For a while he said nothing. His hand rested on my stomach. I wonder if he knew what kind of life was growing there. When we reached the Indian camp, I would tell him about the pregnancy. But for now...

  “I love you too, Boston,” he said.

  The wind took away our words. The little town where we had stayed these weeks became a fading dot on the horizon. It was funny how things could change. Between one week and the next I never knew where I’d be laying my head down. But with Cal’s protection, I never had anything to fear.

  He was my protector. My provider. My love.

  I touched the silver ring on my finger. In a fit of impulse he’d spent some of his savings on it. I hadn’t approved, but now it gave me some comfort. What we had was real.

  “You thought I was a son-of-a-bitch,” he murmured. “What do you think now?”

  “I think,” I said softly, “You’re the most interestin’ man I’ve ever met.”

  He kissed the skin below my ear. “And?”

  “You want me to go on? Alright. Interestin’, stubborn, bull-headed, thick-skulled...” I squeaked as he pinched my nipple, startling Big Girl.

  “Hey now,” he said. His hand slipped under the calico shirt and cupped a round breast. “You got some more meat on you now. I like my women thick.”

  I moaned as his fingertips brushed my sensitive buds again.

  “Arrogant,” I added. “Stubborn.”

  “You said that already.”

  “Alright. So ask me somethin’ else.”

  “I got two questions,” he said immediately.

  “Alright.”

  “First- how about in an hour, we stop and have a tumble in the grass?”

  “Oh I don’t know, Cal.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He squeezed my thigh.

  I laughed. “What’s the second question.”

  “I want you to tell me what our house is gonna look like, when we get to California.”

  “Why?”

  “I got to know how I’m gonna build it, Ada.”

  The long miles were ahead of us. We moved through cool silence, through nodding grass, through gusts of wind that bore smells and stories of other folks from different corners of the country. It felt like we were the only two in the world. We were in love. We were going somewhere. Nothing mattered but that.

  I told Cal about the house and he told me he would build it. I put a hand on my stomach over his. The urge to tell him about the baby nearly took the words out of my mouth. But I promised myself I would wait.

  For now, I wanted it to be just the two of us.

  And right now felt a lot like forever. I stared out at the moving sea of land and sky and smiled.

  “What you thinkin’ about?” he asked.

  “You know Cal,” I said. “I’m thinkin’ that everything’s gonna work out just fine.”

  EPILOGUE

  We came to the Kiowa camp in early September. In that time of year the buffalo hunts were winding down, and so were the raids from enemy tribes. For the Kiowa it was a time of preparation. On the plains the seasons could turn in the blink of an eye.

  We rode in on Cal’s horse, Big Girl. Iron Eye himself came out to meet us. He greeted us like we were old friends.

  “The Kickapoo is here,” he told Cal. Sure enough, Joseph came striding out from the ring of tipis. In the time since we’d last seen him, his hair had grown out. But he looked much the same. His broad, kindly face wrinkled in a smile.

  “Hello, Buffalo Girl,” he said. “I knew you two would be coming.”

  I fingered the loose naps in my hair, grinning. I guess I did look like a Buffalo to him, with the wind blowing my dark wool-like hair about my face.

  “Did you dream about it?” I asked.

  “No. I saw you from over the ridge.”

  Many months had passed since we’d last entered Iron Eye’s camp. But things seemed the same. The clothes of the women were different, and the young men were more somber. Many of these men went bare-chested, despite the chilly weather. Their chests bore deep scars not yet healed, and their eyes were hollow.

  But around the camp, everything bustled. Everyone seemed in a great big hurry. Women were carting out bowls and pots of food to the central fire. They laid out buffalo robes. Some other men, big-bellied braves in their middle life, were oiling drums.

  “Is something happening tonight?”

  “War party leaves tomorrow,” said Joseph. “The last of the season.”

  He stopped to pick up a fallen feather on the ground. “And I believe there is a wedding.”

  “Looks like we came just in time.”

  “Yes, why are you and the Yellow-Hair back so soon?”

  “Soon? It’s been months.”

  I would find out the purpose of our visit soon enough. Joseph, who always seemed more comfortable in the presence of women than men, kept close to me. As Cal did his business with Iron Eye, we wandered around the camp and talked.

  “So, you want to go to California. What is in California?”

  “A new start,” I said. “Cal is thinkin’ about ranchin’ for a man he knows.”

  He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

  “White folks won’t be too happy about him bein’ with me,” I said. “But I’m sure once they see what he’s capable of, they’ll come ‘round to the idea.”

  Joseph nodded.

  “And besides,” I rushed to add, “There’s lots of folks in California, like us. White and black and...Indian.”

  “It is a difficult thing, to be on one’s own.”

