Staring out at the distant mountains, she wondered what Frank was doing. Did he miss her at all? Did she really miss him? A year ago she had fancied herself very much in love with Frank Smythe. Now she wondered if it had just been an infatuation, a desire to be on her own, to run off to the big city and play house.
She thought of Hawk and Victoria. They were so happy together, so much in love. You had only to look at Vickie to see that she was a happy woman. She obviously adored Hawk, and he worshiped her. Seeing them together was almost painful. They were so much a part of each other, and she felt so alone.
Her father and mother, too, shared a love that was a rare and beautiful thing. Mary knew of the many trials and heartaches they had shared, the suffering and sadness they had endured, yet it had not tarnished their love but made it stronger and more rewarding.
She did not hear his footsteps, but she was suddenly aware that she was no longer alone. Glancing over her shoulder, Mary saw Cloud Walker striding toward her. Again she could not help admiring how tall and handsome he was. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans, a red shirt, and Cheyenne moccasins. She thought he looked perfect.
Cloud Walker smiled at Mary uncertainly as he drew near. "Do you want to be alone?" he asked.
"No." Mary gestured at the place beside her. "Please sit down."
For a moment they were silent. Mary was keenly aware of the man sitting beside her. She had thought Frank Smythe was tall, but Cloud Walker was taller. Frank was handsome, but Cloud Walker was more so, and he possessed an inner strength of character that Frank Smythe would never have.
She felt Cloud Walker's eyes on her face and she blushed. What was he thinking? Why had he come looking for her? She felt drawn to him, and wondered if he felt the same.
"Why did you leave Chicago?" Cloud Walker asked abruptly. "If it is none of my business, tell me so."
"I was unhappy there, so I came home."
"Why were you unhappy? Was your husband cruel?"
"Not physically. He didn't beat me or anything. I guess he just wasn't ready to settle down. He wanted to laugh and flirt with every girl he met. And when Katherine was born, he . . . he was ashamed."
"Because she looks Cheyenne?"
"Yes." Mary laughed bitterly. "I think he forgot that I am Cheyenne, too, even though I don't look it." She turned to face Cloud Walker. ''I felt like a freak. When our friends discovered I was Indian, they looked at me differently. Some of them made jokes, and some were shocked to think they had invited a savage into their homes. I'm not ashamed of being Cheyenne. Should I be?"
"No. They should be ashamed. But there will always be white people who think they are better than the Indian. They hear stories of the old days, and they think we are all savages."
"Maybe we are."
Cloud Walker made a sound of disgust low in his throat. "Do not talk nonsense. Is your father a savage? Your brothers? I have seen the way your father cares for your mother, how he cherishes her. Does a savage behave like that? I have seen Hawk help those less fortunate than he. Does a savage do that? I have seen Blackie save countless animal lives and do many kind things for the old woman who lives alone at the edge of town. Do savages save lives and help others unselfishly? You are being foolish, Mary," he said, his voice gently chiding. "Do not let ignorant white people destroy your faith in yourself, in what you are."
Mary smiled, her heart flooding with gratitude for Cloud Walker's words of wisdom. He was right, of course. She was being foolish.
"My mother told me about your family," Mary said after a while. "I'm sorry."
Cloud Walker nodded. Time had eased his grief and taken the edge from his pain. Now, as he gazed into Mary's soft gray eyes, he knew he was ready to love again.
They spent the rest of the afternoon together, talking of unimportant things, playing with Katherine, wading in the cold water. Cloud Walker felt as if his heart had come alive again. He had been dead inside for so long that it was almost painful to smile, to laugh out loud. He could not keep his eyes off Mary. Her smile was breathtaking, her laughter like the tinkling of the tiny silver bells that had once adorned his mother's lodge. He watched her play with Katherine, and his heart ached to be a part of a family again, to hold a child in his arms, to know the love of a woman who was his and his alone.
