To Find You Again (18 page)

He released Emma's hair.
"Kuta?"

She lowered him to the ground as he'd asked, and he immediately dashed off to join a group of children his age.

Emma's gaze followed him, and she fought the urge to scoop him back up and never let him go.

"He's grown so much," she said to Talutah.

"Ha.
Soon he will begin his training with a
leksi."
Pride was evident in the older woman's tone.

Chayton didn't have an uncle in the white man sense, but according to Lakota definition, every warrior in the village was Uncle. Just as any male elder was Grandfather to everyone in the tribe.

"Who will train him?" Emma asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Hotah has offered."

Emma frowned. She remembered him as a bold warrior with a wide streak of cruelty. His bloodthirsty exploits were often told around the fire. He was also one of the few who had disapproved of her living among them.

"Why can't Fast Elk teach him?" Emma asked.

"He is old. He says it is a young man's duty." Talutah shrugged. "I know you do not like Hotah, but he is a skilled warrior. Chayton will learn well under him."

Not if I can help it.

Emma sought Chayton and spotted him dashing around, his legs a blur. She couldn't help but smile at his antics.

"He is always running, and keeps the young girls from becoming lazy in their task," Talutah commented, obviously noting the direction of Emma's gaze.

It appeared Chayton had flourished among his Lakota family. Emma should've been relieved and pleased, but the realization that he'd been fine without her saddened her.

"I saw you fall under a white soldier's blade," Talutah said, her eyes troubled. "Everyone believed you did not live."

Emma dragged her attention away from her son. "I was wounded. They carried me back to my white parents where it took me many moons to heal. Finally, I was able to come look for Chayton. I am grateful you cared for my son."

Talutah shrugged matter-of-factly. It was the way of the People. "Who is this
wasicu
who rides with you?"

"A friend." Emma decided there was no reason to expose the details of their meeting and subsequent journey together.

"He is not like the others?"

"No. He is honorable and brave."

Talutah called over a boy maybe eight years old. "Take care of their horses."

Puffing out his chest, the boy nodded solemnly. He trotted over to Ridge and without a word, took the reins from his hand. Ridge relinquished the horses with a nod at the boy, and strolled toward Emma, his expression unfathomable.

"I take it you found your people," Ridge said.

His drawl caressed Emma's insides. "Some of them. Ridge, I'd like you to meet my adoptive mother, Talutah."

He touched the brim of his hat while the woman bowed her head.

"My husband will be back from the hunt soon," Talutah said.

"I look forward to meeting him," Ridge stated in the native language.

"I will prepare a lodge for you, and find clothing for my daughter." Talutah left them standing there.

"Something you forgot to tell me, Emma?" There was a razor's edge to his casual question.

"Would you have brought me here if you'd have known?" She crossed her arms stubbornly.

"Probably not."

"That's what I thought."

"You have any more surprises?"

"No. At least, none I can think of right now."

"That ain't very comforting," Ridge growled. "We can't stay here long. Even though those scalps were from another tribe, next time they might be white scalps."

"I lived with them. They won't hurt us."

"Those who knew you then might not, but them young bucks that brought us in are itching to count coup. I figure it's only a matter of time until they throw in with Crazy Horse."

A stooped man with straggly gray hair hobbled over to them. A colorful blanket was draped over his thin shoulders and he limped noticeably, but his eyes were penetrating and intelligent.

"Come," the elder merely said.

He led them to an ornately painted lodge and entered, motioning for them to follow. Emma's eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light and she seated herself close to the tipi wall, leaving Ridge and the chief to sit nearer the fire pit in the middle of the floor. Moments later a squaw carried in two bowls of stew. She set them in front of Ridge and the chief.

As the men began to eat with their fingers, Emma surveyed the lodge and noticed Ridge's weapons on a pile of hides behind the leader. She suspected they'd stay there until Ridge left.

Another bowl was brought in and placed in front of Emma. Although her stomach was in knots from wanting to be near Chayton, she couldn't insult their host, especially the leader.

They ate in silence and after they were finished, a pipe was lit and the two men shared puffs for a few minutes before the elder began.

