"What did your father do for a living?"
Willa smiled in reflection, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "My father was an eternal drifter. Almost like our tribe. He searched for gold in California. He worked on cattle drives. He even trapped a few times. My mother said he must have been born under a wandering star. He just couldn't stay still long, at least that was what my mother told me. She talked about him a lot, so I knew him through her words. When I met him this time, I was shocked, he looked older than I ever remembered. He must have had a lot of hard days in his life. He could read and write, and he sent her letters. But my mother could not read, so when we would go into a white village, she would ask a lady if she would read his letter to her. She kept all his letters. Still, she loved him dearly even to the end of her life. And he didn't come complaining either, when he came back. He loved the freedom of his life and he loved her for understanding the need of it."
"At least you got to know him a little before he died." Charlie said.
"Yes, I am glad. I suspect he was a very good man. He told me he never loved another woman, but my mother."
"Love like that don't come but once," Charlie commented.
"Yes, I
believe that too." She smiled. "No matter how much she missed him, she was never angry with him."
Charlie and Clay went back outside to finish up their work for the day. Willa made a roast with wild onions and what she could find of carrots in the garden. She made a cornbread too.
She couldn't wait to get outside and work in the garden, it was sadly lacking, but she knew with soil like this, she could grow anything.
When the men came in, they sniffed. "Smells mighty good." Charlie sighed as he washed up.
"It will be ready soon," she said. "I want you to know I will work, right along side you both, as you have given me and my child a home. A chance to make some kind of life. I will do my best to be worthy of it. And if necessary, I will fight alongside you too."
"Our home ain't fancy Willa, but it is home." Charlie smiled.
"A home, a real home does not have to be grand, but it should be warm and friendly, comforting."
"It's not grand by any means, but it is warm and friendly and comforting." Charlie smiled.
"I like it. An Indian lives in a temporary home all his life, moving about, but he also finds it comforting. But in an Indian home it is the woman who makes it so, not the man." She smiled.
"I think a woman makes any home more comforting." Charlie chuckled.
Charlie and Clay nodded.
After she set the table, she went to change the baby and brought him to the table with her.
She fed her baby as always first, He smacked his lips and went to sleep. She went to lay him down.
"Looks like he has a good appetite." Clay smiled.
From that day forward Willa became part of their family. She never complained of the work, but when she finished her chores, she would join them outside to help with feeding the animals and it made things easier for Clay and Charlie. She carried her baby Indian style on her back on a cradle board and he was very happy to be outside, for he smiled all the time.
Clay had a small herd of cattle, they had a milk cow, some chickens and a mule, and two horses. Willa could see that all the animals were well taken care of.
Things were peaceful and quiet as they were a good twenty miles from town. They seldom had visitors, and many times they were only travelers.
Then a couple of weeks later, the Indians came again, Charlie went out to talk to them.
"We want the child." The young warrior insisted. He was painted up, and his face held no room for a smile. "He is grandson of our chief."
"Sorry, he stays with his mother." Charlie told them firmly. "She still nurses him."
"He is flesh of my flesh." An old man among them looked at Charlie and he knew he was looking at the chief himself.
"Maybe, but a baby belongs with his mother. She still nurses him. Don't you understand."
"We will take him…"
"She'd die rather than give him up."