It was just the two of them again, traveling across the vast grassy plains. Blue Hawk had a rifle and a few cartridges taken from a soldier he had killed. He hunted game along the way, when his snares failed to provide or when he felt it safe to risk a gunshot. He never needed more than one shot. They ate their evening meal near whatever water they could find, letting the horses drink and graze, and then they moved on, always spending the night three or four miles away from their last rest stop, in a cold camp. Kaylee missed the comfort of a campfire, but she knew it was for their safety. Out here, the smoke from a fire could be seen for miles.
They traveled for several days. Once, they saw a column of soldiers far in the distance. Another time Blue Hawk spied a Crow hunting party riding along a ridge.
Blue Hawk said little as they journeyed toward the ranch, and though he treated her as lovingly and gently as always, she felt as though her longing to go home had created a gulf between them. It grieved her to think she had offended him by her request, yet the need to return home burned strong within her. What if her mother was dying? Already dead? How would she ever live with herself if her mother died and she was to blame?
Now, as she spread their blankets beneath a moonlit sky, she sent a fervent prayer to heaven that she would get home before it was too late. She sat down wearily and closed her eyes, one hand resting on her belly. She seemed to tire easily these days. Her breasts were tender to the touch, and the smell of cooking meat sometimes left her feeling queasy. A baby. She was going to have Blue Hawk's baby. The thought filled her with a mixture of excitement and fear, happiness and uncertainty. Tales of labor that went on for days, of babies born dead, of mothers who died in childbirth filled her mind. She was swamped with doubts about her ability to be a good mother. What did she know, after all, about taking care of a baby?
"You are troubled, Kay-lee?"
"Yes. No."
He sat down beside her. "Will you tell me what it is that worries you?"
"Nothing," she said and burst into tears.
"Kay-lee! Tell me what is wrong."
"I don't know," she wailed. "What if I'm a terrible mother? What if the baby dies? What if I die?"
"Kay-lee . . ."
"I'm scared, so scared." She clutched his arms. "And so afraid of losing you."
"You will not lose me, mitawicu . What has put such a thought into your mind?"
"You've seemed so . . . so far away . . . these past few days," she said, sniffing. "I was afraid you were angry with me."
"I am not angry with you. But you must know that we cannot be together in your world, Kay-lee."
She looked at him, blinking back her tears, suddenly realizing that he thought she was choosing her world over his, her people over him.
"You're not going to stay with me when I get home, are you?"
"How can I?"
He was right. Shaun would never allow it. "I have to see my mother. You understand that, don't you?"
"I would not keep you from your family."
"You're my family, too, now." She took his hand in hers and placed it on her belly. "We're a family now."
"It pleases you?"
"Of course! I love you, Blue Hawk. You know that, don't you?" She looked up at him, her gaze searching his. "I love your people, Blue Hawk. I was happy with them, and with you, but I have to make sure my mother is all right."
Blue Hawk nodded. It was the Lakota way to look after their parents, their old ones. Among his people, the family was an extended one, with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins all taking part in the rearing of children, with each member of the family concerned for all the others.
"We will reach your land tomorrow," he said. "I will see you safely there."
It wasn't safe for him, though. Yet even knowing that, she couldn't turn back. She had to see her mother, to assure herself that Emma was still alive, that she would recover. "You won't leave me?"
"No. I will stay close by."
"But where will you stay? What will you eat?"
"You forget. I am Lakota," he said, and that said it all.
It was late afternoon the following day when they splashed across the river that separated Indian territory from the land of the wasichu . Though Blue Hawk knew it was only his imagination, the grass seemed less green on this side of the river, the sky less blue.
He reined his horse to a halt when they were within sight of the ranch. Several corrals held horses. Chickens scratched in the dirt. He heard a calf bawling, the crow of a rooster. A single cowhand was saddling a horse near the barn.
Blue Hawk looked at Kaylee and wondered what the future held for the two of them.
"If I can get away, I'll meet you at the line shack tomorrow night," Kaylee said. "Can you find it?"
He looked at her, one brow raised in amusement.
"I forgot," she said. "You're Lakota."
Dismounting, he lifted her from her horse and drew her into his arms. She snuggled against him, her cheek resting on his chest, her hands caressing his back.
"I'll miss you," she said.
His lips brushed the top of her head. "I will be close by."
"How will I get in touch with you if I need you?"
"If you need me, I will know it."
She looked up at him, her head tilted to one side. "I guess Mato will tell you."
