The Bear: Paha Sapa Saga Book Three Part Two
Robin Deeter
The Bear
The Paha Sapa Saga, Book Three, Part Two
Robin Deeter
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Table of Contents
Dedication
A Special Thank You
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
About the Author
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all you brave readers who continue to accompany me on this adventure. We still have new characters to meet, exciting events to share, and new places to explore together. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, your faith, friendship, and kindness are so very appreciated. Happy reading!
A Special Thank You
To my Essie, you are my rock and my biggest fan. You’re always there to cheer me on and give me a kick in the caboose when I need it. I treasure your love and loyalty and I couldn’t do this without you.
Other books by Robin Deeter
Chance City Beginnings
(Prequels to Chance City Series)
Part One
Part Two
Chance City Series
Mail Order Mystery
Mail Order Mystery Audio Book
Mail Order Mystery Print Book
On the Fence
Crossroads
Gray Justice
When the Thunder Rolls
And the Lightning Strikes
A Very Decker Christmas
The Paha Sapa Saga
Sacrifice and Reward
Sacrifice and Reward Audio Book
Sacrifice and Reward Print Book
Winter Moon
The Bear, Part One
The Bear, Part Two
The Phantom Horse Bridge Series
Phantom Origins Book 0
Phantom Heat
Wolf Junction Series
Silver Bell Shifter
Chapter One
A soft rain fell on the roof of the Blake house a few nights after the arrival of the man Noah Blake had been told was his father. It being a warm night, he lay under only a cotton sheet. The window in his room was cracked a little to let in cool air. His father sat on the edge of the bed telling him a story.
Noah was riveted as Luke Blake related a tale of a fierce fight to him. Luke had already told him two stories, after which Noah was expected to go to sleep. However, Noah had begged Luke for just one more story.
“Did you win, then?” Noah asked. “Did you kill the other brave?”
Luke smiled at him and held up a finger. “Never interrupt a storyteller. It’s considered very impolite.”
Noah sat up against his headboard. “Sorry. Please, go on.”
Luke turned toward Noah a little more. “Yes, I killed him, but there’s something you must understand. Killing isn’t glorious, it isn’t fun, at least for me. Some warriors enjoy battle. I don’t.”
Noah cocked his head a little as his eyebrows drew down over his dark eyes. “Why not? Doesn’t it feel good to win?”
“It feels good knowing that you’ve protected your people, but it often weighs on my heart when I kill someone. Taking a person’s life shouldn’t be done lightly,” Luke said. “I hope you never do, but if you ever have to kill someone, you’ll understand.”
Noah said, “I see.”
Luke’s mouth curved in a wry smile. “You don’t, but that’s all right. Now, it’s time you went to sleep. Father will have my head if I keep you up late again.”
Noah frowned but laid down without objecting. “Will you tell me more stories tomorrow? Please? And will Moonbeam make fry bread again?”
Luke grinned. “Yes, I’ll tell you more stories. You’ll have to ask Moonbeam about the fry bread, though.”
“It’s delicious,” Noah said. “And will you teach me more Kiowa?”
“Yes,” Luke said on a laugh. “I’ll teach you more Kiowa. Go to sleep.”
Noah grinned. “All right. Goodnight.”
Luke rose from the bed and blew out the candle on the nightstand. Bending down, he brushed a kiss against Noah’s forehead. “Sleep well.”
Noah watched Luke walk from the room, fascinated by the fact that he didn’t make a sound. He wanted to learn how to do that and so many other things. Despite being half Indian, he didn’t know much about being one.
Sometimes his grandfather let him go to the Miami village with him when he went to teach them about Christianity. However, Chris didn’t let him stray too far and there were only a few Indians he trusted around Noah. This wasn’t because Chris didn’t like Indians. He was quite fond of them.
Noah had been eight years old the first time Chris had taken him to the Miami village. A senile old woman had accused Chris of stealing Noah from her family. She’d tried to take Noah from Chris, which had caused a great commotion. Eventually, once some of the woman’s family arrived on the scene, they’d convinced the elderly woman that Noah didn’t belong to them and Chris had immediately left the village with the frightened boy.
It had been only last year when Chris had allowed Noah to accompany him again. Therefore, Noah’s knowledge of the way Indians lived was mostly limited to what Chris told him. So, he knew very little about that side of his heritage and was intensely curious about Luke and the others who’d come with him.
As his curtains fluttered in the rain-scented breeze, Noah smiled as he thought about how their housekeeper, Lisette, blushed whenever Rushing Bull was around. At first, she’d been overwhelmed by having five Indians around the house, but she’d gotten used to them. Rushing Bull complimented her cooking and sent flirtatious smiles her way, which turned her cheeks pink.
Noah was fast coming to adore Moonbeam, with her kindness, pretty smile, and teasing. He enjoyed her cooking and liked hearing her stories—all their stories, in fact. Their tales enthralled him, and he hungered for more.
He wanted to see Cricket’s medicine lodge and meet Moonbeam and Luke’s bear. How exciting it must be to fight enemies and hunt game! One thing he did know from being around the Miami, a man’s weapons were very personal and important. Therefore, he hadn’t attempted to touch any of the Indian men’s weapons.
Perhaps tomorrow he would screw up his courage and ask his father to show him how to shoot an arrow, or how to walk silently. There was so much that he wanted to know, but he had no clue where to start. Such as, how long would they stay? Noah was a bright boy and he knew without being told that his father and the rest wouldn’t be staying for good.
What happened when they left? Would Luke take him with them? But what about his grandfather, the man who’d loved and raised him from an infant? How could he leave him? Noah’s heart was troubled about that. He wanted to be with his newly found father, but he didn’t want to leave Chris. Noah’s eyelids grew heavy as the sound of the rain lulled him into slumber and he dreamt of an Indian village where a giant bear lived among the people there.
Ten Thunders smiled as he walked to his father’s guest bedroom where he and Moonbeam had been staying. As with all Indian fathers, it was natural for him to indulge his son. My son. His smile faded as he realized once again the enormity of that phrase. He was now responsible for another life.
It was disturbing to think that he’d only been a few years older than Noah when he’d fathered the boy. He’d had no idea because it hadn’t been quite a month after he’d been with Rachel when he’d been captured by the Ojibwa and torn away from his home. If he hadn’t been taken captive, he would’ve lived up to his responsibilities even though he’d been so young.
Stopping outside of the bedroom door, Ten Thunders knew that the situation was a complicated one. When they left—and they would—he would take Noah with him, but how much damage would that cause to Noah’s young heart? Ten Thunders hadn’t broached the topic yet, but he planned to ask Chris to go with them.
He knew that his people would accept Chris, but would he leave all he knew to go with them? Now that he’d found him, Ten Thunders didn’t want to part from his father again. With a sigh, Ten Thunders went on to bed. Nothing would be solved that night.
