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“Your son neglected his duties to my sister,” Fire Thunder said, his voice gentle, yet firm. “But, no, I do not blame him to the extent that I do not still care for his welfare. I shall soon get a search party together. We shall try and find Good Bear.”
Gentle Song wrenched herself free of her husband’s embrace and reached for Fire Thunder’s hand. “Thank you,” she murmured, clasping it. “I knew that you would not want the worst for our son.” Her gaze went to Kaylene.
Kaylene looked back at her, then turned her eyes away when she saw the anguish in the depths of the woman’s eyes. She had seen it many times before when parents had come to the carnival to look for their runaway children. She recalled that her father had hid the children from these parents.
At the time, she had thought that the children had come willingly to him, to be a part of the excitement of the carnival.
She now began to wonder how wrong she might have been. Could this Kickapoo boy who was missing be back at the carnival even now, forever a part of their long journeys?
She brushed this thought aside. She did not want to believe that her father had forced the carnival life upon any children.
No, to think that would be the worst thing to think about her father, a father who was now surely dead and alone, without anyone there to bury him . . . to say words from the Bible over him. . . .
Fire Thunder eased his hand from Gentle Song’s and rode onward through the village until he came to a larger log cabin at the far end, where a stream wove like a white snake behind it.
Kaylene’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at it, thinking that in her dreams, since she was a child, she had seen herself in such a cabin as a wife, a mother, ah, with the stability she had so hungered for all of her life.
She was impressed by its size in comparison to the other lodges in the village.
But she had to remember that this man was chief and would have the best.
Again she longed not to hold a grudge against this man. He had so much to offer a woman. If only she could be that woman, she thought unhappily to herself.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young woman rush between the lodges, her eyes wide as she took quick glances at Kaylene.
Running Fawn had entered the village just in time, after having awakened and found herself in a half-drunken stupor at the far edge of the village.
Pedro must have left her there.
She felt lucky that she had awakened before her father had arrived and found her gone. Her father would have known that she had been gone the long night through.
Her tongue felt thick, and her head ached. But she did not want to go immediately to her lodge. She was intrigued by the white woman on Fire Thunder’s horse.
She was young and beautiful. She was ravishing.
But there was something quite peculiar about her being with Fire Thunder. Was she his captive?
But surely not. Fire Thunder had not brought captives home, ever. And the woman was wounded.
Running Fawn stood in the shadows of a lodge and watched as Fire Thunder lifted Kaylene from the horse.
She shifted her gaze and watched her father take Little Sparrow from his saddle.
Her eyebrow lifted when Running Fawn saw Little Sparrow run to Kaylene, take her hand, and look up at her as though she adored her.
Then Running Fawn frowned when Fire Thunder ushered both the stranger and his sister into his lodge, Running Fawn’s father taking the horses to the corral.
Running Fawn turned around and ran to her lodge. She quickly slipped her soiled dress over her head, and dressed quickly in a flounced skirt and a loose overblouse of printed cotton.
She stepped outside and was brushing her hair just as her father came toward her.
Black Hair sighed when he caught sight of his daughter standing there so innocent, so lovely. Perhaps she had obeyed him this time, he thought to himself, and had not sneaked off to be with the young Mexican men.
When he reached her, she faked a bout of coughing, to keep him from hugging her. If he got too close, she knew for certain that he would smell the stench of the tequila that she had consumed the previous night.
Black Hair walked past her, into the lodge. He laid sticks on the fire in the fireplace.
He glanced over his shoulder when Running Fawn came back inside the lodge, her black hair glistening.
