Under Cheyenne Skies-Under Cheyenne Skies-
By Renee Waznis
ISBN: 1-928670-60-1
Published by Awe-Struck E-Books
Copyright ©2000
Chapter One
The Colorado Territory
September 1863
"It's time to head out, Melanie." At the sound of Luke's voice, Melanie turned 
to face the wagon master.
"So soon?"
"I'm afraid so. We've still got several more miles to cover today. Can't risk 
fallin' any further behind schedule and gettin' caught by an early snowstorm."
"Snow!" Melanie wiped the perspiration from her forehead and decided Luke must 
be suffering from heatstroke. With the unbearable heat, snow was the farthest 
thing from her mind.
"Yeah, snow," Luke answered. "The weather out here is 'bout as unpredictable as 
any woman I ever met. If we keep up this pace, though, it shouldn't be much 
longer now. I only hope your fiancé is worth all of this," he added before 
striding away to shout orders at the rest of the settlers who made up the small 
wagon train.
Melanie smiled, amused by his criticism of Jim. Throughout this long journey, 
Luke had never made a secret of just what he thought about any man who would 
allow his future bride to travel alone all the way out here on a wagon train 
from Virginia. Well, she didn't care what Luke thought. She and Jim were going 
to have a wonderful life together. She just knew it.
Melanie slowly climbed up onto her wagon, the short rest having done nothing to 
relieve her aching bottom. She re-tied the pale yellow ribbon on her bonnet 
wishing she could leave it off completely. But she knew her light skin would 
never withstand the broiling, afternoon sun.
Carefully she picked up the tough leather reins, wincing when they made contact 
with the painful blisters on her fingers. The rawhide gloves Luke had given her 
at the start of this journey were of little use anymore having worn through in 
several places. As her wagon steadily bumped along following Luke's, she longed 
for the coolness of evening when they could stop and make camp for the night. 
What she really wished was for this seemingly endless journey to be over. 
Although only four months had passed since she'd left Charlottesville, it felt 
more like four years.
"Hold up!" For the second time that day, Melanie's head jerked up at Luke's 
shout. Her gaze followed his and she instantly became still. A lone rider was 
headed directly toward them. As he closed the distance between them, Melanie, 
for the first time in all her nineteen years, got a look at a real live Indian. 
Her heart skipped a beat then accelerated leaving a breathless sensation in her 
chest.
The entire wagon train came to a halt and a strange hush fell over the scene as 
the settlers gaped at this unexpected intruder. Luke swiftly jumped down off his 
wagon and ran to stand directly in front of Melanie with his Remington rifle 
aimed at the approaching rider's chest.
"Halt right there, Injun. Don't come any closer," Luke ordered.
The Indian stopped for a few seconds then slowly dismounted. Despite Luke's 
warning, he approached until he stood just a few feet from him. He towered above 
Luke and Melanie's gaze met his. She could not look away. He was taller than 
Luke was and twice as big, or so it seemed. His skin was a deep copper color, 
his eyes the darkest brown she had ever seen. She sat mesmerized.
When the man turned his attention to Luke, Melanie continued to stare at him, 
inexplicably drawn by something she had never experienced before. No wonder they 
were called savages, she thought; there was a part of him, which seemed more 
animal than human. He reminded her of the picture of a powerful mountain lion 
she'd once seen in a book. In his tight fitting buckskin pants and shirt, he 
appeared barely civilized compared to the well-bred Virginia gentlemen she'd met 
back east.
"You seriously expect me to take this entire wagon train to Fort Benson and wait 
there 'til some Injun scout decides if it's safe for us to travel again? We're 
already behind schedule by more than three weeks." Luke's disdainful voice 
finally penetrated Melanie's senses, and she realized this Indian wanted them to 
go to some fort-but why?
"Dead men will have little use for being on schedule," the Indian's clipped 
words sliced through the still air sending a chill up Melanie's spine despite 
the heat of the afternoon sun.
"Ah, you're just tryin' to scare us, that's all. How do I even know you're from 
Fort Benson? Why, for all I know this could be some Injun trick," Luke 
continued, never lowering his rifle. "You'd best be on yore way, mister, and 
we'll best be gettin' 'bout ours. I'm in charge of these here folks' safety and 
I'll be thankin' ya to mind yore own damn business." The contempt Luke felt for 
the Indian and his unasked for advice was obvious to Melanie when Luke abruptly 
pointed in the direction from which the Indian had arrived and then carefully 
walked backwards toward his own wagon never lowering his rifle.
The dark-skinned giant was left standing in plain view of Melanie's eyes. For a 
few seconds he stared up at her in the wagon and his obsidian eyes locked with 
hers. She froze under his probing gaze, her heart hammering in her chest as she 
fought hard to keep her breathing normal. She must not show fear. She remembered 
hearing how one should never let a savage see your fear.
With that thought uppermost in her mind she squared her shoulders and sat up 
ramrod straight only to watch the subject of her anxiety mount his horse and 
prepare to leave. She was a bit chagrined at having missed the chance to show 
this savage she was not afraid of him.
The man turned toward Luke's wagon. "If you come to your senses, Fort Benson is 
about a day's ride from here in that direction." He pointed, then with one last 
glance at Melanie, he rode away leaving her with an unsettled sensation in the 
pit of her stomach. It took several minutes for her heartbeat to return to 
normal. She sure hoped Luke knew what he was doing.
Pity for these poor travelers billowed in Chato's heart as he heeled his horse 
into a fast trot. They would never make it safely across. For the past two moons 
the Utes had actively killed allWasichus who tried to pass through their lands. 
Frustration filled his being over the senseless lives that would most likely be 
lost because the stubborn white man refused to listen to reason. If only he had 
not been out scouting alone today. He knew the bluecoats could have persuaded 
the man to bring his people to the safety of the fort. Well, he had tried, 
hadn't he? There was nothing more he could do.
On the long ride back to Fort Benson, Chato found himself plagued by a pair of 
eyes the color of spring prairie grass. So young-she was so young to die. For 
the first time in a long while he had to keep reminding himself to think only of 
himself. He'd done just fine these past two years by simply keeping to himself. 
He needed no one and that's the way he liked it.
He'd made the mistake of helping a wounded white trapper and had paid a high 
price for it. He had vowed never again to trust aWashichu . Yet, with each mile 
that went by, the white girl's face kept flashing in front of his eyes.
"Damn!" Why should I care? He grew angrier with himself with each passing hour. 
Despite all of his efforts to the contrary, he was unable to shake her image 
from his mind. He sighed, disgusted with himself, then made a decision. As soon 
as he reached the fort, he'd convince Captain Simms to send some bluecoats out 
after the wagon train. For reasons Chato did not care to examine too closely, 
the thought of that beautiful young girl dying out there on the plains brought 
unexpected pain.
"Duck down, girl! Are ya trying to get yourself killed?"
Melanie spun around and confronted the stark white face of Mr. Johnson, knowing 
full well that the terror in his expression mirrored her own. But terror or no 
terror, she refused to hide like a sniveling peahen while her people were being 
brutally attacked.
"I said, get down, girl. NOW!"
Instead of complying, Melanie grabbed a handful of ammunition and the extra 
Remington rifle, praying to heaven above she could remember what her father had 
taught her about loading a gun.
"Don't worry about me, Mr. Johnson, just keep firing!" she cried out above the 
roar of thundering hoofs.
Mr. Johnson didn't have time to respond. A painted face with coal black eyes 
stared menacingly at them from in between the spokes of the wagon that had 
become their barricade. A scream lodged in Melanie's throat as she spotted the 
glint of a large, razor sharp knife-ready to strike.
A small explosion sounded and the Indian slumped to the ground, a stream of 
blood oozing from his gaping mouth onto the sun-baked, Colorado prairie dirt. 
Oh, my God, he's dead.
Melanie's earlier bravado slipped away as the true impact of the situation hit 
home. The anguished screams of the women and children; the sound of metal 
clashing against metal; the high pitched battle cries-all blended together into 
a massive, macabre roar. They were twenty-five travelers against a hundred 
Indians. It was a massacre. That Indian scout had been right!
She looked into the unseeing eyes of her would be attacker and fought back a 
wave of nausea. Melanie had never seen a man killed before. Nothing in her 
genteel rearing had prepared her for the sight or stench of death. That could 
have been me lying there, she realized. If Luke wasn't such an expert shot, that 
would be me. Or kind Mr. Johnson.
"It's horrible, just horrible."
"It's gonna get worse if you don't stop gaping and get back to work," Mr. 
Johnson said.
Melanie realized she had spoken out loud.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she fought the violent trembling of her body and 
set about loading and reloading the rifle for Mr. Johnson. For now, most of the 
Indians were attacking the far side of the camp, but that wouldn't last long. 
Someone had said Utes never left survivors behind. The men had talked around the 
fire last night…about the Utes' fierce warring ways and white hatred. Now, they 
were running in all directions, some battling, some foraging, others setting 
fire to the wagons. Their long black hair contrasted with splashes of brightly 
colored face paint. Dressed only in breechcloths, their copper chests gleamed in 
the morning sunlight, enhancing their savage appearance.
Almost all her own people were already gone. Death was everywhere.
She felt sick, numb, and helpless. Mr. Johnson and Luke were holding their own 
as best they could, but Melanie was suddenly overcome with self-anger. If she 
had spent more time learning to shoot as her father had wanted and less time 
learning to dance the Virginia reel, she might have been able to save someone. 
Might have-
"Good Lord!"
A movement to her right caught her attention. She could scarcely believe what 
her eyes were telling her. Running in and out amongst the horses was an Indian 
boy, no more than five or six judging from his tiny stature. What was he doing 
here? What kinds of savages send an innocent child to fight in a bloody battle 
like this? The boy seemed confused as he darted one way, then another, with no 
apparent destination.
Bullets pierced the ground dangerously close to Melanie's hiding spot, sending 
her flying face down in the dirt. When she finally looked up, the boy was gone. 
She scanned the area within the circled wagons, trying to locate him. All she 
saw were bodies strewn everywhere, with a few frantic-faced women attempting to 
nurse the wounded.
After a few minutes, the boy reappeared, this time much closer to her wagon. She 
quickly dropped the rifle she had just filled with ammunition, all thoughts of 
her own safety forgotten. If the bullets didn't kill that child he'd surely be 
trampled to death by galloping horses. I've got to help him.
Melanie scrambled out from under the dusty wagon the very moment Luke spun 
around and aimed his gun at the tiny figure.
"Noooo!"
Her scream echoed through the camp as she instinctively pushed the boy behind 
her. "No, Luke, he's only a child!"
"An Injun's an Injun, Melanie. Get back under that wagon before you get yore 
darn fool head shot off," Luke ordered.
In a flash, he pushed her out of the way and brought the butt of his rifle down 
hard on the child's head. The boy crumpled to the ground.
"You beast!"
Melanie had never felt such rage. She rushed forward punching and scratching at 
Luke with the power of a woman two times her size. As Luke tried to defend 
himself against her unexpected onslaught, a brawny Indian wielding a large 
hatchet-running straight toward them-seized his attention.
Luke pushed Melanie away and instantly flung himself at the attacker. Melanie 
bent down and scooped up the unconscious boy, hesitating for a split second 
while she decided what to do next. Her wild, searching gaze came to rest on a 
large outcropping of rocks behind the campsite. Frantically, she ran, her limp 
burden tucked tightly in her arms. She breathed a weary sigh of relief as she 
safely slipped behind the rocks.
Her breaths came in great gulps, and her heart thundered in her ears as she 
gently lay the child on the ground. She looked at him then, noting his round 
face and coal-black straight hair. Such angelic innocence possessed his features 
that Melanie wondered again how Luke could have ever considered cold-bloodedly 
killing him. But then, there was so much she didn't understand...So much she had 
been forced to confront since she'd left her farm four months ago. She sighed, 
turning the boy's head slightly to inspect his wound. Sticky blood covered her 
fingers as she gently probed his forehead, trying to determine how seriously he 
was hurt.
Ripping off a small piece of her petticoat, she pressed it firmly against the 
wound. She stanched the flow of blood, deciding that was the best she could do 
for the moment. Hopefully when the Indians took him back to their village, they 
would tend to his injury properly and he would be all right.
A savage war cry rent the air snapping her attention back to the desperate life 
and death struggle of her companions. Indecision besieged her. Should she return 
and try to help them? Would it do any good? Deep down inside she knew the 
answer. There was nothing she could do. Nothing but try to keep the boy and 
herself out of the line of fire.
Melanie settled herself against the rocks, cradling the child's head on her lap. 
She warily watched as the battle raged on. Tears slid down her cheeks over the 
helplessness of the situation. If only Luke had paid heed to the savage-if only 
they had gone to that fort-but now it was too late. There was nothing she could 
do...nothing but watch her traveling companions fight a losing battle for their 
lives.
Chapter Two
Three days later Melanie awakened with pangs of hunger so intense it felt as 
though her stomach was twisted into one tight knot. She rose slowly, her body 
stiff and sore from lying on the hard ground...certain she had never been this 
dirty before.
In the past she had taken the pleasures of lavender-scented baths and clean, 
freshly-pressed clothes for granted. Now, her pale yellow dress with its dainty 
green flowers was badly torn and so encrusted with mud it appeared light brown 
in color, and her long, usually meticulously braided hair hung in limp, knotted 
disarray.
Melanie put her hand on her forehead in a futile effort to block out the morning 
sun. What she wouldn't give right now for one of her lace parasols. Being fully 
awake brought with it the inevitable jolt of realism concerning her present 
situation just as it had each day since the massacre occurred. Yet she still 
could scarcely comprehend what had happened. One minute she'd been happily on 
her way from Virginia to Denver to marry Jim and the next here she was all alone 
out in the middle of nowhere with an Indian child who didn't even speak English! 
What had she been thinking of when she'd brought this child with her behind the 
rocks? That was the problem-as her ma had told her more times than she cared to 
remember-she hadn't thought at all. She had simply reacted. Now what was she 
supposed to do with him?
It had all happened so fast and still amazed her that the savages had ridden 
away so quickly they'd forgotten all about the little boy they were leaving 
behind. That remembrance drifted naturally into thoughts of the people who'd 
accompanied her on this long, arduous journey west.
"Stop it, Melanie," she told herself. She could not allow her mind to dwell on 
their sad fates-the pain was too fresh to bear. Instead she glanced over to her 
young charge, finding him still fast asleep.
Moving to where he lay curled on his side, she sat down beside him and studied 
his tiny features. She knew he still did not trust her, but thankfully he wasn't 
quite as openly hostile as he had been those first two days. They had made minor 
headway in communicating with each other and after much confusion and an equal 
amount of persuasion, he had begrudgingly told her in awkward sign language that 
his name was "Little Arrow."
He was such a proud boy, so resistant to accept help from her-the white 
woman-his enemy. Just yesterday he had refused to share the last bit of beef 
jerky she had salvaged from the ruins of the wagon train. Fortunately, his 
hunger had won out over his stubbornness in the end. Melanie was relieved not 
only because he needed to eat to survive but also to gain strength after 
suffering that awful blow to his head. Miraculously, Little Arrow had recovered 
quickly save a minor bump and scar on his forehead.
Little Arrow's eyes fluttered open then and she smiled down at him still trying 
to somehow break down that barrier of mistrust. She was growing mighty weary of 
his hostile attitude toward her. Brushing off as much dust as possible from her 
hair and clothes, she stood up and then motioned for him to join her in a search 
for food. All their food supplies were gone and she knew today would be a true 
test of survival.
For a solid hour they roamed the clearing within a mile of their makeshift camp 
but found only sagebrush. Just about to give up hope, she suddenly spotted a 
small bush of blueberries.
"Little Arrow! Come here, quick!"
While he stood before her she took his hand and dropped a few of the wild 
berries into it, pleased as a peacock a-struttin' it's feathers, at her 
treasure.
To her shock, he hurled the berries to the ground and stomped on them!
"I declare, that's the last straw, Little Arrow. I've tried to be kind to you 
and this is the thanks I get?" She pointed to the stain of blue mush that used 
to be food. Little Arrow simply returned her stare, his three and a half-foot 
frame rigid with defiance.
Instantly regretting her mean words, even though he didn't understand them, 
Melanie reminded herself she must be patient. After all, what could she expect 
from the child of a heathen savage? He couldn't have been more than five years 
old...and scared, too, even if he didn't show it. Forcing herself to smile, she 
reached over and picked another cache of berries and placed them into his hands. 
"Now, eat that, you hear? You need your strength."
Again, he tossed them to the ground and stomped on them even more vehemently 
than before. After that, Melanie did something she hadn't done since she was 
twelve-she stuck her tongue out at the ungrateful boy.
Then she collapsed to the ground and let the built up tears of frustration and 
grief flow freely.
Melanie felt a tug on her sleeve and she peered up at Little Arrow completely 
taken aback by the expression on his face. Was that actually compassion in his 
eyes, or was she imagining it? When he tugged again she realized he wanted her 
to stand up. He surprised her then by taking her hand and leading her to a spot 
a short distance away. Totally confused, she watched him pick wild berries that 
looked similar in color but were a slightly different shape than the ones she 
had discovered. After uttering a few words in his guttural language he handed 
her what appeared to be wild blueberries.
She resisted the urge to throw them down and hurt him the way he had hurt her 
but instead followed his lead and gobbled them down.
"I don't understand you. Why wouldn't you eat the ones I found?-Oh, I wish you 
spoke English," she complained.
He started using elaborate sign language and babbling in his strange Indian 
dialect.
"I don't understand, what're you saying?"
She watched, perplexed, as he returned to the site of the berries she had found, 
picked one up and pretended to eat it. Then he fell over and lay still on the 
ground feigning death. All at once the truth hit her. There was something wrong 
with the berries she had found. They were poisonous. My God. I would have eaten 
them and died! He had actually saved her life. Tears gathered in the corners of 
her eyes even as she smiled.
"Little Arrow, you don't hate me after all," she cried.
She walked to his side, knelt, and embraced him half expecting to be pushed 
away, but to her complete surprise he hesitantly returned her hug.
After a few moments, she stood up reluctant to end this moment of closeness.
"Look at you, you're beaming. Pretty proud of yourself, huh? Well, for your 
information, I never had to find my own food before."
She sighed. Why was she making excuses to him? He couldn't understand a word she 
said. Still it felt good to talk, so she continued.
"I know you're trying hard not to like me but we need each other. It's just you 
and me out here all alone. We might as well..."
Suddenly Little Arrow scampered away and Melanie watched as he enthusiastically 
picked wild berries devouring handfuls in the process. Tomorrow after a good 
night's rest, she decided, they would set out to find help. She couldn't just 
sit here and wait to die. She intended to live through this and find Jim. These 
positive thoughts propelled her forward and she joined Little Arrow in picking 
and eating the wild blueberries. For right now at least, she resolved to 
completely forget their dire situation.
There were no survivors. Chato steeled himself against the tragic tableau that 
presented itself in the glaring afternoon sun. Destruction such as this was 
becoming more commonplace with each passing day, but this time it could have 
been avoided-he'd warned them. Why hadn't they listened to him? How many more 
lives had to be lost on both sides? he wondered. Would nothing-no amount of 
bloodshed stop the wave of whites which grew larger with each passing moon?
He moved among the debris both human and not, shaking his head when he located 
the body of the wagon master. Here was the Washichu who had claimed he could 
protect his people. "Damn fool," Chato spat out as he stepped over the fallen 
leader to continue his search.
Finally, not finding what he sought he mounted his brown cavalry horse and 
trotted away studying the ground as he went. The girl's body had not been among 
the dead. Most likely she'd been carried off by the Utes to be used for their 
own pleasure or traded to another tribe. These conjectures caused a tight band 
to constrict his chest and he cursed himself yet again. Caring about a Washichu 
had brought him nothing but trouble before, and he knew this time would be no 
different. Yet despite all his efforts against it, a pair of green eyes floated 
in and out of his thoughts over the past several days and even haunted his 
dreams at night. No help had come from Captain Simms as he had his hands full 
protecting the settlers who already resided on small ranches scattered about the 
region. There were simply too many Indians and not enough soldiers to put down 
the recent rash of Ute uprisings. Captain Benson had left it to Chato to ride 
out and learn the fate of the small wagon train and report back to him. But 
something-something he cared not put a name to, drove Chato on searching for 
clues. He knew he'd not rest until he discovered for sure the fate of the tiny 
white girl who had disturbed him so much.
Chato halted abruptly, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing. The 
beautiful, young girl from the wagon train was laughing and running after an 
Indian child. Relief coursed through him that she had somehow escaped the fate 
of the rest of the settlers. The suffocating band that squeezed his heart 
instantly lifted. She was truly stunning, her long, flowing golden hair bounced 
against her neck and shoulders as she dashed about, the sun reflecting the 
reddish highlights and her eyes sparkled with mischief. Distance prevented him 
from seeing the color, but he vividly remembered their intense shade of green 
from the other day. Her delightful squeals of laughter sounded in the still air 
like music to his ears and he remained captivated by the charming scene.
As he continued to watch, he could not help but notice the way her full breasts 
bounced provocatively against the thin material of her dress as she chased after 
the boy. He experienced a tightening in his groin, which both annoyed and 
surprised him, and he decided he had been too long without female companionship. 
Finally tiring, the girl sat down to catch her breath and smiled up at the 
child.
An instant later her dazzling smile appeared directed at him, then froze on her 
face turning to shock as she apparently spotted him for the first time.
He watched as she jumped up, reached out and grabbed the child, pulling him 
behind her in a protective stance.
Her heart hammering in her chest, Melanie's first thought was that Little 
Arrow's people had finally missed him and had returned for him. She warily 
watched the man walk his horse slowly toward them, her eyes widening when she 
recognized him as the same savage who had spoken to Luke only a few days ago. 
The second he stopped in front of her she looked up at him and her eyes met his. 
His bold stare robbed her of breath and for a few seconds she stood rooted to 
the spot. Finally, she swallowed the lump in her throat, drew herself up to her 
fullest height, and asked, "You know what happened to the wagon train?"
"Yes. I have seen what the white men's stupidity has brought."
Melanie bristled at his harsh criticism of her people, but she wisely held her 
tongue. She was in no position to be arguing with this arrogant savage. For now 
she'd bite back the barrage of retorts she longed to fling at him concerning his 
people. She needed him at the moment to help get Little Arrow safely back to his 
people and help her find Jim's Uncle's ranch. Like it or not she'd have to be 
nice to him.
"Why are you with him?" Chato's question sliced through her thoughts.
"He was with the Indians, he would've been killed. I..."
"I do not understand."
Melanie took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and started again. "He was 
hurt so I carried him behind some rocks."
"You hid him?" His shocked expression now turned to one of astonishment at her 
words. Could this be true?
"Yes, We both hid behind some rocks. I couldn't bear for him to be killed. He's 
so little."
Chato studied the flustered girl trying to understand her motives. Had this 
small white girl actually risked her own life to save this child? If she spoke 
the truth, he admired her brave actions.
Turning to the boy for the first time, Chato spoke quickly in his Indian tongue, 
and Little Arrow answered him. Melanie had no idea what they were talking about, 
but she took this opportunity to examine the Indian scout.
Her original impression of him was confirmed. He was quite tall. A powerful 
chest strained against the thin buckskin shirt that he wore accentuating the 
excellent condition of his body. Melanie found his face, though not exactly 
handsome in the usual sense, to be a study in masculinity with dark, black hair 
matching the deep brown of his eyes. Something about this man disturbed her and 
she found it continually hard to breathe naturally in his presence. When he 
directed his attention once again to her, she felt a flush spread over her face 
and neck. She had been caught staring at him.
What's wrong with me? She never recalled having this reaction to any man before. 
Perhaps it was because of the bold look he directed at a spot just below her 
neck. She glanced down to find a long jagged tear, which slightly exposed the 
swell of her left breast. Instinctively she clutched the material together 
feeling a surging heat redden her cheeks even more. The impudent savage! How 
dare he look at her like that. Why no gentleman would ever take such liberties.
Becoming more uncomfortable by the minute, she was greatly relieved when he 
broke the strained silence.
"Little Arrow and I will go hunt for something to eat. Do you know how to start 
a fire?"
"Of course I can make a fire," she shot back. His condescending tone of voice 
and knowing look sparked her temper effectively cutting off her earlier 
embarrassment. Did he think she was some helpless little girl who couldn't take 
care of herself? She and Little Arrow had been doing just fine before he'd shown 
up. No one had asked him to come rescue them. Who did he think he was, anyway? 
The hint of a smile on the scout's lips as he turned away only fueled her anger. 
Though not at all sure she could make a fire, never actually having started one 
alone before, she was determined one way or another to have one blazing by the 
time Mr. Highbrow returned. She'd not give him any reason to think of her as an 
incompetent female in need of his help if it was the last thing she did. 
Ignoring the small inner voice that mocked her bravado and whispered she was 
lucky he had found them, she set about retrieving the things she'd need to make 
her first fire as the two Indians-one small-one big, looking as if they could be 
father and son, rode out of sight.
By the time Chato and Little Arrow arrived back, Melanie had managed to get a 
fire started. She was surprised to see Little Arrow riding on a horse obviously 
belonging to the ill-fated wagon train.
That night, the air filled with the pungent scent of roasted rabbit. After the 
meager diet that she and Little Arrow had existed on for the past three days, 
Melanie savored every bite. Begrudgingly, she admitted to herself that Chato was 
an excellent hunter, as she estimated it had taken him less than thirty minutes 
to secure the plump rabbit for their supper and the horse for Little Arrow.
Lulled by the crackle of the campfire and its fiery warmth, she rested her head 
on her elbow and silently watched Little Arrow and Chato who were engaged in 
deep conversation. She wished she could understand the words but found it 
entertaining to watch the expressions play across the scout's face as he 
listened intently to whatever Little Arrow said. The fire illuminated his face 
accenting the harsh planes and angles presenting a strong profile with a touch 
of arrogance.
Unexpectedly he turned toward her and she felt her face flush, as once again 
she'd been caught staring at him. She would have to stop doing that because he 
already made her uncomfortable enough with his open stares. She must be careful 
not to give this savage the wrong idea about her.
With that knowing half grin of his that seemed to mock her he said, "I go to 
check on the horses, Melanie. I think Little Arrow needs sleep."
Glad to be away from his disconcerting presence for a few moments, she glanced 
over at Little Arrow and noticed for the first time just how droopy his eyes did 
look. She smiled at the child whom she had amazingly begun to care for.
"Little Arrow, come and lay down by me," she requested patting the bedroll next 
to her.
He seemed to understand and immediately settled himself comfortably beside her. 
Her hand closed over his smaller one and she began to sing the Irish lullaby her 
own mother had sung to her when she had been a young child. This maternal side 
surprised her, but she found she truly enjoyed her relationship with this boy 
very much. She felt sorry for him being separated from his family and all. He 
was too young to be blamed for the savage acts of his people. As she sang the 
song, she watched Little Arrow's eyes flick open and shut several times until 
finally they closed and remained that way.
Chato returned from checking the horses stopping short as his ears picked up the 
sound of her singing. He gazed at the touching scene in front of him. Helpless 
to stop it, his eyes strayed to her bare feet and shapely ankles, and again he 
felt a stirring in his loins that angered him. He must control these reactions 
to her. She was Washichu. Her kind meant nothing but trouble for him. These past 
two years he'd done just fine by himself and that's the way he intended for it 
to stay. Forcing his gaze higher, he sucked in his breath at the tantalizing bit 
of flesh bared by the rip in her tattered dress. The ache in his loins increased 
along with his anger. Closing the distance between them, he concentrated on her 
face.
"Do not stop," he said, sitting down on the other side of Little Arrow. She 
appeared embarrassed at having been caught singing the lullaby.
"He's asleep."
"Yes, I see that. He is a strong, brave child. One day he will make a good 
warrior for his people."
"Why haven't they come back for him? Don't they care about him?"
"Little Arrow does not belong to the tribe that attacked your wagons, Melanie."
"He doesn't? I don't understand. Then why was he with them?"
"He told me he was taken by the enemies of his people. Little Arrow is Cheyenne. 
The Indians who destroyed the wagon train are Utes. The Cheyenne and Utes have 
been fierce rivals for many winters. They steal children for slaves."
"That's horrible. Poor Little Arrow. He could've been killed in that battle."
"The Great Spirit was with him that day. He owes you his life."
"I also owe mine to him."
"I do not understand."
"Before you found us I almost ate poisonous berries. Little Arrow knew they 
weren't good. I thought he hated me but he actually saved my life. I guess we're 
even now," she smiled down at the sleeping boy.
"We have a long day of travel ahead. Get some rest."
She looked up surprised by the sudden sharpness in his voice and the way he 
abruptly turned his back on her and stretched out beside Little Arrow. What was 
wrong with him? Chato stared at the ground trying hard to erase the image of her 
full lips and straight white teeth revealed by her sudden smile.
Chapter Three
With Fort Benson almost in sight, an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of 
Chato's stomach as doubts about the wisdom of bringing Little Arrow to the fort 
of the bluecoats assailed him. He knew only too well that the opinion held by 
these soldiers toward his kind. It was no secret they merely tolerated him for 
his tracking abilities and knowledge of several Indian dialects. Around the fort 
he kept mostly to himself, preferring it that way. He assumed since the girl was 
white, she would be treated well, but Little Arrow-he was not so sure.
He shifted his weight and positioned Melanie more comfortably against his right 
shoulder noting she dozed despite the gentle gallop of his horse. Her body felt 
warm and soft pressed against him. He studied her sleep-softened face, intrigued 
by the long golden lashes that almost touched her pale, smooth cheeks. Although 
white, she was absolutely beautiful and a strong desire to touch her flawless 
skin seized him. This unexpected reaction irritated him and he forcibly switched 
his attention to Little Arrow who diligently followed along on the other horse. 
Would the bluecoats mistreat him because he was an Indian despite his young age? 
Used to having to worry solely about himself for so long, these new 
responsibilities, weighed heavily on his mind as the fort came into view.
Melanie's eyes flicked open then ending his speculation. Their dazzling green 
color startled him and his lips tightened in disgust. He was reminded of the 
past several days spent together on the trail, and how he had found himself 
smiling and even laughing at times at things this girl had done or said. Smiles 
and laughter had been missing from his life for a very long time. Equally 
amazing to him was the real warmth and care she'd given to Little Arrow. Her 
presence disturbed him and reminded him of things best forgotten. He battled 
against these unwanted emotions.
Melanie had no idea she was the subject of Chato's thoughts. Disoriented from 
her nap she was surprised to feel her cheek pressed against a warm firm 
shoulder. Tempted by the fresh smell of buckskin combined with his own masculine 
scent, she lingered there a moment enjoying the sensation.
When his warm breath grazed her ear lobe it sent a tingle through her body and 
like a bolt of lightening her intimate position with the scout penetrated her 
senses, instantly throwing off the last remnants of grogginess. She experienced 
the breathy condition his presence always brought. She still didn't understand 
why he'd insisted she share his horse instead of Little Arrow's. For the first 
time, she wished she had learned to correctly ride and handle a horse. It wasn't 
proper for her to be this close to a man-a savage no less. If her mother could 
see her only daughter now she'd surely have a fit of the vapors. Thoughts of her 
mother caused her to sit up straighter and hold her torn bodice together 
breaking all bodily contact with him.
To cover her embarrassment she asked a question. "Are we almost there?"
"Fort Benson is just ahead," he flatly stated pointing out the location. He 
smiled inwardly at her puny attempt at modesty. If he had a mind to, her slim 
hands would not keep him from taking what he wanted.
Melanie's eyes followed the direction of his finger and she experienced a great 
sense of relief. This nightmare was finally coming to an end. Soon she'd be away 
from this savage with the bold, ungentlemanly eyes that unnerved her so much and 
be with Jim where she belonged. Looking up at Chato's face she wondered at his 
sour expression. In contrast to her happy outlook, he looked like someone about 
to face a very unpleasant ordeal.
It was a mystery to her what was wrong with this man so she turned away and 
watched instead Little Arrow who now rode alongside them. A pang of sadness hit 
her at the thought of never seeing him again. She had actually grown to love 
him. Even though she knew he would be much happier returned to his own people, a 
part of her selfishly wished she could somehow keep him with her. But she knew 
that was silly. By the expression on Little Arrow's face, it appeared he and the 
scout shared a similar state of mind. She imagined that Little Arrow might be 
upset at the prospect of having to stay at the fort. She hoped, for his sake, it 
would not be very long before he would be returned to his family. Again she 
looked up at Chato, still puzzled by his gloomy expression.
Chato's mood indeed became gloomier with each plodding step of his horse. 
Without warning came a sudden wild urge to turn in the opposite direction and 
take both Melanie and Little Arrow with him. As fast as that thought entered his 
mind, he brushed it away. He was doing the only thing he could do-the sooner he 
was rid of this girl, the better he would like it. He needed no complications in 
his well-ordered life.
"Chato, Little Arrow's mama and papa will be as happy as a dog with two tails to 
have him home again, won't they? I declare, they must be so worried about him."
Her voice broke into his musings.
"He has no mother. Little Arrow told me she died when he was still a babe."
"Oh, the poor little thing, I-"
"Do not feel sorry for him. His people care for their young. Little Arrow has 
many mothers. All the women of his tribe care for him. That is the Cheyenne 
way."
"Oh, but still, it can't exactly be the same as having his very own mama. He's 
such a sweet child. Is his village far from here?"
"About ten days of hard riding."
He hesitated then. After a long pause he said, "I thank you for saving Little 
Arrow, Melanie."
"I couldn't just stand by and let him be killed, could I?"
"Many would have."
"Chato, I don't understand. Why do you work-"
"Fort Benson-straight ahead."
Anticipating her question, Chato had no intention of defending his actions to 
her.
Melanie strained to see the fort, her unanswered question forgotten. She 
anxiously watched the high wall that surrounded it grow bigger with each step. 
She hoped Jim would come for her quickly because their new life together could 
not start soon enough to suit her. She was ready for parties and balls and fun 
again just like it used to be back in Charlottesville before the Yankees had 
come and ruined it all. Her grand adventure of coming out west had turned into 
disaster, and once and for all she needed to put this tragedy behind her.
Melanie stared dumbfounded at Captain Simms.
"Are you telling me there's no way to get word to Jim until the spring?"
"If even then, Miss Blake. I understand how you must feel, really I do, but you 
have no idea the havoc these savages are causing right now. With most of the men 
fighting the war back east, we're short on re-enforcements, guns and ammunition. 
Why, we can barely get the supplies in we need just to survive. On top of that, 
the snows are coming and then it will be just plumb impossible to get a 
messenger through to your fiancé's ranch. I'm really sorry," he concluded.
"What shall I do?" Melanie murmured so softly that he had to lean forward to 
hear her.
"It's not going to be easy for you being the only woman in the fort. I must warn 
you also that some of my men didn't take too kindly to your saving that Injun 
kid. I think you'd best keep to your room as much as possible."
"Little Arrow needed help!" she protested unable to believe what she was 
hearing. "I was raised to be respectful to elders and kind to children. What was 
I supposed to do?"
"Child or not, he's a redskin. These men have left their families for months and 
in some cases years to fight against these savages. Their hatred runs strong and 
deep and child or no, he's got red skin!"
"When it comes to a matter of life and death, I don't understand what difference 
the color of a child's skin makes. He's still just a little boy."
Joe Simms shook his head sadly. "How old are you, Miss Blake?"
"Nineteen," she answered wondering why he asked.
"I'm afraid you have a lot to learn if you intend to stay and live out here. 
You're very young. Most likely you think everything's black or white-good or 
bad-no in between. Let me tell you something, young lady. If there's one thing 
I've learned from living as long as I have, its that most of the time there's 
just no clear right or wrong. The hostilities between us and these Injuns have 
been going on for a very long time and there's no end in sight yet. These damn 
fool settlers keep coming from back east, and I'm supposed to protect them. Do 
you think that's easy? These Injuns feel threatened. They don't intend to give 
up their land without a fight." He raked a hand through his silver hair.
He was so agitated he missed her response. "I'm sorry, Miss Blake, did you say 
something?"
"I asked you where Little Arrow is and if I may please see him," she repeated 
ignoring his lecture on her lack of experience. Men. They always thought they 
knew everything.
An uncomfortable silence followed her request settling over the room like a 
heavy blanket.
"I'm afraid that's not possible," he stated, avoiding her gaze.
She sensed something was not right. "What do you mean I can't see him? I demand 
to see him immediately!" She stamped her foot emphasizing her demand.
A chilling fear suddenly clutched her making her grab hold of the captain's arm. 
"What've you done with Little Arrow? Where is he?"
"For the time being he's in the stockade under guard," he answered, turning 
slightly away from her. Melanie grasped his arm tighter, disbelief written all 
over her face.
Captain Simms jerked his arm free and quickly crossed the small room in two long 
strides yanking open his office door to call to the soldier posted there. "Take 
Miss Blake to her room and see that she stays there until she calms down," he 
ordered.
"No! You can't treat me like a prisoner. I want to see Little Arrow!" she 
yelled, as the clearly bewildered soldier briskly escorted her from Captain 
Simms' office.
Joe Simms closed the door trying to shut out the terrible sounds of the 
struggling girl.
Almost immediately, he opened his office door once again. "Sergeant McClosky, 
get Chato in here right away."
"Yes, Sir," replied the young soldier instantly sprinting off to obey the 
command.
Melanie could not remain still. She paced the rectangular area of her quarters. 
She now knew how a caged animal felt. On impulse she picked up an empty tin cup 
and flung it against the door. Just a few hours before, she'd so eagerly looked 
forward to her future. She had envisioned what it would be like here, but never 
could she have been more wrong. She'd left Virginia dreaming of adventure and 
excitement-of the anticipation of her coming marriage to Jim.
Now, all her thoughts were tormented by visions of her new little friend locked 
up all alone in a prison-a prison! He was only five years old. How could they do 
that to him? How frightened he must be.
Drained and exhausted, she finally sank down on the narrow bed, her eyes drawn 
to the small window where the last rays of sun streaked the sky turning day into 
dusk. The pink and gray stripes only added to her melancholy and agitation as 
images of Little Arrow all alone in a dark stockade bombarded her mind.
Helpless frustration seared Melanie's soul as she jumped off the bed, ran to the 
door and swung it open. Where did she think she was going to go? Captain Simms 
wouldn't help her. He'd made that all too clear. Besides, she had no idea where 
Little Arrow even was. What was the use? She might as well stay put.
She slammed the door shut and crossed the cramped room in three long strides 
flinging herself flat down on the narrow bed, oblivious to the scratchy blanket 
which scraped her tender cheeks. Tears flooded her eyes spilling over onto her 
hands and arms but she cared not. It felt as though her strength of the last 
several days had crumbled all at once.
How much more could she take? Her whole world had been turned upside down. She 
made no attempt to stem the tears but rather allowed them to stream down her 
face. For right now it was the only comfort available to her.
Chato hesitated before knocking on Melanie's door. How was he ever going to make 
her understand why a five year old child was being held in a stockade when even 
he could not understand? He cursed himself for the hundredth time for ever 
having brought the boy here in the first place. He should have known 
better.Wasichus could never be trusted!
He recalled his half-hour of arguing with Captain Simms that had produced 
nothing. His request to return the child to the Cheyenne people had been flatly 
denied by the commanding officer.
Although most of the time he could bear working here at the fort, at times like 
this, he wondered how he was ever going to continue.
Not able to put off the inevitable a moment longer, he stepped up to her door 
and knocked.
His knock was answered almost immediately by Melanie, traces of dried tears 
still clinging to her cheeks. Despite her distraught state, he was struck again 
by her rare beauty and fought hard against his purely male reaction to it.
"Oh, it's you." Her obvious disappointment at seeing him stung and a tiny inner 
voice mocked him. What else did you expect from her?
"Who were you expecting?" he quipped.
"I hoped it might be Captain Simms saying he'd changed his mind about allowing 
me to see Little Arrow."
Chato softened a little at her words. Her concern and distress over the little 
boy were evident and the genuine depth of her feelings for the child intrigued 
him. He experienced yet another unwanted pang of guilt for bringing Little Arrow 
here.
"Chato, you've got to do something. You've got to get him out of that prison."
"There is nothing I can do, Melanie. I tried but Captain Simms would not change 
his mind. Little Arrow will be all right. He-"
"I can't believe you. How can you even say that? He's only a child."
With eyes flashing she blurted out, "How could you let them do this to a little 
boy? I don't even understand what you're doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be out 
there attacking wagon trains like the rest of the savages?"
Her eyes widened the second the words were out of her mouth as too late she 
realized what she'd said. Holy St. Patrick, what've I done? Watching his face 
darken like the gathering thunderclouds before a summer storm, she knew her 
Irish temper had gotten the best of her once again. She instinctively stepped 
back fearing, as her mother had often predicted, she'd truly gone too far this 
time.
An instant rage flared in Chato at her unreasonable words. A muscle worked in 
his jaw as he struggled to bring that rage under control.
"You know nothing about me. And if you will recall I was the one who tried to 
warn your wagon master that it was not safe to travel at this time." His voice 
was chillingly devoid of emotion.
"You're right," she admitted. "I'm-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's 
just that I'm so worried about poor Little Arrow."
Tears welled up in her eyes and she furiously blinked them away but one lone 
drop escaped slowly trailing down her pale cheek. His anger forgotten, Chato 
reached up with both hands to cup her chin, his right thumb gently wiping the 
teardrop away as an irresistible urge to comfort this tiny girl swept over him.
"Do not cry,cinstinna ."
She looked up at him totally taken aback by his sudden, unexpected, tender 
gesture toward her, shocked even more to find his lips slowly inching toward 
hers. Her eyes closed of their own accord awaiting his kiss that never came. 
Instead she found herself abruptly released. A feeling of shame instantly washed 
over her at the jolt of disappointment that shot through her. What was wrong 
with her? For a second she'd actually stood there waiting for a kiss from a 
heathen savage. Worse-when it hadn't happened, she'd actually experienced 
disappointment! She hated the strange effect this man had on her.
She was not the only one upset. Chato turned his back to her struggling with the 
streak of desire surging through his loins. One minute he'd sought only to 
comfort her and the next his traitorous body and her full lips and soft skin had 
almost been his undoing. What was he thinking? Control had always been his 
strength and a point of pride with him, but since first seeing this girl sitting 
atop her wagon, his self-control continually appeared in jeopardy. He vowed to 
be rid of her as soon as possible.
Turning back to face Melanie, Chato repeated, "Little Arrow will be all right. 
He is safer there than anywhere else. These bluecoats do not see a child-only an 
Indian."
"Are you saying they might truly hurt him? I can't believe that."
"You have much to learn, Melanie."
She thought she would scream. Not him too. He said the same thing Captain Simms 
had told her. Lately everyone treated her like she was a dull child who didn't 
know anything. She was growing mighty weary of these men who thought they were 
so superior. If you asked her they'd done a mighty poor job of running things so 
far. Look at the mess her life was in by allowing males to do everything their 
way. It was becoming obvious to her that if she was ever going to find Jim and 
if Little Arrow was ever going to get home, she'd have to start taking matters 
into her own hands. Chato had made it abundantly clear he couldn't help her 
either, and he'd been her last hope. Chato's voice interrupted the direction of 
her thoughts, and she turned to face him concentrating on what he was saying.
"I promise you I will go and see Little Arrow right now. I will tell him he must 
be strong and that you feel sad about not being allowed to see him. Does that 
make you feel any better?" He hoped this would satisfy her for awhile because he 
had to leave in the morning for a three-day scouting expedition. He didn't want 
to have to worry about her doing something foolish while he was gone. He sensed 
she was not going to be easily dissuaded from trying to see Little Arrow.
Truthfully, he wished he didn't have to leave Fort Benson at all right now. This 
thought shocked him. Usually he couldn't wait for his next assignment, much 
preferring the wide open spaces to the confines of the fort walls and the odious 
presence of these uppity bluecoats.
It bothered him that this white girl had broken through the barriers he'd so 
carefully erected over the past two years.
Her presence dredged up long forgotten or at least well buried-memories of his 
past life as a Sioux brave. He preferred not to think about that part of his 
life anymore. The love he'd once felt for White Dove and the life they might 
have found together were over. He did what he had to do here at Fort Benson and 
there was no point dwelling on it. The last thing he needed was some paleface 
girl who didn't know what she was talking about coming along and messing up his 
life.
Melanie's answer interrupted his deep thoughts. "I suppose it makes me feel a 
little better, but I still wish I could go see him for myself. Why are you 
allowed to see him and not me?"
"It will only anger these bluecoats more if you continue to show kindness to 
someone they consider their enemy. I am sure Captain Simms is concerned about 
your safety."
"Oh pooh! These soldiers don't scare me."
Chato shook his head. She was such an innocent. But brave-he had to admit she 
was brave.
"I will go right away to see Little Arrow. Tomorrow I must leave for three days. 
Will you be all right while I am gone?"