Entering the bedroom, Ten Thunders saw that Moonbeam lay on her side, facing away from the door. Judging by her breathing, she was still awake. Going around to the other side of the bed, Ten Thunders sat down, took off his moccasins, and lay down beside her.
He rolled over to face her. “Moonbeam, please talk to me. I know that you are upset.”
“Why did you lay with her?”
Moonbeam had known that Ten Thunders had been with other women in the past, but him fathering a child with another woman wounded her heart as much as if someone had stabbed it with a hot knife.
“I imagine it was because I was young and smitten with her. I did not have the sort of control that I do now. I am sure that I was also flattered because she wanted me even though I was so young.” He shifted slightly in the bed. “Perhaps if I had known that she was drunk at the time, I might have refused her.”
Moonbeam asked one of the questions she didn’t want answers to. “Did you enjoy it? More than being with me?”
Ten Thunders’ expression reflected kindness and remorse. “From what little I remember, it was over rather quickly.” He smiled a little bashfully. “Again, I did not have much control at that age. Most boys do not.” Cupping her face, he ran his thumb over her cheek. “There is no other woman who has ever given me the kind of pleasure you do, Moonbeam. It is so intense between us and I want you all the time. But it is not only the physical pleasure. Our love for each other makes it even more meaningful.”
Moonbeam blinked back the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. “Do you really mean that?”
“When have I ever lied to you?” he asked. “I would not say it if I did not mean it.”
A sob stuck in Moonbeam’s chest, making her voice thick with tears. “I know how petty this is, but I wanted to give you your first child. Noah is a wonderful boy, but I am jealous of a dead woman because she bore your first baby and not me.”
Ten Thunders slowly gathered her to him, relieved when she let him hold her. She hadn’t since they’d arrived and found out about Noah. He didn’t know how to make her feel better about not bearing his first child, so he prayed that she would come to accept it.
“Ten Thunders?”
“Hmm?”
Moonbeam couldn’t ask him the question that was on the tip of her tongue. Instead she made a request. “Please, tell me everything that you remember about yourself.”
“Everything?”
She pulled back and met his eyes as lightning flashed outside. “From the time we captured you, you would not speak very much about your past and now there is much of it that you do not remember. I do not know you very well at all.”
She was right and Ten Thunders now regretted that he hadn’t told his tribe more about his past because big chunks of it were lost to him. Why hadn’t he wanted to talk about it? Had he done something that he’d wanted to forget? It was possible, but he doubted that he’d ever know.
“Please, Ten Thunders?”
“Yes. I will tell you. Maybe it will help me remember more if I talk about it,” he said. “Of course, it will take longer than tonight.”
Moonbeam placed a hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm. “I know, but it will be a start.”
“All right.” He closed his eyes and forced his mind back as far as possible. “My very first memory is…”
Ten Thunders was yanked by the arms from his sleeping robes. His mother screamed as Ten Thunders opened his bleary eyes and rubbed them.
“No! Do not take my son!” she cried.
When she attacked the man holding Ten Thunders, he cuffed her and shoved her down hard. He said something in a foreign language that Ten Thunders didn’t know, dragged him from their earthen house and down the short ladder to the ground.
Fully awake now, Ten Thunders fought the stranger and screamed for his mother. She was descending the ladder when another strange man hit her and knocked her to the ground.
“Mother! No! Mother! Stop it!” Ten Thunders shouted.
Tears sprang into his eyes when he saw the man hit her again. Ten Thunders knew by her sightless eyes as her head turned toward him that she was dead. He’d seen dead people enough to recognize that his mother was gone.
Even so, he murmured, “Ihú
,” one last time. It would be the last time he said the word for “mother” in his native tongue.
His young heart bleeding, he kept his eyes trained on her as long as possible before the man carrying him dumped him on the ground and began tying his ankles together. Even though he was still small, Ten Thunders fought as hard as he could against his captor, kicking and hitting him.
The man had yelled at him and finally, tired of Ten Thunders’ defiance, he’d slapped the boy, dazing him long enough to secure ropes around his ankles and wrists.
Ten Thunders jumped a little when Moonbeam brushed away a tear from his face. He’d been so lost in his memories that he hadn’t realized that he’d been crying. “After that, things get foggy,” he said.
Moonbeam’s heart hurt for the little boy who’d been ripped from his people at such a young age. And he’d repeatedly been torn from so many he’d loved over the years. No wonder he’d been afraid of being captured again. But while she felt bad for the boy he’d been, she was also happy.
“I am so sorry for what you have been through.” She slid a hand over his arm. “But now we know who your people are.”
“We do?” Ten Thunders’ stomach clenched at her words. “Who?”
“Yes. Ihú means mother in Hidatsa.”
Ten Thunders’ breathing picked up. “How do you know?”
“I have been to their village a couple of times and that is what the children call their mothers. Also, our warriors and Ames have taught us a little of their language. They live in round dwellings made of earth,” she said. “You are Hidatsa. We know who your original people are.”
The ramifications of this were staggering to Ten Thunders. Not only had he found his white father and discovered his son, but now he knew from which people he came. He might very well still have relatives there. Was his Hidatsa father still alive? Did he have siblings?
He bolted up in bed at that thought and tried to force his mind back even further. However, the only thing he could remember other than that horrible night was the story his mother had told him regarding his name.
Moonbeam sat up, too. “What is it? Have you remembered something else?”
Ten Thunders laid back down and relayed his thoughts to her. “I am Kiowa now, but if I still have family there, I would like to know.”
Moonbeam said, “We can find out next summer. We will need to visit all three bands until we find the right one.”
He looked at her. “You would be willing to do that?”
“Yes. Unless I am pregnant.” Moonbeam wished she could put the words back in her mouth.
Ten Thunders shifted to face her again. “I cannot wait until we have a baby. Holding our child will be an incredible joy.”
Moonbeam said, “You already have a son. Perhaps we will have a girl.”
Taking her hand, Ten Thunders kissed the back of it. “I may have a son, but I did not get to meet him until now. I want to watch you grow bigger with our baby and worry while you are giving birth. And I want to watch you nurse the tiny little life that we create. There are so many things that I missed with Noah and I do not want to miss anything with our babies.”
Hearing him speak with such eager anticipation about their future children dispelled any doubts Moonbeam had that they would mean as much to him as Noah. Once again, she felt ashamed of such thoughts. She was glad that she now had the answer to the awful question she’d been avoiding.
Sweat beaded on her brow and she wiped it away. “These sleeping pallets are so hot.”
“Beds.”
She smiled. “All right. Beds. They hold the heat too much. How did you stand it when you were a boy?”
“I got used to it. Then I had to adjust again when the Ojibwa took me.” Ten Thunders shut his eyes against the memory. Once again, he’d screamed for a parent, only this time it had been for his father.