  “Well, we still have each other.”

  “Better to start a family right away. Give him good sons, children to keep you company.”

  “Or daughters!” I exclaimed, blushing. And then I added, “Don’t tell Cal. He doesn’t know yet.”

  Joseph blinked. “Know what?”

  I could have kicked myself. “Oh, shoot. I mean- I’m goin’ to have a baby. I thought you knew.”

  “How would I know a thing like that, Buffalo Girl?” laughed Joseph. And without warning, he put a hand on my stomach, over the blue calico shirt.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed.

  “A healthy boy,” he said, giving me one of his rare smiles. I resisted the urge to hug him again.

  We sat in the grass near the edge of the horse herd, grass already turning brown in the late, dry summer. We did not speak. Joseph looked out at the endless sea of earth and sky. He had a funny expression on his face.

  “I will be going back to the Kickapoo tonight,” he said.

  “Stay,” I begged.

  “Oh no. I don’t want to stay too long with the Kiowa. The young boys might decide to kill me.”

  “Iron Eye wouldn’t let them.”

  He laughed. “Maybe. Look- there’s the Yellow Hair. I must go.”

  And he said farewell, and left.

  Cal’s handsome face shone with excited light. He fell down next to me with a happy sigh. “You’re alright?”

  “Sure enough.”

  “You won’t believe what’s goin’ on in there.”

  My ears picked up a steady beat of drumming, and the raised voices of men singing.

  “Are they startin’ already? Is it the war party?”

  “No. The wedding comes first.”

  “I thought Indians didn’t make a fuss about that sort of thing.”

  “Not all Indians is the same, Ada. The Kickapoo don’t fuss about that. And the Kiowa don’t either- really..”

  “So?”

  “Fox is gettin’ married. Remember him?”

  Yeah, I remembered Fox. That hotheaded Indian man- with his equally hotheaded wife. I had been looking around for Brave Bird ever since we got to the camp.

  “Fox? Fox is gettin’ married?”

  “Sure. Don’t know if you remember, but he’s a bit more of a dandy than the rest. He thinks this weddin’ is somethin’ special. And I don’t want to miss that ceremony. So let’s get on up and see it.”

  Shrugging, I dusted myself off and followed him into the camp.

  As soon as we entered the music overwhelmed. Food was in abundance. Kiowa milled about, talking, laughing, or simply sitting still in awe of the music. Cal and I sat in an honorary position, next to Iron Eye. Someone draped a blanket over my shoulder, covering me appropriately, I guess. Cal stretched out his long legs and took what was passed to him.

  “They expect you to feed me,” he said, grinning. “As my wife.”

  “Huh! I guess you can take from a bowl just as well as I can.”

  He grabbed my wrist. Slowly, he moved it up to his mouth. He nibbled at the piece of cornbread between my fingers.

  “Wretch,” I said.

  He squeezed my thigh, and peered around the fire.

  “Look,” he said. “There’s Fox.”

  The young Kiowa sat across from us. Proud and handsome as I remembered. His face was flushed with excitement. Raw scars rippled on his chest, still healing from the Sun Dance. Brave Bird sat at his right hand, in the position of First Wife. She did not look so hard-faced now. She was laughing.

  “Time changes everythin’,” I murmured to Cal. “A few months ago I never would have imagined I’d be in an Indian camp, in the middle of God-knows-where.”

  “Or married to a cowboy.”

  “That, too.”

  He shifted, reaching again for a handful of roasted corn, then passing the steaming basket to another Kiowa. “I meant to ask you about that, Ada. About our wedding.”

  “Oh? What about it?”

  “I know it wasn’t special,” he said. “I know you felt a kind of way about it.”

  “Oh, Cal.”

  “It’s alright. How about this. I promise once we get to California, I’ll make it up to you. In the finest style I can.”

  “We don’t got much, Cal. I don’t want you throwin’ away what we have just to butter me up.”

  “Oh, we got some things. I’m securin’ a drive with Iron Eye. I’m gettin’ some horses from him. We’re gonna drive those out West and make some money sellin’ ‘em.”

  I looked at him. “What? What did you have to pay for that deal?”

  But I was interrupted by a sudden procession. Into the camp shuffled six Comanche- two women and four men. One of the women had a blanket draped over her head, concealing her face.

  At the sight of them the camp broke into excited babble. Behind us, more Comanche came through. The smell of stew and roasting buffalo meat grew stronger. Instinctively I huddled close to Cal. I remembered some of the Comanche had ridden with Sam Twist. I found it hard to trust them.

  The two Comanche women came over to where Fox sat. The uncovered woman began to speak with him.

  Iron Eye leaned over to us. “This woman is not Comanche.”

  “The covered one?” said Cal, translating for me out the side of his mouth.

