He let go of her hands and reached inside his bag. He took out two vials and set them on the floor beside her.
He gave Jessie a reassuring smile, then scooped out a white, creamy substance, which he gently rubbed into her fingers. Surprisingly, the pain faded more with each gentle rub.
When Hawk Dreamer drew his hands away from Jessie’s and returned the vials to the bag, she gazed in wonder at Thunder Horse.
He smiled and nodded at her, then looked at Hawk Dreamer, who had stood and was already walking toward the entrance flap. No words were exchanged between the chief and the shaman, for it was obvious to Jessie that words were not needed between these two. There seemed a connection between them that spoke of friendship, trust, and love.
Lone Wing came and knelt down beside Jessie as she gazed in wonder at her fingers and hands, which were still shiny from the cream.
“Do they feel better?” Lone Wing asked, his eyes wide as he looked into Jessie’s.
“Much,” Jessie said, smiling at Lone Wing. “But I think I should still wear the gloves, don’t you?”
She purposely brought him into the decision, for he seemed genuinely interested in her welfare.
“Do they make your hands feel better?” Lone Wing asked, his eyes studying the gloves as she slid them onto her hands.
“Usually,” she murmured.
“Then I would wear them if I were you,” Lone Wing said, smiling broadly as she looked at him.
“Lone Wing, go to my ahte’s lodge,” Thunder Horse said, bending down on a knee beside his nephew. “If my ahte is awake, tell him I will come to his lodge soon and with me will be a friend. But do not alert him yet as to who. Especially do not tell him that my friend is a white woman.”
Lone Wing nodded, gave Jessie another winsome smile, then leaped to his feet and ran from the tepee.
But Jessie wasn’t smiling now. She had heard what Thunder Horse had said to Lone Wing.
She was going to be taken to Thunder Horse’s father’s lodge and be introduced to him. If his father didn’t approve of her being in their camp, would Thunder Horse have no choice but to send her away?
Yet . . . Thunder Horse was the chief. He surely had the final word in his village.
She felt reassured as Thunder Horse took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. He took the blanket from her shoulders and laid it aside, then placed his hands at her waist and brought her closer to him. Their eyes met.
“My father is gravely ill,” he said thickly. “If not for his failing health, and his relationship with the white chief in Washington, all of my people would even now be housed on the reservation.”
He went on to explain the situation to her, how his father would be buried among the other departed chiefs in the sacred cave, and then how the rest of his people would go on to the reservation, where the others awaited them.
Hearing that he would be moving from this area when his father died, Jessie realized how fortunate she was to have made Thunder Horse’s acquaintance before he left. How alone she would have felt without him.
Strange how she now felt as though she would never be alone again, even though she knew he would ultimately say that she couldn’t stay with him forever. Once his father died, his people would begin their solemn journey to the reservation.
“You can stay with me and my people at our village as long as you wish,” Thunder Horse said, stunning Jessie, for it was as though he had read her mind!
“If you like, you can even go with us to the reservation in the Dakotas when the time comes,” Thunder Horse said, searching her eyes. “It is a place totally separate from the white community. No one will interfere if you wish to stay there. And the reservation is far from Tombstone—so far that Reginald Vineyard will never know that you have gone there with me and my people. You will be safe from him there.”
He searched her eyes, then said, “Will you go with me and my people to the reservation? I would not like to leave you behind, not knowing what might happen to you without my protection.”
She was stunned that he had actually asked her to go with him, that he cared enough to see himself as her protector. With his hands still at her waist and their bodies only a few inches apart, Jessie was overwhelmed by her feelings for him. For a moment she was at a loss for words.
Then, afraid she was misinterpreting his feelings toward her, she cleared her throat uneasily and eased herself from his hands.
“Perhaps I should return to Kansas City,” she murmured, even knowing as she said it that she had no money to travel anywhere.
And again she thought of Jade and Lee-Lee. Whatever she decided to do for herself, she wished she could include the two Chinese women.
But for now, she must do what was best for her child, to secure him or her a decent future.
Wondering what he might have said to make her draw away from his hands and turn down his suggestion to join him and his people, Thunder Horse said nothing for a moment. Instead, he gazed deeply into Jessie’s eyes, trying to understand the meaning behind her words.
Then he said, “Is there a man in this place called Kansas City awaiting your arrival, someone who will see to your welfare?”
Feeling more certain by the minute that he truly did care for her, and was honestly worried about her welfare, Jessie lowered her eyes. She was wishing that she hadn’t even mentioned Kansas City, for she wanted nothing more than to stay with Thunder Horse.
“No, no man is waiting for me there,” she murmured. “The man I was married to in Kansas City is . . . dead.”
“You were married?” Thunder Horse said, placing a gentle hand under her chin and lifting it so that her eyes met his. “The man . . . is dead?”
“Yes. He was killed in a most horrible way,” she said, her voice breaking. Then she explained at length about how her husband had died and why she had come to Tombstone to live with her only remaining relative, her cousin.
She shuddered. “That name Tombstone alone should have warned me what I would find there,” she said. “Meanness . . . greed . . . and . . .”
“And?” he said, again searching her eyes.