Moonbeam saw his brow furrow and his mouth thin. Lightly, she traced his jawline with her fingertips. “Do not think about it anymore tonight.”
Opening his eyes, the sympathy in Moonbeam’s gaze almost did him in. She was right. A subject change was in order. He got out of bed and stripped one of the blankets off it. He folded it, laid it on the floor, and did the same with a second blanket.
“Come, wife. We will be cooler down here.” He opened the window a little further, allowing more of the breeze into their room.
Moonbeam lay down beside him and rested her head on his chest. The air moved over their bodies, cooling their hot skin. “This is much better.”
“Yes.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple and let his mind drift back over the happy times he’d had with Chris as a child. The heat must have gotten to Moonbeam because it wasn’t long until he heard her breathing slow and she completely relaxed against him. Even though he’d had hopes of making love that night, he let his desire go for the moment. Instead, he gazed out the window and tried to recapture more memories.
Chapter Two
Except for when his village was being attacked, Cricket had never felt so panicky in his entire life. He was also angry at his two friends, who had deserted him for different reasons. Lisette was entertaining Rushing Bull in the haymow of the barn in which the three men were sleeping. Dagger had gone off to the empty stall where they’d all been staying and had gone to sleep.
That left Cricket to deal with Lisette’s friend Charlotte, who was much too friendly for Cricket’s taste. At first, it had seemed innocent enough because Charlotte had merely been chatty. It had amused him that Charlotte was under the impression that he didn’t speak English.
While they sat on the back end of a wagon, she’d prattled on about things that Cricket didn’t understand, but that he was enjoying learning about. Charlotte wasn’t fond of her employers, a rude couple who treated her like “cow dung” and had something called a conniption if she ate too much. He got the idea that they weren’t pleased when she took what they deemed was more than her share.
He didn’t understand this concept because in his culture, unless they fell on hard times, everyone ate whenever they were hungry, and no one complained. However, it seemed as though these white people were very stingy with their food and belongings. They also sounded extremely unpleasant and he wondered why Charlotte put up with it.
He’d made the mistake of asking her.
The lantern light had revealed the surprise in her blue eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you spoke my language?” she’d demanded.
Cricket had shrugged. “I was enjoying listening to you and it’s rude to interrupt other people.”
She’d smiled. “It’s a shame that more people don’t think that way.”
Not wanting to offend her, he’d merely smiled.
It was his turn to be surprised when she’d playfully poked his chest. “Are you always so shy?”
He’d overlooked her forward behavior. “I’m not being shy. I’m being respectful.”
He didn’t understand why Charlotte had come with Lisette if she wasn’t going to chaperone her. Cricket was pulled out of his musings when Charlotte reached up and took a lock of his hair in her fingers.
“It’s so wavy and shiny,” she said. “And it’s almost as long as mine.”
Looking over her blonde mane, Cricket supposed that was true.
“I didn’t know that Indians had brown hair. I thought all of you had black hair,” Charlotte commented.
Cricket doubted that she knew how much importance he placed on his hair, so he tried to remain polite. “Most of us do, but some of our babies are born with brown hair.”
Charlotte leaned closer and her breasts strained against the bodice of her blouse. Ten Thunders had assured him that her mode of dress was perfectly acceptable. Cricket’s gaze snapped upward from the tempting amount of creamy cleavage before him.
The amusement in her eyes told him that she knew exactly what he’d been looking at and apparently didn’t mind. It might not have made him so uncomfortable if they knew each other a little or were now married. However, he shouldn’t be ogling parts of her body that she shouldn’t be showing.
Charlotte gave him a bewitching smile. “See something that you like?”
“Yes.”
His heart knocked against his ribs as a feeling came over him that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. Desire for this woman who was a stranger to him started to heat his blood. Was it just that she was so different that she affected him so, or was it simply because she was a woman period?
“And what would that be?”
“Uh, you have very pretty eyes. Like the sky. I have a friend in our village with blue eyes.”
“Thank you. I think you have very nice eyes, too. Dark and mysterious.” She ran her hand over his arm, squeezing his bicep. “So strong.”
“Than—” His voice cracked so he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
She cocked her head a little. “What else do you like about me?”
Her hand landed on his thigh and he jumped at the contact. That was not a part of his body he was used to women touching. He had to get away from her.
With a smile, he slid off the wagon. “Your stories are funny. But these people you work for don’t sound very nice.”
Charlotte frowned. “No, they’re not. Where are you going?”
“I needed to stretch my legs a little.”
Another sultry smile curved her lips. “I know a perfect way that both of us can stretch our legs out.”
Nerves tightened Cricket’s stomach. How was he going to refuse her without hurting her feelings? He was saved from having to figure that out by Lisette and Rushing Bull’s reemergence from the hayloft.
When they reached the bottom, Rushing Bull pulled her against him and kissed her soundly. Lisette giggled when he released her and scampered over to Charlotte and Cricket.
“We must go before Father discovers that I’m not at home,” she said.
Charlotte sighed and gave Cricket an annoyed look. “Might as well leave. I’m not getting anywhere with him.”
Her statement angered and embarrassed Cricket. He walked away from them, went to the empty stall, and sat on his sleeping robes. He leaned his head back against the wooden wall and tried to calm his turbulent thoughts.
When he heard Rushing Bull enter the stall, Cricket said, “I do not want to discuss it.”
Rushing Bull yawned. “I understand.”
“Have they gone?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Cricket—”
“I said that I do not want to talk about it.”
Cricket stood up, grabbed one of his blankets, and took it out to the main barn floor. Folding it, he placed it just inside the door where it was still dry and sat on it. Even though the sky was overcast, he still looked up to the heavens and settled down to pray.
Moonbeam carefully descended the stairs the next morning. Going up them wasn’t so bad, but she didn’t like coming down. She was afraid of falling, so she took her time. As soon as her feet reached the first floor, Noah pounced on her.
“Moonbeam! There you are.” He gave her a beguiling smile. “Will you please make fry bread? It’s ever so good.”
Her heart smiled as she noticed again how much he looked like Ten Thunders. Noah also had his father’s personality. He was charming and considerate, rarely backtalking Chris. She was growing fonder of him every day. How could she not when he was so amusing and sweet?
“Yes, I will make some for you,” she replied as they walked to the kitchen.
“Thank you.”
Chris sat at the table while Lisette made a breakfast of eggs, salt pork, and toast. “Good morning, Moonbeam. I hope the storm didn’t keep you awake last night.”
She smiled at him. “Good morning. No, it didn’t.” She didn’t mention how hot it was in their room or that they’d slept on the floor.
“Good, good.” He stood up and pulled out a chair for her. “Come sit. Lisette will have breakfast ready soon enough.”
Moonbeam glanced at Lisette, who smiled at her. “If it’s all right, I was going to make some fry bread. Noah asked for some.”
