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"Be ye willin', now, ta sell this here wagon, miss?"

To this question, Stands Strong heard his wife correct the man, saying, "I am not selling it, and I am a missus, not a miss. Please understand, I have no intention of selling the wagon at all."

"But, I be willin' ta give ye five hundred fer it."

Stands Strong frowned, recalling only moments ago when, with great enthusiasm, he had been anticipating being with his wife again and the possibility of sharing more lovemaking with her. She was now especially on his mind after having spent several days in scouting. But, what was happening here? Where had all these white men come from? There were at least ten, perhaps twelve of them. Certainly, the steamship had arrived, but why were there so many of these white men here in his people's encampment—and why were they crowding around his wife?

Admittedly, he was accustomed to seeing the French engagées and voyageurs depart from the steamship to be quartered within the fort. But, a quick glance at these men showed each one of them to be neither an employee of the company, nor a trapper or trader.

For one, as a group, they smelled bad, as though they hadn’t bathed for perhaps many months. For another, they were an unkempt bunch of men, with long greasy and stringy beards, unwashed and greasy hair and clothing scented with perhaps unmentionable body fluids.

All of them appeared to be of questionable grooming standards, except a few of the younger men who were clean-shaven and were perhaps even handsome. But, why were there so many of them here? And, why were they crowding around his wife?

At first Stands Strong had thought to stand aside from them, if only to escape their stench. But, then he had spotted his wife within their midst.

And, though the words from this noxious crew appeared to reflect that their reason for coming into their camp was the wagon they each one seemed determined to purchase, no one was examining the object in question. Obviously, the attraction was not the wagon, but his woman.

One of the younger and better looking of the men said something to his wife to which she laughed, but whatever had been said remained a mystery to Stands Strong. All of his attention was centered upon one concern and one concern only: why was his woman speaking to these men and even laughing with them when she was married to him?

When one of these odorous men stepped forward and placed a hand upon his wife's shoulder, Stands Strong stepped quickly forward and planted himself firmly in front of her, his arms holding his shotgun clutched against his chest. He said in perfect English, "The woman said she does not wish to sell the wagon."

"So? What's it to you, Injun?" The foul-looking man who had asked this question fingered a gun hung down within his belt, and slowly the man lifted the weapon up from its holster.

With the swift and sure reflexes of a trained warrior, Stands Strong thrust his rifle straight up, and, pointing it into the air, fired off a loud and explosive shot. The fact that his action brought several warriors racing in his direction didn't at first register with him. He was only aware of this: he would make a stand here and now. He would not allow his woman to be manhandled by any of these lowlifes.

After all, these men had come into the Indian camp where all men, Indian and white, were equally armed. But, Stands Strong had no time to overly reflect upon this. All he knew was simply this: no one was going to lay a hand on his woman.

"Hey, we's only askin'," uttered one lowlife.

"No need ta go ta war over it," said another.

With several mumbles and grumbles, the stinky newcomers began to retreat, and it was only then, once they had turned their backs upon him, when Stands Strong took note of the Blackfoot warriors who had gathered in back of him and who had taken a stand along with him. Some of these warriors were still aiming their shotguns toward the whites; some had affixed an arrow to a bow pointed directly at these unwelcome men.

Who were these white men? Certainly they weren't traders, nor were they engagées. To his knowledge, no white trader had ever laid a hand on an Indian woman, unless that woman was his wife.

Again he asked himself: who were these detestable men?

But, perhaps a more important question to him at this moment was: why had his wife laughed at some statement made by one of them? One of the youngest and handsomest of them?

Still, although these thoughts were gathering storm clouds within Stands Strong's mind, neither he nor any other warrior made a move to let down his guard until every single one of the offensive and stinky men had returned into the inner sanctum of the fort. But, as soon as the last one was admitted there and the gate was closed, the warriors—who had crowded around him and had given him their support—slowly backed away, many of them grinning.

One of them, Howling Wolf, placed his hand on Stands Strong's shoulder and said, "I should have driven the wagon into the fort. Then, there would have been no trouble."

"It is not your fault. Think no more about it," replied Stands Strong, and, turning around to confront his woman, he said to Czanna, "Come with me. My relatives have erected a tepee for us. I will show it to you."

