Summer Moon

by Jill Marie Landis

  By the time she heard anything, they would be dead. Besides, he doubted she would use the gun.

  “I’m all right. I can’t sleep anyway,” he admitted. He knew she was tired.

  “Thinking of Daniel?”

  “Yeah.”

  When she moved closer, he silently admitted to his loneliness for the first time in years when he realized that he welcomed her companionship. He found himself eased by her presence; the sound of her voice became a soothing balm. He had lived in a world of men for so long that he was rusty around a woman.

  “Earlier, you convinced me that he’ll be all right,” she reminded him. “I believed you.”

  Reed sighed heavily. “A million and one things could happen to him out here.”

  “You told me he knows the land.”

  “It’s not the prairie I’m worried about.”

  The Comanche had far more enemies than just Texans. Any of them would be happy to get their hands on the boy, not to mention the expensive white Andalusian. Reed only hoped Daniel was still wearing the clothes Kate and Charm had given him. With his hair cut off, he looked more white than Comanche, which just might save his hide if a troop of Federal soldiers or a Texas Ranger outfit found him first and he resisted.

  Kate shifted closer. Reed was shocked when she reached through the twilight and slid her hand atop the back of his. “We’ll get him back.”

  The giving, supportive touch surprised him, opened a raw spot, and left him vulnerable. He wished that he had the courage to put his feelings into words the way she did—to tell her that he truly wanted his boy back, that he was ready to try to be the father Daniel needed, to give him the love he deserved. He didn’t want Tommy Harlan to have died for nothing. Something good had to come out of what happened to him that day.

  “If anything happens to Daniel now . . .”

  Kate reached up, pressed her fingertips to his lips. “ Nothing is going to happen to him.”

  He took her hand, held it away from his mouth but didn’t let her go. “If he gets to the Comanche first . . .”

  “We’ll get him back.”

  We . . .

  He was holding fiercely to her hand now. Suddenly, she had become a lifeline to all the feelings he had denied for so long.

  “You know those things you said to me about why I really left the Rangers? About how I came back because I wanted to start over with Daniel? You were right. I wasn’t able to do my job because all I could think about in the middle of a raid was Daniel. Because of my inability to act, one of our men lost his life. Everywhere I looked in that Comanche camp, I imagined Daniel and . . . I couldn’t bring myself to shoot.”

  “We’ll find him,” she said again.

  “I should have listened to you. I would never have cut off his hair if I had known it would push him into running.”

  “You had no idea. We both know that. You told me in the beginning that he would run if given a chance. I really thought he was settling in, getting used to our ways. I had hoped that he was long past wanting to leave us.”

  “I’m sorry for the things I’ve said to you, Kate. For the way I’ve treated you.”

  “What a shock it must have been for you to wake up one day and discover you had a wife you never met . . . or wanted.”

  The growing darkness gave him the ability to focus on the sound of her voice, sincere, yet tinged with regret. “You didn’t deserve what my father and Sofia did to you, not to mention what I put you through, but you stayed even though I made an ass out of myself time after time. I know that you’ve stayed because of Daniel.”

  They were as alone as if stranded on one of the countless distant stars above them.

  She said, “I asked you once what you wanted, Reed, what you dreamed of, and you didn’t know. If you wished on one of those stars up there, what would you wish for?”

  “Wish for?” For so long he had merely existed from day to day. He didn’t really know what he wanted beyond getting Daniel back. Wasn’t it enough that he was alive and for once sitting under the prairie stars without aching with loneliness? He had stopped dreaming after hard experience taught him that it brought only heartache.

  Kate still hadn’t moved. She waited for an answer.

  “I’d wish to find Daniel safe. To take him home and keep the ranch going on my own. My father cast a pretty big shadow, one I’m not sure I can live up to.”

  She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “All he really left behind besides a prosperous ranch was doubt and deception. You can do much more—for Daniel and for Lone Star, if you want to.”

