Vickie nodded. "But what's the occasion?"
"No occasion," Hawk replied with a shrug. "I just got tired of wearing buckskins all the time."
"I like your buckskins," Victoria said honestly. "But this is a nice change."
"I bought something for you, too," Hawk said, reaching into his shirt pocket. "I hope you like it."
With eager hands, Vickie unwrapped the small square package he offered her. Inside she found a lovely cameo on a delicate silver chain.
"It's lovely," she murmured. "Thank you, Hawk. Will you fasten the chain for me?"
His hands lightly caressed her neck as he fastened the chain. Bending, he kissed the top of her head, his hands squeezing her shoulders. "Ne-mehotatse, Vickie," he said quietly. "I love you. Forever."
"Forever," she repeated softly.
At church on Sunday, Victoria wondered if having Hawk there was such a good idea. Every unattached female in the building stared at Hawk. Of course, he was incredibly handsome, so she supposed she could not blame them for staring. But afterward, they all came by, ostensibly to say hello to Vickie and to admire the twins, but Vickie knew it was just an excuse to be near Hawk. Muriel Perkins was almost drooling, and Faye McKendrick just oozed with charm as she complimented Vickie on her dress, though her eyes never left Hawk's face.
Victoria was fuming as Hawk helped her into their carriage and then handed her the twins.
"Why are you scowling like that?" he asked, frowning.
"You know why," Victoria retorted.
"If I knew, I would not ask," Hawk said, his tone reasonable.
"It's you!" Vickie said, exasperated. "You're just too darned good-looking in that suit." She stamped her foot petulantly. "All those women drooling over you like they've never seen a man before. It was disgusting."
"Oh," Hawk said gravely. "It could not be that you are a tiny bit jealous?"
"Jealous? Me? Of course not."
"Good, because you have nothing to be jealous of."
"Don't I?"
"Vickie, you know there is no one else for me. Only you."
"I know," Victoria said, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry." It wasn't his fault he was so handsome, or that he looked so wonderful in a suit of dark gray broadcloth.
"I know how you can make it up to me," Hawk mused, flashing a roguish grin.
"Do you?" Vickie asked saucily.
"Yes, ma'am. And I will show you, just as soon as the twins go down for a nap."
And he did.
23
We all noticed the change in Hawk, and I saw that it wrought a change in Victoria as well. She smiled more often, and the worry that had often lurked in the depths of her clear azure eyes vanished as though it had never been. Women who had once gone out of their way to avoid my son began to find him charming, and men who had once looked at him suspiciously began to feel he could be trusted after all. Hawk, it seemed, could be quite captivating and friendly when it suited him.
"Are you sure you've told me everything that happened between Hawk and Castrell?" I asked Shadow. "Are you certain you didn't leave anything out?"
"I have told you everything," Shadow assured me.
"Then what caused the sudden change in our son?"
"I think that when he was on the brink of killing Castrell, our son came face to face with himself and he did not like what he saw."
"I don't understand."
"You cannot be a whole man when your heart is filled with hate. It eats away at you, and soon you hate yourself as well as everyone else. I think that for the first time in his life he accepted the fact that he is part white as well as Cheyenne, and that being half white does not make him less of a man, or less of a warrior."
"What are you going to do about Frank Smythe?"
Shadow shrugged. "I sent him a letter. I told him I knew what he had done, and that it would be wise for him to stay in Chicago. I told him that whatever was wrong with his marriage had nothing to do with Cloud Walker."
"Do you think Frank will heed your advice?"
Shadow smiled. "If he is wise, he will stay in Chicago. Personally, I hope he comes back to Bear Valley."
"Shadow, you wouldn't"
"Kill him? No. I would just rough him up a little."
"Shadow!"
"I am only making a joke," he said. But I was not so sure.
All was peaceful in our home once more. Cloud Walker recovered rapidly, due in part to Mary's devoted attention. She was at his side every minute she could spare, talking to him, reading to him, bringing him gourmet meals to tempt his appetite, as well as the sweet treats he loved. She brought Katherine in to visit him often, and the two became good friends. Cloud Walker soon became Katherine's favorite person besides her mother, and she laughed and smiled for him more than for anyone else.
