Slocum 421 by Jake Logan

he undressed. At last he joined her and considered the treasures he held under the blankets. A willing, supple woman who molded to his body and whom he kissed, growing excited about their path ahead. Indian women hardly knew kissing, but they soon learned, as she did. Then they fell in a whirlpool of kisses, with his flesh against her muscled body. Soon connected as one, they worked each other hard.
    After a nap, they straightened up, redressed, and went to the festivities. She wore his many-times-rained-on felt hat. She asked if he minded and he shook his head. “Wear it as long as you want.”
    He knew that for her to show up wearing his headgear let everyone there know that he was hers. And she walked proud in her deerskin dress, the fringe wrapping around her calves, the hat a little too big, covering her forehead, with her braids trailing down her back.
    She said, “You need an eagle feather or two for it to be a lucky hat.”
    â€œNo, it is a lucky hat because I have you to wear it.”
    She tried to see out of it, to look at him after his statement. Then she hugged his waist. “Tonight I am proud I met you.”
    He joined his friend, and she went to help the other women, but did not relinquish his hat.
    Three Bear laughed at the sight of him hatless. “She already scalped him.”
    Slocum laughed and joined him. “Women will do that to you.”
    â€œOh, how well I know.”
    â€œI need a good horse for her to ride. She says she is going with me.”
    â€œI can get you one.”
    â€œI will pay you for it.”
    â€œI will give you one.”
    â€œNo. Sell it to me.”
    Slocum finally gave up. That hardheaded Pawnee wasn’t taking any money for the horse. So he found Swan Woman, and they joined a stomping line of dancers. Women teased him, and he laughed, not understanding half what they said to him.
    Lots of fire-roasted meat left them all with shiny lips from eating the grease. Little ones were herded off to bed eventually, and the night dancing became more exciting. The chanting grew louder, and the movement was like a great serpent snaking around. Slocum forgot about everything else but the willowy Swan Woman and him—isolated as if they danced inside a huge bubble floating among so many others but in their own private world.
    At last they ran off into the night, to their own cave under the blankets and stars, to make love with a newfound fierceness. Slocum felt better than he had in weeks.
    The ox yoke on his neck had been lifted for one night anyway.

8
    They left before the sun came up on the third day. Swan rode a nice paint mare with a three-month-old paint horse colt still nursing on her. With the mule in her care, they left for the northwest. Slocum carried a Winchester across his lap. The colt was a strong one, so Slocum had no worry about him keeping up. Swan rode a blanket saddle with stirrups and a girth. She could hurl herself on the mare’s back in a flurry of fringe and be ready to race when her butt hit the blanket.
    He stopped at a small store at a crossroads on the prairie. Inside he found a good beaver hat that he liked and that fit him. He paid the man after some dickering and then put the felt one on her head. She smiled contentedly and tied the strings he never used, to save it if the wind tried to steal it from her.
    They flushed prairie chickens as they rode away. To not lose a high-crowned hat in the prairie country was a learned art. One adjusted, without thought, the tilt of one’s head to the various veins of wind. She must have had that skill, he decided, for she never lost it that day, though the tied strings surely helped. In no hurry they jogged the horses some and walked a lot. Mid-afternoon, they made camp at a spring full of watercrests. The water was cool and sweet. They found enough fuel to make a fire, and with some help from him, she made coffee with boiled ground beans. The big horses and mule were hobbled