Chapter 21

Straight Arrows strode toward Valuable Woman's dwelling, still unsure what he would say.   He could not remember a time when he did not wish to marry Corn-Tassels; the whole village knew this and expected it.   Still, something between them had changed—she had changed—saying anything that came into her head whether or not she was asked.

          What did they do to her at that school?

          He hated the word.   It had meant separation, sadness, and now ruination.   Even Curly-Hair Boy , Corn-Tassels' brother, squirmed often in her presence—not that he could throw stones.   The white school had changed him also.   He liked reading better than hunting and seemed reluctant to join their battle games.   He had helped his team hold their line, but he fought without heart.

          I would not wish to meet an enemy with him.   Still, from his childhood, Straight Arrows had admired their father.   Spotted Long-knife could hunt buffalo like the bravest warriors and never shied from a just skirmish.   Straight Arrows hated to disappoint him.

          His own father would understand his decision and might even agree.   Although Preying Eagle had said nothing, Straight Arrows read censure in his eyes when Corn-Tassels barreled like a wild colt into matters that were not hers to enter.   His mother, who had been born in a white village, suggested that he give her more time.  

          “Their people, “she explained, “define submissiveness more broadly than ours.   A woman is expected to give her husband the final say, but many men are like Spotted Long-knife—they desire their wives' opinion and wish them to offer it before they are asked.”  

          “Father values yours.   I know he does,” Straight Arrows bristled.   “He tells me often that when he is uncertain he will ask you.”

          “I know and am not complaining, but not every warrior is like your father.   Also, I have always held a unique position.   When I first brought The Book, no one else could answer our elders' many questions.   Neither is right or wrong; each culture interprets those Scriptures in light of their own customs.   You must both let the Lord guide you.”

          The Lord… Since he was ten, Straight Arrows had walked His path but lately He was strangely quiet.   When he asked his father how the Lord made clear that he should marry his mother, Preying Eagle said only, “I just knew.   She was bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.   I recognized her.”  

          I recognize Corn-Tassels no longer.   I wish I could speak with Light Bird.

          Unable to reason himself out of indecision, he prayed yet again for direction; but when he drew near to Valuable Woman's dwelling, he came to a full stop.   The white warrior that her father had brought with him from Washing Town was waiting next to her mother's dwelling with a courting blanket.   Straight Arrows had noticed the man's attentions many times, but had not paid them much mind.   Like Corn-Tassels, he appeared to speak to whomever he found nearby whenever a thought came into his head.   When she came out to greet him, however, the expression on her face told him all he needed to know.   Turning to retrace the short distance back to his mother's dwelling, Straight Arrow's heart took him by surprise:   rather than puffing up with jealousy or anger, it felt only light and relieved.

          When Corn-Tassels noticed him, her stomach thudded to her feet.   On the way home from their trip to the Pawnee's village, Lieutenant Wilson had gained her father's permission to court her, but she had hoped her long-time suitor would not discover them together.   She felt horridly disloyal and attempted to refuse at first, but her father insisted she consider his aide.

          Why did Papa consent? she fretted, but she already knew the answer.   Try as she had to push away her feelings, they crept out unexpectedly and often.   She fidgeted whenever Joshua was near; and though she longed to know where he was looking, she could not bring herself to glance up.   When he spoke to her directly, she usually flushed or made ridiculous responses.   Scolding herself for acting like a schoolgirl, she explained his attentions away, thinking:   He is relieved to converse without first translating his thoughts and as father's aide, he cannot be rude.   

          She had paid him little mind as they journeyed to her mother's village.   He was charming, certainly handsome, and she was grateful he had kept her secret about her morning rides; but eagerness to see Straight Arrows had captured so much of her thoughts that she hadn't room to consider anyone else.   As she grew less and less comfortable committing to live here, however, Joshua had become like an island to a sea-tossed sailor.  

          “He will have to wait his turn as I have waited mine,” announced Joshua, seeing her apprehensive glance toward Straight Arrows.   “How can I present my suit while you're looking off after my rival?”

          Taken off guard by his candor, Corn-Tassels colored but smiled up at him brightly.   In many ways, he was like her father: confident, intelligent, and forthright.  

