She stood beside Reese, listening to the plop-plop-plop of rocks hitting the water, ready to listen if he wanted to talk.
“She was so young,” he murmured after a time, his voice so low she didn’t know if he was talking to her or to himself. “I loved her my whole life. But I wasn’t really thinking about that when I convinced her to run away with me.” He shook his head. His voice was bitter when he said, “I was thinking about me, about what I wanted, about proving to Wahchinksapa that I was the better man.” He shook his head again, his gaze fixed on something only he could see. “I defied her parents because I thought I knew what was best for her. I was stubborn and proud.” He swallowed hard, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I might as well have put that bullet into her myself.”
“Reese, that’s not true! You were both young and in love. No one could have known things would turn out the way they did.”
“Hantaywee knew.”
“What do you mean?”
“She warned me to wait, but I didn’t listen.”
Kelsey didn’t know what to say. Hantaywee hadn’t mentioned that part to her when she related the story.
“Maybe if she had told me what was going to happen instead of just telling me it would be better to wait until spring…hell, maybe she didn’t know how it would turn out. I probably wouldn’t have listened to her anyway. I was young and invincible…”
He stopped as if suddenly realizing that Kelsey was there. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Can you find your way back?”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“No.”
She didn’t want to leave him there alone, but she didn’t know how to convince him to let her stay. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later, then,” she said.
But he didn’t answer.
Hantaywee was sitting outside when Kelsey returned to the village. The medicine woman looked up, her wise old eyes sad.
“Did you warn Reese not to run away with Chumani?” Kelsey asked, dropping down beside Hantaywee.
“He told you that?”
Kelsey nodded. “Would it have made any difference if he had waited?”
“It is difficult to say. The future is not always as easy to read as the past. Only the Great Spirit knows all. Perhaps waiting would have changed nothing. Perhaps Chumani would have died some other way. Perhaps she would have lived and Tashunka Kangi would have died,” she said with a sigh. “Perhaps they would have grown old together. Who can say?”
“I hate to see him blaming himself,” Kelsey said. “It really wasn’t his fault.” She knew why he felt guilty, but he wasn’t to blame for the actions of those men. Like Hantaywee had said, waiting might not have changed anything. Maybe it had been Chumani’s fate to die young. Maybe, if she hadn’t been killed by those men, she would have been killed some other way, as Hantaywee had mentioned. Kelsey had always believed that when it was your time to go, you’d go. How else did you explain it when a plane crashed and killed everyone on board except for one person? Didn’t people always say it just wasn’t their time to go?
Time, she thought. That was the only answer to the pain and guilt that tormented Reese. She just wished she could speed it up a little.
* * * * *
Reese seemed to be in better spirits in the morning. After breakfast, Hantaywee sent them out to look for pine nuts.
Kelsey strolled along the river, ever aware of Reese beside her. They walked in silence until the village was far behind, but it was a comfortable silence. Kelsey couldn’t seem to stop looking at Reese. Talk about a babe magnet, she thought. He couldn’t be more perfect if she had called Cupid and ordered a man to fit her own specifications.
The thought made her smile. Still, with his tawny skin and long black hair and killer smile, she doubted any woman who had reached the age of puberty would be able to resist him.
She had dreamed of him last night, a dream that had lingered in her mind when she woke. And made her blush whenever she thought of it.
They walked through a grassy meadow until they came to a small pool shaded by tall pines.
It looked like a storybook place, Kelsey thought as she sat down on the grass, the kind of place where the handsome prince rendezvoused with the beautiful princess.
Her handsome prince stretched out beside her, his hands folded underneath his head as he gazed up at the sky. In her mind’s eye, she pictured him on a white charger riding to her rescue. The thought made her smile inwardly.
Plucking a long blade of grass, she twirled it between her thumb and forefinger, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she couldn’t stop staring at him. He was simply beautiful, from the top of his black-thatched head to the soles of his moccasins. She wished her skin was as dark as his. It really wasn’t fair, she thought. She spent a ton of money every year trying to get her skin to be that same smooth shade of brown that his was naturally. She yearned to feel his mouth on hers, the heat of his skin beneath her hands.
