Magpie did not come to his camp that morning. He could not deny the feeling of disappointment that resulted. Still, why should he have expected her? She knew he was leaving to go back to his ranch in the mountains. Too bad, he should have said his good-byes to her the day before. He was afraid he was going to miss her. But he’d soon get over it, he told himself as he tightened the girth strap one more time before stepping up into the saddle. Satisfied that he was done with Camp Supply for good, he turned the Appaloosa’s head to the north and urged him forward.
He was passing the sergeant major’s tent when the flap was suddenly thrown back and Max stepped out. On his heels was Cora and she called out in mock indignation, “Did you think you were going to just ride out without saying good-bye to your friends?”
Jason grinned and reined up before them. “Why, Cora, I figured you would still be asleep.”
“No such thing, Jason Coles. Get down off that horse and give me a proper hug.”
“I reckon you heard we’ll be going to Lincoln,” Max said.
“Yeah, I heard. I don’t suppose you’ll shed too many tears over leaving this place.”
Max laughed. “I reckon not.”
He spent a few minutes more saying good-bye to Max and Cora and then he was back in the saddle and moving off to the north at a brisk pace, anxious to get the dust of Camp Supply behind him. Still he could not shake a feeling of loneliness, even when the sun caught the tips of the far hills and bathed them in a golden wash, a sight that normally cheered him. He rode on for a quarter of an hour, something worrying in his mind. Finally, without stopping, he swung the Appaloosa’s head sharply around to the west and headed toward the Cheyenne reservation.
It was still early when he reined up in front of Magpie’s uncle’s tipi. She was sitting outside before the fire, holding the baby, dressed in a buckskin dress and leggings—like she was ready to travel, he thought. He glanced over at her horse, hobbled beside the tipi. It was packed with all her belongings.
He smiled. “Looks like you’re going on a trip.”
She got to her feet, a look of impatience fixed on her face. “I am going on a trip,” she said and went over to untie her horse.
She fixed him with a stern look. “You know where I’m going, Jason Coles. I’m going with you.”
“Damn!” he chuckled. “I don’t remember asking. You sound mighty damn sure of yourself.”
She was struggling hard to maintain the no-nonsense facade she had so carefully constructed but his smile was infectious and she could not avoid the embarrassed grin that pushed the corners of her mouth up. “Enough talk! Time to go.” She handed him the baby while she jumped up on her horse. Reaching for the infant again, she could not avoid his eyes. They were laughing at her. “You dumb man. If I wait for you to ask me, I’d be an old woman.”
They rode out of the reservation toward the hills. As they passed the trading post, he paused for a brief moment to look at the grotesque monument atop a lone pole near the hitching post. As he stared at it, the wind caught in a hollow of the already badly decomposed head, turning it slightly on the pole so that the vacant eye sockets came to rest on Jason. He felt a chill run the length of his spine. It was not fear. Jason didn’t fear anything that was dead. It went deeper than that. Stone Hand had touched Jason’s soul with a cold finger.
He was unaware that he was still staring at the disembodied head until Magpie touched his arm lightly. “All right,” he said, nudging his horse with his heels. “Let’s go. I thought we’d let the little one say good-bye to his daddy.” Magpie replied something but she spoke too softly for him to hear. “What did you say?”
“I said, not Stone Hand’s baby,” she said, this time in her elementary English. “Baby white baby.”
He drew back sharply on the reins, pulling his horse up short. “What?” He moved over beside her and pulled the blanket away from the infant’s face. He stared hard at the child for really the first time ever. “Well, I’ll be damned…” He could not suppress a laugh. “After all this we went through, it ain’t even Stone Hand’s son.” Then he realized the significance of Magpie’s startling report. “So you and me are going off to Colorado territory with John Welch’s son.”
She nodded. The look on her face told him that she was chagrined that it took him so long to figure it out. “Our baby now.”
He smiled at her. “Our baby now,” he repeated. “It’s a start,” he added and urged the Appaloosa forward. After a few minutes, he looked back again and said, “We’ve got to find you a new name. You’re too damned pretty to be called Magpie.”
Her face was aglow. “How about Jason Coles’ wife?”
“That ain’t bad but maybe we can come up with something shorter.”