When Cloud Walker felt like getting out of bed, Mary was there for him to lean on. They took many short walks outside, for Cloud Walker could not long abide being cooped up. Bundled in warm coats, wool scarves, gloves, and hats, they strolled in the yard, oblivious to the cold and the snow, lost in the warmth of the love growing between them.
Mary fretted over what to give Cloud Walker for a Christmas present, and I remarked that he could use a new pair of moccasins, for his were badly worn.
The idea appealed to Mary, and she set out to make him a pair. I helped her cut them out and showed her how to stitch them together, and she spent several hours sewing them, and then decorating them with colored beads. When she was finished, they were well-made and quite handsome. I knew Cloud Walker would be pleased. It occurred to me that Shadow could also use a new pair of moccasins, and so I spent part of one morning cutting and sewing a pair for my husband. Shadow refused to wear any other kind of footwear, insisting that the shoes of the white man were stiff and uncomfortable, and he was always in need of new moccasins, for they wore out quickly. But these would be special, and not for everyday. The hide I used for the upper part of the moccassins had been tanned and bleached until it was the color of cream. When the moccasins were stitched together, I decorated them with porcupine quills dyed red.
In mid-December Cloud Walker moved back into the Cheyenne lodge behind our house, but he spent a good deal of time with us. Katherine cooed and gurgled in his arms, and Mary's face glowed with that inner happiness that shines through when a woman is truly in love.
Frank continued to be stubborn about a divorce, and I knew it was hard for Mary and Cloud Walker to spend so much time together without being able to consummate their love. I often saw them standing close together under the trees, their arms linked around each other, and I wondered how much longer Mary could remain physically faithful to Frank Smythe. In a way, it seemed foolish to deny herself the joy of Cloud Walker's touch. I knew that in her heart, Mary had already betrayed her husband many times, and I thought that the Cheyenne had the right idea about divorce. Perhaps it wasn't moral or ethical according to the laws of the white man, but it was eminently more practical.
On Christmas Eve, we each picked one gift to exchange just before bedtime. Cloud Walker and Shadow were pleased with their new footwear, each declaring a perfect fit. I was delighted with Shadow's gift to me, a dainty silver locket on a fine silver chain.
Inside were pictures of Hawk and Victoria, and Mary and Blackie. Shadow refused to have his picture taken. It seemed strange that after so many years of living with my people he could still be superstitious, but on this one point he refused to budge, no matter how I pleaded. I argued that Geronimo had had his picture taken many times, that the old warrior even sold photographs of himself to earn money, but still Shadow refused, arguing stubbornly that he did not want his likeness captured inside the white man's black box.
"You will have to come outside for your present," Cloud Walker told Mary, so we all bundled up and trooped outside and there, tethered to the hitch rail, stood the leopard Appaloosa filly.
"For me?" Mary breathed in wonder.
Cloud Walker nodded. "She is my gift to you."
"Oh, Cloud Walker," Mary squealed in delight, and threw her arms around his neck.
"You said you'd never sell that mare," I whispered to Shadow as we went back into the house.
Shadow winked at me. "True, she no longer belongs to me, but she is still in the family. And when she is ready to be bred, I think Mary will want Smoke to be the sire."
"And you'll buy the foal."
"Perhaps," Shadow said, shrugging nonchalantly.
Later we sang Christmas carols and drank hot apple cider. We had bought Blackie a book on veterinary medicine, and he read it until he fell asleep.
Hawk and Victoria had gone to spend the evening with Vickie's mother and the Reverend Brighton. I missed having them at our place, but I couldn't blame Victoria for wanting to spend some time with her mother. Their relationship was growing closer and stronger, and I was glad. We would see Hawk and Vickie and the twins tomorrow at Pa's.
We had a lovely Christmas that year. Shadow surprised me with the best present of all by announcing that he was coming to church with us. I was certain he was only teasing me until he appeared in the parlor dressed in his dark suit and tie.