  He doubted it, but he didn’t want to think of Lone Star right now. Not with her sitting so close.

  Her voice was seductive, low, and as smooth as honey. She sat very still, watching him, as if waiting for him to kiss her. There was only one way to find out if she would object this time.

  He reached out, slid his hand beneath her hair, pulled her closer. She rested her palm against his shirtfront, a gentle touch, one without resistance. Beneath her hand, his heart beat faster.

  Lowering his lips to hers, he gave her the softest of kisses, one that lingered rather than teased, one that he hoped told her he was truly sorry for what had been and that he would like to start over.

  When he lifted his head, he heard her sigh. Without another word, he pulled her close, until her head rested where her hand had been.

  An owl flew overhead, its heavy wings making soft whispering sounds as it skimmed along on the still night air. Reed stared up at all the stars that filled the sky.

  There was no raiders’ moon out tonight.

  Lack of moonlight just might save their scalps.

  Kate had been quiet for so long that he wasn’t surprised to discover she had fallen sound asleep. He pulled her closer, surprised at how familiar she felt within the circle of his arm.

  As the night deepened and the warmth of her cheek seeped into his chest, he wondered if his heart wasn’t beginning to thaw just a little.

  Kate blessed the darkness and feigned sleep. Her mind held only one thought.

  Reed just kissed me.

  She had no idea why or what the morrow would bring, but she did know that she had loved him before he even knew she existed, that she had fallen in love with the promise of what they could have shared together.

  She had loved the idea of him then.

  Now she loved the man.

  39

  Kate woke up alone shortly after the first light of dawn. She looked over and saw that Reed had already saddled up the horses and was waiting. She wondered if she had dreamed of falling asleep in his arms.

  As the sky turned pink they headed out. Reed was close and guarded all morning, as if he regretted what had happened last night. Kate tried to convince herself the kiss had been spontaneous, born out of the solitude of the trail and their mutual concern for Daniel. She told herself that nothing had changed between them and wished that she believed it.

  Reed looked as worn as she felt. Dark circles tinted the skin beneath his eyes. A full day’s growth of beard shadowed his jaw. She didn’t know how he could make out any kind of trail on the hard, grassy soil. The ground all looked the same to her, but he claimed to be following the Andalusian’s shoe prints. Now and again he would lose the trail, but they kept heading northwest, and he would eventually rediscover it, almost as if he were following Daniel by instinct.

  She marveled that the landscape had not changed in two days and was lulled into the notion that the prairie rolled on forever. She tried not to picture them as two lone, vulnerable specks adrift in a sea of dying summer grass.

  She concentrated on Daniel, reminding herself that he was riding across the same lonely stretch of prairie all by himself.

  Was he afraid or rejoicing his escape with every mile? When she thought of all the hours she had spent reading to him and trying to teach him to speak English again, or how willing Charm had been to spend hours sewing for him, of all the cookies and treats the gir
l had baked to please him, it nearly broke her heart. When she remembered the quiet hours she spent trying to establish a bond between them, she could hardly bring herself to accept the fact that he had been planning this escape all along.

  She had been foolish not to believe Reed’s warning.

  The farther they rode, the more she wondered what would become of Daniel if they took him back by force. Knowing how sorely he wanted to escape, she wondered if there was any way to reach him or if all they would initiate was more heartache.

  Fast Pony had ridden into the camp at dawn when no one but one of the old men guarding the village was there to witness his return. He did not care that there was no crowd to hail him as a hero, for he was too tired to boast, too exhausted to do more than mumble when No Teeth Left took the prize white horse from him and pointed him toward the teepee of his uncle, where his mother now lived.

  At first he was so happy to hear that his mother was alive he did not realize she was living in his uncle’s tepee because his father was dead. The truth hit him as he stepped through the opening and looked around the dusky interior. Gone were many of the things that usually hung around the walls. There was no decorated shield, no medicine bag, no hide backrests. The dwelling looked as if it had been stripped of all but a handful of necessary items.

