Millie hadn’t gained any headway in catching up with Seth when someone grabbed her arm. She attempted to break loose, but the hold was too strong and brought her to an abrupt stop.
“It’s not for you to become involved in, dear,” Ilene Ketchum said. “Come back to the house.”
Millie twisted, finding Seth among a swarm of men near the trading post. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know for sure,” the woman said, forcing her to turn about. “But I believe it’s a skirmish between two Indian boys.”
Twisting to keep her eyes on the crowd, her heart fluttering, Millie asked, “Was Wind one of them?”
“The men will take care of it.”
“But—”
“Su-Ma and Ku-Ma-Quai are here with your husband’s lunch.” Ilene pointed out the two women standing on the porch. “That is what you need to be concerned about. As Major Parker’s wife, taking care of him should always be your first thought.”
Millie stumbled, both physically and mentally, but caught herself and walked back to the house. She knew nothing about being a wife. Her gaze once again went to the crowd taking her husband, which included several Indian men.
Ilene pulled her across the threshold and shut the door. “Just put it in the kitchen, ladies. I’ll help Mrs. Parker lay it out,” she instructed.
Once again Millie faltered. The maidens had set the table back at the cabin, and she’d never questioned it. Frowning, she followed the others into the house and kitchen.
“We won’t need those.” Ilene gestured toward the tin plates Su-Ma set on the table. “That will be all now. Thank you.”
Millie thanked the maidens as they piled the plates back in one of their crates and took their leave. But her attention was on Ilene, who’d started lifting fine china dishes out of the cupboards.
“Here, take these,” she said. “I’ll show you how to wrap the food so it stays warm until the major arrives.”
Taking the matching plates and serving dishes, Millie carried them to the table, listening as Ilene started to explain, “Now, in the winter, it’s easier to keep food hot with a fire in the stove. During the summer months, I wrap the kettles with these miniature quilts. I made them myself and they work quite well. When the major arrives you just spoon everything into the serving bowls.” While wrapping the kettles the maidens had left, Ilene gestured across the room. “You’ll find the napkins in the drawer over there. I embroidered them with blue Ps when I heard you were coming. Seth wasn’t sure what your favorite color was, but I knew his was blue.”
Millie found the napkins, beautiful cream-colored ones with a fancy P stitched in one corner. “Blue is my favorite color, too,” she whispered, more to herself than the other woman. The letters were the same deep blue as Seth’s eyes. If she’d never had a favorite color before, she did now.
“You know, dear, being a major’s wife—an army wife in general—isn’t for everyone. It’s hard work.” Ilene took the napkins and set them beside the plates.
Millie placed the silverware atop them, noting how nice the table looked compared to the tin plates and cups they’d used back at the cabin.
“I believe a proper wife knows how to make a home presentable wherever that home may be located.”
Pride had filled the woman’s words and an invisible weight settled on Millie’s shoulders.
“It is part of taking care of our husbands,” Ilene continued. “Another part of being married to a commander is never questioning his actions. If they want to talk about things, we need to be good listeners, but we should never ask about what they’ve seen or had to do.”
A hard knot formed in Millie’s throat. “I don’t know very much about being a wife.”
“Of course you don’t, dear, living apart as you have the past five years. When Jasper and I were first married, we lived apart, too. It’s the way it was back then, for army wives. A tragedy for sure. Your mother wasn’t the only wife to succumb to the loneliness.”
A chill ran so deep Millie’s entire body shivered. “You know about my mother?”
Ilene stepped closer, laid a tender hand on Millie’s arm. “I knew your mother.”
“You did?”
The other woman nodded. “Not well, but I met her a couple of times. Jasper and your father were well acquainted.”
There were so many things swimming in her mind, Millie didn’t know how to respond, and didn’t have time to figure it out before the front door opened.
“That must be the major,” Ilene whispered. “I’ll let myself out the back door.”
Maybe dreaming about kissing her all morning, or worrying about her while dealing with the incident with the children—even though he’d seen Ilene Ketchum take her back to the house—was the reason he was so anxious to see her. Either way, when Seth rounded the corner, saw her standing near the table set for lunch, his heartbeat sped up.