"Shall we go?" he asked, and taking my arm, he led me outside and helped me into the buggy. Cloud Walker was outside waiting for us. It seemed he, too, was going to church. He didn't own a suit, but he looked quite presentable in a pair of whipcord trousers and a white shirt. Cloud Walker helped Mary into the buggy, handed the baby to me, and teased Blackie about his slicked-back hair as he took a seat beside Mary.
"All set?" Shadow asked, glancing around.
"All set," we answered in unison, and he clucked to the team and we were on our way.
Our family caused quite a stir as we entered the chapel. Shadow had never attended church before and there was a great deal of nudging and whispering as we took a place near the back of the church. A few minutes later Hawk arrived, accompanied by Vickie and the twins. I looked at Shadow, and he grinned at me.
"Merry Christmas, Hannah," he said, smiling merrily. "Your whole family is here today."
I nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak.
''Are you pleased?"
"It's the best present I've ever had."
I felt my throat swell with tears as I gazed at each member of my family, and I had never been happier. The church had never looked more beautiful. The single stained-glass window behind the altar glowed with color as the sun came shining through, highlighting the picture of the Good Shepherd. The hymns we sang that day had never sounded sweeter, and the Christmas story touched me as never before.
I gazed at my two sons and my daughter, at my three lovely grandchildren, and felt my heart swell with love for my own children, and for the Virgin Mary's blessed son.
Shadow sat beside me, my hand enfolded in his, and when I looked up at him, my heart was so filled with love I thought it might burst.
"And she brought forth her firstborn son," the Reverend Brighton began, "and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. And there was in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord . . ."
After the service we spent a few minutes visiting with our friends, wishing them all a Merry Christmas. Hawk, Shadow, and Cloud Walker stood together, looking a trifle uncomfortable as nearly the entire congregation came to greet them.
"Well, what did you think of it?" I asked Shadow on our way home.
Shadow shrugged. "It was . . . interesting."
"Interesting?"
Shadow nodded. "Perhaps someday I will read your Bible again. I think I would like to know more about the man called Jesus."
Smiling, I squeezed Shadow's arm. He had read our Bible many years ago when my mother was teaching him to read and write. Shadow had been a voracious reader back then. He had read everything he could lay his hands on: the labels on tin cans, old newspapers, my adventure books, a volume of Shakespeare that neither of us understood, my mother's cookbooks, and Pa's mail-order catalog. In the years since then, he had not had much time or inclination for reading. I made a mental note to make sure our family Bible was left on the nightstand that night, just in case Shadow felt the urge to read it.
At home we changed out of our church clothes and ate a leisurely lunch before getting ready to go to Pa's house.
Mary helped me clean up the kitchen while Shadow, Blackie, and Cloud Walker went out to check on the stock and hitch up the team.
It was fun having Mary home again. We laughed and talked as we did the dishes, trying to guess what we were getting for Christmas, remarking on the outrageous bonnet Lydia had worn to church, expressing our happiness at having the men attend church with us.
"I thought the roof was going to cave in," Mary mused, "the way everyone stared at neyho and Cloud Walker."
"Yes," I agreed. "This is one Christmas that the whole town will remember."
We sang Christmas carols on the way to Pa's house, laughing as our breath came out in great clouds of white vapor. The countryside was exquisite. The land and the trees were covered in pristine white, making the whole world look virginal and new.
Pa's house rang with happy laughter as our family got together. I had never seen so many presents in my life, and the parlor floor was littered with boxes and paper and brightly colored ribbons by the time all the gifts had been opened and admired: numerous toys for Katherine and the twins, a dainty gold watch for Victoria, a fur muff for Mary, a new shirt for Cloud Walker, a rifle for Hawk, a set of Charles Dickens for Rebecca, a skinning knife for Blackie, a rocking chair for Pa to relax in, a lovely blue shawl for me, a buckskin jacket for Shadow, and on and on. Katherine played happily with the wrappings, her gifts untouched.
"We could have given her empty boxes," Pa lamented good-naturedly. "Could have saved a heap of money."
The twins, now two years old, were into everything. They chased each other through the house, played hide-and-seek under the dining table, and generally made nuisances of themselves until Victoria put them down for a nap.
Vickie and I went into the kitchen to help Rebecca prepare dinner. The kitchen was fragrant with the heavenly aroma of baking turkey and mincemeat pie. I peeled potatoes while Vickie made gravy and Rebecca rolled out a mess of biscuits.