Chris chucked. “Mind? Why would I mind? I’m sure Lisette would like some as well.”
Lisette said, “That would be delightful. Go right ahead.”
Moonbeam was learning how to cook on the stove thanks to Lisette’s guidance. She was glad that she got along with the other young woman. It was always tricky entering another woman’s domain because some women were greatly offended if help was offered to them. Moonbeam had been relieved that Lisette hadn’t minded her assisting her a few times.
“Thank you.”
As she started melting lard in a pan, the other men trooped into the kitchen. Moonbeam saw the look that Lisette and Rushing Bull exchanged and turned away to hide her smile.
Ten Thunders said, “Noah, we are going hunting. Come with us.”
Noah’s eyes rounded. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course. Come.” He motioned for Noah to follow.
Chris said, “I suppose he’s old enough to learn now. I’m just not much of a hunter.”
Ten Thunders smiled. “I know. We’ll take good care of him.”
Noah looked at Moonbeam. “Will you make me some for lunch?”
“Yes. Go on. It’s fine.”
He smiled and ran out the door, chattering excitedly at Ten Thunders and Cricket.
Rushing Bull walked over to the stove and filched a piece of salt pork from the platter on which Lisette had just put it.
She swatted his hand. “Stop that unless you’re going to sit down and eat properly.”
Rushing Bull winked at her and whispered, “Only if I get to have you for dessert.”
Although her dark eyes sparkled with mirth, she kept it in check. “Go on with you. Go with your friends and let me do my work.”
Rushing Bull chuckled and left the kitchen.
Chris had his nose buried in a book and didn’t notice the flirtatious exchange. Moonbeam was amused that he had one in different places around the home. He would read one in the kitchen then go into the parlor and pick up a different one. She didn’t know how he kept track of what he was reading, but he did.
Moonbeam liked Chris immensely. He was loving and kind with Noah, praising the boy and giving him encouragement. It was no wonder that Ten Thunders loved him so much and had wanted to find him again. The strong bond between the two men was easy to see. What happened when it was time to leave? What if Ten Thunders didn’t want to go?
She made the dough for the fry bread and tried to put that out of her mind for the moment. It was better to enjoy today than fret about tomorrow. For now, she was in the company of people she liked and enjoying learning to live in a completely different culture. She started humming a little as she worked and let her worries melt away.
“You must learn to be still and listen to the world around you,” Ten Thunders whispered to Noah as they walked through the trees. “Every tree, blade of grass, and creature has a story to tell you if you only listen.”
Noah gave him a puzzled look. “What do they say? I didn’t know that plants talked.”
Ten Thunders smiled. “They do. Stand still and close your eyes.”
“Is this a trick?”
“No. Close your eyes.”
Noah shrugged and did as he was told.
“Be still and listen. What do you hear? What are the trees saying?”
For several minutes, Noah concentrated hard, but he didn’t hear any voices coming from the trees or anything else. “Nothing is talking to me.”
“Tell me what the trees are doing.”
“Their leaves are rustling.”
“And what does that tell you?”
“That it’s breezy. So?”
“Open your eyes.”
Noah did and looked at the trees around them. “I’m sorry that I can’t hear them.”
Ten Thunders put a hand on his shoulder. “You did hear them. How much are the leaves rustling?”
“I don’t know. A little, I guess.”
“How do they sound if a storm is coming?”
A slow smile spread across Noah’s face as he caught on. “They’re much louder and the branches scrape against each other, too.”
Ten Thunders grinned. “Yes! Do you see what I mean now? All of nature will speak to you and help you understand the world around you. There is help everywhere you go. The animals can warn you of danger or lead you to water. Streams and the sun can help you with direction and time.”
Noah shook his head. “I have so much to learn. I doubt I’ll ever be a good Indian.”
Ten Thunders said, “If I can learn, so can you. I was even older than you when I was stolen. I was so little when Father took me from the Frenchmen that I don’t really remember my first people. But when the Ojibwa captured me, I was about four years older than you. I had lived with Father and among white people for ten years, so much of my Indian heritage was lost to me.”
Noah fell into step with Ten Thunders as they started walking again. “What happened when you were stolen? Where did they take you?”
“They tied me up and we traveled to the north. I didn’t know it at the time, but the man who’d captured me had been one of the chief’s sons. Instead of making me a slave, they adopted me,” Ten Thunders responded.
“Like Grandfather did.”
Ten Thunders’ expression hardened. “They adopted me, but they weren’t kind like him. The chief’s wife was angry that she had another child to rear. She never let me call her Mother and if his second wife hadn’t taken pity on me, I would’ve gone hungry most of the time.”
Noah’s eyes stung with angry tears. “That’s awful. She sounds like a dreadful witch.”
Ten Thunders laughed silently, and Noah giggled softly. “Yes, she was a dreadful witch, but she made me a better hunter.”
“How so, Luke?”
Ten Thunders was conflicted over the use of his Christian name. On one hand, it made him happy to hear it, but on the other, it reminded him that he didn’t really belong in this world anymore. He was truly Kiowa now and that was where his heart lay.
“I worked hard at becoming a good shot so that I could catch my own food. I would snare rabbits and roast them out in the woods. Between that and what food the chief’s second wife gave me, I never went hungry,” he said.
Noah couldn’t imagine such a life. Every time his belly was empty, there was always food to fill it. He’d always been cared for in every way. Their home was clean and warm, he had clean clothes, and his grandfather was educating him. He had friends to play with and if he behaved, Chris bought him things at the store sometimes.
Looking his father over, Noah thought that while Luke’s clothes were very different from his, they were still clean and attractive. Leaning closer, Noah sniffed at Luke a little. He had a different scent, but it was pleasant.
Ten Thunders arched an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Why do people say that Indians stink and that they don’t bathe?” Noah asked. “You seem clean enough and you don’t stink. Moonbeam doesn’t stink, either.”
Laughter burst from Ten Thunders and a few sparrows flew from a tree they were walking near. Noah laughed with him, glad that he wasn’t offended by his question.
Still smiling, Ten Thunders said, “Indians bathe every day if possible, even if it is just to wash up. Much like you do.”
Noah cocked his head a little. “But do you bathe in a tub?”
Ten Thunders laughed again. “No. We bathe in a stream, river, or lake. Like the way you go swimming in the summer.”
“But what about soap? Do you have it?”
Noah’s curiosity about Indian hygiene was hilarious to Ten Thunders. “We do make soap, but we mainly use plants.”
“I see. What kind of plants?”
“I’ll show you sometime. For now, how about I show you how to use my bow?”
Noah eagerly let the matter of bathing drop in favor for doing something so exciting. “Yes! Where do I start?”
“This bow is really too big for you, but it will do until I make you one.” Ten Thunders held the bow out to Noah.
Noah took it, hefting it experimentally.
