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The Runaway Bride

Once back on the Ponderosa, the first thing I did was go upstairs and check the guest room while my father stood downstairs asking what the hell was going on. In one corner of the room was the pink dress from the Rowes and the blue skirt and flowered blouse I had bought Kopakashe at McVee's. I picked up the bundle of clothes and sitting on the bed, raised them to my face to smell them. Her scent was still lingering in the folds of the fabric and it took me back to the nights on the trail when we had slept so closely, although I have to admit I stank so much that most of what I had smelled at night was myself. Nevertheless, all I had left of her was the clothes. I placed them on the bed, straightening them out. They looked like skin waiting for the body to give them shape and life. The top of the bureau where she had placed her jewelry was empty and I ran my hand over the smooth wood, as smooth as her skin. Then I went downstairs.

Hoss was explaining matters to my father, "I done give 'er Little Lou, she didn't take 'her; we ain't got no mules and she was havin' trouble with that Appaloosa. We ain't gonna miss that little cowpony none."

Upon seeing me, my father turned. "What in the world is going on? I return and Kopakashe's gone along with her horse and one of ours. Hop Sing's upset some of his chickens have disappeared and his garden's been ransacked. And you, you left before sunup! Now I know I only live here," he said in his best sarcastic tone, "but I'd appreciate it if someone would please explain it to me!"

I looked at Hoss who glanced at the floor. My father stood with his hands on his hips, waiting. "I left for town early, had matters to tend to. Hoss found me and told me Kopakashe had left. Apparently, she's gone for good as she took everything she owns. My guess is she's heading back to her tribe but I don't know for sure and no matter where she's heading, I can't let her go alone so I'm going to try to bring her back here or see she gets safely to wherever it is she wants to go."

"You are?" my father asked with that look on his face that made his words a challenge.

"Yes, I am. I guess you don't think I should."

"Adam, I am withholding my opinion on that matter; you are a grown man and what you do is up to you, but I want you to remember what I said about certain activities under my roof. If you insist on having Kopakashe here then you…"

"Oh, I remember, Pa. And don't worry about 'your' roof"," I grabbed my trail coat off the rack by the door but as usual, my father had one more thing to say.

"Adam." I turned, waiting. "Just a little home-spun advice: When you bite off more than you can chew, don't be surprised when you choke."

~ 0 ~

The travois made tracking easy. What did throw me off was the direction; Kopakashe was heading east, not north to her people. Hoss had said that she headed out that way and seemed sure of the direction. "Think she just wanted to leave and didn't much care where she went," he said, "but she definitely intended to go east."

All I wanted was to bring Kopakashe back to the Ponderosa, back to shelter and safety. But what if she refused? I couldn't force her. But I tried not to think of that as I tracked her; the lines in the ground from the poles as well as the tracks of the horses' hooves making it easy, and she obviously wasn't hurrying. I flattered myself by thinking that maybe she wanted me to catch up with her but then again, perhaps not. She had a good three-to-four-hours on me and as it grew darker, the more anxious I became. Night made the grooves from the travois hard if not impossible to see but I knew she would stay out in the open so as not to hang the poles up on a tree or brush. So, I continued going due east as that was the direction she had been going when darkness fell. But if by some chance, she wanted to throw off any trackers, night would be the time to change her path.

I considered I should stop for the night, get an early start in the morning, and suddenly, the realization that in my haste, I hadn't packed any bacon and beans, a fry pan. or even a bedroll, made me shake my head; I had behaved impulsively, answered the issue with my heart instead of my head, something I often derided Joe for doing. Guess I'd have to bite my tongue from now on as I couldn't pontificate anymore on how logic should win over emotion.

But I couldn't do much about it, only hope to find something in the morning. Apparently grubs and such are tasty, but they didn't rouse my appetite. Sleeping curled up to keep warm on a bed of branches on a chilly night wasn't what I would ordinarily choose, but at least I'd get some rest and so would my horse. So, I was looking about for a place to hole up for the night when I smelled roasted chicken. I didn't believe it at first; a hungry man can convince himself of anything and I hadn't eaten since the buckwheat pancakes and bacon that morning. My stomach cramped and my mouth watered as I envisioned and practically tasted the crispy skin and succulent flesh of roast chicken. I stopped and listened. And sniffed the air. My horse gently nickered and I heard some horses respond. I dismounted and holding my horse's reins with my gun at the ready, led it toward the sounds. It might be Kopakashe but then again, it might not. I wasn't going to let my "heart" get me shot by some penny ante chicken thief.

I approached and saw a fire and there was the source of the odor, a chicken on a make-shift spit over a fire, grease dripping into the flames that sputtered and then went back to trying to lick the chicken. Little Lou was cropping grass paying no attention to us and behind her was the Appaloosa that seemed more disturbed by our arrival, picking up its ears and standing still. It seemed to be Kopakashe's camp but she was nowhere to be seen. I stared about, ready to call her name, and then heard a sound behind me. I quickly turned and there stood Kopakashe, a blanket hanging about her shoulders and holding a knife. I sighed with relief and holstered my gun.

Had it been Darla I'd been searching for and found, I would have pulled her into my arms and crushed her moth with kisses, telling her that I couldn't live if anything had happened to her; Darla would have expected that. But the Shoshone didn't show their love that way. When Kopakashe had left her tribe's camp, left her family, there were no hugs and kisses, no lingering caresses. I realized I had to understand her ways before I could expect her to understand mine. "Well, here you are," I said. "I came to find you and take you back home." I waited. Kopakashe seemed to be considering the situation and from the way she held the knife, I wondered if she debated gutting me the way she had Hop Sing's chicken. Fortunately, she walked past me, toward the fire and kneeled. She hadn't yet said anything, not that I would have understood just as she didn't understand what I had said but considering how she probably felt about me and the Ponderosa, I think I was lucky she remained silent.

