Free Tiopa Ki Lakota by D Jordan Redhawk Page A

and that's a fact. There were two benches on either side of the table and a chair at one end. The lantern glowed from the center, illuminating the small cabin.
    Kathleen moved around the room, clucking at the film of grime that seemed to invade every nook and cranny. The mantel above the fireplace held a small silver frame. It was the only thing that wasn't layered with dust. She picked it up to peer at it closely. The picture inside was a tiny painting of a woman with dark hair and somber grey eyes.
    "My first wife, Amanda," Stevens said softly.
    Startled, the blonde jumped and nearly dropped the artwork. Her husband reached around her and smoothly caught it before it could fall to the floor. With a blush, she turned and began apologizing. "I'm sorry, Adam."
    "Don't be, love," the man said. His blue eyes held a measure of tender sadness. He settled the frame back on the mantel. Almost absently, his other arm wrapped around her and he held her close. "What's past is past and I'll not discuss it this night." Stevens grinned down at her. "'Tis our wedding night." And he ducked down for a kiss.
    The butterflies in her stomach raged as they fluttered about.
     
    When all was said and done, it wasn't near as bad as she'd been making it out to be. But, as Kathleen lay on her side, staring at the wall of the tiny cabin, she cried in silence. She missed her mum and da and even bratty Stewart. She missed her home.
    Behind her, sprawled on his back, Stevens slept. He snored gently, blissfully ignorant of his new young wife's distress.
    It had hurt, at first. Her mother had told her it would. And Kathleen knew she'd be sore for the next day. Yet, it had become an interesting sensation. But, did it have ta take so long? she wondered, wiping tears away. She wondered how often she would have to submit to her husband, how often he'd want her in that way. 'Twill be worth it in time. We'll have lots of wee babes roamin' 'round.
    Kathleen thought of her own bed in her parents' cabin, thought of hearing her brother as he talked in his sleep, thought of waking up to hear her mother preparing breakfast and her da groaning about getting old before his time. Another spate of tears reached her and she clutched the quilt her mum had made to her chest.
     
    1777
    Kathleen tightly twisted the cloth in her hands, holding it over the tub of water. When she'd satisfactorily removed most of the excess, she tossed the damp item into a nearby basket. It was a beautiful spring afternoon. Birds were chittering to each other in the stand of pine trees nearby, the only sound that could easily be heard. If the young woman concentrated, she could hear her husband in the fields behind the cabin, cussing at the horse he worked.
    Today was laundry day, an all day affair. Before her were two large wooden tubs, one of them sitting on a table. There were also two buckets nearby that she'd been using to transfer water from the well. The table tub held the soapy water she'd been using to clean their clothes and now she was rinsing the final load in the second tub, stirring them with a large stick before pulling each piece out to wring dry.
    And that's the last of it , she thought with a happy sigh. Using her apron, she dried off her hands and used a corner of it to wipe the sweat from her forehead. At this rate, I might be able ta take a bath b'fore dinner. Kathleen picked up the heavy basket of wet clothing and brought it to the ropes she'd had her husband string up between the cabin and the trees two years ago. Most of their clothes already hung there, flapping in the light breeze, and she prepared to add more to their company.
    It had been a good marriage to date. While she didn't exactly love Stevens, she had grown rather fond of him. He was always so gentle and kind, trying his best to not show his disappointment as yet another month went by and still no children. Kathleen couldn't understand what the problem was. Their intimacy was a regular thing - twice a week,