Home by Morning (27 page)

“Perhaps.” Linking her arm through his, she steered him toward the house, the puppy following behind. “I'll miss her, though. She was a lovely lady.”

“Your friends are happy that Maddie Wallace returns in a few days?”

“Ecstatic. Although with Helen Bradshaw gone, Luce will be shorthanded for the big welcome-home celebration. And anyway”—she smiled and bumped her shoulder against his—“they're your friends, too.”

He nodded absently, an idea forming.

“I can't believe it's been almost two years since the four of us came to Heartbreak Creek,” Prudence went on. “Now all of us are married, and Edwina, and Lucinda, and Maddie all have babies, and . . .” Her voice trailed off. She blinked hard, then put on a false smile that did not hide the sorrow in her eyes. “It will be so nice to be together again.”

He stopped and turned to her. “Go with me to the sacred pool,
Eho'nehevehohtse.
”

“The mineral spring? Now?”

“Tonight. Soon the workers will begin on the big hotel Tait and Ethan Hardesty are building. They will cut down the trees, and clear the slopes and shatter the silence with their hammers and saws. But for now, it is still a place of healing. Come with me tonight.” And maybe the waters would heal whatever damage the Arapaho had done.

He saw her wavering . . . remembering that earlier night he had taken her there. Reaching out, he cupped her cheek, needing to touch her in some way. “Eat well, then rest. I will come for you after the house sleeps. Bring extra clothing. We will be away for three nights.”

“Three nights? Where will we stay?”

“I have a tipi not far from there.”

“Lillie will want to go.”

“It is not a safe place for her. If she wants, I will put up a
small tipi for her in the side yard, although she does not seem to have an interest in sleeping outside.” Seeing her brow pucker, he laughed. “Do not worry,
Eho'nehevehohtse.
I will keep you warm and safe.”

Interest sparked in her eyes. And a hunger that answered his own.

“I'll let you tell her we'll be gone,” she said with a saucy smile. “I'm already in enough trouble for not letting Bitsy sleep in her bed.”

The night was clear and cold. The moon had risen early and was already slipping down past the highest mountain peaks by the time they rode into the canyon. As before, Prudence wore the fur-lined coat and moccasins he had brought for her the first time they had come to this place, although this time he could see she wore no gown beneath it.

He held her in front of him, cradling her body against his as the horse worked his way up the steep trail. All around them the sounds and scents of the awakening season hung in the still air.

“The People have a saying,” he whispered against her hair. “‘Walk lightly in the spring; Mother Earth is pregnant.'”

Instead of speaking, she turned her head and pressed a kiss to his neck.

His body instantly reacted. As it always did. As it always would. This woman was part of him now, lodged so deep that every beat of his heart, every breath, every thought circled back to her.

As they climbed higher, the sharp, strong smell of the heated waters drifted through the trees. He heard the sound of fleeing hooves striking the earth and guessed they had disturbed a small herd of deer that had gathered to rest in the warm mist rising off the water's surface. “We are almost there.”

She held a hand over her nose. “I can tell. It's lucky the sulfur smell doesn't carry too far, or Tait and Ethan would have to put their building miles away.”

He laughed softly. “That is the breath of Mother Earth and is part of her healing powers. You will not notice it after a while.”

She looked up through the trees overhead, her soft hair brushing against his chin. “Do you think the lights will move
across the sky again as they did when you brought me here last winter?”

“I do not know. The dance of the spirits is a rare thing. If we see them tonight, it will be after the moon leaves the sky.”

Thomas reined his pony toward the brush corral he had built below his camp. After helping her down, he untied the pouches of clothing and food he had brought, unsaddled, and turned the horse into the enclosure. “Come,” he said, and held out the hand not gripping the pouches.

There was enough moon left for him to see the wide trail cut by the many animals that visited this sacred place. As they wove through the tall firs and pines, the smell grew stronger. He drew it in and called silently on Mother Earth to put her blessing on the woman beside him.

This time, he did not have to ask her to remove her fur-lined coat. As soon as she reached the water's edge, she pulled off her moccasins, tossed the coat over the boulders ringing the pool, then stepped down onto the shelf below the surface. “It feels heavenly.” With a deep sigh, she moved deeper until the water reached to her shoulders.

Thomas joined her. Remembering she could not swim, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her back against his chest. Her body was slick and soft against his, but he could feel the sudden tension in her back and shoulders when he walked deeper and her feet no longer touched the bottom. Her hands came up to grip his forearms crossed over her chest, her fingers digging into his skin.

“I will not let you go, Prudence. You know this.”

He waited for her fear to fade, then began to chant softly into her ear. “Let your arms and legs relax,
Eho'nehevehohtse.
Rest your head against my shoulder and let your body float. I will not let you sink. I will not let you go. Breathe deep and slow. Look up into the sky and watch the stars grow bright as the moon dims. We are safe in the arms of Mother Earth, so rest,
Eho'nehevehohtse
, and think only peaceful thoughts. Sleep. Sleep, and let your sorrow and pain drift away.”

