Wiping her eyes, Jacie rode into town. A few men were still out on the street, and they stared curiously at the sight of what they took to be an Indian girl, all alone. But in her misery, she was oblivious to anything around her—until someone yelled in an ugly tone, "What're you doing here, squaw? We don't want no squaws here."
She looked at him with disdain, then saw she was right in front of a sign that read rooms. She dismounted.
"I said..." The man came running over, his face twisted with anger. He was followed by two others. "I said we don't want no squaws here. Now you just ride back out of here, and there won't be no trouble."
"No, there won't be," she said frostily, "because I am not a squaw. I am white. Now I am going to go into this hotel and get a room, and have a bath, and then I will find a store somewhere that will sell me a dress. Then I will look white. Will that make you happy?"
"Well, yeah, sure," he said uneasily, then stiffened. "But how come you're dressed in that dirty skin dress if you ain't no squaw?"
She laughed shortly. "I don't see where that's any of your business, mister."
"I'd say it is. I think you're a breed."
"No. Both my parents were white," she said sweetly, all the while thinking how rude he was.
"Then you been livin' with Indians. Is that it? You been livin' with them savages, and if you have, that makes you one of 'em."
"If I have, it's still none of your concern," she said, dismounting. She hitched the pony to the rail and started up the hotel steps.
His friends snickered at how she had stood up to him, which made him even madder. "Well you just go get yourself cleaned up, and then we'll decide whether you can stay."
She was halfway up the steps but whirled about to stare at him. "But if I look like an Indian, I can't? Why is that?"
"We don't want redskins in our town." He struck the air with his fist. "Dirty, stealin', no-account murderin' redskins. The only good Indian is a dead Indian."
His friends cheered in approval.
Jacie realized that this was what Luke had meant when he said if she found her mother and took her back she would be miserable. Prejudice was everywhere. Cold, cruel, mean.
All of a sudden she did not want to go inside the hotel. She went back down the steps, untied her pony, and led him down the street and back out of town, the laughter of the men echoing behind her. She would camp in the woods and tomorrow morning would seek the man Luke had told her about, Howard Carson. If he were friends with Luke, he would not be rude. He would help her get back to... what?
She stood frozen in the darkness.
What exactly was she going back to? And what, exactly, had she been looking for when she came west?
Had it really been her mother?
Placing her hand against her breast, she was stunned to feel the warmth radiating. It was as though Luke were actually touching, caressing, her heart, her soul. Was he thinking of her in that instant?
And that was when she heard the whisper from deep within, warmth spreading throughout her body, coursing through her veins, as her heart began to actually burn with the intensity of the love she was feeling... for it was the message she had longed to hear—but not what she had expected, for it spoke not of Michael.
Instead, her heart was whispering with love for Luke.
In that moment, as the moon slipped from behind a silver-tipped cloud in the magenta sky, Jacie knew she had, indeed, been looking for something besides her mother—and she had found it. It was called happiness, the one thing she had never sought before, fearing it was beyond her grasp.
But did she dare reach for it now?
And was she willing to fight to hang on to it if she did?
It would not be easy to enter the world of the Comanche, but her own mother had done so, had actually chosen that life over the one she had been born into when given the chance to return to it. And even though Jacie could not be completely sure she was able to do likewise, she knew she had to try. To turn her back now would leave her with an emptiness inside never to be fulfilled, and that would not be fair to Michael, who certainly did not deserve to have a wife who secretly pined for another man.
And didn't she owe something to herself as well?
Wasn't it time she stopped robbing herself of true joy by attempting to avoid misery? Already, only minutes after parting from Luke, Jacie felt as though a part of her was missing. What would it be like in the years to come?
She did not want to find out.
She mounted the pony and urged him into a gallop in the direction Luke had gone.
Night wrapped about her, and with the moon slipping in and out of the clouds, it was hard to see anything.
What if she could not find him?
What if he were gone to her forever?
Don't let it be too late, she prayed, every nerve screaming as desperation surged. She called out to him, the sound echoing forlornly in the night....
Finally, surrounded by empty darkness, she knew it was hopeless.
He had ridden away, hard and fast. Now it really was over, and God forgive her, in that moment she did not want to live....
But then the clouds parted once more, and she gasped at the sight of him. Bathed in moonlight, he was sitting on the stallion on the rise just ahead.
Luke saw her and gave thanks he had not been able to force himself to ride away just yet, hoping against hope she would come to him.
Leaping to the ground, she began to run toward him, sobbing his name over and over, her arms outstretched.
Luke jumped from his own horse and ran to meet her, grabbing her and swinging her up and around and around. Then he gently lowered her to her tiptoes and searched her face in a frantic attempt to assure himself she knew what she was doing.
"It's the point of no return, Luke," she whispered raggedly, fervently. "I can't go back. I know now it was you I was looking for all along, because my heart has spoken to me at last. It tells me that I love you." Pressing her head against his chest, she hugged him with all her might.
"Are you sure, little one?" he asked softly.
She twined her arms about his neck to pull his face down to hers. "I've never been so sure of anything in my life."
