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  “In time you will know all because of how things will be,” Thunder Horse said. He then smiled and again placed a hand on his nephew’s bare shoulder. “And you? While I was gone, did you study? You know that it takes much time and thought to become the Historian of our band. To record the events of our people by painting pictures on skins, you must be alert and knowledgeable of all things pertaining to our people.”

  “Ho, as you told me, watching and observing is studying, and I did that well while you were fasting, my chieftain uncle,” Lone Wing said, proudly squaring his shoulders. “I feel that I am ready even now to become our people’s Historian.”

  “We have one now who is our Historian, who is called ‘Old One.’ He is very skilled at what he does, but he is eager to teach you things that you cannot teach yourself by observation,” Thunder Horse said. He lifted his hand from his nephew’s shoulder and rested it again on his knee.

  “My chieftain uncle, I not only want to be our people’s Historian, I want to be like you,” Lone Wing blurted out. “I want to be a man of strict honor, a man of undoubted truthfulness and unbounded generosity.”

  “You will be all of those things,” Thunder Horse said, smiling at Lone Wing. “Give yourself time and you will become the man your heart is leading you to be.”

  “If I could, I would be you,” Lone Wing said, then giggled as he saw his uncle’s eyes twinkle at that comment.

  He watched as Thunder Horse looked away from him to gaze into the flames of the fire. His uncle’s eyes seem to fill with shadow and thought, and Lone Wing wondered what had taken him away so quickly.

  He sat there quietly as he waited for Thunder Horse to remember that he still sat there with him.

  As Thunder Horse gazed into the fire, the orange of the flames reminded him of flowing, flame-colored hair, catapulting him again back in time to the moment when he had seen the white woman up close and realized just how mesmerizingly beautiful she was.

  Something deep inside him warned against thinking about the lady.

  Whites had taken much from his people. She was white, and worse still, she was somehow connected to the man all of Thunder Horse’s people despised.

  Yet no matter how wrong it was to think about her, or how hard he tried not to, Thunder Horse could not let go of his memory of her. Like no other woman before her, she had put fire in his heart!

  He suddenly rose and went to where he stored his clothes. Hurriedly he pulled on a fringed buckskin outfit.

  Suddenly he was not as bone-weary as he had been earlier. Thinking of the woman had revived him.

  He would no longer just speculate about her. He would go and observe her.

  “Chieftain uncle, are you going somewhere?” Lone Wing asked as he gathered his nest and bird into his hands and rose to his feet just as Thunder Horse placed a sheathed knife at the left side of his waist.

  “Ho, but I will not be long,” Thunder Horse said. He gently placed a hand on Lone Wing’s shoulder and escorted him outside, where the sky was now black and filled with sequined stars and a tiny sliver of moon.

  Lone Wing nodded and watched his uncle prepare his steed, then ride away into the night.

  “Perhaps he needs another night of fasting after all,” he whispered, then shrugged his shoulders and hurried toward his own tepee, where he would show his mother the sweetness of the baby bird.

  Chapter Four

  A string quartet played music as people danced on the highly polished oak floor of Reginald’s music room. A crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling cast sparkling droplets of light onto the crowd.

  Jessie stood back from everyone. She was alone for the moment, taking in the party Reginald had thrown to introduce her to the community.

  Sometimes laughing, sometimes wheezing, he mingled now with the crowd. For the moment he seemed to have forgotten Jessie, which made her feel tremendously relieved.

  She felt so out of place among Reginald’s friends. As yet, only a few had come up to her and introduced themselves.

  Although the party was for her, Reginald was truly the center of attention. Everyone praised his house, his paintings in the other rooms, and his beautiful grand piano, which no one had been asked to play.

  Jessie was dressed in a lovely pale green satin ball gown that Reginald had had waiting in her room for her. Lace fell down the front of the bodice in billows of white, and her tiny waist was accentuated by a green velvet ribbon that wrapped around to the front and was tied in a bow so the ends trailed down the full skirt.

  Jade had fussed endlessly with Jessie’s hair, bringing it up in long curls to her crown, where it was fastened by diamond-encrusted combs. She had left the ends of the curls free to fall loosely down to the nape of her neck.

  As Jade had stood behind Jessie, combing and twining her auburn hair into those huge curls, Jessie had watched her in the mirror. The lovely Chinese woman had hidden the bruises on her face tonight with powder the same color as her skin, and Jessie knew that Reginald was responsible for the beating. No one but Jessie and Reginald had been in the house prior to the arrival of his guests.

  Jessie had wanted so badly to ask Jade about the bruises but knew that the woman would say nothing. No doubt she feared Reginald’s reaction should he discover that she’d confided in anyone that she was physically abused by a man whom everyone saw as pure and holy. Jessie was quickly discovering that he was anything but that.

  She dreaded being a part of his household now and wished that she had somewhere else to go, someone else to help her in her time of trouble. Being with child, she was even more vulnerable now than ever.

  She had to do everything she could to protect this child, for in truth, her baby was all she now had on this earth!