Feeling her gaze, he looked over at her. Was he thinking what she was thinking, wanting what she was wanting? When he didn’t move, didn’t speak, she thought maybe she was imagining the tension that hummed between them. But then his hand closed over hers, pulling her down until her upper body lay across his.
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Don’t make more out of this than it is.”
“No,” she murmured. “I won’t.”
He pulled her closer, crushing her breasts against his chest. His eyes grew darker, more intense, as he cupped the back of her head in his hand, drew her head closer and kissed her.
His lips were warm and firm, filled with magic as they played over hers. She ran her tongue across his lower lip, felt his body tighten as his lips parted under her gentle assault. Her tongue dueled with his, sending fingers of fire streaking down to her belly and beyond.
With a groan, he rolled over, tucking her beneath him as he deepened the kiss.
Clutching at his shoulders, she thought she might go up in smoke. Never had a man’s touch inflamed her so quickly, never had a man’s kisses aroused her so thoroughly.
Needing to touch him, she slid one hand under his vest, her fingertips kneading his back, reveling in the powerful muscles that quivered at her touch. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she let her fingers trace the line of ridged flesh that started at the point of one shoulder and ran diagonally across his back.
With a sharp intake of breath, Reese rolled away from her and sat up.
Startled and bereft, she looked up at him, wondering what had just happened. And then she knew. His back, the scars. She had been tracing one of them with her fingertips. “Reese?”
He stood abruptly, his body tense, his hands tightly clenched at his sides.
“I’m sorry.” She sat up, her arms folded under her breasts. “Reese?”
“It’s time to go.”
She wanted to argue with him, to force him to tell her more of what had happened the day Chumani died, to make him see that it wasn’t his fault, but one look at his face, at the pained expression in his eyes, put the idea right out of her mind.
“All right.” Taking a deep breath, she stood and brushed a stray leaf from the hem of her tunic.
Not meeting her gaze, he started back toward the village.
Kelsey followed a few moments later, wishing that she had kept her hands to herself.
He was silent and withdrawn when they returned to Hantaywee’s lodge. The old woman was sitting in the shade, a bit of sewing in her hands, when they returned. She took one look at Reese’s face and wisely held her tongue, at least until Reese went inside and closed the door flap, the Lakota way of saying, keep out.
Hantaywee looked up at Kelsey. “It is not your fault.”
Kelsey looked at the old woman, wondering how she knew what had happened in the meadow.
Hantaywee put her sewing aside, the lines around her mouth and eyes deepening. “I saw that look in his eyes many times when I was caring for him,” she said quietly, “that look of s
hame and guilt and despair. His body has healed. In time, his heart and soul will heal as well.”
Kelsey nodded, hoping the medicine woman was right.
Later that night, after dinner, Kelsey heard drumming. When she asked Reese what it was, he told her, in a voice devoid of emotion, that the Kit Fox Society was having a dance.
“What’s the Kit Fox Society?” she asked.
“It’s a warrior society. There are several. The Kit Foxes, the Tokalas, the Badgers, the Crow Owners, the Brave Hearts.”
“Sort of like social clubs for men?”
Reese nodded. He had once belonged to the Kit Foxes. If he went to the dance, would they welcome him? Or would they turn their backs on him while the drum fell silent?
“Reese?” She tugged on his arm, refusing to let him shut her out.
“Tomorrow we’ll head back to Grant’s Crossing,” he said.
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s for the best.” He couldn’t stay here any longer, an outcast among his own people. “You should get some sleep,” he said. “We’ll be leaving at first light.”
* * * * *
Kelsey lay curled up in her blankets, unable to sleep. She stared at the sprinkling of stars visible through the smoke hole of the tipi and listened to the sounds of the night—the whisper of the wind against the sides of the lodgeskins, the chirrup of a cricket, the stamp of a horse’s hoof. Quiet sounds, peaceful sounds, so different from the sounds of home.
