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A few days later—and early in the morning—Stands Strong's and First Rider's families came riding in close to their camp at Sacagawea Springs. Czanna heard their laughter and gaiety first, then both she and Briella stepped out from their shelter hidden in the willows to watch them.

Although there were only the two families coming to visit, there were many people in the procession. The prairie was flat between the hills and the numerous coulees surrounding Sacagawea Springs. And, from where Czanna stood, she had an easy view of the numerous, colorful and happy people forming a line across the flat land.

What she hadn't expected to hear from this group was their laughter and gaiety. It caught Czanna off guard; these were not a somber and moody people. So, once again, the truth was set before her to see. Indeed, the Europeans telling their stories about these people had lied.

There was noise: the talking and laughter, the giggling of children at their play, the neighing of ponies. And, there was color, lots of color in the beading and the delicate painting of their clothing; there were reds and blues and whites as well as yellows and oranges and greens. Even the ponies upon which they rode were painted with the same hues and designs of their owners. Added to the colors, those ponies were each carrying what had to be the families' numerous possessions in bags painted red, blue, yellow, orange, green and white, some of the parfleches being large and some were small.

Never had she seen a procession such as this. Placing her hand over her eyes, she saw there were four men in all; two were leading the procession and two were following in back of it. All four of these men—who looked to be in their late thirties or early-to-mid forties—all appeared to be rugged, yet handsome at the same time.

The two men who were in the lead were each one sitting upon a handsome pony, one of those steeds in the lead being a white stallion. Behind them came a complete entourage of women, children, dogs and horses followed behind. Of the two men who pulled up the rear of the entire party, one sat astride a white stallion, while the other rode a black-and-white spotted Appaloosa. Seeing them, Czanna now understood, because of her own experience in moving camp, these two men riding behind the entire party were the procession's rearguard.

There were five women with the party, two of them wearing white, beaded buckskin dresses, while the other three wore different shades of beautifully beaded and tanned buckskin dresses. Three of the five women were sitting astride horses that were each pulling a travois, while the two other women—one carrying a baby in a cradleboard upon her back—walked along at the side of the ponies. These two women who were afoot were deep in conversation, though every now and again they laughed.

There were also many children running about in all different directions, and Czanna, who had been trying to count them, soon lost track of exactly how many youngsters were a part of the troupe. Several of the younger boys were engaged in playing games, one of the sports appearing to be much like tag. All of the girls—except for the very youngest of them—were carrying dolls and were quietly talking to one another, which made them easier for Czanna to count. There was one very young girl who appeared to be about the same age as Briella; she was riding upon one of the travois which was latched to a horse, and Czanna conjectured the woman riding this pony was the child's mother. Three of the women were clearly white women, though their pale skin looked to be a light shade of tan. But, these women each had a different hue of blonde hair, which clearly boasted their heritage.

Czanna speculated these three had to be the white women Stands Strong had often spoken of. One of them was his almost-mother; but which one?

There were two other women in the procession who were Indian, having the lovely and permanent reddish-tanned skin color. Both were quite beautiful.

Because the entire troupe was slowly coming in closer to her, Czanna could clearly see two boys—perhaps adolescent boys—who were riding alongside the caravan, one on each side of it. And, Czanna, upon more careful observation of the two youths, knew their task was to guard their families also, though from the two opposite sides of the middle of the group.

One of the two men at the front of the procession rode ahead of the other, and Czanna thought this man might be a chief, not only because his dignity boasted the position, but also because of the unusual horned headdress he wore. Gazing at it, she saw at the top of the headdress were two horns, and, because of their size, the horns could be no other than those of the buffalo bull. It was unusually decorated, also. In front were several long white furry skins that hung down both sides of the man's face, falling clearly down to his chest, each skin being little more than a centimeter wide. The same, though shorter, strips of fur decorated the top of the headdress, as well as some brown fur, there at its top. What looked to be eagles' feathers attached to the headdress hung down from it all the way to the man's waist.