He was aware of Mary with every fiber of his being. When she looked at him, his blood pounded in his ears and all his senses came alive. Her voice was like music and he asked her many questions just to hear the sound of her voice. Once, their hands touched and it was like being kissed by the sun. He felt the heat explode through his whole body. Did she feel it, too? Was she aware of the magic between them? Did it please her?
Mary was indeed aware of the chemistry between them. She wondered if it was merely a physical attraction or the promise of something deeper and more meaningful, and then she shook her head, disgusted with herself for even thinking such a thing. She was a married woman with a child. But she could not help the way she felt, the way Cloud Walker made her feel. Just looking at him made her heart sing and her blood hum, and when his hand touched hers, it was like being reborn.
Later they sat side by side while Katherine slept.
Cloud Walker watched Mary fashion a wreath from leaves and grass, admiring the way the sun danced in her hair, the way she smiled when a butterfly alighted on her shoulder. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind he knew that only trouble could come of his feelings for her. A wise man would leave before it was too late, before his unspoken affection for her blossomed into something beyond control. But he knew he would not leave. Though she would never be his, he would stay, just to be near her.
My daughter was happier after that. I saw the change in her eyes, heard it in her voice. The bitterness seemed to have melted from around her heart and she sang cheerfully as she helped me around the house. She spent time with Blackie, telling him about the East, about the museums and the zoo and the theater. Blackie listened intently, his eyes alight with interest, but he never expressed any desire to visit the East except to see the zoo. Imagine, live elephants and lions and tigers so close you could almost reach out and touch them. And camels and exotic birds and snakes. Alligators and seals, monkeys and gorillas.
Blackie had a natural talent for healing, and the town's veterinarian, Chester Cole, decided that such a gift should not go to waste. He began to take Blackie with him on his rounds. My son was in heaven. He spent every weekend with Chester Cole, traveling from farm to farm, assisting the doctor as he treated wounds and aided in difficult deliveries. Blackie learned how to recognize various diseases and how to treat them. He learned new skills in the care of cuts and burns, how to give injections. Chester Cole was amazed at how quickly Blackie learned, but Shadow and I were not the least bit surprised. Blackie had been practicing to be a veterinarian ever since he could walk.
Pa and Rebecca were taking life easy. Pa was growing older and he had hired two young Texans to look after his herd. A boy in town had been hired to weed Rebecca's garden. Pa spent a good deal of his time reading. He had bought several dozen books while in Pennsylvania, including several volumes of Shakespeare and Dickens. Rebecca had taken up knitting. Ruth Tippitt had taught her the basics, and Rebecca was busily engaged in knitting a sweater and matching cap for Katherine.
Once a month on a Sunday we all went to Pa's house for dinner. Sometimes we sat around for hours reminiscing about the old days, remembering how it had been when there were just a few families in Bear Valley. Sometimes Pa talked about his past and the days he had spent with the old mountain man who had saved his life after his parents were killed by Indians.
Other times we tried to predict what the future would bring. The turn of the century was only a few months away and there were dire predictions that the world would come to an end on January first. Other would-be seers predicted terrible catastrophes: fires and floods, earthquakes and plagues. Pa dismissed them all as a lot of hogwash.
At first Cloud Walker had refused to
accompany us to Pa's house for our monthly get-togethers. He was not family and he felt as if he'd be intruding. It was Mary who finally persuaded Cloud Walker to go with us, and though he rarely spoke, we all enjoyed having him there, especially Mary.
"There's a romance brewing there or I miss my guess," Rebecca remarked to me one afternoon when we were alone. "You can practically feel the heat between them."
I nodded, though I had mixed emotions about Mary's budding relationship with Cloud Walker. I had nothing against Cloud Walker. He was a fine young man, hard-working, honest, reliable. But Mary was still Frank Smythe's wife, for better or worse. Frank had written Mary only one letter since she had moved back home, asking her, quite formally, to reconsider her decision and return to Chicago. Mary had written him a short note in reply, stating she was not ready to return to Chicago, or to him. I knew she was hurt because Frank had made no mention of loving her or missing her; nor had he asked after Katherine.