"Why, yes. Don't go frettin' about me. I'll be just fine," she murmured not 
daring to meet his eyes. She was afraid that if she looked at him directly he'd 
easily read the deceit on her face. She knew the scout was trying in his own way 
to be kind, but she also knew herself. She would not rest until she actually saw 
Little Arrow. How could she ever do that though? She didn't even know where the 
stockade was located. An idea suddenly struck her and she turned to fully face 
him.
"Uh, Chato, where exactly is the stockade where Little Arrow is being kept?"
She held her breath.
"It is the last building on the right just beyond the stables, why?"
"I just wanted to know where he is," she lied.
He studied her face for a few seconds having the sneaking suspicion she was up 
to something. He hoped for her sake that he was wrong.
"I go now. Try not to worry too much. And Melanie, do not do anything foolish 
while I am away," he warned, thinking there was often a fine line between 
foolish and courageous.
The minute he'd strode out the doorway, she slammed the door behind him with all 
her might. Why the nerve of that man. Who did he think he was anyway-her father? 
She'd do anything she darn well pleased and if he didn't like it, it was just 
too bad. She intended to find a way to see Little Arrow and if Chato didn't 
approve-well that was his problem, not hers. She turned from the door wondering 
if she would actually be able to find Little Arrow. The fort was quite large, 
but at least now she knew in which direction to search. She lay down on the bed 
but sleep eluded her as her mind wrestled with a way to get to see Little Arrow.
Melanie halted her stealthy approach to the farthest structure on the fort 
grounds. She feared the beating of her heart was so loud it could be heard in 
the stillness of the crisp night air. The moon cast a bizarre shadow on the 
multiple buildings that made up Fort Benson, giving a grisly appearance to the 
scene. The normal hubbub of activity of the daytime was replaced by an eerie 
calm.
Leaning against the side of a wooden building, Melanie attempted to still her 
racing heartbeat. Second thoughts and indecision assaulted her. Would she find 
Little Arrow or would she be caught by one of the soldiers? Though she'd hate to 
face Captain Simms' wrath, the possibility of seeing Little Arrow was worth it. 
She needed to see with her own eyes that he was all right.
She straightened her shoulders and continued her cautious trek toward the 
stockade that loomed directly ahead of her. She was extremely grateful for the 
thickening clouds that all but obscured the moon now, shielding her presence 
from the few stragglers who still roamed the fort at this late hour.
"Hold it, Miss, I'm afraid you can't go in there!"
Moving to block her entrance into the stockade she hoped housed Little Arrow was 
a tall, young soldier.
He cleared his throat and continued, "I have direct orders from Captain Simms 
not to let anyone in without his express permission. I'm sorry," he finished. 
His six-foot frame literally towered over her.
Melanie sensed the young gangling soldier's hesitation and used it to her 
advantage. She tilted her head up and gazed into his face. With her most 
appealing and pleading expression she lied. "Why, I certainly do have Captain 
Simms' permission. How else would I've known where the child was being held? I'm 
surprised he didn't inform you." She smiled her sweetest smile, attempting to 
drive home her point.
The soldier hesitated, obviously not sure what action to take. She played on his 
indecision and quickly continued. "I simply want to see that Little Arrow is all 
right and being treated well, that's all. I promise I won't stay long. Please 
let me go in. Captain Simms said it would be fine."
"I'll allow you just a few minutes, Miss. It's highly irregular that Captain 
Simms didn't inform me of this-especially at this late hour of the evening." 
Giving Melanie a stern look he turned away to continue his watch.
Once inside, a dank, musty odor hung in the air and she wrinkled her nose 
against it. She hesitated a moment allowing her eyes to adjust to the low light 
being given off by a single burning candle. At least they weren't keeping Little 
Arrow completely in the dark.
Her eyes scanned the narrow, bleak room coming to rest on the slumbering form in 
the right corner. As she slowly approached, Little Arrow stirred, and a rush of 
tenderness enveloped her as her eyes met the chocolate brown of his.
A sleepy smile greeted her when she knelt and hugged him. How badly she had 
missed him these past few days.
"Little Arrow, how are you, sweetheart?" she whispered against his ear not 
willing to let him go just yet.
He held on to her as though he never wanted to let her go either. She could not 
prevent the tears that pooled in her eyes. A deep maternal feeling spread 
throughout her entire body, and she silently vowed whatever it took she would 
protect this little boy from these soldiers.
Disengaging himself slightly from Melanie's loving arms, Little Arrow smiled and 
attempted to tell her something in his own language. His courage and toughness 
even under such difficult circumstances struck her speechless. How could he 
stand being caged like an animal and still smile?
She examined his face more closely, searching for signs of tears but didn't find 
any. Each day that passed caused her to hold him in higher and higher regard.
Right now she wished with all her heart he could speak her language or she his. 
She wanted more than anything to comfort him with words of encouragement. Not 
able to do this she again gathered him close in her arms and softly sang him the 
same lullaby she had sung to him out on the plains. She hoped her body and 
warmth would comfort him even if her words could not.
It broke her heart to see him locked up in this cold, barren room, and she 
realized for the first time that his life was not safe here with these hostile 
soldiers. The necessity of having to lock him up was proof of that. Now that she 
had actually seen him like this, she had to do something. She had not saved this 
child only to have him imprisoned indefinitely or possibly harmed or worse by 
these hate-filled men. He belonged back with his people. There was no other 
choice.
When the scout returned she knew he would try to prevent her from doing what 
needed to be done. Despite being worried about what might lay ahead for her and 
Little Arrow, with Chato due back tomorrow, she realized she had to get him away 
from here tonight.
Time was fleeing quickly. Reluctantly she disengaged herself from his tight 
embrace. Even though he could not understand her words she whispered, "You'll 
soon be out of here, Little Arrow. I'm taking you home."
Almost as though he understood her, he nodded his head. She stood and with 
determination walked to the door of the small stockade.
Chapter Four
She needed a distraction big enough to make the soldier who guarded the stockade 
leave his post. Then, if she got Little Arrow out, they would also have to get 
past the other guard at the front gate. Oh, God. How am I ever gonna manage 
this? She slowed her steps, her gaze frantically searching for 
something-anything-to cause a ruckus.
The neighing of a horse nearby reminded her that she and Little Arrow also 
needed transportation to escape quickly. She neared the tall, wooden building 
from where the sound had originated recalling Chato had said the stockade was 
next to the stable. Well, if it was a horse they needed, then a horse she would 
find.
As she approached the big double doors of the stable, a thin stream of light 
spilled out from the crack between them. Suddenly, she heard whistling and a 
stocky soldier, carrying a lantern, emerged.
Melanie flattened herself against a large pile of hay and waited while the 
soldier placed the lantern a few yards from the door. He then headed in the 
direction of the main sleeping quarters.
The breath she held came out in a rush and she brushed the prickly hay from her 
clothes. The sight of the lit lantern gave her an idea. A fire! What better 
distraction than a fire! That would surely get everyone's attention and keep 
them busy for awhile. Even the guard at the front gate might help put it out. 
Her excitement grew as she considered all the possibilities. For once she didn't 
want to be sorry later for what she did now-but there simply wasn't much time to 
plan or weigh the consequences.
She worked quickly but quietly, loading up her arms full of the scratchy hay. 
Over and over she carried it far from the stable to a clearing near the parade 
grounds. It felt as if it took forever because of the great distance that she 
needed to go. But she had to be sure it was far enough away from Little Arrow 
and the horses so she could get him out and take a horse without being seen.
Thank goodness, there was no one else around. Apparently most of the men were 
sleeping at this late hour. Melanie took great pains not to pile the dry hay too 
close to any buildings because she did not want anyone, animal or human, to get 
hurt or any of the buildings to be badly damaged. "I just want Little Arrow to 
be safe and with his people," she whispered.
More than an hour later, exhausted, Melanie stood before a giant pile of hay 
bigger than she was. Her hands shook from both apprehension and anticipation as 
she raised the lantern to start the fire. "Please, let this work," she prayed.
"Hurry, Little Arrow, we don't have much time!" Her breath came out in short 
pants and fear made her mouth feel like it was stuffed with dry cotton. Little 
Arrow, still half asleep, warily allowed her to lead him by the hand and out the 
door of the stockade.
Once outside he became instantly alert as the acrid smell of fire hit his 
nostrils and the neighing of a horse attracted his attention. The shouts of men 
and the pounding of boots against the hard ground grew louder as soldiers 
converged from all directions on the huge inferno that lit up the sky.
Her heart thudded against her chest as she reached down and picked up Little 
Arrow, planting him firmly on the back of the reddish-brown cavalry horse. The 
animal rolled its eyes and stamped its feet, noticeably nervous from the distant 
fire and commotion.
"Stay still so I can get on you," she ordered the bay. Again she regretted not 
being able to handle a horse better. At that very moment she vowed when she 
reached Jim, the first thing she would do was have him teach her to ride 
expertly. Back on her farm her Ma had always insisted she only ride sidesaddle 
on mild mares that were familiar with her. This stallion was obviously not 
thrilled by this stranger awkwardly trying to mount him.
Spurred on by the consuming fear of detection, Melanie managed to get astride 
the horse and lead it toward the front gate. Once there she quickly jumped down, 
landing with a thud. Just as she had hoped, the guard had abandoned his post to 
help with the fire.
The bolt was heavier than it looked, but she steadily cranked it despite the 
ache it caused to her upper arms. She had gotten this far. She would not come 
this close to escape only to fail now. A thud drew her attention and she turned 
to find Little Arrow standing next to her. He reached up to help her and they 
both continued to crank until finally the bolt completely cleared the gate. She 
was then able to open it wide enough to allow the horse to fit through. Fearing 
the nervous animal would make a fuss if she remounted, she instead grabbed hold 
of the reins and led him quietly through the entryway, Little Arrow on her 
heels.
Exhilaration seized her as she realized they had actually left the fort 
undetected. She lifted Little Arrow back onto the horse and mounted as quickly 
as she could trotting off to the left. She had no idea where she was headed but 
right now all that mattered was putting as much distance between them and Fort 
Benson as possible. Tomorrow would be soon enough to try and figure out in which 
direction lay Little Arrow's home.
After a few minutes, she chanced a furtive glance back toward the fort. A soft 
orange glow billowed above the wooden walls only to eventually be swallowed up 
by the inky blackness of the night sky. Distant shouts carried through the calm 
air indicating the fire was not out yet. That should give them a little more 
head start before they would be missed.
Melanie turned back around to Little Arrow. "We sure were lucky I found this 
horse already saddled. Someone must have just ridden in and ran to help with the 
fire. Good thing too, because I wouldn't know how to saddle a horse anymore than 
a frog can fly." She stopped then and looked down at the boy who intently stared 
up at her.
She smiled. "You're going to have to teach me to talk Cheyenne or you're going 
to have to learn English."
Little Arrow babbled a few sentences in his own language and then snuggled back 
against her chest. She wrapped one arm tightly around his waist and sighed 
deeply.
She hoped she had done the right thing by leaving the fort. She was not used to 
these burdensome responsibilities. Back in Virginia, other people had always 
taken care of her. She had never really had to be on her own like this before. 
It was scary, but a little exciting too.
The hours passed slowly and she shivered when the wind picked up slightly and 
the temperature dropped a bit. Melanie didn't dare stop to rest even though 
Little Arrow had long ago fallen asleep against her shoulder. Cold and weary 
beyond belief, she continued along.
Thoughts of Jim occupied her as she speculated on what he might say when he 
heard about all the bizarre things that had happened to her since coming out 
West. She could clearly picture him scolding her for not staying put and waiting 
for him to come fetch her from the fort. Sometimes it seemed like a dream she 
would awaken from at any moment but the brisk night air and strange sounds made 
by prowling night creatures were all too real for this to be a dream.
She stared out into the dark night and a smile tugged at her lips as her 
thoughts turned to Chato's reaction when he discovered her and little Arrow 
gone. He'd be furious. Well, that couldn't be helped. She'd done what she had to 
do. Much to her parents consternation she'd never been able to docilely follow 
orders she didn't agree with. And she certainly wasn't about to start now. 
Besides, she didn't understand Chato anyway. Why, when he was an Indian himself 
did he work with the soldiers?
Well, soon she would have to find a place to rest because her eyes felt as heavy 
as two logs. Her thighs ached and her mind was simply too exhausted to try and 
figure out Chato or anyone else at the moment.
Two days later a familiar feeling settled itself over Melanie. Hadn't she and 
this little boy been through this before? Whatever had made her believe that she 
would be capable of finding his people? As usual, she hadn't thought things 
through enough. Truthfully, she had to admit that somehow she had believed 
Little Arrow would at least know the right direction. Somewhere she'd been told 
savages had a sense for things like direction and tracking. Was she crazy? 
Indian or not, he was only five years old.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead as she watched Little Arrow finish eating. 
Though the air was cool, the morning sun felt hot. Actually they had been quite 
fortunate. Not only had the horse been still saddled, but it had also had a 
canteen full of water attached to the saddle and some beef jerky and sourdough 
biscuits still inside the saddlebag. Besides that, today, they had come across a 
small stream. It felt so good to feel clean again and she could refill the 
canteen.
What bothered her most was she had no idea if she was headed in the correct 
direction to find Little Arrow's tribe. She could not even be sure she was not 
going around in one big circle.
Unexpectedly, she spied movement off in the distance to her right. Squinting to 
try and make out what it was, she realized with alarm it looked like a lone 
rider.
"Little Arrow, quick, behind that rock," she ordered as she propelled him there 
by his arm. "Get down," she instructed, crouching low herself. She hoped the 
rider would not spot their horse that grazed near the stream. It hit her then 
just how vulnerable they were out here alone on the plains. They could easily 
both be captured or killed by the same Indians who had slaughtered the people on 
her wagon train!
The rider slowed his horse to a walk just as he reached their hiding place. 
Melanie flattened herself and the boy against the rock trying to make them as 
invisible as possible.
"Do you really think you are hidden, Melanie?" a familiar voice rang out.
She let out a sigh of relief. "Chato? How did you find us?" She came out from 
behind the huge boulder-Little Arrow followed grinning from ear to ear.
"You left a trail even a small boy could follow. What do you think you are doing 
anyway?" Before she could answer, Chato continued, "I came back from my tracking 
to find there had been a mysterious fire and you and the boy were gone. I 
trailed you for over twenty-four hours. Where do you think you go?"
For the first time she noticed the lines of fatigue etched on Chato's face. He 
looked drained, like he had not slept in days. The glint in his dark eyes told 
her he was blasted angry with her, too.
Her chin up, in her haughtiest voice, she said, "I couldn't just leave him in 
that horrible place locked up like a hog in a sty, now could I? I'm taking him 
home. Why are you-"
"The Cheyenne camp is North of the fort. You travel south."
She knew it. She just knew it. They had been traveling in the wrong direction. 
Still, he didn't have to sound so smug about it. He made her feel like a fool.
"Where are we headed then?" she asked.
"The New Mexico Territory. That is, if you stay in one direction. You have not 
exactly been doing that either," he added dryly.
In spite of his superior attitude toward her, she was actually thrilled Chato 
had found them as she felt the heavy yoke of responsibility lift from her 
shoulders. Now she was sure Little Arrow would get safely back to his family. 
But she wasn't about to tell him that. His head was big enough.
In an effort to direct the topic of conversation to something other than her 
inexperience and mistakes, Melanie queried, "Chato, would you help me take 
Little Arrow home? Please? You could find his people. I know you could."
Her blatant confidence in him touched Chato.
"I guess if I am ever going to get any sleep again I have little choice. You are 
the most stubborn, foolhardy girl I ever met. You are determined to get yourself 
killed, it seems," he replied shaking his head.
Her anger rose then too. Did he have to constantly point out her shortcomings? 
Without thinking she spat out, "At least I'm not a traitor to my own people." 
She turned her back on him so he would not see the tears that threatened to 
spill from her eyes at any moment.
Chato, stung by her accusation, spun her back around to face him, his dark eyes 
looking like the sky just before a violent thunderstorm.
"Get one thing straight here. I am going to take Little Arrow to the Cheyenne 
camp. While we are traveling there, I am in charge-not you. I told you not to do 
anything foolish. If I had not tracked you down you both would have died out 
here. So you better stop judging me right here and now."
He stomped away then to see to the horse, lazily grazing on the bank of the 
stream.
She watched him go, still smarting from his criticism though she knew he was 
right. She had made a muddle of things. But at least she had tried. He was just 
going to leave Little Arrow locked up. Still, she should never have called him a 
traitor-why, she didn't truly know anything about him or his background. But he 
made her feel so mad, so inadequate the way he always pointed out her mistakes. 
Though she had the strong urge to cry she refused to give in to it. She would 
not give him the chance to make fun of her for this weakness also. If it was the 
last thing she ever did she intended to show Mr. know it all, Chato, that 
Melanie Blake wasn't a foolish, inept girl at all. She was perfectly capable of 
taking care of herself without his help.
She turned toward Little Arrow who stood watching her with a somber expression 
on his face, and experienced a pang of guilt. He had looked so happy when Chato 
had first ridden up.
"Don't worry, Little Arrow. Since it seems I have to put up with that high and 
mighty man's presence in order to get you home, I'll try not to do anything to 
make him angry again. Before you know it, you'll be back where you belong-with 
your people."
Her tone of voice obviously reassured the little boy all was well because he 
scampered away then, after the scout.
Melanie sat down and leaned heavily against the rock feeling more exhausted from 
the harsh exchange of words with Chato than from the trip itself. Why did her 
best of intentions always end up in a confrontation with this man? And would her 
life ever be normal again? she wondered.
Chato removed the horse's saddle and briskly rubbed the sleek animal's coat. It 
was obvious Melanie knew nothing about properly caring for a horse. He did not 
need this complication in his life right now. He would never be able to go back 
to the fort-not after he disobeyed direct orders from Captain Simms not to go 
after the girl and the child. But he couldn't just leave them out here to die. 
He'd already witnessed too many innocent lives taken-both Indian and White.
It was clear to him this white girl would mean nothing but trouble for him and 
he wanted to hate her like the rest of her kind. But in spite of what he said to 
her, he truthfully admired her. How many white women would risk their own lives 
to help an Indian child? No other white person would even care what happened to 
Little Arrow. She was as brave as his own people were. In truth, she was more 
courageous than most white soldiers he had come in contact with even if she 
didn't know a thing about direction.
He chuckled. That pint-size ball of fire had outsmarted an entire fort of 
trained soldiers. They had been red-faced over being tricked by this young 
woman. In fact, he wasn't sure he, himself, could have done a better job of 
getting Little Arrow out of the fort unnoticed the way she had.
"Damn, I refuse to let you get to me, white woman," he spat out to no one in 
particular. He glanced up from what he was doing, then, to see Little Arrow 
approaching and was glad the boy did not understand the white man's tongue.
Chapter Five
October, 1863
They had been on the trail for almost a week. It truly amazed Melanie how well 
Little Arrow had learned English. He already knew several words and understood 
some of what she and Chato said to him. The Indian scout would often say 
something in his guttural language and then repeat it in English. As bright as 
Little Arrow was he picked it up quickly. She found Chato's patience with the 
little boy surprising considering how he was anything but patient with her. It 
seemed she could do nothing to please him these days even though she tried hard 
to pitch in with whatever needed to be done. Each night she roasted the game, 
which Chato had secured, over the campfire. She also joined them in their daily 
searches for edible plants, but no matter what she did the Indian always managed 
to find fault with it.
He really was a mystery. On the one hand he had obviously been worried enough 
about her and the boy to come after them-yet most of the time he acted like her 
presence annoyed him. He even avoided her a lot of the time. Of course, he was a 
savage. But, in truth, the stories of heathens she'd heard back in Virginia bore 
much more resemblance to the ones who had attacked her wagon train than to this 
clean, English speaking man. Still, Chato did exude a certain raw maleness she'd 
never witnessed in any gentleman she'd met before. At times, he reminded her of 
an untamed animal ready to unleash that raw power at any moment if provoked. 
Yet, she never feared for her safety when he was near. After what had happened 
to the wagon train it surprised her that she trusted an Indian. While she did 
not fear for her life with this scout she certainly could not say she was 
comfortable in his company. Sometimes she caught him looking at her in his bold 
way and it always set her heart to racing.
Melanie heard a noise and looked up to see Chato approaching with some type of 
small game dangling from his left hand. He was too far away from her to make out 
what it was. She was powerless to stop herself from staring at the way his leg 
muscles bulged and flexed with each step as he strode toward her.
When Chato reached her, he handed her the plump jackrabbit. She avoided looking 
directly at the dead animal, not wanting him to know how the sight of it made 
her stomach churn.
Chato watched Melanie gingerly lay the dead animal on the grass as far away from 
her as she could. She didn't fool him. Clearly this white girl was still not 
used to the sight of dead game. He had wanted to teach her to skin the animals 
after he made the kill, as the Indian maidens did, but obviously she was not 
ready for that yet so he cleaned it earlier himself.
He sat down beside her, missing the surprised look she cast in his direction. 
Breaking the silence, he said, "You should have seen Little Arrow. That boy has 
sharp instincts, already. When he grows up he will be a fierce warrior and a 
good hunter. He saw the rabbit before I did."
She smiled at the unmistakable pride in his voice. "Where is he now?"
"Resting. I think his big hunting trip tired him out. He should be tired. I 
never saw anything like it. His aim is straight and true and-what is so funny?"
She could hardly stop laughing long enough to say, "You sound just like a proud 
father boasting about his son." She didn't notice the hurt look that briefly 
crossed the scout's face at her words.
"I guess I do," was all he said.
He shocked her then by turning to completely face her and abruptly changing the 
subject.
"Melanie, you never told me. Where were you headed when your wagon train was 
attacked?" His question caught her off guard coming out of nowhere. She had 
always assumed Captain Simms had told him about her destination. She shifted to 
fully face him.
"I was on my way to my fiancé's Uncle's ranch."
"Fiancé? I do not know this word."
"Oh. Fiancé is the man a woman promises to marry," she explained.
Why did it feel like someone had just punched him hard in the stomach sucking 
the air from his lungs?
"Then after we return Little Arrow to his people that is where you will go-to 
the ranch?" he questioned, trying to sound unconcerned.
"Yes. But the problem is I don't know how to find it. Do you think you might be 
able to help me?"
The innocent expression on her face told him she had no idea what she asked of 
him. He also knew he had no right to feel this deep sense of loss he was 
experiencing at her words. She was Washichu, white. She could never be anything 
to him anyway. And he needed no one, so why should he feel like this? Like 
someone had just knocked the ground out from underneath him. She intently 
watched him, waiting for his answer. Did he really have a choice, anyway? If he 
was going to find relief from these emotions her presence stirred up, he needed 
to be rid of her once and for all. Perhaps then, his life could return to 
normal.
"Where is the ranch located?"
"It's near Denver. All I know is it's called the Triple C ranch. Have you ever 
heard of it?" she hopefully asked.
"There are many cattle ranches outside of Denver."
His vague answer gave her the sinking feeling he was unwilling to help her find 
it. Unconsciously she inched a bit closer to him intent on persuading him to 
help her.
"I'm sure Jim would reward you if you helped me. He's very rich, you know."
"If I find the ranch-I do it for you, Melanie." And myself. "I have no need of a 
rich white man's money."
The vehemence in his voice told her she had somehow insulted him by the offer to 
pay him. She bit her lower lip wondering for the millionth time why she could 
never seem to do or say anything right with this man. Still-he had indicated he 
might be willing to help her.
She jumped on his words. "Then does that mean you will help me find the ranch?"
"If that is what you want, yes I will do what I can."
"Oh, thank you. But what about you? Will you go back to the fort after that?"
"Maybe," was all he said. He didn't want to tell her he had left without 
permission. The bluecoats were probably even now out looking to arrest him. 
Leaving an army post without leave was considered a very serious offense 
especially for an Indian. He would have to be real careful not to encounter any 
soldiers from the fort on their trip to the Cheyenne encampment.
"I will start the fire now so you can make us some dinner."
As abruptly as he had sat down, he was gone. She watched him go feeling as if a 
great burden had been lifted off her shoulders. Soon she would be with Jim 
making plans for their wedding. At last this whole episode in her life would 
truly be behind her and she could finally get on with her life.
The sun was a pink ball of fire suspended on the edge of the horizon. Varying 
shades of blue and purple streaked out surrounding it as it paused briefly, then 
took its final plunge, signaling the official end of the day.
Chato watched Little Arrow and Melanie near the stream. The little boy had 
something in his hands he was attempting to show her. As he got near her 
something green shot out of his hands and the girl jumped back screaming. Little 
Arrow collapsed laughing as a frog hopped away.
Chato told himself to look away as Melanie joined in the laughter but he could 
not tear his eyes from her. He did not want to notice the way her breasts 
bounced provocatively as she laughed. Nor did he want to acknowledge the 
devastating effect her smile had on his senses. He did not want her to be so 
damn beautiful. Her hair cascaded down her back and shoulders like waves of 
gold, and he imagined how those reddish-blond curls would look lying against her 
bare shoulders and breasts.
Stop it, he told himself. She belongs to another. Even if she didn't, two whole 
cultures separated them. She was white and he was Indian. Their people were at 
war with one another. There could never be anything between them. He must 
control these thoughts. At times like this, though, she made it so difficult.
The rapport and love that obviously existed between her and Little Arrow 
actually made him jealous. To her he was only a means for getting back to the 
man she loved. She would never look at him the way she looked at Little Arrow. 
He could see the love shining in her brilliant green eyes. He needed to be rid 
of her as it was becoming pure torture to be in such close contact with this 
lovely woman and to not be able to touch her. At times he saw the bewilderment 
in her eyes when he treated her coldly but it was his only defense.
If he could hate her like he did all other Washichus, it would be so much 
easier. The problem was he could find nothing to hate about this tiny white 
girl.
Little Arrow captured the frog again and brought it over for his inspection. He 
was grateful for the distraction from his wayward thoughts.
"Chato, Melanie 'fraid of frog," he said in halting English.
"Well, you know how women are. He is a big one, no?"
"Yes. I found him by water. Keep him?" the little boy questioned.
"For tonight, but tomorrow you must leave him by the stream. He will die if you 
take him from his home."
"Like our people die if the-vehoe.
"Whites," Chato supplied the English word Little Arrow did not know.
"Whites make us leave our home?" he finished.
"Yes. Sadly, you speak true. The white men are greedy. They do not want to share 
Mother Earth. They foolishly think they can own her. We know the land belongs to 
all the creatures of this world."
"Melanie-vehoe-white, but she different. She"-He made the sign for the same as 
himself and Chato. "Why?"
Chato smiled down at the boy. Little Arrow was asking the same question he had 
asked himself many times. Right now he didn't want to be reminded of this 
difference. A war raged within him to find white traits in Melanie.
"She is different from other whites, Little Arrow," he admitted, "but truthfully 
I do not know why."
Melanie called to Little Arrow at that moment to come and look at something in 
the stream. He ran off clutching the fat frog tightly in his small fist.
Chato took this opportunity to walk away in the opposite direction. Right now he 
needed to distance himself from the touching scene the two made talking and 
playing near the water's edge. It stirred up an aching loneliness he had not 
felt for many years. Melanie and Little Arrow reminded him, somehow, of all that 
was missing in his own life-a family, friends, a woman of his own who would love 
him, a son or daughter, a sense of belonging somewhere. All of a sudden his life 
felt so empty.
Chapter Six
The days took on a certain routine. The three rose at dawn each morning to get 
an early start, then quickly ate the left-overs from the night's previous 
supper, mounted up and headed out for yet another grueling day of travel. Today 
was no exception. Melanie's thoughts kept boredom at bay as their horse plodded 
along. She realized now the truth of Chato's words about them probably dying out 
here on the plains if he had not found them. She had no idea the Cheyenne 
Village was so far away from the fort. They must have traveled sixty miles by 
now! She guessed the old saying about ignorance being bliss must be true. It had 
been an absolutely crazy idea to leave the fort without anyone to show her the 
way.
Well, she thought, I guess my mother was right when she used to say, "You be 
having more guts than you be having common sense, girl." She also remembered how 
her pa had always come to her defense whenever her ma had said that. A smile 
tugged at her lips as she thought back to how she could never seem to do any 
wrong in her father's eyes. In light of the foolhardy things she'd done since 
coming out west, however, she concluded her mother had been right about her, all 
along. That thought sparked other images of her mother. Always the practical one 
in the family, her ma had often clashed with her high-spirited, fun-loving pa. 
But the deep abiding love her parents had felt for one another had never been in 
question. And besides her pragmatic side, her mother had always been loving and 
caring too. She could never remember a nasty word spoken by her ma against 
anyone.
But her mother had retained her practical side right up until the moment of her 
death. As though it was only yesterday instead of six months ago, Melanie's mind 
replayed those final minutes of her mother's life. A picture of her ma's frail 
hand, almost translucent with thin trails of blue veins, flashed across her 
eyes. So real was the image she could almost feel her mother's thin hand 
squeezing her own and she could clearly see her mother's piercing blue eyes 
imploring her with an intensity that defied her disease-ravaged, weakened state.
Her mother's beloved voice rang in her ears.
"Promise me, daughter, by the grace of St. Patrick, you'll go to James and marry 
him. Since you were a wee child I've dreamed of you and James being married. 
I'll not rest easy unless I be knowing you'll be taken care of and happy."
Melanie swallowed the lump in her throat at the vivid memory of how she had 
hastened to answer her mother and to ease her final hours.
"Yes, mother, I promise I'll write to Jim today and tell him I will be his wife. 
Please don't fret so about me. I will find love and happiness. I promise."
"Are you cold?" Chato inquired. His question cut through her reminiscences of 
her last words to her mother and snapped her instantly back to the present. She 
shivered and tightened the blanket around her shoulders against the unusually 
nippy October air.
"A little. Why is it so chilly already?"
"Winter is showing his face early," he replied.
She thought that an odd way of putting it but didn't comment.
"How much further is it to the Cheyenne village-it seems like we've been 
traveling for weeks now."
His deep chuckle caused her to turn and look up at him in surprise. She liked to 
hear him laugh. Most of the time he was so solemn.
"It has been only ten days. We should reach the Cheyenne's winter camp in maybe 
three more days. If you had not ridden the wrong way we would already be there," 
he gently reminded her.
She turned back toward the front, stung by his implied criticism of her. Why did 
he have to keep bringing that up? She leaned forward straightening her back so 
as not to have contact with the hard wall of his chest. She didn't see why he 
insisted she share his horse anyway. Couldn't she ride with Little Arrow or even 
by herself? He claimed either of those arrangements, which she'd suggested, 
would slow them down. Pooh, he always has to have everything his own way.
Melanie sensed something was wrong from the tense way in which Chato suddenly 
held himself. His alert eyes continually scanned the horizon, especially in one 
direction. Though she still smarted over his earlier criticism of her, curiosity 
got the best of her.
"What's wrong, Chato?"
"Bluecoats have been following us for awhile now," he answered her in sharp, 
curt words.
A terrible dread moved through her that this arduous journey might have all been 
for nothing. If they took Little Arrow back to the fort and imprisoned him 
again-she wouldn't be able to stand it. She knew this time the soldiers would 
watch her like a blue-tailed hawk a watchin' a chicken. She would not escape 
again.
"You can't let them capture Little Arrow."
The pleading note in Melanie's voice tore through his soul. The weight of 
responsibility pressed down on his shoulders like a heavy stone and though he 
could not explain why, if his very life depended on it, he determined not to let 
this girl down. Her clear green eyes conveyed such trust in him reminding him of 
another young girl and of a time long ago. The look in White Dove's eyes had 
been the same. Chato shook off these disturbing remembrances and barked an order 
at Little Arrow. His horse veered sharply to the left, nearly unseating Melanie 
who was saved only by the iron band of his arm around her waist. His destination 
became clear a few minutes later as he brought the animal to an abrupt stop 
behind a large rock formation.
Little Arrow followed his lead as he guided his horse into what appeared to be a 
small cave. Melanie marveled at Chato's uncanny ability to find them a safe 
place to hide from the fast approaching cavalry. Some of her previous dread and 
apprehension faded as they settled into the cave, but the waiting seemed 
interminable. She wrapped her arms around Little Arrow and hugged him tightly.
Shivers raced up and down her spine when the huge group of soldiers passed by 
their hiding place. The drumming of the horses' hooves sounded thunderous to her 
ears.
A short while later Chato decided it was safe for them to remount their horses 
and continue their trek. He helped her up onto his horse and then swung up 
behind her. She sighed. That had been close. Too close. She had no desire to 
return to Fort Benson. Soon they would return Little Arrow to his family and 
then she and Chato would be free to find Jim. Before long she would be married. 
She briefly wondered why that thought did not give her the usual feeling of 
happiness that it always had before. She supposed it was because it had been so 
long since she had seen Jim. Yes, that was all it was-she was sure.
That night they camped without a fire. Chato feared the light given off by a 
campfire would attract the soldiers who might still be in the area.
Melanie's teeth chattered from the biting cold wind, which a warm fire would 
have alleviated. A full moon shimmered in the sky casting pale light over the 
scene. At least they didn't have to be in pitch darkness too, she thought. Chato 
sat down close to her and wrapped his blanket securely around both of them.
"I am sorry we cannot build a fire tonight."
"Is Little Arrow warm enough, do you think?" she questioned, concern shining in 
her eyes.
They both gazed down at the sleeping child beside them, totally encased in two 
wool blankets. She thought he resembled the cocoon from which beautiful brightly 
colored butterflies emerged in the summer.
"He is fine. It is you I worry about. Little Arrow is used to sleeping outside 
and all kinds of hardship. You are not." Was that another criticism of whites, 
she wondered. Who would want to sleep outside if they didn't have to? She 
forcefully held on to her temper not wanting to argue with him. Instead she 
asked him about something that had piqued her curiosity from the first time she 
had seen him.
"Chato, how did you learn to speak English so well?"
He stared down at her face illuminated by the bright moon. "When I was very 
young the white man was rare. Only an occasional trapper wandered around these 
parts. But from these few white men my people learned to speak your language. It 
is much different now. Now there are too many whites-too much bloodshed."
An intense expression of sadness crossed his face. Melanie bit back the retort 
that instantly rose to her lips. From what she'd seen so far it hardly seemed 
her people were responsible for the bloodshed. More like his-but she wisely held 
her tongue again not wanting to anger him. Her curiosity was too great so she 
asked.
"But why? Why does there have to be this hatred between the whites and the 
Indians? Why can't we all live together in peace?"
"Your people can answer that question better than mine. We are not taking away 
their homes and trying to put them on reservations."
Hearing the bitterness in his voice sparked her to ask the question that so 
perplexed her.
"I don't understand, then, why you help the soldiers if you feel the whites are 
wrong. Why aren't you in your village fighting with your own tribe?"
"It is too long a story to get into. I have my reasons."
She watched that closed look come onto his face she had grown to hate. Both he 
and Little Arrow had the uncanny ability to make their expressions completely 
blank whenever they wished to. It drove her crazy. She had no idea what they 
were thinking or feeling when they did that. She assumed it must be an Indian 
trait.
In spite of his expressionless countenance, she persisted. "But don't you feel 
like a trai-bad about what you're doing to your own people?"
The arm that rested on her shoulder stiffened at her words and for a moment she 
thought she had gone too far.
"I have no people anymore."
"What do you mean, you have no people anymore? Don't you have any family?"
He looked down at this tiny white girl who sat nestled in his arms for warmth. 
Her bright prairie grass eyes awaited expectantly his answer. He'd never shared 
this with anyone but all of a sudden an overwhelming need to share his pain with 
her seized him. He took a deep breath and slowly began his story.
"Three years ago I was banished in disgrace from the Teton Sioux Indians, my 
people, never to return."
She twisted around to clearly see his face, stunned by his startling words.
"But why?"
"I brought a wounded man-a white trapper, into my village. I tended his wounds. 
I came upon him and I knew without help, he would die."
"That doesn't sound to me like you did anything wrong. You only did the kind 
thing. Why was your family angry about that? I don't understand."
"Somehow, to this day I do not know how or why, considering his weakened 
condition, this man stole a horse and killed the brave who guarded the herd. 
I..."
"Oh my God," she blurted out.
"I was held responsible for the man's death and the stolen horse."
"But it wasn't your fault. You had no idea he would do that."
"The man was in our village because of me. I had brought him there. Because of 
my actions, one of my people was dead. I was sent away in shame and told never 
to return."
"That's the most horrible thing I've ever heard. It's not fair."
"To my people, it is justice."
"But what about your family and friends? Couldn't anyone have gone with you so 
you wouldn't be all alone?"
"It is the People's way-you are dead to your family and friends. I was to be 
married but White Dove chose to stay with her people. I was dead to her also."
The expression of pure contempt and disgust in White Dove's eyes that day 
flashed across his mind as vividly now as then and he knew it would stay with 
him the rest of his life.
The anguish in his voice tore at Melanie's heart. Though he tried to sound 
matter of fact, she could feel his pain, his shame, like a palpable thing. It 
hung heavy in the air. She could barely comprehend what it must feel like to be 
told by everyone you hold dear, especially the woman you love and are about to 
marry, you're not wanted anymore and to just go away and never come back.
"Couldn't you have gone to live with another tribe?" she gently probed.
"Word spreads quickly among The People. Everywhere I went I was turned away. I 
was not welcomed by any of my kind. The bluecoats needed my skills so they at 
least put up with me."
"You poor..."
"Do not pity me." A muscle worked in his jaw and the sharpness in his voice left 
no doubt he did not want her sympathy. Though she would not risk his anger 
further by telling him so, she did feel sorry for him. How could his parents 
turn their back on their own son like that? What kind of woman would turn away 
from the man she loves? No wonder they were called savages, she thought.
Chato picked up a twig from the ground, took out his knife and began whittling 
furiously. He couldn't stand her pity. Though not exactly sure what it was that 
he did want from her, he knew pity was not it. He was disgusted with himself. 
Why had he opened up to her like that? Many people had asked him that same 
question over the years but he had always avoided their prying.
This particular girl had a way of making him feel vulnerable. It wasn't a 
feeling he liked at all. Damn. She belonged to another. He could never have her. 
His mind knew that and accepted it. If only his heart could do the same. Why did 
it beat faster whenever he caught sight of her? Why did her nearness have such a 
devastating effect on him? And most of all, why did he find himself telling her 
things he had never told anyone else? Feeling uncomfortable about exposing so 
much of himself to her, he sought to turn the conversation in another direction. 
He fully faced her once again.
"Tell me about the man you will marry."
"Jim?" The change of topic startled her.
"That is his name?"
"Yes. Jim Colter." After a moment she continued. "His family lived near us when 
I was a child. We often played together when we were small back in 
Charlottesville. I think our parents just always assumed we'd be married to each 
other when we grew up. Mother, especially encouraged it."
"And your father?"
"My father believed you should marry the one true love of your life even if your 
families didn't agree."
"Your father sounds like a wise man."
"He was. He really was so smart, and so much fun. And he was always there to get 
me out of trouble if I did something without thinking." She paused a minute, 
then smiled. "Like the time I decided it'd be a heap of fun to play with the 
baby pigs. Without a thought to what I was a doin', I left the gate open and all 
the hogs escaped. I was so scared." She looked at Chato. "It took Pa four hours 
to find them all." She shook her head from side to side.
"Do you believe instead of a whipping all Pa did was take me on his knee. I can 
still remember his exact words. 'Me darlin daughter,' he said, ''tis glad I am 
that you be safe, but the next time you be taking a fancy to the wee pigs-you be 
locking the gate.'" She smiled again and Chato returned her smile.
"Pa was like that. He never got angry with me even when I deserved it." She 
paused, then, "He died two years ago."
"I am sorry-And your mother? Is she still living?"
"No. She died six months ago. That's when I decided to accept Jim's proposal. He 
had moved to the Colorado Territory a few months before ma's death to help his 
uncle on his cattle ranch. He was disappointed when I wouldn't marry him and go 
with him back then."
"Why did you not go with him?"
"Oh, I don't know. I wasn't sure I loved him enough and I didn't want to leave 
Virginia. Ma's health wasn't good. She couldn't have survived the journey and I 
wouldn't leave her. So there really was no choice."
"When your mother died, you decided you did love Jim enough after all, is that 
it, Melanie?" he finished for her.
She looked at him strangely. Somehow when he put it that way it sounded like she 
didn't truly love Jim. She hastened to defend her position.
"I love Jim very much and I want to marry him as soon as I can."
He noted the defensive tone in her voice and his heart skipped a beat. Could it 
be possible she had some doubts about really loving this Jim? It sounded to him 
as if she was trying as hard to convince herself as she was him of the sincerity 
of her feelings for this man.
Maybe, just maybe, he could play on her indecision and turn her heart in a 
different direction.
With hope in his soul for the first time since meeting this beautiful, brave, 
white girl, Chato did not regret his decision to come after her. All he needed 
was a chance. A chance to get her to fall in love with him. He knew he was 
asking for trouble but he could not make his heart indifferent any more. It 
seemed to have a mind of its own where Melanie was concerned.
"We better try and get some sleep now," he told her.
Melanie, exhausted from their brush with the soldiers, immediately lay down 
snuggling deep into the warmth of the scratchy army blanket. Within minutes her 
even breathing told Chato she was asleep.
Sleep for him, on the other hand, was a long time in coming this night.
Melanie could not get over the change in Chato the following morning. She had 
never seen him like this before. He actually seemed in a light-hearted mood. A 
new expression appeared on his face-as though he had a secret. She supposed it 
must be the fact they were getting close to the Cheyenne Village. Earlier he had 
pointed out fresh pony droppings along the way that indicated the Indians were 
near.
She marveled at how he had spotted these subtle indications of the Indians' 
presence. She would have never even noticed them, or if she had, would have 
thought they were from some wild animal. Little Arrow, too, seemed hardly able 
to contain his excitement at being so close to his home. She derived great 
pleasure from seeing Little Arrow so obviously happy but the pleasure was 
bittersweet. Being close to the Cheyenne Camp meant that finally this little 
boy's long ordeal away from his family would be over. But it also meant parting 
from him in a few days, most likely forever. That made her sad. Melanie loved 
this child and knew she would never forget him as long as she lived. One day she 
hoped she and Jim would have a little boy of their own just like Little Arrow.
"Melanie," Little Arrow interrupted her thoughts of him, motioning for her to 
follow. "Swim with us?"
She looked at him, swallowing the lump in her throat caused by the thought of 
never seeing him again.
"What do you mean, honey? Who's going swimming?"
"Me and Chato. Chato say this is river my family is camped near. Soon be there." 
The happiness, at being so near to his family, just emanated from him. He jumped 
around and excitement sparkled in his eyes.
"But it's too cold to go swimming," she responded.
"It not cold like before."
She had to admit that was true. The air felt quite a bit warmer than it had in 
days but to her way of thinking it was still entirely too chilly to go swimming.
"How about if I just watch you two?" she replied.
"Chato right," he said.
"What do you mean, 'Chato right.' Right about what?"
"He say Melanie sissy and say too cold." Little Arrow mispronounced "sissy" but 
she knew what he was trying to say.
"Chato said that about me?"
"Yes, he did."
"All right, Little Arrow, let's go swimming," she exclaimed. She'd be damned if 
she would allow this arrogant scout to think she was afraid of a little cold 
water. He always thought he was so superior. She'd show him this time.
Little Arrow sprinted off leading the way while Melanie kept up as best she 
could.
When she reached the sloping bank of the river she stopped dead in her tracks.
Chato already stood waist deep in the water, his bare chest glistening in the 
sunlight. Tiny droplets of water beaded against his copper chest. Each movement 
accented the rippling muscles of his powerful arms and chest. He was a 
magnificent specimen of a man.
Melanie, helpless to stop herself from staring, noted how his hair, coal black 
in color from the wetness, clung to his neck like a black mantle. Her throat 
suddenly felt dry and she wondered why. She tried hard to conjure up Jim's image 
to superimpose it over the scout's virile appearance, but to her great dismay, 
she discovered she could not. A kind of breathlessness attacked her body and she 
forced herself not to meet his bold eyes.
She tried hard to convince herself she reacted this way simply because she was 
not used to being so intimately close to a half naked man.
Wading into the river, she fought to keep the shock of the icy water, as it 
closed over her bare feet and ankles from showing on her face. If Chato could 
stand the low temperature of the water-so could she. If nothing else, it would 
be wonderful to feel clean again.
Little Arrow swam and splashed seemingly oblivious to the coldness of the water 
making her wonder if Indians had thicker skin or something. He too was naked to 
the waist. Her teeth chattered in spite of her valiant effort to control them. 
And she had all her clothes on and was only knee deep in the water.
"It is better to get completely wet all at once." Chato's amused tone angered 
her. Was he laughing at her again?
Little Arrow had stopped his antics and both he and Chato intently watched her 
as if they both expected her to turn around and leave the river.
Instead, she gritted her teeth and plunged completely under the surface. She 
came up sputtering as the shock of the cold water shot through her.