Home. She was anxious to get back to Grant’s Crossing and continue searching for the door to Nana Mary’s house and yet she would be sorry to leave this place. Her grandfather had loved the Old West and now she was here, a part of it. And, if Pete was to be believed, Papa Joe was a part of it, too. It explained how he had known so much of life in the Old West. She wondered where her grandfather was and if he was still alive. The wild west really was wild. Her grandfather could have died or been killed and she would never know.
With a sigh, she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. She had to get some sleep. Reese had said he wanted to leave at dawn. She didn’t know what time it was now, but it felt late and first light came mighty early.
It seemed she had just fallen asleep when a harsh cry rent the stillness of the night. Bolting upright, Kelsey glanced over at Reese, wondering if he was having a nightmare, but Reese was also sitting up, his head canted to the side, listening.
She was about to ask what was wrong when he grabbed his rifle and padded toward the door of the lodge.
Hantaywee had also gained her feet. Kelsey’s eyes widened when she saw the long-bladed skinning knife clutched in the old woman’s hand.
Scrambling to her feet, Kelsey pressed her hand over her rapidly beating heart. Something was definitely wrong.
From outside, a dog began yapping furiously and soon all the camp dogs were howling.
“What is it?” Kelsey whispered. “What’s happening?”
Reese glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know. Stay here.”
Silent as a shadow, he slipped out of the lodge.
Kelsey tiptoed to the doorway and lifted the hide flap so that she could see outside. The sky was just brightening in the east. At first, she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and then she saw three warriors skulking around the lodge next to Hantaywee’s.
She stared at the warriors. They were tall and bronze, bare chested, with roached scalp locks and painted faces. But it was the feathered tomahawks in their hands that sent a chill racing down her spine.
As she watched, she realized they hadn’t come to take lives but to steal the horses tethered in the front of the lodge across the way. Hantaywee had told her that Lakota men tied their favorite war ponies close to their lodges at night and that it was considered a great coup for an enemy warrior to sneak into camp and steal such horses, horses that one of the warriors was even now leading away while the other two warriors threw chunks of meat to the nearest camp dogs in an effort to keep them quiet.
Where was Reese?
The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than he appeared in her line of vision, along with four other Lakota warriors.
The Indian leading the horses dropped their tethers. A spine-tingling war cry rose from his throat as he sprang forward, his tomahawk raised. His companions also took up the cry.
Warriors brandishing weapons erupted from nearby lodges. Dogs who had fallen silent began barking again.
Kelsey stood there, mouth agape, as dozens of armed Lakota warriors surrounded the three intruders.
Women were emerging from their lodges now, some of them armed with knives or clubs, adding their ululating cries to the angry voices of their men.
Justice came swiftly. There was no trial. The Lakota warriors were judge and jury. They found the intruders guilty and extracted their vengeance quickly and with finality.
Kelsey turned away as the horse thieves were beaten to death without mercy.
She knew, by the exultant cries that rang out a short time later, that the intruders were dead.
Stunned by the sudden outburst of violence, Kelsey crept back to her bed and slipped under the covers, one hand pressed over her heart. She had seen violence in movies and tv, she had never seen it happen right in front of her eyes. It was brutal and all too real.
She was drifting, not quite asleep, when a slight noise drew her attention. Through heavy-lidded eyes she saw Hantaywee add a few sticks to the hot coals, followed by what looked like a handful of dried grass.
A shiver slid down Kelsey’s spine when a small blue flame rose in the center of the firepit, followed by a soft whooshing sound. A cloud of blue-gray smoke gathered in the air over the firepit and in the smoke she saw two wolves, one red and one white.
Hantaywee glanced over at Kelsey, then turned back to the fire, chanting softly as she added another handful of sweet grass to the fire. She had prayed to the Great Spirit for a woman to ease Tashunka Kangi’s pain and the white woman, Kel-sey, had appeared. Now Hantaywee watched the two spirit wolves as they circled each other, curious to see what the outcome of their meeting would be.