His clothing was white, but whether it was from an animal with a white-colored skin or was from an animal of a darker skin bleached white, Czanna could not be certain, being as she was still somewhat distant from him. Decorated with beading down each sleeve and a beaded strip of leather falling inward from the shoulder, this man's tunic made the sight of him at once dignified. A blue-beaded shell necklace hung down the man's chest in loops, and he looked so elegant she dared to think he might have appeared even more regal than many of the "best people" in Hungary.

As he rode a black prancing stallion, Czanna knew this man had to be a chief.

Following him at a short distance was another handsome man, dressed similarly, but without the horned headdress. This man appeared to be the younger of the two men, though their facial features were similar. However, instead of a horned headdress, this man wore a more typical war bonnet, but it was made in such a way as to cause the feathers to stand straight up, while a cascade of similar feathers hung down from the headdress at the man's back and reached even past his horse's flanks. This man, too, wore all white clothing, his tunic likewise being beaded and decorated in row after row of blue, red and green colors. Both men were mightily armed with bow and arrows, lance, shield, tomahawk and knives. Both carried shotguns upon their laps.

Woe it would be to anyone who might dare to attack them.

Gazing down at her own best light-blue cloth dress, she felt almost drab by comparison. But, it was her best American-bought dress, and it would have to do.

Looking around her own camp, Czanna saw there was no one else but her and her young sister, whom she held by her hand, to greet these people. Where was everybody else? Liliann would be with her father at the springs, of course, but the numerous bushes and tall grasses surrounding the pool hid them from Czanna's view.

Where were the others? Were she and Briella to be the only ones here to greet these people?

Running her free hand down her dress, she pressed the front of her skirt, then took a moment to draw her free hand through her hair, and, for a moment, she wished she looked as elegant as this troupe of people. But, how could she appear to be anything else but wilted? She who, while being afraid of encountering enemies, and who, though being unfamiliar with this country, had yet navigated a prairie wagon single-handedly over the rough prairie terrain and had brought the schooner to this spot safely.

How did these people do it? How did they look so refreshed and so happy despite all the difficulties and dangers of this country?

She was staring at the black-and-white spotted pony of the younger of the two men when it happened: one minute Czanna was holding Briella's hand; the next, her sister twisted her hand, forcing it away from Czanna's grip, then ran forward at the same time toward the chief leading the procession.

"Pretty horsey!" Briella cried, then she laughed gleefully as she sprinted toward it.

Czanna, startled, was not fast enough to respond. And, though she took flight and ran forward as quickly as she could, and though she was shouting "Briella! Stop!" as loudly as she could, she wasn't going to be on time to save her sister from being trampled by the black stallion, which, spooked by the excited youngster, was rearing.

To the man in the lead's credit, he immediately tried to swerve away from the child and control his steed, but even he couldn't make the horse respond quickly enough to prevent its harming Briella. The second man in the lead ran his own horse toward the stallion to try to control it, also.

But, it was impossible. Even now, the horse was bucking and kicking its rear legs, and the two men couldn't quiet it.

As though she were watching the scene from above herself, Czanna realized she was going to be too late to save Briella unless she could sprint even faster. She tried to pick up her speed, then realized they would both be trampled if she could even get to Briella in time.

No! No! This cannot happen! I must save my sister! I must!

"Briella, no! Stop now!" Czanna was shouting with all her might while running with as much speed as she could muster toward the child. "Come back! Please, come back! Please, Briella!"

All of a sudden, the image of Stands Strong sprang into view; he was coming upon them from the side and speeding his own mount in a line directly toward Briella. Guiding his pony with only one hand, he was hanging on to one side of the horse, and, as though he were part eagle honing in on its prey, as soon as his mount brought him in close to the child, he picked Briella up and brought her firmly into his arm at the exact moment his pony made a sharp turn away from the danger, the pony avoiding a collision with the uncontrolled horse, which was still rearing. It wasn't until he and the child were safely away from both Czanna and the others in the procession when she saw Stands Strong at last straighten back up into his seat, the child still held firmly within his arm.