I watched Mary and Cloud Walker now. They were sitting on the sofa before the fireplace with Katherine between them. I could see that Cloud Walker was remembering his own lost child as he played with my granddaughter. Some hurts took a long time to heal. Some never did.
I thought wistfully of my own first child. It had been a boy, stillborn in the wilds of Arizona. I did not often think of him, but sometimes my heart ached for the child I had never seen, never held.
I shook the melancholy memories away as Shadow stood up. It was getting late, time to start for home.
I gave Rebecca a hug and kissed my father on the cheek. There was a strong bond of love in our family, and I knew that no matter what the future held, we could face it so long as we were together.
17
Katherine was asleep in her grandmother's arms when Mary left the house to go for a walk. It was good to be back in Bear Valley, good to be home. Since returning from Chicago, she had renewed several old friendships with girls she had grown up with. Most were sympathetic about her marital problems, declaring that Frank Smythe was a heel of the worst kind to turn his back on his wife and daughter. A few were philosophical about the whole thing. If it was meant to be, it would work out in time; if not, it was for the best.
Mary felt a sense of peace as she walked along. She belonged here. The land was in her blood, in her heart, and she realized she would never have been happy to stay in Chicago for very long. She had missed the plains, missed the vast blue vault of the sky overhead, missed the sight of the distant mountains towering in the west. And most of all she had missed her family. It was a joy to see her mother and father and brother every day, to feel their love. Perhaps if Frank had loved her as her father loved her mother, she would not have missed her family quite so much. Or maybe it was just that she had not really loved Frank, at least not the way a wife should love her husband.
Mary sighed heavily. Eventually she and Frank would either have to resolve their differences or end their marriage, but for now she was content to leave things as they were.
She paused as she realized she had made a wide loop around the house to the breaking pen. The corral was empty, and she felt a pang of disappointment. She couldn't admit it, not even to herself, but she knew she had hoped to find Cloud Walker here.
She was turning back toward the house when she saw him coming toward her. He was leading the spotted Appaloosa filly.
Cloud Walker's heart skipped a beat when he saw Mary standing near the corral. Was it possible she had been looking for him? Could he be that lucky? His eyes looked on her and were pleased. Each time he saw her, he was struck anew by her beauty. Today she was wearing a black riding skirt and a bright yellow shirtwaist. Her hair, drawn away from her face, was gathered at the nape of her neck with a perky white bow.
"Hello," she said, smiling shyly. "I was just out for a breath of fresh air."
Cloud Walker nodded as he returned her smile. "Would you like to go for a ride?"
"Yes, I'd like that."
Mary followed Cloud Walker to the barn and watched while he saddled the spotted filly for her, then bridled a raw-boned black gelding for himself. Her heart gave a queer little thump when he put his hands around her waist to help her mount. Their eyes met and held for a long moment. To Mary, it seemed as though time had lost its meaning. Her mouth went suddenly dry and her stomach felt as though a million butterflies were dancing inside.
Cloud Walker felt the blood singing in his veins and he knew if he held Mary much longer, he would do something rash.
"Ready?" he asked hoarsely.
Mary nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Side by side they rode away from the barn and down toward the river. It was a lovely day, cool and clear. Fat powder-puff clouds drifted across the sky, like ships floating on the sea.
Mary studied Cloud Walker furtively as they rode along. He looked good on a horse, she mused. He rode without a saddle, his long legs straddling the horse with easy assurance. His hands were light on the reins, knowledgeable, expert. He wore a pair of tight blue jeans and a dark red shirt. Well-worn moccasins hugged his feet.
They rode in silence for some time. At the river Cloud Walker looked over at Mary. "Shall we cross?"
"If you like."
The spotted filly followed the gelding into the river, stepping daintily into the water like a woman who didn't want to get her feet wet. The horse was a pleasure to ride, Mary thought as she stroked the mare's sleek neck.