When his wife did nothing more than nod, this pleased him very much, and, calmly, with each step deliberate, he led the way to their new lodge. There would be time enough to talk to her without others hearing what he had to say to her.

And, perhaps in the time it took to pace through the camp and out toward the western side of the encampment, his temper would have cooled.

****

"You are angry with me, are you not?"

"Saa, I am not angry with you," answered Stands Strong.

Czanna looked over at her husband with a critical eye. "But," she said, "you are angry."

He grinned at her. "Have I done a deed to make you believe I am angry?"

"Well, for one," said Czanna, "you shot your gun into the air."

"What I used to fire off the shot was my rifle. Not a gun."

"Rifle, then," agreed Czanna. "What did I do? I know instinctively that you are angry with me, though you try to hide it."

Czanna looked on as her new husband sighed, then he grunted in his throat, the sound low, much like a growl. She waited for his response, and as she did so, she glanced around their newly loaned lodge. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

It was much roomier than she would have ever imagined one of these tepees might be. It was probably eight to nine meters across or, as the Americans might say, about twenty-six feet. And, both she and Stands Strong could stand up straight within it with a good deal of room above their heads.

Long and slender, though sturdy poles made the shape of the lodge, and a buffalo hide—which was none too light and consisted of about twenty-eight hides sewn together—kept the interior of the lodge cool. "Ear flaps" at the tops of the poles could be adjusted in order to allow the smoke to rise.

Also, today Czanna had asked and had learned why the outer part of the tepee was slightly raised up from the ground. The reason was because the inner tepee liner—their own being colorfully decorated in shapes of triangles and circles—fell completely to the ground, which allowed air to come in between the outer buffalo hide and the liner, which in turn allowed the people inside to adjust the temperature within the structure.

It was a simple style of architecture, but highly efficient and portable. And, were she to think more deeply about it, she would have to admit it was quite ingenious.

But, at last it appeared Stands Strong was going to answer her, and she gave him her full attention.

"I am not angry with you," he said. "However, I admit I am disappointed."

"What? What have I done to disappoint you?" she asked.

Again, he didn't speak to her at once. Instead, he turned and stepped toward the "men's" side of the tepee; then he sat down, and, gesturing toward her, he invited her to do the same.

When she had at last settled down with her legs together and to the left, he began, and he said, "You allowed these men to speak to you and even laughed with one of the better-looking of them. This is what disappoints me."

"He was not so very good-looking. Not as handsome as you are."

Stands Strong nodded, but not even a hint of a teasing smile crossed over his countenance. At some length, he said, "His pleasant looks are not what causes me to be disappointed. It is your speaking to him at all, and also to the others. When I sought you out, I did not anticipate finding you to be the center of attraction for those men."

"Oh, I see," she said at once. "But, my husband, I have every right to laugh if someone—male or female—makes a joke. It was an honest reaction and quite a good response, I should say."

"Not if the one making the joke is a man when you are a woman," he countered at once.

"Oh, please." She made a face. "It was nothing."

Stands Strong shook his head. "It is not…nothing. Consider this: our tribe is small. Only in the summer do we gather together like we are now in a large group. No one wishes there to be jealousy or fighting between the men of the tribe because of a woman's flirtation with another man." Suggestively, he pointed to his nose. "There could be consequences."

"Flirtation? Are you telling me you think I was flirting with that man simply because I laughed at his joke?"

"Were you not?" he answered with the question.

"This is ridiculous," she uttered, pouring deliberate disdain into her tone. "Are you telling me I am not 'allowed' to talk to the other fifty-percent of the human race simply because I am female and the other fifty-percent is male?"

"I do not know what this 'fifty-percent' is, but this I do know: when we are encamped, yes, you are not to talk to a man unless he is related to you."

She sat unmoving for many moments. At last, she asked, "Are you serious?"

He nodded.

She paused, letting this information seep into her mind, along with other pertinent facts. After a while, she frowned, then said, "Well, I won't do it."