She told him about Jade and Lee-Lee and the danger they were in, and from whom . . . the same man she had fled.
The mention of Lee-Lee made Thunder Horse’s eyes widen. “I already know about the one called Lee-Lee,” he said. “Lone Wing has seen and talked with her and knows that she is a prisoner of Reginald Vineyard, just as you would have been if you had stayed with him.”
“Lee-Lee’s mother, Jade, works for my cousin. She fears him dreadfully,” Jessie said, shuddering. “I hated leaving Jade behind, but I didn’t know if I would really be able to escape my cousin.”
“Chieftain uncle, your father is awake and awaits your arrival,” Lone Wing said as he held the entrance flap aside.
“Pila-maye, thank you, Lone Wing,” Thunder Horse said, stepping away from Jessie and going to the entrance flap. “You can go and tell my sister that we will soon arrive.”
Lone Wing gave Jessie a smile, nodded at Thunder Horse, then was gone again.
“He is a good nephew,” Thunder Horse said, smiling at Jessie as he held aside the flap for her. “Hiya-wo, come. My ahte awaits our arrival.”
Jessie could not help being a little afraid of meeting the ailing, elderly man. If he didn’t approve of her, would he say so? Or would he keep his thoughts to himself?
She left the tepee with Thunder Horse and tried to avoid eye contact with the Sioux men and women as they stopped what they were doing to stare at her. If they knew she was going to stay among them, she wondered what they might do or say.
For the moment, that was not her concern. She must concentrate on meeting Thunder Horse’s father.
“You mentioned a sister to Lone Wing,” Jessie said as she gazed up at Thunder Horse.
“She is Lone Wing’s mother. She sits with my father most times,” he said tightly. “When she is not there, she prepares food for my father, herself, Lone Win
g, and me.”
“She sounds like a wonderful, caring person,” Jessie replied, her heart pounding when she saw how close they were to a large tepee that sat among other smaller ones. She knew it had to be his father’s lodge.
“Like you, she is a widow, and yes, she is a wonderful, caring person,” Thunder Horse said as he stopped just outside the large tepee. “This is my father’s lodge. Come inside with me.”
She swallowed hard, then went with him.
A warm fire burned in the lodge’s firepit. On the far side lay an elderly man on pelts and blankets, his gray hair surrounding his head on the pelts like a halo. At this moment his eyes were closed, his hands lying folded on his stomach, which was covered by a blanket.
Then she became aware of the beautiful Indian woman who sat on one side of the elderly man. When she caught sight of Jessie, she broke into a smile.
Introductions were made, and just as Jessie sat down on the other side of the fire, opposite Sweet Willow, the elderly Indian’s eyes slowly opened.
He gazed at her for a long time, then looked over at Thunder Horse, who now sat down beside Jessie.
Jessie was only scarcely aware that Lone Wing had entered the tepee and now stood behind her and Thunder Horse.
“Why is she here?” White Horse asked as he frowned at Thunder Horse.
Thunder Horse looked over his shoulder at Lone Wing and questioned him with his eyes.
Lone Wing shrugged slightly, as if to say that he had told White Horse about Thunder Horse bringing a visitor, but it seemed that once again the elderly man’s memory had failed him.
“Ahte, this is Jessie,” Thunder Horse murmured, then explained why she was in their village.
“My micinksi, my son, the presence of whites in our village can only mean trouble, especially if that white person is a mitawin,” White Horse said gruffly. “My son, send . . . her . . . away!”
Thunder Horse had never disobeyed his father and hated to now, when he was so ill and near death, but he could not agree with him.
He most certainly could not . . . would not . . . send Jessie away.
She was alone in the world, and something made him recall those times she had stood with her hands across her belly, as women do when they unconsciously protect the child inside their womb.
Thunder Horse looked over his shoulder at Lone Wing again. “Lone Wing, take Jessie outside,” he said firmly.
Lone Wing reached a hand out for Jessie, which she took. She rose to her feet and gave Thunder Horse one last look, then left the tepee to stand just outside the entranceway while Thunder Horse talked with his father.
She was afraid now, afraid that Thunder Horse might not have any choice but to do as his father told him. Then where would she go?
Thunder Horse spoke gently to his father as Sweet Willow sat and bathed White Horse’s brow. Thunder Horse explained how alone Jessie was and that he would not allow trouble to come to their village. He had enough sentries posted to protect their people.
He also explained that he believed she was with child. Who could send a pregnant woman away to fend for herself?
And if that man Reginald found her, Thunder Horse even feared for her life.
His father, whose heart was kind, and who was a wicasa-iyotanyapi, a man of honor, sighed deeply. “She can stay,” he said, his voice drawn. “Though I would prefer that she go on her way, for she truly has no place among the Sioux.”
He smiled at Thunder Horse. “But, ho, she can stay if that is what you want, my son,” he said softly.
Thunder Horse reached out, bent over his father, and hugged him. “Pila-maye, thank you, for your understanding,” he said softly. He thought about what his father had said about Jessie having no place among their Sioux people.
Thunder Horse knew just how wrong that was, for he had feelings for her that he was finding hard to fight. He would never forget how it felt to hold her in his arms . . . the sweetness of it.