He’d been about to kiss her earlier, and the desire was just as strong now. But the atmosphere had changed. Releasing an inward sigh, knowing the moment was long gone, he wondered what to say, and finally stated, “The men didn’t find any more snakes.” He held in the groan that tried to escape. Reminding her of the snake had not been a good choice of words.
“That’s a relief,” she said, offering a wobbly smile. “Lunch is ready.”
“It smells good,” he answered, then pointed to the table. “This looks nice.”
“Thank you.” She carried a serving dish from the counter. “Mrs. Ketchum helped me.”
He waited until she had the food set on the table, and then held her chair before taking his own. After filling his plate from the assortment of bowls, he ate slowly, watching her pick at the food she’d served herself. “Aren’t you hungry?”
She nodded and lifted her fork, but it was obviously a show. He opened his mouth. Wind was fine, but she should never have purchased so much candy for him. Seth took another bite of food instead of voicing his thoughts. This was all new to her. She didn’t understand that trading a single item was fine, but multiple items needed to be distributed evenly. That was the tribe’s way, but Wind hadn’t wanted to share his jackpot. If anyone but her had caused the skirmish, Seth would have already reprimanded the instigator. Things were precarious right now, and even fighting children could be enough to set off some of the tribes.
When his plate was empty—an act of habit, since his mind was ticking away—he laid his fork down and refilled his coffee cup. “I have to go back to headquarters. Will probably be there until evening.”
She nodded, but was clearly deep in thought.
The silent treatment wasn’t like her. Mealtime usually was full of her questions about everything from the meaning of Briggs’s maidens’ names to how many horses were in the stables. “Wind is fine,” Seth finally said.
Her head snapped up, but she bit her lips together as if afraid to speak.
“Please don’t purchase any more candy for him without asking me first.”
She frowned. “I didn’t charge it. I used my own money.”
“That’s not the issue. Everything given to the Indians has to be distributed evenly. It causes trouble if it’s not.”
She gave a slight nod, and after setting her cup on the table, lowered her hands to her lap and looked everywhere but at him. The air in the room seemed to take on a tension it hadn’t before, not unlike how it did during deep negotiations with one of the tribal leaders.
“Did something else happen? Something I should know about?” Seth asked.
She barely blinked. Just sat as stiff and straight and stubborn as a mule, and her brown eyes had a dull glaze instead of their usual luster. He bristled. Rosemary was back. Leastwise, Millie was attempting to be her again.
“Nothing happened, and nothing is wrong,” she said, lifting her chin slightly.
The way she sat there, had ire inching up his back like a slow-growing vine, twisting and curling along the way. “I’d prefer you not lie to me.”
Her neck reddened as she drew an audible breath.
He knew how to handle soldiers, but this woman... He hadn’t known what to do with her from the start. Then, as her eyes squinted and her lips pursed, life pitched him backward five years, except he wasn’t sitting in her father’s office.
Millie was good. Right now she caused an image of Rosemary to shoot across his mind like a bird flying past a window. Seth ran a hand through his hair. “Why are you here?” The back of his throat felt laced with shards of glass, suggesting he might not want to know her answer, yet he said, “The truth this time.”
She swallowed hard, then answered, “Because you want a divorce.”
He lifted a brow, waiting for more.
“And—and I’m not sure if I do.”
That split him in two. He took the route he knew best. “Why? So you can go on seeing other men?” He’d heard things over the years, but chose not to pay attention, for they hadn’t bothered him. Then. Now they did. If men at the fort heard of Rosemary’s activities, they might assume Millie, in her guise as Rosemary, would behave in the same way.
“I’m not...” She took several deep breaths before pushing the chair away from the table. “I believe I shall pack my things. Corporal Kemper’s snoring can’t be as—as ghastly as your manners.”
He was already on his feet, had been from the moment she’d spit out the word pack. Taking her arm, he willed self-control to keep his tone even. “No, you will not pack your bags. This is your house. This is my house. This is where we both will live.”