Czanna was running toward them and was crying out at the same time, "Briella! Stands Strong! Thank God you are both safe! I could not bear it if I had lost you both!"

Crying, she sped right up to Stands Strong and his pony, halting beside them and reaching up to take hold of her sister. In an instant, she brought Briella into her arms.

Looking up at Stands Strong, Czanna cried, "I am so sorry she escaped me! It is my fault, but it happened so fast! She was gone before I could catch her! What would I have done if you hadn't been there for her, for me?" She gazed up at Stands Strong with what she felt must be a look of her utter admiration for him, this man who always seemed to be there when she needed him.

He didn't answer. Indeed, he appeared to be as alarmed as she felt. But, instead of scolding her—as Czanna felt she deserved—he simply gazed down at her from where he sat upon his mount, and at last, taking a deep breath, he said, "It is not your fault. What could you have done? I only feared I would not be fast enough to save her. Much of the credit is due to my buffalo pony, who carried me safely to your sister and then safely away."

Then he dismounted, coming to stand before her, and, reaching out, he brought both her and Briella into his arms. He didn't speak. Neither did she.

Briella, however, was not to be silenced, and, looking up at Stands Strong, she wiggled in Czanna's arms and said to him, "Love you, Stan Song. Love horsey, too."

After a moment, Stands Strong answered Briella and said, "I love you, too. Both of you." Then, kissing Czanna's cheek, he murmured, "I fear there is now no manner by which we can hide our love for each other. I fear it is there for all to see."

And, though what he said was true, still, Czanna cried.

****

Supper had come and gone. It had been a wonderful affair, filled with the best Pikuni food, stories and laughter.

Yet,…

Because it was almost summertime, the days were getting longer, and, although the evening meal was over, the sun was only now starting to set in the west. All of the families were seated on blankets set in a circle around a fire pitched in front of the most beautiful tepee Czanna had ever seen. Painted in blue, green and white patterns of stripes, triangles and round circles, it was large enough so that they all could have easily and comfortably gone inside. But, the evening was warm and the sunset too beautiful for the people to be so soon shunted inside.

Czanna took note of the seating arrangements at once: the men sat on one side of the circle; the women on the other. All of the children were included in the circle, although the younger ones, playing their games, ran around the adults but never did they come between their elders and the fire.

Thinking back, Czanna had to admit to never seeing a people so quick in making camp, and she considered the Hungarian Army might be shamed by how soon the women had set up the camp. Indeed, once the chief had announced where they would pitch their encampment—which was on the prairie close to the springs—the women had gone to work.

Amazed at how quickly all of the women—including the young girls, except for the babies—had joined in to raise up each of the lodges, Czanna had watched in awe. The entire task had been done in minutes rather than hours.

Each family's possessions had then been taken off the backs of the ponies and placed within the lodges, while the older boys had led the animals out to the best pasture, two of those boys being stationed there to watch the herd.

At present, Liliann and a few of the older girls were watching the two young ones, one of them being Briella, while Stands Strong's almost-mother held her newborn baby in her arms.

All through supper, and even now with the warmth and buzz of conversations happening all about her, Czanna had done little more than look at Stands Strong where he sat across from her, the evening fire between them. He, too, seeming to be immune to all the laughing and talking, gazed back at her.

Czanna knew she was in moral trouble, if only in her own mind. At present, her every thought was about and centered around Stands Strong. She saw again and again his acts of bravery: Stands Strong coming to help her and her family; Stands Strong teaching her to scout; Stands Strong telling her he loved her. Stands Strong kissing her. Stands Strong saving her sister. But, most of all, he was Stands Strong, the man whom she craved to keep near to her.

Indeed, she had never felt more in love with another human being, not in all her days upon this earth. Her heart and her mind—indeed, all her senses—were begging her to acknowledge one true fact: she should marry this man. Perhaps then, and only then, could she achieve the feeling of closeness she sought with him.

