He studied her face for a moment then a smile spread over his face. He winked then spurred his horse forward to join the men.
Shelby allowed her smile to fade. Life in Khali-dar was more different than she could have ever imagined. Would she ever find a place where she fit into this culture and could be the person Hakim needed her to be? Or would she lose herself trying?
They rode for nearly half an hour. Shelby was grateful for her light clothing. The silk moved, keeping her cool even though beads of sweat rolled down her back. But she wasn’t complaining.
Although the entire landscape was the same golden color, the desert didn’t lack interesting details. Shelby marveled at the patterns in the sand. The wind blew it into ridges like ripples in water. Some of the dunes hung over at the top like tidal waves where the sand had slid down beneath.
Riding alone gave her a chance to think. She watched Hakim talking and laughing with the other men. Occasionally he would catch her gaze and smile. She glanced back at the group of women chatting amongst themselves. This is how life is here. Men and women’s worlds were separate, and Shelby was an outsider to both. Could she ever be happy in Khali-dar?
One of the falcon handlers urged his horse forward to catch up with Hakim. He said something, pointing at the sky, and the men stopped.
The women watched, still talking and giggling.
Shelby rode a little closer before reining in Al-qamar and leaning forward in the saddle.
Hakim flexed his fingers in the thick glove before the handler placed the bird on it. He muttered in a soft voice, stroking the bird’s feathers and then removed the leather hood from the bird’s eyes.
Laiqa looked around, stretching out her wings and tail feathers.
Hakim motioned for Shelby to ride closer. “Are you ready?” His expression lit up in an excited smile. “She will fly with her back to the sun in order to make herself invisible to her prey.” He held out his gloved hand. “Hup, hup,” he said loudly.
The falcon stretched out her wings and lifted off. She circled, gliding close a few times before gaining real altitude.
The handler pointed, speaking in an urgent tone.
Hakim yelled something in Arabic, and then urged his horse into a gallop in the direction the bird had flown.
Nasir and the other men were right behind him.
Al-qamar strained to follow them, but Shelby kept a tight hold on the reins.
The women maintained their leisurely pace as they followed the cloud of dust left behind by the hunters.
Shelby could hear the men calling to one another as they galloped after the bird. She looked back at the women.
A few appeared to be admiring their friends’ shoes, others looked completely bored, and one was even texting on her phone.
Finally, Shelby couldn’t stand it anymore. She leaned forward in the saddle and urged Al-qamar into a gallop. In the distance, she saw the men point at the sky, and Shelby followed their line of sight, finally spotting Laiqa soaring high above.
Without warning, the falcon dove toward a larger bird Shelby hadn’t even noticed, picking up speed until the falcon hit it like a bullet. The impact sent out a cloud of feathers. Laiqa glided to the ground, a limp mass of feathers in her talons. Shelby approached the men where they had stopped but rode slowly forward.
Hakim had already dismounted and hurried toward where Laiqa perched on top of the other bird tearing chunks of skin and feathers out of the carcass with her beak. He knelt near her and coaxed the falcon away from her kill, offering her a piece of meat. His patience paid off as Laiqa hopped onto his glove and tore into whatever Hakim had given her. He slipped away the dead bird and gave it to the handler.
Some of the men darted strange glances at Shelby. But Hakim, intent on the falcon had not seen her yet.
Should she return to join the women? Shelby looked back the way they had come and saw the group, a little over two hundred yards away, approaching at the same steady pace. She turned Al-qamar toward them, but twisted around when she heard Hakim’s voice behind her.
“Did you enjoy hunting, Shelby Jo?” Hakim reined in his horse to ride next to her.
He didn’t look angry, but she still felt a sickening guilt roll through her stomach at the idea that she had embarrassed him. “I’m sorry. I know I should have stayed with the other women. They were just going so slow, and I wanted to see—”
Hakim reached to place his hand on hers. “Do not apologize. I should have known the excitement would be too much for you to resist.” His lips twitched.
“I hope I didn’t embarrass you in front of the other guys.”
“I imagine they were most likely impressed by your horsemanship.” His smile turned serious. “I know our customs seem strange. Especially for an independent western woman.” He glanced toward the approaching group. “I want you to be happy here, more than anything.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss on her fingers.
His affection should have dispelled her worry, but a tension still lingered, and the air between them felt heavy. “What kind of bird is that?” Shelby hoped to change the mood with a lighter topic. “It sort of looks like a long-legged, skinny chicken.”
He studied her expression for a moment before answering. “It is called an Arabian Bustard. We will deliver it to the Bedouin tonight. They are always grateful for extra meat.”
The hunt was repeated, this time with Hakim’s friend’s bird.
Shelby watched from a distance, although the sight of racing horses and the sounds of excitement pulled at her sense of adventure, and she held herself tightly to resist the urge to gallop, whooping across the desert. She didn’t ride with the women or the men, but remained somewhere in between, which she thought was fitting. The sun sank lower in the sky, and Shelby’s stomach growled. She hoped they were close to their destination.
They rode for another half hour, and the shadows of the dunes stretched. The sunset colored the sand a deep red-gold.
