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Czanna had originally considered waiting until Stands Strong returned, knowing he would come home sooner or later. However, although she was well aware of his "disappointment" in her, she, too, was disillusioned with him.

Was she honestly expected to never again speak to a member of the other gender? And, this was so because of a "custom" a man could use to his own advantage?

No, she would not do it. It wasn't right.

Yes, all creatures should use discretion in a matter concerning jealousy; this she could agree to. But, to have to follow a general rule of never again being able to talk to another man or boy…?

She couldn't, she wouldn't agree to it.

But, on the other hand, she was married to Stands Strong—a man she loved with all her heart. And, if he believed this custom held legitimacy…

Oh, what am I to do?

It was the asking of this question that caused her to know what her path must be: she had to leave, if only to gain a few hours of peace. She would walk out of camp and go somewhere away from here; she would find a place where she could come to peace with her own thoughts and fears. Perhaps, she might even envision a resolution between her and Stands Strong.

Yes, this was a good plan, and this was right, but she shouldn't go too far away. However, it needed to be distant enough so the drums and the singing within the camp wouldn't interfere with her own personal soul-searching.

Upon stepping out from their lodge, she beheld Stands Strong's favorite pony tied up next to the tepee.

She was about to turn away when she heard the silent talk from the animal, and it said, "I will go with you. I see you are grieving, and I wish to go with you."

Czanna almost cried, and she felt for a moment as though the animal understood her dilemma. Stepping toward the pony, she placed her head against its own.

And, she said to it silently, "I cannot take you with me. You do not belong to me. Rather, you are my husband's favorite mount. But, your empathy for me brightens my heart."

Naato Omitaa answered her thoughts, saying in the mind-talk, "You should not leave here alone. I will go with you. Your man, my master, will understand. If he does not, I will tell him."

Czanna couldn't help what she did next: she broke into tears. She said, "I…I…"

"Take me with you," the pony insisted.

Czanna nodded, and, reaching out for the knots tying the animal, she quickly untied its bindings; then, taking hold of its reins, she led the pony out of the camp.

****

The sun was only beginning to set in the west, sending up its orange, golden and even red streaks into the sky when Stands Strong at last felt himself able to return to his lodge, there to speak with his wife without being in the throes of anger or resentment. Upon stepping closer to their lodge, he saw his pony was missing.

Gazing at the ground, he could discern at once what had happened: here was the trail of his wife, as well as his pony's, the animal following along behind her. Still, he threw back the tepee flap and glanced inside, confirming what the prints in the earth told him: his wife was gone and she had taken Naato Omitaa with her.

The tracks left upon the earth showed him that she wasn't riding the animal. Instead, she was guiding it, and his pony appeared to be following her meekly enough. It was all there to be read upon the earth.

Soka'pii, good. His pony would serve to protect her as well as it could.

He followed their trail easily, her boots alone leaving a distinct impression upon the ground, they being so different from the many other moccasin imprints of the others. This made following them so easily done he could do it almost without thought.

She was heading in the direction of the western hills, and leisurely he kept pacing along where their path led. He did not worry about her possible abduction. No war party would dare come into a Blackfoot encampment where all the people could easily thwart them.

That's when he heard it: his wife's voice, rising up into the air and filling the atmosphere for a good distance around her. The song she sang was sad; it was consuming also, yet the lyrical notes of the song were so beautiful, they wrenched at his heart.

Have my words to her provoked this?

Indeed, it had to be. How could he think otherwise?

Gently, and without willing it, tears stung his eyes, and he paused, listening to her voice and the melody of her song, so ethereal. She was singing in English rather than a language he didn't understand, and he lingered there, hidden from her, listening to her words:

Dear God, help me to understand what I must do.

Do I stay?

Do I go?

I love him so; I must stay with him.

But, to stay means I must again change who I am.

And, I cannot. I will not.

Dear God, help me to understand what I must do.

Do I stay?

Do I go?

I love him so, and yet to stay requires of me to change who I am.

Dear God, help me to understand what I must do…

The song continued on in a like manner; the timbre of her voice was clear, yet so sad, so exquisite, Stands Strong felt his own heart was breaking by simply listening to her. Again he wondered: was he really the cause of so much sadness within her?

Yes, he admitted; his words, though not unkind, had been laced with the fervor of jealousy. Seeing his wife laugh so merrily with a white—and handsome—man had truly stirred up his vehemence.

But, conversely, there had been some truth in his words. She couldn't go about doing as she had most likely done in her life before coming here. This environment did not allow a woman to speak to a man with such obvious delight, since a man, both Indian and white, would look upon her as a prize to be won, not someone to speak with in mere conversation.

Even considering she did not wish to be such a prize and so would need his protection, he could not be with her every moment of every day. Honor bid him to help his tribe by scouting. Duty caused him to leave every day on the hunt.

If she continued to talk to any man as she wished, and with nary a thought to the consequences, she could be taken over by a man's superior strength and forced into servitude to the man or worse. If only she could defend herself like a man.