He nodded solemnly. "Do you doubt it?"
"No." Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him. "Tomorrow night," she said. "Don't forget."
"Can I forget to breathe?" He lifted her onto Dusty's back and handed her the reins.
She leaned forward and kissed him again. And then, taking up the reins, she urged the mare into a lope.
"Lord A'mighty, is that you, Miss Kaylee?"
Kaylee smiled at Hobie as she reined Dusty to a halt in front of the barn. "It's me, all right. What are you doing here this time of day?"
"Horse pulled up lame. Come in for a fresh mount." His gaze took in her tunic and moccasins. "You all right?"
"I'm fine."
"You been gone all this long time, kidnapped by Injuns, and all you got to say for yourself is you're fine? Your mama's worried herself most to death about you! You get up to the house, pronto." He patted Dusty's neck. "I'll look after your horse."
Kaylee smiled at the cowboy as she handed him Dusty's reins. "Thanks, Hobie."
"Hurry now. I reckon seeing you will do your ma a world of good."
With a nod, Kaylee hurried up the path that led to the main house. She climbed the stairs to the porch, opened the door, and stepped inside. After living in the confines of a hide lodge, the parlor seemed enormous, but she spared hardly a glance for the room save to notice that there was a layer of dust on the tables, something her mother would never have stood for.
Running up the stairs, she paused on the landing. It occurred to her that she should probably clean up and change her clothes before going to see her mother, but she decided against it. She had to see her mother. Now.
Taking a deep breath, she hurried down the hall, opened the door to her mother's room, and peeked inside. The room was dark, with the drapes drawn against the sun.
Emma was asleep. She looked small and frail lying there, almost childlike, with her hair in braids. Kaylee felt a twinge of guilt when she noticed how gray her mother's hair had become. Her face was pale, lined with worry even in sleep. And she was thin, so thin.
"Oh, Mama," she whispered, "what have I done?"
"Kaylee? Kaylee, is that you?" Emma sat up, her eyes searching the room's dusky interior.
"I'm here, Mama."
Emma held out her hands. "Kaylee! Oh, Kaylee, the Lord be praised! It is you, home at last! I'm not dreaming again, am I?"
"You're not dreaming, Mama. I'm here."
Kaylee took her mother's hands in hers. They were so cold.
"Let me look at you." Her mother's voice sounded raspy, as if she hadn't used it much.
Emma took in Kaylee's disheveled hair, her suntanned skin, the Indian tunic and moccasins. "You look like something the dog dragged in! But, Lord, you're a sight for sore eyes! Where have you been?"
"I'm fine, Mama, honest. I've just been living with the Indians, and this is the way they dress."
Emma's eyes filled with tears. "That Indian . . . I thought . . ." She placed one hand over her heart and closed her eyes.
"Mama!" Kaylee cried anxiously. She squeezed Emma's hands. "Mama, are you all right?"
Emma opened her eyes. "I am, now that you're here. I've been so worried, so afraid."
Kaylee sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I never thought . . . and then I saw Randy . . ."
"Randy! Randy found you? Did he bring you home? Where is he?"
Now was not the time to explain, at least not fully. "Randy found me. He told me you weren't feeling well."
"Is he all right? Rachel's been worried sick ever since he joined up."
"He's fine. You know he's always wanted to join the Army. He makes a fine-looking soldier, and his officer says he's very brave." Kaylee squeezed her mother's hand, with a silent apology to the Lakota Randy had killed to earn the lieutenant's commendation. "I need to get cleaned up. Why don't you go back to sleep for a while?"
Emma clutched her hand tightly. "You won't go away again? Promise me?"
"I promise, Mama," she said. Wondering if it was a promise she would be able to keep.
With a radiant smile, Emma lay back and closed her eyes. "Prayers do get answered," she murmured.
Kaylee sat there a moment, her heart aching for the pain she had caused her mother. She had known her mother would miss her, worry about her, but this—she shook her head. She had never expected anything like this.
Tiptoeing out of the room, Kaylee went downstairs. In the kitchen, she put some water on the stove to heat, then looked through the pantry, taking stock of the supplies, wondering as she did so who had been fixing dinner during Emma's illness. Not Shaun, surely. Perhaps Roscoe was cooking for Emma and Shaun, as well as the cowhands.
When the water was hot, she carried it upstairs and poured it in the bowl on the washstand. Tomorrow, or later tonight, she would haul the tub into the kitchen and take a real bath, but not now. She didn't want to take the chance that Shaun or one of the men might walk in on her.
