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“She is a caring, understanding woman,” Brave Wolf said, reaching over to stroke the cat’s soft fur. “She would not want the cat to stay with her if the animal prefers you. She would want the cat to be happy.”
He ran his hand gently over the cat’s tummy. “And there soon will be kittens,” he said, smiling. “Mother can have her choice of . . . how did you call them?”
“The litter,” Mary Beth said, still stroking the beautiful animal. “Pure Heart can have her pick of the litter. Perhaps she can take more than one if that is her preference.”
“Then that should settle it,” Brave Wolf said. “That should make her happy enough.”
“How do I tell her?” Mary Beth said.
“I shall go and explain it to her,” Brave Wolf said.
“I truly hope she won’t be too sad over this,” Mary Beth said. “Yesterday she was so brave and courageous about accepting her loss all over again. She was even a part of our wedding ceremony, though I know that she was hurting deep inside herself.”
“My brother knew that it was best for him to leave, yet I regret the hurts he caused all over again,” Brave Wolf said, combing his fingers through his hair to straighten out its morning tangles. “My mother is not doing as well as Dancing Butterfly. She carries her hurts more deeply. I understood why she went back to the privacy of her lodge immediately after our wedding vows were spoken. Did you understand, as well?”
“Yes, very much so,” Mary Beth said, sighing. “She has lost her son again. I lost mine only once. I would hate to think of the heartbreak if I had him back and then he suddenly disappeared again. As it is, both your mother and I carry empty spaces inside our hearts over such grievous losses.”
“Brother?”
The voice brought both Mary Beth and Brave Wolf quickly to their feet. Mary Beth clung to the cat as she hurried to the entrance flap beside Brave Wolf.
Her eyes widened when she saw Night Horse standing there, and not alone!
She recognized the man who was tied up and whose eye was swollen shut and bloody.
“Blackjack Tom,” Mary Beth gasped out, stunned.
“Night Horse, who is this?” Brave Wolf asked, stepping out of the tepee with Mary Beth beside him.
“My brother, when I left yesterday, I planned to stay away, but I could not,” Night Horse said, his voice full of emotion. “I kept thinking about the hurts that I was again leaving behind. Yet I saw the strain I put on everybody when the soldiers came. H
ad they known I was here, things would have been different. The soldiers might not have helped you, but instead seen you as an enemy because you were harboring a man they now suspect. I thought everyone would be better off without me, but my heart would not allow me to stay away. My woman . . . my mother . . . my brother . . . my people seemed to call to me. I had to return. I shall face all questions, either from whites or my brethren, and pay whatever price I must pay, but I am tired of causing hurts by disappearing.”
He gave Blackjack Tom a shove, causing him to fall on his knees.
The man with the beady black eyes looked humbly up at Night Horse, then lowered his eyes to the ground.
“This man, whom I know as Blackjack Tom from my acquaintance with the white pony soldiers, was lurking directly behind your lodge, my brother,” Night Horse said venomously. “He had a knife. Had I not come along when I did, I believe he would have entered your lodge from the back by slicing his way through the skins. I did not know why he would do this, or whom he planned to kill, until I forced answers from him.”
“And what did he say?” Mary Beth asked, her voice breaking, for in her mind’s eye she was reliving that night all over again, how the dark shadow of the man loomed over her as his hands tightened around her throat!
“He said nothing at first, but when I placed his own knife at his throat, he spoke loudly and clearly of wanting to kill you, Mary Beth, and then my brother Brave Wolf,” Night Horse said, his voice tight. “When I heard his plan, I could not help hitting him.”
“After I gave him information, he shouldn’t have hit me,” Blackjack Tom whined.
“He should have done worse than that,” Mary Beth said angrily. “You are a filthy, cold-hearted man. You are a coward, for only a coward would enter a woman’s room at night with plans to kill her. I am so glad that Night Horse found you. I hope you hang.”
She looked at Brave Wolf. “You will take him to Fort Hope, won’t you?” Mary Beth asked softly. “Colonel Anderson will see to it that he gets what he deserves. I . . . I . . . don’t think you should take on the responsibility of doing anything, yourself. If word spread that you did something to a white soldier, even though he deserted his post and is wanted by all of the United States cavalry, the government would not take kindly to your handing down his punishment.”
“I do plan to take him to Colonel Anderson,” Brave Wolf said thickly. “And he will want to know how Blackjack Tom was captured. Night Horse, what shall I say? You are still in danger of being hunted by the white pony soldiers, for they will want to question you about your role in Yellow Hair’s defeat.”
“I thought all of that through and I believe it is my duty to go and tell everything to Colonel Anderson,” Night Horse said, his chin lifted proudly. “I know that you think Colonel Anderson is a good, wise man. I will take the chance that he will believe my story, and if he does, I will be free to return to my people, if they still want me.”
“You are wanted, my son, by all who know you and have always loved you,” Pure Heart said as she came shakily toward Night Horse. “I heard your voice, my son. At first I thought your voice was coming to me in a dream. When I fully awakened and looked outside and saw you, I knew that my prayers to the First Maker had been answered.”
She flung herself into Night Horse’s arms. “My son, my son, please do not leave me ever again,” she sobbed out. “It gets harder each time. I felt as though my life was slipping away when I saw you were gone again.”
“Ina, I am sorry that I caused you pain again,” Night Horse said, gently stroking her thin, old back through her doeskin robe. “I have returned, but I must leave again to speak with Colonel Anderson as I deliver the captive to him. If Colonel Anderson believes me when I say that I had nothing to do with the attack on General Custer, and he tells me I am a free man, I will come home again. This time I will stay. I want to join the next hunt and bring much meat home for your plate. I want to be there for you always, Mother.”