“Have you ever shot one before?”
“No. Never.”
Ten Thunders said, “Show me how you think it’s done.”
Noah felt self-conscious as he raised the bow and extended his left arm. He wrapped his fingers around the bowstring and started pulling back, but Ten Thunders stopped him.
“Never grab a bowstring that way,” he said with a smile. “You’ll hurt yourself and your arrow won’t fly straight. In fact, it won’t get very far at all.” He resettled Noah’s fingers on the bowstring until it rested against the crease right before his fingertips. “Like that. See?”
Noah nodded. “Yes.”
Ten Thunders walked around to Noah’s left side. “Don’t hold your arm quite so straight and don’t lock your elbow.”
Noah adjusted his arm to the right position. “Like that?”
“Perfect, except for one thing.”
Noah smiled. “If there’s one thing wrong, it’s not perfect.”
Ten Thunders chuckled. “True. Tilt your hand to the right and relax your fingers a little. Don’t hold it like you’re strangling a chicken.”
Noah laughed and did as he was told. “Am I ready to shoot now?”
“Almost. Watch me closely a few times.”
Noah handed the bow back to his father and listened carefully. As Ten Thunders continued the lesson, his three friends stood a little way behind them. They were enjoying watching the father and son bond over the experience, and, although none of them would ever admit it, they were just a little jealous of Ten Thunders.
For one reason or another, their dreams of having children had been thwarted thus far. Rushing Bull’s cheating wife had seen to it that his seed hadn’t taken hold. Cricket’s betrothed had been killed by the Cheyenne, and Dagger hadn’t earned quite enough coup to be eligible for marriage.
Ten Thunders worked with Noah for almost half an hour and was pleased with his son’s progress. He was becoming more familiar with the bow and his arrows flew farther. He stopped then because he didn’t want Noah’s fingers to blister. He didn’t have callouses from countless hours of using the weapon.
They went home shortly after that, unconcerned that they’d only bagged a few rabbits. It would be plenty for the evening meal. The Indians felt that they should provide meat in return for their lodging and other food, so they hunted every day.
Instructing Noah gave Ten Thunders great joy and he looked forward to teaching him about all things Indian. The boy was bright and determined and Ten Thunders knew that he would be well-liked in their village. They would leave in two weeks’ time so that they could get home before winter set in, but for now, Ten Thunders would just enjoy being with his father and getting to know Noah better.
Chapter Three
Lightning Strike opened his eyes and had enough strength to look around a little longer this time. He saw that he lay in his tipi and that a fire burned in the pit. Some sort of stew was cooking, and his stomach felt hollow.
He licked his dry lips as he tried to raise himself to a sitting position. He gasped when his whole torso screamed with pain and he laid back down.
A woman entered the tipi and it took Lightning Strike a moment to remember her name. Rippling Grass was a Lakota widow who came to visit with Willow’s family. She’d nursed the twins when Willow’s milk had dried up and had become very attached to them.
“You are awake,” she said softly as she knelt beside him.
Lightning Strike smiled. “Yes.” His voice was raspy from disuse and his throat hurt.
Rippling Grass felt his forehead. “Your fever is breaking. That is a good sign.” She poured water into a cup. “You need to drink.”
Agony ripped through Lightning Strike when she helped him raise his head enough to drink, but he fought through the pain so he could satisfy his thirst. Lying back, he panted from the effort to do just that much.
“How long have I been here?” he asked when the pain had subsided.
“Three days. We have been very worried about you.”
Lightning Strike frowned as he tried to remember what happened to him. It came back in a rush. He’d been stabbed in the back by a Cheyenne brave while he’d been fighting another. Then he remembered King standing over him.
“How is King?”
Rippling Grass shook her head a little. “He was hurt very badly. They shot him several times. Gray Owl is taking care of him, but we do not know if he will live.”
Grave concern over the bear he’d come to love filled Lightning Strike and he hoped that King would recover.
“I have some broth for you,” Rippling Grass said.
Once again, Lightning Strike endured great pain to take sustenance. The hot broth tasted wonderful and filled his belly for the moment. Relaxing back, he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.
Although everyone in the village was worried about King, they all gave him a wide berth. He lay on a large sleeping pallet just outside of the medicine lodge. Only Gray Owl was allowed near King. A huge shadow bear had been with King since the battle and it was very protective of the bruin.
Gray Owl saw the spirit of Bear as clearly as he did everyone else. She lay curled around King as though he was Her cub. He always asked Her permission to care for King before approaching him. A few times, he was certain that She’d smiled at him.
As he was grinding up dried roots to make a poultice, Fang entered the medicine lodge.
“A special council has been called and you are to attend,” he said.
Gray Owl stopped working. “Me?”
Fang held back a smile. Cricket had had the same reaction the first time he’d been told to attend a council meeting. “Yes. You are the medicine man, are you not?”
Gray Owl swallowed hard. “Yes, I suppose, although I do not feel like it.”
Fang did smile then. “You should. You have treated our wounded and presided over the funerals very well. Everyone says so. Come. We do not want to keep them waiting.”
Gray Owl laid his things aside and followed the war leader from the medicine lodge as his heart beat with trepidation.
Once inside the lodge, he took the spot Fang indicated to him and sat down. He wondered why Soaring Falcon was in attendance. A pipe was passed around and then Growling Wolf began speaking.
“As you all know, we have once again suffered many losses. Had it not been for the Great Bear Spirit, we would have had even more casualties.” Sadness deepened the lines in his leathery face. “I am certain that the Cheyenne warriors will report back that we have lost more warriors. They will attack again and bring a larger war party. We cannot withstand another battle. The time has come to make the most important decision our tribe has ever faced.”
Although the council members cast curious glances around, they remained silent and waited for Growling Wolf to continue.
“Soaring Falcon has extended a generous invitation for us to join his tribe—”
Voices of dissent immediately rose, but they fell silent when Growling Wolf raised his hand. “I understand how you feel, but we must put our women and children first. The reality is that we do not have enough warriors to protect them any longer. If we were to join Soaring Falcon’s tribe, they would be protected, and our widows could find new husbands to provide for them.”
“But we are Kiowa!” Tall Oak, an older council member, objected. “If we do this, we will lose our heritage. We will mate with the Lakota and eventually our descendants will no longer carry Kiowa blood.”
Several other members agreed with him while the others remained silent.
“I understand your concerns and I share your feelings,” Growling Wolf said. “But we must face this situation with common sense and not emotion. We must act wisely.”
Tall Oak said, “It sounds to me like you have already made up your mind.”
Growling Wolf nodded. “Yes, but it is not up to just me. We must vote, but before we do, Soaring Falcon would like to speak.”
Low murmuring filled the council lodge for a few moments.
