â
âI am ready now.â
âGood,â said Thompson, grinning. âGood.â
Four
Music from a fiddle, violins and a flute filtered into the Rathburn stables where Black Eagle was preparing the three horsesâtwo roans and a dapple grayâfor their journey. Checking over their cinches, to ensure that the leather was strong, Black Eagle was a stern critic, his eye catching perhaps what another might miss.
He was frowning; something was not right. It looked as if . . . Pulling hard against one of the cinches, the leather fell apart in his hand. Hunh-uh! He stared at the straps dumbfoundedly. Then he picked up another cinch, making the same experiment, then the third.
Each one was damaged in its own way, and as he studied them, he could only surmise that they had been broken at one time, then sewn and glued back together so cleverly, that the error remained undetectable. Was the white man so negligent, so unaware, that he hadnât seen this?
Or was there another reason for what should have been a simple repair? Certainly the white man could not be so frugal that he could ill afford the best straps available.
He examined the bits of leather, noting that the cuts were not clean, which would make it appear that the damage was due to simple wear. But on all three?
Was it possible that the animals were not regularly used, so that the fault had remained undetectable until now? It was possible. However, Black Eagleâs frown deepened.
Laying the damaged cinches aside, Black Eagleâs thoughts raced, although outwardly, he set himself to mindless work. Picking up a brush, he began the long process of scrubbing the animals down for the night.
One thing was certain: New cinches would be secured or the horses would stay behind. Either way it mattered little to him, particularly since, from the start, Black Eagle had not been in favor of taking horses. Although it was true that a horse could run faster than a man, the animal could not travel as far as a man in the course of a day, mainly because of the necessity to rest every few hours. Plus, the animal was easy to track, required too much care along the way and announced their position to any enemy.
But, when the English had insisted that their women could not walk the entire journey, and that their âthingsâ had to be transported with them, Black Eagle had given little resistance. It wasnât part of his plan to negate the judgment of the English. Besides, he wasnât altogether adverse to plodding a slower journey. If it meant a few extra days spent in the presence of the beauty, then he would acquiesce.
Again the strains of the music from the big house trickled into the livery and Black Eagle fought a desire to be there, to watch the beauty and mayhap if he were lucky, to speak to her again. But he would not do it. Not because of the peculiarities of the English dances, since he was well acquainted with these. Nor was it fear of criticism from the Englishmanâs condescending eye. Rather it was because her image haunted him.
He was fascinated with her, and this, he knew, would not do. He might admire the young lady, might watch her with longing, but he was well aware that there was no future in the flirtation; their worlds were too dissimilar to permit a union between their respective cultures.
As the wise sachems had often counseled, if marriage were not the intended outcome of an association with a woman, one should not indulge in it. Oneâs heartâand hersâcould be held in balance.
Still, as a delicate melody swept into the stable, filling each nook and cranny with the pulse of the English dance, he could little ignore it. The music was in three-quarter time, he noted, and the rhythm affected him in a way he would never have suspected it might. Unbidden, a desire to be there, to see her, to learn more about her, entered into his breast, and he could have sworn his heart ached.
Firmly, he set the matter
âI am ready now.â
âGood,â said Thompson, grinning. âGood.â
Four
Music from a fiddle, violins and a flute filtered into the Rathburn stables where Black Eagle was preparing the three horsesâtwo roans and a dapple grayâfor their journey. Checking over their cinches, to ensure that the leather was strong, Black Eagle was a stern critic, his eye catching perhaps what another might miss.
He was frowning; something was not right. It looked as if . . . Pulling hard against one of the cinches, the leather fell apart in his hand. Hunh-uh! He stared at the straps dumbfoundedly. Then he picked up another cinch, making the same experiment, then the third.
Each one was damaged in its own way, and as he studied them, he could only surmise that they had been broken at one time, then sewn and glued back together so cleverly, that the error remained undetectable. Was the white man so negligent, so unaware, that he hadnât seen this?
Or was there another reason for what should have been a simple repair? Certainly the white man could not be so frugal that he could ill afford the best straps available.
He examined the bits of leather, noting that the cuts were not clean, which would make it appear that the damage was due to simple wear. But on all three?
Was it possible that the animals were not regularly used, so that the fault had remained undetectable until now? It was possible. However, Black Eagleâs frown deepened.
Laying the damaged cinches aside, Black Eagleâs thoughts raced, although outwardly, he set himself to mindless work. Picking up a brush, he began the long process of scrubbing the animals down for the night.
One thing was certain: New cinches would be secured or the horses would stay behind. Either way it mattered little to him, particularly since, from the start, Black Eagle had not been in favor of taking horses. Although it was true that a horse could run faster than a man, the animal could not travel as far as a man in the course of a day, mainly because of the necessity to rest every few hours. Plus, the animal was easy to track, required too much care along the way and announced their position to any enemy.
But, when the English had insisted that their women could not walk the entire journey, and that their âthingsâ had to be transported with them, Black Eagle had given little resistance. It wasnât part of his plan to negate the judgment of the English. Besides, he wasnât altogether adverse to plodding a slower journey. If it meant a few extra days spent in the presence of the beauty, then he would acquiesce.
Again the strains of the music from the big house trickled into the livery and Black Eagle fought a desire to be there, to watch the beauty and mayhap if he were lucky, to speak to her again. But he would not do it. Not because of the peculiarities of the English dances, since he was well acquainted with these. Nor was it fear of criticism from the Englishmanâs condescending eye. Rather it was because her image haunted him.
He was fascinated with her, and this, he knew, would not do. He might admire the young lady, might watch her with longing, but he was well aware that there was no future in the flirtation; their worlds were too dissimilar to permit a union between their respective cultures.
As the wise sachems had often counseled, if marriage were not the intended outcome of an association with a woman, one should not indulge in it. Oneâs heartâand hersâcould be held in balance.
Still, as a delicate melody swept into the stable, filling each nook and cranny with the pulse of the English dance, he could little ignore it. The music was in three-quarter time, he noted, and the rhythm affected him in a way he would never have suspected it might. Unbidden, a desire to be there, to see her, to learn more about her, entered into his breast, and he could have sworn his heart ached.
Firmly, he set the matter
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