A Love Forbidden (28 page)

As the sun dipped toward the west, a cool breeze began to blow. Shiloh hunkered down within the blanket she’d wrapped around her. Every mile they rode toward home and freedom was another mile away from a life she’d once thought would be hers. A life with Jesse.

The admission sent a shard of pain through her heart. She had always loved him, and always would. There was just no hope left for them. But love . . . there would always be love.

Jesse fingered the tooled silver eagle, silent and torn between pain and an unwanted sense of finality, of completion. That Shiloh had worn this since the day he’d given it to her filled him with joy. But the fact she’d now returned it to him also ripped open wounds he’d thought he’d managed to close. Perhaps not yet healed but at least closed.

“That was all she said, that this had been with her since the day I gave it to her?” Jesse asked Kwana the evening of the women’s departure.

Not certain he could watch Shiloh ride off, he had stayed away the entire day. It had been an excruciating sacrifice to let her go, but he’d done it for the sake of the People. The People, who meant more to him than anything he’d ever known.

Anything except Shiloh . . .

Furiously, Jesse clamped down on that traitorous thought, then crammed it back into the farthest recesses of his mind. The People were all that mattered. They
had
to be.

Kwana eyed him disdainfully. “And why would you wish to know more? Why make the parting even harder for yourself than it already is? You already know she loves you and would’ve sacrificed almost everything for you. And that still wasn’t enough. So how could a few more words from her now make any difference?”

Anger flared, hot and bright, before Jesse was able to tamp it down. Kwana and Shiloh had become close in the past weeks. It was understandable that the old woman was on Shiloh’s side.

Her words were also wise. What was the matter with him, that he seemed so intent on wringing the last bit of agony that he could out of this? To punish himself for his cruelty to Shiloh in refusing two simple requests? To flail his heart one more time for his selfishness, his fear, his inability to forgive himself?

Fool!

“You’re right,” Jesse said with a nod. “Nothing’s accomplished by dragging this out. And, as you say, it makes no difference.”

He closed his fingers around the silver eagle. “I thank you for giving this to me.” With a nod, Jesse turned to go when Kwana laid a hand on his arm.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” she said, her dark eyes piercing clear through to his soul. “All it takes is for you to face your pain and see it through to its end. The soul pain. The spirit pain.” She pointed north. “Go. Find your
poo-gat
and speak with him. Now, before it’s too late.”

With that, the old woman released him and hurried away.

Jesse watched her go, mystified at what she had said and meant. One thing he did understand was her instruction to find his poo-gat. The one who knows the way.

Frustration filled him. There was only one man whom he would ever consider his poo-gat, and Jesse had no idea how to find him. That man was Brother Thomas.

“What will you do with your life, Shiloh? Now that your dream of teaching the Indian children is over?”

Snugly ensconced in the library, with a fire blazing in the hearth to ward off the chill November day, Shiloh glanced up from the chemise she was mending. The lace border had finally come loose after many washings and was so fragile she was tempted to rip it all off and apply new lace. The frustration with the task did little to soothe her frayed nerves or the sudden surge of defensiveness her sister’s question engendered.

Yet, when she met Jordan’s curious gaze, she saw no smug sense of “I told you so” or barely veiled meanness. Her blue-green eyes were serene, if concerned. And that was all. No more, no less.

It had been nearly five weeks since her return from her captivity with the Utes, and Thanksgiving was in just another few days. After leaving the Ute camp, it had taken them a four-day ride to reach Ouray’s house on the Uncompahgre River near the Uncompahgre Indian Agency. After resting overnight there, where they were most kindly treated by Chipeta, Ouray’s wife, the other women and children continued their journey on mail coaches to Alamosa. There they boarded a train to Denver, eventually arriving in Greeley, where the Meekers had a home. Amidst tearful farewells, Josie had promised to write Shiloh just as soon as she got home, and the two young women made plans to visit each other.

Shiloh stayed behind while a telegraph message was sent to Ashton, which was delivered to Castle Mountain Ranch the next day. As she awaited her brother Cord’s arrival, she enjoyed the hospitality and unexpected luxuries of Ouray and Chipeta’s home. It had Brussels carpets, glass windows with window curtains, good beds, rocking chairs, mirrors, and an ornately carved bureau. Chief Ouray, Shiloh observed, had wholeheartedly tried to adapt to the ways of his white brothers. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been enough to convince most of his people to do the same.

That time, if it ever arrived, would be long in coming, Shiloh thought as she pulled her attention back to the present. And, in the days that passed since her return home, she had long mulled over Jordan’s exact question. What
would
she do with her life, now that her dream of teaching the Ute children was over? Or was it?