She tugged free of his grasp. “I find it impossible to remain here.”
He snatched both arms this time, with a hold she couldn’t break, while frustration ate at his neck muscles. He should tell her he’d have a wagon ready in an hour to take her to Tulsa, but his tongue didn’t want to create the words. He didn’t want her to go, and that was a reality he couldn’t quite accept. Nor was the idea of her living anywhere but at his side.
Her arms trembled and she closed her eyes. The glistening tear slipping out the corner of one eye melted his heart, or the armor around it, anyway. Without even knowing he’d declared it, she’d won their second battle, too. This time she hadn’t even needed flowers and weeds.
He’d always been a sore loser. As evenly as possible, Seth demanded, “Why did you come here? Truthfully.”
She covered her mouth with one hand for a moment, before lowering it to say, “To have you sign the divorce papers.”
Tension burned his locked jaw. Releasing the muscles, he declared, “There was no need for that. I’d already signed them. All you had to do was sign on the line and return them to the lawyer in Richmond.”
Shaking her head, she lowered her hand to the base of her throat. “Not those ones. Another set was drawn up.”
“Why?”
She blinked several times. “B-because there are stipulations that needed to be addressed.”
Anger was mounting inside him, but the tears she fought so hard to hide kept it simmering below the surface, which was worse. “Like what?”
Sniffling, she wiped a finger under her nose before answering, “I—I need to ensure my future is set...financially.”
When she said certain things, he found himself questioning how sure he was that this was Millie and not Rosemary, and that had his stomach churning. “I don’t want your money,” he snapped. “I told your father that the day we married.”
Panic flashed across her face, so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it, because the next moment she callously replied, “Perhaps it’s not my money I’m talking about.”
His blood turned colder than the Boston winters he clearly remembered. He’d never laid a hand on a woman, and wouldn’t start now, but she could fear him. Should fear him. He wasn’t going to be taken twice. Not by her sister and not by her. Tension ate at his neck muscles, left them burning, and he used the sensation to fill his gaze with loathing. “My family’s wealth is none of your concern.” He’d made that perfectly clear before the wedding, as well. His seething mind told him to get rid of her now, but his damnable heart wouldn’t let him.
There had to be a way to put a stop to her acting. For that’s what this was again—the rational part of his brain had finally kicked in, and assured him that was so. It was just Millie trying to be Rosemary. His last attempt hadn’t worked, not as he’d planned. Perhaps it was time to be himself. An army major.
“I won’t stand for temper tantrums like your father did, and you’ll do well to remember that.” Pointing around the room, Seth continued slowly, clearly, so there’d be no mistaking his order. “Until we can safely travel to Tulsa, to Washington, this is where you live, so don’t think you can throw a fit and move into one of the cabins. I will not—will not—” he repeated for emphasis “—have men I lead into battle believing my wife and I can’t get along. In private you can do whatever you want, but in public you will behave as a major’s wife. Is that understood?”
She gave a slight nod, which gave him absolutely no satisfaction.
“Good,” he growled, spinning around. It wouldn’t hurt for her to have one more thing to think about. “You also need to remember that only army personnel and wives of army men are allowed to live inside the barracks.” He stopped shy of saying “not sisters.”
Seth left then, grabbing his hat along the way and not caring how hard the door slammed behind him.
A coherent thought hadn’t had time to enter his mind when someone said his name. Planting the hat on his head, and attempting to hide all that was going on inside him, he met the man at the end of the walkway. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
Paisley, with his eyes magnified behind thick glasses, held a piece of paper in his ink-stained fingers. “The lines are up. I sent the wire this morning and this reply just arrived.”
Seth almost ripped the note out of the other man’s hold. Unfolding it, he read the simple sentence. “NEITHER SISTER IS IN ATTENDANCE. STOP.”