When they reached the far side of the river, Mary urged the filly into a lope, laughing with delight as the wind whipped through her hair and stung her cheeks. It felt so good to be riding again, to run free over the vast sunlit prairie. She heard Cloud Walker coming up behind her and she urged the leopard mare to go faster, her heart feeling light and carefree for the first time in months. It was wonderful to be alive on such a beautiful day.
Mary let the Appaloosa run until the animal began to tire, and then she drew rein beneath a tree whose leaves had turned from spring green to brilliant autumn colors of gold and red and rust.
In moments, Cloud Walker drew up beside her, his dark eyes glowing and happy.
''You ride well for a woman," he said.
"Thank you, sir," Mary replied saucily. "You ride well for a man."
Cloud Walker threw back his head and laughed out loud. It was the first time Mary had seen him laugh wholeheartedly, and she was amazed at how much more handsome he was when he looked happy. It was the first time she had seen him look genuinely amused, the first time the sadness had been gone from his eyes.
For a few moments they sat in the shade in companionable silence. Birds twittered in the treetops, a squirrel darted down the trunk and disappeared in the tall yellow grass. In the distance a skunk made its way across the prairie, its tail straight up, its nose testing the gentle breeze that ruffled the grass and sighed softly through the autumn leaves.
"My father came to my mother's rescue out here when they were kids," Mary remarked, gesturing toward a low ridge some twenty yards away. "My mother was riding with a friend when a bunch of young Cheyenne braves surrounded them. The Indians wanted to kill Joshua and take my mother prisoner, but then my father rode up and told the Indians to leave the white girl and her friend in peace. My mother said she was scared to death until my father arrived, and then she wasn't afraid anymore."
"Your father is greatly respected on the reservation," Cloud Walker replied. "When the old ones speak of the great chiefs, your father's name is always mentioned."
Mary nodded. "He was a great warrior. My mother has often told us stories of his bravery in battle, and how he led a band of renegade warriors in one last effort to be free after the battle at Little Big Horn. My mother rode with them and fought with them for a short time," Mary added proudly. "I don't think I would have had the courage to ride into battle with the men."
"You never know what you will do until the time comes," Cloud Walker said. "But I think you are very much like your mother. I think you would also ride to battle b
eside the man you loved."
"Maybe," Mary allowed dubiously. "I hope I never have to find out."
"Have you heard from your husband?"
"No."
Hope flared in Cloud Walker's heart. His feelings for Mary were growing stronger with each passing day. Perhaps if Mary and her husband decided to end their marriage, he, Cloud Walker, would have a chance to win her heart. The mere thought filled him with exhilaration. What joy, to have Mary for his own! And then reality set in. He had nothing to offer Mary, nothing at all. In the old days, he might have kidnapped her and carried her off to his lodge in the Black Hills, but those days were gone. He was a man without a home of his own, with nothing of value to offer a woman.
"Shall we sit down for a while?" Mary asked. "It's pretty here."
Cloud Walker nodded. Vaulting lightly to the ground, he placed his hands around Mary's tiny waist and helped her from her horse. He held her for just a moment longer than necessary before he released her, and then he sat down beside her on the thick buffalo grass.
"How long are you going to stay in Bear Valley?" he asked.
"I don't know. I was hoping. . . . oh, never mind."
"You were hoping your husband would have come after you by now?" Cloud Walker guessed.
"Yes," Mary admitted ruefully. "But I don't think Frank is going to come after me."
"Do you still love him?"
"I don't know," Mary answered, shaking her head. "I wonder if I ever did."
"If he comes for you, will you go back to Chicago with him?"
"I don't know that either."
"I do not mean to pry," Cloud Walker said apologetically. "Forgive me."
"It's all right," Mary assured him. She picked up a large red-gold leaf and twirled it between her fingers. "I don't think Frank and I can ever be happy together now. He's ashamed of Katherine because she looks like my father's people. I can't live with a man who's ashamed of his own child, ashamed of me. I don't think Frank will ever be able to overcome that."
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