“I’m considering taking Ouray up on his offer to come to the Uncompahgre Indian Agency and teach the children there,” Shiloh finally replied as she continued to industriously stitch the lace back on the chemise. “At least there, thanks to his influence, the parents are willing to have their children educated.”

“So, you’re bound and determined to become a spinster schoolmarm, are you?”

Shiloh chuckled along with her sister, even as a sharp, sudden longing for Jesse stabbed through her. The hurt would dull in time, she well knew, but it would take a while. A long while.

“Maybe so,” she replied. “You just never know. In the meanwhile, I’ll certainly have my fill of children. Day in and day out. I’ll just be able to send them all home at the end of each day.” She managed a weak grin. “Can’t think of a more perfect way to have my cake and eat it too.”

“That half-breed. Jesse,” Jordan ventured, evidently catching some undercurrent of sadness in her sister’s voice. “Whatever happened to him? Emma told me he’d brought you back from the Agency when you heard I was . . . hurt.”

And what else did Emma tell you?
Shiloh thought.
Well, no matter.
“He’s still with the White River Utes. They took him in a long while ago, and he’s happy there.”

Jordan glanced briefly away, then riveted the full force of her gaze on her. “Emma said you were in love with him. What happened?”

Shiloh had hoped never to have to explain that to anyone. And, until Jordan’s query just now, no one had asked. Somehow, they must have sensed that things hadn’t turned out well between her and Jesse.

But Jordan, since her injury, had become far more direct and open, casting aside a lot of the social niceties. And Shiloh knew she asked now because she truly cared.

“It just didn’t work out,” she said, ducking her head and pretending to concentrate on a troublesome stitch gone awry. “There were some differences between us that we just couldn’t seem to compromise on.”

“Was one of those differences because of me? Because of what I did to Jesse all those years ago when I lied?”

Shiloh’s head jerked up. Sadness darkened her sister’s eyes.

“No.” She shook her head. “Jesse understood you were afraid of being punished, not to mention what being with him would’ve done to your reputation. If you’d willingly gone with him, I mean, and encouraged his kiss.”

“So, it was other things then.” There was an edge of relief in Jordan’s voice.

“Yes,” Shiloh softly replied. “Other things.”

At one time, she had imagined that perhaps God had sent her to help both the Utes and Jesse. To help him back to the Lord. Help Jesse by her love, her compassion, and her self-sacrifice in the service of his people. But just as her dream of being Jesus to the Utes had failed, and failed miserably, so had her attempts to help Jesse.

Her sister sighed, and the sound jerked Shiloh’s attention back to the present. “Well, I’m glad that he no longer hates me,” Jordan said. “I just wish that I’d had a chance to apologize when he was here.”

I wish you had too
, Shiloh thought.
Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything between us, but at least Jesse could finally set that particular hurt aside. And know that one more white person was decent and kind, who saw him as a human being, a child of God, instead of someone beneath contempt because of his mixed blood.

That long-held pain of Jesse’s wounded her far more than their failed relationship. That he struggled still to find total peace and acceptance. And self-forgiveness for killing his father.

Shiloh wondered if he ever would, if he didn’t turn back to his Christian faith and find what he needed most of all in the arms of the Lord. Find love, acceptance, and a tender mercy. Only there, cradled in God’s embrace, would Jesse finally find his true self.

And there, drenched in the audacity of God’s mercy, nothing else would ever make him feel unworthy again.

Thanksgiving Day, Shiloh got up early to help Emma and Sarah with all the preparations, while Jordan, with Danny’s help, watched Ceci and baby Caleb. An hour before the big meal, with nearly all the food either done or cooking, the table in the dining room set in a grand fashion, and the house spic-and-span, Shiloh was finally free. She decided to go for a short ride.

The day was crisp and cold but sunny. A recent storm had covered the valley and the nearby mountain peaks in a pristine blanket of snow. The tangy scent of wood smoke filled the air, and she inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar smell.

It was a glorious day to be outside, with the anticipation of a fine Thanksgiving meal with family and friends only adding to Shiloh’s pleasure. She loved this ranch and had from the first day she’d arrived here so very long ago. Loved the family who was always there for her when she needed them. Who had supported and comforted her in the past weeks as she’d slowly struggled to come to terms with the events of the White River Massacre and her parting from Jesse.

Above all, she loved the Lord Jesus, who had never left her even in her darkest moments. Especially those dark moments after the massacre that only now, when she was finally free of her Ute captives, she could finally and fully allow herself to relive and consider. And though the intensity of her emotions regarding those terrible days still sometimes staggered her, Shiloh also realized that, at the time, controlling and even denying them had been her only way to keep her sanity, to survive.

Leastwise, she added with a sad little smile, until Jesse had come to her rescue and staked his claim upon her. Only then had the unrelenting fear eased, for she had felt so safe and cherished with him by her side. So safe, cherished, and loved . . .