An invisible pull had him turning, glancing over his shoulder to his house. Handing the note back to the man, he said, “Burn this and find out where they both are.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Paisley, no one knows about this except you and me. Make sure of that.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Millie barely made it upstairs before sobs racked her so hard she could no longer move. Not only had her muscles melted, her bones had dissolved, and pain encrusted her entire being. Pulling up Rosemary had been her only defense, but the hurt in Seth’s eyes, the disbelief and loathing, had dissolved all thoughts of her sister and now had tears pumping out of her eyes like water from an artesian well.
Sometime later a noise below had Millie scurrying into her bedroom. There, drained, she crawled onto the bed and curled into a ball against the pain.
Tears still blurred her vision, but her gaze went to where her trunks sat. The divorce decree was in one, the papers Rosemary had drawn up—ones that said Seth had to give her a small fortune. Papa’s money was all gone, and her sister insisted they’d need the money to care for the baby. Ultimately, that was the reason Millie was here.
Rosemary wouldn’t care that her demands were hurting Seth, but she did, and she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t hurt him. It left her feeling disgraced beyond all she’d ever experienced.
The noise below had long since ended—the maidens gathering the dishes, no doubt. Millie rolled onto her back. Seth had explained how some Indian names translated into English, whereas others didn’t—not into anything comparable, anyway. To-She-Wi meant Silver Brooch. He’d said she’d given herself that name a few years ago when Briggs had given her a brooch. Su-Ma meant Number One, and Ku-Ma-Quai was Woman Who Eats Buffalo Meat. If Millie were a Comanche her name would mean One That Lies and Lies and Lies.
She hadn’t lied about the divorce papers, but there was little solace to be found for one truth in a stack of deceit.
Pushing herself off the bed, Millie walked across the room, and looked out the window without really seeing anything, as she was too busy gazing inward. The thick, dreadful gloom inside her was massive, and grew when her eyes snagged on the other houses and buildings. Her deceit embraced so much.
Spinning around, she found the trunks lining the walls seemed to jeer at her, and the room threatened to close in, suffocating her. She had to get away from everything, everyone, at least for a few minutes.
Once she was downstairs, Seth’s demand of how she appear in public had her repairing her hair and washing her face, while ghosts of their argument screamed at her from the kitchen, increasing her need to escape. Grabbing her sketchbook and pencil, she left the house and didn’t stop walking until she’d exited the wide gates of the fort.
A short distance from the stone-and-wooden walls a cluster of tepees had a large number of people mingling around them. The sight of Indians no longer startled her; instead she found interest in their clothing and way of life. That was due to Seth. He held such respect when he spoke of them and their ways.
Moving closer, she found a rock to rest against, and sat down. The sound of a child crying reached her ears and she lifted her gaze, watched a woman pick up a toddler and cuddle it close.
The ache in her heart increased. Millie drew a breath, trying to control it, yet at the same time she couldn’t pull her focus off the scene before her—how children need love and protection.
The child was soon consoled and waddled off again, but Millie continued watching the Indians, mainly the women and children.
Her mind played havoc on her emotions, recalling specific events that left her eyes burning with more unshed tears. She’d never met anyone who’d known her mother. Not even Lola had. Father had moved them to Richmond shortly afterward. He never spoke of what had happened.
Yet Ilene had said she’d known her. Millie shook her shoulders, repressing a quiver.
Your mother wasn’t the only wife to succumb to the loneliness.
Loneliness? Millie understood loneliness, had for years. Truth was, the only time she hadn’t felt it had been since arriving at the fort. Not once in the past few days, even while Seth had been out with troops or over at headquarters, had she been lonely. She’d missed him, but knew he’d be home soon, and people stopped in to see her continuously. Moments of the past few days, times of laughter and joy, flashed through her mind, and then came the poignant moment of the argument with Seth.
The air in her lungs grew stale, and she let it out slowly. If he told her to leave...
Millie pressed a hand to her aching forehead. Her mind was exhausted, couldn’t comprehend that event right now.
Flipping open her tablet, she picked up the pencil to let whatever wanted to be drawn appear on the paper.