When it had subsided, Soaring Falcon said, “Our alliance has remained strong over the past six winters. So strong that there have been many marriages between our tribes. Your head medicine man was betrothed to my granddaughter and had she not perished, they would be married now.
“These are dangerous times, my friends, and as your kin, it grieves me to have lost many good men, whom I was privileged to know. You have fought valiantly, first against us, the Ojibwa, and now the Cheyenne. Your chief is wise and wily, which is why you have survived this long.”
He and Growling Wolf exchanged smiles.
“If you accept our invitation to join our tribe, we will respect your traditions and there is ample room for you to have your own area if you wish. Although you are close to us here, you are still a day’s ride away; too far for us to help one another,” Soaring Falcon said.
Fang asked, “Here I am war leader, but what sort of status would I have with your tribe?”
Soaring Falcon understood his concern. “You would have equal status as Dark Horse and be a part of our war council. It would be the same for any of your warriors. Whatever status they have now, would be their status with us.”
A toothless old man, Bucks Him Off, said, “We will lose our way of worship. Will you not expect us to pray to Wakan Tanka?”
Soaring Falcon said, “Your head medicine man has been learning Lakota medicine, but, although he has learned much about our ways of worship, Cricket has never incorporated any of it into your ceremonies. He would not be expected to if you were to join us. However, I will say this; whether it is Wakan Tanka or Sendeh, we all worship the Great Creator, do we not?”
No one in the lodge could argue that point.
“We will do everything in our power to accommodate you,” Soaring Falcon said.
Fang asked, “Will King be welcome there? He is the symbol that we are the chosen people of Bear. We cannot leave him behind.”
Soaring Falcon’s eyes glittered with humor. “I do not want you to leave him behind. Where he goes so does the Great Bear Spirit.”
Several men, including Growling Wolf laughed.
Soaring Falcon grinned. “I had to get something out of this arrangement.”
More laughter followed his statement.
Growling Wolf said, “We will meet again in one week to vote on this. We cannot wait longer than that because we will need to move quickly since the Cheyenne could attack again at any time.”
The meeting ended at that point. The men were quiet as they exited the lodge, preoccupied by the difficult decision ahead of them.
Four days after the council meeting, King raised his head and gazed around. He blinked his eyes and yawned before hauling himself to his feet. The bear swayed slightly as he looked at his surroundings.
Gray Owl hurried to his side. “Easy, my friend.”
The spirit of Bear also rose to Her feet and Gray Owl had to crane his neck back as far as it would go to meet Her eyes.
“You have done well, Gray Owl. Your dedication and help will be remembered,” She said.
Gray Owl squelched the initial pride he felt at her praise. “I was only performing my duties as I should, Great Spirit of Bear. It is my responsibility to look after Your children.”
“Nevertheless, you have won favor with the spirit world. Be well, Gray Owl.” She smiled kindly at him and walked off. Although She walked over tipis and right through people, Bear only left a strong wind in her wake and damaged nothing along Her way.
Jumper appeared beside Gray Owl. He’d seen the enormous shadow move off. “Is She gone now?”
Gray Owl nodded. “Yes. She thanked me for helping King.”
“If She left, that must mean that King is getting better.” Jumper patted King’s good shoulder. “This is the first time that he has been on his feet.”
King gingerly sat down and groaned.
Gray Owl stroked his head. “I am so glad to see you up, King. I will get you some meat.”
He ran into the medicine lodge and came back with some dried venison and offered a small piece of it to King. The bear gulped it down. Gray Wolf fed the rest to him and then gave him some water. When he was done drinking, King nudged Gray Owl and laid back down.
Jumper said, “Now that Bear is gone, King will be in the sun. It is too hot for him to stay out here like that.”
Gray Owl thought for a moment. “His cave is too far for him right now, but maybe he would come into the medicine lodge.”
Jumper said, “Perhaps, but you said they tried it before, and he would not stay.”
“He was not hurt before, though. Maybe he will stay since he is injured,” Gray Owl suggested.
Jumper looked at King and shrugged. “We can try it.”
“Help me get a spot ready for him,” Gray Owl said.
After a last pat on King’s head, the young men began their task.
Lightning Strike groaned when his sister, Tulip, and Rippling Grass rolled him over so that they could clean his wound and repack it. Fiery pain shot down his back and he couldn’t hold back another moan.
“We will be as quick as possible, brother,” Tulip said.
Lightning Strike didn’t answer, instead concentrating on not passing out. When they’d finished, and had gently rolled him back over, he sighed in relief as the pain decreased. Tulip gave him a drink and bathed his face and upper body. The cool water was refreshing, and he felt a little more alert.
As Tulip lay a cool compress on his forehead, he asked, “How is King?”
Tulip smiled. “A little better. The spirit of Bear left, and Gray Owl and Jumper were able to move him into the medicine lodge with them.”
Lightning Strike smiled at the picture that created in his mind. “I hope he stays there.”
Tulip said, “I think he will. Much like you, he wakes up to eat or to have his wounds tended, but he sleeps the rest of the time.”
“I will get stronger.”
Tulip knew how determined Lightning Strike could be and that he would strive to recover as fast as possible. “I have news.”
He raised an inquiring eyebrow.
Sorrow shone in Tulip’s eyes. “We suffered many losses during the fight with the Cheyenne.”
“Who?”
Tulip leaned over and whispered the names in his ear so that their spirits didn’t hear her.
Grief tore through Lightning Strike as he mourned his fallen friends. His lungs burned with trapped sobs and tears welled in his eyes. So many of his fellow warriors were now gone. Guilt assailed him even though he’d fought his hardest for his tribe.
“Give me a knife.” His voice came out in a raspy whisper.
“Lightning Strike, you do not have the strength.”
He blinked back tears. “Then help me.”
As Tulip assisted him in cutting off a large section of his hair, his heart sank like someone had tied a huge rock around it and thrown it off a cliff.
“I have something else to tell you.” Tulip didn’t want him to hear it from someone else. “Fang said that we have lost too many men and that we cannot withstand another attack.”
Lightning Strike forced himself to face the truth. “He is right. We also do not have enough men to feed our women.”
Tulip pressed a hand to her trembling lips while she composed herself. “Soaring Falcon invited us to join his tribe.”
Lightning Strike said, “Go on.”
Tulip related all that Fang had told her about the council meeting. “They will vote in one week. What do you think we should do?”
Lightning Strike’s soul screamed out against joining the Lakota. Never had he thought that something like this would happen to their people. Creating an alliance and being friends with them was one thing, but becoming Lakota? He couldn’t imagine it, didn’t want to think about it, and yet, he must.
Not only had they lost warriors, but hunters, too. Several of the men had more than one wife because of the losses they’d already suffered. There were not enough men to feed those women, nor their children. Guilt swamped him a second time because he hadn’t fully lived up to his responsibilities to his tribe. He’d remained single, hoping for love, but it was time for him to do his duty now.