He kissed her then, long and hard, and they clung together as Jacie reveled in the knowledge that Mehlonga had been right.
Her heart had spoken, and thank God, she had listened.
Chapter 23
They rode north across land that seemed monotonous. A cloud sending a shadow to earth was comfort for their burning eyes. The soil was gray; the vegetation sparse. Scattered sagebrush, Spanish dagger, prickly pear cactus clumped here and there.
Along the way they spotted herds of buffalo, and Jacie teasingly warned Luke not to dare think of trying to bring one down. He said there was no time, because he was anxious to reach his people. But he pointed out to her how the bulls had shed most of their long hair, and she could see how fat the brown calves were as they trailed at the cows' flanks.
They did not lack for food. Luke killed a deer, so they had fresh meat for a few nights. Jacie had little trouble coaxing him to catch fish when they passed a stream, and they munched on hard, green prairie plums, which were plentiful.
It was a relief to finally reach the Red River and the cottonwood trees growing along its banks like giants. Their whitish-gray furrowed trunks were bigger than Luke could reach around, and they towered above with rustling leaves to offer the respite of cooling shade.
Still, Luke did not tarry, explaining he needed to get to the winter camp to help prepare for winter.
They talked constantly as they rode, eager to learn as much as possible about each other.
One day, as Jacie rode astraddle in front of Luke, the pony trailing behind them, he began to talk about his father. She was impressed to hear how Great Bear had changed from a warlike chief to one seeking peace for all of his people. But she was sickened and horrified when Luke described his life prior to his conversion. He admitted to
taking part in raids on white settlements, to killing people, burning their homes, stealing horses, livestock. "I'm not proud of those days, Jacie," he said. "But you must understand I knew no other way of life then. Once I went to the missionary school, I knew I could never again take a life except to save my own."
"I'm surprised your father let you go. He didn't know any other way, so why would he want you educated, knowing it would probably change you completely? And what made him change himself and want peace?"
Luke chose his words carefully. To explain fully meant telling Jacie about Sunstar and her influence on his father, which he was not ready to do. "He was a wise man. He realized the world was changing and the way of the Indian could not continue."
"Then he was afraid your people would eventually be defeated by the white man's settlement of the west."
"No. That was not his thinking. The Comanche were defeating themselves. We had already been tested by a century of warring with Spaniards and enemy tribes and had been victorious. Every man was a strong warrior, wily, intelligent, courageous even to death. We knew the land intimately and fought when and where we chose. Texans feared and hated us. No." He shook his head for emphasis. "My father did not fear the Comanche as a whole could be defeated. It was only when they began to fight among themselves that they started getting weak."
"You're talking about warriors like Black Serpent and his men?"
"Partially, but you see the Comanche divided into a number of self-governing bands with no real unified leadership, which made them incapable of sticking together to fight either a tribal or a national war. Instead of attacking with organized armies, they had nothing but angry war parties. It's still true. That's why they will eventually be beaten, and why I plan to take my band to Mexico. We've always been nomadic, another weakness. It's time we settled down."
"In Mexico," Jacie said with a shiver of anticipation at the thought of the new life awaiting, so different from anything she had ever known before. Then apprehension crept over her once more, and she asked, "What is going to happen when we get to your camp? How are your people going to feel about your bringing me there?"
"At first, they'll consider you my captive."
"Does that mean I will share your tepee as your... wife? Or do you already have one?” she asked fearfully.
Luke decided to tease her. "Actually a Comanche can have more than one wife. He inherits his wife's younger sisters, and he can always steal women from enemy tribes. Then there's the custom we also practice called the levirate, when brothers lend one another their wives."
Jacie asked uneasily, "Do you have brothers?"
"No." Luke was having a difficult time keeping a straight face.
She twisted sideways to see the twinkle in his eye. "And you don't have any other wives, do you? If you did, you wouldn't be bringing me back, because you know I'd never agree to being part of a harem."
"Harem?" Luke repeated, unfamiliar with the term.
"That's when a man has many wives, concubines they're sometimes called, another word for lovers, mistresses, a group of women a man takes turns bedding."
"Well, I don't have a harem. Or a wife. But you'll have to sneak into my tepee after everyone has fallen asleep. It's the custom."
She laughed. "I'll do nothing of the kind. Making love out here on the trail is different. No one knows about it. But sneaking around like that, chancing someone might find out, well, that's something a woman of ill repute would do."
"Not if it's a custom they were raised with. Sexual relations before marriage aren't encouraged by my people, but they aren't punished, either, because a man doesn't marry at an early age. He has to gain a reputation as a hunter and warrior, first, because that puts him in a good position to take the girl of his choice for his wife. So boys and girls slip around to be together."
"And you expect me to do the same thing?"
"You have to, as long as we aren't man and wife. I'm not supposed to come to you. It isn't the custom."
Jacie decided to change the subject. He would learn soon enough she had no intentions of sneaking around at night and crawling into tepees, for heaven's sake. "Is your mother living?"
"Yes," he said. As far as he was concerned, Sunstar was his mother, so it was true.