Hakim joined her and the uncomfortable silence hung like a shadow between them. “Are you upset, Shelby Jo?”
“No. I was just thinking about how much fun my dad and Chet would have chasing these birds over the dunes.”
“You miss your family.”
Shelby nodded, swallowing over a lump in her throat.
“I am sorry.”
Again Shelby nodded, and they rode in silence for several minutes.
Hakim leaned forward and patted his horse. “We are nearly to the camp. Are you tired?”
“No.” She turned toward him and studied his expression. The planes of his face were shadowed by the setting sun, and the cloth from his head wrap blew in the wind, making him look like the hero in an adventure movie. Shelby’s heart skipped at the sight. Lines pulled at the corners of his mouth and eyes and she realized he was worried about her. “I loved today, Hakim. I loved riding with you and seeing the desert and the birds hunt. Even if we didn’t spend every second together. Please don’t be worried about me.”
“I will always worry about you, Shelby Jo.”
They climbed another rise, and a small camp spread out below them. The cluster of tents was surrounded by a woven fence. If they had ridden a hundred yards to either side, they would have missed it among the dunes. The gates stood open, and the party dismounted before Hakim led them in.
A group of men approached and led away their horses.
When she was faced with a man stepping up to take Al-qamar, Shelby held onto the reins. “Hakim, will you ask him if I can take care of Al-qamar myself?”
The man listened, nodded, and indicated for Shelby to follow him toward a small fenced-in corral.
“I will come find you after I speak to the tribal Elder,” Hakim said.
Shelby removed Al-qamar’s saddle and bridle. While the mare drank, Shelby rubbed her down with an old brush she found. After making sure Al-qamar had something to eat, she climbed out of the corral and rested her forearms on the fence to watch the horses in the dwindling li
ght.
“Shelby Walker.”
Shelby turned to see the Sheik approaching her with another man.
“As-salaamu ‘alaykum,” she said as she bowed to Sheik Rashid.
“May I please introduce Malik bin Bazyli al Fattah Al Nuaim? He is the Elder of the Al Nuaim tribe.”
“Ahlan wa sahlan,” she said.
“Ahlan wa sahlan, Shelby Walker,” the Elder replied. He spoke her name with a thick accent. He turned and spoke to the Sheik in rapid Arabic.
“Elder Malik would like me to tell you Al-qamar is very special to his tribe, and he is pleased to see you treating her so well.”
“Shukran,” Shelby thanked him.
The Elder stepped closer to the fence, and Al-qamar trotted over, nuzzling him as he spoke.
Sheik Rashid continued, “It is believed by the Bedouin that sharing a tent with an Arabian horse guarantees no evil spirit will enter. They have a deep love for their animals.”
The Elder spoke again and Sheik Rashid translated. “He said Al-qamar is happy. She is grateful for the care you give her.”
Shelby couldn’t tell what the Sheik was thinking. Was the Elder serious? Was he some kind of horse whisperer, or was this one of the Sheik’s little tests? She chose her words carefully. “Please tell him I am thankful for the opportunity to spend time with such a remarkable animal, and Al-qamar is special to me, too.”
After listening to the Sheik, the Elder gave Shelby an appraising look and a smile. He seemed as if he were about to say more when Hakim arrived.
Hakim bowed to his father and to the Elder. Then Hakim and Elder Malik bent toward each other and briefly touched noses.
Shelby gave a start. What was that? She glanced at the Sheik to see his reaction, but he didn’t act as if anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Elder Malik and Hakim spoke together for a few minutes, and Shelby heard her name and Al-qamar’s.
“What the heck was that nose bump thing you did?” Shelby murmured to Hakim as they followed the two leaders toward the tents.
“It is a traditional greeting between men. An exchange of breath,” he explained.
“Oh,” said Shelby, still feeling a little awkward. “I thought you guys were going to kiss.”
Hakim chuckled, and his hand found hers in the dark. He leaned close and whispered, “I plan to save my kisses for you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lanterns came to life throughout the camp, illuminating circles of light in the near pitch-blackness as Shelby and Hakim walked between the tents. Each structure was made of brightly colored woolen fabric, and was constructed around one or two wooden poles supporting the ceiling and the sides. Ropes ran from the corners attaching them to stakes driven into the sand. Most of the tents were closed and dark.
Shelby shivered and rubbed her arms, surprised by how fast the temperature had dropped as soon as the sun went down.
At the end of the common area, a large tent shone, lit with more lanterns that hung from the ceiling and sat on the tables. Delicious smells and the sounds of voices and laughter drifted toward them. As they got closer, Shelby saw thick woolen rugs covered the ground under the tent. Cushions were spread haphazardly on the rugs around short tables. The room looked and smelled welcoming when she entered.
A young girl bowed to Hakim and offered them a drink.
“Shukran,” Shelby thanked her. She took a small sip and tasted fruit juice. The beverage was cold and sweet, and delicious.
“Sharab.” Hakim gestured to her cup. “Given as a welcome to refresh weary travelers.”