"What're you two staring at?" Haven't you ever seen a woman swimming before?"
Chato grinned. Something he rarely did. "Not one quite so beautiful," he 
honestly replied.
She felt her cheeks grow pink at his unexpected compliment. Her heartbeat 
accelerated and a breathless sensation seized her.
Before she knew what he was up to Chato reached out and pushed her under the 
water. Again she came up sputtering to the sound of Little Arrow's squeals of 
laughter.
Melanie responded by splashing Chato with all her might. When he started toward 
her she turned and swam away as fast as she could, grateful her father had 
taught her to be an experienced swimmer. For a while it appeared Chato would not 
be able to reach her. But suddenly he poured on the power, taking long agile 
strokes.
She screamed as his rock hard arms encircled her. "I have you now, Melanie." He 
smiled mischievously at her.
"And what do you intend to do with me, drown me?" she smiled back up at him, 
taunting him with those full lips and white teeth. Her beauty was breathtaking 
and Chato hesitated a moment as if unsure of what to do with her.
She saw the teasing glint leave his eyes and face a moment before she felt his 
lips touch her own. His kiss, tentative and testing at first, deepened as he 
tightened his arms around her. With his tongue he gently opened her lips and 
probed the recesses of her mouth.
She was too stunned at first to react. Little sparks of heat coursed through her 
body with each flick of his tongue. She had never been kissed like this before. 
Not even by Jim. All she had ever allowed him were chaste little pecks on her 
cheeks or lips, but her lips had always remained securely shut.
Almost as quickly as the kiss had begun, he ended it stepping back to create a 
space between them and she was unable to prevent her first 
reaction-disappointment.
"Jim is a very lucky man." Without another word he turned and swam away.
She watched him go, his movements smooth and sleek. He seemed as comfortable in 
the water as he was out of it.
She had seen two new sides to this man's personality today. The charming, 
laughing, teasing side and the intense lover side. Both disturbed her as did her 
reactions to him.
Anger at herself took over then. She never should have allowed the kiss to go 
on. She should have been the one to end it, not him. He must think her a 
shameless hussy to stand there and let him kiss her that way.
Melanie raised a finger to her lips-she could still feel the heat of his lips on 
hers. She hated herself for feeling bereft when he separated from her. Again she 
tried hard to picture Jim in her mind. A fuzzy image appeared only to be 
replaced by a dark countenance.
What's wrong with me?
No answer was forthcoming. More than ever she decided she needed to be with Jim 
again. The sooner she was away from Chato the better. Though he had been kind to 
her and indeed even saved her life, her emotions were in constant turmoil from 
his nearness. Yet, at the same time he fascinated her with his knowledge of the 
land and the gentle way in which he treated Little Arrow. It was all too 
confusing. She rubbed her eyes in a futile attempt to clear the confusion.
The biting cold of the water finally penetrated her numbness and she quickly 
swam for the shore. At least he couldn't call her a sissy, she thought with 
satisfaction.
Sissy was not the word that came to mind as Chato watched her climb onto the 
grassy bank of the river. He watched her take the blanket from Little Arrow's 
extended hands and wrap it around her quivering body. He knew she had been 
uncomfortably cold in the water. Whites were not used to bathing outside in a 
frigid river. Yet she had stayed there. Why? To prove something to him?
The blanket now hid her womanly curves, but the image of her wet body and her 
unique scent were ingrained upon his brain. He wondered if she had any idea the 
effect she had on males. Did she have any inkling of what he had wanted to do to 
her in the water? Her soaked garments exposed everything. The dark circles of 
her nipples had been clearly outlined pressing against the clinging wet material 
of her blouse. It had been all he could do to keep from kissing them as well as 
her lips.
She had obviously been too stunned to react to his kiss. He wondered now that 
she had time to think about it if she was angry with him. He shut his eyes 
remembering another time-remembering White Dove. That kind of hurt never left a 
man. He had to be careful not to open himself up to the same thing with Melanie.
Chapter Seven
Captain Simms raked his hand through his silver tinged hair. "Just what are we 
supposed to tell this Mr. Colter? How do we explain his nephew's betrothed 
started a fire, then calmly sneaked out of the fort one night right beneath our 
very noses?" His fist slammed the old wooden desk with a sharp crack.
The younger man jumped in his chair at the unexpected loud noise. Sergeant Jack 
Whittacker cleared his throat.
"I still can't believe she did it. I mean why? It was a little Injun kid for 
God's sake."
"Women, there's no understanding them. Just when you think ya got 'em figured 
out, they go and do something irrational." The older man's agitation grew as he 
paced back and forth in front of his desk.
"Now I wish I had never sent that blasted telegraph message to Denver. If I 
hadn't informed anyone Miss Blake had survived the massacre, no one would be 
looking for her now-let alone the governor. Who knew she's engaged to the nephew 
of a friend of the governor?"
"Perhaps the patrol will find her this time," Jack suggested hopefully.
"Without Chato to guide them-I doubt it." Fort Benson's commanding officer 
stopped pacing and sat down dejectedly. He looked directly into the younger 
man's eyes. "You and I both know the patrol hasn't got a prayer if Chato's with 
her. He's as good a scout as they come. That's what bothers me the most about 
all this. Because of this crazy girl, I've lost the best scout I've ever had or 
will ever hope to have. No, I have no doubt this latest search party will come 
back every bit as empty-handed as the last one. Our only blessing is that with 
the weather turning sour the way it is we'll at least be spared a visit from the 
girl's fiancé or worse-from Governor Evans himself. But come Spring, when travel 
is possible again, all hell's gonna break loose if that girl is still 
missing-you mark my words."
Jack replied, "You look tired, sir, maybe you should try and get some rest."
"Tired? Tired doesn't begin to describe it. Six years of my life I've spent out 
here in this godforsaken territory. I'm sick of the hatred and the killing. I 
get orders I can't possibly comply with. They expect miracles from men who 
haven't seen their wives or girlfriends or families in years. I tell you, 
Whittacker, I'm getting too old for this. I should've let Chato return the Injun 
kid to his tribe when he first asked permission. This fort wouldn't be without 
his services now and I wouldn't have to explain to the governor of the Territory 
of Colorado, how the lone female survivor from that massacre is missing from our 
fort."
He rose from his chair then and walked briskly to the door. "Well," he said, 
turning to Sergeant Whittacker, "I can't put it off any longer. I'm going to 
have to send back a message informing the Colters of Miss Blake's disappearance. 
Let's both say a prayer I'm wrong about the patrol. For all our sakes, let's 
hope they find her before the snow comes."
Tiny flakes floated lazily down from the gray sky like miniature feathers shaken 
out of a down pillow. Snow had been a rare occurrence in Virginia and Melanie 
gazed at the white flakes in amazement. She stuck out her tongue to capture the 
small, cold crystals and heard a chuckle.
"What are you doing?" Chato inquired. She swung around to face him, a bit 
embarrassed at her impulsive reaction to the snow.
"I used to do that when I was a child. Snow was as rare as a hen's tooth where I 
come from. I always loved the way it tasted on my tongue. I guess it seems silly 
to you," she finished lamely.
"Not really." He smiled down at her then, with that rare devastating smile he 
possessed which always turned her insides to jelly. "I did the same thing when I 
was a boy. At her surprised look he stated, "I was a boy once you know."
He was teasing her, of course, but she could hardly picture this stoic, powerful 
man eating snowflakes.
He poked her in the ribs and jerked his head to the right. She followed his 
glance and caught Little Arrow with his tongue out tasting the powdery snow.
They both chuckled at the adorable sight of the little boy doing what apparently 
all children did at the first sight of snow. Sometimes it amazed her how alike 
the young of both races appeared to be. Yet they grew up to be such savages. She 
wondered what happened between childhood and adulthood to change these Indians 
into murderers of her people.
Chato interrupted her thoughts. "This snow will not last long."
"How do you know that?"
"I can tell by the sky and the size of the snowflakes. Out here, we do get a lot 
of snow when winter shows his face. A person without shelter and protection 
against the freezing cold can die out here quickly. You learn to read the sky." 
She shivered as his ominous words reminded her once again of how easily she and 
Little Arrow could have perished out here exposed to the elements.
"Isn't it awfully early for such cold and snow?" she asked.
"The snow usually holds off a bit longer but you never can tell. We have had 
early winters before."
Chato yelled something suddenly to Little Arrow and reined his horse to an 
abrupt stop. Melanie slammed up against the stiff wall of his chest by the 
unexpectedness of his actions.
"We have company."
Her eyes widened as the truth of his words took the form of a group of painted 
Indians. They emerged from every direction completely encircling the three of 
them within minutes.
The fierce-looking faces peering at them made her blood run cold as an image of 
another group of Indians streaked across her mind.
One lone rider continued toward them and Little Arrow shot forward to greet him. 
She could not understand a word they said but joy radiated from both their 
faces.
"It is his father," Chato whispered in her ear.
At these words, she felt herself relax. Wasn't this the day that she had longed 
for, ever since she'd met the young boy? Their quest to return Little Arrow to 
his family was finally over. Conflicting emotions churned within her. Deep 
relief mixed with a searing sense of loss. When the two Indians, one a tiny 
replica of the other, embraced, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. This 
was as it should be. She had made the right decision to leave the fort with this 
child.
The tall Indian left his son then, to walk his spotted pony the few remaining 
paces that separated them to stand in front of their horse.
He spoke directly to Chato in his native tongue and the scout answered him in 
the same language. The expressions on their faces and their tone of voice told 
her he was grateful for the safe return of his son.
Other Indians now gathered around Little Arrow and Melanie could sense their 
joy.
At a sign from Little Arrow's father, they all turned and rode in one direction. 
Chato also turned his horse to follow them. She could not contain her curiosity 
a moment longer.
"What did he say?"
"He asked how we came to be with his son. He told me they searched for him ever 
since their enemies stole him but could not find him. Their hopes nearly died of 
ever seeing him alive again. He is very grateful to you and me for saving his 
son's life and returning him to his people."
"Where are we going now, to their camp?"
"Yes. He has invited us to stay as long as we wish."
"But didn't you tell him we'll be leaving soon to find Jim?"
"There is time for that, Melanie. Little Arrow is the chief's grandson and one 
day he may lead his entire tribe. Tall Bear wants us to meet his father, Chief 
Lone Wolf, so he can thank us for the return of his grandson."
"My goodness," she exclaimed. "I had no idea Little Arrow was the grandson of a 
chief, did you?"
"No, he never told me, but he does have good skills and a strong body. One day 
he will become a brave warrior and lead his people well." He hesitated a moment, 
then continued. "I am afraid you will have to tell the whole story of how you 
saved him. It is the People's way, after a battle or any important event, to 
gather together and hear all the details and celebrate."
"But I don't speak their language. How will I be able to tell them? You'll have 
to tell the story."
"I will translate for you but they will want to hear the tale from you. Besides, 
I do not know all the facts about the battle when you saved him."
She sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was dredge up the memory of the 
horrible events which had taken place in order to tell these people how she had 
come to have Little Arrow. She was trying hard to forget that awful trauma. 
Although it would be nice to be near Little Arrow for a few more days, she was 
anxious to be on her way to Jim and the comforts she was used to.
"It will be fine. I will help you." Chato sought to ease her apprehension.
"I just want to get to Jim," she stated missing the look of anguish that crossed 
his face a moment before it became closed and shuttered once again. He did not 
answer her but instead stared straight ahead, his eyes following the colorful 
stream of ponies that wound their way toward the Cheyenne's winter home.
The sight of brightly colored conical-shaped tipis awed Melanie. There were more 
than she ever could have imagined and they towered above the flat landscape 
surrounding them.
Like a swarm of giant ants, people emerged from these strange looking structures 
to stare at her and Chato. Many surged forward shouting, obviously happy at the 
sight of Little Arrow, alive, and home again.
Dogs ran barking and nipping at the horses' hooves as smells of cooking fires 
filled her nostrils.
Chato tightened his hold on her, as if he sensed her uneasiness at the sight of 
so many Indians, friendly or not. She was extremely grateful for his support as 
queasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. She did not want to be here with 
these people. People who killed her kind and thought nothing of it. People who 
threw their own son out never to return because of one mistake. They were 
heartless. She wanted to be with her own kind again. Her whole world felt as if 
it had been turned upside down. Would it ever be right again, she wondered.
The women and children stared with blatant curiosity at her. She imagined having 
whites in their village was not a common occurrence.
"Why do they keep gawking at me like a chicken with two heads?"
"You are very beautiful, Melanie, and your skin, eyes, and golden-red hair color 
are completely different from what they are used to."
"But they're making me feel self-conscious. I wish they'd stop."
"A white woman in their village is quite unusual. They will get used to you in 
time."
"I'm not going to be here that long. As soon as they finish celebrating Little 
Arrow's return, we're leaving, aren't we?"
Chato steeled his face not to show any of the churned up emotions her references 
to finding Jim always caused.
"If that is what you want."
"Good," she replied. Knowing that she would not have to endure these people's 
stares and strange ways for very long made her feel a little better. She visibly 
relaxed and decided that if they thought she looked odd it was no more odd than 
they looked to her.
She noticed as they made their way toward the center of the camp that not only 
were the Indians' homes brightly colored, but they were also intricately 
decorated with feathers and what appeared to be porcupine quills and paintings.
The people all had similar shading. Dark almost bronze colored skin with big 
round, dark eyes. The hair on the men was mostly shoulder length, straight and 
black while the women had their hair plaited in one or two braids hanging down 
their backs, some reaching to their waists. She was fascinated by their dresses, 
which appeared made from animal skins and fur and were vividly adorned with 
beads and porcupine quills. Fringe brushed the bottom of their legs when they 
moved and high moccasins protected their feet.
When they had arrived at the center of the seventy or more tipis she estimated 
were camped along the river, Chato halted his horse in front of the largest 
structure. More elaborate designs adorned this tipi painted in vivid shades of 
red, blue, and yellow creating a colorful collage.
The scout jumped off the cavalry horse and reached up to carefully pull her 
down. He steadied her for a moment before releasing her completely. He bent and 
whispered in her ear. "This is the chief's lodge, Little Arrow's grandfather's."
A pang of nervousness shot though her. An awe of importance surrounded this 
particular tipi. Little Arrow sprang from his horse and ran up beside her 
slipping his hand inside hers and smiling up at her encouragingly. It seemed as 
if he knew she was ill at ease among his people.
Tall Bear spoke to Chato and his son briefly before lifting the flap that served 
as a doorway to the huge structure.
"We must wait until he prepares his father for our visit," Chato informed her. 
She was glad Chato was with her. She would hate to be completely alone with 
these strange looking people. Though Little Arrow tried to make it easier for 
her, he was only a small boy.
As seconds stretched to minutes, tension knotted Melanie's stomach. It seemed an 
eternity before Little Arrow's father ushered them in.
A small fire burning in the center illuminated the interior of the large 
structure casting long shadows onto the walls. The strong odor of cooked meat 
filled the air. She glanced around surprised by the amount of things this room 
contained. Somehow she had expected a barren, sparse looking area but, in 
contrast, the wide circular space inside the tipi actually appeared cluttered.
Little Arrow ran forward and embraced the old Indian who sat cross-legged to the 
right of the fire. His wrinkled face and white hair proved his age but his body 
appeared almost as lean and well-muscled as the younger man who was his son.
He spoke words of obvious joy to his grandson then turned his keen eyes on 
Melanie.
She stood immobilized as though impaled by the dark orbs of this Cheyenne Chief. 
His words were directed at her.
"He says do not be afraid, white woman. No one will harm you here. He wishes you 
to come closer to him," Chato added, giving her a gentle push.
Melanie's heart hammered in her chest as she hesitatingly stepped nearer to the 
Indian chief.
The old man's eyes never left her face and his intense scrutiny caused her 
cheeks to suffuse with color. Between the heat of her skin and the warmth of the 
fire she felt dizzy. Why did he stare so intently at her as though searching for 
something in her features?
Finally, to her great relief, he broke the tense silence. This time Little Arrow 
translated his words for her.
"My grandfather say you very brave to do what you did. He is most-"
"Grateful," Chato supplied.
"Grateful for the gift of the life of his grandson. You and Chato stay as long 
as you wish. If there is anything you want, ask."
She released her breath and said, "Little Arrow, please tell your grandfather 
it's very kind of him to offer me this, but in a few days I must return to my 
own people."
Little Arrow translated her words to his grandfather and he nodded. Then Chato 
stepped forward to speak with the elder Cheyenne leader.
She stepped to one side to allow them to freely converse. She wondered if he 
knew of Chato's disgrace. She hoped these Indians would not still hold that 
against him. If it had not been for him, they most likely would not have their 
child back.
Frustrated because she could not tell what was being said, Melanie used the time 
to study her surroundings. Two sides were almost completely covered with what 
appeared to be weapons; all sizes and shapes of bows, hatchets and arrows 
glittered eerily in the glow of the firelight. She shivered at the thought of 
what they might be used for. Did they actually scalp people with those gruesome 
looking knives as she had heard back in Virginia? Thank God nothing resembled 
scalps in this room, anyway.
The flap of the tipi opened, revealing a strikingly beautiful Indian maiden who 
looked to be about her own age. She obviously had been summoned because Chief 
Lone Wolf spoke immediately to her.
Little Arrow introduced the woman to Melanie saying her name was Snow Blossom 
and she was his aunt. He said she would show her where to stay. Melanie 
swallowed a lump of apprehension at having to leave the security of Chato and 
Little Arrow but knew she had no choice. The woman appeared kind, even smiling 
at her, so Melanie followed her out of the old Indian's home.
The girl led her passed several tipis and then stopped in front of a much 
smaller one. She indicated she should follow her inside. Once there, Melanie was 
not surprised to find a similar version of the Chief's lodge. Instead of weapons 
on the walls, however, cooking utensils and wooden bowls of various sizes 
decorated the sides.
A fire warmed the room, its smoke trailing to the ceiling and out a narrow hole 
in the center.
Snow Blossom spoke to her and pointed to a tiny pile, which on closer inspection 
turned out to be Indian clothing and moccasins.
"Are these for me?" she asked picking up a doeskin dress. It felt butter-soft to 
the touch and was the color of cream. Melanie ran her fingers over the eagle 
feathers and bright red and blue beads that adorned it. She noted the sleeves 
and hem sported fringe just like all the other women wore.
Snow Blossom nodded and smiled encouragement when Melanie, not able to resist, 
held the dress against her to see how it would fit. It appeared to be a 
reasonable size for her and she assumed it must belong to Snow Blossom.
She smiled her thanks at the Indian girl knowing she would not understand the 
words. She picked up the moccasins and ran her fingers down along one side to 
find them equally as soft and intricately decorated as the dress.
Melanie glanced down at the worn out dress she had been forced to wear for 
weeks. It had tears in several places and was badly faded. It would be a 
pleasure to put on the Indian garments. They looked so clean and fresh.
Snow Blossom indicated Melanie should put on the clothes. Melanie could hardly 
believe the girl's sensitivity in leaving her to undress in privacy.
As soon as the flap closed, Melanie quickly stripped off her ragged dress and 
donned the new supple clothing. It fit almost perfectly and the comfortable feel 
of the soft deerskin against her bare skin was surprisingly pleasing. The fringe 
tickled her knees as she turned this way and that trying to get used to the 
different feel of the garment.
She slipped on the fringed moccasins and found they too felt at the same time 
strange but comfortable. A hair too big, they took a little longer for Melanie 
to get used to than the dress.
Snow Blossom returned shortly calling out before she entered the tipi carrying a 
steaming bowl. She set it down to gaze at Melanie. Snow Blossom nodded and 
gestured that she looked beautiful in her dress. Being a little fuller across 
the chest than Snow Blossom caused the doeskin to stretch slightly, pressing 
tightly against her breasts. Melanie looked down and found the dress ended 
higher on her legs than the dress Snow Blossom wore. Portions of her calves were 
revealed between the hem of the dress and the top of the moccasins.
Snow Blossom indicated the bowl of food she brought for her.
"Eat, Melanie. You must be very hungry."
Melanie understood only her name but knew the Indian girl told her she should 
eat. The rich, spicy aroma beckoned to her and as Snow Blossom left once again, 
she plopped down on the hard earth floor and tentatively tasted what the girl 
had brought. It appeared to be some sort of stew with large chunks of meat, wild 
onions, and other vegetables Melanie did not recognize. She found, though, that 
it was quite tasty and all of a sudden she felt ravishingly hungry. A container 
of water stood next to the food and she thirstily drank it down.
With her hunger and thirst dissipated, Melanie rose and stepped to the doorway. 
She lifted the flap slightly and peered out.
The snow had stopped, as Chato had predicted, but the air still felt frigid in 
contrast to the warmth inside the tipi. She glanced around at the other lodges. 
Some Indians wandered about but the scene was mostly quiet as dusk settled over 
the Cheyenne encampment. She assumed, like her, most of the people were probably 
eating their evening meal. There was no sight of Little Arrow, Chato, or Snow 
Blossom.
She dropped the flap and went back inside her new temporary home. For the first 
time she noticed a bundle of furs set in the corner. She reached out her hand to 
touch them and encountered a thick softness. They definitely would provide 
warmth and cushioning from the hard ground. She decided they must be used to 
sleep on because there was no bed, as Melanie knew one, anywhere in this room. 
She smiled to herself then. Had she really expected these savages to have a 
white man's mattress and pillow in here? She giggled at the thought of these 
rugged looking people lolling about on a huge feather bed.
She wondered where Chato would sleep tonight. Little Arrow, she imagined, would 
reside with his father. Again a feeling of accomplishment washed over her. She 
had done it. She had succeeded in what she set out to do-she had returned the 
little boy to his family.
With this thought buoying up her spirits, she laid down on the pile of lush 
furs, thoroughly exhausted. The severe mental and physical strain of the weeks 
following the attack on the wagon train finally caught up with her. She closed 
her eyes and fell almost immediately into the deepest sleep she had in a very 
long time.
Chapter Eight
Melanie awoke with a start. A stream of sunlight spilled down through the fire 
hole. Her ears picked up sounds of activity outside, the distant barking of a 
dog, and the voices of several children. For a few seconds she was disoriented, 
but memory of where she was came rushing back instantly when a voice called out 
from the other side of the flap on her tipi.
"Melanie, you awake?"
At Little Arrow's question, she rose quickly and strode toward the entrance. She 
opened the flap to find him staring up at her anxiously.
"It late. I thought maybe you sick."
"I'm sorry, Little Arrow. I didn't mean to worry you. I guess I was really 
tired," she explained stretching.
Over his head she could see everyone was already busy, occupied with various 
chores. Children ran to and fro under the watchful eye of the women.
She felt a little guilty for having slept so late.
"Come, I show you where to wash."
She followed Little Arrow out of the tipi noting while it was a bright sunny 
day, the air still felt nippy. She remembered how Chato had said the snow would 
not last yesterday. It irritated her how he always seemed right about 
everything.
"Where's Chato staying?"
"He has own lodge on other side of grandfather," he explained. "I show it to 
you."
As the two strode on, people stopped what they were doing to stare at the sight 
of the white woman with red-gold hair walking hand in hand with their chief's 
only grandson.
Melanie felt the heat rise to her face once again. She hated being gawked at in 
this manner. They made her feel like she was a freak or something.
It turned out to be unnecessary for Little Arrow to point out which structure 
belonged to the Indian scout because just as they passed by it, Chato emerged. 
He stopped short at the arresting sight Melanie made in her new outfit. His eyes 
strayed to the expanse of leg bared by the short length of the dress. He also 
noted how the soft skin of the dress molded to her every curve highlighting her 
full breasts, tiny waist, and gently rounded buttocks. Her long golden curls 
falling almost to her waist completed the picture. She was without a doubt the 
most exquisite woman he had ever seen. Her beauty was flawless.
"I take Melanie to river to bathe," Little Arrow informed him.
Chato almost groaned out loud as a sudden image of how she would look, naked 
bathing in the river, streaked across his mind.
With a great effort, he forced his thoughts onto something else. "Did you sleep 
well?"
She nodded. "Did I ever. If Little Arrow hadn't come to get me I'd probably 
still be sleeping." She stared at the sky thoughtfully. "It seems you were right 
about the snow. It's all gone." When he made no comment she asked, "Are you 
coming with us to the river?"
"Not right away."
She and the little boy turned and continued on their way. She asked Little Arrow 
questions about Snow Blossom and he told her his aunt was unmarried but many 
braves wanted to court her. It did not surprise her to hear this because the 
Indian maiden appeared to have a pleasing disposition and possessed a rare 
beauty. She briefly wondered if Chato might be attracted to Snow Blossom too.
She was glad Little Arrow had someone kind to look after him since he had no 
real mother of his own to love and care for him. It would make it much easier 
for her to leave knowing he would be well cared for by a loving person such as 
Snow Blossom.
When they reached the river she noticed several women busily washing clothes. As 
soon as they spotted her they again ceased what they were doing to stare at her.
Snow Blossom immediately disengaged herself from the crowd of women and came 
forward greeting Melanie in her Cheyenne tongue. Melanie said hello in English 
to the only female she knew in this group, not sure what else to do. Obviously 
these women had already bathed and were doing their daily chores.
Little Arrow said good-bye to her and darted away to join the other little boys 
further up the river.
Melanie knelt down by the side of the river and splashed some cold water onto 
her face. She knew before she and Chato left she would have to completely bathe 
in this frigid river but she wasn't quite up to it today.
Gradually, the other women appeared to grow accustomed to her presence and they 
returned to washing their clothes. Thank goodness she was no longer the center 
of their attention. She decided that it was now her turn to observe them. She 
sat fascinated by the Indian women as they scrubbed the garments with sand from 
the shore of the river. They chatted and smiled amicably with each other as they 
labored causing Melanie to speculate on their conversation. Was it the same 
ordinary girl talk that took place between the women of her own race in similar 
situations?
Snow Blossom smiled every so often at her and she was thankful for the young 
woman's kindness toward her. The Indian maiden's thoughtfulness helped her feel 
a little less conspicuous among these copper skinned women.
Never able to sit idle for very long and feeling silly just sitting there while 
all the others worked so diligently, she tentatively picked up a garment from 
Snow Blossom's unwashed pile. It appeared to be a man's buckskin shirt, fringed 
all the way down both sleeves. Light tan in color, it had the same supple 
softness as the dress she wore. It felt strange to the touch after the cotton 
and wool garments she was accustomed to wearing. Melanie supposed it belonged to 
Tall Bear as Little Arrow had told her last night that Snow Blossom was his 
father's sister. Snow Blossom nodded her head in apparent approval of her 
actions.
Once when she looked up from her work, she spied Chato standing at a distance 
watching her. Her heart skipped a beat causing a breathless sensation in her 
throat and she silently chastised herself for these strange reactions her body 
had to this man's presence. She waved nonchalantly and he returned her greeting 
before moving on to another location along the river. When she turned back to 
face Snow Blossom, she found the young woman following Chato with her eyes. An 
unbidden feeling of jealousy jerked through her even though she knew it was 
silly. Chato was nothing to her, only a man who had helped her. She had Jim 
waiting for her. Why should she care if another woman was attracted to him?
She stamped down these jealous rumblings and continued washing the clothes. Snow 
Blossom pointed to the dress she held and pronounced its Indian name. To be 
polite, Melanie repeated the Cheyenne word. She did not intend to be here long 
enough to need to know how to speak and understand Cheyenne, but she would not 
risk hurting this sweet woman's feelings by showing indifference to her native 
tongue.
Snow Blossom indicated the shirt Melanie was washing and told her the Indian 
word for it. She repeated it and Snow Blossom smiled and clapped her hands as if 
Melanie had accomplished some great feat. It obviously pleased her very much 
that she was learning some words in her language.
Making a game of it, Melanie began pointing to objects and giving Snow Blossom 
the names in English. A few of her mispronunciations made Melanie laugh but for 
the most part the girl appeared almost as astute as Little Arrow had been at 
picking up her language.
No one could ever call these people stupid in Melanie's eyes. They were 
certainly more adept at learning another language than she was. The Indian words 
she repeated after Snow Blossom bore little resemblance to how the Indian girl 
pronounced them.
At least it helped take her mind off the dreaded celebration tonight where she 
knew she would have to relate the awful details of her finding Little Arrow in 
the first place. She did not look forward to that ordeal at all.
The steady beating of the drums reverberated through the crisp night air. The 
moon bathed the village in an iridescent shade of silver, which for Melanie gave 
the whole scene a dreamy unnatural quality. She had never experienced anything 
even close to this before. It was as if the earth itself had taken on a 
heartbeat and pulse of its very own. The air seemed suddenly alive.
Melanie thought back to how little time she had ever spent outdoors after dark. 
In Charlottesville, the women had always stayed inside with their womanly duties 
while the men cavorted outside smoking their cigars and discussing the war. 
Melanie often envied the men their freedom to come and go as they pleased while 
she always had to stay where proper young ladies were supposed to stay. She 
recalled the shocked expression on her mother's face the night she told her ma 
she thought it wasn't fair the way boys and men had all the fun in life. Well, 
here she was out in the dark without a gentleman escort, but fun was the last 
thing she was going to experience this night.
She paced back and forth, her nerves taut and stretched to the breaking point. 
She did not want to do this. It might be the Indian's custom to relate verbally 
to the whole gathered tribe every gory detail of an important event but she 
wanted no part of it.
Any minute Snow Blossom would arrive to escort her to the center of their 
encampment where a large fire already burned, brightening the dark endless sky. 
She saw people arriving from all directions. Her only consolation was that 
perhaps tomorrow she and Chato could depart and begin their search for Jim. Then 
her life might actually return to normal again and moments like this one would 
become only a vague memory, which would eventually fade into obscurity.
So deep was she in thought she did not even hear the approaching footsteps. When 
she felt someone touch her left arm she jumped and screamed. It was only Snow 
Blossom. She blushed with embarrassment.
The Indian girl spouted off what sounded like an apology for having frightened 
her.
"It's not your fault, Snow Blossom. It's me. I was so lost in thought I didn't 
hear you arrive. I'm just jumpy tonight," she added, trying to smile 
reassuringly at the young woman. "We'd better go." She knew she could not put 
off the inevitable any longer.
They strolled toward the huge fire that lit up the center of the camp like 
daylight. In a daze, Melanie allowed Snow Blossom to lead her to a place up 
front not far from where her father, Chief Lone Wolf, sat flanked by his son on 
one side and his grandson on the other.
Melanie searched the crowd with her eyes, but the face she sought could not be 
found anywhere. Where was he? Where was Chato? A sudden, strong need for the 
scout enveloped her and a sense of panic took hold of her when she was unable to 
locate him. She did not like this intense dependency she'd developed for Chato 
but she could not deny its existence.
The two women sat down crossing their legs in the same manner as everyone else. 
The incessant beats of the drum kept time with the pounding in Melanie's head as 
she felt the beginnings of a massive headache build inside her skull. She wished 
this was only a bad dream but knew it was all too real.
Snow Blossom suddenly sat up straighter and Melanie followed the direction of 
her gaze. Chato. Snow Blossom had spotted Chato and intently watched him as he 
wove his way through the mass of Indians.
Melanie sucked in her breath. In the silver light he looked magnificent. He was 
dressed like all the other men. A beaded headband wrapped around his coal-black 
hair with a lone eagle feather attached to the back. The buckskin breeches, 
fringed along both legs, hugged his thighs like a second skin outlining his rock 
hard muscles. His shirt, open at the neck, revealed his bronze chest. On his 
feet he wore the typical moccasins that reached almost to his knees. To Melanie 
he looked as raw and untamed as all the other Indian men but infinitely more 
handsome. His towering height caused him to stand out above the rest. From the 
look on Snow Blossom's face, Melanie knew his devastating maleness was not lost 
on her either.
Though angry with herself, she had to admit she felt a little better about this 
ordeal now that he was here. All of a sudden the drums ceased and Chief Lone 
Wolf stood up. Melanie was astonished at how quiet everyone became. The old 
chief began talking to his people and she sat there in awe of how much respect 
this man obviously commanded.
Little Arrow joined him after awhile and also spoke to the crowd. She almost 
forgot she too would be expected to address these people, when Little Arrow 
abruptly ended his speech and walked over to her, grabbing hold of her hand.
Shakily she stood up wishing with all her heart the earth would open and swallow 
her up. As she looked out over the sea of faces, all eyes trained on her, she 
thought she might actually faint.
"Melanie, just tell them how you were traveling from a far away place with many 
wagons and how you were attacked by a band of Utes."
She turned in the direction of the deep male voice, surprised to find Chato 
standing directly behind her. She smiled her gratitude for his help, cleared her 
voice and shakily began the sad story of how she had come to be with Little 
Arrow.
Chato translated her every word in a loud clear voice. Every so often she felt 
him squeeze her waist ever so slightly with the arm that held her for moral 
support. She knew she never would be able to get through the painful telling of 
that awful day without him.
Finally, her eyes filling with tears, her tale ended. She slowly walked from the 
center of these Indians back toward her tipi. Chato never left her side. She 
thought she detected a slightly different attitude toward her from these people. 
Besides their plain curiosity there was something else in their eyes now.
At this very moment, however, she was too emotionally drained to really care.
As they left the main throng of people, Melanie heard the drums in the distance 
start up in earnest once again. She turned to see several people get up and 
begin dancing. She guessed now that the stories had been told the real 
celebration would begin.
"Do you think Little Arrow will be upset if I don't stay for the rest of the 
celebration?" Although she wasn't in any mood to celebrate, she did not wish to 
hurt Little Arrow.
"He will understand. It was a difficult thing you did. I believe Little Arrow 
knows that."
"I hope so. I realize these are his people and this is important to him but I 
feel so out of place here," she stated.
"I know."
She looked up at the moon which no longer shined as brightly as it had earlier. 
Clouds floated past it one after another sometimes obscuring it completely from 
view for a few moments.
"Chato, just because I don't want to join the celebration doesn't mean you have 
to miss it. I'm all right. Really. You don't have to stay with me."
"Maybe I want to."
She looked at him surprised he preferred to stay with her rather than celebrate 
with the other Indians. She felt compelled to ask, "How does it feel to be back 
among your own kind?" She watched his face closely for a reaction to her 
question. It was difficult to see his features clearly with the clouds 
continually covering the moon.
"I have been away a long time and thought I no longer missed the ways of my 
people. But I find there is a certain sense of fitting in I have not experienced 
for awhile."
"Then does that mean this tribe will accept you? They won't make you leave like 
all the others did, will they?" She could not keep the hope out of her voice.
He smiled, touched by her concern for him. If only it could be more than mere 
concern for another person she felt for him. "Chief Lone Wolf says in his 
people's eyes I have made up for my past mistake. If I want to make this my 
permanent home, they will welcome me. They also..."
"That's wonderful," she interrupted. "I'm so happy for you."
He continued. "They have also extended the same invitation to you. You could 
make this your home too."
He carefully watched her face for a reaction to his words.
"How can I stay here? You know I have a fiancé waiting near Denver for me. 
Besides, these are not my people. I'm white. They're savages. Why would I want 
to stay here?"
Her words cut like a knife shattering his hopes into tiny shards of glass. What 
had he expected her to say? White people always thought of his kind as savages. 
Why had he ever thought she was different? He must be the biggest fool that ever 
lived. Because she had saved Little Arrow and had been kind to him, he somehow 
had expected her to think differently about Indians. Well, he wouldn't make that 
mistake ever again. She was washichu and he vowed to never forget that fact 
again.
"I will join the celebration after all." His tone of voice sounded brittle as he 
abruptly left her standing there. She wondered at his sudden change of heart.
When he reached the circle of dancers, Chato was still reeling from her harsh 
words. His fists balled at his sides, his breathing came fast and heavy as he 
fought hard to get his emotions back under control. He told himself he did not 
need her. There were many beautiful maidens here. With a supreme effort he 
entered the circle of jumping, swaying bodies and joined in.
Chato forced himself to concentrate on the women around him who vied for his 
attention. Snow Blossom approached him and he returned her smile, flattered by 
her apparent interest in him. Perhaps if he worked hard enough at it, he could 
forget a pair of clear green eyes.
Melanie opened the flap of her tipi, stepped outside and stood there a minute. 
Sleep eluded her this night. Was it the sounds of the Indians' revelry off in 
the distance, or something else that caused this restlessness?
After Chato left so abruptly, it dawned on her she'd gone and done it again. 
She'd hurt his feelings by calling his people savages. She had been 
unnecessarily cruel in her choice of words and reasons for not wanting to stay 
here. Somehow, she always seemed to say the wrong thing around him.
Guilt made her walk in the direction of the merriment knowing she'd never get 
any sleep tonight if she did not apologize to Chato. She might as well go ahead 
and seek him out and try to make amends.
When she reached the main area of celebration she did not immediately see Chato. 
How was she ever going to find him among this great horde of Indians? A strong 
arm startled her when it reached out and began pulling her toward the multitude 
of dancers. Her protests were completely ignored by the dark, strange Indian who 
smiled at her and spoke persuasively in his native tongue. She really did not 
feel like dancing but this young man appeared unwilling to take no for an 
answer. He was not being rough, and he seemed nice, but she was in no mood for 
dancing. All she wanted to do was find Chato, apologize, and get some sleep 
tonight.
Before she knew it, though, she found herself swept up in the middle of the 
gyrating bodies with little choice but to attempt to imitate their unusual 
moves. This sure was different than the Virginia Reel.
Their blatant sexuality as they completely threw themselves into the erotic 
motions of the dance unnerved her but she found herself caught up in the spirit 
of the moment. The warmth of pressed bodies and the heady scent of smoke closed 
in around her.
As she spun around to the left she almost collided with someone. She recognized 
Snow Blossom. Taken back, she stared at the Indian girl laughing and smiling up 
adoringly at Chato who appeared to be having a wonderful time. So much for her 
idea he was upset by her earlier words.
The fact he had obviously forgotten all about her and appeared to be enjoying 
himself with the beautiful Indian girl stung. She knew she had no right to feel 
hurt by his actions but she still did. Well, since he was having such a good 
time and evidently didn't care in the least if she thought he was a savage, then 
she was determined to enjoy herself too.
She turned her full attention now to the Indian brave who acted highly attracted 
to her. She smiled up at him as she danced a little closer to him. He beamed at 
her changed attitude toward him and began showing off with intricate dance 
moves.
Chato did not miss any of this as a rage built deep inside of him. She hadn't 
wanted to stay here with him before but as soon as his back was turned she shows 
up dancing with this peacock. The young fool strutted like a rooster trying to 
impress Melanie. And she appeared to actually like it. He allowed none of his 
anguish to show on his face but instead, forced his attention back to Snow 
Blossom. Two could play her game.
Melanie rubbed her eyes. This could not be happening. It was snowing! Not only 
were the tiny flakes swirling down from the gray sky at a rapid speed, but 
already the ground was covered by several inches of the white stuff. The wind 
whipped at her face and she had to tighten the blanket around her shoulders to 
keep out the biting sting of the furious gusts. She slowly and meticulously 
inched her way toward Chato's lodge. They were supposed to leave this morning.
"Chato," she yelled out when she finally arrived at his door. Her breath came 
out like a whiff of steam from a boiling teapot. "Chato," she screamed louder 
this time as the wind tore the softer word away before he could hear it.
The flap opened then revealing the Sioux Indian scout. "Melanie. What are you 
doing here?"
"How're we going to leave with this snow? Is it going to stop soon?"
He walked out past her and peered up into the slate-colored sky for several 
seconds.
"Come in." His tone of voice did not sound encouraging.
She stepped into the inviting warmth of his tipi as he followed her in and 
closed the flap, sealing in the warm air.
"I am afraid this is going to continue for some time."
"How much time?"
"Looks like it could be a bad blizzard-maybe a few days."
"A blizzard? What about getting out of here? What about your promise to take me 
to find Jim?"
Her tone annoyed him.
"What do you expect me to do, Melanie? Get us both killed in the middle of a 
snowstorm just because you cannot stand to stay awhile longer with us savages?"
His angry words hit her like a bucket of cold water. The worst part was she knew 
he was right. It wouldn't be safe to travel in weather like this. Even she knew 
that. As anxious as she might be to leave, she didn't want to die now after all 
she had been through.
She also realized she definitely still had to apologize to him for her comment 
about savages. Contrary to the way it appeared last night, her cruel remark had 
definitely bothered him.
"I'm sorry I called your people savages last night," she blurted out. "I 
shouldn't have said that. It's just, I don't belong here, that's all."
"I have been called worse."
He still sounded angry but she decided to drop the subject, at least for now. In 
fairness to herself she really didn't know what these people were like. Perhaps 
they truly were savages. Even though it had been a different tribe, look at what 
Indians had done to the wagon train. She did not wish to hurt Chato, however, so 
she tactfully changed the subject. "What do we do if the weather doesn't get any 
better? What if winter is already here to stay?"
"You will just have to put up with us for a few moons. Sorry."
She could hardly believe he said that. She'd been hoping for some sort of 
reassurance from him that would not happen. Instead, he confirmed her worst 
fear-that she might actually have to spend the entire winter here with these 
Cheyenne Indians!
Chapter Nine
Jim Colter stood in his Uncle Bob's study staring outside as the snow piled up 
deeper with each passing minute. The ranch took on a serene visage each time 
snow blanketed the area. Gone were the rundown, dirty looking roofs and walls of 
the barns and other buildings that made up the Triple C Ranch. Everything looked 
pristine and new.
At the sound of his Aunt Jane's voice calling to him, he turned from the window 
and walked to the door of the study opening it.
Aunt Jane, hands on hips, a smile on her lips, said, "There you are. Supper's 
just about ready. Are you hungry?"
"Not really. Is Uncle Bob back yet?"
"Yes, he rode in about half an hour ago. He's changing into dry clothes and then 
he'll speak with you."
The pleasantly plump woman with warm brown eyes touched Jim's arm.
"I know you've been waiting almost a month now for word from Governor Evans but 
I'm sure Melanie's all right. Eventually she'll be found. This weather is only a 
temporary set back."
Jim shrugged off his aunt's hand from his arm. "I know you're trying to make me 
feel better, Aunt Jane, but this whole damn situation is so frustrating. A whole 
army fort full of soldiers and Melanie's missing! It's beyond belief. No wonder 
the savages still run around free if these are examples of the kind of men they 
have in charge of the army forts. I'll see someone pays for this, you can count 
on that." Jim screamed the last words so loud the walls shook. He still ranted 
as he followed her into the dining room and took his place at the table.
Jane sat down at the long, narrow table. Jim remained standing. Silence hung 
heavy over the room, broken only be the muted clanging of pots and pans as food 
was prepared in the kitchen. Both Aunt Jane and Jim were lost in their own 
thoughts about Melanie's possible whereabouts.
After a few minutes, Bob Colter entered the dining room, and Jane took the 
opportunity to withdraw into the kitchen to help Lucinda serve the evening meal.
The two men shook hands and then seated themselves at opposite ends of the 
sturdy wooden table.
Robert stared at his nephew thoughtfully, then sighed. "You can probably guess 
what the telegram said."
"Are they giving up? Using the snow as an excuse?" the younger man angrily 
accused.
"Be reasonable, Jim. You know as well as I do they'd never be able to find her 
in this storm."
"I suppose so, but it frustrates the hell out of me knowing nothing more is 
being done to locate her. I still don't believe she left that fort on her own. 
My sweet Melanie would never do something like that! She must have been 
kidnapped by those red devils and taken to one of their villages. God only knows 
what they're doing to her." He jumped up and banged the table with his fist 
shaking the dishes.
"Try to calm down, son," Bob advised his nephew. "The governor has sent a 
message requesting more troops be brought into the territory to control these 
Indians. Perhaps if he gets them and we get a break in the weather, they'll be 
able to try once more to locate Melanie before winter truly sets in for good."
Jim sat back down as the young Mexican girl entered the dining room carrying a 
large tray of roast chicken fragrant with the scent of sage stuffing. Jim's eyes 
strayed as always to her voluminous breasts that shook up and down with each 
step she took. He had hoped to get something going with this girl just like with 
the last one. But, so far, Lucinda rebuffed each advance he made toward her. 
Since she had only been employed a little more than two weeks, maybe she simply 
needed a bit more time to get used to the idea. He hoped she wouldn't take too 
long, though, because in the winter it was difficult to get into the city and 
visit his favorite ladies of the evening. A man could only go celibate for so 
long. And it looked like his honeymoon night was a long way off. Hell, even 
married men needed their diversions now and then.
Jane arrived at the table with a basket full of piping hot sourdough biscuits 
dripping with homemade sweet butter and fresh honey. She bowed her head as 
always and said grace. Then with a curt nod, she indicated they should eat.
Jim, not particularly hungry tonight, mechanically chewed and swallowed his 
food. His mind was on Melanie. The image of her beautiful face with those 
striking green eyes was as clear as if he had seen her yesterday. He knew now he 
should have insisted she marry him and come with him two years ago. None of this 
mess would have ever happened if he had made her accompany him.
