“What a day you’ve had. You must be absolutely exhausted.” Ella moved the pail closer to him. “Here you are, in case you get thirsty later. I…I’ll be going now, I suppose. Do sleep well.”
Raven yawned again and closed his eyes. “Please. Be safe, itka.”
“Don’t worry. I will. And I’ll come as soon as possible in the morning. After I finish my chores.” She let out a laugh. “Sukie will be good and cranky by then. Good night.”
“Mmm. Night,” Raven murmured, his eyes still shut. “I wish you could send me a signal. That you reached your home safely.”
Ella’s heart ached. He truly was worried about her. “Trust me, Raven.” She reached out and smoothed his hair. Tangled though it was, its silkiness caught on her calloused fingers. “I’ll be fine. Until tomorrow.” She rose and left the dugout.
Heading toward her cabin, Ella whirled around and inhaled the fresh mountain air. She missed Minnesota, but she couldn’t deny the Black Hills held a certain magic and mystery. The way the flowers bloomed in what appeared to be fairy rings. The way deciduous and evergreen trees grew side by side in the woods and foothills, as though east were truly meeting west. The sun had set, and the full moon rose and cast its glow over her family’s small homestead. She strolled languidly and then reversed her path, deciding to take one of her favored walks. She inhaled again, and the fresh scent of pine tingled in her nose.
Yes, Minnesota was still home, but the Black Hills… They fascinated her. They could be a place of peace and beauty, a wonderful area to make a home for her family, if only the greedy and lecherous gold diggers weren’t here.
In the faint distance, the drumming of the Indians thumped. Medium paced, it was a happy sound. Not the terrifying war-like beat she’d heard while picking berries. She wondered if Raven heard it. No doubt he was fast asleep by now.
Ella walked along the edge of the woods that framed her father’s land and imagined how her life would be if only circumstances were different. She’d be in Minnesota, perhaps married by now.
But when she visualized her husband, it wasn’t Andrew’s coolly handsome visage she saw.
No.
It was a perfectly sculpted face, carved out of hauntingly beautiful bronze.
* * *
“Raven has not returned.” Wandering Bear faced his father, Standing Elk.
“Indeed. How long has he been gone?”
“He left at sun up, to trade with the white men and then to search out herbs for Summer Breeze.”
“I see.” Standing Elk raised his pipe to his lips. “My older son is brave. And resourceful. Wherever he is, I am sure he is safe.”
“I fear for him. The white men, they fear what they do not understand. I have begged you, honored Father, to send me to trade with them. They will not see me as a threat because I am one of them.”
“Bah! You are Lakota now. No more white eyes.”
“Yes. I am Lakota. Your ways are mine. But still, I look like them.”
“With hair below your waist?” Standing Elk guffawed. “I do not think so.”
“I will cut my hair.”
“No.”
“But I am willing. It is the best way to see to our needs and keep our people safe at the same time.”
Bear gazed into his father’s stoic face, wrinkled by the passage of time. The young warrior remembered little of his time with the white men, but he did remember their fear. And their blood-thirsty ways. He worried every time Raven left camp to trade with them. But as he was the older son of Standing Elk, the duty fell to him.
“Singing Dove cried herself to
sleep when he didn’t return. And Summer Breeze still frets inside the lodge.”
Standing Elk’s gaze softened, slightly, at the mention of his daughter and his wife. “You are a good son to worry of your sister and mother. Had you come from my own loins, I would not be more proud.”
“Dancing Doe came by earlier looking for Raven. She still hopes he will take her to wife.”
“Your brother does not love Dancing Doe.”