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“Thank you, Thun—” she began, but was interrupted by him.
“And you need not thank me for every kindness I give you,” he said, his eyes dancing with quiet amusement. He nodded toward the entrance flap. “Let us go inside and make ourselves comfortable beside the fire. My shaman should be on his way here. He always comes quickly when I summon him.”
Feeling as though she were in a dream, afraid that she might wake up at any moment and find herself back at that shack, or worse yet, in her bedroom at her cousin’s house, with Reginald only a few footsteps away in the corridor, Jessie entered the lodge with Thunder Horse. She caught her breath at what she saw inside.
It was obviously a chief’s lodge, for everything she saw was of exceptionally fine workmanship. She gazed at a long, eagle-feathered staff, as well as a lance that was also adorned with eagle feathers. She saw magnificent bows and a quiver of arrows hanging from one of the support poles of the lodge. And there was a buffalo-hide shield with colorful drawings on it, which she thought were surely the symbols of a great warrior’s life.
But her eyes were taken from all this when Thunder Horse led her to a soft pallet of blankets beside a warm fire that was built into the ground and encircled by large stones.
One thing was certain: This was the lodge of a man. No woman’s belongings were anywhere to be seen. Surely Thunder Horse had no wife!
That thought caused a tingling in Jessie’s belly that was new to her. How deliciously sweet it was!
“Here is a blanket to warm you, too,” Thunder Horse said as she sat down. He placed a lovely blanket of fine blue wool, heavily and tastefully adorned with silk ribbons of various colors, around her shoulders.
She gazed up at him and almost said thank you again, but instead smiled when she saw him smiling at her as if he knew what she was about to do.
He knew how grateful she was for his change of heart.
Yet how could she ever really convey her gratitude? If he had not co
me for her, her entire future would be in doubt, as well as that of her unborn child.
Now perhaps she had a chance. If Thunder Horse allowed her to stay until she had her future mapped out for herself, she might be able to figure out a way to make a living for her and her child without having to return to Kansas.
Deep inside her heart she wished to stay with Thunder Horse, forever and ever. She had feelings for him that she had never felt before for any man, but she doubted he would allow it. His kindness would go only so far. She was white. She had seen a look of contempt in some of his people’s eyes and knew that to them she was one of the enemy, no different from the whites who had taken so much from them.
She would take this one day at a time and just be thankful she was no longer alone, frightened, and helpless. She would enjoy being with him for as long as she could remain.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Lone Wing entered the tepee, followed by a tall, gangly, elderly man wearing a robe of what she thought might be bear’s fur. His copper face was framed by long gray hair.
Jessie was relieved when she looked into his eyes and saw no contempt, but instead the same kindness that she found in Thunder Horse’s gaze.
She looked at the huge buckskin bag he set down beside himself as he knelt before her. “I am Hawk Dreamer,” he said in a deep voice, smiling. “I am the Fox band’s shaman. Lone Wing tells me that your hands need medicine. Let me see them. I will choose which medicine is best.”
Jessie removed her gloves, laid them across her lap, then held her hands out for Hawk Dreamer.
When he touched her during his examination, his hands were gentle. She smiled at Thunder Horse, who had sat down beside her, with Lone Wing on his right side, his eyes wide and anxious as he looked past his uncle at her.
At first, when she heard that a shaman would be doctoring her hands, she had been apprehensive, for she had heard about Indian medicine men. She had been told that many worked with black magic.
But thus far, the shaman had done nothing that seemed wrong. He was just a kind and gentle man who was trying to help her.
He let go of her hands and reached inside his bag. He took out two vials and set them on the floor beside her.
He gave Jessie a reassuring smile, then scooped out a white, creamy substance, which he gently rubbed into her fingers. Surprisingly, the pain faded more with each gentle rub.
When Hawk Dreamer drew his hands away from Jessie’s and returned the vials to the bag, she gazed in wonder at Thunder Horse.
He smiled and nodded at her, then looked at Hawk Dreamer, who had stood and was already walking toward the entrance flap. No words were exchanged between the chief and the shaman, for it was obvious to Jessie that words were not needed between these two. There seemed a connection between them that spoke of friendship, trust, and love.
Lone Wing came and knelt down beside Jessie as she gazed in wonder at her fingers and hands, which were still shiny from the cream.
“Do they feel better?” Lone Wing asked, his eyes wide as he looked into Jessie’s.
“Much,” Jessie said, smiling at Lone Wing. “But I think I should still wear the gloves, don’t you?”
She purposely brought him into the decision, for he seemed genuinely interested in her welfare.