When she finished bathing, she went to the armoire and opened the doors. It seemed strange to have so many dresses to choose from. She picked a simple blue muslin. Wearing a chemise, drawers, and petticoats felt odd, almost smothering, after wearing a doeskin tunic for so long. Her shoes felt tight.
She brushed out her hair, then tied it back with a ribbon and went downstairs.
She put on one of her mother's aprons and spent the next hour cleaning the house. She swept and dusted, washed the dishes, peeled potatoes for dinner and put them on to boil. It seemed strange to cook over a stove instead of a campfire, and all the while she wondered where Blue Hawk was and what he was doing. Had it been a mistake to ask him to stay? It was dangerous for him to be so near the ranch. What if one of the hands saw him? But how could she send him away?
Blue Hawk watched Kaylee until she was out of sight, and then he rode back across the river. He could not blame Kaylee for wanting to care for her mother. It was the Lakota way to care for their own, and he was proud that she felt responsible for her mother.
He glanced at the sky. It would not be dark for several hours. Nudging his horse into a lope, he rode across the prairie. Once, it had been home to thousands of buffalo. When he was young, the herds had been so big, it had taken days to ride around one. No more. The wasichu had come with their guns and wagons, killing pte and taking the hides and the tongues, leaving tons of fresh meat to rot in the sun. Other whites had come from across the Big Water, hunting the curly-haired buffalo for sport, taking only the head and leaving the rest behind. It was waste on a grand scale. The Lakota did not kill for sport, but to live. And always a part of the kill was left behind for the wanagi . Always, the Lakota offered a prayer of thanks to the spirit of whatever animal had been killed, thanking it for giving up its life so that the Lakota might live. When a warrior killed pte , nothing went to waste. Horn and hide and hair, all were used by the People. They ate his flesh and made lodge coverings and clothing from his hide, their dishes were made of his horn, glue from his hooves, thread from his hair, his paunch was used as a cooking pot, tools were made from his bones.
Blue Hawk reined his horse to a halt in the shade of a cottonwood tree. The Lakota and the buffalo had been closely linked ever since Ptesan-Wi visited the Lakota people in that long-ago time when the earth was new, a time before the People had horses. It was a time when the Seven Council Fires of the Lakota had come together.
In that long-ago time, two warriors had been sent out to find food for the People. They had searched in vain and were about to give up when they saw a beautiful woman clad in a white buckskin dress walking toward them. She carried a bundle and a fan of sage leaves in her hand. She was the most beautiful woman the two men had ever seen. One of them, looking at her with lust in his heart, reached out to touch her. But this woman was like no other. This woman was lila wakan , very holy, and lightning danced out of the heavens and struck the young man, burning him until nothing but ash remained.
The woman spoke to the other young man, telling him that she had come from the buffalo nation with a message for the People, and when all were gathered together, she opened the bundle she carried and withdrew a sacred pipe. She showed it to the People, holding the stem in her right hand and the bowl in her left. Ptesan-Wi filled the pipe with chan-shasha , red willow-bark tobacco, then walked in a circle four times before lighting the pipe. Four was a sacred number, she said, representing the four directions and the four ages of creation. The smoke from the pipe was Tunkashila's breath, she told them. She told them many other things, and then she taught them how to pray, admonishing them that they must always offer the pipe to Wakan Tanka, to Mother Earth, to the four directions. The pipe would carry their prayers to Wakan Tanka, and now, because of the pipe, they were all related, the two-legged and the four-legged, the earth and the grass, all living things. Ptesan-Wi told them that the red pipe bowl represented the buffalo, but also the red blood of the People. The stem represented all that grew upon Mother Earth. Twelve feathers hung from the bowl. These were feathers from Wanblee Galeshka, the spotted eagle, who is Wakan Tanka's messenger. There were seven circles carved in the bowl, one for each of the seven council fires of the Lakota.
Ptesan-Wi then spoke to the women, telling them it was their sacred duty to bear children. She showed them how to make fire and taught them how to cook.
Before leaving the People, she told them that, in her, there were four ages. She told them she would not forget them, but that she would look back upon them in every age. She also told them that she was leaving a buffalo in the west, to hold back the many waters. Every year, the buffalo would lose one hair, and in every age, it would lose one leg. When the buffalo had lost all its hair, and all four legs, the waters would cover the earth again.
