Page 32 of Red Hawk's Woman

“Haiya. It would be better if you did, I think.”

“Better for whom? You?”

“Perhaps. Better for you, as well, since if I know what it is you hide, I can more easily assist you.”

“Humph! So you say.”

“You do not trust me.” It wasn’t a question. “And this is wise of you. One should not blindly put one’s faith in those one does not know well. So do not tell me what it is you seek to mask. Simply know that I know you do.”

“Humph!” she repeated.

“But if you will not speak of that, perhaps you could at least tell me what it is you hope to discover by your journey.”

Effie smiled. She couldn’t help it. “I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to distract me so I might tell you what it is you really want to know. You certainly are a persistent man, Mr. Hawk, I’ll give you that. And you are assuming a great deal. What makes you think I seek something?”

Glimpsing him from over her shoulder, she saw that he lifted his shoulders as though it were obvious. He said, “Why else would you be traveling such a long distance into a territory that is dangerous to a white person?”

“Maybe you have not considered many other possibilities.” She sent him a coy glance, though its effect was lost on him because his back was to her. “Have you contemplated the fact that maybe I travel there to meet a lover? Which would make the hardship all the more worthwhile?”

“Saa,” he said. “It cannot be so.”

“Why could it not?”

“Because you do not have the look of a woman seeking a man.”

“Balderdash.”

“And you forget that the country you seek is Blackfeet territory. Therefore, it is doubtful you will find a white man there peacefully awaiting you. Besides, if that were true, you would not be taking others with you.”

Touché. She pouted. “I’m not saying that’s why I need to go there, I’m simply bringing up the point that it could be true.”

He nodded. “Aa, it could be, but it is not. Are you going to tell me what it is that makes you willing to risk so much?”

“No, I am not.”

“Soka’pii, it is as I thought.” Leaning forward, he grabbed hold of the cloak she requested. “Is this what you require?”

“Yes. Well, partially. My towel is in the inner pocket of my mantle. There,” she said, as his hand skimmed over the material of her pocket.

“Is this what you wish?” He grasped hold of the towel and pulled it away from her cloak.

“It is.” After snatching the towel away from him, she dried herself as best she could, then pulled it around her shoulders. Instantly warmth spread through her.

After a while, he said, “May I turn around now?”

“Yes, you may, but first, could you please hand me my comb, which is in the same pocket?”

He produced the object in short order, then turned toward her. “I would ask you a question.”

“Fine. Ask away,” she said, beginning to feel at ease with the man.

“What is this archaeology that you mention?”

He surprised her. “Archaeology?”

“Aa. Is that not one of the tasks that takes you into Blackfeet country? Turn around.”

“Turn around? Why?”