He paused, frowning. Defend herself like a man…

Was this a possible means to resolve this matter between them? When he was required to be away from camp, either hunting or scouting, could he demand she carry a rifle, a gun and several knives…maybe even a hatchet?

Perhaps. But, she would have to know how to use those weapons without hesitation, and, being female, her nature might make her hesitate to damage another, allowing the stronger power of a man to take her weapons from her and use them against her.

Yes, he could demand she arm herself, but if she were to be safe in carrying this kind of equipment, he would have to teach her how to use the weapons, as well as educate her into the mindset where she would not hesitate to use them. If he could do this, and if she would allow him to teach her, perhaps then she could talk to another man without injury to herself and without him personally and constantly being worried about her, or worse, having to defend her honor.

Still, though he wished to bring comfort to her now, he didn't disturb her nor her song. Instead, he continued to linger out of her sight, watching over her, guarding her. And, his heart broke each time he heard her cries. But, still he didn't disrupt her, realizing she needed this time to be alone.

He watched as she stood away from the overlooking cliff where she had been perched and then reached out for his pony, who stood at her side. Gathering up the pony's reins, she began the trek back toward their camp. Still Stands Strong didn't announce himself, although he followed her at a distance and kept to a much slower stride.

Once back in the encampment, she didn't at once return to their shared lodge. Instead, as she came in sight of his almost-parents' tepee, she stopped, announced herself, and, leaving his pony outside their lodge, she entered it. When he heard the welcome greetings from within, he knew it was only a matter of time before she would return to their own lodge.

Good. It was good.

He stepped slowly forward toward his almost-parents' tepee to ensure his pony was tied up securely there; then, with this done, he trod toward his own home. And, upon entering into their lodge, he began to think of various ways he might present this idea of carrying arms to her until, at a loss to broach the subject, he gave up his wondering. He would have to let their love for one another dictate what would be and what should be said.

Reaching into one of his parfleche bags, he withdrew his flute which he had fashioned by hand. A Lakota man, since time out of mind, was well known to play the sad notes of the flute when he went courting the woman of his heart. Hence, Stands Strong had carved out this flute many years ago, knowing there might come a time when he would need its strength.

Perhaps its magic might work its wonders yet this night.

****

The sad notes of a flute reached out to Czanna, and she stared around the Indian camp. Where was it coming from? And, who was playing it? Its scale was in a minor key, and its sad, beautiful and forlorn notes tugged at her heart.

So strange. The sound vibrations of the flute seemed to mimic the lyrical refrains of the European instrument, with which she was familiar.

But, a flute? Here? In an Indian camp?

For a moment, the music stopped, and she stepped in closer to the lodge she shared with Stands Strong, where she petted and bound Naato Omitaa to his post, kissing the pony on his head. It was then when the music started again, and she recognized it was coming from within her own lodge.

Obviously, Stands Strong had to be within. Inhaling deeply for strength of mind, she pushed back the entrance flap and stepped inside.

It wasn't long before she recognized the sad, ethereal melody her husband was playing. Oddly, it was her own song—one she had composed this very day. But, for a reason she didn't know, his playing it on his flute sounded even more sorrowful than her own song had been.

But, surely he hadn't been there with her today. And, if not, how did he know this melody?

Coming a little farther into their tepee, she stepped toward her quarters within their lodge and sat directly across from Stands Strong. She didn't look up at him. Gazing down, she simply listened.

The song went on and on, and when at last the melody stopped, she glanced up to find her husband gazing back at her, his countenance serious. She sighed; was he going to lecture her again?

But, he said not a word. Instead, as he sat before her, he looked at her wistfully as though he would like nothing better than to take her into his arms.

He did not do it, however. Instead, they sat there together, merely staring at each other in silence—and for what appeared to be a very long while, indeed.

At last, he said, "I have saddened you, and it was not in my heart to do this to you when we spoke earlier. I wish I could take back my words and my anger, but I cannot. What was done is done. All I can do now is to try to make it better for you."

She looked away from him, and she felt her lips shaking as she said, "I, too, am saddened by our talk, and I realize now I, too, should not have said what I said to you. I apologize. You should know, though, that I meant what I said then. But still, I am deeply grieved to have caused you to become disappointed in me. My husband, I do not know what to do. I still feel as I did then, though it greatly grieves me."

"I know," he uttered softly. "I admit part of my anger was because of jealousy, and this is not right. But, part of it was also concern for your safety. Because of the manner in which you have been raised, I fear there is a danger for you here."

"You mean, do you not, because of my belief in my right to seek love outside of marriage?"

He nodded.

She sat forward a little. "But, my husband, this is no longer how I think or what I feel. When I said my vows to you, this notion fled from me forever. I love you, my husband, and only you—and with all my heart. There is no place in my heart for any other man but you."

He nodded. "So it is with me, also. I, too, feel this way about you. But, hear me on this," he said when she began to speak again. "Men are stronger than women. The Creator has made it so. And, when a man wants a woman, he is inclined to take her regardless of her wishes, because, my wife, to the men of these plains, white or red, you are sought after much like the white men seek gold. Many will lust after a woman so beautiful as you, and they will wish to take what is not theirs to take. Your talking with them can reinforce this lust within a man and give him cause to think you favor him. And, this is the danger."