Melanie would make an ideal wife for him. A good-looking woman on his arm would 
be a definite asset. Someday, when his aunt and uncle passed away, he would own 
this ranch. He could hardly wait.
Uncle Bob's voice cut into his daydreams. "There was another killing by those 
redskins up near Plum Creek. Denver was buzzing with the news today."
"These savages are really getting out of hand. The army had better do something 
about them soon or the people will have to take matters into their own hands," 
Jim responded, stabbing at a piece of chicken.
"Please, must we talk about killings and Indians at the table when we're 
eating?" Jane gently admonished.
"Sorry, dear. But the situation is completely out of control. People are afraid 
to send supplies out here because of the Indian attacks and things are becoming 
scarce. Do you know that at Tom's General Store the price of flour is all the 
way up to forty-five dollars a sack? Can you believe it?"
"Oh, my," Aunt Jane exclaimed.
"The only bright spot right now is the weather. Even savages have to find ways 
to keep warm and survive. They won't have any time for killing if the weather 
stays bad."
At his uncle's reference to the cold and stormy conditions outside, Jim became 
even more depressed. He hoped wherever Melanie was she was safe and warm. He 
would not allow himself even the thought that she might be with any of those 
savages. He could not bear to imagine one of those animals laying a hand on her. 
There had to be another explanation for her disappearance.
He stood up and excused himself from the table, his supper only half eaten. 
Right now whiskey was the only relief from his torturous speculations about 
Melanie and he intended to get some and drink himself into oblivion.
When he was out of sight, Jane shook her head and said to her husband, "I wish 
there was something I could do to ease his mind. He worries me."
"I know what you mean," he replied.
"I do hope when that girl finally gets here she will help Jim's disposition. 
He's never been exactly pleasant, but lately he's downright rude."
Bob nodded his head.
"I know what you mean. Let's just hope that girl gets here. Jane sucked in her 
breath.
"Are you saying you think Melanie's dead?"
"I'm saying, dear, who knows? When Spring comes, I'm afraid, we will all know 
Melanie's fate, for better or worse."
Chapter Ten
One full month had passed!
Melanie could hardly believe it. Snow still covered the ground but at least no 
new snow had fallen. Never having witnessed a blizzard before, the fierce winds 
and swirling blinding snow had made a lasting impression on her. She'd seen more 
snow on the ground in those three days than in three whole years back in 
Charlottesville. She decided nature could be beautiful but also deadly. She 
doubted anyone could survive a storm like that if they were caught unprotected 
out on the prairie. She shivered at the thought.
Melanie dropped the flap on her tipi, turned and sat down on the soft buffalo 
robe that served as her bed. Absently fingering the plush fur she allowed her 
thoughts to occupy her while she waited for Snow Blossom.
Although not pleased about being trapped here for the winter, she tried hard to 
make the best of it and even to look on the bright side. She got to spend time 
with Little Arrow every day and at least this made her very happy.
She reviewed the things Snow Blossom had taught her. Reaching over, she picked 
up a basket she had woven herself. Who would have ever thought, she, Melanie 
Blake, would spend time weaving a basket? And be proud of it! She also took 
pride in the fact that she could now understand some of Snow Blossom's Cheyenne 
words and the Indian girl could speak some English words.
Her thoughts switched to Chato. She had watched him ride out with the other 
warriors several times thinking how well he fit here. He appeared content among 
these people and she was happy for him. He seemed a completely different man 
back with his own kind.
Melanie smiled to herself when her wandering thoughts turned to her daily 
routine in this Indian village. Every morning Snow Blossom called her and 
together they walked to the place on the river where the women bathed. It never 
ceased to amaze her how these Indian women stripped naked and plunged into the 
icy river without blinking an eye. She thought it sheer torture to dip into the 
frigid water but to be clean she had no choice. So, most mornings she braved it 
only occasionally balking. At times, when she stood shivering in the icy river, 
the memory of Chato's kiss had returned making her cheeks burn despite the 
frigid temperature of the air and water.
As Chato had predicted, the Indians had grown accustomed to her because they no 
longer gaped at her like she had two heads. She smiled again. Come to think of 
it, she didn't gape at them either. She had to admit. The Indians treated her 
well. Even Chato had become bearable.
She stood up and poked her head out the flap of her tipi. The air smelled crisp 
and clean. She spotted Snow Blossom heading toward her so she stepped out to 
greet her.
"Hello, Snow Blossom, how are you this morning?" she said in near perfect 
Cheyenne.
Snow Blossom smiled, obviously pleased at Melanie's attempt to learn her 
language.
In perfect English she answered, "I am fine. How are you?"
They both laughed in unison, then started for the river.
"We must hurry today," Snow Blossom informed her.
"Why?"
"We must help with big…" the girl's voice trailed off. "Big what?"
She watched Snow Blossom get down on her hands and knees, crawl, then grab her 
chest and feign death. Melanie giggled at the funny sight finally figuring out 
what she was trying to say.
"Hunt buffalo. Do you mean a big hunt for buffalo?"
"Yes."
Why would the women be involved with hunting animals? It seemed to her it should 
be men's work, but nevertheless, she washed quickly and accompanied Snow Blossom 
and the rest of the women to the center of the camp.
She stopped short at the sight of most of the men, including Chato, mounted on 
ponies holding an array of lances, bow and arrows, knives, guns, and other 
weapons. Although not quite sure she wanted to do this, her curiosity was 
piqued. She quickly joined the other women as they followed after the men. If 
nothing else, she decided it would break the monotony and might even prove 
interesting.
As soon as the buffalo were sighted things moved so fast Melanie could hardly 
believe it. The rumble made by the hooves of these giant beasts roared in her 
ears. Like thunder, the earth actually trembled beneath her feet.
She stared awed by the huge, dark, squirming mass of animals. Fascinated, she 
watched as a line of warriors stood up yelling, jumping, and shouting at several 
buffalo as they charged forward. Just when she thought the men would surely be 
trampled to death right before her very eyes, the moving carpet of buffalo 
turned in the opposite direction and ran directly into the hail of bullets, 
arrows and lances another group of braves had aimed at them. Several large 
beasts fell.
No sooner had they fallen than the women ran forward with their knives. Snow 
Blossom urged Melanie to come with her as she ran up to a giant carcass, knelt 
beside it, and began skinning the hide.
Melanie's felt awkward beside the other women but she tried her best to imitate 
their deft actions. As she worked, it hit her how much she had changed. The 
sight and stench of the dead animals and all the blood did not make her nauseous 
as it always had before. In the distance she watched Chato bring a large animal 
down and experienced a sudden fear for his safety. Only when he safely rode away 
did she continue her work.
When the hunt ended every usable part of the buffalo was packed and taken back 
to the village. Melanie felt totally spent. She could not recollect ever having 
worked so hard in all her life. She examined her hands. Red and chapped from so 
much exposure to the elements, she saw several blisters from cutting with the 
knife. What would the ladies who liked to have afternoon tea back in Virginia 
say if they had seen her doing this dirty, exhausting work out here today? An 
image of their shocked faces made her giggle. She decided no one could say 
Indian women were lazy, that was for sure.
When they arrived back at the village, Melanie wanted nothing more than to lie 
down and rest. She watched in disbelief as the women immediately took the 
buffalo hides they'd cut off the animals, spread them out, and began scraping 
them clean of any remaining bits of flesh.
Feeling she had no choice, she reluctantly sat down next to Snow Blossom and 
began helping.
Chato approached the two most beautiful women in the entire tribe, in his 
opinion. He noted Melanie's strained expression and thought she appeared 
confused.
At Chato's approach, Melanie looked up into his dark eyes. "Why are we doing 
this right now? Don't these people ever rest?"
"The buffalo hides are needed for warmth. Winter has not shown his full face 
yet. It gets unbelievably cold in the heart of winter," he answered.
It always amused her when he talked about the seasons or the moon and sun as if 
they were living people. She figured it must be an Indian trait as Snow Blossom 
and Little Arrow also did the same thing.
"Is that the only reason the buffalo were killed, for the hides?"
"No, the meat is needed for food for the winter and the rest of the parts will 
be used for other things. Nothing will be wasted. Not like when the whites 
hunt."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, annoyed about the way he always found 
fault with everything her people did.
"Many white hunters come to our land and kill the buffalo. They take only the 
hides and leave the meat rotting in the sun. Someday there will not be enough 
buffalo left to feed all of my people."
"That does sound awfully wasteful," she admitted, "but perhaps they have a 
reason."
He looked disgusted at her answer but did not reply to it. Instead he said, "I 
was not sure you would be able to keep up with the women but you did a fine 
job."
Why was it, she wondered, every time this infuriating man gave her a compliment, 
it always seemed attached to a criticism? This time, she decided to ignore the 
criticism and simply accept the compliment.
"Thank you. You didn't do badly out there yourself."
He looked surprised by her compliment but also pleased. He did not respond but 
continued to watch her and Snow Blossom work.
Snow Blossom began chatting with the scout and Melanie could not keep up with 
the rapid flow of their Cheyenne words. They both smiled and laughed together 
and again she felt a pang of jealousy hit her at their easy banter. She felt 
left out and a little bit miffed at being ignored by Chato. She tried hard not 
to feel this way and grew more upset with herself by the minute because she was 
unable to gain control of these unwanted emotions. All of a sudden she felt 
sorry for herself, was sick of being here, and just felt out of sorts in 
general.
Not able to endure the situation a moment longer, she dropped the knife she had 
been using, stood up, and stalked off in the direction of her lodge without a 
word to Snow Blossom or Chato.
She did not see Chato excuse himself and start after her. As soon as she dropped 
the flap on her tipi, she threw herself face down on the pile of furs and burst 
into tears.
Chato stopped short outside her lodge at the sounds of her sobbing. Why was she 
crying? Had he done something to hurt her feelings? He didn't think so. He'd 
been greatly impressed by her stamina knowing white women were not used to the 
rigorous labors Indian women had learned to endure. He had told her he was 
impressed with her. So why was she upset?
"Melanie," he called.
"Go away."
"I am coming in," he stated a moment before he lifted the flap and stepped 
inside.
He knelt down beside the sobbing girl, hating to see her cry. Against the thick 
furs, she looked so tiny, almost like a little girl.
"What is wrong,cinstinna ?" he gently rolled her over as he spoke.
"Nothing-just leave me alone," she shouted at him.
"Something must be wrong, or else you would not cry. I am not leaving until you 
tell me what it is so you might as well answer me. What is it?" he demanded 
again.
Her sobs turned to gulps as she struggled to stop the flow of tears. The truth 
was she wasn't exactly sure herself why she cried and she hated appearing so 
weak in front of this man.
"I don't know. I'm just tired, I guess."
"It is perfectly natural to feel tired. You are not used to work like this, but 
are you sure that is all it is?"
"I don't know."
"Look, Melanie. I know this is a difficult time for you. You are not where you 
want to be. But when spring comes, I promise I will take you wherever you wish 
to go. Please, try to be patient."
His kindness only made her feel more foolish for being such a baby. What was 
wrong with her anyway? She was acting like a spoiled brat. It wasn't his fault 
they were stuck here for the winter.
Chato reached out and wiped a teardrop from her pale cheek. Her skin felt soft 
and smooth to the touch. All at once he became aware of her lithe body under the 
arm he still had draped across her. She looked so sweet and vulnerable and 
suddenly the urge to pull her to him and kiss her puffy lips overpowered him as 
her sweet scent invaded his nose.
Before she realized his intentions, she found herself crushed against his solid 
form and he kissed her as if he were a starving man eating his first meal after 
a long fast.
His lips devoured hers and little sparks of pleasure unexpectedly shot through 
her. After the initial devouring of her lips his scorching kiss became calmer 
and took on a persuasive quality. She knew she should push him away but instead 
her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers curling into his raven hair. It 
all seemed so natural as her lips moved in conjunction with his as she returned 
his kiss.
The heat of his desire was contagious as his lips left hers to trail kisses down 
her neck and shoulders. A warm ache she had never experienced before spread 
throughout her entire body ending at the apex of her legs. A soft moan escaped 
her lips before she could prevent it.
His heart sang as he realized that she was not repulsed by his touch. This gave 
him reason to be encouraged in his quest to gain her love. Her response to him 
ignited a fire in his loins and he wanted nothing more than to claim this 
beautiful girl as his own.
Unable to resist the temptation of her plump breasts a minute longer, he cupped 
one in his hand and was rewarded by another soft moan. How he wanted her. She 
was an inferno raging in his blood and all sense of reason slowly gave way to 
passionate oblivion.
Melanie could feel the proof of his arousal pressed against the side of her leg 
and in an instant, reason returned like a bolt of lightening. What was she 
doing?
"No, please, stop." She struggled to move away from him pushing at his chest.
The anguish of her plea penetrated his muddled brain. He knew he had to release 
her even though that was the very last thing he wanted to do at the moment.
He rolled away from her then and stood up all in one fluid motion. She looked so 
tempting laying there on the buffalo robes with her face flushed with desire, 
her lips swollen from his kisses, and her hair spread out around her face like a 
golden halo. He experienced embarrassment over his loss of control with this 
white girl.
What about his vow just a month ago to forget about any life with her? Hurt was 
the only thing he could expect from her. Why was he so weak where she was 
concerned?
"I am sorry. That should not have happened." Before she had a chance to reply, 
he was gone.
Like the last time he had kissed her, shame washed over her. What was she, a 
brazen hussy or something? She should be repulsed by his kisses and touch, not 
attracted to him. Yes, she had to face it, she was attracted to this Indian 
brave. She could not deny it anymore. But why? That was the puzzling question.
She had absolutely no idea why, when she loved Jim, that she could have such 
strong feelings for another man-an Indian at that. Although Chato often provoked 
her anger the way that no one else ever had, he also brought out emotions in her 
she had never experienced before.
Her life became more confused each day she stayed here with the Cheyenne. She 
realized even her ideas about them were changing. She sincerely liked Snow 
Blossom, she loved Little Arrow, and Chato-she was afraid to examine too closely 
her true feelings for him. These people were enemies of her race and she had 
always been told they were heathen savages with no souls. Yet with each passing 
day, she found more similarities than differences between the two races of 
people. Love for their children and even each other was very apparent. They 
cared for the land and rivers as if these things of nature were real people. 
They wasted nothing and respected each other's feelings and belongings. In all 
the time she had spent among these people, she could not honestly find one thing 
any of them had done that could even remotely be called savage.
Her thoughts switched from the Indian people as a whole to one in particular. 
Why had he kissed her? And more importantly, why had she liked it and kissed him 
back? She was afraid of examining her emotions toward Chato-afraid of 
discovering something about herself and her real feelings for Jim that she 
didn't want to know. She had made a promise to her dying mother and she intended 
to keep it.
She resolved to ignore what had happened today between her and Chato and to act 
as though it had never taken place. Yes, that was the best idea.
She lay back down on the soft, warm furs and closed her eyes sure everything 
would look clearer and less confusing after a good long sleep.
Melanie was not alone in her confusion. Chato's emotions twirled around like 
leaves on a windy fall day. Would he never learn? There would be nothing but 
heartache at the end of this trail if he continued down it. Loving any woman had 
its risks. Loving a white woman was insane. He should forget about the powerful 
attraction this girl held for him. He should concentrate on finding a woman of 
his own who could share his future with him and love him the way he needed to be 
loved. White Dove was in the past. He was sure Melanie had no place in his 
future, either.
The worst part, though, was his male instinct told him Melanie was attracted to 
him as a man. In spite of his being an Indian, all three times he had held her 
in his arms and kissed her she had not immediately pushed him away. This time 
she had actually responded to him. Passion had bubbled just below the surface. 
He had felt it. Damn! What should he do?
It would be easy to love her. He already desired her more than any other woman 
he had ever known. She was a beautiful, smart, strong, brave woman. He grew more 
impressed with her every day. She did not sit idly by expecting to be waited on 
like many frail white women did. No, not Melanie. She pitched right in with 
whatever needed doing around the camp. She never complained.
He sat down near the river feeling torn in two directions. One side told him to 
follow his heart and try to secure Melanie's love for himself. The other part 
warned him to forget what could never be. His life had been so much simpler 
before Melanie had entered it. But it had also been lonelier-definitely 
lonelier.
Deep in thought, sitting on the banks of the wide river, Chato was unaware that 
anyone watched him. He looked up, startled, when Tall Bear sat down next to him.
"If you wish to be alone, just say so," he stated.
"No, actually I could use some company."
"Have you decided if you will remain with us?" Tall Bear asked.
"I would be honored to live among your people. I wasn't happy at the fort so 
this is the best place for me now. The white girl wishes to return to her kind, 
though, so first I must help her find someone. After that I intend to come back 
here," Chato answered.
"Little Arrow will be sad to see her go. I think he has come to love this girl, 
like a mother."
Chato thought Little Arrow was not the only one who would be sorry to see 
Melanie leave, but he did not speak his thoughts out loud.
As if he could read the scout's mind, Tall Bear peered closely at him and said, 
"I do not mean to pry, but I believe my son is not the only person who will be 
sad when the time comes for the girl to leave."
"Is it that obvious?" Chato inquired taken aback at the astuteness of this 
brave.
Tall Bear tossed a stone into the river sending ripples out over the surface in 
ever widening circles.
"I'm afraid, my friend, it is in your eyes each time you look at her. If one 
looks close, he can see it. I have looked close."
"It's no use, Tall Bear. She's promised to another-aWashichu . She was on her 
way to be married when the Utes at-tacked her wagon train."
"Even so, my friend, if one looks closely at the white girl, there is also 
something in her eyes every time you are near."
Chato sat up straighter and looked directly at Little Arrow's father.
"You have seen something in Melanie's eyes?"
"Yes. I do not say she loves you yet, but I believe she has strong feelings for 
you as a man and you could perhaps turn those feelings to love if you really 
wanted to."
Although the brave's words put hope in his heart, Chato's confusion escalated. 
Just when he had made up his mind a life with Melanie was out of reach, Tall 
Bear had caused his spirits to rise again at the possibility she might actually 
come to love him one day.
"I hope I haven't overstepped my bounds in telling you these things. My 
gratitude for my son's life runs deep. You are a good man. I would like to see 
you happy. Also, selfishly, my son would love to have the girl stay. I believe 
only a deep love for you would cause her to consider that."
"I'm glad you told me these things. You're right. I do care for this girl. I 
just don't know whether it would ever be possible for us to be together. Could a 
white woman ever be truly happy living our way of life? Wouldn't she miss her 
own ways? I don't know," Chato stated.
"Love can conquer much, my friend. This particular white girl possesses many 
qualities not found in others of her kind. I do not have the answers for you. 
Only the Great Spirit and your heart can guide you."
With these words of wisdom Tall Bear rose and bid the scout good-bye. Chato's 
head buzzed with all this new information. He pondered the words of Tall Bear 
for a long time after he left knowing the months ahead would be difficult ones 
for him as he tried to sort out his future. Perhaps Melanie was meant to have a 
special place in that future-perhaps she wasn't. He decided to watch her closely 
in the time he had left with her. Hopefully her true feelings toward him would 
be revealed.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning dawned clear and sunny and Melanie awoke completely refreshed, 
with only a slight achy feeling to remind her of the exertions of the buffalo 
hunt. Her exhaustion gone, she felt ready to face the new day.
On their customary stroll to the river to wash clothes she and Snow Blossom 
encountered Black Eagle. Ever since he had drawn her into the dancing at Little 
Arrow's celebration, he had showered her with attention.
Black Eagle addressed them and as usual she found his boyish grin and charming 
manner, flattering.
"Let me carry the clothes for you, Melanie," he said as he pulled the pile of 
laundry from her arms.
Snow Blossom's eyebrows raised at this offer as she shot a conspiring glance 
toward her. Melanie shrugged her shoulders in a helpless gesture. She thought he 
was a bit pushy but not offensive. Snow Blossom's barely contained giggles told 
her this was a highly unusual offer from an Indian male. Since the first day she 
arrived, she noticed women always carried heavy objects and never had she seen 
any man attempt to carry anything for a woman in all the time she had been 
there. She suspected she was in for some heavy teasing about this from Snow 
Blossom once the flirtatious brave left.
"Thank you," was all she could think to say. His easy manner was hard to resist 
and she decided she liked this man. Why not? If she was stuck here for awhile 
she might as well try to make some friends. She eyed him furtively not wishing 
to be caught directly staring at him.
Black Eagle sported the high cheekbones of the Cheyenne, and his height, though 
several inches shorter than Chato, still towered above her own five feet, two 
inch frame. His body had that same honed muscular tone all the male members of 
this tribe, no matter what age, seemed to be born with. She honestly could not 
say she had seen one fat person among this group of people. Contrary to what she 
had always heard back east, though not all Indians looked the same.
The Indians who attacked her wagon train possessed a much smaller stature. They 
were shorter, heavier, and stouter. She much preferred the appearance of these 
taller, thinner, Indians.
When they arrived at the river, Black Eagle shocked her further by sitting down 
next to them. Melanie sensed the curious glances coming their way from the 
assembled women already busily washing their clothes. She felt her face redden 
at the unwanted attention she once again drew from these women. Just when she 
had finally begun to fit in here, this warrior made her stand out again with his 
unusual behavior. She noted Black Eagle did not seem bothered in the least by 
the strange looks cast in his direction by the others.
To cover up her embarrassment, Melanie vigorously scrubbed a garment with the 
gritty sand from the edge of the river.
"How long will you be staying with us?" Black Eagle questioned.
"Until the weather improves enough to travel."
"Do you like to ride?"
Yes," she answered. "But I'm afraid I'm not very good at it."
The brave appeared to pounce on her words. "Would you like me to teach you?" he 
asked eagerly.
His question startled her. She did need to learn how to control a horse better, 
but she thought Jim would teach her. But if this brave wanted to show her now, 
she couldn't find anything wrong with the idea.
She stopped scrubbing the garment and turned toward him.
"Sure. If you have the time to teach me."
"Good. I will call for you later today after I pick out a gentle horse from the 
herd." With that he got up and strode off looking quite pleased with himself.
"Let me carry the clothes for you, Melanie," Snow Blossom mimicked the brave's 
earlier words with a mile wide grin on her face.
Melanie splashed water at her friend, then laughed.
"Can I help it if men find me irresistible?" she retorted, grinning.
"You better be careful. Black Eagle may bring ponies to your lodge."
"Why would he do that? What does it mean?"
"It means he wants to court you and someday join with you."
"Join with me? I don't understand what that means."
"I do not know the word in your language. It means when a man loves a woman and 
the woman returns his love, then they join and have babies."
"Oh, it means to marry. My goodness!" she exclaimed. "I only want to be friends 
with Black Eagle and learn to handle a horse better. I don't want to marry him."
"I think Black Eagle may have other ideas."
What had she gotten herself into now, she wondered. Nothing ever seemed simple 
around here. She would have to be careful not to give this man the wrong 
impression. This afternoon when she had her first riding lesson she would set 
him straight. She had enough problems in her life right now without adding 
another.
Dismissing Black Eagle from her mind, she entered into the casual conversation 
of the women as best she could as she continued washing clothes. Many words were 
still unfamiliar to her but she could follow the main idea of what they said. 
When she stumbled over a word, Snow Blossom helped her out. She discovered the 
girl-talk among these Indian women bore a definite resemblance to the chitchat 
of white females.
Husbands, boyfriends, and children were discussed with regularity. Occasionally 
a jealous female would malign another girl who rivaled her for the attentions of 
a certain male. These women lived an arduous life, yet, to Melanie they appeared 
to love their hard way of living and even found fulfillment and took pride in 
it.
When their washing was completed, they trudged back to the village. Melanie was 
lost in thought. She worried about her upcoming excursion with Black Eagle. She 
hoped she had not done the wrong thing by agreeing to let him teach her to 
properly control and ride a horse.
Black Eagle was a patient teacher. Over and over he demonstrated the correct way 
to mount the spotted pony. Melanie knew she was a slow learner when it came to 
this. The Indian brave's moves were lithe and fluid. He made it look so easy. 
Her movements, on the other hand, were awkward and clumsy. Of course, the 
clothes she wore were no help. She was forced to hike up her dress with each 
attempt to mount the horse and self-consciousness assailed her whenever she 
caught Black Eagle's eyes trained on her bare legs.
They had ridden out together on his pony trailing the other horse behind them 
until they were just out of sight of the Indian encampment. She was grateful she 
was spared any curious eyes that might witness her ineptitude at handling this 
animal.
"Do not be discouraged. Try again," Black Eagle encouraged.
She stepped up to the pony for what felt like the hundredth time. She thought 
she picked up the sound of horses hooves pounding the ground as she grabbed hold 
of the animal's shaggy mane and attempted to swing her leg up and over its back. 
She muffled a scream as her hand slipped from the horse's hair and she slid down 
the side of the pony toward the hard ground.
She was saved from the fall by the strong arms that caught her just in time. 
Black Eagle did not immediately release her but instead held her steady, peering 
intently down at her. When she looked up, she recognized the dark desire shining 
in his eyes. He had the same look Chato had a moment before he'd kissed her.
She struggled to get out of his embrace. Before he could release her, two horses 
galloped up to them at a rapid pace spewing snow into the air with their hooves.
Seemingly reluctant, Black Eagle dropped his arms from around her waist and 
turned to face the two riders. Chato jumped from his horse before it even came 
to a complete stop. Tall Bear remained seated atop his mount.
She was astonished by the expression on Chato's face. She'd never seen him look 
this angry. Not even when he'd come after her and little Arrow. A muscle 
convulsed in his jaw. His voice sounded low and guarded.
"What is going on here?" he spoke to Black Eagle but she answered.
"I'm learning to ride. Black Eagle's teaching me."
The two men eyed each other neither speaking. Finally Chato spat out, "If you 
need to learn to ride a horse, Melanie, I will teach you." His clipped words 
left no doubt about how he viewed Black Eagle helping her. He was furious.
"You do not own the white woman, Chato. She is free to do as she wishes."
The truth of these words stung like salt on a wound. Chato instantly reacted. 
His fist shot out with lightening speed, knocking Black Eagle to the hard 
ground. Melanie screamed at his unexpected action as the brave sprang to his 
feet prepared to do battle with Chato.
The two combatants circled each other. Melanie shouted, "No, stop this."
Tall Bear dismounted and walked to her side. He said something to the two men 
but she was too upset to understand his words. Thankfully, though, the pair 
stopped their movements. Tension fairly sizzled in the cold air.
"I will be watching you, Black Eagle." Then flashing her an angry scowl, Chato 
mounted up alongside Tall Bear and they both thundered off back toward camp.
"I'm sorry," Melanie offered her regrets. She somehow felt responsible for the 
bruise under Black Eagle's left eye.
"We will return to camp now. Another day we will continue."
She did not answer him. She was not at all sure she wanted to do this again. If 
Chato had not interrupted them when he did, she was sure he would have kissed 
her. One thing she was sure about, though, was she wasn't about to let Chato 
tell her what to do. Why did men always think women needed to be told what to 
do? Although she'd been around a number of men in her life, she felt 
inexperienced in handling them. Jim was her childhood sweetheart and she had 
only been seventeen years old when he left. She never really had to deal with 
men's passions and anger before.
These disturbing thoughts plagued her all the way to the village. Black Eagle 
was also silent on the ride back.
"I know your words back there were true, Tall Bear. Fighting with Black Eagle 
will not change anything. Melanie is the one who must choose who she will love. 
But you can't imagine how I felt when I saw him put his arms around her like 
that. I wanted to kill him."
"I know. I thought you might. That's why I stopped you."
"It is bad enough competing with that white man. Must I also compete with Black 
Eagle for her love?"
"I would say from the looks of things, he would like to lay claim to her for 
himself."
"Damn," Chato swore.
"It looks as though you will have to work twice as hard to secure her for 
yourself. That Black Eagle can turn a young girl's head. I've seen it happen 
with other girls before."
"Why can't he be content with one of the others? Why does he have to want 
Melanie?"
"I don't think I really have to give you the answer to that question, do I?" 
Tall Bear gently answered Chato's question with one of his own.
Chato already knew the answer. What man wouldn't want Melanie for his own? She 
was stunningly beautiful and possessed a strong spirit. He couldn't really blame 
the brave but he didn't like it just the same. He didn't need more obstacles put 
in his way. He had enough problems already concerning this white girl.
The days following the confrontation between Chato and Black Eagle melted into 
each other. Melanie saw very little of either man as she was kept extremely busy 
by Snow Blossom.
The Indian women took full advantage of these sunny days. Melanie learned to dry 
the buffalo meat to make jerky to be saved and eaten when fresh meat was not 
available. The warm buffalo robes had to be completely finished before any more 
really harsh weather arrived.
Snow Blossom instructed her in the best way to cover her tracks if she did not 
wish to be followed. She also pointed out the tracks of different animals so 
Melanie could learn to identify an animal simply by the marks it left behind.
Her newly acquired skills brought a strong feeling of accomplishment to Melanie. 
It felt good to know she could take care of herself if the need ever arose. Jim 
would be so proud of her.
Her cooking talents had also improved. She had learned to put together many 
varied ingredients to make several different tasty dishes. She could now prepare 
pemmican and buffalo stew almost as well as Snow Blossom. A couple of times 
Chato, Snow Blossom, Little Arrow, and even Tall Bear had joined her for dinner. 
She had enjoyed these evenings immensely.
Snow Blossom wanted to teach her the art of sewing since she needed another 
dress and a new pair of moccasins, anyway. Chato had graciously offered to try 
and locate a deer or elk for her to make her new clothes. Several times he had 
ridden out to search for the animal only to return empty-handed, as game was 
scarcer in the winter. His relentless desire to secure one for her amazed her. 
Even though she had told him not to bother anymore about it, he stubbornly 
refused to give up. It secretly pleased her that he cared enough to go to all 
this trouble.
Melanie didn't understand this man at all. Totally unpredictable, his changeable 
moods drove her crazy. She had been more than a little angry with him over his 
behavior toward Black Eagle the day he had tried to show her the proper way to 
mount a horse.
The last few days, however, Chato had behaved like a perfect gentleman. He went 
out of his way to compliment her on every small thing she did. He bombarded her 
with attention and appeared to want to please her in every way possible. She 
reasoned he must feel guilty over having ruined her riding lesson and this was 
his way of making amends. No matter what the reason, this new charming side of 
him was most enjoyable. She wasn't sure how long this mood would last so she 
determined to make the most of it.
"Melanie," Little Arrow called to her.
She stopped, her arms filled with recently washed garments, and walked over to 
him. He and Chato were seated on their ponies ready to ride out.
"Where are you two going so early?" she asked smiling up at this little boy she 
loved so much. He looked adorable sitting erect on the back of the pinto 
emulating every move Chato made.
"We are going hunting for deer or elk. For you, Melanie, for your new clothes," 
he stated. He could barely contain his excitement at the prospect.
"I cannot promise anything. It appears another storm may be approaching so we 
cannot travel too far today," Chato informed her.
She peered up at the sky. It looked the same as it always did to her, and she 
once again marveled at his uncanny ability to predict the weather. She would 
have to remember to ask him or Snow Blossom to teach her this skill. Then she 
could amaze everyone with her ability when she reached the ranch.
"Be careful," she warned. Little Arrow going hunting at such a young age worried 
her but she reminded herself these Indian children did many more things at an 
earlier age than white children did. Besides, she trusted Chato to keep him 
safe. She knew he would never let anything happen to him. He appeared to love 
the little boy as much as she did.
She waved good-bye to the pair as they rode out of sight. Seeing them together 
always gave her a warm feeling. Chato had a wonderful way with children and she 
hoped one day he would become a father, though she'd be long gone when that day 
came. A strange ache assailed her at the thought, which totally shocked her. 
What was wrong with her? She'd actually miss these Indians when she left. 
Amazingly they seemed like friends, now.
Her attachment to these people was really starting to concern her. There was a 
whole other life waiting for her. She could not afford to get too entangled with 
these people. This was only a temporary spot in her life. It would be easier if 
she could turn her emotions off while she was here, though. When it finally came 
time for her departure, she did not want to worry about what was happening back 
here to Chato or anyone else.
"Oh, no," she groaned. She saw Black Eagle was heading toward her. She dreaded 
having him ask her about more riding lessons and had avoided him whenever 
possible. But, there was no way she could evade him now.
"Hello, Melanie."
"Hello."
"I saw Chato leave camp. Do you know where he was going?"
"Yes. He's hunting for a deer or elk. I'd like to make a new dress and a pair of 
moccasins for myself. Snow Blossom is going to show me how to sew them."
"I see. Are you interested in another riding lesson?" he asked.
"I don't know. I…I'm a little tired today." She lowered her eyes at the blatant 
falsehood. She never had been a very good liar.
"Then we will make it another time." His voice sounded disappointed, despite his 
casual words. "Get some rest," he added.
She experienced a twinge of disgust with herself as he left. She watched him go 
wondering why she had refused him. Why should she care if Chato didn't like this 
brave near her?
Chapter Twelve
The vision of Chato and Little Arrow returning to camp near dusk dragging a huge 
deer behind them brought tears to Melanie's eyes. She felt sympathy for the deer 
killed so she could sew new clothes. But she knew, the meat would also be cooked 
and eaten. Still she wished there could have been another way.
Chato's previous three attempts had been unsuccessful. Melanie was glad it had 
happened today when Little Arrow had accompanied him. The glow radiating from 
Little Arrow's face told her he had thoroughly enjoyed himself.
True to Chato's word, the sky had now taken on a slate gray appearance. When the 
sky looked like this, even she could tell it was about to snow. How in the world 
had he detected the imminent storm this morning, she wondered.
She started to make her way over to the two returning hunters to thank them for 
their full day's work on her behalf but before she could reach them, Snow 
Blossom appeared out of nowhere to admire the animal they had captured.
Melanie pushed down the irritation that arose in her at the young Indian girl's 
gushy behavior toward Chato. Jealous rumblings stirred inside of her and she 
struggled to keep her emotions hidden.
With a benign expression plastered on her face she approached the trio.
"Look, Melanie, look what we brought you," Little Arrow called out, pride 
bursting with each word. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
"It's beautiful, honey. Thank you. Thank you both." She glanced up at Chato 
then, including him for the first time.
"You should have been there," Little Arrow continued. "We could have killed two 
other deer before this one but Chato said no. They were not right. He said he 
was waiting for just the perfect coloring and…"
"Little Arrow. We better get this unloaded." The gruffness in Chato's voice and 
his interruption of the boy, caused Melanie to swing around to face him. She 
stifled a gasp of surprise. Chato looked embarrassed! Always so in control of 
himself, Melanie was shocked at this uncharacteristic emotion. A thrill tore 
through her at Little Arrow's revelation that Chato had gone out of his way and 
searched for days for a special deer for her dress.
She stepped back to allow them to continue on to their destination. After they 
had gone, she looked at Snow Blossom surprised to find an annoyed expression 
covering her face. What was wrong with everyone today?
Almost as quickly as the uncharacteristic scowl had come, it left Snow Blossom's 
face. Looking like herself again, she reached out and clasped Melanie's hand.
"Come. Why don't you eat dinner with me tonight? It might be our last chance to 
visit for a couple of days if the heavy snows arrive."
"Thanks, I'd like that," Melanie replied. She was relieved to see Snow Blossom's 
friendly disposition return.
The two girls headed toward Snow Blossom's lodge. Melanie hoped the snowstorm 
would not last too long because now that the deer was secured, she could hardly 
wait to begin working on her new dress. As much as she liked the pretty one she 
wore, she desperately needed another garment to put on for a change.
She knew one thing she most definitely would miss when she entered white society 
once again. The stiff, cumbersome clothes of her world held no appeal for her 
after becoming used to the butter-soft texture of the doeskin dresses of these 
Indians.
Melanie tossed and turned. Off in the distance she could just barely make out 
the silhouettes of a couple locked in a loving embrace. She strained her eyes to 
see who they were but their identities were clouded in a heavy mist. An 
all-consuming need to see their faces controlled her and she twisted back and 
forth trying to erase the dense fog. Why couldn't she move closer to the 
clenched pair? Her feet appeared firmly attached to the ground.
Finally, the two people broke their embrace and began walking slowly toward her. 
All of a sudden she became frightened. She no longer wished to know who they 
were. Still they continued to steadily move in her direction. Soon, like it or 
not, she would know their identities.
An instant before they reached her, a swarm of horses swept out of nowhere to 
surround them. The thunderous noise was deafening. Flashes of blue filled up her 
vision as what looked like hundreds of mounted soldiers descended from every 
direction. They furiously fired at the couple. The man was suddenly hit and fell 
almost directly at her feet. She ran screaming, "No," at the relentless 
soldiers, her feet no longer rooted to the spot, but her cries went unheeded. 
She bent to peer into the faces of the two people who had been fired upon by the 
soldiers. Oh, my God, no! The faces belonged to Chato and Snow Blossom!
Screams filled the air-over and over again. Her eyes flew open and she bolted 
upright. Sweat poured off of her as she fought the hysteria overtaking her.
A dream. It had only been a bad dream. After her deafening shrieks, the air 
sounded startlingly quiet. Her racing heartbeat slowly began to revert back to 
normal. She glanced around her tipi astounded at finding everything exactly the 
way it looked when she fell asleep several hours earlier. The only evidence of 
her restless night and torturous dream could be found in the buffalo robes 
scattered about in total disarray from the thrashing of her arms and legs.
What did the horrible nightmare mean? Why were Chato and Snow Blossom wrapped in 
each other's arms in an obvious lover's embrace? And why were the soldiers 
shooting at them with a murderous blood lust shining in their eyes? A shiver ran 
up her spine.
With sleep now out of the question, she padded silently to the door of her home 
and raised the flap. Thick flakes of snow danced from the sky landing on her 
face and arms. The bitter cold wind stung her eyes. The ground was enveloped in 
a white harvest. She estimated twelve inches or more had already piled up. 
Melanie tried to make out Snow Blossom's lodge across the way but the curtain of 
snow blotted out everything from her view.
With a deep sigh, she reluctantly dropped the flap, effectively shutting out the 
unleashed wind and sat back down on the furs. The dream evoked a strange 
uneasiness within her. She pondered whether there might be a message-a meaning 
of some kind in the horrifying nightmare, but was helpless to understand its 
import. She wanted to simply dismiss it as a mere nightmare but a disturbing, 
nagging voice in the inner recesses of her mind would not allow her to put it to 
rest. It played over and over again in her mind until she thought she'd surely 
go insane.
Finally, even though dawn had not yet arrived, she got up and busied herself 
with preparing her morning meal. She was not the least bit hungry but if she did 
not do something to take her mind off the terrible nightmare she would surely go 
crazy.
The next two days were pure torture. The snow continued to accumulate. Several 
times a day Chato braved the storm to check on her and to bring her water, fuel 
for her fire, and deer meat. He never let her down, no matter what the 
circumstances. She debated whether to tell him about her dream but each time 
that she opened her mouth to begin the tale, something always stopped her. She 
did not understand why but she was reluctant, at least for now, to share it with 
him.
She hated to admit it, but her reluctance stemmed from the fact that in the 
dream he had held Snow Blossom in his arms. She knew she had absolutely no right 
to be upset about this, but she still was. Melanie felt selfish. She was leaving 
soon to be with the man she loved. So why shouldn't she be happy for Chato and 
Snow Blossom if they found each other after she left? Still, the thought of 
Chato embracing Snow Blossom made her heart twist with pain.
If only the snow would stop. This inactivity grated on her nerves. She needed to 
be out among the people, in the fresh air and busy doing chores to take her mind 
off that blasted dream and the constant images of Chato and Snow Blossom holding 
each other. Once she was completely away from this place and back where she 
belonged there would not be a minute to spare worrying about either one of them. 
She would be much too busy preparing for her own wedding with Jim. Why, she 
wondered, did Jim and her former life seem so far away and removed-almost like a 
distant dream. She had only been in this camp for about three months and yet it 
felt like much longer.
Well, from the look of it, the snow appeared to finally be on the wane. Perhaps 
tomorrow she would be able to escape this weather-made prison. She flopped down 
on the furs and wrapped a buffalo robe tightly around her. There was nothing 
else to do right now but try and get some sleep.
Chato paced back and forth, his strides reminiscent of a caged panther. The 
confines of his lodge closed in on him almost suffocating him. Inactivity had 
never agreed with him.
Truthfully, though, he realized his unrest stemmed from more than just the 
forced confinement due to the inclement weather. It was Melanie. Sleep escaped 
him each night as his mind tortured him with images of the last time he held her 
and kissed her in her lodge.
He was a man. How much more could he stand? He loved this white girl. All his 
protests to the contrary could not change that reality. The fact he desperately 
didn't want to love her, made no difference. Once he had believed he would never 
love or need anyone again. But he loved Melanie more than he had ever loved any 
other woman. Even White Dove.
His passion for Melanie caused him to toss and turn each night trying to find a 
comfortable position. His swollen manhood ached from thoughts of making love to 
this beautiful girl. She had become an obsession. He thought about the women 
he'd been with sexually since his banishment who had only slaked his desires. 
Love hurt too much. He had sworn to never love again.
But now, his deep, love for Melanie was real. The thought of her leaving and 
returning to her white world and another man brought such gut-wrenching pain he 
couldn't bear to dwell on it.
The notion that she might not truly love her fiancé only fueled his desire to 
have her for his own. At that moment, lifting the flap and seeing the snow begin 
to taper off, he resolved to do whatever it took to win her love. The 
consequences of not succeeding in this were too painful to even consider.
A string of clear days followed the biggest snowstorm of the season. The blue 
sweep of the sky was a welcome sight after the dismal gray of the past several 
days. The air filled with the sounds of children playing and adults attending to 
their numerous chores. Melanie reveled in these sounds of life once again.
Today she gladly accompanied the women on a foraging expedition in search of 
fuel for their fires since the supply had been dangerously exhausted by the 
recent extended storm. Though the air still felt nippy, the brilliant sun did 
much to make it a comfortable afternoon to look for firewood.
Her arms loaded down with sticks, Melanie approached Snow Blossom.
"Where did you find all those?" she inquired, obviously pleased with Melanie's 
ambitious efforts.
"Over there," she answered, dropping her pile and pointing with her finger 
toward a small copse of trees. "It's a good thing most of the snow has melted, 
otherwise this job would be a lot harder."
She smiled then at Snow Blossom as a strange thought hit her. She actually felt 
at home here with these Indians! She was happy it turned out this way. 
Otherwise, her stay here might have been filled with torment and the days might 
have dragged on endlessly. Instead, the months had actually flown by. If the 
weather held, perhaps she and Chato could make plans to leave in another month 
or so. She figured it must be about March by now. She didn't imagine the winter 
could last too much longer.
"Snow Blossom," she continued, "I always wondered about something. Your name. 
It's so lovely and different. Does it mean anything special or did your mother 
simply like the sound of it?"
The Indian girl looked amused. "I have been told I was born during a fierce 
snowstorm. After many long and difficult hours I was said to have finally burst 
forth not unlike the way in which a new blossom does when Spring shows her face. 
So I was called, Snow Blossom."
"It makes sense now. It's the perfect name for you. I like your people's way of 
naming their babies. Each one has a special meaning."
"I never really thought about it much before, but you are right," Snow Blossom 
agreed.
"Come with me and I'll show you where more twigs have fallen," Melanie invited.
The two young women moved to the spot where Melanie had located a good supply of 
firewood. As they gathered the twigs they continued their conversation.
"Have you seen Black Eagle today?" Melanie asked.
"No, not today, why?"
"I was just wondering." Actually she feared the handsome young brave would again 
press her to continue her riding lessons now that more pleasant weather had 
returned. She was still undecided as to what she should do in that event.
"Are you interested in him as a man?"
A little taken aback at the question, Melanie turned to fully face Snow Blossom.
"I'm promised to another man already. I thought you knew that." She was unaware 
her words caused her friend's heart to plummet. The Indian girl mistakenly 
thought she referred to Chato.
"My fiancé, Jim."
A smile lit the comely Indian girl's face. "No, you never mentioned it before. I 
am happy for you."
Melanie didn't know why, but her friend suddenly looked relieved about 
something.
"Thank you, Snow Blossom. And thank you for all your kindness toward me. You 
have made my stay here much nicer than it ever would have been without you. I 
will miss you when I leave."
"I too will miss you. Although you are from the race of the enemy of my people, 
I will never forget you nor what you did for Little Arrow."
"I wish things could be different between your people and mine."
"Me too," Snow Blossom replied.
Melanie sought to change the topic to a more pleasant one.
"What about you? Do you favor any of these braves as a boyfriend or a husband?"
"I do not understand this word, husband?"
"I mean, is there a warrior you wish to join with?" she explained.
"Oh." She hesitated for a moment before answering the question.
"I find favor with Chato," she revealed. She appeared to scrutinize Melanie's 
face for a reaction to her words.
Snow Blossom's words plunged through Melanie's heart, cutting as deeply as a 
knife. So the dream was not so far off after all. She struggled to shake off the 
gloomy mood that all at once descended upon her despite the dazzling sunshine of 
the day.