“Tulip, let it be known that when I am recovered, I will take two sisters as my wives,” he said. “I should have married before now. It is only right that as one of the few single men we have left that I marry and support whatever children they have.”
Tulip could see taking one woman, but two? “Brother, I do not think that it is wise for you to take on two women.”
Lightning Strike stared into her eyes. “Tell me, sister; if each of the single men left took two women, would there still be other widows left husbandless?”
Tulip pursed her lips and lowered her eyes. “Yes, but you are too sick to think about that right now. You will have to save your strength for moving—if that is the way the vote goes.”
His voice hardened. “You know it will. What other choice to we have? Complete annihilation and starvation are not options. As much as I hate it, as much as it sickens me to think about being absorbed into a completely different people, it is either that or die. It has happened to other tribes.
“Look at Firebrand’s ancestors, the Gandastogues. They were defeated by the Iroquois Confederacy and those Gandastogues that did not escape to the west were absorbed by the Iroquois.”
“Yes, I know, but…” Tulip’s words died away, but their meaning hung in the air.
Lightning Strike reached for her hand and she gave it to him. “I know, Tulip. I know. But we must be strong and do everything we can to survive.” His strength was fading. “You must help me find the most suitable wives, Tulip.”
Tulip wiped a tear from her cheek. “They must be of high status.”
Lightning Strike sighed. “Status does not matter much at this point. Just find me the two most suitable sisters, ones you think I will get along with. Do not take too long or someone else may take whomever you choose.”
Tulip would’ve argued with him more, but his eyes closed, and he slipped into slumber. Even though doubt crowded Tulip’s mind, she would do as her brother wished. She started mentally going through the new widows, determined to find the best match for Lightning Strike.
Chapter Four
The following morning when Lightning Strike awoke, he found two young women working in his tipi. He watched them without alerting them that he was awake as he searched his memory for their identities. As one of them turned her face toward him more, he recognized Sunflower, one of Hides His Eyes’ wives, now widows. The other woman had her back to him, but she must be Sunflower’s sister, Starlight.
Why were they there and what were they doing? His latter question was answered when Starlight rose holding several blankets.
“I am going to wash these. They are musty. I do not know the last time they were washed,” she said.
Lightning Strike frowned at her critical tone. Laundry wasn’t something he did very often, and he certainly didn’t expect Tulip to clean his tipi when she had a husband and four children to take care of. Tulip’s tipi was full since there were six people. That was why he had his own tipi. It was bad enough that Tulip insisted on washing his clothing. He wasn’t going to add to her burden by asking her to take care of his tipi, too.
Sunflower nodded. “I will clean out the fire pit and start a new fire. This too has been let go.”
Starlight giggled. “What do you expect from a bachelor?”
“He will not be a bachelor much longer, sister,” Sunflower said, smiling.
Starlight said, “We must do all we can to please him so that he will agree to marry us.”
Sunflower’s expression turned naughty. “It will be my pleasure to please such a fine, handsome man.”
Starlight said, “It will be mine, as well.” She smothered a giggle with the blankets she held and then promptly sneezed.
“Shh. You will wake him,” Sunflower scolded. “He needs his rest.”
Lightning Strike snapped his eyes shut, certain that both women would look his way.
“Do not worry. He still sleeps. See?” Starlight said. “I will return soon.”
Lightning Strike waited a few moments before cracking open an eye. Sunflower scooped ashes out of the fire into a copper pot. He’d wanted to observe her for a little while, but his bladder had other ideas.
He stirred and cleared his throat. “Ha; cho, Sunflower.”
She startled a little but flashed him a smile. It surprised him that the sisters had seemed so cheerful. Not only had they just lost their husband, but to his recollection, they’d always seemed so serious. Plus, they were already plotting to gain his favor.
“Ha; cho, Lightning Strike.” She stopped her work and moved closer to him. “How do you feel?” She felt his forehead and his cheek. “Good. No fever. Are you hungry? You must be.”
“Yes, but I need to pass water before I eat. Where are Tulip and Rippling Water?”
“Rippling Water had to return to her village and Tulip is busy. She asked me and my sister to take care of you today,” Sunflower told him.
Lightning Strike fully understood. This was his sister’s way of telling him that these women were her first choice in wifely candidates. Tulip was very wise in both domestic and political issues. Lightning Strike mentally ranked the men who had died. Among the dead, Hides His Eyes had had the highest status.
As Sunflower retrieved a night basket, he noticed that she’d only cut off one of her braids. Strange.
Lightning Strike suddenly felt shy about a strange woman helping him with the intimate task. He shouldn’t after other women had done the same thing, but it made him slightly uneasy. Maybe he could get up and do it himself.
He tried to roll to one side and felt like he was being stabbed all over again.
Sunflower gently pressed him back down. “Do not do that. You will open your wound again. Starlight and I saw that it is healing nicely.”
Lightning Strike remembered being turned over earlier that morning, but Tulip had been there along with another female voice. He’d thought it had been Rippling Water, with her, but he realized that it must’ve been the two sisters.
His situation was growing more urgent. What choice did he have but to let her help him? Besides, it wasn’t as though the sisters hadn’t seen a naked man before.
“I am glad it is healing,” he said. “I want to get off my back.”
Sunflower smiled as she untied his breechcloth thong. “You will. Better to allow yourself some time than to rush and make things worse.”
Once she’d helped him, Sunflower said, “I made you some tea before I put out the fire. It is a little cool now. Will that be all right?”
Lightning Strike nodded. “Yes.”
Casting a teasing smile his way, Sunflower said, “We are cleaning out your tipi. It is easy to see that you have no woman.”
He frowned a little. “I am not skilled at housekeeping.”
She filled a cup and brought it to him. “Most bachelors are not. Besides, you are much too busy to do such things.”
She lifted his head and he drank all of the tea. Relaxing again, he said, “So you and Starlight are in the running for becoming my wives.”
He’d expected her to turn shy, but just the opposite happened. She smiled and ran her fingers lightly over his chest. “Yes, and we intend to win that honor. No other women can take care of you as well as us.”
While she amused him, he was also confused by her behavior. He grasped her wrist. “Do you not miss your man? You have only been a widow for perhaps a week, but you seem very happy for a woman who has lost a beloved husband.”
She snatched her hand away. A frown had replaced her smile. “It irritated our husband because I was so direct, but I know no other way to be. He was not an easy man to be around. In fact, we were happiest whenever he was gone. And now that he is gone for good, we are very happy indeed.”
Shock widened Lightning Strike’s eyes. “Are you saying—”
“I am saying that it is a good thing that our dresses hide so much of our bodies,” Sunflower interjected.
Anger at Hides His Eyes’ abuse of his wives made Lightning Strike’s face flush. He’d heard of such men, of course, but he’d never suspected that Hides His Eyes had been one of him. Lightning Strike had never seen the other warrior be anything but congenial. It reminded him that some people were adept at showing only what others wanted to see.