He felt her slowly go limp in his arms. Her eyes drifted closed. Resting his cheek against hers, he opened his mind to the stillness around them.

*   *   *

Pru wasn't sure if she slept—or, if she had, for how long—but gradually she became aware of cool air wafting over her wet body and Thomas carrying her from of the pool. Seeking warmth, she snuggled closer to his chest. “What happened?” she murmured drowsily. “Did I fall asleep?” In truth, she felt almost drugged, her limbs lethargic and her mind sluggish, as if she were floating in that blissful place between sleep and dreaming.

Smiling, he dipped his head and kissed her forehead. “Yes. But now you must wake. I cannot carry you all the way up to the camp.”

“We're staying here?”

“Up higher, on a ridge.” He let her legs slide until her feet touched the cold ground. “Keep your hand on my shoulder until you find your legs.” He helped her into her coat and moccasins, then slung the pouches over his shoulder and took her hand. “I will lead the way.”

Pru was panting by the time they climbed above the tallest trees and onto a high, flat shelf bathed in starlight. She stopped to catch her breath and look around.

It was a stark and beautiful place. She felt as if she were standing on the highest point of the earth, with nothing between her and heaven but an endless array of stars. Off to the west, a tiny sliver of moon was sinking below distant peaks, and to the east, the howl of a single wolf marked its passing. The only thing that broke the endless view was the tipi in the middle of the rocky shelf.

Releasing her hand, Thomas untied the entrance flap and tossed the pouches inside. After positioning long poles to hold open two flaps at the top of the hide-covered structure, he grabbed an armload of firewood from the stack outside. Smiling, he motioned her inside. “Come.”

It was surprisingly cozy, but so dark she was only able to make out low shapes in the dim light coming through the opening overhead. Telling her to wait near the entrance, Thomas dumped his load of firewood on the ground beside what appeared to be a stack of rocks. A moment later, light flared, and soon burning moss ignited a crackling fire that lit
up the tipi's interior and sent smoke coiling up and out of the open flaps overhead.

She saw a mound of fir boughs covered with several blankets and furs and assumed that was the bed. Other than the pouches he had brought, and a few tools and implements stacked to one side, there was little else in the tipi.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She bit back a yawn. “Sleepy.”

“Then rest.” He motioned to the blankets.

She let the heavy fur cloak drop from her shoulders and slid, nude, under the blankets and furs. She tried to stay awake. But the relaxing effects of the pool and the gentle crackle of the fire soon lulled her into a deep sleep.

H
ours later, Thomas sat in the dawn light coming through the open door flap and watched her come awake.

First, her lashes fluttered like the wings of a tiny wren. Her mouth parted on a half sigh. Then she stretched, arching her back, fists unfurling at the ends of arms thrown back against the furs.

Looking on her beauty filled him with such longing he regretted not joining with her during the night.

But it was not time for that yet.

Finally, her eyes opened. For a moment, her gaze circled the tipi walls, then came to rest on him. “Thomas,” she said with a sleepy smile.

“
Pevevoona'o'.
Good morning, Prudence. Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I have in months.” Rising up on one elbow, she tucked the blanket over her nakedness, then propped her head against one hand and studied him. “You're dressed. Are we leaving?”

“I am. For a while.”

“Where are you going?”

Instead of answering, he began pulling items from the bag of food and setting them on a flat stone. “Here is dried meat. Cheese and bread from the hotel. Two apples. They are soft but still good.” He pointed to a smaller leather pouch that hung
from a nail in one of the poles. “That holds fresh water. I will bring more when I return.”

She sat up, the blanket clutched to her chin, worry in her eyes. “You're leaving me? Here? Alone?”

“Do not worry,
heme'oone.
You will be safe. I will not be far away. But while I am gone, I ask you to think about what you want. I will do the same. When I return, we will talk about those things, and decide what to do with the years that lie ahead of us.”

“I don't understand.”

He rose and smiled down at her, painting her face on his memory. “
Nemehotatse, Eho'nehevehohtse. Nestaevahosevoomatse
—I love you, Prudence Lincoln, and I will return.”

Then he stepped through the entrance and headed down the long slope.

*   *   *

Pru stared at the flap over the entrance, half expecting Thomas to come back through it. When he didn't, she scrambled from the bed. With the blanket clutched over her nakedness, she ducked outside.

Sky. Distant peaks. Rocks. And more sky.

But no Thomas.

Panicked, she rushed in one direction, then stumbled back from the hundred-foot drop. In another direction were boulders and another lethal drop, and behind her was a sheer bluff rising to snow-dusted slopes hundreds of feet above her. Fighting a wave of dizziness, she crept to the top of the trail they had come up the previous night. It seemed too steep to have climbed in the dark.

