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“Kaylene, you are not welcome here,” Running Fawn said as she backed away from her, her child held tightly within her arms. “Please leave!”
“Not unless you leave with me,” Kaylene said softly. She moved toward Running Fawn, backing her up against a wall.
When Running Fawn couldn’t move away from her, Kaylene reached a hand out to the child and gently touched his soft, copper face. “I also have a son,” she murmured. “His name is Little Thunder. And I also have a daughter. Her name is Snow Bird. I would love for you to see them, Running Fawn.”
Running Fawn offered no response.
“Do you remember how close we were?” Kaylene said, now reaching to Running Fawn’s hair, and stroking it. “Do you remember brushing my hair, and how you refused to let me comb it in Fire Thunder’s lodge? I couldn’t understand. I didn’t know then that it was a taboo thing to do. Now I know so much about your people and their customs. I love being among them. Please come back with me. If Fire Thunder had known that you were this close, living alone with your child, he would have come for you, himself.”
“As he would my other three friends?” Running Fawn said sarcastically.
“Where are they. Do you know?” Kaylene asked softly.
“No, I have not seen them since they left with me that day from our village,” Running Fawn said. She laughed sarcastically. “They are probably even dead, and what would our chief care if they were?”
“He cares,” Kaylene admonished her. “And he regrets many things and has made changes that suit his heart more than before. Always before, he followed the strict teachings of the Kickapoo. But now, as times change so has he. He is still a great leader, but much more lenient than before.”
“I would not believe it, even if I saw it,” Running Fawn spat out.
Then Running Fawn’s eyes blinked. “I would so much like for my father to see his grandson,” she said, her voice breaking. “How is my father, Kaylene? Has he ever married, to fill the void left there by so many things in his life?”
The sudden realization that Running Fawn wasn’t aware of her father’s death made Kaylene’s insides tighten and grow cold. Oh, how she dreaded having to tell her, but she must. Running Fawn had been deprived already of too much. She should not be deprived of knowing about her father’s death any longer.
“Your father, Running Fawn, is—”
She didn’t get the rest of the words out before Running Fawn gasped and paled. “I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice that you have no good news about my father,” she said, a sob lodging in her throat. “He is dead. My father is dead!”
“Yes, Black Hair is dead,” Kaylene said, her voice drawn.
Running Fawn began sobbing. She turned her eyes away from Kaylene, then turned slowly toward her again. “How?” she said, composing herself for the sake of her son. “How did my father die?”
Kaylene knew that telling her how Black Hair had died might even be worse than telling her that he was dead. “You don’t want to know,” she blurted out.
“I deserve to know,” Running Fawn said flatly. “I want to know.”
“He died shortly after you left the village,” Kaylene said softly. “No one knows who is truly responsible. They found him . . . hanging . . . from a tree. Someone hung him.”
Running Fawn was dying a slow death inside, but again for her child, kept her feelings to herself. “Please leave, Kaylene,” she said, her voice void of emotion. “I want to be alone with my son.”
“I’ll leave now, but I will be back,” Kaylene said, leaving a soft kiss on the child’s cheek. Her eyes looked into Running Fawn’s. “I’ve seen your son. Now I so badly want you to see mine.”
Running Fawn stared silently at Kaylene as she drifted toward the door.
“I will be back,” Kaylene said, then turned and ran from the cabin.
When she got outside, she broke into tears for the heartache that she had brought to Running Fawn. Now she regretted having found them. They seemed to have been living a life of peace and harmony.
“Now what should I truly do?” Kaylene whispered to herself as she turned and gave the cabin one last look before joining the other women. “Should I leave her alone? Or come back for her?”
Chapter 30
With tongues all sweet and low,
Like a pleasant rhyme,
They tell how much I owe
To thee and Time!