          “This is not a bad custom,” he teased, wrapping her in the blanket; “though we would raise quite a few eyebrows on a street in Boston .”

          “Has it been difficult, adjusting to the different ways here?”

          “Tremendously.   I am afraid several of your cousins are expecting me to ask for their hands.   I've made the grave mistake of smiling in their direction or observing them while engaged in chores.”

          Corn-Tassels dimpled, remembering Talks-to-Bird's comments.   “You are right, I am afraid—one cousin especially.”

          “That is not what has been hardest.   On our trip out, I'd grown used to speaking with you at will.   Every time I want your opinion here or look your way for that matter, one of your uncles—or my rival—starts breathing down my neck.   He looks at me as if I'd bared fangs.”

          Dimpling again, Corn-Tassels imagined what they might think of him.   During the three months of their acquaintance, she had noticed his unfaltering ease with ladies .   He was not a cad, but his attentive and direct way led women to feel he thought them special.

          “Should I ask you what my chances are,” he goaded playfully, “or lay out reasons why you should choose me over him?”

          She didn't laugh but grew quite serious.   How was she to tell him what to do—she had only just now admitted to herself how strongly he attracted her.  

          “I did not mean to make you ill at ease,” he smiled, “and must I call you Corn-Tassels, since we are wrapped in an Indian blanket, or may I call you Miss Anderson?   I do not mean to insult your upbringing, but to call you a tassel of any sort, let alone one found sprouting out of a common vegetable, seems absurd.”

          She could not help but laugh.   “Miss Anderson would be fine; or Abigail if you like.”

          Aware that the intimacy she'd just granted gave hint to her feelings, one of his eyebrows involuntarily rose; but he noticed she had still not answered his original question.   Thinking it better not to push her, he took his own course.   “Abigail then,” he proceeded somewhat solemnly.   “I don't think our good Lord has placed another woman on earth that would suit me half as well as you.   Anyone with eyes would attest to your beauty and your ability to understand the customs and language of these people perfectly complements my goals; but my mind was made up when I saw you in your grandfather's meadow that morning.   A mealy-mouthed and insipid woman could never suit me.   I want a wife who can face challenge without disintegrating in a heap of weeping—a partner, not a servant or slave.   When I saw you atop that mare, her back as bare as a newborn's, I knew you were extraordinary; but when we danced that evening, I wished you'd never leave my side.”

          “I…I am not sure what to say.”

          “Then say yes,” he cajoled boldly.   “Say you will marry me.”

          “I cannot,” she told him frankly, but rushed ahead when she noticed the sparkle in his brown eyes dim.   “I am not saying I will not; I cannot without Father's permission.”   She did not know what had come over her—he seemed to have drained her of desire to resist.

          Grinning impishly, his perfectly matched white teeth lit his entire countenance.   “I have already asked and he has given it, if you were willing.”

          “You…you asked him?” she repeated, stupefied.   “Then yes, I will certainly marry you.”

          Though reeling from the suddenness with which she had made her decision, she marveled that she had wondered what to do at all.   Like a well-designed garment, everything fit right into place.   Those many evenings spent in Straight Arrows' blanket had felt discordant, like a note out of tune, but she had adamantly argued the contrary with herself.   One evening, she had even hid her face when Josh came upon Straight Arrows and her without warning.   Now she understood why: her heart had known all along to whom it belonged.

To man belongs the plans of the heart, but from the Lord comes the proper answer of the tongue.

Proverbs 16:1

Author Bio

Sydney Tooman Betts currently resides in Florida with her protagonist-inspiring husband and two teen-aged children.   When not engaged in writing, she spends most of her time home schooling, mentoring, leading the women's Bible study at her local church, or painting.

While single, Ms. Betts (B.S. Bible/Missiology, M.Ed) was involved in a variety of cross-cultural adventures in North and Central America.   After marrying, she and her husband lived in Europe and the Middle East where he served in various mission-support capacities.   Her teaching experiences span preschool to guest lecturing at the graduate level and she has been privileged to serve as Sunday School Superintendent, Children's Church Director, or Women's Ministries facilitator in several evangelical denominations.  

Before her first novel, A River too Deep, she had ghostwritten several stories included in an adult literacy program.  

Contact Sydney at: www.LightBirdsSong.com

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