Still, no Thomas.

Her mind reeling, she fled to the tipi. With shaking hands she put on the coat and moccasins, then sat on the blanket, eyes pinned to the flap, a hatchet in her hand. Not even a mouse came in.

By afternoon she was nauseated from lack of food and the stuffy air in the tipi. Grabbing the cheese and bread Thomas had left, she went to sit outside the entrance on a piece of hide.

While she ate, she watched wide-winged birds and clouds drift past, and she had to admit that Thomas had picked a
stunning place to build his camp. Bordered as it was on three sides by natural deterrents, and on the fourth by a dizzying climb, she was probably safer in these mountains than in the snake and alligator infested swamps of Louisiana. Even the bugs here seemed benign—hardly the nuisance the huge roaches and water bugs were back home, or the mosquitos around New Orleans that gathered in such bloodsucking frenzies they killed cattle.

In fact, if she ever became accustomed to the cold, she could grow to love this country.

Hours passed as she contemplated this lofty view of the world and her place within it. The sun sank lower, but before it dipped behind the mountains, a pale quarter moon rose in the east, almost translucent at first, but gaining substance as the day died in fiery protest.

Darkness crept in on a gentle breeze. The temperature dropped. Soon the wind rose into gusts that made the sides of the tipi slap against the pole frame. Ducking back inside, Pru fumbled around in the dim light until she found the water pouch and dried meat, threw several blankets over her arm, and went outside again. She spread her meager dinner on a blanket, determined that if Thomas wanted her to think about their future, then this is where she would do it. Not hiding within the shelter of the tipi, but out here, under the moonlit dome of God's own church.

As she chewed the tough meat strips, she gathered her thoughts. She wanted to be logical, rather than emotional, but it was difficult to separate the two when thinking of Thomas. She loved him. Wanted him. Needed him, in ways she was only now beginning to understand.

But he also disturbed her. Thomas was an unmanageable and elemental force. He had the capacity to destroy the carefully established order of her life. But he could also trigger emotions she had buried for so long she had forgotten they were there. He made her laugh, and cry, and want. Only with him could she forget all the expectations and lessons drilled into her. Only with him could she forget the injustices of the past and the color of her skin.

With Thomas, she could let go and simply . . . be.

That frightened her. It was chaotic and unpredictable and left her vulnerable to hurt. But it also drew her.

Her friends were right. Thomas had changed. Grown. Over the last two years, he had become more than he had been when she'd first met him. Yet he was still and always her Thomas.

She had changed, too. She had learned hard lessons in their time apart. Not everyone wanted help. Not everyone had the ambition to do the hard work needed to improve their situations. Not everyone needed a savior. The meal finished, she stretched out on her back and stared up into the endless night sky. Instead of feeling diminished by the vastness of it, she took comfort in knowing she was a part of it and belonged to something bigger and grander than her mind could comprehend. When viewed from that perspective, the past seemed insignificant. The future, limitless.

She smiled. Then chuckled, feeling more carefree and unburdened than she had in a long time. Even the brush of the soft fur against her naked body made her feel new and uninhibited. She wanted to fly, to soar free and unencumbered and escape the fetters that had held her fast for so long.

Free.

Filled with a burst of unbridled delight, she threw her arms wide and laughed aloud into the night sky.

If she needed someone to teach, she could teach Lillie. If she needed someone to save, she could save Thomas by steering him away from making the same mistakes she had. Neither of them could rescue the world or right all the wrongs of the past. But they could still find fulfillment in each other.

Words he had once spoken to her echoed in her memory:
Do not let the past take up too much of today.

The past was over. Today was new and perfect and unscarred by old wounds. But the future, and all the tomorrows stretching ahead of her, belonged to her and Thomas and Lillie.

A feeling of peace came over her. A sense of rightness, as if finally everything that mattered had settled into place, and all the rest had fallen away.

She must have slept. When next she opened her eyes, it was to blinding sunlight and the sight of Thomas standing at the edge of the drop-off, arms upraised, face lifted to the sky. He
was power and strength. Unequivocally male. A mystical figure silhouetted against the distant mountains. She could almost envision him stepping off that ledge and soaring like an eagle into the sky.

Instead, he dropped his arms to his sides and turned to face her.

A stab of fear drove her to her feet. Something was different. “Thomas?”

He walked toward her, every motion fluid grace, from the swing of his glossy black hair to the sway in his powerful shoulders to his long, sure strides.

She wanted to go to him, but something in his face held her back.

He stopped before her. Taking her face in his broad hands, he dipped his head and kissed her. “
Nemehotatse, Eho'nehevehohtse
,” he whispered against her mouth, then kissed her again. “I love you. And I would have no other but you as
nahe'e
, my woman. Will you accept me, Prudence Lincoln?”