Her husband said nothing at first. And, he sat so still he could have been a rock instead a living being. At last, he said, "My woman, try to understand. You are beautiful. You are white. Many men, Indian and white, would enjoy talking to you, and occasionally they will try to touch you, as one of those men did today. The impulse to do so would be irresistible. And so, if you insist upon this path and speak to any man you please, I think you will bring me much trouble."

Czanna was stunned, and again she found it difficult to speak…but only for a moment. After the slight pause, she said, "Then, I guess you'd better get used to having a lot of trouble in your life, because I will not let you forbid me from speaking to the other half of the human race whenever I please. Further, I would like to point out that women, like men, were endowed by their Creator with the right and the gift to speak to whomever they wish to talk to and about any subject they wish to speak about. What you are asking me to do is against how the Creator made each one of us. And, I will have no part in it."

Again he touched his nose, but it served to only irritate her further, and she asked, "Are you threatening me?"

"I am not," he said. "I am informing you again of our ways."

"Yes, well, they are not my ways, and I will not do as you are suggesting. I am a human being, and I have a right to speak to whomever I want, whenever I want and on any subject that I choose."

"Not in this camp."

"Yes, in this camp. Now, let me ask you a similar question: are you allowed to speak to women…to any woman you might choose to speak to?"

"Yes, of course. But, a man, after he is married, does this very rarely, since he does not wish his wife to become jealous."

"All right," she said. "But, let's say he does talk to a woman and makes a joke, and by this, as you have suggested, he creates some trouble. Does he also have to endure the same penalty as the woman?"

"No. We have already spoken about this."

"Then, let me say this to you, Mr. Stands Strong. If a woman is to suffer such a terrible consequence for such a minor error, then the man should also suffer a similar punishment. Indeed, I think this man should have to have something done to him of a comparable nature…perhaps cutting off the end of his nose, too."

The look upon Stands Strong's countenance was not only surprised, it was angry at the same time. And, his voice was suspiciously soft when he asked, "Are you telling me this is what you would wish for me if I were to act as you were today?"

"Of course not," she answered at once. "But, can you not see how silly it would be for me to even bring up such a punishment into our conversation, and all because of the simple act of laughing at a man's joke?"

He frowned at her. "It is not 'silly,' as you call it. Your actions, were you to continue in this manner, could cause both you and me to face much danger. My wife, perhaps you do not understand the nature of a man, and so I will tell you: a man is empowered by your laughter and your conversation, and this could lead to upsets between us, as well as causing me to have to fight men away from you so as to ensure your good reputation."

Once again, Czanna sat mute, stunned into silence. At length, however, she asked, "And so, what you are telling me is a woman, who speaks to a man or who laughs at his jokes, can have the tip of her nose cut off?"

"Saa, no, it is not so. It could happen only when a woman makes love to a man who is not her husband."

"Well, I can tell you honestly, this is not going to occur with me."

"Think you not?" he asked. "A man is stronger than you are, and he could force you to do his will, and then he could lie about the woman's struggles to the tribe."

Czanna thrust out her chin and said, "Tell me this: do your people allow the woman involved to have a say in the matter?"

"Not usually, because it is thought the punishment is so severe, she might lie."

"And, the man? Do they not realize the man might lie, as you have suggested?"

Stands Strong didn't answer.

"And so, she has the punishment enforced upon her, while the man walks free to perhaps do the same to another woman."

"I did not say I agree with the custom; I only tell you it is still done to this day."

Czanna sucked in her breath before saying, "I can hardly believe we are having this conversation because one of those men said something funny and I laughed."

"You were not talking to simply one man. You were surrounded by them."

"Not at my choosing," she countered.

"You could have walked away," he quickly uttered.

"And, they would have followed me," she said, defending herself. Then, frowning, she went on to say, "I do not agree with you about this 'custom' done to a woman only and not to a man. If she gets the punishment, then so should he, since he is as guilty as she. Perhaps I might suggest this to the other women in camp and thus bring about its abolishment."

"You will n—" He stopped short of saying whatever had been in his mind to say. Instead, he looked at her across the unlit fireplace, his mouth still open. But, he shut his mouth both quickly and firmly, then stared at her, she back at him.