The first few pictures included Seth, but eventually her fingers copied what lay before her, the Indian village. Page after page, she drew images. Some of single people—a woman building a fire—and some of groups: three children chasing each other; young boys caring for a herd of horses grazing on the stiff brown grass; women dumping ingredients into large wooden bowls and then mixing everything together with their hands.
The sun was low in the sky when Millie felt her heartbeat speed up. Only one person did that to her. She closed her eyes when an elongated shadow fell over her paper.
He sat down next to her, and though Millie opened her eyes, she didn’t glance his way, merely absorbed his nearness. Keeping her gaze on the paper, she continued drawing a scene of three women she assumed were tanning a deer hide.
As badly as she knew what had to be done, the energy it would take was currently beyond her. Perhaps if she ignored him he’d go away. A smile almost touched her lips at the absurdity of that. Seth was not a man who could be ignored, nor one who would leave a woman sitting in the middle of the prairie by herself, no matter who she was and how much he despised her.
She flinched and the pencil shot across the page.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said.
“You didn’t.” She set the pencil on top of the paper resting on her lap, and shifted slightly to make sure her skirt covered her ankles, just for something to do. “This one wasn’t turning out like I wanted.”
“I think it’s very good.”
Unable to accept praise of any kind right now, she frowned. Mrs. Ketchum had said a good wife didn’t ask questions, but Millie was as far from being a good wife as could be.
Gesturing toward the tepees, she asked, “Why’d they set up their homes here? They weren’t here yesterday.” She stopped shy of adding, “when you took me riding.” Reminding herself of that joy right now would spoil the memory, and someday she’d want it to be pure, so she could smile when it came to mind.
“Per-Cum-Ske wants to go to Washington with me,” Seth answered, plucking a blade of grass to twirl between his fingers.
She still hadn’t looked his way, couldn’t, but hearing his voice, and seeing his hands out the corner of her eye, had her heart thudding again. “Why?”
“To make sure the needs of his people are heard.”
“I thought that was why you’re going.”
He tossed aside the grass. “It is, but others have gone before me, and things haven’t improved. He has no reason to believe they will this time, either.”
The distress in Seth’s voice had compassion swirling inside her. No matter what her issues were, they didn’t change him. He was a good person who cared deeply about the Indians and his duties to oversee their welfare.
“Will you let him go?” she asked.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Are you still planning on going soon?”
“Yes. Before the end of the month.”
Knowing she couldn’t ask him to wait until December again, since she’d seen for herself how important the trip was, Millie searched for another topic. “Where do they get the poles for their tepees?”
“They bring them with them,” he said. “When they leave there won’t be a single sign left behind that they’ve been here, except some trampled grass.”
“What are they made of, the walls of the tepees?”
“Hides they tan and sew together. Then they decorate them with die made from berries and such.”
“They’re very resourceful people,” she said.
“Yes, they are. There was a time when the land gave them everything they needed.”
Millie nodded. Seth had explained the way things used to be for the Indians one night while eating supper. During the silence that settled between them now, she picked up the pencil and filled in the deer hide on the drawing.
The clothes of the women—one wearing a leather tunic-type shift, and two others wearing cotton dresses they’d cut off near their knees—had been filled in, as well, when he let out a sigh.
Unable not to, Millie glanced his way, and the sincerity in his eyes had her dropping her gaze instantly.
“I didn’t come out here to talk about them,” he said.
Sorrow tightened the skin on her cheeks and a heaviness invaded her stomach, yet she nodded.
“I came to apologize to you. I’m sor—”
“Don’t,” she insisted, swallowing the sob burning her throat. He held no fault in any of this, and she couldn’t bear to hear him apologize. “Please don’t say you’re sorry.”
“I am. I shouldn’t have—”
“Please, Seth.” The tears were back, pressing hard and making her blink. Taking a breath, she said, “I’m sorry, too, but that’s not... I can’t...” An explanation wouldn’t come out. How could it when she didn’t know what she was trying to say? What she could say.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked.