Shelby gazed around as Hakim led her to a seat. Ghaniyah and her friends had already arrived, and she looked fantastic as usual. Apparently, she had found time to freshen up after the sweaty horse-ride. Another face was familiar, and Shelby tried to remember where she knew him from. She finally recognized him as the man who’d delivered Al-qamar to the palace. The man whose face drooped on one side. What was his name—Usman?
For a moment, she attempted to catch his eye, but when she remembered how he had avoided her gaze when they’d met before, she gave up.
At the far end of the tent, Shelby sat next to Hakim at Elder Malik’s table. In the light, the Elder looked much older than the Sheik. He wore a white dishdasha and, on his head, a checkered kehfiya. His dark and wrinkled skin spoke of someone who spent a lot of time in the sun. Although his eyes seemed sunken and heavily lidded, Shelby saw a lively spark in them.
His gaze darted around as he watched the people in the room.
Hakim introduced the others at the table as the Elder’s wife and older children.
Shelby shifted on the floor, experimenting with different positions, and finally sat cross-legged.
Many of the men lounged, resting on cushions while they ate, but the women all sat straight.
Hakim sat with his legs crossed, leaning on his hand which rested on the ground slightly behind Shelby. As he translated the conversation at the table, he leaned close, his breath flowing warm on her cheek.
Shelby shivered and reminded herself more than once to sit straight, instead of resting against him. Dinner on the floor felt so comfortable and intimate.
Young girls served the meal in steaming bowls. The food was delicious and simple. Dancers entertained them, their beautiful costumes and jangling jewelry shining in the lantern light.
Shelby felt their genuine hospitality as Elder Malik and his wife spoke in halting English. With Hakim translating, they asked her about her family and her home. Elder Malik seemed especially interested when she told him about her father’s cattle ranch. He asked questions about the weather in Colorado, how it affected the animals, and how her father kept track of such a large herd.
“Well, we brand the calves when they are new. That is how a rancher like my dad identifies his animals if they wander. Hakim can tell you about that. He was there this year for branding.”
Hakim translated using hand gestures and speaking in an excited voice.
The Sheik pulled back, his eyes growing wide.
Elder Malik threw back his head as he laughed. “You will make Prince Hakim to be a cowboy, Miss Walker.”
Shelby smiled at the Elder and risked a glance at the Sheik, expecting a scowl of contempt, but his expression was contemplative as he studied her. How she wished she knew what that man was thinking. Shelby avoided looking at Ghaniyah, although she still felt her glares boring into her throughout dinner.
The meal ended and the Elder stood and spoke to the group. “My friends, I am pleased to have your company here, in my home. It is good to strengthen the bonds between our people. Although our lives are very different, when we meet, we discover we are very much alike. We all share a love for this land, and our cooperation will make Khali-dar strong. It is essential to strengthen ties with our old allies, as well as make new friends.” As he said this, his gaze lit on Shelby, and he gave her a fatherly smile.
Hakim squeezed her hand under the table as he translated the Elder’s words. “It seems you have won the approval of the Elder,” he whispered.
Shelby smiled and inclined her head in a small bow to Elder Malik.
Hakim turned. “Shelby, traditionally after dinner, men and women separate for a short time. Jawahir will take you to the women’s tent.” He raised a hand to indicate one of the Elder’s daughters.
The young woman smiled and gave a small bow.
“Separate? Why?” Not this again.
“It is simply a tradition.” The corner of Hakim’s mouth twitched in a teasing smile, and he bumped her with his arm. “And we have manly topics to discuss.”
The women began to stand, and Shelby chewed on her lip. She was really starting to hate the “women’s role” thing going on here.
Hakim raised his brows and nodded his encouragement.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a few.” Shelby followed Jawahir and the other women to a nearby tent.
One of the women held aside the blanket covering the doo
rway for Shelby to step through.
Shelby found this tent to be a smaller version of the one they had just left. Close to twenty women sat or stood throughout the space, and Shelby noticed they stayed separated in two distinct groups: the Bedouin women and the city women. Shelby sat next to Jawahir.
“Shelby Walker, it’s good to see you where you belong, among the farmers’ daughters.”
Shelby turned to see Ghaniyah standing behind her.
“Don’t worry, they won’t judge you.” Her cold voice pierced the warmth of the tent. “They prefer their own kind—filthy, poor girls who smell like horses. I’m sure they envy your position as a diversion for a rich man.”
The Bedouin women remained silent, keeping their heads lowered. Some of their faces were flushed.
Why weren’t they saying anything? Did they understand Ghaniyah?
The women sat with shoulders hunched, their eyes shifting. They avoided Ghaniyah’s gaze and some fiddled with their hands to appear busy, while others clenched their fists.
Shelby stood and took a deep breath to get herself under control. Yelling would solve nothing. “Ghaniyah, you’re right. I do belong here. I’m proud to sit with these women. How dare you insult them this way? You’re their guest.” She tried to speak calmly, though her voice trembled with rage. “That’s the problem with people like you. You believe having a big house and a rich daddy makes you better than everybody else. The Sheik listens to Elder Malik and considers him an important ally. How would he react if he heard that you thought a member of a respected family in his kingdom wasn’t good enough? Prince Hakim would be disappointed and ashamed to hear how you treated these people. He’d never want a partner who acts so disrespectful.”
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