I dropped my horse's reins and went over to the fire. She had baked some sort of cakes on a flat piece of stone heated by the fire, and using the knife, held one up, proffering it to me. "Ad-am," she said, looking at me. I was relieved she was speaking to me and considered that by sharing her food with me, she was showing her affection; I hesitated to call it love. And as filthy as my hands were, I took the cake, saying thank you, although it was hot. I dropped it on my leg and then that burned as well. She laughed. I think she enjoyed getting back at me for all the wrong I had done her.

"So, you think it's funny, huh?" I moved the cake from hand to hand, cooling it down. "I guess you'd really laugh if I dropped it on my privates and scorched them, huh?"

Kopakashe stabbed the other cake, she had only made two, and held it up to cool. I looked at mine. I realized it was oats and some sort of berries, at least I hoped the dark spots were berries. I smelled the cake while she bit off a piece of hers and chewed, waiting. She had probably made a paste and then flattened it for baking but where she found the oats…I looked about and saw a sack of them. Hoss must have given it to her for the horses, but she considered it food. I took a bite and it was as awful as I expected but she continued to eat and since I didn't want to insult her, I managed to choke down all of mine and then we sliced the chicken and finished the meal. While gathering more firewood, I found a creek nearby, pulsing with snowmelt. It was icy cold but I couldn't let that deter me; I washed the chicken grease from my hands and splashed my face and the back of my neck, the water trickling a ways down the back of my shirt; the water must have been the reason Kopakashe camped there. I would have chosen the same spot, not so close to the water that animals would come into camp but close enough to fetch water quickly. When I returned with my armload of wood, Kopakashe had dropped the dinner scraps and chicken bones into the fire and made herself a bed of furs and blankets. Was it for me as well?

"I wish you could understand why I came after you," I said, dumping the wood and then building up the fire. "I'm hoping you'll return with me. I promise things will change. I realize I haven't carried out my responsibilities as your husband or even as an understanding person. I do care for you, Kopakashe…I think I'm even falling in love with you." I knew she didn't understand me, but she did look at me when I said her name. I went on, explaining how I had broken off with Darla and how upset I had been when Hoss had told me she had packed up and left. Then I wiped my hands on my pants and sat back down to warm up, pulling my collar up to keep out the chill, watching her.

She went to her bed, placed the blanket on top of the pile and pulled her dress off over her head and unlaced her high moccasins. I'd be lying if I said watching her undress didn't affect me. Then she placed the dress over a branch and slid in between some of the furs. I just sat there, thinking myself a fool for not bringing along a bedroll. And I wondered if I would embarrass or shame myself by asking to get under the furs. But my question was quickly answered as Kopakashe sat up slightly and looking at me, puzzled, flipped back a corner and asked, "Ada-am?" She laid her hand on the section next to her and said, "Ada-am, epuih. Kamangande e yogό."

I recognized the word "sleep", that and husband, and practically jumped up, tossing off my hat and pulling off my trail coat. I couldn't get out of my clothes fast enough, almost popping the buttons off my shirt, and finally I stood shivering in my long underwear and bear claw necklace. She smiled and called my name again and I shucked it all and was quickly under the pile of furs. Kopakashe laughed like a delighted child and I grinned like a goddamn fool. And then she moved into my arms, flattening her body against mine and I thought I'd cry, I was so overwhelmed. And I did my pleasurable duty in a manner that the Black Bear Husband of legend would be made proud.

I slept heavily and if I dreamed, I didn't remember any. But I woke early; the sun was just peeking over the treetops and glanced over at Kopakashe. Her face was next to mine as she slept on her side, both her arms entwined in mine as if she was fearful I'd leave her during the night. I carefully crawled out from between the warmth of our bedding to the shivering cold, I quickly as I had undressed, I dressed and then went to build up the fire. I didn't want to wake Kopakashe. There was no coffee to make and I didn't want to kill another chicken but maybe, after tending to certain necessities, I could catch a fish.

I chose a long stick about as thick around as my thumb and sharpened one end. I waded a way into the creek no higher than my boot tops, having rolled up my trouser legs, and after about 20 tries and adjusting to the water's distortion of my target, I managed to stab a big fish. I held it up and was rather proud of myself, then headed back to camp like some great hunter.

Kopakashe was sitting up, the fur pulled up to her chin, waiting for me I suppose. I wondered if she thought I'd left her, abandoned her to the wilds after enjoying her. And after the way I had behaved over the past few weeks, I couldn't blame her if she had. "Look! Breakfast!" I said, grinning and holding out the speared fish. She laughed and said something, obviously delighted. "I'm assuming," I said to her as I stood holding my prize trout as some symbol of my male potency, "that you said, 'Oh, my, Adam, aren't you the greatest, most clever fisherman that ever lived and fried fish is just what I've been wanting to eat!"

But her voice dropped slightly and in an almost melodious tone, she said something I didn't understand but I didn't need to as the fur dropped away and she put out both her arms to welcome me; that gesture is understood by every man. I stood looking at her, so lovely and not the least bit modest or shy in front of me. But then, why should she be? I was familiar with just about every inch of her.

"Oh, woman," I said, my voice low, "I do want you—even more than last night now that I know what to expect." And so once again, I shed myself of my clothes and taking her in my arms, felt her smooth skin against me as she nipped my earlobe and slid her hands over my shoulders and back, murmuring soft words. I sighed with pleasure and as far as I was concerned, we were husband and wife and I'd be damned if anyone would tell us we weren't.

TBC