Millie thought for a moment, wondered what Rosemary would say, and if she had the wherewithal to pull her sister up right now. The uncertainty in Seth’s voice—a man who was so full of confidence—was like a knife slicing her heart in two. Knowing her sister would never say what Millie was about to didn’t stop her. Right now she had to be herself, and be honest with him.
“I don’t know what I want,” she whispered.
He was quiet for a few minutes, and she tried to put her emotions back into the little imaginary box she’d enclosed them in earlier. Saving them for a day when she could cherish every moment.
“Can I put my arm around you?” he asked.
Her little box wasn’t very strong, for it exploded as if hit by the force of a locomotive. Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
The arm that stretched over her back to cup her shoulder was not only familiar, its touch sent calming relief spreading through her system. It was so comforting that even her spirit felt soothed. Drawn to him, she leaned his way and tilted her head to rest it against his shoulder.
His jaw gently bumped her forehead, and a sweet blanket of solace covered her from top to bottom and inside out. She loved her body when it touched his. The sensations were unique and precious, and so utterly amazing. This was for her imaginary box, something she’d remember forever, and she closed her eyes, embedding the moment deep inside.
Not so long ago she’d wondered how a person knew when he or she had fallen in love. Well, now she knew. And the thread of pain flowing through these wonderful, life-changing feelings was enough to make her wish she didn’t. Loving Seth altered everything. Inside her, that was. But it didn’t alter the fact there was nothing she could do.
When she opened her eyes, the brilliance before her had her blinking. The sun had met the earth at the far-off horizon, and the way it splayed a rainbow of colors—reds, yellows, oranges, pinks, blues and purples—over the great flat land made it impossible to tell where the ground ended and the sky began. The irony of the scene made a heartrending smile tug on her lips. The sunset was exactly like the feelings overwhelming her. There was no way to tell where the love began or ended, nor the pain.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Seth asked, knowing she was staring at the sunset. He’d never been in this state before, this gray area of being neither right nor wrong. It was not only frustrating, it left him lacking, searching for answers that wouldn’t come.
“Yes, it is,” she whispered.
Even though he was holding her, he wanted more, and it wasn’t just physical. This went deeper than that. He’d known that right after walking out of the house this afternoon. When it came to her, he didn’t want to be an army major. He just wanted to be man. A plain and simple man.
Russ had came to headquarters an hour or so after lunch, said she’d walked out the gate. The corporal offered to go after her, but Seth said he’d go himself. He had, and for the past several hours he’d sat a short distance away, watching her.
A dozen scenarios had played in his mind during that time, but the one that stood out was that he had to face the truth. He could put himself in dangerous situations, lead a charge of men into a heated battle, and defy death head-on, because there was no one he had to worry about leaving behind. No widow or children to mourn him.
Somehow, in some unimaginable way, he’d fallen in love. The one thing he’d sworn never to do. With a woman who didn’t exist. She was flesh and blood, but beyond that it all became a little hazy. The very fact that he felt the way he did proved she was Millie and not Rosemary, and that, too, only complicated things.
The fort was no place for her. She was too gentle for such harshness. But he couldn’t come clean, either, tell her he knew who she was, because then he’d have to send her away. Army regulations stated she couldn’t live here, not without being married. He’d pointed that out himself, which meant the sham had to continue.
Sitting there watching her, he’d thought of many things, including his mother. How she’d cried after his father had died, but only when she thought no one was near.
Amanda Parker-Wadsworth was a strong woman. He’d heard that his entire life, still did, and knew it to be true. Though she hadn’t wallowed in her grief, it had changed her. He’d seen that, too. His father’s death had changed Seth, too. His dreams, his plans. And that had led to something else he couldn’t abide. His death—that of a husband, or someday, maybe a father—would affect other people. People he loved. Namely, one very pretty woman currently nestled against his side.
Seth had also wondered, while thinking of his mother, what her dreams had been. He’d bet they hadn’t been to run a shipbuilding company, yet she had. When her husband and brothers were called to fight in the war, she’d taken over the helm, overseen the building of ships that were still carrying supplies up and down the eastern seaboard and making the entire family very wealthy.
