Jesse reached out and cradled her jaw in his hand. “Above all, what matters is that we work out things between us. And we’ve got plenty of time for that. Right now, though,” he said as he leaned toward her, “I’m going to kiss you. Because, since that one and only time at the doctor’s house in Carbonville, I’ve been dreaming of doing it again . . . and again . . . and again.”
Shiloh lifted her face to him. “I would like that very much.”
As his lips neared hers, she closed her eyes. His kiss, at first, was tentative, his lips brushing hers with the lightest, most gentle of touches. But when she arched toward him, hungry for more, Jesse groaned and took her mouth with a fierce, ardent possession. His arms encircled her, pulling her close. Shiloh came to him eagerly, and for a long, glorious moment, there was no one in the world but them.
A twig cracked loudly nearby. Jesse released Shiloh and his hand went for his knife. Captain Jack stood there, an enigmatic smile on his lips.
“So, I see your woman is doing well,” he said. “She will soon be able to carry out her own chores again.”
Jesse stood. “She is better but still needs to allow her wound to fully heal. I am honored you cared to seek her out to discover this.”
“I came to speak with you.”
There was something in Jack’s tone that warned Shiloh the Ute didn’t want her around when he did so. She stood, brushed off the bits of bark clinging to her skirt, and nodded to the Ute chief.
“I’ve a fire to tend and will leave you two men to talk.”
With that, she made her way back up the path to the camp. As she did so, Jack turned to Jesse.
“It is good she can move about on her own. If she needs to ask for help from the other women, she can now do that,” she heard Jack say. “Because you and I will be leaving here at first light tomorrow.”
Jesse didn’t like the sound of Jack’s pronouncement. He watched until Shiloh was well out of earshot and sight, then met the other man’s gaze.
“Where will you and I be heading?” he asked.
“The fight is still going on with the soldiers.”
“Yes, I know that.” A prickle of unease ran down his spine.
“Indeed? I was beginning to wonder if you did. You’ve not mentioned a desire to join the rest of the men in fighting them.”
“Since my arrival from the hunting trip, and caring for Shiloh, there hasn’t been time to consider it. And it’s not like I haven’t fought in other battles.”
“Nonetheless, there’s been grumbling about your absence.” Jack shot him a considering look. “Some say your woman has convinced you not to fight her people.”
“Shiloh hasn’t said a word about that. She’s been too sick until the last day or so.”
“But, from where I found you two, and what you were doing,” his chief said, “I’d venture that she’s feeling a lot better now. Well enough to care for herself in your absence.”
He supposed it would come to this, sooner or later. Still, Jesse had hoped for more time to solidify his relationship with Shiloh before he was forced to join the other braves in fighting her people. That good fortune, however, was not to be.
“You know I’m not afraid of battle,” Jesse said, trying one last time to find some way out of this particular predicament. “And, from what I’ve been hearing, we outnumber the soldiers three to one, besides have them trapped and unable to flee. Is it necessary that I fight this time?”
“Why? So you can spare your woman’s feelings?”
Jesse sighed. “What we have building between us is still fragile. And Shiloh’s so intimately connected to the events that brought these soldiers here. She sees them as having come to rescue her and avenge what happened to the others at the Agency.”
Jack gave a disparaging snort. “Little good that’ll do any of them.” He paused, his gaze narrowing. “It is your choice, Nuaru. I only tell you this because you have fought hard to build your reputation among the People. They imagine you as totally devoted to them and our way of life. But if you step back from our ways by taking a white woman as wife and refusing to fight with the other braves . . . well, you may lose all you’ve worked so long to build with us.”
They were painful to hear, Jack’s words, but Jesse knew in his heart that his chief spoke true. He either joined the others and fought beside them, or his motives—and his commitment—would likely always be suspect. Yet another of his concerns over allowing himself to fall in love with Shiloh, he reminded himself, had raised its ugly head. His fear of someday having to make a choice for one side or the other.
“Your words hold great significance for me,” he said at long last. “I ask for this night to decide what I must do.”
“It is given. Will you speak with your woman about this?”
“I must. She deserves to know where I go, and why.”
“Just remember, you are the head of your family. She must learn this if your union is to survive.”
Jesse nodded. “I know.” He managed a bleak smile. “Many white women, though, aren’t raised with the same outlook.”
“Perhaps you should’ve thought of that before you fought Broken Antler for her then. He would never have asked her for permission.”
“No, he wouldn’t have,” Jesse admitted. “And I knew the problems that might confront us. Knew from the start.”
“I wish you luck then.” Without further ado, Jack turned back down the path leading to their camp.
When the Ute chief had finally disappeared from view, Jesse walked over and again sat down on the tree trunk. A long while later, he finally rose. With heavy heart, he headed back the way he’d come.
That evening, after they’d entered the tepee for the night, Shiloh listened to Jesse tell her the reason for Jack’s visit. She struggled to find words to express the roiling thoughts and emotions within her, but for once they evaded her. Finally, she sat down next to the small fire pit in the tepee’s center and began adding twigs to feed the flames.
