Whitefeather's Woman by Deborah Hale

Author:Deborah Hale
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2001-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Early the next morning, while a mild breeze sighed through the western fringes of a prairie wet with dew, John and Jane prepared to set off for Sweetgrass.

“Are you sure you don’t mind us leaving you by yourself again today, Ruth?” John asked as they drank coffee around the kitchen table.

His sister waved her hand as if to sweep them on their way. “Caleb should be back from Miles City by noon. You need to get away before it becomes too hot to travel. Jane, you won’t forget to give those sewing supplies to my auntie?”

Jane shook her head. “I’ll make sure she gets them. Did you tell me her name means ‘Walks on Ice’?”

John spoke up, his voice gruffer than he intended. “I suppose you think that’s funny. Well, it happens Auntie is a skilled midwife. Women of my people always call on her when it’s a hard birth. One spring when she was young, she crossed a river on thin ice to attend a woman in labor. The ice cracked behind her with each step, but she got to the other side safely. The elders said the Great Spirit made her step light because she was doing a worthy deed.”

“I don’t think it’s funny, at all.” Jane looked him straight in the eye, her voice quiet but uncowed. “How wonderful to have done something so important folks are reminded of the story every time they say your name. I’ve never done anything that would earn me a name.”

Her wistful tone blasted John’s conscience. He hadn’t meant to hurt her any more than he’d meant to kiss her the other day. Would he regain control of his actions once she was gone from his life? And if he did, would the price be too high?

Ruth patted Jane’s shoulder and flashed John a scolding glare. “If you were a Cheyenne girl, your name would likely be Calls to Children. That’s a gift, and not everyone has it. Especially not… Ah, listen to me going on when you two should be on your way.”

If Ruth was hoping to distract Jane, she failed.

“Especially not…who?” Jane turned her soft hazel eyes on his sister.

John knew from experience the futility of trying to hold anything back from that beseeching gaze. He also knew what Ruth had meant to say.

“Especially not ve’ho’e, dear.” Ruth sighed over the offensive truth. “Most white folks are much harsher with their young than the Tsitsistas.”

“I see. Then I guess I’ll fit right in at Sweetgrass, won’t I?” On that modestly defiant note, Jane drained the last of her coffee, then carried her dishes to the washtub.

Oh, she’d fit in at Sweetgrass. Suddenly John had a bad feeling about the whole day ahead of him. Jane Harris would fit in at a Cheyenne village…when frogs grew teeth!

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