CHAPTER
25 
We stayed with the Cheyenne for a month to let Kindle recuperate. Falling Stars Woman took me under her wing and taught me as much as she could about the roots and plants they used as medicine. I begged some paper and a pencil from Pope so I could draw the specimens, and dried what I could to take with me. Pope wrote feverishly in his notebooks from sunup to sundown, and refused to show us what he was writing so adamantly and often that we finally gave up asking. Kindle spent most of the time with the old warriors. He was a fair way on to speaking Cheyenne well enough we wouldn’t need a translator when we met other tribes who used the Algonquian dialect in the future.
The three of us shared a tipi, which wasn’t as uncomfortable a situation as one would have thought. Kindle was too weak to want to do more than to hold me as we fell asleep, and Pope was so distracted by his writing he barely acknowledged us before bed and fell asleep almost instantly. He snored like a foghorn, which kept me and Kindle awake and gave us hours of opportunity to talk. Over the weeks, we had experimented with all manner of distractions and nothing had moved Pope. I suspected he would sleep through a hurricane.
We took to spending mornings by the river, before we went off to our daily routine with the Cheyenne: Kindle hunting and smoking with the men, me digging roots with Aén
hé’ke and learning as much as possible about their healing practices, and Pope sitting by the river, scribbling away.
“What do you think he’s writing?” Kindle whispered, nodding at Pope sitting against a tree nearby.
“I tried to nick it today but he caught me,” I said.
“I have corrupted you completely, haven’t I?”
“Yes. It is all your fault.”
Kindle held my hands between his. “How is your hand?”
I flexed the fingers. “Much better, thanks to you.” Kindle massaged my hand every morning by the river.
“Could you perform surgery?”
“If I had to.”
“Let’s hope you never do.”
“Most importantly, I can draw and write.”
“That’s not the most important thing you do with your hand.” He moved my hand down to his groin.
I raised my eyebrows. “You always have been a quick healer.”
“I’m motivated.”
“Are you?” I rubbed his erection through his breeches.
He inhaled deeply and settled back. I removed my hand and whispered in his ear, “Not in front of Henry.” I pulled out the straight razor and strap and had Kindle hold the thick leather while I sharpened the blade.
“It’s time we got married.”
“How romantic you make it sound.”
“I want it to be true when I call you my wife.”
My hand stopped. “Do you need approval from the church? Because I do not. I feel more connected to you than I have any other person in my life. A ceremony won’t change it.”
“But, in the eyes of the law and society, we are not married. Marriage gives you a level of protection you do not currently have.” He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Do you not want to be married?”
“Of course I do. It’s only, I feel we are.”
He kissed my hand. “As do I. But, I want the church to know it as well. Besides, I feel well enough to travel and we need to put as much distance between us and any other Pinkerton who might be on our trail.”
I took the razor strap from Kindle and placed it on his saddlebags. “I wonder how many she sent after me?”
“I wonder why she sent Reed to kill you instead of take you in.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
Pope spoke up. “She knows you didn’t do it. If she has you come in for trial, the truth will come out.”
Kindle and I stared at each other. “He’s right,” I said. “That means we should go back. They don’t have the evidence. I know they don’t. I can clear my name and we won’t have to worry about being chased for the rest of our lives.”
Kindle pursed his lips and shook his head. “No.”
“No? Why not?”
“You said her family is powerful.”
“Her father is on the state supreme court and her father-in-law is one of the richest men in the country,” Pope said.
“I don’t want to take the chance you’ll lose. I couldn’t bear it. Don’t ask me to. We’ll find somewhere quiet to live. They won’t find us.”
“He’s right, Laura. Don’t take the chance.”
I sighed, letting go of the dream of having a normal life. I picked up the cup of soap and handed it out to Kindle. “Are you ready?”
“Will you shave me next?” Pope asked.
“I will.”
“You will?”
“Don’t act so surprised. You are letting us borrow your tools. It’s the least I can do.”
“I’ll see how well you do on Kindle first.”
Kindle twirled the brush in the cup of soap I held and lathered his face. “I’m offended, Henry,” I said. “You forget I’m a surgeon. I am an expert with knives.”
“She is,” Kindle confirmed. “But, take comfort in the knowledge that if she cuts you, she’s even better with a needle and thread.”
I punched Kindle in the shoulder. He dropped the brush in the mug and I pushed it into his chest. “Hold this while I take a sharp razor to your throat.”
I lifted Kindle’s chin, ran the blade up his neck, and wiped the soapy whiskers on the blanket across his shoulders. “On second thought …” Kindle said.