She was selfish to feel this way. She was ashamed of herself for experiencing 
this jealousy of Snow Blossom.
She forced a smile onto her face desperately trying to hide her true emotions. 
She chided herself for even being surprised. It wasn't as if she hadn't 
witnessed Snow Blossom's flirtatious manner each time the scout had been 
anywhere near her. Still for some reason the idea of the two of them together 
did not please her at all.
"Does Chato know this?"
"Not yet, but hopefully soon he will."
She continued. "Before Chato arrived, I found Black Eagle's company quite 
pleasant."
"Oh? Did he often carry your clothes for you?" Melanie's grin split her face, a 
mischievous gleam shining in her eyes.
"No. I cannot say I ever remember him so much as offering. He probably thinks 
because you are white, you are not as strong as we are." She laughed and a 
tinkling sound floated upward. "He should have seen you today carrying all those 
sticks."
A thought hit Melanie then and she voiced it. "After I leave here, I'll never 
know which one you chose to join with, will I?" Her brow knitted together as a 
frown replaced her previous smile. The banter of a moment ago vanished. In its 
place a somber realization took hold of both women. For the first time they each 
became completely aware that the time was fast approaching when they would 
separate-never to meet again.
Silence hung heavy as each searched for words of comfort that would ease their 
loss of one another as friends.
Finally, Melanie broke the strained hush that had settled between them.
"Regardless of whichever one you choose, I know you'll make a wonderful wife and 
mother. I wish for you much happiness."
The moistness in Snow Blossom's eyes was contagious as wet hot tears stung her 
eyes too. She swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat.
"You know I wish the same for you," Snow Blossom whispered.
She tried to break the air of seriousness that had seeped into their 
conversation.
"What are we crying about? I'm not leaving yet. This is silly."
She smiled through her tears and saw Snow Blossom do the same.
"Anyway," she continued. "Perhaps someday our people will be at peace with each 
other and then maybe we'll get to see each other's husbands and babies."
Snow Blossom nodded her head at her friend's words of hope but her doubts about 
this showed clearly in her eyes. Melanie chose to ignore those doubts although 
she shared those same misgivings. She didn't really believe the two very 
different groups of people would ever be able to solve their problems peacefully 
though she wished more than anything they could. However, for right now at 
least, she preferred not to dwell on her doubts.
The pair busied themselves with their task in an attempt to take their minds off 
Melanie's upcoming departure. They still had a few weeks left together and they 
both intended to make the most of them.
It had snowed again! Melanie believed she'd seen the last of the snow for this 
winter. She plopped down on the cozy buffalo skins and sighed. Another long day 
stretched ahead of her like the seemingly endless gray skies above. She was 
bored. The snow had finally stopped falling but not before it had left behind 
yet another blanket of white which again inhibited most of her normal daily 
activities.
"Melanie. Are you in there?"
Chato's deep voice startled her.
"Yes, come in," she called out glad for some company to break the monotony.
A rush of cold air swept in with Chato but she barely noticed it because her 
attention was focused on the odd-looking object tucked under his right arm.
"What is that?"
"Did you not have sleds in Virginia, Melanie?"
"That's a sled!" She jumped up and rushed over to examine the rectangular object 
noting the glint of amusement in Chato's eyes.
"Why, certainly we had sleds in Virginia, but how in the world did you make one 
way out here?"
"These are the rib bones from a buffalo," he answered pointing to what looked 
similar to the runners she remembered on her own sled. "Come and sleigh ride 
with me," he invited.
These people actually had sleds. There was no end to their creativeness.
"Why, I'd love to." She jumped up and down delighted over the prospect of 
leaving this tipi and her boredom behind.
Chato smiled at her childlike reaction, but for once she didn't care. Nothing 
could dampen her spirits now that she had something to do. She trudged through 
the thick snow following Chato to a place near the river. The gentle slope of 
the ground provided a good spot for sleigh riding.
"Sit down."
"Wait, Chato, what about you?"
Ignoring her protest, as soon as she sat down, he gave her a gentle push sending 
the sled sliding through the snow. The biting wind rushed past her face as the 
sled picked up speed. She screamed when it veered suddenly to the right spilling 
her face down into the freezing snow.
Chato raced to her side and flipped her over concern creasing his forehead. She 
burst into laughter at the worried expression on his face. Seeing she wasn't 
hurt, he joined in her laughter until tears streamed down her face.
"Melanie, why do you cry. Are you hurt?" Instantly his laughter turned once 
again to concern.
"You-you're so funny. You look like a mama hen a fussin' over her baby chick. 
I'm fine, you silly goose," she finished.
"Do not do thatcinstinna , you scared me," he chastised. "You should not cry if 
you are not hurt."
"I can't help it, Chato. It's just I haven't gone sleigh riding in such a long 
time and I haven't had this much fun in quite a while."
He stared at her face glistening with a mixture of wet snow and tears. She was 
stunning. He fought his body's reaction to her nearness and abruptly stood up 
taking both of her hands in his and pulled her up with him.
"This time we will go together."
"All right."
They walked hand in hand to the spot where Melanie had begun her ride. They sped 
down the hill together over and over laughing hysterically each time they fell 
off rolling in the mounds of snow. When they'd reached the top of the slope for 
the fifth time, squeals of delight drew Melanie's attention and she turned to 
look at the children sleigh riding off in the distance. She suddenly realized 
she and Chato were the only adults playing in the snow, but she didn't care. She 
was having a great time. Chato followed the direction of her gaze.
"Do you wish to have children, Melanie?"
"Oh, yes," she answered without hesitation. "I always missed not having any 
brothers or sisters when I was growing up. It was very lonely. I intend to have 
lots and lots of babies. What about you?"
"Someday, I would like to have strong sons."
"Sons? No little girls?"
He smiled at her indignant tone.
"Yes,cinstinna , little girls too." Just like you.
She was not surprised to learn he desired children. He was wonderful with Little 
Arrow. She had no doubt he would make a good father. Sadly, though, she would 
never see him with his sons and daughters.
The voices of the playing children gave her an idea.
"Maybe, Little Arrow would like to sleigh ride with us."
"If that will please you, I will go and ask him."
She watched him walk away. A nagging guilt plagued her because lately Chato 
filled her thoughts most of the time and at times like this she almost 
completely forgot about Jim and her promise to her mother.
As Chato walked away in search of Little Arrow, lightheartedness overcame him. 
He had not felt this carefree in a very long time. Somehow, being around Melanie 
always had the effect of lifting his spirits. He did not wish to dwell on what 
his moods would be like if she returned to her own people as planned.
Chapter Thirteen
Three days later Snow Blossom sat in Melanie's lodge.
"Try to take smaller stitches," the Indian girl instructed. "Let me show you."
She took the doeskin from Melanie's hands and demonstrated a neater method of 
stitching. From the smooth flow of her hand Melanie knew that Snow Blossom had 
done this many times before. To the contrary, she had done very little sewing. 
There had always been a servant to do it for her.
She thought these people very ingenious to fashion a needle every bit as sharp 
and effective as the ones her mother owned. Snow Blossom explained how her 
people used the bones of the buffalo to make sewing needles. When Snow Blossom 
did the stitching, they worked fine. Melanie decided not only was she clumsy at 
mounting a horse but also at sewing. She felt discouraged.
"Do not look so sad. It takes practice. You are doing very well."
"You're not a good liar, Snow Blossom. I'm doing a terrible job," she 
admonished. "You're just too nice to say so."
Both smiled.
"I did not know you were such a quitter," Snow Blossom challenged.
"I'm not a quitter. Give it back to me and I'll try again. But I don't want to 
ruin it. It's so pretty." She looked down at the garment Snow Blossom passed 
back to her. Despite her ineptitude, Melanie thought it was turning out lovely.
She was so glad Chato had waited for a deer with these special markings. The 
extra white this animal possessed enabled her to make the whole upper half of 
the dress white. The design, emblazoned with red, yellow, and blue beads, 
porcupine quills, and feathers, contrasted strikingly with the pure white of the 
dress. The rest of the dress was light brown. Snow Blossom had already taught 
her how to fringe the sleeves and hemline, and Melanie loved the added touch of 
style that gave to the line of the dress. It had taken several days of arduous 
work to scrape and rub the skin until it took on the characteristic petal 
softness of the Indians' clothing. Looking at it now, she decided it was worth 
all the effort. She ran her hands over the soft texture of the garment imagining 
how wonderfully comfortable it would be to wear. She could hardly wait to put it 
on.
"How much longer do you think before it's finished?"
"Are you anxious to wear it?" Snow Blossom asked?
"I want to try it on and make sure it fits."
"If we work real hard, perhaps it will be ready today."
Shouts from outside suddenly intruded upon their work.
"What is that?" She looked at Snow Blossom for an explanation of the unexpected 
increased volume of outside noises.
"I have no idea," she answered.
Melanie moved to the door and raised the flap to peer out. She stood still, 
stunned. What was going on? In place of the normal activities of the day, all 
the children and several men and women ran in all directions laughing and 
playing frivolously.
Her mouth dropped open even more at the sight of Chato chasing after Little 
Arrow. She had never seen the adults here play with their children like this. 
These serious stoic people always seemed too hard at work just eking out an 
existence in this harsh land to have any spare time to play. Up until now, she 
had only seen children play with the exception of her and Chato. What in the 
world did it mean?
"Snow Blossom, come over here and look at this. What's going on?"
Snow Blossom peeked out, then burst into bubbling laughter apparently in 
reaction to the expression on her face.
Had all these people, including Snow Blossom, suddenly taken leave of their 
senses?
"What're you laughing at? Your people always work, work, and work some more. 
They never even take rests during the day when they're bone tired. Why is 
everyone running around playing all of a sudden? Stop laughing and tell me," she 
demanded, though her shoulders shook with her own laughter.
Snow Blossom's giggles finally subsided enough for her to answer, "My people are 
rejoicing over the beautiful warm day the Great Spirit has provided. We do not 
only work, you know, sometimes we do play."
At Melanie's look of continued amazement she patiently attempted to further 
explain this rare behavior.
"When food or shelter or warm clothing is needed, nothing but hard work can 
exist among the men and women of my tribe. To do less would endanger the lives 
of all our people. Now that slightly warmer weather has arrived, one day of play 
will not hurt anyone."
"Does this happen often?" Melanie questioned still in a state of shock over this 
jovial playful side to these people who were thought of by her kind as 
bloodthirsty savages with no souls.
"No, this is rare. As it gets harder and harder to survive, it will happen less 
and less. It always makes me happy to see it, though," Snow Blossom concluded.
"Melanie, come save me. Chato's after me," Little Arrow's voice rang out.
She looked at Snow Blossom.
"Go and play. We can finish the dress later or tomorrow."
Needing no more persuasion, Melanie raced out of her tipi to find Little Arrow. 
She was rewarded with a squeal of delight as she reached him and grabbed hold of 
his small hand. The two ran for a hiding place to escape Chato who was in hot 
pursuit of them.
"Shhh, Little Arrow. Don't laugh or he'll find us." They were crouched low 
beneath the branches of a small group of trees. Melanie had used the knowledge 
Snow Blossom had taught her to cover their tracks.
"Chato will never find us," she whispered to Little Arrow. If she could outsmart 
this Indian brave, she would really feel proud of herself. If he gave up, they'd 
win this game similar to hide and seek which she remembered playing as a child. 
Of course her father always let her win back then. It seemed like hours since 
they had found this spot. She hoped Chato would give up soon, because her knees 
ached from her crouched position.
A scream tore from her lips from the shock of two hands encircling her waist 
from behind.
"Gotcha. You lose." Chato's deep chuckles combined with Little Arrow's peels of 
laughter. She struggled to break free of his grasp as the little boy darted away 
leaving her to the scout's mercy.
"I'll get you for this, Little Arrow," she yelled after him. You could help me, 
you know." Her smile belied her idle threat.
Chato now had her pinned to the ground his muscular body partially covering 
hers. He proceeded to tickle her taking obvious delight from the giggles that 
burst forth from her lips. She writhed and squirmed trying to avoid his 
torturous tickling but to no avail.
"Give up?"
"Never," she squealed.
He renewed his tickling amidst her uncontrollable giggles.
"Are you sure you do not give up?"
"All right, all right, you win," she conceded. Anything so he would stop 
tickling her.
He looked down at her then straight into her devastatingly bright green eyes. 
They were beautiful shining like two precious stones set in her face. Her 
reddish-gold hair spread out around her face like a huge fan. How he loved this 
girl. He wanted her so bad he could taste it. His hunger for her was a raw ache 
in the pit of his belly. Her unique feminine smell drew him closer to brush his 
face lightly across her pale cheek and then bury it in her glorious hair.
Before she could stop him, Chato completely covered her prone body with his own. 
She closed her eyes against the intense wave of passion that washed over her at 
the contact of his hard body pressed securely against her own.
She wished for his kiss a second before he gave it. This kiss, slow and 
languorous, teased her lips until they opened and allowed his tongue entry.
The warmth surging through her body was pleasant and familiar now. Her arms 
hugged him tighter. Her mind sent messages that told her she should not do this 
but her body had an opinion of its own and paid the messages no heed. Right now 
she was lost, drowning in a sea of feeling and it seemed the most natural thing 
to be ensconced in this man's tight embrace.
He ended the kiss to look down at her. "Cinstinna, you are so beautiful. Your 
skin feels so smooth."
Before she could reply to his compliments, he began to trail kisses down her 
shoulders. She sucked in her breath when his mouth closed over her left breast, 
his hot lips scorching it right through the covering of her doeskin dress.
The warmth of his hand on her bare leg caused another intake of breath and more 
sensations to charge through her body. His ragged breath in her ear left no 
doubt of the effect his lovemaking was having on him also. A sense of power shot 
through her and she was glad she had this ability to disturb his senses in the 
same way he devastated hers.
His hand steadily moved up her thigh where no man had ever touched before. She 
opened her mouth to tell him to stop but no sound came out.
Instead, her name and Chato's could be heard faintly off in the distance. She 
felt cold the minute he rolled off her and instead of relief, a strong sense of 
disappointment surged through her.
"I think Little Arrow is coming back for us." His breathing was still uneven and 
his voice sounded hoarse.
A little abashed at her reckless behavior, she avoided his eyes as she pushed 
down the skirt of her dress covering her bare legs which his roving hand had 
uncovered.
"Melanie? Chato?" This time the boy's voice was almost upon them. She smoothed 
down her tousled hair but could do nothing about the red staining her cheeks. 
Why did this man always have the ability to make her lose control like that? 
They were practically right out in the open. What if Little Arrow had not called 
out but had simply snuck up on them? She didn't even want to think about how 
embarrassing it would have been.
She was saved from Chato's bold scrutiny when Little Arrow burst through the 
trees.
"Do you want to play find the fox's tail, Melanie?"
She much preferred to seek the solace of her lodge to be alone with the myriad 
of questions concerning her reckless abandonment with Chato, but she couldn't 
resist the plea in Little Arrow's ebony eyes.
"Sure," she answered. "How do we play it, honey?" She stood up still avoiding 
Chato's gaze.
"Everyone plays. Right now someone is hiding a fox's tail somewhere in the camp. 
We all have until dark to find it. The one who finds it is the winner. Chato, 
you play too."
She finally lifted her eyes to look directly at this man who had the ability to 
sometimes make her forget the reason she'd come out west in the first place. A 
dark hooded look covered his face.
"Chato, will you play too, please?" persisted Little Arrow.
"Perhaps you and Melanie should play without me."
"But we have a much better chance of finding it if you help us. Melanie, tell 
him to play, please?" he beseeched her.
The child looked so distressed at the thought of playing this game without 
Chato's help she had no choice but to try and persuade him to join them in their 
search. Personally, she'd rather be away from the man's overpowering presence 
right now but it seemed so important to Little Arrow.
She took a fortifying breath and said, "Please, Chato. We both would like you to 
help us find the fox's tail."
He pinned her with his eyes. "Is that what you really want?"
She fought back the urge to scream, no, and instead calmly stated, "Yes." It 
wasn't a complete lie because for Little Arrow's sake she did want him to play 
the game.
"Then, let's get started." He walked briskly away leaving her standing there. 
Little Arrow skipped happily after him. She was glad someone was excited over 
the prospect of spending the entire rest of the day in the company of this 
handsome brave. She certainly wasn't.
Melanie plopped down on the cold hard ground completely exhausted. She had been 
there no more than a few minutes when a voice behind her taunted, "Giving up so 
soon?"
She turned to face this indomitable male who hunkered down beside her.
"This is just as much work as the chores you normally do. Your people play as 
hard as they work. Don't they ever get tired? Don't they ever relax?"
Chato chuckled at her words.
"We are relaxing right now. This whole day is about rest from the normal duties 
that need to be done each day."
"This is not exactly my idea of resting," she retorted. His grin infuriated her. 
She had the distinct feeling he was making fun of her again. She ignored the 
smirk on his face refusing to allow her temper to rise to the bait.
"What prize does the winner receive for finding the tail, anyway?"
His grin widened at her question.
"It is a great honor to be the one to find the hidden tail. It shows good skills 
and perseverance to successfully track down the quarry-in this case the fox's 
tail. Pride and a feeling of accomplishment are the rewards plus a deep respect 
from the others."
"In other words, there's no prize."
He laughed, a deep resonant sound. "For a white person, I guess there is no 
prize. For my people, the respect of others and the honor that it brings, are 
very valuable prizes. If you will excuse me, I have a fox's tail to find."
He straightened up and left her then, as a feeling of chagrin possessed her. He 
always managed to have the last word on everything.
She remained seated for a while longer watching the Indians as they roamed here 
and there in search of the tail. She personally thought it was a stupid game-a 
waste of time. Someone should show these people how to relax-really relax.
Out of the corner of her eyes she spotted Black Eagle and Snow Blossom searching 
together. She raised her eyebrows at the sight. She couldn't help the sentiment 
that flooded over her. They made an attractive couple and seeing them together 
made her happy. Well, she might as well join Chato and Little Arrow again. She 
wished someone would find the tail so the stupid game could be over. This 
emotionally charged day could not end soon enough to suit her.
"Little Arrow, we are going to check down by the river. You finish searching 
under the rest of these rocks."
Chato took her hand and led her away from the rocky area the three had 
diligently combed for the last ten minutes. She looked quizzically at him 
wondering at his abrupt departure when they hadn't finished a thorough search of 
the region yet.
She didn't have long to wonder about it because after only a few minutes, Little 
Arrow came flying at them a long furry thing clutched tightly in his hand, 
waving in the breeze he created. The look on his face said it all. He was 
ecstatic. All at once it dawned on her. Chato had discovered the tail earlier 
and had allowed Little Arrow to find it and receive the credit. There was no end 
to the surprises this man held in store for her.
"I found it, I found it!" He threw himself into her arms and she hugged him 
close. The pride glowing in his eyes was reward enough for her. Now she 
understood Chato's earlier words. This game did have a very valuable prize after 
all. Over the boy's head she met the knowing eyes of the scout. Understanding 
leaped between them.
The days that followed the Indian's so called "day of relaxation" were filled 
once again with the many and diverse chores so much a part of these people's day 
to day existence. Afternoons grew progressively warmer and it appeared winter 
was finally on the wane.
Melanie scooped up her new dress and experienced a thrill over her 
accomplishment-she'd actually made this entire dress with her own hands. She 
slipped the garment down over her head and smoothed it over her hips. It molded 
to her curves with the fringe ending just above the top of the moccasins. The 
same fringe and decorations also trimmed the soft moccasins which were 
infinitely more comfortable than the thick, hard shoes she was used to wearing. 
Donning white women's clothing once again was not something she looked forward 
to.
At the sounds of footsteps approaching, Melanie opened the flap to greet her 
friend.
"You look lovely. The dress fits perfectly." Snow Blossom turned her around to 
admire their handiwork from all sides. She gently pushed her back inside and 
followed her in.
"What are you doing?" Melanie questioned.
"Your hair. I want to braid it in the style of my people. Do you mind?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "If you want to."
Sitting down and crossing her legs, Melanie allowed Snow Blossom to plait her 
hair. When the Indian girl finished, she lifted her hands to feel two long 
braids hanging down her shoulders. Snow Blossom fastened the ends with thin 
leather strips and stuck a vibrantly red-colored feather in each one for the 
finishing touch.
"Do I look like an Indian, now?" Melanie teased her friend.
Snow Blossom laughed at the ridiculous question. "If we could turn your eyes 
from the color of spring grass to the color of the buffalo, darken your skin, 
and take the sunshine out of your hair, maybe."
Melanie loved the poetic natural way these people spoke.
Snow Blossom took hold of her elbow and they both moved outside. Melanie 
experienced a sudden twinge of nervousness. She wondered if Chato would notice 
her new clothes. At the same time she was upset with herself for caring so much 
whether he did or not. She had no need to worry.
Chato dropped the bow he held at the alluring picture that she presented as she 
walked by his lodge. His senses quickened at the way the doeskin of her new 
dress clung to her curvaceous form. The splash of white across her chest and 
shoulders high-lighted and set off to perfection her face and hair. Her hair. 
What had she done to her glorious hair? Emotion stirred deep inside of him at 
the sight of her not only wearing the clothes of his people but also their 
women's style of hair. Her lithe form seemed made for these type of clothes. 
Chato decided white women's clothing, with all the different layers, did not do 
justice to Melanie's natural beauty.
When her eyes found his, he swallowed with difficulty and got to his feet. It 
annoyed him that he could never remember being this ill at ease with a woman 
before but this one had the ability to completely unnerve him. She looked at him 
and he knew he had to say something.
"You look beautiful. The dress turned out very well."
"Thank you." His compliment brought a flush to her cheeks. It also made her 
heart sing. She had a need to please this man. That had been true from almost 
the very first time they had met. She had no idea why, just knew it was so. Like 
a streak of lightening it suddenly occurred to her she might actually love this 
man.
Distress furrowed her brow as she faced this possibility head on. A look of 
wonder slowly replaced the distress as she finally came to grips with the reason 
why his opinion of her mattered more than anyone else's. She loved him!
How dense she had been to not recognize it sooner. But then the disturbing fact 
that this realization of her true feelings changed nothing began to sink in. How 
could she possibly love two men at the same time? She couldn't have Chato when 
she was engaged to Jim. She had promised both her mother and Jim she would marry 
him. Now that she had admitted her love for Chato to herself, she knew it would 
only make it that much harder for her to leave when the time came.
She looked at Chato and came to an instant decision. For both their sakes she 
must never tell him of her love. It would only hurt him and herself even more 
when they parted forever.
A tug from Snow Blossom brought her back to the present and started her on her 
way again, thankful to be out from under Chato's intense gaze. The hammering of 
her pulse gradually returned to normal once they were completely out of his 
view.
Several other people along their path commented on her new dress and this time 
she was pleased by their attention. She really had friends here who cared enough 
about her to notice a new dress.
It felt good to walk along and recognize so many faces. She waved to Horse Man 
whom she knew was married to Grey Fawn. Their three small children, Slow Turtle, 
White Feather, and Night Star often accompanied their mother to the river. 
Melanie enjoyed watching their adorable antics while doing her chores.
When they passed the old blind woman who was known as the Old One, a stab of 
pity tore through her as it always did at the sight of this kindly elderly 
woman. On impulse, she walked over to the Old One and greeted her. "Hello, Old 
One, it's Melanie. I have come to show you my new dress. I made it all by 
myself. Well, Snow Blossom helped me a little but I sewed most of it myself."
"Come closer," the old woman pleasantly ordered. When she complied, the old 
gnarled fingers reached out and began a tactile examination of the design, 
stitches, and softness of her new dress. Melanie was used to this now but she 
remembered the day she first made this woman's acquaintance. She had jumped back 
at the old woman's touch until it was explained to her that she used her hands 
and her sense of touch in place of her eyes. Once she knew that, she had allowed 
the woman to explore every inch of her face with her twisted fingers without 
complaint.
"I cannot tell it is not the work of one of my own people. You have learned well 
what Snow Blossom has taught you. From the feel of the dress and you, you will 
turn many a young buck's head today." She grinned exposing a huge gap where 
several teeth had once been.
Her blunt words brought a heated blush to Melanie's cheeks and she was glad only 
Snow Blossom was close enough to hear her outrageous remark. She thanked the old 
woman for her compliment and continued on her way with Snow Blossom.
A huge smile broke out across her face when they encountered Little Deer with 
her two-week-old baby. The little boy sucked ravenously at his mother's breast. 
Melanie slowed her steps and came to a complete stop to observe the baby for a 
few minutes.
"He's as cute as a bug's ear, Little Deer. What's his name?"
"Laughing Brook," Little Deer replied looking down at her infant son with pride. 
"Would you like to hold him?"
"I'd love to." She took the squirming infant in her arms and a strong maternal 
instinct immediately took hold of her. She knew in that instant she could love 
this baby every bit as much as she could love a white child. This thought caused 
her to fully realize for the first time she no longer thought of these Indians 
as savages but rather as human beings, no different than herself. She handed 
Laughing Brook back to his mother when he began to cry, then smiled and waved 
good-bye as she walked away.
She never would have believed these industrious people capable of the emotions 
she had clearly seen demonstrated over the last several months. When she 
returned to her people she would have much to tell them about these Indians who 
they mistakenly believed were such savages.
Chapter Fourteen
Little Arrow and two friends sped past Melanie. She grinned when Little Arrow 
leaped onto one boy's back and the two rolled over and over play-fighting in 
imitation of the adult warriors. It reminded her of the play-fighting she'd seen 
young boys do back in Virginia.
A soft flutter of air blew a lock of hair into her eye and she absently reached 
up and pushed it behind her ear. Though somewhat warmer than in recent weeks, 
the breeze still felt relatively cold. She hugged the light blanket tighter 
around her shoulders, wondering what day of the week it was. She had lost track. 
Since being here, it didn't seem important to know. She estimated it must be the 
end of March or beginning of April. All she knew for sure was if the brilliant 
warmth of the sun today was any indication, her time here would soon be over.
Little Arrow rose from his combatant who lay totally still on the ground. With a 
victorious grin on his face he bounded over to where she sat. Her brows knit 
together for a second until the little boy on the ground jumped up and began 
brushing himself off. Thank goodness, he'd only pretended to really be hurt.
"Did you see me?" Little Arrow asked.
"Yes. You're a good warrior, honey," she complimented. She assumed this was what 
Indian mothers responded to their sons in a situation such as this one. It 
apparently was the correct response because Little Arrow beamed at her words of 
praise.
Before he could re-join his playmates, the lookouts guarding the camp shouted 
that visitors approached. Little Arrow informed her what they said but she had 
understood the gist of their words even before he translated them. Now it was 
her turn to feel proud. Six months ago if anyone had told her she would learn to 
speak and understand another language as well as she had, she would have said 
they were crazy.
Not long after the sentries made their announcement, Melanie watched the small 
group of Indians, not of this tribe, thunder in on horseback and then slow down 
to thread their way toward Chief Lone Wolf's lodge.
Her attention was caught and held by one of the riders, who appeared to be 
slightly older than the others. An air of dignity surrounded him. His long black 
hair hung straight to his shoulders while a huge headdress containing a myriad 
of feathers hung down his back. He held himself erect and straight atop his 
hors,; his stature regal. Directly behind him rode a younger Indian who also 
possessed a powerful countenance.
Melanie felt herself relax a little when members of the Cheyenne village ran 
forward and warmly greeted them as they trotted single file through the camp. 
Apparently, these visitors were not strangers and obviously welcome to the 
Cheyenne.
When the riders passed directly in front of where she and Little Arrow stood, 
the older man turned and intently stared down at her. She sucked in her breath 
as she felt a similar reaction to this Indian man as she had upon meeting Chief 
Lone Wolf. This was another chief, an important one too, she would bet her life 
on it.
She stared deep into this man's eyes and thought she saw kindness reflected 
there despite his stern expression. The man said nothing to her and after a few 
seconds, he continued on allowing her to release the breath she had 
subconsciously been holding.
"Who was that?" she asked Little Arrow in awe.
"He is, Moke-ta-ra-to, Black Kettle, in your language. He is a Cheyenne chief 
who comes to see grandfather sometimes. The other chief who rode behind him is 
called, Left Hand. He is Arapaho, not Cheyenne," Little Arrow explained.
"Oh," she said, still a little awestruck by the intense probing by the powerful 
Indian chief. Little Arrow waved good-bye to her then and scampered back to play 
some more with his friends. Melanie swiveled around to watch the visitors 
dismount in front of Chief Lone Wolf's tipi. Her eyebrows raised a bit when she 
saw Tall Bear and Chato enter Lone Wolf's lodge along with the two visiting 
chief's Little Arrow had just identified for her.
She continued to watch the children play but every so often she turned back 
toward the large structure wondering what was going on in there. Was it simply a 
visit or was it some important meeting? Even though she knew it was really none 
of her business, her curiosity ate at her. She hoped they were not planning any 
kind of an attack on her people or anything like that.
At least Chato would know since he was in there. She decided when he came out 
she would ask him. Since that time under the trees a few weeks ago when he had 
kissed her, she'd avoided him as much as possible. Other than last week when 
she'd briefly passed by him in her new dress, she had kept her distance.
She felt pulled in opposite directions since admitting her love for him to 
herself. Avoiding him seemed best. Now, though, she would have to make an 
exception and talk to him in order to find out why these Indians were here.
"What do you say, Chato? You know these bluecoats better than any of us. What do 
you think are the chances they will make peace with our people?" Chief Lone Wolf 
addressed the scout from Fort Benson.
"It is hard to say. I do not trust them. On the other hand, the whites are many 
and we are few. Eventually we must find a way to live with them or perish."
Chief Lone Wolf spoke then. "This is what I tell my young warriors. War will 
only end in more bloodshed for our people. They are hotheaded, though, and only 
think of trying to rid our lands of the white menace. I favor peace with these 
bluecoats because I do not think we can ever succeed in driving them completely 
away. I fear many of our people will die if we do not make peace now."
Black Kettle nodded in obvious agreement with Lone Wolf's words. This visiting 
leader's desire for peace with the white men was well known. Chato studied Black 
Kettle's lined face for a few moments. He appeared tired. Chato sensed that 
although he believed in peace with the soldiers, he was not optimistic or happy 
about it. Reluctantly resigned to the idea better described his attitude if his 
face was any judge of his feelings.
Chato felt sorry for the man. He knew Black Kettle traveled to the different 
Cheyenne villages throughout these parts bringing his message and plea for peace 
with the white men. He firmly believed that if his people continued in this war 
with the whites, all of them would eventually die.
Chato knew, out of desperation, this kindly, wise, old man felt compelled to 
convince the Cheyenne to seek peace with these white invaders who took their 
homes, way of life, and even their very lives from them. Chato wished they would 
not seek his advice on this. It was too awesome of a responsibility.
Lone Wolf said to the visiting Cheyenne leader, "You are right about making 
peace with the bluecoats, Black Kettle. When the time comes, I will join with 
you and Left Hand's people in seeking a truce with the whites."
Chato and Tall Bear left then to allow the three chiefs time to spend alone with 
each other.
Melanie spotted the two braves the minute they left the lodge and she hurried 
toward them. From the solemn expressions on both their faces, she could tell 
something of great importance had just taken place.
"Chato, could I talk to you for a minute?" she smiled apologetically at Tall 
Bear for interrupting them.
Tall Bear shot Chato a knowing look and excused himself to head in the direction 
of his son.
"How are you?" He had forgotten how flawlessly beautiful she was. Other than the 
day she first wore her new dress, he had not seen her close up in weeks. She 
obviously had avoided him for some reason. He stared at her thinking she had 
grown even more attractive in the six months she had been with his people. The 
physical labor had toned her slender body to perfection and her skin was a shade 
darker from exposure to the sun, which brought out the startling green of her 
eyes even more.
She felt a bit uncomfortable from the way he was studying her. She thought he 
looked like a hungry wolf that wished to devour her.
"Why, I...I'm fine," she stammered trying to bring her racing heart under 
control. She hated these reactions she always had when he was near.
"Is there something special you wanted to talk about, Melanie?"
"No, not really, I ...Yes there is," she finally admitted.
"What is it, is anything wrong?"
"No everything's fine. I just wanted to know what those Indians were doing in 
Little Arrow's grandfather's lodge?" There. She had said it and if he was going 
to call her nosy, he could just go ahead and do it.
Chato could barely keep the amusement from showing on his face. Women! They 
always had to know everything. He had hoped she sought him out because she 
missed him but no-she simply couldn't stand not knowing what had gone on inside 
the lodge. How typical, he thought. Here he was alarmed thinking something 
serious might be wrong and she just couldn't contain her female curiosity. Well, 
whatever the reason, he was glad she was no longer avoiding him. It felt good to 
be near her.
He sighed. "Black Kettle spoke with Lone Wolf about whether or not to try and 
make peace with the soldiers."
"Chato, that's wonderful." Her whole face lit up. "That means everything will be 
all right between my people and yours. Maybe all this killing will finally 
stop."
She looked like a little girl who had been given a present.
"I am afraid it is not that simple."
"What do you mean? Why not?"
"My people have made treaties for peace with your people many times before. The 
white men promise they will not bother us if we stay on our own lands. Then the 
yellow rock is found where we live and they break their word and come to our 
lands again. I am afraid your people do not keep their promises."
"Yellow rock?" Melanie puzzled over this a moment then realized he meant gold.
"Well, broken promises or not, I suppose your people never do anything wrong, 
right, Chato?"
"I did not say that. But if your homes were being taken away, you would not just 
sit there without fighting back."
She had to admit he was right. Before she had come here, she had always believed 
these Indians to be savages, not really even human. The attack on her wagon 
train only fortified that notion. But now, since spending time with this tribe, 
she knew they were just like white people. Didn't they have the right to protect 
their homes and families? Lately, she felt so confused. Would she ever feel the 
same about white people or Indians again, she wondered.
"I don't want to talk about it any more," she stated.
"That suits me just fine," he replied. She could tell he was annoyed as he 
stalked away from her.
She watched him go. Angry strides took him further and further away from her and 
a feeling of sadness swept over her. Why did it always have to be like this? She 
wanted everything to be good between her people and his. She wanted everybody to 
get along. All this hatred was totally unnecessary. They were all people. She 
could clearly see that now. These Indians were no less human than the whites 
were.
For the first time she considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it was 
her people who were the most to blame for the problems with the Indians. This 
thought was extremely unsettling.
She had an urge to go after Chato and explore with him this new possibility and 
even to apologize. But something stopped her. She wasn't sure she was ready to 
handle the fact that her own race could be at fault in this great conflict 
between the whites and Indians. It directly contrasted everything she'd ever 
been taught.
Instead of following Chato, she re-traced her steps to return to the solace of 
her lodge. She ignored the little voice inside of her that screamed, "coward" 
with each step she took.
Chato left the main camp and veered off toward the river. He plopped down on the 
hard ground. The river, with its reddish tinged water swirled and churned 
matching his insides exactly. It appeared angry. He was angry too. The fact that 
he was Indian and she was white always seemed to come between them. Would this 
white girl ever agree with him on anything?
He believed all along the biggest obstacle keeping Melanie from ever loving him 
would be her fiancé. He suspected long ago though, that her feelings for this 
white man were ambivalent and as muddy as this river. He hoped she might come to 
realize she didn't truly love this Jim and then he would have a chance to make 
her his.
Now it looked like even if she realized she didn't love this man, she would 
never come to love him because the differences between their two races were too 
great. Her attitude bothered him. She simply refused to see another side to this 
struggle. She refused to open her mind to his people's suffering because of her 
people's actions.
Suddenly he became aware of a great change within himself. For the first time in 
over two years he now thought of the Indians as his people once again. He had to 
credit Melanie for that. He never would have returned to the Indians if she had 
not entered his life.
Admittedly he felt an inner peace at being back here with his own kind and all 
the guilt and hurt over his banishment was gone. Other than his deep love for 
Melanie which appeared to be unreturned, he was happier now than he had been in 
a very long time. He was extremely grateful to her for returning his life to 
him.
A strong desire to try one more time to reach this girl consumed him and he left 
the banks of the swirling river to look for her. The memory of the times he had 
held her in his arms spurred him on. Somehow, he had to find a way to get 
through to her.
Chato finally ended up at Melanie's tipi after a thorough search of the camp. He 
hesitated a second before asking for admittance to her home. He knew much 
depended on whether or not he could ever get her to open her mind and her heart 
to his people's side of this issue.
"Come in," Melanie called out.
She sat on the buffalo robes and looked up as he entered. He appeared upset but 
his handsome features remained unmarred.
"Sit down," she politely offered.
He hunkered down as his mind scrambled for the right words to make a difference 
in her attitude toward his kind.
"Melanie," he began, then stopped. What could he say? Her pale skin and light 
hair contrasted sharply with his dark coloring. Would the difference in their 
coloring and what that represented in their ways of life be too great an 
obstacle for them to ever overcome? Would she ever be able to look beyond their 
differences and love him as any woman loves her man?
"Chato," she took up where he left off. "We cannot change who we are. I don't 
mean to hurt you. You are a good, decent man, but you're different from me."
"How am I so different from you?" Pointing to his chest he said, "Do I not bleed 
when I am cut? Do I not feel pain when I am hurt? Do I not love the same way you 
do?"
His rising anger scared her and she stood up to walk away from him.
He stood also and grabbed her shoulders to stop her retreat. "Answer me, 
Melanie. Do I not have the same feelings and needs as you?"
Before she could shake loose from his firm, hold, he pulled her against the hard 
wall of his chest and crushed her lips beneath his. His fiery kiss was long and 
deep. When her lips parted slightly under his onslaught his tongue probed the 
sweetness of her mouth and tongue, darting in and out.
The now familiar heat coursed through her veins as tiny sparks of pleasure shot 
through her with each stab of his tongue. Her arms wrapped around him of their 
own volition and this time she didn't even attempt to fight her body's natural 
reaction to his lovemaking.
She was so confused. All she knew was it felt good to he held in this man's arms 
and for the moment she would only feel, not think. She tentatively imitated the 
movements of his tongue with her own and a deep moan was her reward. He 
tightened his hold on her and completely flattened her breasts against his warm 
chest.
His swollen shaft pressed into her stomach leaving no doubt of his intense need 
for her. Knowing she was the cause of that gave her a heady feeling of power. 
This time when his hand moved under her dress it did not stop at her thighs but 
continued until it reached the hot pulsating core of her woman-hood.
She gasped at the intensity of the sensations that splintered through her at his 
touch. Love kept her from stopping him when he lifted her doeskin dress up and 
over her head. When he gently lowered her to the ground, she barely felt the 
buffalo robes brush against her bare back. She loved him, right or wrong. For 
now that was all that mattered to her.
His sharp intake of breath caused her eyes to open. He stared at her bared 
breasts as if worshipping an idol. His dark head lowered and he nibbled at one 
breast and then the other. Her moans mingled with his at the pleasure each was 
deriving from the other.
She arched her back pushing her nipple deeper into his mouth. His loving 
ministrations caused exquisite sensations to envelop her lifting her up and away 
from the reality of the moment.
She moaned in protest when his hot mouth left her breast to travel down over her 
pale stomach. Shock overtook her for a few seconds when his seeking tongue found 
her warm slit. She protested, pushing his head away but he gently removed her 
hand. "Let me love you,cinstinna . I have waited a long time." He clutched her 
buttocks to draw her sweet honey deeper into his mouth and she closed her eyes 
once more giving herself up to the delightful sensations that rocked her body. 
This was sweet torture.
When he raised himself above her once again, she was ready for his final 
assault. Her aching need for him transformed her body into a pliable lump of 
clay for him to mold any way he wished.
She entwined her fingers in his dark hair pulling him down closer to her slender 
body. Passion overcame him then as he thrust into her stopping briefly when her 
cry of pain penetrated his passion-laden brain. This proof that she had never 
lain with a man before pleased him.
She opened her legs allowing him to penetrate more deeply and her soft little 
moans excited him to newer heights of passion as they moved together in the 
age-old rhythm of love.
He felt her shuddering convulsions a moment before his own blessed release took 
him. As the spasms finally ended he shifted slightly to lie by her side gazing 
down in wondrous appreciation at this woman he loved so deeply. Their lovemaking 
had been more beautiful and fulfilling than he ever could have imagined.
Her eyes slowly opened to find him gazing down at her. The banked fire burning 
in his eyes reminded her of the wondrous thing that had just happened between 
them.
"I love you,cinstinna ." His statement did not come as a surprise. Not really. 
Hadn't she in truth felt his love many times? Hadn't she just experienced it in 
his tender lovemaking?
"What doescinstinna mean? You keep calling me that."
"It means Little One."
"Oh."
"That is how I have thought of you ever since that first day I saw you sitting 
so stiff on your wagon. Little but very brave." She was very flattered by his 
special name for her and his compliment.
He rolled her over atop him then. This time his burgeoning manhood came as a 
total surprise. She did not expect his need to be so great so soon again after 
their earlier lovemaking.
Now it was her turn to shock him as her love for him made her bold. She ran her 
fingers along the length of his body and shifted herself slightly to one side so 
she could clasp his swollen member with her hand. His sharp intake of breath at 
her unexpected action left little doubt he was receiving great pleasure from her 
daring actions.
When he could stand her sweet torture no more, he lifted her up and onto the 
full length of his manhood.
She was surprised to feel the stirrings of need again rising within herself 
also. She met him thrust for thrust in an upward spiral of sensations until they 
again climaxed together before making a slow descent back to reality.
They lay side by side, the sweat caused by their furious exertions mingling, as 
their breathing and heartbeats gradually returned to normal.
He held her nestled in the crook of his arm deriving immense satisfaction from 
holding her naked form. He inhaled deeply loving her unique scent. She looked 
like a satisfied kitten laying there, her lids half closed as if still savoring 
the sweet sensations which had wracked both their bodies a short time ago.
She felt his hot gaze on her and closed her eyes against it. It was too soon to 
examine what had just happened between them. She did not want to spoil the joy 
of the moment by thinking too deeply about it right now. She knew there would be 
more than enough time for the inevitable remorse she felt coming. For right now, 
she wanted only to savor the exquisite memory of this night in his arms. She 
would not ruin this precious moment for anything.
Her even breathing told Chato she had fallen asleep. He was now able to enjoy 
looking at her without risking embarrassing her.
Her fragile beauty was heightened during sleep. The lean contour of her neck 
flowed into the perfect fullness of her pink-tipped breasts. Her slender waist 
and the flare of her smooth hips completed the image. Hers was a flawless beauty 
on the outside joined by an inner beauty and depth of character. She was a good 
and kind person even if her skin was white. He could not hold the color of her 
skin against her. He had tried early on but it had been a losing battle.
He wondered if what happened between them would change anything. Had he gained 
her love or only her passion? He had confessed his love for her but she had 
never uttered the words he longed to hear from her lips.
He decided tomorrow would come all too soon and he would have the answers to 
these questions then. There was nothing to do now but make the most of this 
night with the woman who tortured his every waking moment as well as his dreams. 
She was his tonight and right now nothing else mattered.
Chapter Fifteen
Captain Simms regarded the endless expanse of clear blue sky. White puffy clouds 
thudded across the solid azure background. The fort was bathed in golden 
sunshine as men scurried here and there attending to their various duties.
He sighed the sigh of a man who had seen far too much suffering in his fifty-two 
years. The warmer weather would again bring the dreaded Indian raids and 
mindless killings would escalate on both sides.
Private Jones strode up to him, snapping a salute which he immediately returned.
"Telegram, Sir, from Denver."
He took the paper from the outstretched hand of the young
private. A telegram boded ill in these parts. It usually carried a message no 
one wanted to receive. His brow creased as he read and then re-read the message.
TO: CAPTAIN JOSEPH SIMMS
FORT BENSON
COLORADO TERRITORY
JAMES COLTER ARRIVING NEXT SUPPLY WAGONS. WISHES TO ACCOMPANY SEARCH PATROLS TO 
FIND MISSING FIANCEE.
GOVERNOR EVANS
"This is just great. Just what we need. A hotheaded lovesick, inexperienced, 
young pup getting in our way when we go out searching for this crazy girl." He 
shook his head talking as much to himself as to the lanky private still standing 
there. "She's been missing for almost seven months now. I don't believe she's 
even still alive unless Chato found her. She never could have lived through the 
winter on her own."
He lifted his hand to rake it through his thinning hair. "Damn! Aren't things 
hard enough around here without the governor breathing down my neck?" He 
crumpled the telegram into a ball and dropped it on the ground.
"Jones."
"Yes, sir."
"Tell Sergeant Whittacker I want him right away. That's all, Private." After the 
mandatory salute, the soldier bolted away to convey the message to his sergeant. 
The foul mood of his commanding officer added impetus to his steps.
"How many men do you think we can safely spare to search for the girl?"
"Two regiments is about all if you don't wish to endanger the security of the 
fort, Sir."
