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They returned to the village to mourn and prepare the dead for burial. The preparations had to be quick, with solemn, hurried ceremonies.
Lone Wing knew that he had duties to perform, those of his people’s Historian. His first assignment was to record on buckskin what had happened today to those beloved people who would no longer hear the laughter of the young, who could no longer smoke their long-stemmed pipes as they sat around the fires of their people.
It was a bad day, one that no one would ever forget.
Later, after the burials, while final preparations were being made for the long journey ahead, Thunder Horse came to Jessie and embraced her. “I have one more thing to do before leaving for the Dakotas,” he said tightly. “I must make the outlaws who murdered my people pay for their deed.”
Although Jessie would like nothing more than to know that the man who’d killed her father and so many others was dead, she was afraid for Thunder Horse to go.
She was afraid that he wouldn’t return!
“Please don’t go,” she said, her voice breaking as she gazed into his eyes. “Let it alone. Reginald, the one who set everything in motion, is dead. Were it not for him, those who died today would not have died.”
“It must be done,” Thunder Horse said, his eyes narrowing. “I cannot let my people down again, or I will feel I am not worthy of being their chief.”
Trying to understand, Jessie moved tenderly into Thunder Horse’s embrace. “If I lost you, I would not want to live,” she sobbed. “Please, oh, please come back to me . . . come back to your people.”
“I have many reasons to come back, so I assure you that I will,” Thunder Horse said. He stepped away from her and joined his warriors, who were streaking their faces and bare chests with black paint . . . black, the color used for warring!
Chapter Twenty-nine
Jessie was trying to be brave as she waited for Thunder Horse’s return, but she couldn’t help being terribly afraid for him. Bulldog Jones was one of the worst, most notorious outlaws in history.
Though her father had been linked with Bulldog Jones, he had convinced her that he had been a very different kind of outlaw. He had told her, after she’d heard about his past, that he had tried to use his skills with his gun to do good.
He had said that was why Bulldog Jones had eventually gunned him down. After his separation from her father, the notorious outlaw had realized that all along Two Guns Pete had been duping him. Though he had pretended to be vicious in front of Bulldog Jones, in truth he had helped the families who were affected by Bulldog Jones’s reign of terror.
Of course, Jessie had not known if that tale was true or not. It was possible her father had made up the story of being a “good outlaw” in order to save face with her.
The fact remained that it was Bulldog Jones who’d killed her father and mother. She would never know for certain what had motivated him to kill her parents, or just what had transpired between him and her father.
And now, her beloved Thunder Horse, the man she wanted to live out her life with, was going up against the same red-whiskered villain who had claimed her parents’ lives. She couldn’t help being afraid that Bulldog Jones would get the best of Thunder Horse and his warriors.
“I can tell by the look in your eyes that you are afraid for my uncle,” Lone Wing said as he came to sit next to her.
Jade and Lee-Lee were napping before the start of the long journey. Sweet Willow and many of Thunder Horse’s people were also resting.
Everything was packed on horses and travois, awaiting Thunder Horse’s return. As soon as he and the warriors arrived home, the journey would begin.
“Jessie?”
Lone Wing’s voice brought her out of her reverie. “I’m sorry, Lone Wing,” she murmured. “What did you say?”
“I came to reassure you about my uncle and those who ride with him today,” he said softly, so as not to awaken those who slept. “No one can best him, not even the most notorious of outlaws.”
“But Thunder Horse isn’t a warring chief,” Jessie said, swallowing hard.
“That is true,” Lone Wing said. “But that does not mean he is not skilled enough to war against his enemies. He was taught those skills early in life.”
He reached over and took one of her hands in his. “He will return soon, victorious over evil,” he said softly. “And then we will leave for our new life in a new country.”
“Do you dread living on a reservation?” Jessie asked, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his hand in hers.
“No one wishes to be penned in,” Lone Wing said with the voice of a man. “But our people, the Sioux, have learned well the art of a
dapting. So shall we now.”
“Now that you are your people’s Historian, you have much to write, don’t you?” Jessie said somberly.
