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Yes, it was possible that she had other parents out there, somewhere. Oh, so very, very possible.
Shaking such thoughts from her mind, as she had forced herself to do many times these past few days, Kaylene walked around the village, the large outdoor fire casting a golden glow on her face.
She usually took these walks with either Running Fawn or Little Sparrow.
This evening, she only walked with her panther. Little Sparrow had joined other children, who even now sat around the outdoor fire, while the village storyteller told fascinating stories of Indian lore. Little Sparrow always sat more closely to the storyteller, her eyes closely watching his lips.
In Little Sparrow’s sign language, that Kaylene was just learning how to interpret, Little Sparrow had explained to Kaylene that after the evening meal was the time when old legends of the Kickapoo were told. Little Sparrow had told Kaylene that she was always glad when the sun hung low in the west, knowing that soon she would be among the others, filled with anxiousness to know what the next story might be.
Little Sparrow had giggled when she had relayed to Kaylene that when the storyteller told stories during the winter months, when everyone was mor
e lethargic and lazy than in the summer, the listeners must constantly say, “Hi,” to show that they were awake and listening.
If any of them fell asleep, the storyteller would take a stick from the fire and touch them with it on one of their fingernails, to awaken them.
Kaylene could envision Little Sparrow with the others, her sweet face filled with wonder as she studied the storyteller’s lips, taking in all that he told them in the early evening.
And as for Running Fawn, Kaylene thought unhappily to herself, she had been disappearing more than not these past days. When Kaylene asked Running Fawn where she had been, or was going, Running Fawn would not answer her, only look mischievously into Kaylene’s eyes, smiling slowly.
Kaylene had surmised from this that Running Fawn was having trysts with young Mexican men. It was something that Running Fawn would not talk to Kaylene about.
Running Fawn had most definitely found something that she chose not to share with her new friend. And that satisfied Kaylene. She wanted no part in such secrets. If she knew, then she would also be a part of the deceit.
Making a slow turn, Kaylene moved back toward Fire Thunder’s lodge. Just looking at it in the distance made her heart take on a strange sort of beating. Since their last brief encounter, when Kaylene had pretended to be asleep when Fire Thunder had kissed her, he had not approached her again in such a way.
But she had caught him looking at her many times with that look in his eyes that told her that he hungered for her as much as she did him. It was something now that she could not deny to herself, that she would always love this man.
True, she was his prisoner, but more a prisoner of the heart now than any other kind.
As Kaylene walked past the various lodges, she smiled at the people who stepped to their doors to stare at her.
She melted inside when some actually returned her smile, as though just perhaps they were beginning to accept her as someone who meant them no harm.
None that she knew of had blamed her for Good Bear’s death. They surely understood that she had had no part in his being at the carnival just prior to him having killed himself. She was innocent except that she was her father’s daughter, and she was white of skin—to them, an enemy.
Strange, she thought to herself, how recently she had been feeling things inside herself that were new and confusing to her. The longer she was around these people, the more she felt a strange yearning.
It was as though in another lifetime she may have been an Indian.
She so hungered to know more of these people’s customs, to understand everything about them. She had the strong desire to join them when they sat around the evening fire and shared stories, songs, and dances.
But as too troubling to her, she brushed these thoughts aside.
She stared into the far distance, where the lowering evening sun was bronzing everything in its path. She looked at the longhorns grazing peacefully on the tall, sweet grass in the valley. She could see horsemen there and knew that Fire Thunder was among them.
Word had been received that one of the herd had disappeared. Fire Thunder had left immediately to check on things, to see how, or where, the hoofprints might lead.
A “mossy horn” was what Fire Thunder had called the lost longhorn, an older longhorn that had moss growing on its horns.
She turned to her left and walked to the far edge of the village, away from the lodges, to take the long way back to Fire Thunder’s lodge. While Midnight was with her, safely on his leash, she felt safe and strong enough to wander just a little bit farther than usual.
Her hair rustling around her shoulders in the gentle breeze, she walked casually through the blowing sea of knee-high grass. When she got near enough to the herd of longhorns, Kaylene was able to observe them more closely. The huge animals had surprisingly narrow hips and knobby knees that looked as though they could hardly support the three-foot long horns that gave them their name.
The horns were smooth and gleamed like varnished wood. Some wrinkled at the base, like the trunk of a gnarled, old tree.
On the butte tops, coyotes wailed, giving cause for Midnight to growl and strain against the leash.
“Midnight, it’s all right,” Kaylene murmured.