"I am Akecheta, leader of the Wolf band of the Brule Lakota," the man said. He gazed at Emma shrewdly. "You are Winona of the Elk band, and Chayton is your son."

"Yes," Emma replied, trying to hide her apprehension.

"Your band was attacked by soldiers. Some died; many were taken to the white man's reservation. They escaped and we welcome them." He puffed in silence, the smoke wreathing his lined face and then rising lazily toward the opening at the top of the conical-shaped lodge.

Emma and Ridge exchanged looks, but knew better than to hurry the meeting along. It would be a grave discourtesy to press Akecheta.

"Why do you return?" Akecheta finally asked, his dark eyes pinning Emma.

"To see my son," she stated firmly.

"You have seen him."

Her gaze flickered to Ridge, but he only shrugged. His expression clearly said,
You wanted to find him and you did. Now what?

"You cannot stay. We want no reason to bring the soldiers to our village. We are a peaceful band and we do not want war," Akecheta said.

Although Emma hadn't planned on staying, she hated to have the option taken away. Still, she was relieved the chief preferred peace to war. "I understand. I would like to visit my family and friends before I return. Is that allowed?"

Akecheta smiled, exposing brown stumps of teeth. "A visit is allowed."

"Thank you." She barely restrained a shout of victory.

The wise elder aimed a piercing look at Ridge. "You wear the face of a white eyes scout."

Suddenly frightened for Ridge's safety, Emma opened her mouth to speak, but Ridge shook his head curtly and she swallowed her words.

"I am no longer a scout for the white eyes," he said to the leader.

Akecheta scrutinized him silently and Ridge held his gaze. Then the chief set the pipe down and nodded. Their meeting was over.

Emma and Ridge rose quietly and slipped out of the lodge. Dusky shadows had fallen while they'd been in the tipi.

"How long, Emma?" Ridge asked.

She pretended not to hear him and continued walking, intent on finding Chayton.

Ridge grasped her wrist. "You made a promise, and I aim to hold you to it."

She jerked out of his grip. "Don't worry, Ridge, you'll get your two hundred dollars."

"I'm not worried about getting it; it's the when I'm thinking of."

"You gave me one week."

Ridge's jaw muscle jumped and his eyes narrowed. "One week. Unless Akecheta tells us to leave sooner."

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to see my son."

She wove her way between cooking fires and tipis, following the sound of children's laughter. She'd prayed for this day for so long, it was difficult to believe it had arrived.

Now came the second part of her plan—keeping Chayton with her.

Ridge sat outside, close to the lodge he and Emma had been offered, blending into the deep shadows of the night. He listened to the rhythmic cadence of the drums and the rise and fall of singing voices; he observed the swirling bodies as the Indians—both men and women—danced around the camp. Their skin reflected the firelight, making them appear like night creatures, dipping in and out of the shadows.

He raised a crude cup to his lips and swallowed some of the bittersweet drink. He knew it would make him muddle-headed if he drank too much, so he only sipped small amounts. Being in the Lakota camp he had to remain alert even though the chief had given them his consent to visit.

Ridge patted his belly, which had been more than satisfied. Besides the food he'd eaten in the chief's lodge, he'd also partaken of the fresh venison, which the successful hunters had brought back. Emma had pointed out Fast Elk, her adopted father, a husky man with strands of gray in his long black hair and a stoic face that revealed little. His gaze was direct and although he was wary of Ridge, he didn't appear hostile... which was more than he could say for the majority of the young bucks.

Fourteen years ago Ridge had come and gone among the Sioux, counting many of them friends and he'd not worried about his safety. But times had changed.

He leaned back against the stretched buffalo hide wall, but his wariness didn't fade. He and Emma were far too vulnerable in this village, although Emma had some protection from her adopted parents. He hoped she would remain safe.

She sat with her son between Talutah and another woman beside a nearby lodge. The three women were talking and smiling, no doubt trading gossip just like all females, no matter the color of their skin. Emma was wearing a buckskin dress with a hide tossed over her shoulders for extra warmth, and moccasins that fit better than the pair he'd loaned her. Her golden-brown hair was braided into two plaits and if not for the color, and her lighter skin, she could've passed for a Lakota squaw.

