Authors: Kathleen Eagle
Reason To Believe (49 page)
She watched him bite into the bread. "I'll be surprised if his heart doesn't burst with pride." As hers was about to.
"What a way to go, huh?" He finished the fry bread and half the soup, then looked up finally as he caught her hand in his. "What are we gonna do, Clara-bow? Where do we go from here?"
She glanced at the kitchen door. "I was wondering that myself." Anywhere, she thought. "I was thinking it was too cold to sleep in a tent tonight, but if that's where you're going, I'm game."
"You are, huh?" He drew her hand to his lips, kissed it, then looked up smiling. "You'll sleep with me anywhere?"
She nodded solemnly. "Anywhere at all."
"Will you take me back, Clara? You and Annie? Not the way I was before. The way I am now, even though..." He shook his head, his smile turning irresistibly sad. "Honey, I ain't never gonna be perfect."
She smiled. "Maybe perfection isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"A
guy who's found himself
a
one-man woman, no choice, he's gotta keep tryin'." He held her hand fast. "I want you to trust me again. I want you to know that Ben Pipestone really is
a
one-woman man."
"I believe you can be, Ben." She closed her eyes and said the words. "I want you home."
"It's not just me," he warned, taking her in his arms. "It's me and this pipe. And whatever I have to do to keep the, uh..." He smiled softly at her. "The fire goin', I guess."
"Your home is with us," she told him, cupping his cheek in her hand. "But our place is with you. We'll work out the details. We always have, haven't we?"
"You'll sleep in a tent with me tonight?"
"I said I'd trust you. I guess..."
"Wait 'til you see." His eyes were full of boyish excitement. "Where's your jacket? Here." Quickly he wrapped her in the pipe carrier's coat.
"You can't go out..."
But the celebrational giveaways were still going strong, and he'd received a blanket, which he threw around his shoulders. "Courtin' robe," he said as he led her out the kitchen door and into the breath-stealing cold. "Remember when we were first married and we bought that little two-man tent to take along on the rodeo circuit?"
"We spent a whole month's pay on sleeping bags and a camp stove and all kinds of—" She had to practically run to keep up with him as he strode across the snow-packed street.
"Remember what we did that first night after we got all that stuff home?"
"We set it up in that dinky little living room and ended up—"
He hopped up on the front stoop of a similarly dinky little house and turned the front door knob. "An old rodeo buddy lives here."
"Another—"
"He said we could have the living room all to ourselves, but I think he's got three or four kids in each bedroom, so when we end up doin' what we did before..." He drew her inside, turned the switch on a lamp, and stepped aside to let her see that he'd taken the liberty of setting up her little tent. "Well, we'll just have to do it very quietly. None of that squealin' and buckin' you like to do."
"Ben!" She laughed, shaking her head in amazement as she eyed the tent. "So here we are. Back where we started."
"Not exactly. It's more like startin' all over. But only if..." He drew her into his arms, enfolding her with him in his blanket, holding her close. "You're never gonna be able to forget. I know that. But we've gotta find a way to put that behind us, Clara."
"By forgiving. It's not such a difficult thing to say once you understand how it works. It comes from faith and hope and the promise of healing." She looked into his eyes, just the way she had when they'd first exchanged vows. "I forgive your trespasses because I believe in you. And I hope you'll forgive mine."
He swallowed hard. "Woman, I'm gonna love you like you can't
believe."
"Not a chance. Over the last two weeks I have increased my believing capacity by—"
Ben grinned. "Yeah, but I've been workin' on my lovin' capacity for
two years,
and you ain't even seen the tip of the iceberg."
"I'll take the tip, cowboy." Clara smiled saucily as she flipped his belt buckle open. "But no icebergs."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Summer is powwow time in Indian country. There's always plenty of food, games and contests, lots of music and dancing, and in the midst of it all there are "giveaways." People present gifts as a public show of appreciation, honor, respect. The giver calls a name, the recipient accepts a gift, and a simple handshake is shared. If this were a giveaway, I would have a table full of quilts and blankets on this page, and I would call the names of people who helped make it possible for Clyde and me to participate in the Big Foot Memorial Ride in 1990. First among them would be our nephew, Dwaine, his wife, Karen, and our brother, Glen. They shared their horses and gave their support. I would also honor Arvol Looking Horse, Carol Ann Hart, Ron McNeil, Isaac Dog Eagle, Howard Eagle Shield, and so many others whose influence helped shape the setting, the soul, and the integrity of this story.
Winter is storytelling, visiting, crafting, and pretty much staying-put time in Indian country. No one would consider walking or riding horseback across more than 250 miles of frozen Dakota prairie without good cause, which is what this story is all about. Although the 1990 Sitting Bull Memorial Run and Big Foot Memorial Ride were actual events, readers must bear in mind that the characters in
Reason to Believe
are fictitious, as is their
story. I followed the itinerary of the ride fairly closely, and many scenes, such as the community celebrations and the ride through Timber Lake, parallel the experiences we had on the ride. So does the weather. Man, did it get cold! But this is a work of fiction. My intention was to weave the healing spirit of the ride into a story about mending broken relationships and to convey the ride's investment in understanding in a way that only fiction can. I do not presume to speak for Indian people, but only to reflect a piece of the experience of a sojourner in Indian Country.
In your letters many of you ask me for recommendations regarding charities that benefit Native Americans. I suggest you investigate any charity by contacting your state's attorney general's office. You might consider the American Indian College Fund for your donation. The address is 21 West 68 Street, Suite IF, New York, New York 10023. This foundations helps support over twenty accredited tribal colleges located on or near Indian reservations.