Some thought marrying Ralph Wadsworth had been a business move for her. The man had worked for a competitor before their marriage, but Seth now wondered if his mother had remarried so that he and his brother could move on. Go to West Point as they’d always dreamed. He hoped not, but while entertaining the fact that he’d fallen in love, he’d started to wonder just how far people might go to make someone they loved happy. Perhaps even as far as pretending to be someone they weren’t.
The sun was slowly fading and early stars were popping out in a purple-hued sky when Per-Cum-Ske walked toward them.
“Major.” The Indian leader stepped closer as they rose to their feet. “Your wife?”
Seth hooked a hand on Millie’s hip and tugged her a bit closer to his side. “Yes, this is my wife. Mrs. Parker.”
Per-Cum-Ske, standing tall with shoulders squared, gestured toward the three women behind him. “My wives.”
Tightening his hold when she wobbled slightly against him, Seth nodded toward the women. “Maruawe. Hello.”
Once they’d responded in kind, Per-Cum-Ske said, “You, your wife, eat with my family.”
Seth looked down at the woman beside him, letting her know it was her choice. Her eyes were thoughtful, glimmering in the fading light, yet a little smile formed as she nodded.
“Yes,” he told Per-Cum-Ske. “We’ll join you.” As the others started walking toward their tepees, he held her back. “Are you sure?”
She glanced from the camp to him before nodding. “Yes, I’m sure.” Seconds later, as they started to follow, she whispered, “What does Per-Cum-Ske mean?”
“The Hairy One.”
“Oh.” Glancing up with a mystified expression, she asked, “And all three of those women are his wives?”
Smiling, for some of her expressions were too adorable not to grin at, Seth answered, “Yes, all three of them.”
Eyes wide, she gazed at the women.
His mind, the one small section he still had control over, wondered how she was going to react to the meal. There would be no table, no chairs, no silverware or pot of tea. His nerves started ticking, and he glanced over his shoulder, checking the sentry seated in his lookout post. If the Rosemary he’d met five years ago suddenly appeared and sat down on the ground with Per-Cum-Ske and his wives, there just might be an Indian uprising before the meal ended.
An hour later, Seth was eating his thoughts, while his wife had the entire tribe eating out of her hand. The charm and grace she’d portrayed most of the time since arriving at the fort had captured the band as easily as it had won him over, especially when she allowed them to pass her sketchbook around. Laughter had abounded as members pointed to themselves on the pages.
Per-Cum-Ske now rested the book across his folded legs, carefully examining each page, and frowning so deeply Seth’s spine quivered.
“How you draw,” Per-Cum-Ske asked, gesturing across the fire, “Major Parker so—” the leader squared his shoulders and lifted his thick, square jaw “—perfect, and draw you—” he was now gesturing toward Millie as he pulled his face into a fierce grimace “—so ugly?”
Fire shot up Seth’s back, but his wife’s laughter launched the entire tribe into hoots and guffawing.
Still laughing, she reached over and folded her fingers around his hand. The firelight shone in her eyes and made her cheeks glow as she glanced up at him. “Because,” she said, “I can look at him.” Turning to Per-Cum-Ske, she pointed to her eyes and then patted her chest. “I can’t look at myself. I have to draw from memory.” She pointed to her temple. “I have to think what I look like.”
The leader shook his head and, making a show of turning the page, said, “Think better. Harder.”
Her giggle floated on the air and swirled all the way around Seth as she leaned her head against his shoulder.
Gently bumping her, he teased, “I told you it wasn’t a good likeness.”
“Yes, you did,” she said, still giggling.
It was amazing all the things she manifested inside him, the way she had him looking at the world in a different way.
“You draw me and my wives?” Per-Cum-Ske asked, handing her the tablet. “So I take to Washington, show Great Chief.”
“Yes, I will draw you and your wives,” she said, setting the paper on the ground beside her. “But not now.” Pointing to the sky, she explained, “I need the sunlight.”
“Tomorrow?” the leader asked.