Emma turned her head and caught his eye. Heat shot through Ridge's blood at her raw beauty and the memory of what lay beneath the soft deerhide dress. She said something to Talutah then rose gracefully and guided her sleepy son toward Ridge. She sank down beside him, her legs folded to the side beneath her. Chayton immediately curled up with his head on her thighs.

Ridge took the time to study the boy whose droopy eyes had closed the moment he laid down. After leaving Akecheta's lodge, Ridge had checked on their horses, and then strolled around the camp. He hadn't had a chance to really look at Emma's son until now.

"He's a handsome boy, Emma," Ridge said quietly.

"His father was tall and handsome," she said proudly. Her smile faded. "There were many who thought Enapay should have married one of the Lakota maidens, but he chose me. He was a stubborn man." She paused, her gaze softening. "You remind me of him. He never spoke much either, but he was brave and honorable."

Ridge glanced away, uncomfortable with both the praise and being compared to her husband. "Were you forced to marry him?"

Her eyes widened. "Of course not." Her sight turned inward. "He would play his flute for me in the evenings, then drape a buffalo skin over us." She smiled self-consciously. "It was so different from what I'd grown up with. Mother would've had a fit if I sat outside in the dark with a young man without a chaperone." She laughed, the sound like bells tinkling in the breeze. "Enapay seemed so shy at first and I wasn't certain what I was supposed to do, but together we figured it out."

Ridge remembered how open she'd been during their lovemaking. She'd obviously learned a lot with her husband. "Did you love him?" The question slipped out before he could bridle it.

Emma gazed down at her son and brushed a dark lock from his smooth brow. "He provided well for Chayton and me." She took a deep breath and her troubled eyes met Ridge's. "I remember the first time he came back from a raid carrying a bloody scalp. I thought I was going to be sick. Talutah scolded me, told me that I would embarrass my husband if I didn't celebrate his victory with him. I joined in, but I hated every time he came back with one of his prizes. And then there were the times when he would return with a book or two for me. I tried not to think about how he'd gotten them or who they'd belonged to, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the killing.

"Enapay was respected and admired in the tribe, and I was proud he was my husband. But love?" She shook her head sadly. "No, I don't think I loved him like a wife should love her husband. He deserved better."

Ridge wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pleased by her confession yet knowing how much it hurt to admit her shortcoming. Relishing the warmth of her against his side, he said quietly, "But you cared for him and gave him a son. He had more than a lot of men ever get out of life."

"Is that what you're looking for? A woman who'll care for you and give you children?" She seemed to peer straight into his soul.

"I'm looking for a woman who'll work with me to raise our children and build something that'll last," Ridge corrected.

"But what about love?"

He gazed down into her shadowed face, noting the fire reflected in her eyes and her full, glistening lips. "I don't remember much about my real pa, but I do recall how he used to tease Ma and how she used to giggle like a young girl. Then he'd hug and kiss her, and they'd talk in low voices. I didn't understand back then, but I figured out later, a few years after Pa died, that was love. My friend Colt loved his wife, too, but she was killed. Damn near drove him over the edge." He took a deep breath. "I don't ever want to go through the pain they did when they lost their loved ones."

Emma's brow furrowed and Ridge resisted the urge to brush his thumb across the wrinkles.

"But doesn't the joy of loving outweigh the sadness of losing that love?" she asked.

Ridge rested his palm on the boy's head, surprised by his hair's softness, and then gazed at the woman deliberately. "You tell me, Emma."

She looked down at Chayton and her heart did a little roll at the sight of Ridge's large but gentle hand resting atop her son's crown. She forced herself to consider his question. "I wouldn't trade anything for having borne him," she replied firmly. "And loving him."

Emma couldn't see Ridge's eyes, but she suspected he was startled by her vehemence. Chayton was her heart and soul, and during those times she despaired of finding him alive, she wasn't certain she'd survive the torment. But now, with her precious son in her arms, she recognized the depth of her love for him. She took a shaky breath. "I think the higher the reward, the higher the risk. It's like a poker game. The more money that's in the pot, the higher the stakes of winning or losing."