“I am sorry. I did not know.” He held out his hand to her.
Reluctantly, Sunflower took it.
“I will never raise a hand to any woman who marries me.”
Their gazes held for several moments before Sunflower smiled and squeezed his hand. “Starlight and I will be the women you marry.”
Lightning Strike laughed as she pulled away to finish with the fire pit. He admired her confidence and thought that if the sisters were always this amusing, they could very well become his wives.
Soaring Falcon watched the line of Kiowa approaching his tribe with a heavy heart. As a man who was fiercely proud of his heritage, he could only imagine how painful this move was for the Kiowas. He’d become good friends with many of them and, while he welcomed them, he also wished that it wasn’t necessary for them to join his tribe.
It had been almost three weeks since the council had voted in favor of the move. They’d packed up as much as they could but had been held up by King’s recovery. None of the Kiowa would come ahead without their beloved bear and Soaring Falcon couldn’t blame them. King had undeniably helped defend their village.
No doubt the casualties would’ve been even higher were it not for him. King carried immense power in his big, furry body. Soaring Falcon had seen the shadow of Bear himself and knew that the Kiowa had found favor with Her.
Slither, his third in charge, stood on Soaring Falcon’s right. “This is a very sad day.”
Soaring Falcon heard the sincerity in his voice. “Yes, it is. I have prayed that this day would never come.”
Slither shook his head. “I admire them for their tenacity and creativity. It is not everyone who can beat the odds the way they have.”
Soaring Falcon shielded his eyes from the hot sun. “That is because it is not every band that is made up of such unique people. My grandson-in-law is a famous trader, their head medicine man holds great power and his apprentice is also quite promising. Their chief is crafty, strong, and creative. My granddaughter is one of their best warriors and they have King.” He smiled as he looked at Slither. “And now so do we.”
Slither laughed. “Their chief is not the only crafty one.”
Soaring Falcon sobered. “It is true that we are gaining some very useful people, but most importantly, they are our kin and we must help them adapt while still allowing them their dignity.”
“Yes,” Slither said.
Soaring Falcon started forward. “Come. Let us go greet our kin.”
“Please come with us, Grandfather. Please.”
Chris gazed into Noah’s dark eyes as they sat on his bed a couple of nights before Luke and company were set to leave. His heart was breaking over the impending separation not only from Noah, but once again from Luke. They’d already stayed a week longer than they’d planned, but it was time for the Indians to go back home.
“I’ve explained to you why I can’t,” Chris said. “It wouldn’t be fair to me or Luke’s people. I have my faith and they have theirs. The two won’t mix, lad.”
Noah grew angry. “What about my faith? It’s the same as yours. We worship God.”
Chris had thought of that, but the best response he could come up with was, “You’ll adapt, and in time, you’ll believe as they do.”
“What if I don’t go?”
Chris restrained a smile at Noah’s stubborn expression. “You belong with your father, Noah. Besides, going is all you’ve talked about.”
“I know, but I don’t want to lose you! I want us all to be together.” Noah couldn’t stop the tears that filled his eyes. “If I go, I’ll never see you again. We’re never going to come here again. Don’t you see?”
Oh, yes, my boy. I see that very clearly. Chris had seriously considered going with his son and his family, but in the end, he’d decided against it. Not because he didn’t want to be with them, but because he knew that if he went, he wouldn’t be able to worship the way he did now. He couldn’t renounce his faith, not even to be with his boys.
He stroked Noah’s silky hair and mustered a smile. “I understand, lad. I do. Don’t think for one moment that it doesn’t grieve me to know that I won’t see you anymore, either. But we must be strong, and we’ll always be in each other’s hearts.”
“It won’t be the same! I won’t have you to talk to or give me my lessons or to tease me or anything!” Noah sprang out of bed and ran from his room.
“Noah! Noah! Come back.”
Chris went after him, but Noah was already down the stairs and he heard the door slam a few moments later. He sighed as he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen.
“Let him go, Chris.”
Chris started. “Damn it, Moonbeam! Can’t you warn a body that you’re there?”
Moonbeam smiled. “I was sitting here in plain sight.”
Chris shook a finger at her. “Watch that mouth, miss.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Aren’t you going after him, then?” Chris asked. “He’s in only his nightshirt.”
Moonbeam smiled. “It’s summertime and he’ll be wearing much less than that soon.”
“But he’s alone out there,” Chris said. “Is that the way you’re going to be with him? If that’s the case, then he’ll stay right here.”
“Chris, sit down with me,” Moonbeam said patiently. “Rushing Bull is keeping watch tonight. He won’t let Noah get very far.”
Mollified a little, Chris pulled out a chair and sat with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry for being cross, m’dear. This is much harder than I imagined it would be.”
“For us, too. I understand how he feels,” Moonbeam said. “I’ve grown to love you and I don’t want to leave you. None of us do.”
“Ah, Moonbeam. I don’t want any of you to go, but...”
Moonbeam reached across the table and put her hand over his. “Chris, I have one last thing for you to consider. Please, just listen.”
Chris couldn’t refuse her request. He’d come to love Moonbeam as a daughter. “Go ahead then.”
“Come with us as far as Grand Forks. They’re in need of a pastor there and we would be able to see you every year. You could even come visit us for a few weeks sometimes,” she said.
“Moonbeam, it’s mainly all French there. They’re Catholic. They won’t want a Protestant minister providing for their spiritual needs,” Chris said.
Moonbeam smiled. “They have no one else, Chris. I don’t think they’ll care about your denomination. You’ll be able to minister to people who need it.”
“I’m confused, Moonbeam. You don’t want Christianity spread among your people, but you’re encouraging me to spread the Good News in Grand Forks,” Chris said.
Moonbeam squeezed his hand. “That’s because many of the people in Grand Forks already believe in your God and want to be guided in your religion. Our people want to worship the way we always have, not be forced to learn another religion as other tribes have been.”
Chris couldn’t refute that. Missionaries were always converting Indians, sometimes by force. He’d only ministered to those who wanted to listen. He felt that people had to come to God of their own accord, not because they were threatened into doing it.
If he moved to Grand Forks, it wouldn’t be such a hard separation for Noah because he’d know that they’d still see each other. By his calculations, he could see them at least twice a year. But what about his smithy? Could he get metal with which to work it? It was how he made his living.
And what about his house and other possessions? He’d have to sell them quickly and pare down to only the bare essentials. He had a wagon and another horse to make a team, but he’d slow them down.
Chris rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know, Moonbeam. I’ll sleep on it.”
Moonbeam smiled. “Good. I hope you decide to come with us.”
“I make no promises. Please don’t mention this to Noah,” Chris said. “I wouldn’t want to get his hopes up.”