Oh, how she wished she could marry him. But, she dared not. She was charged with a duty to her family, and she couldn't let go of her obligation.

If only their two worlds were more alike…

Their lifestyles, however, were not similar in any manner, and, like a magnet, Czanna felt pulled by both of their culture's opposing poles. Yes, she felt charged with the duty she'd known was hers from her first breath upon this earth. But, she also knew this: never in this entire world would she ever find a man she loved more than Stands Strong. Never. Stands Strong had somehow taken his place within her heart, now and forever.

But, to become an Indian like these three white women, who were now seated beside her and who were chatting happily back and forth, was not in her plans. Two of these women Stands Strong referred to as his almost-aunties. The other was his almost-mother.

Earlier this day, Czanna had met his lovely and charming almost-mother, Sharon, who, holding her baby, was now sitting beside Czanna on her left. Both of his equally fine-looking aunties were seated on Czanna's right. And so, the three women talked to one another back and forth and around Czanna, and while they included her in their conversations, she knew she dare not join in with them.

She supposed it was as Stands Strong had said it would be: there was no way to hide their love for one another from his family. Not now.

And yet, they were not married, nor were they lovers, though they would have been had Stands Strong not possessed the strength to pull away from her that one time when they had been scouting.

Should she give in to him and marry him? His heroism today on her own and her sister's behalf inclined her to believe she should. And, she would certainly marry him if only she didn't have to change who she was in order to become his woman. She could never be an American Indian.

Still, there was a hidden and deep knowledge within her, soothing her fears and pleading with her to listen to her heart, begging her to hear its words:

"He is the one," it whispered. "He is the one man, indeed, who has always been meant to be yours."

As she gazed wistfully at Stands Strong across the fire, meeting his gaze because he was also staring back at her, she knew he, too, was ignoring everything else around him except her, even while she could hear the other men congratulating him on his quick action today.

It was then when, without warning, she was struck by a voice coming straight from her heart.

"It is time," it said. "It is time for you to say goodbye to what once was."

She almost sobbed, recognizing her heart's wisdom. But, was it really true?

It very well could be true, she admitted to herself at last. The past was now gone, to be no more. She was here now. He was here now. And, she loved him.

She sighed, if only to quiet the tingling in her body, for she had, at last, recognized a very basic truth. Even if she were to return to Hungary, she would, indeed, be going back to a different country from the one she had previously known.

True, though her brother had charged her to carry a family treasure to deliver to her cousin, he had also directed her to make a new life here in the American West. Would he be shocked, were he still upon this earth, to find she had changed so completely? That she had gone from being part of the Hungarian gentry to now considering she should embrace a new life—a life as Stands Strong's Indian wife?

Then again, would her brother's supposed shock, were he alive, really matter? Neither her parents nor her brother were here to guide her, and her life in Hungary was gone forever. And, if this were so, why then was she still seeking to garner approval from her former culture and from a society she would never again be part of?

Undeniably, today's events had done much: they had changed her. No longer did she feel the need for approval from a people she didn't even know anymore. In truth, this man was hers; he had said as much to her. She might try to ignore it, but perhaps refusing to acknowledge what was in her heart, here, right now, was not wise, nor was it good for her or for him. She loved Stands Strong, and, with complete honesty, she realized she was as much his as he was hers.

Yes, the time had come at last for her to say goodbye to the past, and, to herself, she whispered, "Goodbye."

Catching Stands Strong's eye, she took courage from her newly found understanding, and, gazing directly at him, she mouthed the simple word "Yes."

He seemed to understand her at once, and she looked on as he briefly closed his eyes while several emotions flitted over his features. When he opened his eyes, he sent her a radiant smile and gave her a tiny, yet distinguishable nod. Indeed, he understood.