The twins woke up in time to eat and we laughed and talked around the dinner table between bites of turkey and sweet potatoes, beans, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and biscuits dripping with butter and honey.
After dinner we each took a turn at saying something nice about the person sitting next to them.
Pa declared Blackie was the best horse midwife he had ever seen. Rebecca pronounced Hawk the owner of the handsomest smile. Victoria said Shadow was the wisest man she had ever known. Cloud Walker said Mary was the best medicine a sick man could hope for. Shadow said I was the best wife a warrior could ever have. Blackie said Cloud Walker was almost as good with horses as his father.
"A high compliment indeed," Cloud Walker murmured, pleased.
Hawk said Vickie was the prettiest pregnant woman he had ever seen, and we all gasped at this unexpected piece of good news.
"When's the baby due?" Rebecca asked.
"August," Vickie replied, smiling at Hawk.
"We'll have to build a bigger house soon," Pa said with a sigh. "We're outgrowing this one."
"I know," Rebecca said, grinning happily. "Isn't it wonderful?"
It was a lovely day. After pie and coffee, we gathered around the fireplace to sing Christmas carols. I stood beside Shadow, my arm around his waist, silently thanking God for the health and happiness that filled my father's house, and praying that the future would only bring m
ore of the same.
24
January 1, 1900, blew in on the heels of a severe snowstorm that kept us all indoors. Blackie was content to sit on the sofa, his nose buried in his veterinary book. Cloud Walker and Mary sat on the floor in front of a cheery fire, dreaming the dreams that all young lovers dream. I sat at the opposite end of the sofa from Blackie, a pile of mending in my lap. And Shadow paced. He hated being cooped up in the house, and he prowled from room to room like a caged tiger, growling at everyone.
"How do you stand him?" Mary asked, grinning at me as Shadow stomped through the parlor on his way to the kitchen. "Doesn't he drive you crazy?"
"Sometimes," I admitted. "But he's always hated to be shut in, always abhorred small spaces."
It was shortly after noon when Shadow pulled on a heavy sheepskin jacket and went outsideto check on the stock, he said, but we all knew it was just an excuse to get out of the house.
I gazed out the window watching the snow fall. It was beautiful. As far as I could see, the earth was covered with a blanket of white. It was 1900, I thought. Imagine. I picked up a newspaper and thumbed through it. An article by Chauncey Depew, a man who had formerly been a railroad president and was now a junior United States Senator, was quoted as saying, "There is not a man here who does not feel 400 percent bigger in 1900 than he did in 1896, bigger intellectually, bigger patriotically, bigger in the breast from the fact that he is a citizen of a country that has become a world power for peace, for civilization, and for the expansion of its industries and the products of its labor."
In the same article, the Reverend Newell D. Hillis, pastor of Brooklyn's Plymouth Church, was quoted as saying, "Laws are becoming more just, rulers humane, music is becoming sweeter and books wiser; homes are happier, and the individual heart becoming at once more just and more gentle."
I frowned as I read that. There had been cries of outrage when President Roosevelt invited Booker T. Washington, the country's most famous Negro, to dine at the White House. Negroes were not allowed to vote. Of course, neither were Indians. I wondered if the Cheyenne cooped up on the reservation would find the laws more just, their homes happier, their rulers more humane. The changing times had done little to ease the misery of life on the reservation. Were we, indeed, more just and more gentle? There were still outlaws roaming the West. Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch were robbing trains. The Apache warrior, Geronimo, was still alive. I smiled as I thought of him. We had lived with Geronimo for a time, Shadow and I. It seemed so long ago that we had lived in an Apache wickiup deep in the wilds of the Sierra Madre mountains. So long ago. In 1894 Geronimo had been sent to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, where he attempted farming for a short time, but the Apaches had never been farmers and Geronimo began selling souvenir bows and arrows and pictures of himself to the tourists. It was sad, I thought, that a man who had once been a great leader had been reduced to selling trinkets, that a man who had once roamed the whole Southwest should be forced to spend his last days under the watchful eye of federal troops.
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