“You do not approve, Iron Eye?”

  “No,” said Iron Eye. “No white-eyes is fit enough for an Indian husband. It will bring bad luck to us.”

  Across the fire, Mary’s dancing eyes caught mine. All the breath left my body. How could just a few months feel like a lifetime? I remembered the day we had parted. And now before me a different woman sat, preparing for a life so far gone from everything we had known.

  Mary, I cried in my heart. Do you remember Ada?

  “Iron Eye says,” Cal murmured, “Fox took one look at the girl and decided he wanted her to wife.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said numbly. “She has a family- out West. She hated Indians...”

  Mary pressed her lips together. It would not be proper for her to get up from her new husband’s blanket. I rolled my eyes off to the side.

  Follow me, I tried to tell her. Let’s step away from this all and talk.

  I did not expect her to do it. But sure enough Mary left a word with her new husband, and shuffled off the blanket. She even walked like an Indian woman now- in short, but soft steps. No. This was not the Mary Harmin I knew. What would I say to her now?

  We met near the other tipis. I did not wait- I pulled her into a hug.

  “Mary- oh, Mary! I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “Ada,” she gasped. And then began to cry.

  We had been friends before, but our positions had also been clearly defined. I had been her servant. I had waited on her. I was to accompany her across the wide and lonesome prairie. Now, something in our relationship had shifted. We were equals- but we were not. We were friends- but we were not. We had both become different people outside the confines of the society that had first bound us together. And we did not know what to make of each other.

  “Are you happy?” I blurted.

  “Yes!” she whispered. “Yes, I am happy.”

  “How? Your family is looking for you!”

  “They are?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. But she shook her head, banishing them away. Her voice was firm. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve made my decision.”

  “You’re stayin’ here? Cal and I could take you back. You could come with us to California-”

  “No!” she said, so loud her voice carried. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Took a deep breath. “No, Ada. I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I know what polite society does to girls that have been kidnapped out here.” she said grimly. “I saw it myself. They’re treated lower than dirt. They’d shut me up in a room and I’d die an old maid. At least these people have been good to me.”

  “You’ll never be one of them, Mary. You don’t even know the language!”

  “I’m learning,” she protested. “And it doesn’t matter. As long as I can work, they don’t care. I can work now. Look- I got the scars to prove it.”

  She held out her hands. Scars ridged her knuckles. Callouses decorated her palms and thumbs. I tried to hide my shock.

  “Mary,” I said numbly. “This is crazy.”

  “Is it, Ada? I could ask you the same questions. What happened to you? Who’s that man you’re with?”

  That shut me up for a second. What could I possibly tell Mary about Cal?

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. I took a deep breath and hugged her again. “None of that matters, I suppose.”

  Mary gave me a watery smile. “I guess we won’t be goin’ out to California any time soon.”

  “You could come with me. We can find a way.”

  “No,” she said. “It’s alright.”

  “Well, what do I tell your folks? They’re offerin’ a reward for your return!”

  She pursed her lips, thinking. “I don’t suppose you have a bit of paper for a letter.”

  Paper? No, we didn’t. And surely none of the Indians did, either.

  “Rats,” said Mary. She brushed a bit of the bear grease from her forehead. It made her look like a shiny pink fruit. Like a Plum.

  “Tell them what happened to me,” she said. “Tell them everything.”

  Then we had to return to the fire. I sat next to Cal, feeling desperately sad. He looked at me curiously, but kept talking to Iron Eye.

  The gathering went late into the night. Cal and I were invited to sleep there until morning. I watched Mary- now called Plum- disappear with Brave Bird and Fox. I wondered what she was thinking.

  “She will be treated well,” said Cal. “Some Kiowa ain’t so keen on white women. Or any women. But I know Fox. He’s a jackass, but his heart’s as soft as dog shit.”

  “What a relief,” I hissed.

  Cal took my arm and led me off to our tipi. “I do wonder how these plains is so big, but we manage to run into folks all the time.”

  “I wonder the same.”

  We collapsed on the musty-smelling buffalo robe. Cal could tell I was upset. He folded me into his arms.

  “She can make her own decisions, Ada.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you? You actin’ like she died.”

  “She’s lost her damn mind, for sure.”

  “What about you?” said Cal. “Wearin’ those clothes. Married to me. Goin’ to California with nothin’ but a dream in your pocket.”

  “I still didn’t go and marry a Kiowa Indian.”

  “There’s worse things she coulda done. She could still be with those comancheros. D’you know what they did to her? She was with ‘em two weeks before the Comanche woman found her.”

  I sighed. “I know.”

  A silence stretched between us. I tried to put Mary out of my mind. Cal was right. It was her decision. You couldn’t get mad about what someone else decided to do.

  “About California.” Cal shifted, pressing his lips to my temple. “About that. We might have to wait the winter out.”

  “What?”

  “I won’t have you crossin’ that prairie in your condition.”

  He pressed a hand to my stomach, where the seed of life was growing. I took his hand and moved it lower.

  “So,” I whispered, as he started to stroke me, “I guess that means we’re stayin’ here for a bit?”

  “If you like.”

  “No.” I turned to him. “I could go with you now. I don’t feel all that sick.”

  He looked at me. I knew he would refuse. Cal was stubborn- more stubborn than me. But his green eyes softened.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m tougher than you think.”

  Cal rolled on top of me. His kiss drained any resistance from me. And his hands dipped lower. Lower still.

  “Ah,” I said.

  “Not so tough, Mrs. Sampson.”

  He rolled my skirt up and entered me swiftly. I had no time to breathe. I was tight as any virgin, and he took his time. Each thrust anchored me to the ground.

  “California next year,” he murmured. “Alright?”

  “Yes,” I gasped. “Alright.”

  He ground his hips into me. Then, as if changing his mind, he withdrew. His head dipped to my venus, and he tasted me in a slow, shivering lick that made my eyes fly wide. His mouth engulfed my wet heat, licking every drop of cream from me. His tongue moved through my folds, dipping into the passage inside me that would soon accept the blunt object springing from his trousers.

  I expected him to cover me with his body. But he stopped; his face moved again between my legs. That searching tongue drank my nectar again...again. It writhed against my bud.

  “You ready for it?”

  “Yeah,” I gasped. “Give it to me, Cal.”

  His cock thrust into me. I cried out against his chest. Yes, yes, yes. I was his. I was ready.

  When he pulled away my thighs were sticky with his seed. I felt peaceful and secure. I was Cal’s now. He was mine. I had found peace and happiness in this wide and lonesome land. We would stay with the Kiowa for the season. I would have our child here. And next year we would make the crossing, when the high summer proved more favorable for horse trading.

  But in the meantime, the night went on around us. The Kiowa would stay up to greet the dawn. But me and Cal took shelter in each other’s arms. And there we stayed.

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