  Jessie watched Jade as she walked around, offering drinks to the guests. Jade walked with humbled, lowered eyes, as she tried not to allow anyone else to see her injuries.

  Jessie once again thought of the lovely Chinese girl she’d seen in the window of the crib this morning. She could still feel the girl’s shame inside her heart.

  Trying to force her thoughts to more pleasant things, since she knew that at any moment someone could come up to speak to her, Jessie straightened her back and squared her shoulders.

  She could tell that Reginald was a man who enjoyed giving grand parties and showing off his magnificent house. He moved from person to person, talking and laughing despite his constant wheezing.

  The music room had been cleared of all furniture but the grand piano and a wide oak table on the opposite side of the room.

  On that table his guests could choose from such delicacies as capers, plover’s eggs, green olives, truffles, mushrooms, and meringues. There were also platters heaped with roasted prairie chicken, broiled antelope steaks, and smoked elk meat.

  The drinks offered were sherry, burgundy, champagne, and Reginald’s favorite wine—Château Lagrange.

  Jessie’s attention was drawn to several women who had gone to the piano and were now standing around it, admiring it. They looked over at Jessie and beckoned her nearer, smiling.

  “Can you play?” asked one of the smaller women, who was dressed in a low-necked, floor-length, blue velvet dress.

  “Yes, I can play,” Jessie said, then stiffened when she saw Reginald give her a sour glance as he heard her reply.

  She still didn’t know why he had warned her away from the piano, but she knew she must not play it. He had made that perfectly clear!

  “Will you play for us?” one of the ladies asked.

  “I haven’t practiced for some time, so I would feel more comfortable not playing the piano tonight,” Jessie said, again feeling Reginald’s eyes on her.

  “My, my, how disappointing,” one of the women said in a strange sort of squawking voice.

  “Very,” another woman said stiffly. Then all of them turned with a whirl of skirts and left Jessie standing alone again.

  Feeling uncomfortable since Reginald had gone back to ignoring h
er, Jessie lifted the hem of her skirt and hurried from the room through French doors that led outside to a veranda.

  She stepped up to the rail and placed her hands there, sighing at how out of place she felt. Again she wished that she was anywhere but there.

  When Reginald had first written to her, he’d made her feel as though she was truly wanted. She had thought coming to live with him would be the answer to her problems. She had envisioned them going horseback riding together often as they had as young children.

  Jessie felt anything but welcome now, even though she was supposed to be the guest of honor at this party. Reginald had not taken the time to introduce her to anyone, and the guests ignored her. She felt so uncomfortable that more than once she had wanted to flee to the privacy of her bedroom.

  But standing out there in the night air, where the slight sliver of moon hung in the sky and the stars were sparkling against the black backdrop of the heavens, was much better than being cooped up in a bedroom. Although it was furnished lavishly and should please any woman, she did not feel comfortable there. From the very first moment she had entered Reginald’s house, she knew that this was not going to be a place where she would feel loved, wanted, or needed.

  Coyote calls echoed off the distant butte, startling her. She had noticed earlier that coyotes howled here even in broad daylight.

  She shivered and placed a hand on her belly.

  When should she tell Reginald about the child? He certainly didn’t seem the sort who would want children around.

  It would be a while before she began showing, so she would wait and hope that she could find the right moment to tell him. If she was lucky, he would not go into a rage when he discovered that he had not only taken in a lonely woman, but also a child.

  “Here you are,” Reginald said, stepping out into the night air on the veranda next to Jessie. “Why are you out here all alone? Cousin, this party is being held in your honor. You should be a part of it.”

  “I just got so tired suddenly,” Jessie murmured, looking past his thick-lensed glasses into his beady eyes. Her heart turned cold when she saw their unfriendly gaze.

  “Well, let’s see what we can do about that,” Reginald said, taking her by an elbow. “Let’s get some food in you. Did you see the various local dishes that Jade cooked up for us? She is a marvel, that one. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Recalling Jade’s hidden bruises, and guessing just how unhappy and afraid Jade must be with her situation, Jessie stiffened. She had to wonder if she, herself, would ever be a recipient of blows that could cause such bruises.

  That possibility made her almost sick to her stomach.

  “Here’s our guest of honor,” Reginald announced as he took Jessie to the center of the floor, where everyone gathered around them. “Isn’t my cousin a beauty?” He laughed. “As you see, it runs in the family.”

  The music had stopped. All eyes were on Jessie. At this moment she felt like a fixture someone might buy from a general store.

  Now she understood the reason she’d been asked to live with him in the first place. He enjoyed having her there to show off to everyone as if she were a trophy.

  Oh, how she was beginning to loathe this man! Anyone who would beat a woman was not a man at all. He was a weasel.

  She forced herself to smile as Reginald continued to fuss over her, telling everyone about how they had been so close as children.

  “My cousin Jessie is bringing a lot of life and love back into my home,” Reginald said solemnly. “Since my Sara’s death, you all know how hard it has been for me.”

  Everyone seemed to nod at once as looks of sympathy were given to Reginald.

  But when Jessie looked at him, all she saw was smugness. She knew right then and there that this man had everyone fooled.