Twice more Hantaywee added sweet grass to the fire, chanting all the while. She smiled to herself when Kelsey fell asleep, lulled by the soothing notes of her chant.
The two wolves stopped circling each other. Whining softly, the white one rolled onto her back while the red one licked her head. Then, with a joyful bark, the white wolf gained her feet and bounded away. The she-wolf paused a moment to glance over her shoulder, grinned a wolfish grin when, with a low growl, the red wolf gave chase.
Hantaywee smiled as the two wolves ran off together. And then she went back to bed.
Chapter Eleven
It was early afternoon when Kelsey left the tipi. She looked around, wondering where Reese had gone. Was he upset because they hadn’t been able to leave as planned? Or, merciful heavens, had he left without her?
Fighting down a sudden panicky feeling, she went in search of Hantaywee.
She found the old woman behind her lodge, hanging long strips of meat on a wooden rack. Several dogs and puppies paced back and forth a few feet away, no doubt waiting for her to drop a piece.
“Hantaywee, have you seen Reese?”
“He has gone hunting.”
“Again?”
The old woman smiled. “He said he wanted to make sure I had enough meat for winter before he leaves.”
“Oh.” Funny he hadn’t thought of that before, Kelsey mused, and then shrugged. Maybe he had other things on his mind. Maybe he just wasn’t ready to leave.
“There is something else that troubles you,” Hantaywee remarked.
How did the woman always know? Kelsey was dying to ask about the strange vision she had seen before she fell asleep the night before except she wasn’t sure if she had actually seen something, or merely dreamed it. Thinking of it now, she decided she must have imagined the whole thing.
“Do you know when Reese will be back?” Kelsey
asked, changing the subject.
Hantaywee looked past Kelsey and smiled. “Here he comes now.”
Kelsey turned, uncertain of her feelings. The violence she had seen earlier that morning had completely unnerved her. Had it really been necessary to kill the intruders just for trying to steal a couple of horses?
Reese dismounted with fluid ease. A deer and two rabbits were slung across his horse’s withers, evidence that he’d had another successful hunt.
Hantaywee smiled broadly. “Hecheto welo!” she exclaimed. Well done.
Reese nodded as he handed his horse’s reins to Hantaywee. When he looked at Kelsey, his expression was guarded. He took a step toward her. “You all right? You look a little pale.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
He regarded her a moment, his brow furrowed. “You’re upset about what happened this morning.”
“Why did they kill those men? Why didn’t they just let them go?”
“They were trying to steal Wehinahpay’s war ponies.”
“And that was reason enough?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to recall them, but it was too late.
He reached for her, then drew back, as if afraid of being rejected. “It’s like a game, Kelsey, a serious and deadly game. Had the Crow caught one of us stealing their horses, the results would have been the same.”
“Did you…?”
“I didn’t get any licks in, if that’s what’s bothering you.” Was it her imagination, or did he sound disappointed?
She was glad he hadn’t had a hand in the killing, though she didn’t say so. “I guess I’m just not used to seeing people killed right in front of me.”
“The Crow and the Lakota have been enemies as long as anyone can remember.”
“It’s none of my business, really. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Would it make you feel better if you knew they killed two of our sentries?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She glanced hesitantly at the place where, hours earlier, three men had been killed. The ground had been swept clean. There was nothing to show that violence had erupted there only a few hours ago. “I’m just not used to seeing anything like that, at least not firsthand.” She frowned, wondering why she was making such a fuss. At home, she had seen far worse things on TV every night of the week. Drive-by shootings, car bombs in foreign lands that killed dozens of innocent people, snipers that took pot shots at people on the freeway, wars in far-off places that were brought into her living room on the nightly news. But this…it had happened less than ten feet away, right in front of her eyes. She had seen the knives and war clubs descending, heard the meaty sound of those clubs striking living flesh, smelled the blood.
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