Mama used to say the rose was tender, but could withstand the trials of nature, even so. Looking at Jacobi’s expression, I thought he must have been thinking about those roses, remembering how we’d talked about them before on that long ride across the desert when I’d told him about my home.
“Roses are forgiving of the elements,” Mama had said. “And that’s what makes them hardy so they can live on, and come back year after year.”
But I knew that roses reminded Jacobi of another time, another life. They stood as a symbol of renewal, of strength and endurance. Even now, with summer being nearly gone, some of the branches bore new buds, as they made their final appearance before winter set in.
My mouth felt suddenly dry. All the words I’d thought up to say to him had dried up, too. My palms tingled.
Jacobi knelt on the ground and opened his arms to me. My heart jumped in my chest like I was comin’ to life again. There was no need for me to try to say all the things I’d been thinking.
He knew.
I ran to him as fast as I could and his arms closed around me, hugging me like he’d never let me go. Like a father hugs a son. Like a man holds something that’s a great treasure to him.
I didn’t need to ask him if he understood, or tell him I forgave him. The way he held me close to his heart told me he wanted me, just for myself, and not for any guilty feelings he might be trying to make up to me on account of Lisbeth, and what he’d had to do.
I hadn’t realized until that moment what it meant to know a father’s love, and I wondered, as I stumbled into the safe stronghold of his body if he was thinking of his son. My father had frowned upon affection, considering it an ‘unmanly display.’ Surely, the family he came from must have guided that feeling inside him. I did not want to know my grandfather, nor any of the others that may remain. How could I ever give up the life I’d been born to for one I didn’t know, or want to know? Maybe that was the one common thing I owned with my father—the distaste for the sea. I never wanted to go away from my life here, whatever that might be.
For the first time since that bleak day so many weeks past, I felt the true notion that I might weather the storm that had taken everything. I didn’t know my future, but now, I felt ready to face it. There had been no more talk of me being turned over to my northern family. Yet, I had to know what was truly in Jacobi’s mind.
He held me close to him, and the stiffness went out of me. I was not a man. I was a child, still, in spite of everything. Finally, I wept. Jacobi patted me with an awkward hand, as if to let me know I didn’t have to remain strong. I’d not let my guard down since my family had been killed. Now, I was able to know safety again, and in the promise of Jacobi’s embrace, I knew I would always have someone to depend on.
Finally, I felt his grip loosen, and I straightened up and wiped my eyes.
I tried to keep my feelings inside. Crying wasn’t allowed. Papa had always said it was unmanly. But I didn’t believe that now. Because right then, I was pretty sure Jacobi and I were both leaking a little water from our eyes, and there never was a stronger, better man than Jacobi Kane.
I understood right then, it took more of a man to acknowledge his deepest emotions than to push them back under the cover of darkness. It took a man to do the things that had to be done, no matter how hard they were to live with afterward. Sometimes, even the best of men had to take some time to find their way in this world. And, maybe it took some of them longer’n others to do that.
Jacobi and I had both been lost. An’ it wasn’t that we’d forget what had come before, with Red Eagle and the killings and such. But havin’ each other now meant one true thing. We were both strong, but stronger together than alone, rattlin’ around in the big ol’ world. Now, we had us a home.
There was no way either one of us would have thought of letting Red Eagle win.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cheryl was born in Duncan, OK, and grew up in Seminole, OK. She graduated from the University of Oklahoma, and holds a B.A. in English. Cheryl lives with her husband in Oklahoma City, OK, where she has been for the past 29 years. She has two grown children, ages 24 and 27, and a Great Pyrenees "granddog", Embry.
Writing is so much a part of her life that recently, she and long-time friend Livia Reasoner, decided to open a publishing house for western and historical stories.
PRAIRIE ROSE PUBLICATIONS http://prairierosepublications.com furthers the western-themed writing offerings of women.
As if that weren’t enough, there were so many requests for a publishing house for young people interested in the west that they decided to open the unique imprint, PAINTED PONY BOOKS http://paintedponybooks.com This line will be open to all authors, male and female, who have submissions for Middle Grade readers, Young Adult, and New Adult.
The contemporary/futuristic imprint for these age groups is TORNADO ALLEY PUBLICATIONS http://tornadoalleypublications.com, and for adult contemporary/futuristic, check out their imprint FIRE STAR PRESS http://firestarpress.com.
All imprints are open and accepting submissions.
Cheryl's latest novel is a western historical romance,GABRIEL'S LAW. Her upcoming release, THE HALF-BREED'S WOMAN, will be available in February, 2014, through Prairie Rose Publications. To see all of Cheryl’s work, click here: http://www.cherylpiersonbooks.com
You can e-mail her at [email protected]
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