When she had finished teaching the People, Ptesan-Wi walked away. After going a short distance, she sat down upon the ground and when she rose again, she had become a young red buffalo calf. The red calf walked a short distance and rolled on the ground, and when it rose, it was a white buffalo. Looking back at the People, it walked further away and rolled once again, and when it rose, it was a black buffalo. The black buffalo nodded to the four directions and then disappeared.
A short time later, the buffalo came to the People, allowing themselves to be killed so that the People might live.
With a sigh, Blue Hawk stared out at the vast empty land. Only Ptesan-Wi could save the People now, he thought. Perhaps, if his people prayed hard enough, she would come again and bring back the buffalo. Perhaps, if they prayed hard enough, the wasichu would disappear.
With a shake of his head, he urged his horse into a gallop. Leaning low on the stallion's neck, he forgot everything but the exhilaration of racing over the prairie with the wind in his face. The past could not be changed. The future was a mystery unknown to man. But today . . . today he was still free, and tomorrow night he would hold Kaylee in his arms once again.
Shaun took off his hat and tossed it on the rack inside the door. He frowned, the worries of the day momentarily forgotten as his nostrils filled with the scent of fresh-baked bread. His heart skipped a beat at the thought that Emma had left her bed.
His footsteps quickened as he walked toward the kitchen. "Emma?" He came to an abrupt halt when he opened the door and saw Kaylee standing at the stove.
"Hello, Shaun."
"What the—how—when?" He noted how sun-bronzed her fair skin was. "You're back."
She nodded.
Shaun grunted softly. She was back, just like that. And seeming quite calm and self-contained about it, too. "Where the hell have you been all this time? Your mother's been worried sick."
She lowered her eyes. "I know. I'm sorry. I had no way to send word, but I've been with her since I got home, and she seems to feel a lot better now. Why don't you clean up? Dinner's ready."
"Not so fast, missy. I want to know where you've been all this time."
"With the Indians, Shaun—but I'll tell you all about it after dinner, when I tell Mama."
With a curt nod, Shaun turned on his heel and left the room. He had never been a praying man, but he muttered a fervent prayer of thanks as he climbed the stairs to Emma's room. Kaylee was back. Maybe that would put the glow back in Emma's eyes, the color in her cheeks.
They ate dinner in Emma's room, with Shaun sitting on the edge of the bed and Kaylee sitting in the rocker. The atmosphere was strained. Kaylee could feel Shaun and Emma watching her while she ate, wondering what had happened to her in her absence.
She hated to see the meal come to an end, but the time came when she couldn't avoid answering their questions any longer.
She couldn't meet Shaun's gaze as she told how she had treated Blue Hawk's wounds and then volunteered to take him back to his people in exchange for Randy's life. She told them something of life in a Lakota village, and how she had come to respect the Lakota and how kindly Blue Hawk and his people had treated her. She told them everything except the two most important things: that Blue Hawk was her husband and that she was carrying his child.
"Where is he now, this Indian?" Shaun asked.
She looked up into her stepfather's probing eyes. "I don't know."
With a grunt, Shaun stood up. "I can't believe you think so highly of a bunch of murderin' redskins that held you against your will, but that's neither here nor there. You're home now, and we can put the whole nasty business behind us." And so saying, he left the room.
"Kaylee?"
She looked at her mother, afraid of the censure she would see in Emma's eyes.
"You left something out, didn't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You love him very much, don't you? This Indian of yours?" Emma's voice was surprisingly gentle.
"What do you . . . how did you know?"
Emma held out her hand. "You're my daughter, after all, flesh of my flesh. Of course I know."
Rising, Kaylee went to sit on the bed beside her mother.
"I'm sorry you're away from him, dear," Emma said, "but I can't be sorry you're home again, or that you're back here with your own people, where you belong."
"Oh, Mama, how can I make you understand how wonderful he is? How wonderful his people are? They aren't savages. They aren't horrible, like Shaun says. Mama, I liked living with the Lakota."
"Kaylee, I'm sure that much of what you say is true." Her mother patted her hand. Even in her weakened state she seemed like the Emma of old, rising to the occasion. "But it's a lot to digest in one night, along with this wonderful meal." She smiled wanly. "We can talk of it more later. For now I think we could all use some rest, don't you?"
With a nod, Kaylee bent to give her mother a quick hug before going to her own bedroom.
Closing the door, she threw herself facedown on the bed and let the tears flow. She sobbed until she was empty inside, weeping for the life she and Blue Hawk had left behind and for the uncertainty of the future.