And so, they glared at one another from over the perimeter of the campfire where no fire had yet been lit. They glowered at each other, and they stared and they stared, neither saying a word. It was as though each one of them had hit an impasse; there would be no compromise between them upon this issue.

At last, he opened his mouth again as though he would say a few more words, but instead of speaking, he jumped up suddenly and, stepping quickly toward the tepee's entrance, bent at the waist and stepped over the entrance flap.

Then, without another word, he trod away.

For several moments, Czanna sat staring at the place where he had left, utterly shocked.

Dear Lord, what have I done? What have I gotten myself and my entire family into? If I or any of my family should dare to act or speak in a manner unsuitable to the men of this tribe, we could be…

Please help me, dear God. Please help me.

She hadn't really meant what she'd said: she wouldn't really try to organize a women's protest against the custom.

But then, why not? This punishment for women was cruel. It went against all the laws of Nature. How could an Indian man say he lived so closely knit with Nature and not know this simple fact?

Did he not realize she was only trying to cause him to consider what it might feel like if there were a similar punishment for a man?

But, she feared her analogy hadn't worked.

She could only wonder if, indeed, she had come all this way and endured all she had in the name of remaining free only to find she now lacked the right to say what she believed, and to say it to whomever she chose, simply because a man might take it into his head to punish her.

She would not back down. She couldn't.

Dear Lord, what am I to do?

****

Are we going for a run? I'm ready when you are!

In the silent world of mind-speak, Stands Strong heard his pony's question and answered in the same manner, No, we are not going scouting or upon the war path today. Be at your ease, Naato Omitaa.

His pony answered with a light nicker and rubbed his head against Stands Strong's chest. And, Stands Strong, in reaction, petted this, his most treasured friend.

Keeping with the typical warrior mode, Stands Strong had tied his favorite buffalo pony next to his lodge. Standing as he was, so close to the animal, he came to be aware of his pony's wish to be loosed and led into the horse herd, there to enjoy the fresh grass of the prairie as well as the company of the other horses.

Knowing the walk away from the encampment to where the horses were grazing would do him good as well, Stands Strong reached toward the ropes where the pony was tied and began to undo the knots. But, before he could complete the task, he was approached by a young lad.

Looking up, Stands Strong said, "óki napí, Hello, friend."

"óki napí," returned the youngster. "I have been sent to bring you to council. You are needed again in the council of the chiefs, which is still ongoing in the lodge of the chief of the Small Robes band. I will take you there."

"Soka'pii," said Stands Strong. "I will go with you at once."

"Soka'pii," acknowledged the boy, who then turned away to lead the way to the chief's lodge.

"I am sorry, my friend," Stands Strong said in Blackfeet to his pony. "Perhaps later we will go there."

Naato Omitaa answered with a soft whinny.

And, pushing his own troubles aside temporarily, Stands Strong followed the lad.

Moments later, Stands Strong entered the lodge of the head chief of the Small Robes band of the Blackfoot tribe, and the chief gestured toward a place where Stands Strong should sit. Oddly, it was at the very back of the lodge—a place of honor.

Pacing to the back of the other seated members of the council, Stands Strong came to the place suggested and sat. He said not a word, as was the custom, and he looked neither right nor left, as council manners dictated.

What was this about? He had already given the chiefs his report on what he had seen and what he had discovered while scouting. And, although the urge to ask this very question was deep within him, he asked no questions and waited patiently for the chief to speak, knowing the inquiries would come soon enough.

It couldn't be about his encounter with the whites this very day, could it? Nothing really out of the ordinary had occurred. The scum had made trouble and had been forced to retreat.

Well, he would wait patiently. He would know soon enough.

After the pipe was passed to him and he had smoked it, taking the oath to Sun to speak truly, he waited. And, as soon as the pipe was passed back to the chief, so began the chief's inquiry.

Said the chief, "Almost-son of the medicine man Strikes Fast, and the first and best scout within our nation, we have further questions we wish to ask you; thus, we have bid you to return to our council so we might ask them of you. I will begin."

Stands Strong barely nodded.

"These gold seekers you mentioned, what did they look like and what did they say?"

