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Chapter Seven
The day was bright and filled with a soft wind as Thunder Horse rode on his sorrel horse beside his nephew Lone Wing. He was constantly impressed by the boy’s growth; he seemed to have the spirit and skills of someone twice his age.
There was no true purpose for their excursion today except for Lone Wing to develop his skills on his palomino pony. One day, when he was a warrior full grown, he would ride a horse as powerful as Thunder Horse’s muscled steed.
As they rode onward, and turned past a thick stand of tall ponderosa pines, Thunder Horse’s eyes were drawn ahead to someone kneeling beside a granite stone that his people worshiped with prayers and offerings.
It was a woman!
One of her gloved hands was clutching the reins of a brilliantly white horse, which stood behind her, lazily munching oat grass.
When Thunder Horse realized who this person was, his heart skipped a beat. Her hair was flame-red beneath the rays of the early afternoon sun, and her tininess was even more pronounced in what appeared to be riding clothes—a white blouse, a leather skirt, and leather boots.
Ho, it was the same woman who had unknowingly lured him to Reginald Vineyard’s ranch house last night, to observe her as she mingled with the crowd of white people.
While horseback riding today, she had discovered the stone that was sacred to Thunder Horse’s people.
Lone Wing saw Thunder Horse slow his steed to a trot and followed his uncle’s lead. Then he noticed the path his uncle’s eyes had taken and saw what . . . who . . . Thunder Horse was looking at so intently.
A mitawin, a white woman!
Lone Wing’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“You are looking at this woman as though you know her,” Lone Wing said, edging his pony closer to Thunder’s Horse’s steed. “Who is she? Why is she kneeling beside the sacred stone of our people? Do whites worship it, too? Do some whites have the same beliefs as we Sioux have? And . . . why are you looking at this mitawin with such . . . such . . .”
Lone Wing didn’t finish his question, for he was not certain that he should.
Yet his curiosity remained. His uncle had chosen not to allow a woman into his life while he had so many troubles on his mind about his people and his ailing father.
Thunder Horse glanced quickly at Lone Wing. As they drew rein, Thunder Horse felt a little unnerved that his nephew had caught him gazing with such fascination at this woman.
Since Thunder Horse wasn’t certain why he could not let go of Jessie in his mind, or his heart, he knew that it would be hard for him to explain this attraction to anyone else. So he chose to ignore part of his nephew’s question.
“No, Lone Wing, no whites have the same beliefs as we Sioux,” he said. “This woman has surely been drawn here out of curiosity.”
“What are you going to do about her?” Lone Wing asked. “Are you going to order her away, or let her remain here?”
Thunder Horse didn’t respond right away. He still gazed at Jessie, aware that she had not heard their approach.
She seemed caught up in studying what lay at the foot of the stone. He understood that to a white woman, the objects lying there would be curious.
He was glad that she had not reached out to touch anything that had been placed there by his people. He found her respect for his people’s beliefs commendable.
“What will you do about her being here, where she does not belong?” Lone Wing asked again, surprised when his uncle’s only
response was to sink his heels into the flanks of his steed and ride onward toward the woman.
Lone Wing caught up with him. “Will you allow her to remain, or order her away?” he prodded.
“Neither,” Thunder Horse finally said, looking over at Lone Wing. “We will go and speak with her, then allow her to do as she pleases. Stay or go. It is apparent that she means no harm.”
Jessie’s insides tightened when she became aware of approaching horses. She had been so caught up in studying what lay around the stone, and the stone itself, that she had not heard the horses earlier.
She knew they were very close now, and she could not help being suddenly afraid. She was alone and someplace she obviously shouldn’t be, especially if these were Sioux warriors riding toward her.
She rushed to her feet.
When she turned and saw who was approaching, her pulse raced. Thunder Horse was riding toward her on a lovely steed with a teenage boy on a pony close beside him.