He smiled at his sister, then rose and went outside, where Jessie still stood with Lone Wing.
When she looked up at him, with a question in her eyes, he smiled and reassured her quickly about the outcome of that short meeting with his father.
“It is alright for you to stay,” he said, smiling. “I will have a place prepared for you. In the meantime, you can join me and my nephew in my lodge. It is time for Lone Wing’s lessons today.”
“Lessons?” Jessie said, raising an eyebrow. “Will . . . will I be in the way?”
“Never,” Thunder Horse and Lone Wing said almost in the same breath.
She smiled from one to the other, then walked proudly with them back to Thunder Horse’s lodge. On the way, she noticed that the people no longer stopped or stared at her.
She could only conclude that they had seen her enter White Horse’s lodge and leave it smiling, which had to mean that Thunder Horse’s father had welcomed her into their village.
She went inside Thunder Horse’s tepee with him and Lone Wing and sat down on a blanket with them, amazed at how Lone Wing’s behavior became more serious and adult as he and Thunder Horse discussed his lessons.
Lone Wing suddenly turned to Jessie. “I am studying to be our people’s Historian,” he blurted out, then explained what that meant.
She hung on his every word, amazed that he knew so much about his people’s history. She was fascinated by their customs and was beginning to want to be a part of them.
Yes, she sorely wanted to stay with these people, with Thunder Horse and Lone Wing forever.
She gazed at Thunder Horse and remembered his invitation to stay with him. Soon she would tell him that she truly wanted to . . . that she would!
But . . . then what about her child? Would he still want Jessie . . . if . . . he knew about the child?
Chapter Seventeen
Learning everything she could about Thunder Horse, his people, and his family, Jessie sat across the fire from Lone Wing, impressed by how devoted he was not only to his uncle, but also to his lessons.
Lone Wing’s mother had brought them food, all of which had been eaten. Jessie was feeling comfortably full as she and Lone Wing listened to his uncle telling a myth. Lone Wing would learn it and repeat the myth back to his uncle in a few days.
This was one of many ways he was preparing to become his people’s Historian. When the “Old One” who was presently their Historian passed on to the other world or was no longer able to think clearly enough to record things, Lone Wing would take his place. Lone Wing had been chosen, not because he was their chief’s nephew, but because he had aspired to be the Historian from the time he was old enough to realize the importance of this role.
He had proven his worth to his people already, yet he continued to expand upon his knowledge so that he would be the best Historian his people had ever known!
“Listen well, nephew, to the myth that I am about to tell you,” Thunder Horse said. “You know that even at your young age you could assume the task of preserving and transmitting the legends of our ancestors and our race.”
Thunder Horse was very aware that Jessie was sitting across the fire from him, and that she was watching him closely.
He had looked up at her from time to time, returning her smile when she smiled at him, then had gone back to his nephew’s lesson. This was the time of day when Lone Wing came to him for instruction. It would not change because someone new sat in Thunder Horse’s lodge.
He knew that Jessie was interested in what he did and said, for she was attentive to all of it. That was good, for if he had any control over her decision at all, she would never return to her world. She would become part of his.
“Jessie, even at Lone Wing’s young age, he could become our Historian,” Thunder Horse said, wanting to make certain that she understood why his nephew’s lessons were so important. “Almost every evening in my people’s lodges where there are children, a myth or a true story of some great deed, is narrated by parents or grandparents. The children listen wi
th parted lips and glistening eyes, for they all want to be able to tell the same tales to their own children in the future.”
He smiled at Lone Wing and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But only one of those braves has been singled out to know all of those myths and stories,” he said proudly. “My nephew is a keen listener and has a good memory. The stories and myths are easily mastered by him. The teachings that began when he was old enough to realize their importance enlightened his mind and stimulated his ambition. His conception of his own future became a vivid and irresistible force. Whatever there was for my nephew to learn, he would learn.”
“I hope I’m not a distraction,” Jessie said, looking slowly from Thunder Horse to Lone Wing. “Will I be?”
“No, never,” Thunder Horse said quickly. “You, too, will learn from the myth that I will tell today. You do want to learn, do you not?”
Jessie’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, I do, so very much,” she said softly. “I want to know everything that I can about you and your people, since . . . I . . . will be living here among you.”
Thunder Horse’s heart skipped a beat, for he could not help hoping, from the way she said she would be living among his people, that she wanted to be there forever!
Or did she mean that she needed to understand his people to make it easier for her during the time she would be there . . . until she found somewhere else to go, or someone to care for her?
He looked quickly away from her and tried to focus on the lessons instead of thinking too much about Jessie.
“There once was a young brave who was called by the name Proud Boy,” Thunder Horse began, forcing his eyes to see only his nephew, not the woman. “He wandered along many trails. One day, when he came to a lonesome place beside a river, he sat for a long time and listened and heard things.”
“What kind of things?” Lone Wing asked, not for the sake of interruption, but in order to understand today’s myth fully.
“All things,” Thunder Horse said, slowly nodding.
“Tell me more,” Lone Wing urged, leaning forward, his eyes wide as he became totally involved in the story.
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