"But, I never had this problem in the land where I was raised," she countered. "I was free to speak to whomever I wished. Not all men wish to take what is not theirs."

Again he nodded, then said, "This may be, but you are no longer in the land where you were raised. I do not lie to you about a man's nature in this place where you now find yourself. My problem is this: I cannot always be here with you. There are times when I have duties elsewhere.

"Now, Indian mothers know this about the nature of men," he continued, "and they shelter their daughters until they marry. But, once she is married, it is the duty of her husband to protect her, and this I cannot do if I am not here. And yet, though I know your speaking to a man tempts him, I also understand your right to talk to whomever you choose. This is the way in which you have been raised, and you are right about this. The Creator gives you this right."

Czanna sat in silence. She understood and yet…

"But," he continued, "perhaps there is a way to make us both happy about your speaking to other men, even when I am not here to protect you."

"Yes? There is?"

"I have given this much thought," he said as he laid down his flute, the instrument, she noted, fashioned much like a recorder instead of a flute. It looked very much like a long bird with a red plume on its head at the end of the flute and its mouth open. It was also decorated with feathers and beads, and it was an instrument like no other she had ever seen.

Stands Strong, having placed his flute aside, came up to his feet and trod around the fireplace, which now contained a fire happily burning, crackling and spitting out sparks that were contained by the stones placed around it.

Sitting down beside her, Stands Strong took her hand in his own and said, "I begin to think this way: if you were equipped to go about your duties well-armed with shotgun, pistol and knives, and if you knew how to use those weapons like a man, I would perhaps not worry about your safety so much.

"It would require an effort for us both," he went on to say. "I would be required to train you on your weapon's use, but more. I would have need to ensure you would be of a mindset to use those firearms against another if there were to be a need of having to defend yourself. You see, a woman's heart can be soft, and she might hesitate to act instead of presenting a solid force against a man's intention. Because he is stronger and trained for war, if a woman would hesitate to use her weapons against him, he could take these from her and use them against her."

"Really? You would do this for me?"

He nodded, then continued, "I do not wish to enforce rules upon you which are strange to you and are about matters you do not agree are right. But, be warned: what I am suggesting would require your having to follow me each day out on the hunt so I could ensure your aim is good and your spirit is set to do what must be done to survive against a man's lust if necessary, but—"

"I would have to follow you to hunt and learn how to kill an animal for food, and I would also need to be with you day in and day out while I would be learning to shoot?"

"I fear it is the only way."

"Well, my husband, I do not understand why this seems to sadden you. I think it is a very good idea. Indeed, it is so good, I am wondering if we might start now…tonight?"

When she glanced up at him, she espied surprise in his eyes. But, all he asked was, "You would agree to this so easily?"

"Without even another thought," she answered. "From the moment I first met you, I have wanted to learn what you do and how you do it. Partly this is because I do not want to let you out of my sight, but also I have wished this because it is the only way I believe I will feel secure in this new environment."

He nodded before saying, "But, the women's work… You would not be learning what you must know in order to care for a family."

"Well," she said, "I guess we would have to plan out how we—and I do mean we—would be able to do both."

He stared at her as though he could not believe what she said. But, suddenly he laughed, and she joined in with him before she said, "I recognized the melody you were playing. How did you know it?"

"I followed you today," he said.

"You did? But, I did not see you or hear you."

"This is because I am a scout and can become invisible when I choose to make it so."

"Then, you weren't upset with me because I had taken your pony with me?"

"Never," he said at once.

"Naato Omitaa asked to come with me, you know."

"He is a good pony, and I am glad he was there for you."

"Oh my!" she said, turning fully toward him, and then she flung herself against him and into his arms, which caused him to fall backward. It was exactly the way she wanted him, and she settled herself suggestively on top of him, murmuring, "My dear husband, if this is the way in which any of our future arguments are going to end, I shall not flinch from them. But, perhaps we should make a pledge to always end our arguments in such a pleasant way as this. When do we start our training?"

He grinned at her, then said, "As soon as I have trapped enough beaver to purchase a shotgun for you."

"But, I have enough money to buy—"

He shook his head and said, "I will not let you obtain the gun with the evil golden rock. Perhaps we will need to have more discussion on this rock and the consequences of its use. But, for now, I will trap the beaver or other animals whose fur and skins are favored by the trader, and I will acquire the rifle for you. Meanwhile, we will prepare to leave here to go to find your cousin. I now know where he is. As soon as we have the weapons for you and enough food to start our journey, we will go."

Easily changing their positions so he was now lying atop her, he leaned down over her and kissed her once, then once more before he whispered against her lips, "Let us end our argument in the only way a newly married couple should."

"Oh?" she murmured. "What is in your mind, my husband?"

"You shall see, my wife. You shall see." And, he proceeded to show her exactly what he had in mind. Indeed, it was well into the night before they at last found contentment in sleep.