Page 9 of Morning Dove

He still had not shaved, a light dusting of whiskers shadowing his jaw only adding to his appeal, but his face was still bruised and it looked worse today than it had the last time she had seen him. “How do you feel?”

“Perfectly content now that you’re here.” He grinned and glanced back toward the crowd that had gathered. “Why aren’t you over there enjoying the party?”

She turned and leaned back against the fence. As silly as it was, it was easier to talk to him if she did not look at him. “I can be ignored over here as well as I can over there.”

“You’re not ignored here.” He bumped her shoulder with his elbow. “Hey, did you bring my cookies?”

Her heart clenched. “Yes, I brought them.”

“Aaron hasn’t gotten into them, has he?”

She smiled and turned to look at him. “No. I made him a separate batch.”

“Good. I don’t like sharing.” He stared at her until the shyness she usually felt around him made her duck her head.

They both watched those at the party for long minutes in silence. Ben broke it by laughing at a group of men not far from them who were taking turns running while the others tried to lasso them. “I’m surprised Aaron isn’t over there.”

“He is with Samuel.”

Morning Dove turned back to the pasture. As nervous as he made her, she had to admit she enjoyed looking at him, even if it was only stolen glances when he was not watching her.

She turned her attention to the horses grazing behind Ben. Cash had wandered a few feet away to where a lone, painted mare stood. Memories flooded her mind at the sight of her and before she could think better of it, blurted, “When I was a child, my father had a horse that looked similar to her.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, watching the mare. “He was called Star Dancer. When there were big gatherings at night, he would rear up when the music was loud and it looked as if he were dancing.”

Ben clicked his tongue, and Cash lifted his head before walking toward them. The mare followed. Morning Dove reached across the fence and rubbed her head when she was close enough.

“Does your father still have him?”

A stab of pain in the center of her chest made it hard to breathe. She inhaled a few breaths before shaking her head. “No. He walks with the spirits.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It was a very long time ago.” Not long enough for the pain to lessen. “I was but a child when Walter killed…” Her hand fell from the horse and she grabbed the railing with both hands as the memories started to overwhelm her.

She looked toward the mountains as images of the day her family died started filling her mind. The dull ache grew until a stab of pain so intense hit her, she thought she would be sick.

She should not have mentioned her family. Aaron knew very little about her life and she preferred it that way, so why was she telling Ben? They rarely ever spoke. She avoided him more often than not, yet felt compelled to make some sort of connection with him, as useless as it was.

Something touched her cheek. A feather-soft caress that drew her eyes open. Ben was standing in front of her, his arms caging her in on the fence and blocking the light from the sun.

“How old were you?”

She hesitated in answering before saying, “Eleven.”

“And Walter killed him and kept you?”

She nodded, still not sure why she was telling him. “Yes. He killed my mother and brother as well.” She shook off the melancholy trying to take hold and stared at the mare. I was with Walter for fourteen years before Aaron took me away. He told anyone who saw me I was his wife.” Bitter resentment filled her with a newfound hatred for the man. “He was cruel and foul and what he…”

The painted mare stuck her head over the fence, butting in between her and Ben. Morning Dove was happy for the distraction and laughed when the mare grabbed a small section of her hair and pulled. It lightened the mood and made the heaviness in her heart feel lighter. Besides, telling Ben about her past may have him running the other way, and even though she would never tell another soul, she enjoyed his undivided attention.

Morning Dove’s laughter at the horse nibbling on her hair sounded like music to Ben. It chased away the shadows that had been gathering in her eyes.

He pushed the mare’s head away when it looked as if she was going in for a second taste of Morning Dove’s hair. “Hey now. I was talking to her first. Go pester Cash.”

The horse ambled away, and Morning Dove watched her go. “My tribe had many horses. More than even this.”

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