  His mother was sitting near the cook fire stirring a stew bubbling in a buffalo paunch. He smelled wild onions and turnips, and his mouth watered. Her long shining hair was gone, shorn because she was mourning. When his mother did not look up from her task, her sadness introduced itself to him. She sat with her shoulders bowed, huddled in upon herself. The corners of her mouth drooped sorrowfully. There was a distant, lost look in her eyes.

  One of his uncle’s wives glanced up and shrieked with gladness. His cousins and aunts soon surrounded him, and his heart leapt with joy. He had eyes only for his mother, Painted White Feather. She looked at him as if seeing a spirit.

  He had prayed and planned this homecoming for so long that it seemed like a dream unfolding. He wanted to be as brave as his father. He wanted to hold his head high. As he started toward his mother, he walked straight and tall without showing any sign of his faded limp.

  But when his mother rose to her knees and held her arms out to him, he no longer wanted to be brave. He ran to her, not as a warrior, but as her son. He let her enfold him in her embrace. Then he cried.

  Later she took him outside and together they walked to a nearby stream to collect water. They sat side-by-side as she spoke to him of his father, of how Many Horses had died bravely during the same raid in which Fast Pony had been captured.

  She told the story in great detail, of how she had saved herself by running and hiding behind a smoldering pile of buffalo robes. She risked death by crawling beneath one very close to the burning heap. The Rangers left without finding her. Later, as the survivors crept back to the ashes of what was left of their encampment, she had found his father’s body. When she did not find Fast Pony and realized that he must have been captured and not killed, she rejoiced.

  He told her of Tall Ranger, the one who had taken him away to live in a huge wooden dwelling a long ride away. He spoke of how he planned his escape and of the fine white horse he had stolen.

  Boasting, he recited all the white man’s words he knew: cookie , chicken, cake, eat, water, horse. And his favorite, chock-o-late. Laughing, he described all the sweet foods they had given him, but then he felt bad, thinking of all his hollow-eyed cousins.

  Times had not been good among the Nermernuh, his mother said. Many of the warriors were dead now or imprisoned at Fort Sill. The raids between the Tejanos and their people had been many. The blue coats were paying for the return of captives, so the warriors raided more, taking captives and turning them over to the blue coats for money—money they turned around and used to buy guns from the Comancheros. Guns for taking more captives.

  Fast Pony laughed at the stupidity of the whites.

  They sat in silence for a time, happy in each other’s company. His mother did not seem to mind at all that Tall Ranger had cut his hair. She stroked it just the way she used to and held him close.

  Then she began to ask him many, many questions about Tall Ranger. She asked what the man looked like and about the woman, Soft Grass Hands. He admitted that, other than cutting off his hair, they had treated him very well, for a prisoner. They never beat him or cut or burned him, either, even when he was bad. He thought of the way he had fought and cursed and the terrible way he grabbed and ate their food.

  His mother sat in silence, her thoughts far, far away. Then she grew very still. When he looked into her face, he saw tears glittering in her eyes.

  “What is it, Mother? Why do you cry?”

  She wiped her tears and tried to smile, but her lips were trembling. Even a baby could have seen that she was very, very sad. “Do you know the way back? To the home of the Tall Ranger?”

  “I think so. Yes, I could find it again.”

  He threw back his shoulders and stuck out his chest. Perhaps she was going to send him back to steal more horses. He pictured himself leading a raiding party back to the Tall Ranger’s land to bring back more of the fine stock. This time he would claim the spotted mare and her foal as his own.

  The look on his mother’s face quickly dampened his joy. He had never seen her so sad. He thought he knew why. “Are you thinking of Father?”

  She hugged him close, kissing the top of his head. “No, my son. I am thinking of you. I want you to go back.” She took a deep breath and shivered, as if she were freezing cold, even on such a hot, dry day. “I want you to take your fine white horse and go back to Tall Ranger.”