  “Yes. She is a girl they stole.” Iron Eye rolled his eyes up to the sky. “My son is impatient and greedy. He will have a wife from all tribes in the world, if he could.”

  The old Kiowa broke off muttering to himself. Cal raised his eyebrows, not very interested. He leaned back to me. “What was I saying?”

  “About the drive. Iron Eye is helpin’ you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What are you doin’ for him in return?”

  Cal shifted. “I already did him a favor. I killed the biggest horse thief in the Southern Plains.”

  I couldn’t miss the catch in his voice. “Sam, you mean,” I said.

  “That’s right. Iron Eye’s decided to reward me for it. I guess the raids this summer paid off- he’s got more horses than he knows what to do with. He’s decided to be generous.”

  “How generous, Cal?”

  “I get sixteen from his herd. If I can break ‘em in by the time the first snow comes, we’ll have ourselves some fine horseflesh to put to market.”

  “Enough to get us to California?”

  “Sure,” said Cal. He winked at me. “If you know the right way.”

  I smiled. Of course, that meant Joseph would be coming with us. I reached my hand out and took his. I didn’t care if it wasn’t proper. If the other Indian men would scoff. At that moment I loved Cal more than anything else in the world. I wished I could pour all my love out into a great big jug and hold it to his lips. I wished I could show him how deep that love ran.

  His handsome gold head was turned up, his chin thrusting towards the fire. He closed slanting green eyes against its glare. The drumming softened. It took shape, weaving like a thread of fire among us all. I felt the pulse of it as constant and strong as the beating of my own heart.

  “We’re gonna be happy,” I said lowly. “And no one can take that away from us.”

  Cal’s voice sounded husky. He squeezed my hand. “You, me, and that baby.”

  I started. “How’d you know about that?”

  “I been keepin’ track of some things, Miss Boston.”

  I took a deep breath. “Are you happy?”

  A long pause. “Yes,” he said, full of feeling. “More than I can say.”

  At that moment Fox stood up. He called for everyone’s attention. Drifting on a high of happiness and love, I only half paid attention to Cal’s translations. Fox said he was ready for the winter after counting many coup that summer. The tribe had grown stronger. They had taken horses from all across the plains- they were the richest tribe in the world. The strongest. The fiercest. In the Sun Dance, many men had shown their bravery. He was proud to be of Gaigwu, of The People.

  Then Fox made a big show of raising up his new Comanche bride. The woman’s covering wobbled. We could not see her face.

  He said that by marrying this woman he hoped to forge an alliance with the comancheros and their Comanche allies. He took her hand gently, and raised it. Then they both sat down.

  “That’s the most they’ll do for a weddin’, the Kiowa,” Cal remarked.

  Fox’s new wife removed her covering.

  I was lucky the singers had picked up again- probably to drown out Fox’s boasting. No one but Cal heard my gasp.

  Sitting on the blanket next to Fox, glowing like an ember, was Mary Harmin.

  I had heard stories of those girls they kidnapped from the borders of the plains. Ugly stories. If these girls were returned to civilization they came back thin, looking ten years older, missing teeth, hair- and even limbs. They could never be accepted into society again.

  Not so for Mary Harmin. In the months her fuzzy hair had grown longer and thicker. She wore it in the Comanche style, braided double and slick with bear grease. Around her neck wept necklaces of shell and bone. Her shirt was beaded finely, as were her moccassins. These were not the clothes of a Comanche slave. They had been loaned to her. Someone had sewn them to fit, over many hours. Someone had beaded those moccassins, braided her hair, and woven the blanket draped across her shoulders.

  But the most striking thing about her was her complexion.

  She must have gained ten pounds. Her plump face shone with happiness. In the red light of the fire, her once-sallow skin took on an attractive flush. Not the restless, nervous girl I had known to fuss over needlework and fret about Indians. She had become a woman.

  Iron Eye caught us staring. He made a dismissive noise through his teeth. “A white-eyes. She has a good story. They picked her out from a group of outlaws months ago.”

  “Really,” said Cal.

  “Pah! The Comanche are too welcoming. But I have never known them to adopt a girl so old.”

  “How?” was all Cal could manage.

  “It is said,” said Iron Eye grumpily, “That that superstitious woman found her first. You know the one.”

  “Tough Ear?” said Cal. “The healer?”

  Iron Eye nodded. “Tough Ear had a dream about a white-eyes girl of that description. The dream told her to go with some braves when they raided a camp of outlaws, down in the Llano. Tough Ear protected the white-eyes from the other braves, and took her in.”

  “Ask him what her name is,” I said hoarsely to Cal.

  “They call her Plum now,” replied Iron Eye. “Because she is so fat.”