Looking away, she smiled. She had uttered no more than the one straightforward word, yet she knew Stands Strong had understood this and more. She was no longer confused about her duty being more important than what he was to her. She wanted him to be a permanent part of her life, and she to always be a part of his.

Sometimes, she decided, it was good to say a fond farewell to a time now passed. It was here and now where she would make a new life…with Stands Strong, and she by his side.

She watched him as he came up to his feet and stepped around the circle of people to come to her. Silently, treading up behind her, he placed his hand on her shoulder, and, reaching up, she laid her hand over his. Then she smiled up at him.

Meanwhile, the entire camp—even the children's voices as well as the air around them—had become quiet, and she knew every eye was upon them, though no one looked at them overtly.

She came up to her feet. And, though she knew she was openly declaring her feelings for this man, what the others might be thinking about her little mattered; she couldn't help the happy pleasure rushing through her, practically bursting to be released. And, as she and Stands Strong paced away from the others, they shared a smile with one another, and then they both laughed, sounding as though they were small happy children.

"Come," he said. "I sought out your brother's approval to marry you this day, hoping you might have a change of heart. But, it will not be until tomorrow when I will seek him out again and bring him horses.

Tomorrow we will go with the others to the white man's fort, but tonight I know of a private place where we may pledge ourselves to each other."

She laughed and murmured, "Yes, please."

****

He led her out into the balmy warmth of evening, the cloudless night hosting the few stars beginning to shine in the dark-blue sky in the east, although pinks, purples and reds were still lighting up the sky in the west. As they stepped toward the pony herd, Stands Strong held Czanna's hand in a tight grip as though he had no intention of letting it go.

However, once within the herd, he let go of her hand to separate out two ponies, and, leading them toward the western side of the herd, he paced a little away, bending down to pick up some blankets. These he threw over the ponies' backs, one of those mounts the "star" of today's adventure.

She asked, "Are we not going to ride only one pony? I have a need, it seems, to be as close to you as possible tonight, and I had hoped…"

He turned toward her, smiling slyly before he said, "I promise we will be very close this night, if only because I do not intend to let you out of my arms, even in sleep. But, there are boys watching the pony herd, and because our families have brought with them no more than thirty horses to care for, those boys will see all we do, though they will turn their backs to give us privacy. Also, although where we are going is not far, we will still be out of the hearing range of my people should we encounter a war party. It is for this reason why we must take precautions to remain safe. And, since each one of us riding a single pony gives us more of an advantage, I think it best if our horses carry only one rider."

As he was settling the buckskin reins into the mouth of each mount, she said, "Oh, all right." But, then she asked, "Where did the blankets and the reins come from?"

Again, he gave her a sexy, yet shrewd grin, saying, "I had set them here earlier…in hopes."

She laughed, then chortled, "I am glad."

"As I am, also," he answered.

He helped her up into her seating on the horse, and sassily she commented, "I thought it was against an Indian man's nature to assist a woman when she is attempting to gain her seat upon her steed."

Again she was treated to his grin. He said, "You forget. My almost-mother is white. She sometimes requires help in getting onto her horse, and my almost-father seems to be more than happy to aid her, stealing kisses from her all the while…that is, when no one is looking."

She laughed. "But, you must have seen them do it in order to be able to tell me about it."

"Of course I have watched them, although I was always well hidden when I looked." They both chuckled before he added, "A boy has to be clever if he is to learn about love, after all."

"Then, I must admire your ingenuity, especially since I am to be the recipient of this knowledge. Are your almost-parents deeply in love, then?"

"They have five children, including me, though they have only been married for fifteen snows. My almost-mother wishes to have a large family, and my almost-father is happy to accommodate her. I believe he would deny her nothing. Yes, they are deeply in love."

"As much as us?" she asked.

"I think so," he answered, "although we are only beginning our life together. Perhaps our love might shine as much or more than theirs, if there were to be such a contest."

"It would be a silly contest."

"Aa, so it would be." He easily found his seat upon his mount.