As was tradition, Stands Strong waited a moment before replying. In due time, he said, "I did not see the gold seekers; I only know the results of what they did. By my oath to Sun, I will tell you what I know, although some of it was related to me by my newly married wife and her brother. The gold seekers came upon my wife's caravan in the night and convinced a scout, whom we know by the name of Hanson, to betray those who had hired him. This scout, Hanson, drank too much of the white man's poison and, throwing his lot in with the gold seekers, stole all of the gold and silver given to him for his services by the manservant, Henrik, whose duty it was and still is to take my woman's family into the Backbone-of-the-World Mountains to meet with her cousin, whom we all know as Old Tom Johnson.

"This man, Henrik, left my woman and her family alone because he decided it was important to go after Hanson and regain the treasure stolen from him. But, he was shot at several times and was badly wounded; he almost lost his life. He is, however, recovered now, and from this man, Henrik, I learned the gold seekers are heading south and west toward a place known as the "gold fields" to the whites. We know this place to be within Blackfoot territory, but it is used by all the tribes, and with our consent, for hunting.

"This is all I know of these whites. The man, Henrik, is, as you know, now mostly recovered and could be asked to this council if there is further knowledge required about these men who chase the evil golden rock."

No one spoke, and it was at some length before the chief replied, "You are to be honored for your role in saving the life of the man, Henrik, and for bringing him here. It is as we have all feared since the Stevens Treaty with the whites of only one winter ago. As you all know, we were told by the interpreters that the whites only wished to make a road through our country; that they would not stay nor take anything from us, save their need to hunt for food. As you all know, it was at the place we call O-to-kwi-tuk-tai, Yellow River, where this treaty was made.

"But, we were not told all of the parts of the Stevens Treaty. Because the whites chose the interpreters, we were informed only of the part of the treaty that favored us, not the part of it which favored the Blue Coats. I have since asked three of the white women in our camp, who are all married to medicine men, to obtain a copy of this treaty and to read it to us in all its parts. We asked for this because of people like these gold seekers who are swarming into our country and who seem to have no god or morals to prevent them from killing or stealing. As we all have discussed, we have trouble now with these men, since they often come into our camp as though they are friends, only to molest some of our women and young girls. It is because of their actions that we have learned of the deception of the treaty, which I fear many of our chiefs signed.

"It is not right because we were not told about the treaty giving the 'right' for these strangers to enter into our country and to settle upon our lands, taking as much land as they need for their cattle. They were also given the 'right' to make towns upon our lands and to take from it whatever they would need.

"We did not know this at the treaty signing. We trusted our interpreters. Perhaps they, too, were deceived," continued the chief. "We do not know. But now, because of this deception within the treaty, and without our knowledge, we have much trouble. We must now decide what we are to do about this, because, as you know, our warriors now believe it is the whites who have broken the treaty, causing many of our warriors to go on the warpath against their coming onto our hunting grounds and settling down. Some white men have already claimed a part of our land, and some of our warriors have now sworn to go on the warpath against these whites.

"Almost-son of the medicine man Strikes Fast, because of this trouble, we might require your skills again in the future, since you and a few others speak the white man's tongue. For now, we will have to think well on this, and we will need to counsel together again in the near future about what we are to do. As you know, the killing of a white man—regardless of his wrongs against us—could bring us much grief."

Looking directly at Stands Strong, the chief went on to say, "Since you told us of your duty toward your woman, we inquired of the other bands of our tribe about your woman's cousin, Old Tom Johnson. We have now discovered this man's whereabouts from our relatives in the north. This is how we know he is no longer to be found in the Backbone-of-the-World Mountains. Because the beaver are all trapped out where he made his home in the Backbone-of-the-World Mountains, and he has moved to another place. You will now find him in the Bears Paw Mountains. You are free now to take your woman and her family there, and we will speak again when you return, since we may yet need your skills in the near future."

Stands Strong nodded and signed, "Good. It is good."

The chief then brought the council to a close, and Stands Strong, along with the others, filtered out from the chief's lodge.

Stands Strong's first thought was to return to his lodge and let his wife know where they would now find her cousin, but upon realizing he was not yet calm enough to speak to her with good words, he left to visit with his almost-mother and -father.

áa, this is a better plan than letting the slip of my tongue further estrange me from my woman.