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"That's too long for a first name, I'll just call you Moon."
He smiled, "And your name?"
"Melissa."
"I will call you Lissa, then."
She smiled back. "I like that. No one's called me that before. I should thank you." she said becoming breathless from the quick maneuvering over an uneven terrain. There was so much brush and branches about. She stumbled several times. "I don’t understand why you protected me. You don’t even know me. And you must have known it would put you in a perilous position."
He stopped for a minute. "You are a woman. You were in trouble. It is a man's job to save a woman when she is in trouble, is it not?"
"I don't know anyone that would have butted into that, this morning. And you being an Indian, I don't understand why you did. You had to have thought about it, before you acted."
"Some things are done because they must be done, it has no reasoning to it. I suppose you could say I simply reacted to your cry for help."
"It is strange. My father would not be fair in his judgement. Even though he worked with the Indians for a long time. He'd condemn me as a whore and you as a murderer without regard."
He stopped for a second and glanced at her.
"I would never have come forward, but this Earl was pushing you into something you did not want. I felt I must stop him. I could not watch and let him take you."
"Why did you care?" she asked, stopping for a moment to get a breath. "That's what makes no sense to me. I am a stranger, and a white even. Perhaps if I were Indian, I could understand it. But you had to have known it would put you in a world of trouble."
"Sometimes we do not weigh the trouble, against what is happening. There is no time. I suppose you did not realize how clear you made it to this man that you did not want his attentions. I saw you struggling to fight him off. I would not have been much of a man to let you scream and him take you."
"I've made it clear to Earl many times, but this time he was a bit more forceful. He was hungover, and in a nasty mood. But if that's why you did it, it's quite honorable."
He smiled sardonically, "Yes, I noticed that. He smelled of whiskey."
He took her hand and pulled her along.
Wanting to forget what had happened, she changed the subject. "I haven't even asked. Who are you? Where do you come from? You speak English very well for an Indian," she glanced at him again.
"Thank you," he smiled over his shoulder, "an old miner named Jack taught me. Him and the mission schools. I was eager to learn the English language. I read the entire bible and I loved it. There were so many battles and lessons to learn inside it. I could not put it down." He said gripping her hand tighter and pulling her. They went through a clump of brush with nettles on them and she shrieked as it tore more of her dress. Then he stopped once more for another drink of water. She took the canteen and drank her fill, it was cold and refreshing.
"Really, he taught you well. So, where does this old miner live?" She asked as she found a big rock to sit on and rest.
"In the rocky hills."
"Is he a gold miner?" she asked out of curiosity.
"Yes, he is."
"How did you come to know him?"
"You ask a lot of questions." He shot her a frown.
"I'm sorry, just naturally curious. Besides, talking makes our journey more interesting."
He stopped looked at her and shrugged. "I mistakenly shot Jack with an arrow once, nearly killed him." When she looked puzzled, he went on to explain, "He was moving about in the woods, and I mistook him for a deer. I shot him and went to get him and found he was an old timer. I nursed him back to health and we became friends."
"You shot him, and then you became friends," she chuckled.
"With an arrow, not a gun, it was not intentional."
"And he forgave you?"
"Yes, as I nursed him back to health, and then he realized he liked me. We've been friends and partners ever since."