  “To steal more horses?” He felt her trembling beside him and grew frightened.

  She shook her head. “No. I want you to go back . . . to live with the Tall Ranger again. I want you to stay with him forever.”

  If she had struck him with a war ax, he could not have hurt any worse. He tried to understand. Perhaps losing his father had left her confused.

  “Why do you want me to go back there? I hate them.” She took hold of his hand, studied it as if she had never seen it before. She turned it over, traced his palm with her fingertip. Then she looked down into his eyes and the sorrow he saw in hers made him afraid.

  “Listen to me and listen well, Fast Pony. You are my son as surely as if you had come from my belly, but you were not always my son. Many Horses stole you from the whites when you were little more than a babe. He gave you to me, for we had no children of our own.” She looked off across the stream, toward the embankment. “I think maybe you once belonged to this Tall Ranger. Perhaps that is why he took you to his dwelling. Because you were his son long ago.”

  “But I don’t want to be the son of a white man.” He spat on the ground beside him to rid his mouth of such horrible, frightening words.

  “You are a white man’s son by blood. You have the eyes of the whites.”

  “You told me my eyes were different because the Great Spirit made me special. That I am not like the others because my father was a great warrior and his son was not like other little boys.” He was furious at her for saying such things to him, for lying.

  “In your heart you will always be Nermernuh, but you are truly white, and I am afraid for you if you stay here. Our people are dying faster than the summer grass withers. Your father is gone. Soon we will all have to go onto the reservation to survive, and when we do, those adopted into our clan will be sent back to their white families.”

  She took his face in her hands. “You will be taken from me, and I will not be able to stop them. Tall Ranger and his people treated you well. You say he has many horses, that he can take care of you. He can give you all I cannot anymore. Without your father here to protect us—”

  He jumped to his feet before she could say any more. “I can protect you! I won’t go!” He pounded his fist over his heart. “I am Nermernuh.”

  She grabbed his wrist, kept him
from running away. His tears shamed him now, tears that betrayed his weak and broken heart.

  His mother held him by the shoulders, gently shook him, and made him listen to the terrible things she was saying. “I want you to live, Fast Pony. I want you to grow up safe, away from death and sickness. With a full belly. To send you away is like tearing out my own heart, but it must be done. You have always been the best son a mother could ever want, so do not argue with me now. Make me proud of your bravery. I only want what is best for you.”

  “What is best for me is to stay here with you, with all my cousins and friends.”

  He wiped his runny nose on his arm. Despite the warmth of the day, his teeth were chattering. He was frightened to death. He felt as if the earth had fallen out from under him and he was hanging over a deep, dark, bottomless pit.

  His mother wanted him to leave her and go back.

  “No!” he shouted, turning away from her, running back toward the camp. “I will not go! You cannot make me go back there!”

  He dodged children and dogs. Little Badger, a boy of twelve summers who always taunted him, shouted his name. Fast Pony ran on, blinded by tears. He was halfway through the encampment when the terrifying sound of the blue coats’ horn raked the air.

  He stopped running, too confused to move. Was he dreaming or was it really happening all over again? He turned, started to run back to where he had left his mother by the stream.

  The first shots were fired when the blue coats came swarming out of the wash. He was running back the way he had come when he tripped and fell headlong onto the hard ground. His knee was skinned, his palms, too, but he jumped up and kept on running.

  An old woman ran past him. She screamed and fell. Fast Pony nearly tripped over her body. He kept running. The blue coats were everywhere at once. Through the noise and smoke he saw his mother racing toward him, saw the fringe on her doeskin dress flying, her arms outstretched.

  She screamed his name.

  By midday, Kate was already trail weary and tired of tasting dust when they stopped in a sparse grove of trees along a river bottom. Since Reed was loath to light a fire, they ate a cold meal of hard cheese, apples, and biscuits.