“Say something, anything,” Jesse urged, worry threading his voice. “I know you’re not happy about this, but I’m duty bound to fight alongside the other braves. They are my people.”
Shiloh nearly bit her tongue to stifle the first response that came to mind. That white men were also his people. That now that he had spoken words of love to her, that he wished to marry her, he had taken the first steps back into the world he had heretofore turned his back upon. Something told her, however, to go easy on that.
“And you know as well as I,” she chose to say instead, attempting to make him see the logic of the situation if not yet the emotion of it, “that nothing good for the Utes will come of this. Even if they manage to kill these particular soldiers, more soldiers will come until the Utes are overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. And, this time, the soldiers will show them no mercy. Them and any who rode and fought with them, Jesse.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He walked over and lowered himself to sit beside her. “I knew what would likely happen when I decided to join the People. That, unless some miracle occurred, the White River Utes would either accept reservation life, be sent to the Indian Territory, or be annihilated. But when they took me in and came to treat me as their own, I did the same. For better or for worse, as the saying goes.”
Somehow, his use of a phrase spoken in taking marriage vows sent a shard of pain through her. She’d thought, when he’d finally admitted his love for her, that Jesse had worked through his conflicts over their differences. Now she wondered, and she was afraid. Very afraid.
“Where does that leave me then?” she softly asked, never taking her gaze from the fire. “With you about to ride off to kill some of my people?”
He inhaled a deep breath. “It leaves you safe here in this camp, along with all the other women and their children. Because I ride off with the other men to protect you and all the others. Because this is your life now as much as it is mine, and I’ll fight to the death to preserve it.”
Shiloh jerked around to stare at him in disbelief. “And who made that decision for me? That this is my life now? I didn’t choose it. I was taken captive and forced into it!”
“When I fought for you and won, when you became my woman, this became your life. Surely you understood that.”
The first tendrils of anger licked at her heart. “So, let me get this straight. Are you saying that, no matter who has me, I’m little more than a piece of chattel?”
“No, I’m not saying you’re a piece of chattel.” Jesse laughed. “Do any of the women in this camp act like they’re subservient to their husbands? Or, at least the ones who have good husbands, anyway? But you could say that about white men’s marriages too.”
“That’s not the point, Jesse Blackwater, and you know it!” Shiloh cried, frustrated at what seemed his obvious obtuseness. “For one thing, you can call me your woman all you want, but until we’re married—church married—I don’t have to obey you or follow you wherever you choose to go. And, for another, why does it have to be the Indian life for us? Maybe I don’t want that kind of life for me or any children we might have. Did you ever think of that?”
“Actually, I did,” he calmly replied. “But everything changed when you were taken captive. There’ll be no church wedding. It’s enough that we abide by the traditions of the People, which honor the Creator in the old ways, and honor marriage just as well. From here on out, those are what you’ll live by, and no other.”
Shiloh scooted back from him and awkwardly climbed to her feet. “And if I refuse? No matter what you say, you think I’m your property now. But how are you going to make me obey? By beating me? Ravishing me?”
Jesse looked up at her. “You know I’d never harm you in any way. In time, because I’m a patient man, you’ll come to accept this life and all its traditions. Because I love you, and you say you love me.” In one lithe, effortless motion, he stood. “Now, it’s growing late, and I must depart tomorrow at first light. I suggest you go to bed.”
“And where are you going?” she asked as he turned and headed toward the tepee flap covering the entrance.
“To tell Jack of my decision to join him and the other men. To fight the soldiers.”
Jesse didn’t return until very late. Shiloh had laid awake waiting for him, hoping for another chance to talk, but when the moment was finally upon her, her courage failed. What could she say to change his mind? He thought he had all the answers—and all the power.
In some ways it’d be easy to acquiesce to his demands. She had always loved him, and even in the face of Jesse’s suddenly autocratic manner, Shiloh found it hard to let all hope die. It would be a decided adjustment to live with the Utes. Their ways were still very foreign to her. She had never been afraid of hard, physical labor or simple living, though. And, perhaps once they accepted her as Jesse’s wife, they’d become more open to her teaching their children.
That had always been her goal, the dream nearest and dearest to her heart. Was the Lord’s hand in this somehow? At least in Jesse’s rescue and the claiming of her as his woman? The Bible spoke of God’s ability to bring good even from evil.
Yet what good was there in her becoming Jesse’s wife without the sanction of the Lord’s church? It was bad enough that Jesse had turned his back on Jesus. Still, Shiloh had hope that someday he’d return to his Christian faith. Perhaps God was using her to that purpose as well.
Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. Beneath the buffalo robe, she clasped her hands and lifted a silent prayer. A prayer for God to show her His will in all of this. A prayer to soften Jesse’s heart enough to permit a church wedding. She could compromise on many things—including living with Jesse and the Ute people—but she could never go against her Christian beliefs.
Not even for Jesse.
Help him to understand that, Lord, she prayed. Help him to respect that, for my sake if not for his own. And please, please inspire him to have a change of heart, and not fight and kill those poor soldiers. Because if he does, then I’ll know where his heart truly lies.