“Too late.” I shaved another strip.
Pope sat with his back against a tree, one knee propped up so he could write.
“Are you ever going to show us what you’re writing?” Kindle asked.
“I will. When it’s done.”
“Going to have a tough time selling a newspaper article as long as a novel,” I said.
Pope merely smiled. “How long will it take us to get to Independence?”
“A week?” Kindle said.
“Why Independence and not Saint Louis?”
“More choices. Train east or west. Oregon Trail, river.”
“Are you going to tell me where you’re going?” Pope said.
“No,” Kindle and I said in unison.
“Don’t trust me?”
“No,” Kindle said.
“How reassuring,” Pope said.
“I don’t think you would turn us in, Henry,” I said.
“But, when your article publishes, the Pinkertons will descend on you. Best you not know our plans,” Kindle said.
“Good point,” Pope said.
I ran the razor down Kindle’s cheek, revealing the scar I had stitched up at Antietam. I leaned down and kissed his bare cheek, getting soap on the corners of my mouth. “I’ve missed your cheek.”
“You two are nauseating,” Pope said.
I laughed and finished shaving Kindle. When I’d wiped all of the soap off him I held up Pope’s tiny mirror. Kindle turned his head from side to side and rubbed his smooth face. “Much better.”
I traced the stark line between his pale and tanned skin. “You’ll need to wear a kerchief for a while.” Kindle grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him. He lifted his face for a kiss. I gladly obliged.
“Hmm,” I said. “I don’t know. I think I miss the beard.” Kindle swatted me on the bum and I skirted away with a laugh. “Your turn, Henry.”
“Are you going to kiss me like that when you’re done?”
“If you let me read what you’re writing.”
“Excuse me?” Kindle said.
I lathered Henry’s face. “I suppose I should kiss you for slipping Kindle the key to Reed’s irons. That was very quick thinking, Henry.”
“I do have my moments of brilliance,” Henry said.
“I never thanked you,” Kindle said.
“A kiss from Laura will be thanks enough,” Henry said.
“I think a handshake and a sincere thank-you is enough.” Kindle held out his hand and Henry took it.
“You’re welcome,” Henry said.
I finished shaving Henry’s stubble, wiped the blade on the towel across his shoulders, and handed him the closed blade. I took his cheeks in my hands and kissed him on the lips. He was too shocked to reciprocate and the disappointment about that fact became clear on his face. I smiled and said, “Thank you for saving the man I love.”
Henry blushed and stammered out a thank-you.
“Did she kiss you?” Kindle said.
Henry cleared his throat.
“Yes, I did.” I turned to Kindle, my back to Henry. “He has very soft lips,” I said, and winked.
“You aren’t trying to steal my woman are you, Henry?”
“Well, I …”
“If you keep calling me woman, there will be no stealing necessary.”
Aénhé’ke appeared on the top of the riverbank. She waved and climbed down to join us. She carried two rooting sticks. “Time to go to work while you two lazy bums sit around and do nothing,” I said.
Kindle took the cup and brush from Pope and went to the river to clean them. “I’m going hunting with Bob Johnson.”
Pope chuckled. “Bob Johnson. I can’t get over that name.”
“You should come with us, Henry. Never know when you’ll be on your own and need to know how to hunt and field dress your kill.”
“Why do you think I’ve stuck so doggedly to you, Kindle? It isn’t your company, God knows.”
Aénhé’ke stopped next to me and handed me my root digger. “You two stay out of trouble today,” I said.
Kindle stood and flicked the excess water out of the mug. He turned and limped toward us, smiling, looking more like himself than he had since Fort Richardson. I inhaled deeply and let the happiness and contentment wash through me. He came to me and kissed me. “Don’t work too hard,” he said with a sly grin. “Keep an eye out for a long stick. I want to whittle a cane for myself.”
“Whittle? You’re a whittler?”
“Not a good one.” Kindle’s brows furrowed. “Aénhé’ke, are you feeling well?” The Cheyenne stared at Kindle with a confused expression. Kindle rubbed his bare cheeks. “I don’t think she likes it,”
“No,” she said. “It is nice.” She turned and walked up the bank. Kindle watched her go, his brows furrowed much as Aénhé’ke’s had been.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He smiled down at me. “Nothing. Go find me a stick, woman.”
I kissed him on one cheek and gently slapped the other. “Don’t overdo it today, Major.”
He rolled his eyes and I walked up the riverbank to catch up with Aénhé’ke.