"Do you really believe that number is sufficient to scour the large area that'll 
need to be covered to have any reasonable chance of recovering Miss Blake?"
"Not really, sir, but what choice do we have? If we use most of our men to hunt 
down this girl, we'll be shorthanded in protecting the supply wagons and the 
defense of this very fort will be at risk."
"I know you're right, Sergeant, it's just Governor Evans is on my back about 
finding this girl. Because she's the intended of his friend's nephew, he expects 
me to move mountains to recover her. I tell you, if this Jim Colter isn't 
satisfied with our efforts on the girl's behalf, all hell's gonna break loose 
from the governor. Perhaps we could spare three regiments," he concluded.
"Whatever you say, Captain." His tone of voice conveyed his disagreement with 
the decision to waste that many men in the pursuit of a lone female.
"Do me a favor, Sergeant. As soon as the supply wagons are sighted, notify me 
immediately. Everything better be in tip-top shape for our unwanted guest. We 
don't need any negative comments to reach the governor's ears concerning this 
fort, now do we? Oh, and spread the word every courtesy is to be extended to 
this man upon his arrival. Our future careers may all rest on Mr. Colter's 
report to the governor."
"Consider it done, Sir." The young sergeant gave his salute and left.
As Captain Simms instructed, he was notified the moment the supply wagons came 
into view of the fort. He took one last glance down at his uniform and, 
reassured that everything was in order, strode to the door of his office and 
stepped out into the brilliant mid-day sun.
He waited until the wagons completely rolled to a stop before stepping up to the 
one who carried the fort's uninvited visitor. The thin man with a head of thick 
blond hair who climbed down from the wagon appeared quite young.
When his proffered hand was not shaken, Captain Simms cleared his throat to 
cover the awkward moment and let his hand fall back to his side.
"Welcome to Fort Benson, Mr. Colter. I'm Captain Simms. I trust your journey was 
a pleasant one."
"So you're the one who's responsible for my dear Melanie's disappearance."
Captain Simm's face flushed with anger at this unfair accusation.
"For your information, Mr. Colter, the young woman whom you are speaking of 
stole one of our cavalry horses and kidnapped a small Indian boy who was being 
held prisoner. She left on her own accord. I hardly think I'm responsible for 
her disappearance."
Jim's face mottled in outrage at Captain Simms vehement words.
"I hardly believe a young woman capable of leaving this fort on her own. 
Especially Melanie. Didn't it ever occur to you she herself may have been 
kidnapped along with the Indian boy?"
"Yes, of course that crossed my mind at the time, but there were no signs or 
evidence to support such a theory. No, I'm afraid your fiancée left of her own 
volition."
"When we locate Melanie and the truth comes out, I'll personally have your hide 
for this. You better pray we find her alive and well. Otherwise, I'll see that 
you're removed from command for incompetence at the very least!"
The two men, both stiff with rage, stared with open hostility at each other. 
Finally, Captain Simms broke the tense silence to order his men who stood 
staring at the heated exchange, back to work. He signaled one of the soldiers to 
show Mr. Colter to his quarters before he turned on his heel and headed back to 
his office slamming the door loudly behind him.
The column of blue-outfitted soldiers wound their way like a long snake through 
the vast Colorado Territory. The terrain impeded their rate of progress. 
Sergeant Jack Whittacker issued the command to dismount and the men gratefully 
complied. The cool stream and shade of the accompanying trees beckoned to them.
Jim walked up to Sergeant Whittacker. "Don't you have any idea where this Injun 
kid's tribe is located? I'm sure they've kidnapped Melanie."
Remembering Captain Simms orders he bit back the retort that rose to his lips at 
the haughty inflection in this man's voice. Instead he forced the most pleasant 
expression he could manage onto his face and calmly stated, "Our best Injun 
scout, Chato, left a few days after your intended's disappearance. Presumably he 
went after her. We haven't seen or heard from either of them since. Our chances 
of finding the Indian village without Chato's tracking abilities are greatly 
reduced."
Jim blanched at the soldier's words. What if this Injun scout had caught up with 
Melanie and was holding her against her will? The thought of a savage touching 
her pure white skin coiled his insides into a tight knot.
"How long are we going to rest?" he impatiently questioned.
"It will do no good to drive these men or the horses to exhaustion. We need our 
instincts sharp if we're to find these Indians before they find us. Have you 
ever seen what a raiding party can do to whites? I for one don't want my scalp 
hanging from a redskin's belt. Go sit by the stream and relax. And be sure and 
re-fill your canteen." He brushed past Jim to see to the filling of his own 
canteen.
Jim reluctantly knelt down near the edge of the stream and dunked his canteen 
under the surface of the cold water. He didn't know what to believe. Would 
Melanie actually leave on her own? Perhaps she had been trying to find the 
ranch. Maybe she couldn't bear the prospect of spending the winter at the fort 
and had struck out with the idea of reaching him before the snows came. But she 
never reached him. Where was she? Was she dead or alive? Could she have fallen 
prey to a group of savages? His mind flooded with an array of possibilities as 
he cooled off near the narrow stream. His dear sweet Melanie. Her angelic face 
seemed to appear for an instant on the surface of the clear water. When he 
reached out to touch the image it disappeared replaced by the laughing, painted 
face of a savage. He instantly retracted his hand from the water's icy surface. 
If they didn't find her soon, he felt he would lose his mind with worry over 
her. The endless possibilities of what could have happened to her were too 
unbearable to even contemplate. He lowered his head into his hands to futilely 
block out the images, which tortured him.
Jack Whittacker's expression softened a little as he watched Mr. Colter. He 
spoke to Private Jones who sat next to him also eyeing up their unwanted 
traveling companion. "I guess it must be pure hell not knowing if the woman you 
love is alive or dead."
"Ya, she was a pretty little thing too."
"Yup. A real looker. But crazy. If you ask me, whatever happened to her is her 
own damn fault. If she stayed where she belonged, we wouldn't have to be 
traipsing all over tarnation, riskin' our own necks now," Whittacker concluded.
"I guess she didn't like the way we treated the little boy."
Whittacker swiveled around to fully face Jones. "Little boy? Are you goin' soft 
in the head? He's a little savage is what he is. And little savages grow into 
big savages."
"But the girl is white," he responded.
Jack shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, Jones. If this girl had been stolen by 
savages I'd gladly scour this entire country until we found her. I'd personally 
enjoy punishing these redskins for daring to touch a hair on her gorgeous head. 
But for Christ's sake, don't you get it? She's an Injun lover!"
"Still, I hope she's all right. I..."
"Let's get movin', soldier. If I were you, I'd save my hopes and prayers for 
myself. With a bunch of Injuns breathing down your neck ya might just change 
your mind about this girl."
Sergeant Whittacker stood up obviously disgusted with Jones' attitude, and 
swiftly strode in the direction of Mr. Colter.
Jim dropped his hands from his head and turned at the sound of footsteps 
approaching, "We'll be moving out in five minutes, Mr. Colter," Sergeant 
Whittacker said.
"I'll be ready."
Melanie stirred and stretched. The dawning of the new day brought the inevitable 
guilt. She could no longer stave off the barrage of thoughts, which assailed her 
mind. She experienced disappointment at finding Chato gone from her side, but 
also relief at not having to face him yet. She needed time. Time to come to 
terms with what had happened between them last night.
How beautiful was the act of love between a man and woman. Her Ma never spoke of 
such things but some of the married ladies who came to call on her mother had 
hinted of a distasteful duty women were called upon to do to satisfy their 
husband's baser natures. She could not reconcile the joyous night of passion 
she'd shared with Chato with a "distasteful duty." Right or wrong this night 
would remain in her memory forever. Chato had made her a woman and nothing could 
ever undo that. She felt irrevocably changed by the events of the preceding 
night and wondered if Chato was similarly affected.
She rolled out from under the thick buffalo robe, which felt much too warm this 
morning, a sure sign Spring was finally here. Her nakedness brought home more 
deeply the reality of what she had allowed to happen. She reached for her dress 
and quickly slipped it on, then rose and left her lodge to head for the river to 
collect some water. All of a sudden the confines of the lodge were stifling as 
the vivid memories of their beautiful lovemaking overwhelmed her.
She was amazed to see everything the same as it always was. Smoke curled above 
the lodges as the women prepared the morning meals. Children ran to and fro and 
a few men busied themselves with their many and varied chores. She wondered if 
what had happened to her last night could clearly be seen on her face. When 
people greeted her in the usual manner, however, she relaxed. No one knew their 
secret. As she wound her way toward the bank of the river she noted the herd of 
horses on the other side of the water appeared smaller than usual. Come to think 
about it, the number of braves in camp also seemed greatly reduced today.
She moved quickly toward Snow Blossom. She would be the real test. If her friend 
didn't notice anything different about her, then she felt sure her secret was 
safe.
"Good morning. You are up early today."
Melanie laughed in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. She had good reason to 
be up early this morning but she could never let Snow Blossom know that. 
Changing the subject she inquired, "Where are all the braves? The village looks 
deserted."
"Bluecoats were sighted not too far from camp and the men are attempting to lead 
them away from us. It is much safer and best if the bluecoats do not know our 
exact location."
Melanie's heartbeat accelerated at this news. What could it mean? Perhaps if the 
soldiers came here they could help her get to the Triple C Ranch now that the 
weather was better. Why didn't that possibility thrill her? She hated these 
ambiguous feelings. All the more after what had happened with Chato, she knew 
she had to get back to her white world and Jim right away. She should not stay 
here with these Indians a moment longer than she had to. She needed desperately 
to be with her own kind again to try and find some sort of equilibrium.
Why, she barely knew what she felt for Jim anymore. Try as she could to make 
herself believe what she had experienced with Chato last night had been wrong, 
she just couldn't bring herself to feel that way. She loved Chato, even if that 
was wrong. What they had experienced had been an act of love. Even though they 
could never have a future together, she wasn't sorry for the beautiful memories 
she would cherish forever. She did feel guilty about Jim, though. As her future 
husband, he should have been the one to take her virginity. She would have to 
leave here right away, as soon as possible, otherwise, she feared she might not 
be able to prevent a repeat of last night and she must not allow that to happen 
ever again. She resolved to ask Chato the minute he returned to camp to please 
take her to Jim as he had promised.
"Melanie, Melanie," Snow Blossom shook her out of her reverie. "What are you 
thinking about so hard?"
"I was thinking it's time for me to leave," she stated honestly.
She read the sadness in her friend's eyes but could find no words to soften the 
harsh reality. She had remained here with these Indians long enough.
Chato found it difficult to keep his mind on the task at hand. As important as 
it was to trick the soldiers into following them far away from the village, his 
wayward thoughts kept returning to Melanie over and over again. The time spent 
with her on her mat had been a soul-shattering experience for him. He still 
remembered the feel of her warm naked body molded to his in a perfect fit as 
though especially made for him. The remembrance of her half-lidded eyes full of 
passion caused him great joy and pride.
Perhaps he should have resisted the temptation of making her his but he was only 
human and he loved her. No man could love a woman more than he loved Melanie. 
He'd given little thought to the possible consequences as he'd spilled his 
life-giving seed into her and realized for the first time he may have planted 
his child deep within her. This startling thought pleased him greatly. He 
briefly wondered when he'd lost control of his heart like some young boy. He'd 
somehow never been the same from the first moment he had seen her sitting so 
proud atop her wagon. All he knew for sure was that she was his. His lovemaking 
had forever branded her his woman. He was certain she would stay now.
He could hardly wait to complete this mission and return back to camp and her 
waiting arms. The love he felt for her was deep and abiding. The forever kind. 
The fact that her skin was pale in contrast to his much darker shade made no 
difference to him any more. He could love her no more deeply and completely if 
she were a full-blooded Indian maiden. She was every bit as brave and honest as 
any of his people's women. He was happy-truly happy for the first time since 
that terrible day of his disgrace. It felt so good to feel this way again-at 
last free of the bitterness which had plagued him for so long. He thought he 
needed no one ever again, but he had been wrong. He needed Melanie.
He heeled his horse then to catch up with the main group of braves as his 
meandering mind had caused him to fall behind working hard on getting his mind 
back on the job at hand. To be lost in your thoughts could be a dangerous thing 
for any man out here. Bluecoats could be waiting in ambush almost anywhere. He'd 
best get his attention centered once more where it belonged- for the sooner they 
accomplished their goal the sooner he could return to the woman he loved.
They had followed the Indians for hours now. The sun would soon leave the sky to 
slip below the horizon leaving blackness in its wake. Sergeant Whittacker heaved 
a weary sigh. He studied the ground for a few more minutes then turned slightly 
in his saddle and signaled Private Jones to move up beside him.
"Do you see these two sets of tracks, Jones?" he asked.
"Yes Sir," he replied.
"They've split up. Now I have to decide if we should split up too or if not what 
set of tracks to follow. I swear, if Miss Blake were here right now I think I'd 
choke her to death with my bare hands."
Private Jones sucked in his breath at these harsh words from Sergeant 
Whittacker.
"You don't mean that, Sir, you're just…"
"Just what? Tired? Ya, I'm tired. Tired of Colter's constant whining and 
insults. No woman is worth all this, especially not this one. What's the use?" 
he ended helplessly.
Sergeant Whittacker raised his hand to halt the troops. As he knew he would, Jim 
immediately spurred his horse to stand beside him.
"What's wrong now?" he demanded.
"The Indians have separated into two different groups. It could be a trick. I've 
seen it before where they double back and regroup. Then they can easily ambush 
one of our groups because our numbers are reduced."
"If we don't split up we won't know which group of braves will lead us to their 
village. We can't have come all this way only to fail now," Jim vehemently 
stated.
"A wrong decision now could spell disaster for my men. But unfortunately, Mr. 
Colter, you're right. This might very well be our best and perhaps only chance 
to locate the Cheyenne encampment. Soon they'll leave their winter camp to 
follow the buffalo.
With no choice in the matter, Sergeant Whittacker issued the order for his men 
to break into two separate groups to pursue the two diverging sets of tracks.
"I'd like to send you with the other group, Colter, but you'd probably get 
yourself killed, so you'll stay with me. We just better all hope that splitting 
up does not turn out to be the wrong decision."
Jim totally dismissed this odious Sergeant's words. All he cared about was 
finding Melanie.
Chato smiled to himself. It worked. It always did. These bluecoats always 
separated if the Indians did. Now they had to lead them a little farther away 
and then completely lose them altogether. He was anxious to be done with it.
Tall Bear rode up to his side.
"Well my friend, your idea appears to have worked. The bluecoats have split up 
as you said they would."
"When you have spent as much time as I did with white men you come to understand 
their ways of thinking. It's not difficult to mislead them," Chato responded.
"If we wanted to, we could easily attack and overpower them."
"You're right, but now with peace desired, it would make no sense."
"I hope my father and Black Kettle know what they are doing. There are many 
young warriors who are not pleased with this decision of peace after all the 
whites have done to us and our homes," Tall Bear frankly expressed his doubts.
"I, too, hope it's the right decision, Tall Bear, but in truth I think it is the 
only decision we can make. Every time our people destroy a fort, two more take 
its place. Their numbers are many; ours are few. What else can we do but try and 
make peace with these invaders?"
"I don't know. All I know is the bluecoats who follow us are lucky. Under other 
circumstances, today would be their last day."
He grinned and raised his arm high in the air, a signal to pick up their speed.
"I think this is far enough from our camp. Now let's lose these bluecoats, my 
friend."
Chato needed no more encouragement. He wanted to get back to Melanie, the 
sooner, the better.
Melanie raced outside when she heard the thundering hooves entering the camp. 
The braves were returning. She breathlessly watched the warriors dismount and 
enter their lodges along with their smiling women and children.
Four days had passed since they first left to protect their homes from the 
soldiers. Her heart began to beat wildly as her frantic search of faces failed 
to reveal Chato. Where was he? A sudden fear clutched her heart. Did something 
happen to him?
She ran over to a returning brave and grabbed hold of his arm.
"Where's Chato, what's happened to him?"
Running Elk turned and looked down at the tiny white girl, surprised by her 
expression. The look of pure panic completely gave her away. She obviously cared 
deeply for Chato.
"He will return with the next group of men," he calmly stated though amusement 
glittered in his dark eyes.
Relief washed over her. She also felt extremely foolish for her over-reaction to 
Chato's absence from the group of returning braves. She smiled her thanks and 
quickly walked away hoping no one else had witnessed her momentary loss of 
control.
Melanie prepared her evening meal while at the same time listening carefully for 
the pounding of horses hooves that would signal the arrival of the second band 
of braves. She wondered why they were taking so long. It had been several hours 
since the first group returned. She knew she was being silly but she couldn't 
help it. After her initial scare, she would not feel completely at ease until 
Chato rode into camp. She laughed at herself deciding she was acting like a 
worried wife awaiting her long, lost husband.
Her head jerked up when her ears picked up the distant rumble of many hooves 
beating against the solid ground. The sound grew louder as the horses got nearer 
and she rushed outside to reassure herself Chato was among these returning 
warriors.
She smiled and waved when she first caught sight of him. He left the main line 
of horses immediately and steered his pinto in her direction. Her usual 
accelerated heartbeat took over. He reined in his horse and jumped off to stand 
directly in front of her, his tall frame towering over her as it always did. She 
tilted her head back to smile up at him. He too smiled down at her with that 
rare smile of his she had grown to love.
"I'm glad you're home." The words slipped out without conscious thought. His 
grin broadened.
"I am glad to be home." All of a sudden an uncharacteristic shyness attacked 
her. To cover the awkward silence that ensued, she asked, "Would you like to eat 
supper with me?"
"Sounds good. I will wash up, take care of my horse, and be right back.
Her eyes followed him until the foliage near the river blocked him from her 
sight. The thought of never seeing this man again constricted her heart. It was 
going to be one of the most difficult things she ever had to do to say the words 
that would cause them to be separated forever, but she knew she must ask him to 
take her to Jim. The longer she put it off, the harder it would be. She entered 
her lodge and stirred the venison stew, awaiting his return with a heavy heart.
Chato kept up a steady stream of conversation all during the meal. She was 
grateful for this because the words she needed to say appeared to be stuck in 
her throat. If he noticed her unusual quietness, he didn't mention it. He seemed 
quite pleased with himself at the trick they used to lead the bluecoats far away 
from this village. She could easily imagine the soldiers' anger when they 
finally realized these Indians had duped them.
She was glad now the soldiers had been led away because after the hatred she had 
witnessed at the fort toward poor Little Arrow who was only a small boy. She 
shuddered to think what these men might do to a village of adult Indians if they 
ever got the chance.
His unexpected question broke into her thoughts. "You are awfully quiet tonight. 
Is something wrong?"
She took a deep, steadying breath. She could no longer put off the inevitable.
"Chato, now that the warm weather is here, I think it's time I left. Remember 
you promised to take me to find Jim? I would like to leave as soon as possible."
He fought hard to keep the shock and pain of her words from reaching his face. 
His insides coiled in agony as a feeling of intense betrayal splintered through 
him. A far deeper sense of betrayal even than the day of his banishment. He felt 
like a part of his body and soul was being ripped away from him and he could do 
absolutely nothing about it. Knowing he had brought this on himself did nothing 
to lessen the pain. He had forgotten the most important rule of survival for an 
Indian. Never trust a white person. Whites could never be trusted. His eyes, 
hard with anger, and his cold silence said more than any words ever could.
"Chato, say something." Silence hung heavy like thick mist.
His only response was to stand and rigidly move to the door.
She ran after him. She had to make him see her side of it. "Please, try to 
understand. Let me explain…"
He was gone. He did not even wait for her explanation. She sank to the floor and 
allowed the tears to spill over her cheeks. She sobbed for the pain she knew she 
had inflicted on this proud man. It had never been her intention to hurt him. 
That was the last thing she ever wanted to do. But she knew from the flash of 
raw anguish that she'd glimpsed in his eyes a second before he shuttered them, 
that she had hurt him deeply.
Couldn't he understand she didn't belong here? Didn't he realize how much she 
needed to see Jim again so she could discover her true feelings for him? She 
hadn't seen him in almost three years. She could barely remember what he even 
looked like. How could she possibly know if she still loved him or not? She owed 
it to Jim to at least be sure, one way or the other, of her feelings or lack of 
them, didn't she?
If she stayed here, she would always wonder if she had sacrificed something-if 
she was missing the life of a white woman. She had to be certain what it was she 
really wanted or she would never truly be at peace wherever she was. All this 
she intended to explain to him but he never gave her a chance.
Melanie walked over to the corner of her lodge, bent down and carefully 
unwrapped the doeskin that held her mother's locket. She flicked it open with 
her thumb and stared at the images of her mother and father.
She had promised her ma she would go to Jim and marry him and she could not bear 
to hurt her mother by breaking that vow. There was nothing else she could do. 
She had to find Jim.
"Oh, Ma and Pa. I miss you both so," she whispered blinking back the wetness 
filling her eyes.
She closed the locket and carefully re-wrapped it in the doeskin and placed it 
back, her heart feeling as if it was filled with lead.
Then she laid down on the buffalo robes and wiped the tears with the back of her 
hands. There was nothing she could do if Chato wouldn't allow her to explain. 
She stared up at a small patch of sky visible through the smoke hole. By the 
darkness, she could tell it was quite late. She had to try and fall asleep even 
though she felt sure that sleep would be a long time in coming this night.
The blood roared in Chato's ears as he sat by the edge of the river oblivious to 
the star-studded sky overhead. In the quiet night air the only sounds were the 
angry splash of the stones he threw into the still water, as if hitting the 
water hard enough would alleviate the hurt that crushed his insides. An 
occasional night bird joined the sound of the rocks splashing into the water.
Who should he be more upset with-himself for being such a stupid fool, or 
Melanie for her deceit? Had the night they spent together in her lodge meant 
absolutely nothing to her? She still wanted to return to her Wasichu! He'd 
actually envisioned her as his wife, her belly swollen with his child. What a 
fool he'd been! Once again he had lost everything because of a white man. How he 
hated these whites. The old bitterness crept back into his heart. White men had 
taken everything of meaning from him-his home, his people, his honor and now the 
only woman he ever truly loved.
He hardened his heart then against the pain threatening to destroy his very 
soul. He had given his word to take her to her white man. He was honor-bound to 
keep it. They would leave the day after tomorrow. The sooner she was out of his 
life, the faster he'd be able to heal from this agonizing wound she had 
inflicted on him. Once again, he vowed he would depend only on himself. Once 
again he vowed never to love anyone. There was less hurt for a man that way.
He rolled to his feet and headed for his lodge. The sooner he could rid himself 
of this aching emptiness the better. The next two days could not go fast enough 
to suit him.
Chapter Sixteen
"Little Arrow, would you come and pick berries with me?" Melanie asked as she 
passed by several children busily playing pretend war games. He looked a bit 
surprised at her request but said a few words to his friends and then linked 
hands with her. The two moved out beyond the immediate camp area and headed up 
the hill.
Her hands felt clammy. She had to tell him she was leaving in the morning and 
she dreaded his reaction.
After her experience with Chato the night before, she had no desire of a repeat 
performance. Melanie prayed for the right words to make him understand why she 
had to leave. She couldn't stand the thought of hurting this child whom she 
loved as if he was her own.
Little Arrow looked concerned. She knew he sensed something was wrong. It only 
made her feel worse when he pointed out the antics of two birds that were loudly 
screeching at each other.
"They sound like White Dog and Tall Woman when they fight, don't they, Melanie?"
She knew he was attempting to make her laugh. She couldn't help but smile at his 
reference to the comical married couple who surely held the camp record for the 
most screaming matches despite the fact they obviously loved each other dearly.
When they arrived at the spot where the wild berries grew, they began filling 
the basket she brought along for that purpose. It reminded her of the day long 
ago when they were stranded out on the prairie nearly starving. A poignant 
tenderness toward this child swept over her and she blinked back the tears that 
gathered in the corners of her eyes. They had been through so much together.
On impulse, she reached over and hugged him. He hugged her back as though 
sensing her deep need to be held by him.
When she finally released him, she could clearly read the question in his eyes. 
She had stalled long enough. Her heart beat erratically as the moment she 
dreaded was here.
"Little Arrow, do you know that I love you?"
"Yes, I love you too." It gladdened her to hear these words from him even though 
she had felt his love many times before.
"Do you remember the day we picked berries out on the plains?"
"Yes. You almost ate the bad ones."
"I didn't know how to tell the difference between the poisonous and 
non-poisonous ones back then."
"You do now, right?"
"Yes, I have learned many new things from your people. Honey...before my wagon 
train was attacked, I was on my way to be married. I have a man waiting for me. 
Do you understand?"
"A white man?"
"Yes. A white man named, Jim. I'm leaving here tomorrow, sweetheart. Chato is 
taking me to the man I will marry. I..."
She stopped short at the look of incredulity that sprang onto Little Arrow's 
face. He jumped up knocking over the basket spilling berries all over the grass 
visibly upset by her unexpected words. "Why can you not stay here? I do not want 
you to go. Why can you not marry Chato?"
"Little Arrow, please try to understand. I'm already promised to another man. I 
can't just…" Before she could finish he turned and raced down the hill. She 
choked on a sob at the look of pain, similar to Chato's that flashed across his 
face a second before he fled from her.
"Little Arrow, come back!" she screamed but her words failed to stop his 
headlong flight. Sinking to the grass she cried till she thought her heart would 
break into a million pieces. She had hurt the two people she loved more than any 
others in the world. Her feelings for Jim were in question at the moment, but 
her love for Chato and Little Arrow was real. It caused her the most heartache 
she could ever remember beside the deaths of her parents. Would this ache ever 
go away? She had to hold on to the belief she was doing the right thing by 
returning to Jim. Otherwise all this pain would be for nothing. She prayed 
Little Arrow would get over missing her someday and have a good and happy life 
without her.
She finally trudged back down the hill with the half-filled basket of berries, 
her heart heavy with the burden of guilt. She hoped one day Chato and Little 
Arrow would both be able to forgive her.
She knew instantly from the sound of his voice something was very wrong. She 
rushed out of her lodge to confront Chato's tense expression.
"Have you seen Little Arrow?" A prickling began at the nape of her neck. It was 
nearly dark.
"I haven't seen him since early this afternoon when we went up the hill to pick 
berries. You mean he hasn't returned?"
"He has been missing for several hours. His playmates said he left with you and 
never came back."
"Oh my God, Chato. I told him I was leaving tomorrow and he got very upset and 
ran away. I called to him, but he wouldn't come back. I assumed he returned home 
hours ago." She clutched his arm. "Where in Heaven's name could he be?"
"I do not know. We are going to search for him now."
"I want to come with you."
"No. Stay here with Snow Blossom." His tone brooked no argument as he strode 
away from her.
A sudden fear seized her. What if something had happened to him? It would be all 
her fault. She couldn't bear it if he was hurt or lost.
She broke into a run heading for Snow Blossom's tipi. When she reached it, the 
Indian girl stood outside. Lines of worry etched her otherwise smooth face.
"Snow Blossom, I'm so worried about Little Arrow. I'm so sorry. It's all my 
fault if anything has happened to him." She could not hold back the sobs that 
wracked her small frame.
Snow Blossom gathered the distraught girl into her arms. "Please do not cry. It 
is not your fault he is missing. Why do you even think such a thing?"
"Oh, but it is my fault. I told Little Arrow I was leaving tomorrow morning and 
he got so upset. He ran down the hill and I just know something terrible has 
happened to him."
Snow Blossom shook her to calm her escalating hysteria. "Listen to me. You did 
nothing wrong. You had to tell him you were leaving. It would have been cruel to 
let him wake up and find you gone. You have every right to return to your 
people. You have the right to be happy."
She swallowed, trying to regain control of her emotions. Snow Blossom actually 
understood her need to leave. She was eternally grateful for the friendship of 
this Indian girl. She needed to hear someone say those exact words to her more 
than she had even realized.
"But, I won't be able to bear it if Little Arrow's hurt. Where could he be all 
this time? Why didn't he ever come home? It's nearly dark."
"Perhaps he is sulking somewhere. You must know he loves you very much and has 
become extremely attached to you. Maybe he thinks he can force you to stay by 
his disappearance. Children can sometimes be very manipulative to try and get 
their own way."
She latched on to Snow Blossom's words of hope. Little Arrow might not be hurt 
but only hiding somewhere. Oh, Please let that be true, she silently prayed. 
Despite her friend's words of reassurance, though, she still felt responsible. 
She wouldn't feel better until Little Arrow was found and she could see for 
herself that he was safe.
"Melanie, sit down. There is nothing you can do. They will find him. He could 
not have gotten very far yet."
Despite her words, Melanie clearly saw worry etched on her friend's pretty face.
"Snow Blossom. Listen. Did you hear anything?"
"Only the wind."
"I can't take just sitting here doing nothing. I'm going outside."
Snow Blossom hurried after her. Once outside, torches were clearly visible in 
the distance.
"They're here," Melanie screamed running in the direction of the lights.
As she neared the returning men, her breath caught in her throat when she 
spotted Tall Bear at the head of the group carrying a still, tiny form in his 
arms.
"Oh, dear Lord, Little Arrow," she whispered. For a scant second she stood 
rooted to the spot, fear holding her immobile. Then she broke free of her 
numbing fear, and ran up to Chato.
"He was bitten by a snake but he is still alive."
Chato's clipped words sliced through her heart. She kept in step with him 
anxiously peering down at the little boy's face. In the light of the torch that 
Chato held she could see his pale coloring. It looked similar to the day when 
he'd been knocked on the head by the butt of Luke's rifle. How many times would 
she have to live through this nightmare, she wondered.
"Melanie, run ahead and tell Snow Blossom to prepare a place to lay him down in 
her lodge. Make sure there is water because he is hot with fever." She was glad 
of Chato's request as it gave her something to do.
Halfway back to the lodge she met up with Snow Blossom who came to meet them. 
Others emerged from their homes anxious to assist in any way needed as word of 
the child's condition spread quickly through the camp.
Several women brought over extra pouches of water to Snow Blossom's tipi. The 
moment Chato and Tall Bear entered the lodge and laid the unconscious boy on the 
robes, she knew this was serious. In the better light she could now see and hear 
his labored, shallow breathing. The whiteness of his face was startling and the 
leg that had been bitten was swollen to nearly double its normal width.
She fought hard to maintain her tenuous control in the face of Little Arrow's 
possible death. The Medicine Man was summoned and when he arrived the room had 
to be cleared of spectators so he could perform his ritual in an attempt to save 
the boy.
Once outside, she breathed deeply of the cool night air, scented with the sweet 
aroma of wild flowers mixed with the lingering odors of cooked food. Chato 
joined her, much to her surprise. She was grateful for his supporting arm that 
curved around her waist.
"What's that man doing in there?"
"He is calling on the Spirits to draw out the snake's venom from Little Arrow's 
body," he quietly replied.
"But, what are those funny noises?"
"They are rawhide rattles. His chants and prayers are designed to attract the 
spirits to come and remove the poisons from Little Arrow and take away his 
fever."
She thought this was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. He needed to be 
bathed with cool water to bring down his high temperature. It sounded like 
mumbo-jumbo to her ears but she dare not insult these Indians by voicing her 
opinion. She only wished he would hurry up and finish this nonsense so she could 
bathe his feverish body.
"Where did you find him?" she questioned Chato.
"On the far side of the river near a large rock. He must have stepped on the 
snake."
The chanting of the Medicine Man droned on for what seemed like hours to her. 
Finally, he left and Chato, Tall Bear, herself and Snow Blossom re-entered the 
lodge. Without waiting for anyone's permission she began to bathe Little Arrow's 
body with cool water. The heat of his forehead burned her palm and she knew his 
fever was great.
Over and over she worked on cooling his skin, hot, salty tears stinging her eyes 
as she listened to his ragged breathing. Two puncture marks could clearly be 
seen on the swollen leg where the snake bit him. She had never known such 
anguish as she desperately fought to bring down his dangerous fever. Snow 
Blossom helped her and the two women worked frantically-racing against time.
Melanie hardly felt the firm hands under her arms that gently lifted her up and 
away from her task, she was so numb from exhaustion.
"You must rest a few minutes. Tall Bear will work on him. You and Snow Blossom 
lay down for a little while."
She tried to protest but her eyelids were already closing as her face felt the 
softness of the robe brush against her cheek as Chato gently pushed her down 
onto the buffalo skins.
Several hours later, assured everything that could be done had been done and 
with Tall Bear sitting watch over his son, Chato wearily walked to where Melanie 
lay sleeping. He bent down and pushed the wisps of golden hair back off her pale 
face. She never even stirred when he lay down beside her.
His last thought was he wanted her to stay more than anything in the world, but 
not at the risk of Little Arrow's life. He drew her close to him then and 
allowed sleep to claim him also.
Melanie awoke with a start feeling a strange heaviness across her waist. When 
she looked down to see what it was she was startled to discover Chato's arm 
draped over her. In a rush, memory returned. Little Arrow. The snake bite. She 
gently pushed the scout's arm off of her and quickly rose to stand and walk over 
to the still form. Snow Blossom sat next to the boy, keeping a vigil.
His chest moved up and down reassuring her he still lived. "Thank God," she 
whispered. To Snow Blossom she said, "How is he?"
"He still has not awakened, but I think he feels a little cooler. What do you 
think?"
She placed her hand on his forehead. "Yes, he does feel cooler. Where's Tall 
Bear?"
"He went to get more water."
"I'll stay with him now if you wish to rest."
Snow Blossom stood up and stretched. "I will go get us something to eat."
"I'm not hungry, thank you," she refused.
"Melanie, I do not particularly feel like eating, either, but we must eat to 
keep our strength up. We will be no use to Little Arrow if we do not."
"All right. You win. I'll try and eat a little." She smiled at her friend. She 
knew the girl was right.
As soon as Snow Blossom left, she turned her full attention back to Little 
Arrow. She began to methodically bathe him with the water. They had to keep the 
fever that raged through his body under control. If they couldn't, he would lose 
his fight for life.
So engrossed in her tender ministrations to the small boy, she was unaware Chato 
had awakened. He remained totally still watching her care for the boy. She could 
easily be a mother lovingly tending to her sick child. She had never looked more 
beautiful. Sunlight spilled down through the smoke hole and caught the 
red-highlights in her hair. Oh, how he wanted her to stay. He knew it couldn't 
be, but here and now watching her like this-she looked like she belonged here.
He chided himself for his foolish thoughts and forced himself to look away. All 
the wishing in the world wasn't going to change the reality. She was leaving. If 
the boy survived, as soon as he was well, he knew she'd walk out of his life 
forever. He better start getting used to it.
He came to her side and stared down at Little Arrow. "Any change?"
"His fever's down a little. That's all," she replied. "Snow Blossom went to get 
some food and Tall Bear is fetching fresh water from the river."
"I will be back," is all he said before leaving.
Melanie, finished with the task of cooling his skin down, held his tiny hand in 
hers. She closed her eyes and offered a prayer of her own that God would spare 
his life.
Little Arrow hovered near death for three days, the four taking turns to keep 
vigil. Melanie and Snow Blossom tried to force some liquid made from rabbit stew 
between his parched lips. He needed the fluid and the nourishment. The swelling 
on his leg subsided quite a bit but his coloring was still not good.
Chato explained to her how Little Arrow must have sucked out some of the venom 
with his own mouth and spit it out onto the ground. He told her Indian children 
were taught to do this from an early age. If he had not done that, Chato 
informed her he would have been dead by the time they found him.
Chief Lone Bear came to the lodge several times to stare down at his grandson, 
and although he remained stoic, Melanie glimpsed the suffering in the old man's 
eyes. She knew it caused him much pain to see his grandson so gravely ill. 
Whenever he visited she could not meet his eyes because of the quilt she felt 
over Little Arrow being so sick.
It hurt so bad to watch him lying there completely helpless. If only she had run 
after him or, at the very least, told someone right away when he had left so 
upset.
She met Chato's eyes over Little Arrow's head. They were seated on opposite 
sides of where he lay. Little Arrow's small hand rested in her larger one. It 
still felt slightly warm but thankfully nowhere near as hot as it originally 
had.
Melanie wished she knew Chato's thoughts. His attitude had softened a little 
toward her. She supposed his sympathy for her suffering and their shared concern 
for Little Arrow temporarily blotted out his anger.
She lowered her eyes, feeling self conscious under his intense stare, to look 
into the dark brown of Little Arrow's. "Little Arrow, you're awake!" She could 
hardly believe his eyes were opened after so many days. Relief flooded her 
heart. He would live-she was sure of it now.
"I thought you left, Melanie." His voice sounded raspy and weak but he 
continued. "I had a dream that I woke up from a long sleep and you were gone."
"No, honey. I'm still here. I've been so worried about you." Tears clouded her 
vision and she blinked them away. "Please, Little Arrow, promise me you'll never 
run away like that again," she implored him.
Chato stood and spoke to him. "You did a good job of spitting out the poison. 
But you must never again stray so far from camp. Your father and aunt have been 
out of their minds with worry. I will go tell them that you are awake."
He left then, leaving her alone with Little Arrow.
"Are you still leaving?"
"Hush, sweetheart. You need to rest now, don't talk."
But he persisted. "I want to know, Melanie, please tell me the truth."
She didn't know how to respond. "Not right away, honey. I want to see you 
completely well before I go. Little Arrow, please try to understand. I gave my 
word to this man that I would come out here and marry him. I also promised my 
mother. Would you have me go back on my word and my promise?"
She could see the indecision on his face. Keeping one's word and promises were 
very important to Indians. She had learned this from living here with them all 
these months. A person's honor depended on the truth of his words and pledges. 
Little Arrow knew this. Finally, he spoke.
"But I thought you and Chato were in love. I saw you kiss once."
Her cheeks reddened. She had been unaware he ever saw them embrace.
"I do love Chato, honey, but I gave my word to my fiancé, Jim."
A noise drew her attention to the flap as the subject of their conversation 
stepped in. "Snow Blossom is bringing you some food. Are you hungry?"
"A little. Chato, do you think Melanie has to keep her word to this white man?"
At the unexpected, blunt question, she raised her eyes to Chato's face. There 
was a dead silence in the lodge.
"Melanie has to do what she believes is right," he stated.
She was shocked. When she first told him of her desire to leave he acted like he 
hated her. Now he seemed not to care at all if she left. She knew she should be 
happy he accepted her leaving so well now, but she wasn't sure which was worse: 
thinking he hated her or thinking he didn't care one way or the other what she 
did.
The arrival then of Snow Blossom and Tall Bear gave her no more opportunity to 
dwell on Chato's words. She enjoyed the sight of Little Arrow eating and 
drinking on his own for the first time in three days. Although still weak he was 
definitely out of danger and on the mend. At last she could fall asleep tonight 
knowing he would not die during the night.
Little Arrow continued to improve each day. Over three weeks sped by before 
Melanie even realized it. She knew that soon she would have to broach the 
subject of her leaving again with Chato. The idea terrified her. After 
everything that had happened the first time she had brought the subject up, she 
was in no way looking forward to another scene with the magnetic scout.
Things were so pleasant between them since Little Arrow regained consciousness, 
she hated to do or say anything to spoil it. Each day she put it off.
She was more than a little surprised when Chato, himself, brought up the subject 
of her departure. He stepped out of Chief Lone Wolf's lodge just as she passed 
it on her way to the river. He fell into step beside her.
"Melanie, there is something you and I need to talk about."
"What is it? Is anything wrong with Little Arrow?" She heard the worry in her 
own voice. Lately that was about all he ever discussed with her.
"No, no. He is coming along fine. I just spoke to Chief Lone Wolf. He asked me 
to accompany Tall Bear and some of the other braves to go and speak to Black 
Kettle at his village. We will be gone about ten days."
She looked at him, not sure what he expected her to say. When she didn't comment 
on his news, he continued. "That means, that I will not be able to take you to 
the ranch until I get back."
"I understand, Chato. That's all right. I'll have almost two more weeks to spend 
with Little Arrow." What else could she say? If he had to do this, he had to.
He looked relieved. He must have expected her to be upset about the delay. She 
didn't dare tell him her immediate reaction had been joy. How could she explain 
to him when she didn't understand herself why she was glad for the excuse to 
stay a bit longer? Her emotions, so distorted lately, really worried her. Would 
they ever be right again? When she should feel sad, she felt happy; when she 
should be happy, she was sad. It was a mystery to her.
"I will be leaving at first light tomorrow morning. If you need anything while I 
am gone, ask Snow Blossom or Chief Lone Wolf."
She smiled to herself. Snow Blossom yes, but it would have to be a dire 
emergency for her to ever go to the chief for help. Although he was always nice 
to her, he intimidated her terribly.
Chato left her then to return to his lodge to prepare for his upcoming trip. She 
continued on toward the riverbank.
Chapter Seventeen
Exhaustion overtook Melanie and she plopped down on the ground and paused to 
rest for a few minutes. Since Chato's departure, she'd kept busy every waking 
hour. It was the only way to keep the sense of loss that threatened from 
swallowing her up. The first few days she caught herself looking for him, before 
she remembered he was far away. This was the way it would be once she returned 
to Jim. She'd have to deal with the reality of never ever being with Chato 
again. The thought tore her apart.
She waved to Little Arrow out playing for the first time since his brush with 
death. "Thank you, God." she whispered. She thought he was the cutest little boy 
in the whole tribe as she watched him run and jump with several other boys, 
obviously completely recovered.
She glanced in the direction from which Chato would return. Only endless waves 
of green prairie grass swaying back and forth in the gentle breeze greeted her 
eyes. She would be happy to see Chato again, but his return would also mean the 
end of her time here and the end of their time together.
Suddenly the heat of the sun beating down on her bare arms, penetrated her 
senses. The shade offered by the thick trees surrounding the river, beckoned to 
her so she stood up and hurried toward the foliage to escape the sweltering sun. 
The cool swim she and Snow Blossom had planned appeared more inviting by the 
minute. If the temperature was any indication, she decided it must be 
mid-summer. When Chato returned, she'd ask him what month it was.
The high pitched wailing startled her.
She had lain down late in the afternoon to escape a throbbing headache, and now 
rubbed her eyes to cast off the grogginess that still claimed her. What was that 
strange sound? It sounded like women screeching and crying!
Instantly alert, she rose and lifted the flap to peek out. Her blood ran cold at 
the sight that confronted her eyes. The men had returned. But something was very 
wrong. People ran in all directions shouting and screaming. She saw several 
braves being helped from their horses. Why can't they get down by themselves?
Then, to her horror, she saw the reason. They were hurt! Blood covered their 
arms, chests, and legs. Her eyes searched wildly for Chato as a chilling fear 
gripped her. She ran to get a closer look and the color drained from her face 
when she spied several horses being led with blanket-covered bodies draped over 
their backs.
Some of these braves were dead. But how? Why? The blood pounded in her ears as 
she arrived near the frantic scene. The wailing and weeping of the women grew 
much louder and she covered her ears against these pitiful sounds of grief. 
Women cried over dead husbands, sons, and brothers. How could this happen? Who 
killed these men? Questions bombarded her brain as she desperately struggled to 
make sense out of this nightmare.
She recognized Small Raven, one of the women who was always friendly to her 
whenever they met at the river. She moved toward her and grabbed hold of her 
arm. When the girl looked at her, she shouted.
"What's happened? Who did this?" The girl's stony face stared back for a minute. 
Then, she answered.
"White men did this. The enemy of my people. They killed our men."
Melanie drew back as if slapped. She ran then, blind panic driving her on. She 
had to find Chato. Oh, please, he can't be dead-he can't be. As she ran among 
the wounded and the dead, the faces of the people all looked the same. A 
coldness settled over her heart as she clearly read the hatred for her kind on 
their faces. All of a sudden, she felt different from these people. Now they 
looked at her with enmity in their eyes.
Tears welled up in her eyes at the senselessness of this bloodshed. Now she had 
seen brutal murders committed by both sides. Mother of God, would the killing 
and hate never end?
A strong arm pulled her out of the main throng of people and a sob of joy 
escaped her throat at the welcome sight of Chato. He was all right. He wasn't 
dead. She smothered him with her tight embrace, at that moment, never wanting to 
let go of him ever again.
He held her close not offering a word, simply allowing her the comfort of his 
powerful arms. She knew he was aware of her anguish. She could always depend on 
him. He had a way of always being there whenever she needed him. And she needed 
him now. Her shoulders heaved with the loud sobs that shook her entire body. 
Only when she could at last control her tears and find her voice once again, did 
she ask.
"What happened, Chato? Please tell me."
"We were on our way back from Black Kettle's village. A group of soldiers 
ambushed us. We were greatly outnumbered. Tall Bear tried to tell them we were 
peaceful, but they just kept shooting. Four warriors were killed and several 
wounded."
She felt stunned by this story of the Indians being attacked without any 
provocation. She inspected Chato from head to foot with her eyes to reassure 
herself he was not hurt. Satisfied he was completely unharmed she tentatively 
asked, "Is Tall Bear all right?"
