did Katie really cast Eagle a reproachful glance?
“Thanks to your brother,” Whitney said wryly, “I’ve learned how ignorant I am.” The flutterings in her stomach were becoming gnawing pains. They had nothing to do with White Eagle; she was ravenously hungry! “What’s in the pan?” she inquired, sniffing.
“Good old Indian bacon and eggs,” Eagle said with his sardonic grin. “This is going to be your last ‘civilized’ meal for a while. And the last one I will be cooking. In Miccosukee society, the women still do the cooking.”
“I’m a good cook,” Whitney retorted, accepting the plate he handed her. His reply was a raised brow of amusement.
“Don’t let this man get to you,” Randy Harris said with a laugh at their interchange. “The Seminoles were counted in with the Five Civilized Tribes back in pioneer days. They were never given to caveman tactics and barbarism!”
Katie Eagle started to say something, but her brother quickly cut her off in their native tongue. Whitney glanced at them both with confusion, then at Randy. “That’s Miccosukee or ‘Hitchiti,’” he told her with a chuckle, “and I guarantee you, it’s not easy to learn! Then if you do learn it and meet up with the Cow Creek Seminoles, you have to start all over again. They speak Muskogee, like the Creeks from Oklahoma.”
Whitney smiled wanly. She had never even heard the word “Muskogee” before, nor did she know that Creeks lived in Oklahoma. “What are they talking about?” she asked him loudly, purposely interrupting the conversation that had grown animated between brother and sister. Not only did it seem rude, but she was sure they were discussing her.
“Can’t tell you,” Randy said with a shake of his head. “They’re speeding along too fast for me.”
“We disagree on the best way to introduce you to Indian life,” Eagle said smoothly. “Right, Katie?”
“Right,” his sister agreed with a sigh. “You will enjoy my grandmother, Whitney. She is hard-core Miccosukee.”
“That’s what Eagle says,” Whitney mused, wondering if there was a warning in the words. Still, she felt an element of safety in spite of her niggling suspicions. At least the sandy-haired man and Eagle’s friendly sister knew where she would be!
“Look!” Randy said suddenly, his voice a hush as he pointed across the lawn. “One of our peculiar beauties … a great white heron.”
Whitney followed his pointing finger and watched as the graceful bird closed its mighty wingspan and cocked its head to the breeze. The bird delicately balanced on a single foot for a second, a proud, immobile statue against the blue gold sky, then bunched its muscles and few into the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, Whitney silently agreed.
“Randy’s thing is birds,” Katie said.
“Wildlife,” Randy corrected, offering Whitney a wryly apologetic grin. “I can go off on tangents, so don’t let me.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offered them around. Thinking with surprise that she hadn’t missed smoking all night, Whitney gratefully accepted one and inhaled deeply. “Have to be real careful with these things in these parts,” Randy warned, indicating his cigarette and matches.
“You arrived at the tail end of the rainy season,” Eagle said as Whitney glanced with a frown at the wetness that surrounded their immediate dry circle. “For six months of the year we’re lucky if get a few inches of rain. A fire in the Glades can be a terrible thing. The earth itself burns.”
“I’ll be careful,” Whitney promised, pouring herself more coffee to accompany her cigarette.
“Maybe I’ll cure you of the habit before the week is out, anyway,” Eagle said, watching her expression as he leaned back on an elbow and musingly chewed on a blade of grass.
“Pardon?” Whitney looked at him suspiciously.
“You won’t be smoking.”
“Now wait a minute!” Whitney protested. “You keep making up
“Thanks to your brother,” Whitney said wryly, “I’ve learned how ignorant I am.” The flutterings in her stomach were becoming gnawing pains. They had nothing to do with White Eagle; she was ravenously hungry! “What’s in the pan?” she inquired, sniffing.
“Good old Indian bacon and eggs,” Eagle said with his sardonic grin. “This is going to be your last ‘civilized’ meal for a while. And the last one I will be cooking. In Miccosukee society, the women still do the cooking.”
“I’m a good cook,” Whitney retorted, accepting the plate he handed her. His reply was a raised brow of amusement.
“Don’t let this man get to you,” Randy Harris said with a laugh at their interchange. “The Seminoles were counted in with the Five Civilized Tribes back in pioneer days. They were never given to caveman tactics and barbarism!”
Katie Eagle started to say something, but her brother quickly cut her off in their native tongue. Whitney glanced at them both with confusion, then at Randy. “That’s Miccosukee or ‘Hitchiti,’” he told her with a chuckle, “and I guarantee you, it’s not easy to learn! Then if you do learn it and meet up with the Cow Creek Seminoles, you have to start all over again. They speak Muskogee, like the Creeks from Oklahoma.”
Whitney smiled wanly. She had never even heard the word “Muskogee” before, nor did she know that Creeks lived in Oklahoma. “What are they talking about?” she asked him loudly, purposely interrupting the conversation that had grown animated between brother and sister. Not only did it seem rude, but she was sure they were discussing her.
“Can’t tell you,” Randy said with a shake of his head. “They’re speeding along too fast for me.”
“We disagree on the best way to introduce you to Indian life,” Eagle said smoothly. “Right, Katie?”
“Right,” his sister agreed with a sigh. “You will enjoy my grandmother, Whitney. She is hard-core Miccosukee.”
“That’s what Eagle says,” Whitney mused, wondering if there was a warning in the words. Still, she felt an element of safety in spite of her niggling suspicions. At least the sandy-haired man and Eagle’s friendly sister knew where she would be!
“Look!” Randy said suddenly, his voice a hush as he pointed across the lawn. “One of our peculiar beauties … a great white heron.”
Whitney followed his pointing finger and watched as the graceful bird closed its mighty wingspan and cocked its head to the breeze. The bird delicately balanced on a single foot for a second, a proud, immobile statue against the blue gold sky, then bunched its muscles and few into the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, Whitney silently agreed.
“Randy’s thing is birds,” Katie said.
“Wildlife,” Randy corrected, offering Whitney a wryly apologetic grin. “I can go off on tangents, so don’t let me.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offered them around. Thinking with surprise that she hadn’t missed smoking all night, Whitney gratefully accepted one and inhaled deeply. “Have to be real careful with these things in these parts,” Randy warned, indicating his cigarette and matches.
“You arrived at the tail end of the rainy season,” Eagle said as Whitney glanced with a frown at the wetness that surrounded their immediate dry circle. “For six months of the year we’re lucky if get a few inches of rain. A fire in the Glades can be a terrible thing. The earth itself burns.”
“I’ll be careful,” Whitney promised, pouring herself more coffee to accompany her cigarette.
“Maybe I’ll cure you of the habit before the week is out, anyway,” Eagle said, watching her expression as he leaned back on an elbow and musingly chewed on a blade of grass.
“Pardon?” Whitney looked at him suspiciously.
“You won’t be smoking.”
“Now wait a minute!” Whitney protested. “You keep making up
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