  Everyone!

  She could not help but suddenly feel trapped.

  Chapter Five

  Truly curious about the wasichu mitawin, the white woman, Thunder Horse hid in the shadows of the veranda wall at Reginald Vineyard’s house. Nearby, double doors led into a room filled with music and laughter.

  Thunder Horse had been watching the people through the sheer curtains of the closed doors, and had jumped out of sight just as the woman named Jessie walked through the doors to step out on the veranda.

  He had scarcely breathed as she stood there alone for a while, as though she were contemplating life as she gazed up into the heavens, as he so often did.

  He was tempted to join her there, to witness her reaction when she learned that he had come to see her again. But he knew if he did that, he might frighten her.

  He was almost relieved when Reginald came and got her, removing the temptation to reveal himself to her. He knew that was best. He would have to find another way to speak to her again, to understand his fascination with her.

  Seeing that no one was near, he stepped back to the doors again, where gauzy white curtains kept him from being seen.

  He could see through them well enough, for the room within was well lit. Candles glowed from above, placed in a fancy contraption that hung from the ceiling in the center of the room.

  He searched the gathering until he found Jessie and Reginald.

  He could tell that the man was proud to show off the beautiful wasichu mitawin, but Thunder Horse could read expressions very well and could tell that Jessie was uneasy.

  He wondered why.

  Had she not come to Reginald Vineyard’s house because she wanted to?

  Or . . . had she been coerced somehow?

  His gaze was drawn elsewhere, for there was much to wonder at.

  He had never seen white people dance. It was much different from the red man’s dances. This dancing was the dizziest thing he had ever seen.

  His eyes focused next on four people at the far end of the room, who sat in chairs beside one another. They sawed away at stringed boards that made music. These instruments were nothing like what his people used to make music.

  Again he gazed at the people who were dancing in time with the music. It puzzled him to see men dancing with women. And they actually touched while dancing. That was something his people never did.

  Suddenly the dancing and music changed.

  One of the musicians stood up and began shouting while another sawed away at his stringed board as men began swinging the women around on the shining wood floor.

  This sort of dancing, and the loud shouting, looked and sounded very rude to him.

  Then a young man and woman faced each other and danced in the middle of the floor as others watched and clapped their hands. Soon those people left and others took their place in the middle of the floor and began doing the same strange thing.

  Voices close by outside in the dark came to Thunder Horse, and his heart skipped a beat.

  He stepped quickly away from the doors and the candlelight that shone through them. He placed his back against the wall of the house once again, hoping that he was hidden well enough, for there were men outside. They were not far away, standing and smoking what Thunder Horse knew were white men’s cigars.

  He could tell that the men hadn’t seen him yet.

  He hunkered low and moved stealthily away from the veranda, blending in with the darkness as he ran to safety in the close-by trees. He hurried onward to where he had left his sorrel picketed.

  But before mounting, he glanced again toward the bright candlelight spilling from the windows and doors and listened again to the stringed boards making their noises while people laughed and danced.

  In his mind’s eye, he saw Jessie. He had not gotten any answers tonight as to why she was living with Reginald Vineyard.

  Was she planning to marry him?

  Or was she married to him already?

  Surely it was one or the other!

  One thing was certain. The woman had suddenly complicated his plans, for he truly didn’t want harm to come to her. He feared it might if she stayed with the evil man.

&nb
sp; Thunder Horse could tell that she was a sweet, soft-spoken person . . . and obviously uneasy with the tiny weasel of a man.

  But, again . . . why? Why would she come to Tombstone if she disliked him so much?

  Thunder Horse swung himself into his saddle and rode away into the night, away from the woman who intrigued him so. But putting distance between himself and Jessie did not erase her from his mind, or his heart.

  Ho, there was something about her that would not allow him to forget her. That first moment they had made eye contact, he’d known she would not be someone he could easily forget.

  He had saved her life then.

  Would she need to be saved again . . . saved from a rat such as Reginald Vineyard?

  From the way she had looked at the man, with a contempt she had tried so hard to hide, Thunder Horse knew that she had no good feelings for the tiny white man.

  So what did that mean?

  Why was she with him?

  Thunder Horse’s heart would not rest until he had the answers to those questions.

  He rode onward, glad that the music and laughter were far behind him now, for the silence all around allowed him to think more clearly. The main focus in his life at this moment must be his ailing father and his duty to his people, both those here in Arizona as well as the ones already living on the reservation.

  In time, he would see the latter again and embrace them. But until then, he had those who remained at his village to see to and keep safe.

  And he must protect his father’s interests. White Horse deserved to be interred with the other great, noble chiefs of their Fox band.

  “It will be so, ahte, my Father,” he said into the wind as the glow of his people’s lodge fires appeared ahead of him in the darkness.

  But suddenly a woman’s voice came to him in the night, causing him to flinch in the saddle. He knew that voice.

  It was the flame-haired woman! He knew that she wasn’t anywhere near him, yet he could hear her call to him inside his heart.

  He brought his horse to a sudden halt and turned in the saddle, staring back in the direction he had last seen the woman called Jessie.