"What will she think of me?"
He wouldn't let himself consider an honest answer, that Sunstar would be delirious with joy. He hedged, "She never questions what I do." That was a lie, he smiled to himself to think. Unlike other Comanche mothers, she did not shy away from voicing disapproval when she felt it was warranted.
Jacie relaxed a little. "What is her name?"
"Sunstar."
"That's pretty. Do you look at all like her?"
"No. She's not my real mother. My real mother died. My father took Sunstar as his wife when I was still a child."
"And they had no other children?"
"No." Luke was starting to feel uncomfortable. Spotting a rabbit, he seized the chance to end the conversation by quickly dismounting to pursue their dinner.
They camped that night out in the open, and after their passion was spent, Jacie lay on her back staring up at the theater nature had provided for their entertainment. A star careened across the velvet curtain, and she exclaimed with delight. Never had she been able to witness a star's journey for so long, but then she'd never been afforded the backdrop of such a broad highway.
Luke lay beside her, smiling at her joy, as well as at his own. Her exuberance was infectious, and he was going to like the experience of teaching her all the wonders of that part of the earth that was theirs.
Jacie did not mind the tedious ride as they traveled north, for they did not run out of things to talk about. She asked the name of every plant, insect, or animal she saw. Luke wanted to hear more about Mehlonga and all she had learned from him. He was also eager for her to tell him about the way she had lived before, but he carefully avoided the subject of her fiancé. So the hours passed slowly but sweetly, in that special wonder-of-you-and-me time enjoyed and savored by those in the throes of falling ever more deeply in love.
Then late one afternoon, Jacie was startled to see smoke spiraling from beyond a distant ridge. "Does that mean Indians?"
"No. It means settlers, and they're friends. The Turnage family. My men and I saved them from the Tonkawa once, and now they live in peace, because they're friends to all the tribes and everyone else who passes by here. We're only a day away from my camp now, and we'll stay here tonight. Maybe Mrs. Turnage will loan you a clean dress."
The thought of a bath, clean clothes, maybe even a real home-cooked meal was thrilling, and Jacie urged him to go faster.
They topped the ridge, and no sooner had the cabin come into view when people began to appear on the porch. Luke called out, and they started waving. Two little boys and a girl ran down the steps. A man in overalls and a plaid shirt stood with his arm around a woman in green calico, both of them smiling to see a dear and treasured friend. Beside them were two teenage sons and another daughter, who looked to be the oldest.
"Praise God, Luke. It's been a long time," the man said when they rode into the yard, but his eyes narrowed at the sight of Jacie. "Who you got there with you?"
"Don't get the wrong idea, Silas. She's not a prisoner. She's with me of her own will. This is Jacie. Jacie, meet Silas Turnage and his wife, Martha. I can't remember all the names of their offspring."
Martha recited their names, which Jacie knew she'd have trouble remembering, and then came to give her a hug of welcome as she dismounted. "Welcome, child. Any friend of Luke's is a friend of ours. He's a fine man. Saved our lives, he did. But where did you come from? And look at you." She held her at arm's length for scrutiny. "Why, you even remind—"
"Martha." Luke spoke so sharply that all eyes were upon him, startled, and he realized he had reacted in a way that might raise suspicion, but he knew Martha had been about to comment that Jacie had eyes like Sunstar, and that would not do. Forcing a smile, albeit
nervously, he said, "I was hoping you'd help Jacie get a bath, loan her a dress. That is, if we can impose on your hospitality for the night."
"Why, don't be silly. Of course you're stayin'. Jacie can bed down with the girls, and you can sleep in the barn, like you always insist on doin'."
Martha had started to lead Jacie inside, but Luke moved quickly to wave to the oldest daughter and say, "You go with her. I need to talk to your ma."
Jacie was too excited to notice how Luke was behaving. She went with Myra, the fifteen-year-old, and as soon as they disappeared inside, Luke pulled Martha and Silas aside and told them everything.
When he had finished, Martha had to dab tears from her eyes with a corner of her apron. "Lordy, Luke, Sunstar will be so happy. To think after all these years she's goin' to see the baby she thought was dead. I wish I could be there to witness the look on her face. Praise God."
"Now, I can't be positive it's so," Luke pointed out. "But the evidence is strong."
"I would say so," Silas agreed. "Sunstar may have copper-colored skin now like the rest of you after all the years in the sun, and she looks wore out like all of us, but when I looked into that girl's eyes, I saw Sunstar. No, there ain't no doubt about it. She's her young'un all right."
"But Jacie isn't to know anything yet, understood? I want to talk to Sunstar first and prepare her."
Martha said she thought that would be wise, adding, "Oh, she's goin' to be so happy to see both of you. Your people came by here a while back, you know. We gave them something to eat, like always, and Sunstar was tellin' me how glad she'd be when you caught up to them. She surely loves you, Luke, and it's going to be wonderful for all of you to be a family, unless—" She hated to ask but had to know. "Does Jacie want to take her ma and go back wherever she came from? I know you wouldn't like that. Neither would your people."
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