"Yes, but Black Eagle was slightly injured on his shoulder. I am sorry, Melanie, 
I cannot stay with you any longer. I must speak to Chief Lone Bear and see to 
the wounded braves and the families of the slain warriors."
Melanie reluctantly moved aside, dazed and confused. She didn't want to let him 
go yet but she knew she had to. His people needed him now more than she did.
Numbly she moved among the crowd offering help but her attempts were met with 
open hostility. She knew that somehow they held her responsible for the carnage. 
She wanted to scream at them that she was not to blame. She deplored this act of 
violence every bit as much as they did, but she held her tongue.
They were suffering and grieving for the unnecessary loss of their loved ones. 
She pitied them and understood their pain. Hadn't she hated all Indians after 
the massacre of her wagon train until Little Arrow and Chato came along and 
showed her a totally different side to these people?
Since they would not accept her help, she could only watch their sorrow, 
sympathy for their pain filling her heart. She spotted a woman wailing and 
slashing at herself with a knife. As she watched in growing horror, the 
hysterical woman began chopping off her long flowing hair.
Blood dripped from the self-inflicted cuts all over her arms and legs. Why 
doesn't anyone stop her? She wondered. To her even greater astonishment she 
spied two other women doing the same thing. This had to be common as not one 
person attempted to halt this bizarre behavior though these women cut themselves 
right out in plain view of every-one.
Not able to stand the tragic scene another minute, she turned and ran back to 
her lodge. The pain in her throbbing head was nothing compared to the ache in 
her heart.
Grief. Anger. Hatred. Gone were the happy sounds of celebration. Gone was the 
laughter of people playing games. Gone was the everyday chatter of a contented 
and peaceful people. The atmosphere pervading the camp, following the attack on 
the warriors, was charged with emotion. Tension filled the air.
For the first time, other than the early days of her arrival here, Melanie felt 
uncomfortable in the presence of these people. Although most did not seem to 
hold her personally responsible, she herself felt the weight of shame for the 
totally unprovoked violence and death caused by her own kind.
She stayed close to her lodge and even inside of it a good deal of the time. She 
saw to her daily needs quickly at the river each day and did not dally there 
long. The sorrow of these people was hard to watch. She missed the happy smiles 
she used to receive from most of them.
Along with the melancholy that had settled over the village, there was also 
great turmoil. Some of the younger, more hotheaded warriors wished to retaliate. 
They wanted no part of making peace with their white enemy. The heated debates 
raged each night as the old and young braves clashed in their views.
Chato informed her Chief Lone Wolf continued to argue for restraint. In spite of 
the deceit of the white man he still favored the path of peace. He wished to 
join with Black Kettle in seeking protection from the white men's governor. He 
wanted his people to settle along the creek with the Cheyenne of Black Kettle's 
village and the Arapahos under Left Hand's leadership, to try and end the 
hostilities once and for all.
From the vantage point of her lodge Melanie watched the braves begin to settle 
around the huge fire in front of Lone Wolf's tipi.
The warmth of the day had given way now to the coolness of night. Melanie gazed 
around the camp circle. With the sparks flying from smoke holes and light 
shining faintly through tipi walls, it was a beautiful sight. The calm serenity 
of this scene belied the great division pervading this camp. A refreshing breeze 
blew a wisp of gold hair across her eyes. She pushed it away and strained her 
eyes in the direction of the large fire until her gaze rested on the one face in 
the crowd she sought. Melanie had seen little of Chato over the past several 
days. He was deeply involved with Chief Lone Wolf in attempting to convince 
these fired-up braves of the futility of escalating this war with the white men.
Turning her gaze from Chato, she looked up into the velvet blackness of the 
night sky. Bright spots of light twinkled and sparkled, helping the moon 
illuminate the inky darkness. Such a beautiful night, she mused. A perfect night 
to walk with someone you love in the silver light cast down by the full moon 
suspended amid the splendor of the stars. She could picture herself walking 
with…whom? Chato? Jim? She had no idea anymore whom she wished to walk with on a 
moonlit night such as this one. She felt so confused.
The murmur of loud, angry voices drew her attention back to the warriors seated 
around the fire, their faces visible in the dancing light of red and amber 
flames. She sighed deeply. Might as well go back inside. This was obviously 
going to be another long night for the men who attempted to decide the future of 
this Cheyenne camp.
The steady beating of drums awoke her. She immediately sprang to her feet, 
alarmed. There had been no drums on the previous nights when the warriors met. 
Stepping outside she saw much more activity than usual at this late hour. Men 
milled around in small groups speaking in hushed tones. Some looked content, 
while others glared at each other, anger and disappointment clearly evident in 
their expressions.
She felt sure they had reached some resolution. Uncertain of what to do, she 
stayed where she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Chato's face. Knowing he 
favored peace, she'd be able to determine from his expression, what had 
transpired.
She jumped when a figure emerged to her right out of the darkness. The soft 
approaches of these people always unnerved her.
The silhouette of Snow Blossom outlined against the red glow of the distant 
fire, was a welcome sight. Here was one person she still felt completely 
comfortable with.
"Snow Blossom. Must you always sneak up on me like that?" she admonished.
"I am sorry. I do not mean to. It is our natural way of walking. We are trained 
to move that way from childhood."
"Have they reached a decision? What're they going to do?"
"Black Eagle just told me peace with your people has won out. We will prepare to 
leave this place and journey to the creek bed where Black Kettle and Left Hand 
make their home. Black Eagle said Black Kettle has sent a letter to your 
Governor Evans asking for a meeting with him and some of our chiefs to talk 
about peace." She smiled.
Melanie impulsively hugged the Indian girl. "Let's both pray it is so. I can't 
stand any more of these mindless killings of innocent people, whether they be 
yours or mine."
"Will you be coming with us to our new camp or will you be leaving?"
"I don't know. I'll have to talk to Chato. Have you seen him?"
"He was talking earlier with Tall Bear and Black Eagle over near my father's 
lodge. I will walk over with you to see if he is still there, if you want me 
to."
"Thanks. I'd feel better with you nearby. I think some of your people hold these 
killings against me." The hurt she felt over this was evident from her tone of 
voice.
"I do not think that is true. They are just grieving for their losses and they 
are angry at the world. They know you are not responsible for what others of 
your kind have done-just as you did not hold us responsible for the attack and 
deaths of those on your wagon train."
Melanie appreciated Snow Blossom's kind words but she knew many here did blame 
her for being white. She read the condemnation in their eyes. Even now as they 
walked along, several people turned their backs to her. But she tried hard not 
to be affected by it. She couldn't completely blame them.
"There they are, over there."
She followed the direction of Snow Blossom's eyes and spotted Chato standing 
with his back to her, between Black Eagle and Tall Bear. Even with his back to 
her, he had the ability to set her heart to racing.
The three, tall, handsome braves turned almost in unison to face them as they 
approached. Melanie knew her steps were noisy compared to the nearly silent 
tread of these Indians.
Chato left his two companions and motioned for Melanie to accompany him as he 
walked a short distance away. When she stood beside him, he said, "I am needed 
to help with the move to the place your people call, Sand Creek. Black Kettle 
and Left Hand are camped there already. As soon as my lodge is set up, I will 
take you back to your people. That is what you still want, isn't it?"
He speared her with his eyes. She knew he waited for her answer. She swallowed 
with difficulty. What did she want? She wasn't at all certain she knew anymore. 
Shakily she replied with the only answer she could give.
"Yes. I need to be with my own people again, Chato. Please don't be angry with 
me."
"I am not angry with you." His voice had no inflection. He sounded so very 
tired. She peered up into his dark, fathomless eyes.
No, she thought, he no longer looks angry. But deep sadness still shone in the 
depths of his dark brown eyes and seeing him like this tore at her heart.
"Actually, it is on our way-in the same direction we will be heading anyway." He 
stared down at her for a few seconds longer, as if he wanted to say something 
more. She waited, silently, expectantly, but he only said, "You had best try and 
get some sleep. We will be leaving here early."
He moved away from her and a great feeling of loss descended upon her. His anger 
was easier to bear than this heart-rending sadness. Slowly she walked to her 
lodge noting most of the people had now disbursed and were entering their own 
tipis. She wondered if they missed their camps when they relocated or whether 
they had grown so used to it that it didn't matter at all to them that tomorrow 
they'd be leaving their home.
When she settled herself on the lighter, softer furs she preferred now with the 
warmer weather over the heavier buffalo robes, she watched the pale light filter 
down through the smoke outlet. Memories of her younger days back in Virginia 
with her mother and father besieged her mind. That part of her life seemed like 
it had occurred millions of years ago. So much had happened to her since then.
All of a sudden, she felt much older than her twenty years. She wished she could 
turn back time and start all over again. No, that wasn't entirely true. She 
wouldn't have missed meeting Little Arrow or Chato for anything in the world. 
Along with all the heartbreaking things she had witnessed, she had experienced 
so many beautiful moments too. She felt enriched by the love of Little Arrow and 
the friendship of Chato, Snow Blossom, and many of these Indians. She hoped 
knowing her had brought something more to their lives also. Was there some 
divine purpose for all this or had it simply been an accident of fate?
Too tired to try and sort it all out right now, she only knew for certain that 
her time with these people was coming to an end. A new chapter in her life was 
about to begin. She prayed she was ready for it.
The speed and efficiency of dismantling the Indian camp left Melanie breathless. 
Everyone helped. Horses were loaded down with all their belongings. The poles 
used to support the lodges were lashed with rawhide and piled onto travois 
pulled by horses or in a few cases by dogs. Some people walked, but the old, 
sick, or very young were all mounted atop ponies.
As they rode out of camp, Melanie, finally allowed to ride a horse of her own, 
turned back for one final look at the place which had been her home for almost 
nine months. A nostalgic wave of feeling washed over her. Many cherished 
memories had been made in this camp. Although she knew she would never see this 
place again, it would always be special to her. She had found something here she 
never planned on finding. She had become a woman in Chato's arms in this place.
When she turned back around, she found Chato, riding beside her, intently 
watching her. Did he share her sentiments about leaving this camp? Was he, too, 
remembering the night of lovemaking they had spent together in her lodge?
She stared straight ahead, fearing he could read her thoughts in her eyes. The 
ribbon of Indians stretched as far as her eyes could see. They were all on the 
brink of a new life. Hopefully, peace awaited them at the end of their journey. 
She prayed an inner peace awaited her at the end of hers, as well
The perspiration trickled down between the valley of her breasts tickling her. 
The heat of the afternoon sun felt unmerciful today as they plodded along. She 
swallowed in an attempt to rid her mouth of the gritty taste of the trail dust. 
The air smelled of buffalo grass and wild flowers and the prairie stretched out 
in front of them ending in the far distance with towering snow topped mountains. 
The white peaks touched the crystal blue of the sky appearing cool in contrast 
to the unrelenting heat of the plains.
Melanie's eyes found Chato, who rode to her right. Why didn't he ever look hot? 
She wondered.
This, their third day of travel since leaving the others at Sand Creek was no 
different than the other two. They got up at first light, then rode hard only 
stopping occasionally to rest the horses. It seemed to her as if Chato couldn't 
wait to be rid of her. They had only stayed at Sand Creek for two days.
Her mind slid back to those two days spent at Black Kettle's camp. It was so 
big. She had thought Chief Lone Wolf's village had been large. This camp was 
three times that size!
The tipis extended all along the wide bend of the creek. It looked like a nice 
place to live and she hoped these people would find peace and happiness there.
She remembered how she had helped Snow Blossom put up her home and spent both 
nights with her in her lodge. She did not dwell on her good-byes to Little Arrow 
and Snow Blossom. Those memories were too fresh and too painful.
Instead, she snapped her attention back to Chato. "Aren't you even hot?" she 
asked him.
He looked at her, a smile curving his lips. "Why? Are you warm, Melanie?"
"Yes. I've never been so hot in all my life," she exclaimed. She hated to be a 
complainer but she didn't think she could survive much more of this broiling 
heat without a break. She felt like she was literally melting.
"We should be coming to a stream soon and a ranch. It could even be the Triple 
C."
Her eyes widened at his words. She searched the landscape looking for signs of a 
ranch. She saw nothing but endless grass. But by now, she knew better than to 
question his judgment. If he said they were close to a ranch, they were.
All of a sudden the magnitude of what he'd just said hit her. She might actually 
be with Jim by nightfall. A panicky feeling assailed her and for the moment, 
anyway, the intense heat of the day was forgotten.
Two days and the same number of ranches later, she and Chato camped for the 
night. The cool breeze brought relief from the grueling sun they had endured for 
five days running. The terrain had changed slightly since the afternoon, she 
noted. More trees were scattered throughout and water was more abundant. Rock 
formations dotted the area too, which meant more places to find shade when they 
rested the horses. She had finally learned to control her pony better and to 
mount quickly as Chato instructed her each day.
Chato appeared especially somber tonight and she wondered what was wrong with 
him. He spoke to her only when he had to. She kept quiet also. Soon they'd be 
separated, though, so she hated this stony silence that had sprung up between 
them. He laid out the sleeping robes, said a curt good night and turned his back 
on her. She fought the tears that threatened at his sudden remoteness toward 
her. There was nothing to do, however, but lie down on her robes and try to fall 
asleep.
She lay on her back gazing up at the sky. The moon she admired earlier in the 
evening was almost completely obscured now by a thick dark cloud covering. The 
usual brilliant stars were also absent from the sky tonight. Already she missed 
Little Arrow. She knew he would be well taken care of by his father and Snow 
Blossom, but she still couldn't stop herself from worrying about him. Had he 
gotten over his sadness at her leaving by now? She hoped so because it pained 
her to think she had caused him any more hurt. That little boy had been through 
more than enough trauma for his six short years. To be kidnapped by an enemy 
tribe, hit over the head by Luke's rifle, stuck out on the prairie alone with a 
strange white girl, locked up in a prison fort, and bitten by a poisonous 
snake-he'd had more than his share of bad fortune. He deserved only good things 
from now on. Suddenly she needed to tell Chato something despite his chilliness 
toward her. Moving to face his back she said, "Chato, are you sleeping yet?"
He rolled over and looked at her. "No, why?"
"I want you to promise me something. Please promise me you'll help Little Arrow 
to forget about me and to be happy. Will you?"
He sucked in his breath. She never made things easy for him. He needed to keep 
her at an emotional distance, knowing any one of these ranches could be the 
right one. He had to be mentally prepared for that imminent moment. He 
concentrated on her white traits and how she could never be happy with his 
Indian life and here she lets him know that her thoughts at this very moment are 
back with his people.
Her voice broke through his thoughts. "Did you hear me?"
"Yes, Melanie, I will take care of Little Arrow. He will be fine. Do not worry 
about him anymore."
"Chato?"
"Yes, Melanie?"
There's something I don't understand."
"What is that," he asked.
Why is Black Kettle, a Cheyenne, camping next to Chief Left Hand when he is 
Arapaho?"
"The Cheyenne people and the Arapahos have long been friendly and often join 
forces to fight the whites."
"Oh," she replied." "What about the Teton Sioux, are they friends with Little 
Arrow's Cheyenne too?"
Chato sighed. Why was she so concerned with his people when she was about to 
return to her Washichu world?
"Yes, my people too stand together with the Cheyenne nation and the Arapaho 
nation to hold on to their homes. Now try and get some rest."
"But don't forget about Little Arrow," she reminded him.
"I will not forget."
"Thank you, I feel better now. Good-night," she said for the second time that 
evening.
He rolled back away from her. He was glad she felt better. He sure as hell 
didn't. How was he supposed to help Little Arrow forget about her, when he 
himself was having such a hard time imagining a life without her? Just lying 
here now with her only a few feet away from him was pure agony. He wanted 
nothing more than to reach over and pull her into his arms and make love to her 
all night long. He fought a war within himself, as every night, to keep from 
holding her and loving her and making her forget all about the white man she was 
returning to. Damn. Why had he let his guard down? He never should have let 
himself fall in love with her. Soon. Soon this torment of having her so near yet 
not being able to touch her would be over. A small voice inside his head mocked 
him. It said, soon a worse torment would replace this one. The torment of going 
through the rest of his life without her.
They awoke to a gray, overcast morning. Thank goodness she didn't have to face 
the scorching sun today. Glancing over at Chato's scowl, she didn't know which 
looked more forbidding-the dark sky or his bleak expression. A storm appeared to 
be brewing in both.
She climbed onto her horse and diligently followed him away from their campsite. 
An hour later, a streak of jagged light in the sky off in the distance and the 
low rumble of thunder signaled the approaching storm. Chato scanned the area 
quickly, obviously looking for a safe place to wait out the upcoming storm.
"Follow me," he shouted as he heeled his pony into a faster gait. She did the 
same not relishing the thought of being stranded out in the open during a 
lightening storm. As she rode along the wind whipped against her cheeks and 
hair.
The first drops of rain landing on her face felt cool and refreshing. But after 
a couple of minutes, they pelted her skin and before long she was completely 
soaked. Her hair hung heavy on her back, wet all the way through. She strained 
her eyes to follow him, the violence of the sudden summer storm impeding her 
sight. As thunder and lightening crashed all around her, she became frightened.
"Melanie, over here, quickly." She heard Chato calling to her, his voice 
carrying over the wind. She steered her pony in his direction. When she reached 
the rock formation she slowed her horse to an abrupt stop and he reached up to 
pull her swiftly off its back. She could see he was as soaked as she was.
Once under the overhanging protection of the large boulders, she sank to her 
knees beside him to catch her breath and still her racing heartbeat. She glanced 
at him to find him looking at her. The intensity of his gaze startled her. 
Looking down at her wet clothes, she saw the way they were plastered against her 
body. She felt the warmth of color rise to her face at his heated expression.
Seeing her embarrassment snapped him from his passion-filled stare. He was sure 
she had no idea what she did to him sitting there in her soaked dress. The 
outline of her rigid nipples could clearly be seen and her wet clothes revealed 
every lush curve of her body to him. The refreshing smell of the rain in her wet 
hair combined with her own unique scent assaulted his senses. He forcibly turned 
away. Hot desire for her was pumping through his veins. He didn't need this now. 
Just when he had gained control over his wayward thoughts, this new temptation 
was almost his undoing. He watched the raging storm feeling the storm that raged 
inside him was of no less intensity.
The two sat there, neither breaking the strained silence, while the summer storm 
ran its course. As soon as the rain completely ended, Chato stood up and 
signaled her to mount up. As last they could continue their trek. Although the 
storm lasted no more than half an hour, it seemed like an eternity to the two 
people who had waited it out beneath the shelter of the rocks.
Home from his discouraging trip to Fort Benson for only two weeks, Jim Colter 
raced from the barn into the ranch house as the first rain drops began dropping 
from the sky. He took off his hat and tossed it. It landed perfectly on the peg 
in the hallway designed for just that purpose. He walked to the kitchen door and 
opened it to find Lucinda busily preparing the evening meal. Her full hips and 
rounded buttocks beneath her wide skirt drew his eyes as always. She was a real 
sore spot with him. Though he tried everything to gain her attentions, she 
always evaded his advances and pretended she couldn't understand English.
He suspected she knew a lot more English than she let on but he couldn't prove 
it. She always avoided being alone in a room with him and continually sought the 
presence of his aunt or uncle to get away from him, he was sure of it.
She was alone right now in the kitchen and he intended to take full advantage of 
that fact. Walking softly, he sneaked up behind her. He reached out and patted 
her ample buttocks. "Hello, Lucinda."
Startled, she dropped the spoon she was stirring the soup with and abruptly 
turned to face him.
"Señor Colter." He did not miss the nervous way her dark eyes darted around the 
room looking for an escape.
"Call me Jim," he invited. "There's no need to be so formal. I want to be your 
friend."
"No comprendo," she said, sliding to her right in an obvious attempt to get away 
from him.
He effectively cut off her escape route by placing his left hand on the edge of 
the dry sink.
"Por favor, señor," she pleaded to get by him.
"Come on, Lucinda, stop playing these games. I want us to be good friends. 
There's no reason why we can't be. You must be as lonely as I am, a beautiful 
girl like yourself here without any man to love you." He reached out with his 
other hand and placed it on her large breast squeezing the soft flesh.
Her shocked intake of air preceded the slap she delivered across his cheek at 
his bold actions. The imprint of her hand, first white, then turning red, could 
clearly be seen on his right cheek.
Anger and frustration assailed him at her rejection. "You no good teasin' slut," 
he ground out. "You should be grateful for my attentions. You'll be sorry for 
this. Someday, when we're completely alone here, I'll show you what it feels 
like to have a real man, I'll…"
His words trailed off as he heard footsteps nearing the kitchen door. He jumped 
back away from the slightly plump but definitely well-endowed Mexican girl.
At the sound of his aunt's voice, he swiveled to face her.
"Oh, there you are, Jim. Your Uncle Robert is waiting for you in the study. He 
says there's some news from Denver concerning the Indians. He thought you might 
be interested.
"Thanks." He smiled his most ingratiating smile to cover what just happened with 
Lucinda, and headed in the direction of the kitchen door. Before completely 
leaving the room, he turned and shot Lucinda a warning look, then continued on 
toward his uncle's study.
Jane studied the young girl's face. A frown creased her forehead.
"Lucinda, is anything wrong? You look a bit pale."
"No, nada, señora Colter," she said brightly, turning back to concentrate on 
preparing the soup.
Jane stared at the girl's back for a few moments, then with a shrug of her 
shoulders, left the room.
Jim found his uncle seated in his favorite overstuffed chair reading the 
newspaper. Whenever one of them made a trip into Denver, they always brought 
back a copy of The Rocky Mountain News so they could catch up on the latest 
happenings.
The older man looked up as his nephew entered. "Jim, come in and sit down. Some 
whiskey?" he offered.
"Ya, I could use some today," he answered, as he sat down across from his uncle. 
"Aunt Jane told me you had some news concerning the savages." It was more a 
statement than a question.
His uncle pointed to the newspaper that he laid on his desk so he could pour his 
nephew a glass of whiskey. "It's all right there. Some Indians, believed to be 
either Cheyenne or Arapaho, ran off some stock from a ranch about ten miles 
outside of Denver a few weeks ago. In retaliation, a troop of soldiers attacked 
a band of Cheyenne and killed a number of braves and wounded several more."
"That'll show those redskin bastards," Jim vehemently stated taking the whiskey 
from his uncle's outstretched hand. He gulped it down in one swallow handing it 
back to the elder man for a refill.
"Take it easy, son," Robert warned his nephew. "Rough day, huh?" he added in a 
gentler tone.
"Every day's a rough day since those idiots at the fort have no way of finding 
Melanie. I still can't believe how easily tricked they were by those Injuns. I 
tell you, we rode for days on a wild goose chase. I still think John should have 
that Simms character removed from his command at that fort. He's a bungling 
fool."
"Calm down, son. It'll do you no good to get yourself worked up like this. John 
Evans is a damn good governor. He knows what he's doing. Those soldiers are out 
searching every day. Any time now we'll get the break we need. If Melanie's 
still alive, they'll find her."
Jim drank his second glass of whiskey a bit slower. He didn't mean to worry his 
uncle. He knew he had done everything possible to see that his friend, John 
Evans, kept up the heat so the army would not stop searching for Melanie. He was 
very grateful to Uncle Robert for this. It just galled him to think some 
stinking savage might be ravishing his beautiful Melanie somewhere and there was 
not a damn thing he could do about it. His hopes of ever recovering her had 
plummeted following the failure of his trip to Fort Benson.
His eyes strayed to the window. Flashes of lightening followed by loud claps of 
thunder did nothing to still the storm that brewed inside of him. Here it was 
almost the end of July and still there was no word about her whereabouts.
Jane called the men to dinner then, putting an end to their conversation and 
thoughts. Jim's inner turmoil matched that of nature's turmoil outside as he 
made his way to the dining room.
The morning after the fierce rainstorm, the sun returned in full force. Despite 
the warm temperature, Melanie preferred this to the rain. The raw passion in 
Chato's eyes during the rainstorm had brought back all her intense feelings and 
attractions for him. She felt disloyal to Jim and tried hard to push them away 
and bury them deep inside of her.
The tense silence continued all day with Chato only speaking to her if she asked 
him a direct question or if he needed to tell her something important. There was 
no friendly chitchat between them.
"We are coming up to another ranch," he quietly stated. She squinted ahead to 
try and make something out but as usual whenever he made these announcements, 
she saw nothing.
"It is on the other side of that hill."
"Oh. Do you think this one might be it?" Even to her, her voice sounded scared.
"Could be. We will know when we reach the top of that rise."
Like the other times they had sighted ranches, her mouth suddenly went dry and 
her insides felt like they were turning upside down. She didn't want to be so 
nervous, but she couldn't seem to help it.
They rode on in silence, each suffering in their own way. She was frightened and 
excited at the same time. He was tense and anxious wondering if this would 
indeed be the end of his time with this girl whom he loved as no other.
When they crested the hill, down below stood several buildings, corrals, 
stables, barns, and a nice size, neatly kept, ranch house. It was late afternoon 
and the sun was beginning its descent from the sky. It glowed down on the homey 
scene.
He urged his horse forward down the gently sloping incline stopping near a tree 
and then dismounted. She did the same, coming to stand beside him. They both 
read the name of the ranch at the same instant. The CCC Ranch.
His time with her was over. A crushing weight constricted his heart. In a matter 
of minutes she would walk out of his life forever and he was powerless to stop 
her.
In a voice laced with pain, he said, "This is it, Melanie."
The pain in his voice tore at her heart. She didn't want to leave him. A 
terrible premonition that she was doing the wrong thing swept over her. What 
should she do? She didn't want Chato to leave. But she'd promised her mother and 
Jim.
Tears flooded her eyes at the prospect of never seeing Chato again. She was 
scared. Deathly afraid of life without him. She had been dependent on him for 
the last nine months.
He read the indecision in her eyes sparkling with tears and a tiny spec of hope 
flared deep inside him. He pushed it away. To hope again would mean even greater 
heartbreak later on. She looked so frightened though, like a little girl.
All of sudden, he couldn't leave it like this between them. He pulled her into 
his embrace and smothered her lips with his own. He could feel her heartbeat 
against his chest. In that instant he knew his life would never be the same-not 
without her in it.
When he finally released her, tears streamed down her face. He wiped them away 
with his thumbs. "Do not cry,cinstinna . I cannot stand to see you cry. I hope 
you will be very happy here with your people once again." Those had been the 
hardest words he'd ever had to say. But he meant them. He did not wish for her 
to be unhappy. He only wished she could have been happy with him and his people.
"I'm going to miss you and Little Arrow so much."
"No more than we will miss you."
"I'll never forget you or all you've done for me. Please be happy, Chato." The 
tears continued to slide down her cheeks.
"Do you wish to keep the horse as a gift?"
She looked at the spotted pony that had brought her to this place. She wanted to 
keep him to remember this time in her life, the time spent with the Cheyenne 
people.
"Oh yes, thank you. I'll take good care of him."
Chato reluctantly watched her mount the pony feeling the weight of the world 
press in on him. He committed every detail of her appearance to memory. After 
today, he knew that would be all he would have of her-only a memory.
In a flash he reached up and pulled her back down from the horse's back. He 
couldn't let her go yet. His arms encircled her and he looked deep into her tear 
glistened eyes.
"Melanie, always remember this. I love you." He smothered her again with his 
searing kiss.
She felt the same stirring she always did when he held her like this. Indecision 
assaulted her again and could be seen clearly in her eyes when he released her.
Seeing this doubt was his total undoing. Against his better judgement, knowing 
full well he only begged to be hurt once more, he said, "I want you to promise 
me you will meet me right here by this tree two moons from today when the sun is 
just showing its face. I want to hear from your own lips that you are happy with 
your people and wish to remain here. Will you do that for me?"
"Yes, Chato. I'll be here," she promised. All of a sudden, she felt a little 
better. If she were not happy here after two months, she wouldn't have to stay. 
Even more than that, this meant that today would not be the very last time she 
would see him after all. She smiled through her tears and again, mounted her 
pony. This time, he made no move to stop her.
"Good-bye, Chato."
"Good-bye, Melanie."
She slowly made her way down the slight incline toward the buildings below. 
Majestic mountains stood outlined against the pink sky beyond the ranch. This 
would be her new home, she thought. She turned back once to see Chato still 
silhouetted against the sky at the top of the hill. When she reached level 
ground she turned back again. He was gone.
Chapter Eighteen
"Oh my word! Bob, Jim, come quick!" Jane stared out the kitchen window. A woman, 
dressed like an Indian squaw, was riding up to the front door of their house. By 
the light color of the girl's hair it was apparent she was not Indian, but 
white.
Robert burst into the room. "What in tarnation are you shouting about? What's 
wrong?"
"Look." She pointed out toward the front yard.
"Sweet Jesus," he proclaimed. He ran back through the kitchen door, down the 
hall and out the front door just as the woman reined her horse to a stop. 
Melanie saw the older man, astonishment written all over his slightly lined 
face. Behind him came a woman she assumed was his wife.
A nervous smile creased her face as she looked down at these two strangers. 
"Hello. I'm Melanie Blake. I'm looking for my fiancé, Jim Colter."
"Melanie, you're alive."
She turned to the familiar voice and face which suddenly appeared behind the 
older woman framed by the front door. The look on Jim's face was one of complete 
astonishment.
"Don't just stand there gawking all day, son. Help her down from her horse," 
Robert shouted at his immobilized nephew.
Jim moved quickly. He reached up and helped her down off her pony, embracing her 
tightly, still not quite sure she was real. When he was certain this was not a 
dream, he let go of her and stared down at the same beautiful face he 
remembered. But her clothes and hair. Where did she get those awful clothes? She 
looked like an Injun squaw! How did she find her way back? After all this time, 
after all their searching for her she was here. His eyes examined her for signs 
of injuries but thankfully found none.
"Where in the world have you been all these months? We've searched everywhere 
for you. I've been out of my mind with worry. And why are you dressed in this 
ridiculous outfit?"
"Jim, give her a chance. She must be exhausted. There'll be plenty of time for 
questions later," Jane interrupted. The gray-haired woman stepped up to Melanie 
and took her hand in her own.
"I'm Jane Colter, Jim's aunt. We're so happy you're safe. And we're glad you're 
here now. Why don't you come inside and get settled."
Melanie smiled warmly at the plain, nondescript woman, grateful to be saved from 
Jim's interrogation. She would have to answer his questions eventually, but 
right now, she didn't feel up to it.
She walked beside Aunt Jane pausing when they reached the older man. He extended 
his large hand to her and she shook it. He introduced himself as Uncle Bob and 
welcomed her to the Triple C Ranch after which they all went into the house.
Jim stood just inside the door. He had a million questions he needed to ask her. 
He didn't even know where to begin, but for now they would have to wait. His 
aunt was right. Melanie was obviously tired and she looked a little nervous.
Melanie appreciated Jim's aunt and uncle's kind and friendly manner and some of 
her apprehension faded. As she glanced around at her new surroundings, her first 
impression of this ranch house was that it was very roomy, neat, and clean. 
After the clutter and coziness of the Indian's homes, this house appeared 
extremely large to her.
A slightly plump, but very pretty girl, called Lucinda, was summoned and 
instructed to show her to her room. Melanie followed the attractive dark skinned 
girl to a room situated at the very back of the house. Melanie was glad for the 
reprieve from the questioning looks she'd been receiving from the three people 
in the living room. Soon enough she would have to speak of the time spent with 
the Cheyenne Indians. After the emotional turmoil she had experienced up on the 
hill with Chato, not long ago, she was in no hurry to relive those days right 
now.
Lucinda smiled at her and she immediately decided she liked this girl. She had 
honest eyes and in a strange way reminded her of Snow Blossom, though physically 
they looked nothing alike. The bedroom they entered was cheerful; a good size 
canopy bed filled one corner of the gold and green colored room. A small window 
on the far wall looked out toward the breathtaking mountains she admired earlier 
from the hill.
"Would the Señorita like a hot bath?" the girl offered in very good English.
"That would be wonderful," she answered. A bath! She hadn't had a hot bath in 
months. She almost forgot what it felt like. Then she remembered something. 
"Lucinda, could you please see that someone takes care of my horse?"
"Certainly, Señorita."
"Call me Melanie."
The girl looked surprised but she smiled.
"I just thought of something. I have no clean clothes to put on after my bath."
"That is no problem, Señorita...Melanie. I'll lend you something of mine, if you 
wish."
"Oh, that's kind of you. Thank you"
Both girls smiled at each other and Lucinda left to get the hot bath water. 
Melanie sat down and ran her hand over the soft, full bed. It felt strange after 
the buffalo robes. Well, she thought, there was no turning back now.
Melanie soaked in the hot water and scrubbed away the grime of the trail with 
lavender scented soap. The warm water soothed the aches and tension of the long 
trip. She felt as if she had died and gone to heaven. This was one luxury she 
had definitely missed. It was hard to believe she hadn't had a real bath since 
she'd left Virginia so long ago. She had to admit, though, that the baths she 
had taken in the cold river at the Indian camp had been surprisingly refreshing. 
She had actually grown used to them after a while, but this was a real treat.
A knock at the door drew her eyes in that direction. "Who is it?"
"Lucinda. I have some clothes for you."
"Come in."
The Mexican girl deposited on the bed a full white skirt with a wide ruffle 
across the bottom. The matching blouse sported a similar ruffle along the 
gathered neckline. A green ribbon trimmed both ruffles adding a touch of color 
to the otherwise starkly white outfit. It was simple yet very feminine.
"I hope these will fit you. They've become a little tight on me."
Melanie hoped they would fit, also. Lucinda's overly endowed body was quite a 
bit larger in most places than hers, though their height was about the same. The 
girl also placed a large towel near the tub. Reluctant to end this delicious 
feeling, she knew it was time to get out. Used to bathing with the Indian women 
present she stepped out without any self-consciousness and wrapped the towel 
around her. She squeezed out her long hair into the water. The comb Lucinda 
brought was vastly different than the one made of bone that Snow Blossom had 
lent her, but it effectively removed the tangles in her long flowing hair.
Lucinda left then allowing her privacy to get dressed. As she dressed in several 
layers, including undergarments and petticoats, she decided she definitely 
preferred the Indian women's much simpler style of dressing.
The skirt came almost to the floor. But since it was gathered at the waist it 
did fit. The blouse, although a touch too big across her chest fit well enough 
after she tucked it into the waist of the full skirt. At first she couldn't make 
up her mind whether to braid her hair as she was used to doing or whether she 
should allow it to hang loose down her back. Finally, she decided to allow it to 
flow free.
A mirror above the chest of drawers beckoned to her and she turned around and 
around more than a little amazed at her own reflection. The face that stared 
back at her looked different than what she remembered. Her skin, darker now, 
made the green of her eyes stand out more. Also, she looked thinner-no not 
exactly thinner-firmer was a better word to describe it, she thought. She wasn't 
sure exactly what it was but there definitely was some subtle difference about 
her reflection in the mirror.
She turned away from the beveled-edged mirror and walked to the window. The 
mountains made a beautiful sight. Unable to prevent it, her thoughts turned to 
Chato. She wondered if he had made camp for the night yet as it was almost dark 
now. A pang of loneliness struck her but she took a deep breath and forcibly 
pushed it aside.
In another part of this house was the man she loved. The man she had left 
Virginia to reach over a year ago. The man she had promised her mother she would 
marry. Thoughts of him should be filling her mind now, not Chato. She decided 
she would make a conscious effort not to think about the Indian scout. She would 
concentrate on Jim from now on.
Melanie's stomach fluttered nervously as she arrived at the dining room. Jim and 
his uncle stood up from the table when she entered. Aunt Jane pointed to a chair 
directly across from Jim, indicating she should sit there. All conversation 
stopped when she slid into the wooden chair. Both men stared openly at her and a 
crimson flush stained her cheeks. An unexpected comparison, between now and the 
first day she entered the Indian camp rose to her mind. Why did she always feel 
like she was on display everywhere she went?
Thankfully, Jane rescued her once again from this newest discomfort when she 
began reciting a prayer and the men were forced to close their eyes and bow 
their heads. Not only did the woman give thanks this evening for the food they 
were about to receive, but also for the safe return of Melanie. Once grace was 
offered, everyone began to eat.
Melanie pushed the food around on her plate, too uncomfortable amidst these 
strangers to eat very much. She cast shy glances at Jim every so often. To her 
dismay, he too seemed almost a complete stranger to her. Why did she feel this 
way? She reassured herself she needed time to get re-acquainted-that was all. 
She certainly hoped so, because right now the thought of marrying this man she 
had not seen in so many years terrified her. Jane's soft voice cut into her 
thoughts.
"Dear, do you feel all right? You're hardly eating. Don't you like beef?"
"It's very good. I'm just not hungry tonight, that's all. I'm sorry." She felt 
she should apologize for her lack of appetite.
"I guess that's understandable, dear, after everything you must have been 
through."
"Melanie, what exactly have you been through? Where did you get that Injun pony? 
Were you held somewhere against your will?" Jim's questions startled her.
"Please, not at the supper table," his aunt admonished him.
"Sorry." He looked sullen, almost like a small child who couldn't have his own 
way. Melanie knew the minute dinner was over she would have to answer these 
questions.
She wasn't wrong. As soon as Lucinda cleared the apple pie from the table, Jim 
stood up and crossed to her side of the table.
"Come outside on the porch with me for a few minutes," he invited as he took her 
hand in his. Reluctantly she allowed herself to be led out of the house. When 
they were both seated on the wooden swing for two, he pressed her for answers.
"Why did you leave the fort, Melanie? Were you kidnapped?"
"What ever gave you that idea? No, I had to leave. The soldiers said they 
couldn't help me get here until the spring. I..."
"And you couldn't wait, right?" He knew it had to be something like that. She 
ignored his interruption and continued.
"There was this young, Indian boy, named, Little Arrow. He was only five years 
old." She missed the stiffening of his body at her words. "Do you believe, they 
actually locked him up in a prison like a criminal? I couldn't leave him there. 
Those soldiers were never going to return him to his family."
His face had turned white at her words. "Are you telling me that you really did 
leave that fort on your own because of that Indian?"
"Why, Jim, I had to. I had to take the little boy home, he wasn't safe there."
"He was a savage, Melanie. Why should you care what they did to a stinking 
savage kid?"
He could barely believe what she said. Captain Simms was right after all.
She jumped back away from him as if she'd been slapped. He was actually 
referring to Little Arrow as a stinking savage kid. His attitude appalled her. 
Her mind scrambled to find the right words to make him understand.
"He's only a little boy. You don't mean what you're saying."
Looking at her pure, innocent face, he realized she probably hadn't lived out 
here long enough around these red devils to understand their real barbarous 
natures. Poor, sweet, Melanie. She was just too naíve for this wild country. 
He'd simply have to protect her. Even from her own soft-hearted self. He took a 
deep breath and patiently, as though speaking to a child, began to explain some 
things he believed she needed to know in order to be accepted as his wife out 
here.
"Listen to me. You have to forget about these Christian feelings you have toward 
these Injuns. They're not like us. They're savages without souls. They murder, 
steal and scalp people for no reason. That little boy might have looked harmless 
but someday he's gonna get big and he'll be murdering and scalping white people 
the same as the rest of his kind. You can't protect these animals or feel sorry 
for them. It's them or us. Do you understand?"
A horrified look clouded Melanie's face. No, she thought, Jim was wrong. She had 
lived with these people. She knew his words simply weren't true. They had cared 
for her like she was one of their own!
Jim could see she was becoming extremely upset so he sought to change the 
subject. He didn't want their first night together, after so long, to be 
spoiled.
He took her small hand in his larger one and gently pulled her up to her feet as 
he got to his.
"Come on, sweetheart. Let's take a walk. I'll show you around the ranch."
Thank goodness she did not have to continue their previous conversation right 
now. She knew she'd have to work hard on changing his mind about the Indians. 
His kind of thinking was exactly what caused all the misunderstandings between 
the two groups. For the first time, she realized just how ignorant the whites 
out here were about the true nature of these Indians. It was obviously not going 
to be easy to change these long-standing opinions of them.
As they strolled along the ranch yard, hand in hand, Melanie looked up at the 
luminous moon, which bathed the area in an iridescent glow. Unbidden, the image 
of Chato streaked across her mind. She wondered if he at this exact moment might 
be looking up at the very same moon.
Stop it, she told herself. Concentrate on Jim. With a renewed effort, she pushed 
the scout's face from her mind and asked. "What's that building over there?"
"That's the stable. Let's go inside. I want to show you the horse I've picked 
out for you to ride."
It pleased her that he had selected a special horse for her, but personally she 
liked the mottled pony she'd ridden in on. She dared not tell him that, though, 
so after they entered the stable and stood in front of a sleek black mare that 
he indicated was the one, she tried hard to sound enthusiastic.
"She's beautiful. What's her name?"
"Black Star and she's very gentle. She'll be perfect for you."
Melanie reached up to rub her hand along the raven mare's long neck. The horse 
stood there obviously enjoying the attention. His gift touched her and she tried 
hard not to make comparisons between this horse and the one given to her earlier 
by Chato.
"Thank you. She does appear very calm."
"A gentle horse for a gentle, pretty lady." He spoke huskily as he turned her 
toward him and circled his arms around her waist.
"I've missed you, Melanie. You're even more beautiful than I remembered."
She knew he was going to kiss her. His lips touched hers lightly at first and 
then slowly the pressure increased. She waited for the familiar stirrings to 
begin in her body but to her complete surprise she felt nothing but the gentle 
pressure of his lips.
He drew back and studied her. He knew he must control his ardor because he 
didn't wish to frighten her by rushing her. Time was needed to re-establish 
himself in her life. He knew that. Patience. He would have to have patience. But 
it was damn hard. Her mouth was soft and sweet. Holding her and kissing her had 
been a dream he'd held inside of him for years. Ever since she agreed to join 
him out here and become his wife he had been carrying this moment around with 
him for a long time. And now she was finally here. It was no longer just a 
dream.
She sensed the deep hunger within him for her touch but for some unknown reason, 
she hoped he would not kiss her again. She supposed it was because they needed 
more time to learn to know one another again. After awhile, she felt sure her 
feelings for him would return and then she would welcome his kisses. Thankfully, 
he didn't try and kiss her again but instead took her hand and led her over to 
where the spotted pony stood.
"Who's horse is this? How did you get it? Please, tell me everything. I need to 
know where you've been all these months." The entire story, from the tragic 
massacre of her wagon train to the moment she had ridden up to his front door, 
spilled from her lips. She honestly related everything, leaving out only her 
love for Chato and the night they had spent together in her lodge.
The whole time he maintained a stony silence but his eyes revealed several 
emotions. He appeared pale when she concluded her astonishing tale. A dead 
silence followed her explanation. Finally, he broke it.
"You actually spent over nine months with those savages?" He looked incredulous.
"Jim, please don't call them that. They're no more savage than you or I."
"You can't be serious. If you could have seen the mutilated bodies on display in 
Denver only a few weeks ago, like I did, you'd change your mind mighty quick."
He misunderstood her sharp intake of breath. "Yup, only savages could do that to 
innocent settlers."
"You mean they actually put dead people out where everyone could look at them? 
That's horrible."
"They want to make sure everyone knows what these savages are capable of and to 
be certain there are no Injun-lovers among those of us who live here. Be careful 
what you say to people out here. I know you're kind and feel sorry for these 
animals, but people might get the wrong idea about you if you defend them."
She could hardly believe her ears. He was telling her she could not freely 
express her true opinion of the Indians she had lived with for more than nine 
months. He actually expected her to keep quiet when these untrue things were 
said about Little Arrow's tribe? It was impossible. She couldn't do that-not 
even for him.
It suddenly occurred to her that she'd never given any thought to Jim's reaction 
to her having lived with the Indians. How could she have been so dumb? She 
should have anticipated his being upset. Once she, herself, would have been more 
than a little shocked to hear about a white woman living with savages. But that 
seemed a long time ago. She could barely remember the girl she used to be. So 
much had happened to her since then. Wisely, she kept silent for right now. She 
didn't wish to argue with him tonight. Tomorrow she'd try and make him see there 
was another side to these people.
When he took her elbow and escorted her from the stable, she was relieved. They 
headed back to the house in awkward silence.
As soon as she entered the parlor where his aunt and uncle were seated, she 
excused herself, begging exhaustion, and hurried to her room. She immediately 
lay down on the soft mattress and closed her eyes. She didn't want to think 
about anything. All she wanted right now was to escape the harsh realities of 
life out here. She prayed sleep would claim her quickly.
The sun shining in through the window awoke her. Melanie rubbed her eyes in 
sleepy disorientation for a couple of seconds until the events of yesterday and 
last night seeped back into her consciousness. Climbing out of the huge bed she 
padded over to peer out the window. The ever-faithful mountains appeared 
splendid in the early morning sunlight. Briefly she pictured the Cheyenne 
encampment and the daily morning activities of its inhabitants. The women were 
most likely at the river washing their clothes at this very moment. She wondered 
if any besides Snow Blossom had noted her absence these past several days.