Tears brimmed. Knowing he didn't like them, she tried to blink them away, but more kept coming. “Yes, Thomas.”

He smiled and took his hands away. “Good.
Napevetano.
I am happy.”

But still, something had changed. “You're different. What happened?”

His smile broadened, spreading to eyes that were usually guarded, but now glowed with happiness. She had a sense that she was seeing him as few others had.

“Did you not know?” Pushing aside the opening of her coat, he put his hand on her belly. It was cold against her bare skin. “Can you not feel it,
Eho'nehevehohtse
? The babe that grows within you?”

“Wh-What?” She stared at him, her mouth falling open, her heart stuttering in her chest. “A babe?” She looked down at her body and the strong hand resting there. “But how . . . I thought . . .” All that pain. The bleeding. The fear.

“Do not worry. He is safe within you. All will be well.”

“But I don't understand. How do you know this?”

“I see it in your eyes,
Eho'nehevehohtse
.
I hear the whisper of it on the wind. I feel it here.” He gently pressed his palm
against her. “And here.” He put his free hand over his heart. “He will be a fine man. Strong like me. Clever like you.”

“He?”

He smiled. “Our son.”

Her legs began to shake. Tears rolled down her face. “You're s-sure?”

He nodded, his own eyes filling. “My spirit guides tell me he will be a great warrior. He will see things we will never see, and go to places we can only imagine. But he will fight with words, not knives, and his voice will be heard.”

Her knees gave out. Sobbing, she collapsed against him, bathed in a joy so intense if felt almost like pain.

“Ssh. Do not weep.” Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her into the tipi. “Let me love you,
heme'oone
, and take your tears away.”

*   *   *

Thomas gently laid her on the fur-draped boughs, then pulled the coat and moccasins from her trembling body. “Are you cold, Prudence? Should I light a fire for you?”

“You already have.”

Pleased, he stretched out beside her. He kissed her beautiful face, licked the salty tears from her cheeks, and welcomed the need building inside him.

“You truly did not know?” he asked, gently stroking her belly.

“I thought something was wrong. That I was barren.”

“I am glad.”

“That I thought I was barren?”

“That you did not know.”

She rolled toward him and rested her hand on his chest. “Why?”

“Because it tells me you came back because you wanted to, and not because of our child.”

“I would have come back either way, Thomas.” Leaning forward, she kissed the scar over his heart. “This is where I belong.”

Emotion clogged his throat. Words would not come. Instead, he skimmed his hands over her, learning the feel of her all over again—tracing with his fingertips the changes in
the sleek body carrying his child. Where her belly had once been flat and soft to his touch, now there was a new firmness, a gentle rounding that fit into his palm. As he stroked her breasts and hips and between her legs, he remembered another woman with a different child growing within her, and vowed silently that he would not fail this time.

Leaning over her on one elbow, he pressed his lips against her belly, her breasts, the scars across her shoulder. Then he straightened and looked into her eyes. “I cannot right the injustices of the past,
Eho'nehevehohtse.
But I will protect you from any that come in the future. That is my vow to you and our son.”

Seeing the tear slide down his cheek brought new ones to Pru's eyes. Pulling him down, she rocked him in her arms, filled with such love it burned like a flame within her. “And my vow to you is that I will never leave you again.”

He let out a deep breath. Muscles quivered beneath her hands, and she felt the warm wetness of tears on her shoulder.

“I love you, Thomas.”

He rested against her for a moment longer, then rose on his arms above her, his legs hot and trembling against hers. “
Nemehotatse,
” he said, and pushed inside.

And everything changed. The air in the tipi. The sound of the wind whispering along the hides outside. Her breathing. Again and again, their bodies came together, then slid apart, and came together again in a rhythm as old as the earth on which they lay.

This wasn't simply making love. This was a joining. A coming together in an elemental way beyond words or thought. This was soul-deep wanting put in physical form.

Pru lost herself to pure sensation. She wept. She clawed at his muscular arms. She urged him on with pleas and moans. As tension built, she pressed her open mouth against his neck, tasted the salty tang of his skin, and felt the pulse of his heart against her tongue. She felt filled. Complete. Exultant. And when bliss engulfed her, she cried out with the joy of it.

*   *   *

It was dark when they finally emerged from the tipi, sated and clinging to each other like new lovers, laughing over inconsequential things. Pru felt weightless and carefree, like a soap bubble rising in languid circles to meet the stars overhead.

Everything felt new. Sharper. Clearer. The sky seemed vaster, the stars brighter.

“Sit,” Thomas said. Pulling her down between his knees, he wrapped his arms around her and settled her back against his chest. They sat in silence for a time, then he said, “You were different tonight. You held nothing back from me.”

“I held nothing back from myself.”

“That is good. It will only make us stronger for what lies ahead.”