Joan Pickart - Apache Dream Bride

“There’s something disturbing me that I cannot put to rest,” he said. “Why are you alone? Is there something about you that doesn’t please the men of this time? I beheld you, which is Apache custom. I have seen you on the outer side and sensed who you are within. You please me, Kathy Maxwell. I would give serious thought to making you my woman.”

“I…” Kathy started to reply, then snapped her mouth closed as she realized she had no idea what to say.

A strange warmth swept through her as Dakota’s words echoed in her mind. What he had said was one of the most exciting, yet frightening, things she had ever heard. Dakota’s woman.

Oh, stop. She wasn’t going to dwell on it a second longer. Dakota was simply curious about the customs and social structure of this era.

You please me, Kathy Maxwell.

Kathy, she scolded herself, just cut it out right this second.

“Well, you see, Dakota,” she said, wishing her voice was steadier, “choosing a life’s partner is much more complicated now. It’s done more slowly, carefully. I have to be as pleased, as you put it, with the man as he is with me. Just looking at someone, beholding them, isn’t enough.”

“Why not?”

“Because there are discoveries to be made first.”

“Such as?”

“Well, values. You know, your stand on truth, trust, fidelity. Then there’s stuff like what do we have in common? How do you spend your leisure time? How do you feel about security, a home, children, a woman who has her own business and wouldn’t give it up for the world? Then there’s…Oh, good night, you aren’t really interested in all of this, are you?”

He nodded. “It fascinates me. You’ve listed what people in this time must discover about each other, and most of it is reasonable.” He paused. “No man has pleased you as you made these discoveries?”

Kathy shrugged. “No. Emotions come into play here, too, you know. There has to be love that is real and rich and deep. But, no, I haven’t found the man I want to spend my life with.”

“ I please you.”

Kathy blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You beheld me. I can tell from what I’ve seen in your eyes that you desire me. You have had thoughts of joining with me, man to woman.”

A flush of embarrassment heated Kathy’s cheeks. “Well…um…you’re a very handsome, well-built man, Dakota. I’m a healthy, normal woman who…Oh, for Pete’s sake, this is ridiculous.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I did not ask to come here and I do not intend to remain. However, while I’m here I wish to understand this world. To learn and enrich my mind. A man who isn’t constantly attempting to add to his knowledge is lazy, worthless. You have customs that are new to me, things you can teach me during my stay.”

“But what if when you go back you don’t even remember having been here?”

“So be it. It’s important that I live for the moment I am in. That’s the Apache way. Each beat of our heart is to be cherished.

“Apaches also pride ourselves on our patience. If we encounter an enemy who outnumbers us and it would mean certain death to engage them in battle, we withdraw to fight another day when we will be assured of a victory. That isn’t cowardly, it is wise. We place high value on life, living. We don’t treat lightly the gift of the body we were given to walk the earth in.”

“That’s a lovely philosophy,” she said quietly. “People in this time era could use some of that kind of common sense.”

“I haven’t betrayed the Apache way,” Dakota went on, “but I’ve had to struggle to maintain my patience. My people were robbed of their land, their way of life. They were herded like animals to the reservation, never again to be free. Patience will change nothing.”

“I’m so sorry about what was done to the Indians back then. I’ve only read about it, but I realize you’re suffering the pain of it right now.”

“I’ve been alone these many moons,” he said, his voice gritty, “and questions with no answers have plagued me. Now I’ve been brought here where I don’t wish to be, but at least I can ask questions and have them answered. I can learn.

“I am a man, Kathy, a proud Apache brave. All I wanted was a place, a home, a sense of self and worth. I wanted a woman of my heart and sons of my seed. The white man hasn’t killed my body. I won’t let them crush my spirit.”

Tears filled Kathy’s eyes as she heard the raw emotion in Dakota’s voice, saw it on his face and in the depth of his expressive dark eyes. Before she’d realized she had moved, she had wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

“No one is going to crush your spirit,” she said, tears echoing in her voice. “We won’t let them, Dakota. We won’t. I’ll teach you whatever you want to know about this era, if that’s what you want, if that will make you feel better about being here.”

Dakota encircled Kathy with his arms, then buried his face in the soft tumble of her curls, savoring the fragrance of flowers.

“We haven’t solved the mystery of the Dream Catcher’s powers,” he said. “We don’t yet understand the Dream Catcher’s spirit call to enable us to send me back. So while I’m here we will live for the moment we hold in our hands.”

Dakota’s words echoed in Kathy’s mind as she stayed nestled against his warm, massive body. He felt wonderful, smelled wonderful. Being held in his strong arms was wonderful. Desire was beginning to churn hot and low within her.

But there was more than basic physical yearnings involved. Dakota was touching an emotional place deep within her that she hadn’t even known existed. She was beginning to feel connected, bonded to him. She had felt his pain as he’d spoken of what had been done to his people. The chill of his loneliness as he’d roamed the land alone was an icy fist within her.

While I am here, we will live for the moment we hold in our hands.

Did she have the courage to actually do that? Could she live for the moment, treasure what they might share, then be prepared to let him go? How long would she ache for him when he was gone? How long would she cry?

Oh, she couldn’t think straight. Too much was happening so quickly that she was off kilter and terribly confused. She was going to put her emotional turmoil on hold, she had to.

Dakota inhaled Kathy’s feminine aroma once more, then moved her gently away from him.

“What discovery do you want to make first?” he said.

Kathy laughed in spite of herself. “You make this sound like research for a term paper.”

“A what?”

“Never mind. I’m such a wreck that a dose of practical thinking is called for. Therefore, we’ll shift our focus. You need some clothes.”

“I have clothes.”

“Yes, but you don’t have a shirt. Men in this era are free to go without a shirt, but not all of the time. You need a shirt.”

He shrugged.

“So, I’m going shopping and buy you a shirt. I’ll get you some jeans, too. Man-pants. Do you shave?”

“What?”

“Do you grow hair on your face that you cut off each day?”

“No,” he said slowly. “Kathy, are you talking nonsense?”

“No. White men grow hair on their faces. I’ve read that most Indians don’t, and I guess it’s true. Okay. Cancel the shaving cream and razor. Do you—” she paused, feeling the now-familiar warm flush creep onto her cheeks “—use underwear?”

“I don’t know the meaning of that word.”

Dandy. Go for it, Kathy. “Do you have anything on beneath your pants?”

Dakota frowned. “For what purpose? Do white men wear pants under their pants?”