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Brave Wolf would keep sending his prayers to the First Maker that what he feared would not come to pass.
He bit off a piece of meat and looked again at Mary Beth as she spoke.
“How did the council go today?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
“My warriors listened well to what I had to say about Night Horse, and agreed to what I have done,” Brave Wolf said, looking sad as he gazed into the fire.
“Perhaps they agreed because he was once loved so much among your people,” Mary Beth said softly. She smiled when that brought Brave Wolf’s eyes back to her. “How could he not have been the sort of man who would be loved? Is he not your brother? Was he not like you in many ways before he chose the wrong life path? You have spoken of how it was between you when you were growing up. You had such devotion to one another. Surely everyone saw and admired the same goodness in Night Horse as in you, his brother.”
“You are wise to see such a truth, because it was that way,” Brave Wolf said. “Everyone did admire my brother as I admired and loved him.”
“What happened to make him want a different life from yours when he grew into a man?” Mary Beth asked warily. She was afraid that she might be asking too many questions.
But it was so good to have this gentle time of camaraderie with Brave Wolf. It helped make her forget how much she wanted him to hold her . . . to kiss her.
She ached for his touch and was weakening in her defenses. If he came to her even now and held her and again asked her if he could kiss her, she knew that she would not deny him.
The longer she was with him, the more she doubted she could follow the rules that forbade her from loving him. She had lost so much in her life . . . oh, Lord, she did not want to give up this wonderful man, too.
“What happened?” Brave Wolf repeated, sighing. “Night Horse saw the power of the white man’s guns. He saw their riches. He saw the chance to have what whites had. Greed, greed for what he should not have wanted—that was why my brother became my enemy, for he is my enemy.”
Again he sighed. “My brother, the enemy,” he repeated, drawing his fingers through his hair in frustration. “How can . . . that . . . be?”
“In life there are so many things that make no sense,” Mary Beth said, her voice breaking. “My son. How can he have been taken from me? Where is he?”
Hearing her sorrow, her frustration, her sadness, Brave Wolf pushed the plate of meat away and moved to Mary Beth’s side.
Without even considering being rejected again, he wrapped his arms around Mary Beth and brought her close to him.
Mary Beth melted in his arms. She nestled close.
“This feels so wonderful,” she murmured. “So right.”
Brave Wolf’s heart soared at those words. His heart drummed inside him.
But he didn’t dare spoil the moment by trying to kiss her again.
He would relish this moment, and hope to go further than a hug soon. For now, it was enough that she allowed his comforting arms around her. He was stunned, when a moment later, she pulled free of him again. Turning her back to him, she had her face in her hands and softly sobbed.
Believing that her reaction to their embrace had nothing to do with him, yet worrying about it and needing answers, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her. He framed her face between his hands and even more gently lifted it so that their eyes met.
He didn’t question her with words. His eyes said it all.
“Please never think that my behavior is because of you,” she said through a blur of tears. “What I said earlier about your embrace feeling so right is truly how I feel, but . . .”
“But?” he asked softly.
“I feel so much guilt,” she gulped out
.
“Guilt over having feelings for me, a red man?”
“No, oh no, please don’t think that.”
“Then what causes this guilt?”
“I cannot stop thinking that if I had not left Kentucky, which is my home, my husband would still be alive,” she said, her voice breaking. “For certain my son would not be in the hands of murderous renegades. I . . . made . . . the wrong decision. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
