conical tent made of hides sat on the far edge.
With awe, Guy said, "This is beautiful, Fox."
Fox took his hand and led him. "Home."
The inside was filled with her belongings. Fox showed Guy where everything was stored and placed his meager possessions with what he guessed were her late husband's. "Yours now," she said, as she lovingly touched a bow leaning against the wall.
The reverence that she showed for her dead husband placed a burden on his heart. Was he really man enough to keep her happy?
"You still miss him, don't you?"
"I will always remember," she said, wistfully. Smiling with flooded eyes, she looked up into his. "Now make new memories with you."
He hugged her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. "We will. We'll make wonderful memories together."
After an extended embrace, they parted, and Fox began preparing dinner. "Guy, we need wood for fire."
Although exhausted from the day, he obliged by gathering kindling and dry wood from the adjacent forest. He strategically piled the collection in the stone circle already positioned outside their front door. From his possessions, he used a flint and knife to start a flame.
Fox seemed pleased with his effort while handing him a leather pot. "Water," she said, and pointed to another path.
Guy followed it, and soon heard running water. The stream was wide, the rushing water cold and clear. Filling the pot by dipping it in the flowing stream proved more difficult than imagined. His side ached from the effort. Back home, he hung the pot on the tripod that Fox placed over the fire.
When he winced, she noticed. "Hurt?"