And it won’t be with me.
19
Shiloh hoped against hope that Jesse would change his mind, but the next morning as the first rays of the sun streaked the sky, he rode out with Jack and several other braves. She watched him go, silent, hurt, and angry. Then she reentered his tepee, washed as best she could, then finger-combed her hair and gingerly plaited it into a single braid using her right arm as little as possible in the process. Finally, she tied off the braid with a strip of leather, happy to be able to do yet one more thing for herself.
Kwana came with breakfast, and they shared it together. After breakfast they helped each other gather firewood for the day and jointly carried up a big basket of water from the creek before beginning the day’s baking. She enjoyed the old woman’s company, for she seemed to know when to speak and when to remain silent. And, for most of the morning, her companion appeared to choose not to speak unless absolutely necessary.
Around noon, there was a commotion in Douglas’s camp. Soon a rider arrived and ordered the old woman to take Shiloh into her tepee and not let her out until further notice. Shiloh considered refusing, then thought better of it. Without Jesse there, things might not go well for her if she created a stir.
Three hours later, a woman from a neighboring tepee poked her head inside. “It’s all right for you both to come out now. The white man has gone.”
As soon as she had exited and assisted Kwana from the tepee, Shiloh hurried over to grab her neighbor’s arm. “A white man was here?”
“Yes,” the other woman replied, pulling her arm from Shiloh’s clasp. “Not that it’s any concern of yours. He came from the great Chief Ouray, who sent a message for us to stop fighting the soldiers.”
Excitement shot through Shiloh. “And will the Utes do so, do you think?”
The woman shrugged. “Who knows? Likely so, I’d imagine. Our chiefs respect Ouray. But we’ll know more if and when all our men return.”
If a rider had been sent out to the battle site, the odds were strong he might even catch up with Jesse and the other men before they had a chance to reach the soldiers. Which meant Jesse wouldn’t kill any soldiers.
A passing joy filled her, before the cold, hard facts of reality returned. The problem between them was still there. The fact that Jesse had chosen to follow his Ute comrades, rather than respect her wishes in the matter. And, even deeper still, the issue of him choosing his Ute heritage over his love for her.
But wasn’t that exactly what he was also asking of her? To choose her love for him over her own people? Problem was, they both loved the lives they were currently living, and it seemed one of them would have to totally give up that life, if there was to be any hope of any lasting relationship between them. And there were some aspects of her life Shiloh just couldn’t give up.
The only bright spot in it all was that the soldiers would survive. And that Chief Ouray was involved now. There was hope that in all the negotiations that were sure to follow, she and the other Agency women would soon be freed. Still, when that occurred, it would complicate things with Jesse.
There were greater problems between them, however, than what he’d do when they were freed. Problems that included a clash of cultures and Jesse’s seeming refusal to compromise on anything. Problems that threatened to destroy any hopes of a life together.
Shiloh almost dreaded their pending confrontation. And she seriously wondered now if those problems could truly be overcome.
Two days later, word came to move camp again. Jesse, along with Douglas, Jack, and all the other men, had returned from Milk Creek. Word now, though, was that even more soldiers were headed their way from Fort Steele in Rawlins. Most of the camp was unsettled, afraid of what would happen once the soldiers caught up with them.
A week later they moved camp again, this time traveling for nearly twenty miles in a very bad windstorm and ending up near the Grand River. The next day, they moved ye
t again to a place surrounded by high mountains where the Utes could watch the approaching soldiers with binoculars they’d taken during the Milk Creek battle.
They remained there for two days, and at noon of the third day, they traveled on yet again when scouts reported that the soldiers had passed the Agency and had come to within fifteen miles south of them. Everyone seemed to be in a panic, with squaws scurrying about taking down tepees and packing. Some of the ponies even got loose to gallop about the camp and add to the sense of urgency and fear. They made ten miles by the end of the day and set up camp on Roan Creek, where there was plenty of grass, trees, and water.
All the work of packing camp and moving so often, combined with multiple meetings with the chiefs to discuss what to do about the approaching soldiers, provided Jesse with ample excuse not to spend a lot of time during the day with Shiloh.
He imagined she was avoiding talking with him as much as he was with her. Since his decision to join the other braves in fighting the soldiers at Milk Creek, despite her pleas to the contrary, an almost palpable tension hung between them. He knew he had hurt her and that she thought he’d chosen the People over her, but it wasn’t as clear-cut as all that.
Jesse wanted a life with Shiloh, living among the People. However, to accomplish that, he had to maintain the trust and respect he’d worked so long to build with the Utes. He had to carry his fair share of the responsibilities expected of all able-bodied braves, and that sometimes included fighting to protect the camp. That such expectations might at times put him in direct conflict with Shiloh’s people was an issue they’d yet to come to terms with.
“We move out again first thing tomorrow,” he announced that night when he finally crawled into his tepee to find Shiloh finishing up with the supper meal preparation. She looked hale and hearty now, and no longer wore the sling to protect her now-healed wound. Except for a bit of lingering stiffness in her arm and shoulder, she seemed as good as new.
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