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It seemed strange that she was actually living that dream, only now it was filled with too much grief to be anything like her girlish fantasies.
She had thought when she’d met Earl that he might be her only chance of seeing what the West was truly like. When he had come to her home to visit her father with talk of business affairs, she had heard him mention that he had a dream of one day moving out West. At those words, she had been instantly intrigued by him.
She had willingly accepted his first invitation to go to dinner . . . and there it had begun.
Just the thought of being free and moving to a new land with a new husband had been so exciting, Shirleen had sometimes felt sick to her stomach. In those days, excitement had caused her body to react in such a way.
Now?
She had not had anything to get excited about for some time, except for when she had started planning her escape with her daughter.
Of course, fear had been mixed in with that excitement, for she had never been on her own under any circumstances.
She had never been the master of her own destiny.
Not even now, unless what the young chief said was true, and that she could leave when she felt strong enough to do so.
As it was now, when she tried to stand, she got dizzy.
But otherwise, she felt much better. She had been cared for so gently by the shaman, and had been given such a nice, soft gown to wear, since her own clothes had been ruined by all the blood.
The aroma of the food cooking over the fire made her belly suddenly growl. Trusting that the food in the pot over the fire was edible, even if the ingredients might be strange to her, she grabbed the empty wooden bowl and reached for the ladle that rested in the food.
Though she did not recognize any of the vegetables, or know what kind of meat floated amid them, she ladled a bowl full. Then she sat back down and grabbed up a spoon that had also been brought to her, and ate ravenously.
She didn’t stop until a surprising visitor appeared at the entrance to her tepee. She was stunned to see that it was a white woman who wore a beautifully beaded doeskin dress and matching moccasins, her long, blond hair worn in a lone braid down her back.
“I have come to talk with you. May I enter?” the woman asked, questioning Shirleen with her eyes.
“Yes, I guess so,” Shirleen mumbled, her eyes widening as the woman came and sat down beside her.
Shirleen was astonished to see another white woman in the Assiniboine village. This woman seemed content to be dressed as an Indian squaw, and was evidently allowed to come and go as she pleased.
A sudden disturbing thought came to Shirleen. She had heard about powerful Indian chiefs taking white women as wives; could this woman be Chief Blue Thunder’s wife?
But she just could not imagine those two together. The woman was older and not all that pretty. She was big–boned and fleshy.
“I am Speckled Fawn,” the other woman said, smiling at Shirleen. “I see that you are surprised to see another white woman in this village. I’m sure you are wondering why I am here.”
No longer hungry for food, but instead for information, Shirleen set her half-empty bowl aside. “Yes, I do want to know who you are,” she said guardedly as she gazed into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. They were even bluer than her husband’s and her daughter’s. “Why are you here? Clearly you are no captive, for you are free to come and go as you please.”
Shirleen leaned toward the woman. “Why have you come to see me? Were you made to come and talk with me?” she blurted out. “Is it a part of the young chief’s ploy to make me feel more at ease among his people?”
“Chief Blue Thunder is not a scheming man,” Speckled Fawn said softly. “He is perhaps the kindest man I have ever known.”
“Are you . . . his . . . wife?” Shirleen blurted out. As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she hadn’t asked the woman such a question. The last thing she wanted to do was betray her keen interest in the handsome chief.
“I am married to an Indian of this village, but not to Blue Thunder,” Speckled Fawn said.
“Blue Thunder has no wife,” Speckled Fawn went on. “He did, but . . .”
Not wanting to think of the woman who’d been so kind to her, and who was now dead bec
ause of the renegades, Speckled Fawn quickly changed the subject.
“I have come here to assure you that you are among friends,” Speckled Fawn said. “These people are of the Assiniboine tribe. You are very fortunate to have been rescued by them, as was I.”
“You . . . too . . . ?” Shirleen asked, her eyes widening.