Observing him and the pony together, she was caught up by an observation: this horse and rider seemed to be of one mind. She said, "This is the same animal you were riding when you rescued my sister today, is it not?"

"It is," he replied. "This stallion is the best buffalo pony in all the tribe. He is not only smart, he knows exactly what I require of him when we ride together. I rarely have to guide him. These kinds of ponies require some training, but they are as excited as its rider when we go to hunt buffalo. He sometimes knows my thoughts before I have the chance to say any words to him." He paused, then added, "He knew we had to save your sister. He was honored and excited to bring me in close to her so I could grab her. He knew, also, the moment when I had her clutched in my arm, and he took a sharp turn away to avoid a collision with the frightened horse Chief Chases-the-enemy was riding. The chief's horse is a recent acquisition and is not yet properly trained. My buffalo pony knew this and was able to speed away without my even having to guide him."

"My goodness. What a beautiful animal he is. I, too, love horses very much. But, I had no idea they could be trained in this way. Is his name Buffalo Horse?"

"Saa, it is not. His name has roots in both the Pikuni and the Lakota languages, since I am both. Naato Omitaa is the Pikuni name for 'Holy Dog' in English."

"Holy Dog?"

"Aá. When these animals first came to the Lakota, my people were quick to see the horse could do the jobs of our dogs, only better. They could carry more of a load and could be trained to help a man in war or in the running of buffalo. They were often smart and have been known to save their masters from harm. And so, the Lakota called this new acquisition 'Holy Dog.' Naato Omitaa is the Blackfeet translation for ?u?ka Wa?a?', which is Lakota."

"How do you say them both?"

"Naa-to Omit-aa is Pikuni. Sun-ka Wa-kan is Lakota."

"I think I have it. Naato Omitaa is Pikuni, and ?u?ka Wa?a?' is Lakota."

He smiled. "I like to hear you speak my language."

She grinned in return. "Is this your own personal name for him, then?"

"It is."

"Good. What name do you use the most when you call to him?"

"I have given him both names, and he knows them both, also. He probably would even come to you if you called him 'Holy Dog.'"

"Perhaps I might," she answered.

"But, I think I shall address him by his Indian names.

Both of them have a lovely sound to them, and since I am now your woman and you are my man, I should learn to speak your language, though it may take me a while to do so."

"It is good," he said as he guided his pony, Naato Omitaa, to where Czanna sat upon her mount.

He brought the animal up on her side, his own horse facing the same direction as her pony.

Reaching out, he took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips where he kissed each of her fingers.

He said, "I care not what language we speak when we are together.

I care only to make you happy with me."

Dropping her hand, he narrowed his eyes and looked away from her to gaze directly in front of him, and, turning around, he looked to his rear, then to each side, his gaze away from her and out into the environment.

She sighed, her fingers still tingling from his caress. But, it appeared he had other matters on his mind.

At last, he looked back her and said, "I neither see nor feel the presence of an enemy. And so, we go. Follow me. The way is not far, but it is enough distant from here to give us privacy."

"I shall," she said, and, bringing her own fingers up to her lips, she kissed them, then blew the kiss to him. As though she had smacked him by the simple gesture, he slipped from his seat and fell to the side of his pony, away from her.

To the sound of her giggle, he regained his seat and said, "áa, my new wife has power in her kiss. I greatly anticipate the night ahead of us, so I might experience more of her power. Do you think I might?"

"Sir, I think you are well aware you will, and I think, too, you are flirting with me."

"Do you only think it?"

Leaning over and reaching out, he caught her around the waist and, lifting her up, brought her into position before him, she sitting sidesaddle. And, as one of his arms came around her, he gathered the reins of both his pony and hers in his other hand and said, "I think you were right. We should be close. But, be warned. All the way to our marriage camp, I intend to show you what I do when I really mean to flirt!"

She giggled and he laughed. But, she stayed right where she was, directly before him on his smart and handsome pony, Holy Dog.