She berated herself for these silly, sentimental musings. That part of her life 
was over now and she must stop dwelling on it like this.
Straightening her shoulders, she resolved to face the challenge of her new life 
head on. She needed time to grow to care for Jim enough to want to spend the 
rest of her days as his wife. With this new resolve, she washed quickly and once 
again donned Lucinda's white and green skirt and blouse. She had no shoes other 
than her moccasins, so she slipped them on.
As she traveled down the long hallway, the smell of cooked eggs and coffee 
wafted in the air. Muted voices came from the kitchen and she headed in that 
direction. The door was ajar and she spotted Aunt Jane and Lucinda talking in 
the middle of the room. They both looked up as she entered.
"Good morning, Melanie. Did you sleep well?" Jane asked.
She smiled at the older woman, "Yes fine, thank you. Looks like I overslept," 
she stated eyeing the dirty dishes in the sink.
"That's perfectly all right, dear. I didn't want to wake you. I knew you must 
have been very tired from your long trip."
"That I was. But I feel much better today."
"Good," said Jane.
"Would you like me to cook you something for breakfast, Melanie?" The Mexican 
girl spoke for the first time.
"Lucinda! She is Señorita Blake, to you." Jane's reproving voice sounded shrill 
after the previous pleasant conversations.
Melanie laughed and informed her, "Why it's perfectly all right. I told her to 
call me Melanie."
Jane looked disapprovingly at her. "It's not proper for the hired help to 
address you so informally. Would you like eggs?" she finished, changing the 
subject entirely.
"No, thank you, I'm not hungry."
Melanie thought this whole thing ridiculous. People should be allowed to address 
her anyway she wanted them to. Lucinda and her were about the same age. However, 
she didn't wish to upset this prim and proper lady, so she tactfully said no 
more on the subject. Instead, she asked a question.
"Where's Jim?"
"He and his uncle already left for the day. Running a ranch such as this one 
takes a good deal of work and they leave quite early every morning. You'll get 
used to it after awhile."
Jane glanced down at her feet, then, and appeared to notice her moccasins for 
the first time. She motioned to Melanie to follow her out of the kitchen and 
into the parlor away from Lucinda. Melanie trailed after her wondering what was 
so secretive that Lucinda couldn't hear. When they were both settled in the 
room, Jane said in a hushed voice.
"Jim told us last night after you'd retired about all you've been through. You 
poor dear having to live with those savages like that." She looked down at her 
feet and a look of distaste came onto her plain face. "We must do something 
about getting you a pair of decent shoes. We can't have you walking around in 
those awful things."
"Why, I made these moccasins myself and actually they're quite comfortable."
Melanie couldn't decide if she should laugh or cry. She had painstakingly sewn 
these moccasins with her very own hands. She thought they were beautiful. A 
flush rose to her face along with resentment.
"The Indians treated me very well, so there's no need for you to feel sorry for 
me or to call them savages." The words came out through lips tight with anger 
though she tried hard not to be rude or disrespectful to this older woman. It 
was not her intention to fight with these people but their unfair attitude 
toward the Indians was really beginning to grate on her nerves. Instead of 
asking her about her experiences there, they simply assumed the worst.
Aunt Jane appeared shocked by her brief outburst and Melanie immediately 
regretted it. Perhaps she should just learn to keep her mouth shut and wear 
whatever the woman wanted her to wear. Was it even worth it to try and correct 
their misconceptions concerning the Indians or was she only wasting her time and 
unnecessarily upsetting everyone in the process? She was beginning to feel as 
confused here among her own kind as she had felt back at the Cheyenne camp.
"Dear, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that you're living here now, not 
with those sav...people anymore. You should dress like a proper young lady." For 
the sake of harmony, Melanie relented.
"Whatever you say, Aunt Jane. I don't mean to appear ungrateful to you for all 
your kindness toward me, but I do think there are a lot of misconceptions about 
these Indians that are getting in the way of us ever being able to make peace 
with them."
"Peace! These people need to be punished for the atrocities they have committed. 
You haven't been out here very long, dear. Once you've lived here awhile, you'll 
understand better. I'll go see if I can find you a pair of shoes that'll fit. 
You're so petite, I'm sure mine are going to be much too large. Peace indeed." 
She continued muttering to herself and shaking her head back and forth as she 
left the room leaving Melanie exasperated.
They all treated her like a dull child who couldn't quite grasp the true facts. 
Why didn't anyone ever give her any credit for understanding the way things 
were? She'd had to listen to lectures on her inexperience from Captain Simms, 
Chato, Jim, and now Aunt Jane. She clenched her hands at her sides. "You're the 
ones who don't understand," she told the walls and furniture. She stood there in 
these unfamiliar surroundings feeling completely out of place. How could this be 
happening again to her? Lately, everywhere she went, nothing ever turned out the 
way she had anticipated it to. She thought she'd be happy being reunited with 
Jim. She was sure she would feel she was back where she belonged. But instead, 
most of the time, she wished she had never left the Indians.
She sighed a long deep sigh. Maybe she just expected too much, too soon. She 
needed time to adjust. She determined to try and overlook the criticisms she 
constantly heard about the Indians. Slowly, she'd find a way to change their 
minds about Little Arrow and his people. She was sure of it.
Feeling a little bit better with these new thoughts, she crossed the room and 
headed toward the kitchen. All of a sudden, she felt ravenously hungry now.
Chato sat on his horse looking down at the peaceful, quiet scene. All along the 
wide bend the white eyes called Sand Creek, stretched lodges as far as his eyes 
could see. His heart was anything but peaceful though as memories of days and 
nights spent with Melanie plagued him every step of the way back home. Home. It 
was strange that he even felt like this was his home but thanks to her, he did. 
There was no joy in him at this moment, however. It was as if, when she left 
him, joy and peace had gone with her. He felt completely empty inside.
The sound of a horse approaching shook him from his melancholy thoughts. He 
turned to watch Tall Bear ride toward him. When the warrior stopped directly in 
front of him, he greeted him.
"It is good to see you, Chato. There is news since you left us."
"Good news, I hope." He spoke these words from his heart.
"That depends on where you sit with regard to peace with the white men. My 
father and Black Kettle are pleased. I reserve judgement until I see whether the 
whites can keep their word."
"What was promised this time, my friend?" Chato's tone of voice clearly 
expressed his doubts the enemy could be trusted to keep their word.
"My father, Black Kettle, and several other chiefs met with the white man's 
Governor. He promised as long as we camp near the fort, we are considered to be 
at peace and will be protected. Black Kettle even brought home the white men's 
flag as proof of his promise."
"That does sound like good news, but I share your concerns. The white men have 
made many promises to our people only to break them later. We will have to wait 
and see if this time it will be different."
"It is good to have you back. My son will be pleased to see you also."
Chato was anxious to see Little Arrow too, but although, happy to be back among 
his people, something was missing. He knew exactly what it was-Melanie.
The two braves slowly made their way together back into camp. Chato hoped in 
time the peace and joy that prevailed in this village right now would eventually 
return to his heart also.
Chapter Nineteen
Butterflies danced in Melanie's stomach as she sat cross-legged on her bed 
waiting for Lucinda to return with her pale, green, silk dress. "Please let 
tonight go well," she whispered her prayer.
The Colters had invited several friends and neighbors to a dinner party to meet 
her and for Jim's sake she wanted to make a good impression on these people.
She tapped her fingers against one knee, too nervous to sit still. As she 
waited, her mind wandered back over the past three weeks that had amazingly sped 
by. She had worked hard at fitting in here and at keeping her Irish temper in 
check.
A trip to Denver for some new clothes had helped break the monotony of days 
spent with Aunt Jane while Jim and Uncle Bob went about the duties of running a 
large ranch. Most evenings she spent getting re-acquainted with Jim out on the 
front porch swing where the night breezes brought welcome relief from the heat 
of the house. Most of the time she enjoyed his company well enough, as long as 
the subject of the Indians didn't come up. That was still a sore spot between 
them. If there was no special spark to their relationship, Melanie chided 
herself for having read so many novels. This was real life, not some romantic 
story in a book. She completely ignored the tiny voice inside which reminded her 
Chato's presence created sparks and he was real life, not a character out of a 
novel.
She endured Jim's kisses in small doses always ending the contact when he 
attempted to deepen them, convincing herself until they were married, she was 
simply acting properly. Again, she ignored the memory of her night of passion 
with Chato. These remembrances were best forgotten.
The quick knock on the door startled her and she jumped. Get control of 
yourself, Melanie. It's only Lucinda.
"Come in."
The Mexican girl strode into the room, the elegant garment draped over one arm. 
Jim, himself, had picked out this particular dress. Melanie thought it was very 
pretty but the décolletage made her a bit uncomfortable. Jim insisted it was 
fine and she gave in when Aunt Jane assured her it was proper and exactly what 
all the young women wore these days. She bowed to their judgement since fashion 
was the last thing on her mind these days.
"Would you like me to stay and help you dress, Melanie?" Lucinda used her first 
name only when no one else was present. It was their secret.
"I don't think I really need any help in dressing, but stay and keep me company. 
I'm afraid I'm a little nervous about tonight."
"You have nothing at all to be nervous about. You will be the most beautiful 
woman in the room-and the kindest."
Melanie was grateful for the vote of confidence from this young woman who she 
now considered a friend. Too bad she didn't feel this comfortable with Jim or 
his aunt and uncle.
As it turned out, she did need Lucinda's help in getting into all the trappings 
she was forced to wear. She now thought these articles of clothing silly and 
frivolous. She never could have managed the long row of tiny buttons, which ran 
along the back of the dress from the neckline all the way down to her hips. Once 
completely buttoned into the dress, she stood before the mirror and studied her 
reflection. As before, the image of the young woman staring back at her had an 
unreal quality to it. She raised her hand to touch the soft swell of her breast 
exposed by the low cut of the neckline unused to walking around with so much 
flesh revealed. Still, she had to admit, she felt pretty in this shimmering 
gown. She twirled around and around causing the voluminous skirt to swing out 
with a swooshing sound.
"You look muy hermosa, Melanie, just like I said you would. The green of the 
gown perfectly matches the color in your eyes. And your hair. It looks wonderful 
with this shade."
She smiled at the girl's compliments. "But should I leave it down or put it up? 
What do you think?"
"I will be right back," Lucinda said and quickly left the bedroom only to return 
a moment later holding a long length of green ribbon in her hand.
She motioned for her to sit down on the wide bed, and proceeded to go to work on 
her gleaming tresses.
Twenty minutes later, Melanie could hardly believe the transformation of her 
reflection. Her hair was swept up off the slender column of her neck. The 
ribbon, which matched the dress exactly, was intertwined among the bounty of 
curls that cascaded down one side onto her bare shoulder.
A fresh flutter of nervousness assailed her. Would her appearance please Jim? 
She hoped so. Somehow this new, more sophisticated look didn't feel right to 
her. A sudden urge to completely change into something plainer and less 
pretentious swept over her. If these people didn't like her the way she really 
was, it was too bad. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She was 
overreacting. The silk gown was absolutely stunning and her new hairdo, though 
very different from her usual style, was elegant. Tonight, she should simply 
enjoy these lovely new clothes. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth when she 
caught sight of Lucinda who stood anxiously waiting for her reaction to her 
creation.
"It looks very nice. Why, I feel like a whole different person. I've got to stop 
being so serious about everything." The moment the words were out of her mouth, 
it hit her that was a good part of her problem here. She took everything too 
much to heart. She must learn to look at things in a lighter way.
Turning to her friend she announced, "I'm going to open that door, walk down the 
hallway, and have a wonderful time tonight." She wasn't sure if she sought to 
reassure Lucinda or herself with these words.
"Every man's eyes will be only on you," Lucinda predicted.
A year ago, those same words would have pleased her greatly, but now, she hoped 
Lucinda was wrong. The last thing she wanted tonight was to feel any more 
self-conscious than she already did.
The soft murmur of voices engrossed in deep conversation grew louder, as she 
approached the spacious parlor. Her matching green shoes pinched her toes and 
she longed to kick them off and walk barefoot.
She entered the room as quietly as she could, hoping not to attract too much 
attention to herself just yet. Her eyes darted around the room flitting on and 
off the strange faces of the guests until they found Jim. He conversed with a 
young woman who, to her great relief, had on a dress equally as low cut as her 
own. At least she would not stand out because of her attire.
Jim glanced up from his conversation with the dark-haired woman and his face 
froze for an instant when he noticed her for the first time. She smiled at him 
and, with her heart fluttering wildly, headed slowly in his direction.
All the buzzing of conversation ceased at her entrance into the crowded room. 
Jim could hardly believe his eyes. She was magnificent. His gaze traveled the 
entire length of her. He thought she presented the most exquisite image of 
gracefulness he had ever seen as she moved across the wooden floor.
The bodice of her gown hugged the contours of her slender frame accenting her 
narrow waist. His eyes came up to rest on the fullness of the rounded swell of 
her breasts pushed up above the cream colored lace which edged the top of the 
dress. A sudden image of a savage touching her there streaked across his 
consciousness and he clenched his fists at his sides. Although Melanie had 
assured him many times she had not been taken advantage of by any of those 
redskins, he still had his doubts. It tore at his insides that she'd lived so 
long with those stinking savages.
With a great effort he forced those nagging doubts away. Soon he would make this 
rare beauty his wife and he'd be the envy of every man in the territory. His 
chest swelled with pride as he glanced quickly around the room and found every 
man's eyes trained on her.
He stepped forward and took her hand in his the moment she reached him. He 
smiled down at her in answer to her shaky smile. Making use of the hush that 
settled over the room, he loudly announced to the crowd at large. "Everyone, I'd 
like to introduce my future bride, Melanie Blake." She stood there pinned by a 
dozen pair of eyes. After a few seconds, the room came alive again as people 
surged forward to greet her individually. She worked hard at remembering their 
names but finally gave up realizing she wouldn't possibly be able to recall 
everyone's name immediately.
When dinner was announced, she was relieved to be able to sit down and slip off 
the binding, uncomfortable shoes.
Jim was seated to her left and the raven-haired young woman on her right. She 
remembered her name was Ann and her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Osgoode, were seated 
directly across from her.
Melanie could hardly believe the enormous amount of food Lucinda prepared for 
this dinner party. There were platters of roasted chicken, sliced beef, and ham 
with honey glaze. Steaming bowls of potatoes, corn, and peas accompanied the 
meat. Loaves of bread and biscuits with sweet butter dripping off of them also 
abounded. Wine flowed freely as well as stronger spirits for the men.
Melanie ate quietly, content to let the conversation swirl around her. She tried 
hard to think of something interesting to interject into the conversation of 
these friends of her future husband, but found it difficult to think of anything 
to say to these people. Glancing around the long wooden table completely circled 
by people eating the food, she wondered why she felt so isolated and alone. This 
was her own world and yet it felt as foreign as the Indian camp had felt all 
those months ago. A baffling unrest attacked her and she wished to be anywhere 
but here.
Hearing her name brought her back from these unsettling thoughts. Mrs. Osgoode 
was speaking to her.
"It must be quite a relief to wear decent clothes again, Melanie. I think it's 
disgusting to wear the skin of dirty animals against your body. I believe I 
would have killed myself rather than endure the barbaric ways of those filthy 
savages."
A sudden hush fell over the table as all eyes speared her. Melanie felt a flush 
creep up over her neck and face. The blunt personal nature of the woman's 
comments stunned her. She sensed rather than saw Jim stiffen beside her. How 
could she answer this busy body woman honestly without risking embarrassment to 
Jim and his family? She did not wish to hurt him, but at the same time felt 
compelled to defend Little Arrow's people. Before she could collect her thoughts 
to reply, Jim said, "Melanie is a strong woman and she was able to survive and 
return to me. For that I'm eternally grateful."
He had saved the moment as the conversation changed quickly to the high prices 
of items these days. She threw him a look of thanks for rescuing her from 
further embarrassment. It still bothered her, though, that she was not allowed 
to set this nosy woman straight. The Indians were no more barbaric than any one 
of them sitting in this very room. She longed to tell these people how wrong 
they were about the Indians but every day that went by made her realize the 
utter futility of even trying. Obviously they preferred to remain ignorant and 
keep their inaccurate and bigoted opinion of the Indians at any price. They 
didn't really desire peace. All they wanted was to take the Indians' land and 
homes and punish them when they fought back. She could clearly see this now.
When the conversation inevitably returned to the problems they were currently 
having with the Indians, Melanie had difficulty swallowing. She stabbed 
dutifully at the food but eating had lost all appeal for her right now. She 
sipped her coffee fighting for control to keep silent in spite of the 
outrageously unfair comments made concerning Little Arrow's people.
Finally, she couldn't bear another second of the one-sided verbal attacks on the 
people who showed her nothing but kindness and acceptance. Abruptly she stood up 
pleading a severe headache and left the dining room amidst another strained 
silence. She ignored Jim's protests and calls to come back and fled to the 
solace of her room.
Not bothering to light any candles, she hurriedly disrobed, donned her cotton 
nightgown and crawled into bed. Hot, salty tears flooded her eyes as she 
squarely faced for the first time the depth of her feelings for the Indians. She 
had tried hard to behave the way Jim expected her to, but instead she had 
completely humiliated him in front of his friends. She didn't fit in with these 
people anymore. She had nothing in common with them. This revelation startled 
her. If she didn't belong here, where did she belong?
She lay on her back staring up in the darkness for what seemed like hours. Her 
heart was filled with a pain she couldn't describe. Instead of things becoming 
clearer they grew more confused with each passing day. Should she marry this 
man? Did she even love him? Would she ever fit in here with these people? And 
what about her promise to her mother? All these questions bombarded her mind at 
once. She wished Chato were there or even Snow Blossom. She desperately needed 
someone to talk to.
A loud knock preceded the bedroom door being flung wide open. Jim, with a candle 
in his hand, stood there glaring at her. The scowl on his face frightened her 
and she briskly hopped out of bed to face him.
"Jim, I'm sorry about tonight. I wasn't feeling well, I..."
"How could you embarrass me like that in front of my friends? Just who do you 
think you are? Do you have any idea how hard I've worked to cultivate the good 
will of these people? I..."
"Please, listen to me."
"No, you listen to me. I will not have my wife being called an Injun lover. I 
simply won't stand for it. Do you understand me?"
He took a step closer to her depositing the candle on the dresser as he did so. 
His breath reeked of whiskey and suddenly she realized he was quite drunk. Fear 
of his inebriated state and his barely controlled anger took hold of her. She 
retreated a step back away from him but in a split second his arm shot out and 
grabbed her wrist in an iron clasp.
"Please, you're hurting me."
He totally ignored her protest and continued. "After living with those savages, 
all those months, I'm not sure I even still want you."
She blanched at his shocking words. Her white face penetrated his alcohol-laden 
brain and he instantly regretted his blunt words. Despite everything, he did 
still want her badly. But nagging doubts plagued him about exactly what went on 
at that Injun camp. He fought hard to conquer these doubts and the rage he felt 
at being humiliated by her actions tonight. But he couldn't afford to alienate 
her. He wanted her so bad he could taste it. He must not scare her off by his 
explosive behavior now.
His hand loosened its fierce grip on her slim wrist and still breathing heavily, 
he stepped back away from her. Some of the starkness left her face when he did 
this and he relaxed a little, also.
"I'm sorry, honey. Forgive me. I didn't mean to say that. But your attitude 
toward these heathens has to change. I can't have people calling my wife an 
Injun lover. The folks around here hate these red-skins and you're simply going 
to have to get used to hearing them say it."
She didn't answer him. What could she say? She loved Little Arrow and she loved 
Chato and Snow Blossom. They were all Indians. So, therefore, she was an Indian 
lover, wasn't she?
He took her silence as acquiescence to his terms and moved closer to her cupping 
her chin with his hand. He peered down at her fragile face. She did have the 
most dazzling eyes. A man could lose himself in their depths.
"I just want everything to be good between us, sweetheart. I love you, Melanie. 
I want us to start planning our wedding soon." His voice grew husky as he bent 
to whisper in her ear. "I've waited a long time to have you, darling. It can't 
be soon enough for me until you're truly mine."
His head descended and his lips closed over hers, gently persuasive at first, 
then as the heat of his passion burst to the surface, he deepened the kiss and 
pulled her soft body closer to his much harder one.
Melanie closed her eyes and wrapped her arms up around his neck. She wanted 
everything to be right between them, too. She wanted so badly to love him and 
feel something when he kissed her the way she had with Chato, but try as hard as 
she could, she felt nothing.
Encouraged by her arms entwined about his neck, he hugged her even tighter. 
Inflamed by the feel of her body beneath the flimsy barrier of her nightgown, 
his hand sought the curve of her buttocks only stopping when her hand stayed 
his.
"Jim, please, you shouldn't be in here with me. It's not proper."
The truth of her words stopped his bold actions cold. Taking a deep steadying 
breath, he stepped away and broke all bodily contact with her.
His breathing sounded heavy and ragged when he stated, "Soon we'll go into 
Denver and see about a wedding gown for you. I can't wait much longer to make 
you my wife."
Without waiting for her reply, he spun around, snatched up the candle, and left 
the room.
She stood staring at the closed door for several minutes after he left. What was 
she going to do? Should she begin making preparations for her marriage to this 
man? Would love eventually come with time or would it be a total mistake to 
marry him without loving him right from the start?
In all fairness she knew he couldn't really help the opinion he held of the 
Indians. Everyone around here obviously held the same view of them. But she had 
really tried tonight. Several times during the evening she had bitten her tongue 
until it almost bled just to keep quiet and not embarrass him in front of his 
company. It hadn't worked. How could she go through her entire life keeping her 
opinions to herself?
Women were expected to do this, she well knew, but she'd never quite been able 
to accomplish this not even as a young child. Expressing her views had gotten 
her into quite a bit of trouble during her growing up years. Her mother had 
despaired of her ever behaving like a demure young lady should. Perhaps her 
mother had been right. If being Jim's wife meant giving up her right to say how 
she felt about things, then maybe she shouldn't become his wife after all. 
Another thought struck her. If he was this upset about her living with the 
Indians, what would he do when he realized on their wedding night that she was 
no longer a virgin?
She lay back down on the bed and willed herself to end these perplexing 
ponderings. Tomorrow was another day. She prayed she would find the right 
answers to help her make the right decision. Her future happiness depended upon 
it.
She delighted in this excursion into town today. Denver was alive with people 
and activity in stark contrast to the serenity of the ranch. The same 
magnificent mountains visible from her bedroom window reached up to meet the 
azure sky forming a stunning backdrop to the town. Although doubts continued to 
nag her over her upcoming marriage to the man seated beside her in the buggy, 
she put them aside for the moment. Instead, she concentrated her attention on 
the interesting array of people who hustled here and there along the wide 
street, which formed the center of Denver.
The row of small wooden shops, featuring a wide assortment of goods and 
services, drew her attention. She read the names of the various establishments 
lining both sides of the dust-covered road as they passed by them. Joe's Gun 
Shop stood between the Town BarberShop and a somewhat larger building which 
proclaimed to be The Denver Hotel. A little further down on the opposite side of 
the street piano music floated out of the swinging half doors of the Red Slipper 
Saloon. Raucous laughter and the buzz of conversations gave proof to the 
popularity of this place even at this early hour in the afternoon.
Toward the end of the street Melanie noted several horses waiting patiently for 
the services of the local blacksmith. As they traveled down the long street she 
could clearly hear the clip clap of the women's shoes as they traversed the 
wooden platform which served as protection for their shoes and clothes from the 
mud or dust.
As she watched, a little girl with blonde bouncing curls peeking out from under 
her pink ruffled sun bonnet, skipped by them with a stick of peppermint candy 
clutched tightly in her petite hand. Melanie smiled at the child and the pretty 
young girl shyly returned her smile. She looked about the same age as Little 
Arrow and the comparison instantly brought with it a twinge of fresh pain. How 
much easier this little girl's life appeared to be in contrast to the hardships 
Little Arrow had endured already in his young life? The mother of the girl eyed 
Melanie suspiciously and whispered something to another woman in a calico dress 
who walked beside her. This woman immediately glared at her, too, and Melanie 
realized they were discussing her. The hostile looks directed at her hurt deeply 
and she wondered what she had done to cause them. She didn't even know these 
women.
All at once, it came to her. Somehow, they must have heard about her living 
among the Indians and about her attitude toward them. She turned away from the 
pair not wishing to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much their gossip 
and unfair judgment of her hurt.
They continued down the dirt road past Tom's General Store stopping before a 
neat-looking, square storefront. The rectangular, black and white wooden sign 
proclaimed, "Madame Estelle: Seamstress." Jim jumped to the dusty ground and 
lifted her down to stand beside him. His hand lingered a few seconds on her 
waist before dropping reluctantly to his side. Her husband similar-ly helped 
Jane down from the buggy.
The older woman turned to her smiling and said, "This is going to be such fun 
picking out your wedding dress. I thought I'd never have the chance to do 
anything like this seeing as how I never had a daughter."
The wistful expression on her slightly wrinkled face revealed how affected she 
was by remaining childless all these years.
Melanie felt sorry for this kind woman, so obviously pleased at the prospect of 
helping her decide on the design of her wedding gown. She quelled the doubts 
that still plagued her about her upcoming marriage to her childhood friend and 
smiled back at her.
"I'm so glad to have your help. I'm afraid I've completely lost touch with the 
styles which are popular now."
"Don't worry about a thing, dear. Madame Estelle is an excellent seamstress. I'm 
sure she'll be able to recommend just the right dress for you. You're going to 
make a very beautiful bride."
She linked arms with Melanie and led her toward the narrow entrance of the small 
dress shop. Before they entered she turned back to call to the men who still 
stood next to the hitching post, "We'll be about an hour."
Melanie couldn't imagine it taking that long but she didn't say a word. Instead 
she tried to get into the right frame of mind. A girl dreams all her life about 
her wedding day and she hoped Aunt Jane's enthusiasm would somehow rub off on 
her. She should be eagerly anticipating becoming a bride but as of yet that 
feeling had escaped her.
Once inside the shop her vision was captured by a multitude of colors. Rolls and 
rolls of cloth in varying shades and designs lined three walls of the shop. She 
was mildly surprised, though, to find the remaining wall completely empty.
A harried looking woman bustled forward, wisps of gray hair falling out of the 
chignon resting at the base of her neck. Spectacles perched precariously near 
the end of her long nose. Melanie recognized her from the first time they 
ordered her clothes here.
"May I help you?" she inquired. As the woman got closer, she finally appeared to 
recognize them from their previous shopping spree at her establishment. A slight 
frown came onto her rather plain face.
"I hope there's no problem with the clothes I sewed for you."
"Oh, no," Jane reassured her. "We're here for something very special this time. 
A wedding gown for Melanie."
"How wonderful," the French woman exclaimed with a distinct European accent. 
"When is the wedding to take place?"
Melanie spoke for the first time since stepping inside the shop. "My fiancé 
would like it to be as soon as the gown can be made."
"Oh, these young stallions. They cannot wait, eh?" she winked conspiratorially 
at Jane.
"You are a lovely girl. We must sew for you the most magnificent gown this 
territory has ever seen." She smiled in obvious anticipation of the fat fee she 
would receive for her work. The woman glanced at the glaringly empty wall and 
said,"I am sorry I do not have more of a selection of material for you to choose 
from. These Injuns. Something needs to be done about them. It is impossible to 
get my supplies in because no one is willing to risk an attack by those savages 
to deliver it. But still I have many pretty ones for you to choose from," she 
finished, sounding hopeful.
Melanie froze at her words, then relaxed. She certainly should be used to the 
term savages by now. Aunt Jane cast her a nervous look so she smiled to reassure 
her. She would not make a scene. What was the use anyway? It didn't alter these 
people's views.
"Perhaps, you would like to look through my sketch books. There are many 
different styles to choose from."
Melanie sat down in the comfortably cushioned chair the seamstress pulled out 
for her and began to flip through the pages of the thick pad.
As she turned the pages of sketched gowns, one was lovelier than the next. She 
sat dazed as the full realization that she was about to be fitted for one of 
these beautiful creations, hit her. In spite of her earlier doubts, she felt a 
stirring of excitement take over. There was something magical about a wedding 
gown that made a woman feel transformed. As she scanned the sketches she tried 
to imagine herself clothed in one of them.
"This one's very pretty, Melanie, what do you think?" Jane's voice cut into her 
reverie. She looked at the sketch that had caught the older woman's fancy. The 
floor-length gown had a tight bodice that ended in a vee just below the 
waistline before flaring out at the hips. The long sleeves puffed out at the 
shoulders tapering down to a tight fit with a matching vee at each wrist. The 
hemline was caught up at regular intervals by tiny bows revealing a layer of 
lace beneath.
It was breathtakingly beautiful, simple, yet elegant, and at the same time 
totally feminine. The scooped neck-line edged with lace matched the bottom.
"Yes, it's lovely," she replied.
Estelle's eyes lit up at their choice. She hastened to offer, "This is my newest 
creation. On you, it will be simply wonderful. Why don't you look at the 
materials I do have in stock? Thankfully, I still have several white satins and 
silks available."
The two women followed the small French woman to a table where several rolls of 
white and off white, shiny material were displayed. Melanie stroked the 
different materials unsure of which one she liked best. They all felt satiny 
smooth and looked lovely. Jane held each roll up next to her arm trying to 
determine which shade suited her skin color the best.
An off-white satin bolt of material was selected by the seamstress as blending 
the best with her coloring. Melanie agreed, as she really couldn't decide so she 
listened to Aunt Jane who concurred with the shop owner's choice.
Measurements were taken and a date for two weeks hence was arranged for her 
first fitting. Aunt Jane smiled from ear to ear as they left the shop and headed 
down the wooden walkway to where their buggy stood. Melanie knew she had taken 
the first step of many that would eventually end with her becoming Jim's wife. 
She prayed with all her heart that she was doing the right thing.
A strange restlessness invaded her this morning. She had grown accustomed to 
much harder physical labor while in the Cheyenne Camp and she found the huge 
snatches of time with nothing for her to do here, unbearable. She was no longer 
used to being pampered and it bothered her to idly sit here in the kitchen 
watching Lucinda make all the preparations for supper.
She got up off the chair and announced to her friend, "I'm going to help you cut 
up the vegetables for the stew."
Lucinda looked shocked a second before she burst out in howls of laughter. When 
she finally gained control of herself she said, "Are you loco, Melanie? Señora 
Colter will have a fainting attack if you dirty your hands with such a menial 
chore."
Now it was her turn to double over as peals of laughter shook her small frame. 
After a few minutes she regained her composure and replied.
"Do you have any idea the number of menial tasks I performed when I lived with 
the Indians? Listen to this. I fetched water from the river every morning. I 
bathed in the cold river too, just about everyday." At Lucinda's interested 
gaze, she continued stepping a bit closer lowering her voice to a conspiratorial 
whisper. "I helped gather firewood and cooked my own dinner each night. When 
buffalo skins needed to be prepared for use as robes, I scraped them right along 
with the Indian women. What do you think Aunt Jane would say if she knew that?"
"I do not wish to be around the day you tell her," Lucinda grinned as she said 
this.
Melanie smiled too. "I don't intend to tell her," she stated. "Now will you let 
me dirty my hands and help you make dinner?"
"Yes, but let's both hope Señora Colter doesn't find out."
"I'm not fixin' to tell her, don't worry about that. I just can't stand sitting 
around here doing nothing. It drives me crazier than a loon," she honestly 
stated.
The two girls chatted away as they put together the evening meal. Lucinda 
appeared interested in hearing more about the Indians and their pure and simple 
way of life. Melanie was thrilled to be able to relate to someone, who was 
unbiased against these people, everything that had happened to her during her 
long stay. All the details of her life there spilled out as if they had been 
held in a tight container for way too long.
Jane suddenly came into the kitchen, stopping short when she noticed Melanie 
peeling potatoes.
"Whatever are you doing, dear?"
Melanie quelled the giggles threatening to erupt at any moment from the look of 
shocked disapproval written all over the woman's face.
"I'm helping Lucinda make supper, Aunt Jane. Please don't get upset. I got bored 
with nothing to do this afternoon."
She could have predicted the woman's words before they were even out of her 
mouth. "It's not proper for a young lady of your breeding to be performing these 
type of tasks. That's why we have Lucinda, dear," she patiently explained.
"But there's not enough for me to do around here, Aunt Jane. You don't allow me 
to help with the cleaning. What should I do all day?" She worked hard to keep 
the exasperation she felt out of her voice. She liked Aunt Jane, even if her 
ideas were somewhat rigid, and she didn't want to hurt her for the world.
A worried frown furrowed Jane's forehead, as she appeared to be trying to think 
of something that would interest Melanie during the day and keep her out of 
trouble.
She approached Melanie and whisked her out of the room. "You seem to have a 
problem with underlings, dear. We mustn't tell Jim about this. Go and wash your 
hands before the men come in for supper. Don't worry. We'll find something more 
suitable for you to do during the day. I don't want it said I didn't correctly 
instruct you on being a proper wife to Jim." She gave a short nervous laugh, in 
an attempt to lighten her disapproving words of her actions.
Melanie bit back the retort bursting to get out. Each day that brought her 
closer to her wedding day made her wonder if she was cut out to be a proper and 
dutiful wife to Jim Colter at all.
Chapter Twenty
Chato tossed and turned as sleep eluded him yet another night. Finally, ending 
the useless attempt to secure any rest this night he rolled to his feet and 
stepped outside his lodge into the cool night air. Stars blinked and shone like 
tiny dots of silver painted onto a velvet black canvas. The sliver of a 
silver-white moon told him one moon had passed since he left Melanie at the 
Washichus ranch.
Was she happy back with her people? Did she miss him or ever think of him?
He sat down finally allowing the rush of memories that constantly flirted on the 
outskirts of his mind, to overcome him. Unlike so many other nights when he 
fought with all his might to send those memories away, this time he welcomed 
them. Perhaps if he allowed himself the freedom of truly missing her this night, 
he might eventually be able to get some much-needed sleep.
Images of her enchantingly beautiful face haunted him. He saw her innocence and 
pure heart in every child of this tribe. The memory of her slim, perfect body 
made him hot with need even now. She had ruined him for any other woman. Try as 
he might, he could not bring himself to become interested in any of the young 
maidens who made it very clear they would be open to his attentions. Melanie was 
the woman he loved, the only woman he wanted. But she was with another man-a 
Washichu. He wondered how this white man was treating Melanie. Knowing all too 
well the hatred white men held for his kind, he worried he might mistreat her 
because of the time spent here with his people. His gut twisted at the 
possibility and he vowed he'd kill the man if he hurt Melanie in any way.
His fist pounded against the dry dirt of the ground. Sheer frustration was 
driving him crazy. During the day when the sun shone down on his village, he 
longed to see the sunlight in her long, boundless hair. He missed the sparkle in 
her prairie grass eyes and the music of her laughter.
Calm now reigned in the Cheyenne camp, in total contrast to his turbulent 
emotions. In a few short weeks he would return to the hill overlooking the CCC 
Ranch. Struggle as he might to keep the hope from entering his heart once again, 
it had found a way in. He knew a bigger fool never lived.
The pain of her first rejection was not yet healed and he had set himself up for 
another hurtful rejection. He felt powerless to stop it.
The soft wails of an infant came from a distant lodge and he turned his head 
toward the sound. A few seconds later it ceased as he imagined its mother had 
taken the babe to her breast. Other night sounds filtered through the cool air. 
The baleful call of the coyote seeking a mate reminded him he was much like that 
lonesome animal. He had no mate to love and hold during the long lonely nights. 
There was no mother for his unborn children. He wondered if there ever would be.
These melancholy thoughts held his heart in a tight grasp until finally, as the 
gray and pink stripes splashed across the sky proclaiming the dawn of a new day, 
he headed for the river. He did not face this new day with enthusiasm but rather 
with stoicism. He'd get through it but there was no joy in him. He wasn't sure 
if there ever would be again.
Joe Simms stared at Major Anthony in complete astonishment. He was having a hard 
time believing this man had truly been sent to take command of Fort Benson.
"Captain Simms, I know my arrival comes as a complete surprise to you. But 
headquarters believes this fort issued supplies to hostile Indians. This is a 
violation of orders."
Captain Simms' face flushed at the harsh and unfair criticism from this short, 
arrogant sounding major.
"I'm afraid headquarters is mistaken, Major Anthony. The Cheyenne who are camped 
along Sand Creek came there because of a printed circular sent out by Governor 
Evans, himself. They consider themselves to be friendly. They're not hostile, 
not this particular group."
Major Anthony looked at Captain Simms as if he thought the man had lost all his 
senses. "How can you even make a statement like that? These Indians committed 
all types of atrocities. They've not allowed any manner of transportation at all 
to reach Denver. The town is rapidly running out of supplies. That's certainly 
not my idea of friendly Indians."
"Sir, as I said before, these particular Indians are not the ones causing all 
the havoc of which you speak. This group of Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians are at 
peace with us and they believe they're protected."
"And I'm telling you no such peace or promise of protection was ever given to 
them."
"They came at the invitation of Governor Evans!"
"You are mistaken about that. The mood at headquarters is that punishment of 
these hostiles is what's needed."
Captain Simms looked incredulous. "Do you have any idea of the damage these 
Indians can inflict on us if we don't seek peace with them?"
"The army is not afraid of these savages. Perhaps if you are, it's time you 
thought of getting out."
The insult hung heavy in the thick air of tension that pervaded the room. Joe 
Simms appeared speechless.
"I'm sorry you don't agree with me, Captain Simms, an offensive is being planned 
right now and the order can't come soon enough for me. I've notified 
headquarters that a band of Indians are camped out at Sand Creek and I have 
requested permission to attack them."
He ignored Joe Simms' astonished gasp and continued. "All I have to do now is 
wait for the answer."
"That's all for now, Captain Simms. If I have further need of you later I'll 
summon you. You're dismissed."
Joseph Simms clenched and unclenched his fists visibly fighting to remain 
respectful to his superior officer. Finally, he walked through his office door, 
slamming it behind him. As he stiffly walked back to his quarters, a voice rang 
out.
"Captain Simms."
Joe turned and spied Sergeant Whittacker rapidly approaching. When he reached 
him, he said, "I guess you've heard? This fort is now under Major Anthony's 
command."
"Sir, what happened? Why is he taking charge?"
"Let's not stand out here. Come inside my room and have a shot of whiskey with 
me."
Jack looked a bit shocked by the older man's offer, but he followed the Captain 
into his quarters, a curious expression on his face.
After the whiskey was poured, the two men sat facing each other seated on hard, 
wooden chairs.
Joe shook his head slowly from side to side. "You know, Jack, the ironic part of 
this whole thing is I got through that girl, Melanie Blake's, disappearance. I 
really thought that young, impatient, fool Colter's report to Governor Evans 
might have ended my career. Nothing. I never heard a thing about it. Now, all I 
did was follow the circular the governor himself wrote-and what happens? I get 
relieved of my command. And to a total know-it-all idiot like Major Scott 
Anthony." A bitter laugh came from his throat.
"I don't understand, Sir. What exactly have you been accused of?"
"The official accusation is issuing supplies to hostile Indians. Can you believe 
it? These Cheyenne are friendly. I've waited years to see this conflict resolved 
with these Indians and an end to the bloodshed on both sides. Damn it, I've seen 
too many good men cut down, out here in their prime by this enemy. Just when the 
end was finally in sight, they send Major Scott Anthony."
"I take it you don't think this Major Anthony is looking for peace with these 
Indians."
"Hell, no. He even admitted it. I've seen his kind many times before. His only 
intentions are to stir up more trouble with these redskins in order to further 
his own career. No, I'm afraid peace will be set back months, most likely years, 
with this man in charge here. He feels a need to punish these Indians first. You 
and I both well know if soldiers kill any more Indians, peace will be the last 
thing on those peoples' minds. They'll likely never trust us again. And with 
good reason."
Jack changed the subject then.
"Did you ever hear what actually became of Miss Blake, anyway?"
"Last I heard she was preparing to marry James Colter. Damndest thing I ever 
heard the way she supposedly just rode up to the ranch one day, out of nowhere. 
I still say Chato found her and helped her. She never could have survived all 
that time out there by herself."
"Well at least that story had a happy ending," Jack commented.
"Ya. Somebody got what they wanted." Joe Simms stood up and yawned. Turning to 
face the young soldier, he stated, "I'm a bit tired. I think I'll turn in now."
"Me too," Jack said. "Thanks for the whiskey." He snapped a salute and turned to 
leave. Before he reached the door, Captain Simms' ominous words stopped him.
"You and the rest of the men better be ready for some big changes around here. 
Fort Benson has a new commander."
Snow Blossom walked arm in arm with Black Eagle along the sand pits. Pools of 
water lay every few feet along the creek bed. The air had a definite nip to it 
today indicating winter would soon be here in earnest. Before long the cold 
breezes which blew down from the mountains would usher in the snow.
She was happy here in this peaceful camp. The man she'd grown to love and whom 
she would soon join with, smiled down at her.
"You look very lovely today, Snow Blossom."
She lowered her lush lashes at his unexpected compliment.
"What are you thinking about? You seem far away this morning," he observed.
"I was thinking about Melanie. I wish I could tell her of my love for you and 
about our being joined soon."
Black Eagle looked surprised. "She has been gone almost two moons now. Do you 
still miss her?"
"Yes, she was a good friend. I hope she is happy being back with her own 
people."
Snow Blossom spotted Chato off in the distance attending to his horse after a 
long ride. Seeing the direction of Snow Blossom's eyes, Black Eagle commented, 
"He took the white woman's departure very hard. I thought she might stay because 
it was not hard to read her face. She cared for Chato."
"I know. I saw it too. I wish there was a way to make it easier for Chato," she 
said.
"He must turn his heart to one of our own women. That is the only way," he said 
knowingly.
Snow Blossom shook her head. "I don't know if that will ever happen. We must ask 
the Great Spirit to help Chato find love among our people. He has done so much 
to help us make peace with the whites. He deserves to be as happy as we are."
The wind whipped through Melanie's unbound hair. She rode abreast of Jim on the 
black mare he had given her. Pride flowed through her that she could keep pace 
with his stallion's quick strides. It was early afternoon on a Sunday and 
Melanie noted the cool crispness in the air. Winter was fast approaching. She 
could hardly believe she had been here almost two months already.
The picnic basket Aunt Jane packed for them was securely tied down to Jim's 
saddle. Quite far from the ranch house now, Melanie glanced around awed as 
always at the vastness of this ranch.
Jim reigned his horse to a stop and Melanie followed suit. He nimbly dismounted 
and came to stand beside her mare. She slid down into his awaiting arms and they 
stood close together for a moment before he released his hold on her, pointing 
to what appeared to be a huge clump of dark brown dots all grouped together off 
in the distance.
"Do you see that, Melanie?"
"Yes. What is it?"
"Cattle, sweetheart. That's all CCC cattle. As far as the eye can see is Uncle 
Bob's land. Someday, it'll all be ours."
The awe in his voice made her turn and study him. His blond boyish face was 
handsome and pleasing to look at. But his blue eyes gleamed with an unknown 
emotion. She could not quite put her finger on what his expression revealed. She 
knew most women would find his slender body and clean-cut boyish face, with its 
smattering of freckles, appealing.
She thought him handsome in a youngish way, but she preferred a darker, older, 
more rugged look on a man. Chato's face flashed across her mind for an instant 
and she grew angry with herself. It was unfair to Jim to make comparisons 
between the two men who, in appearance as well as temperament, were as different 
as night and day. Why, she wondered, after all this time, and with her wedding 
day arriving soon, did her traitorous mind still conjure up images and memories 
of the scout to torture her?
Jim spoke then, thankfully disrupting her train of thought.
"When Uncle Bob and Aunt Jane are gone, this will all be ours. I intend to 
acquire the two ranches on either side of us, then. When I do that, honey, we'll 
be the largest and richest landowners in the entire Colorado Territory. I might 
even run for governor," he enthusiastically added.
His words brought a frown of disapproval to her smooth face. She didn't think it 
was right to speak of the deaths of his aunt and uncle with such avarice and 
obvious delight shining in his big blue eyes. It seemed as though he wished for 
that time to come soon so he alone could own this huge ranch.
"Jim, this ranch is already so big. Why in the world would you want to buy two 
more ranches?"
He turned to look down at her with the look of impatience and irritation that 
often came onto his face lately when he spoke to her. She knew she'd annoyed him 
again by questioning his opinion. His explanation, as usual, sounded patronizing 
as though he spoke to a not so bright child.
"Melanie, out here, you'll soon learn that how much land and the number of head 
of cattle a man possesses are what make him important and respected. That's why 
it's so necessary to have just the right wife to share it all with. A family man 
is considered a better choice to run for office. This ranch may appear big to 
you, but actually it's no larger than many others out here are. If I'm going to 
stand out above the rest, I have to have more land and cattle and be richer. 
Money means power. Do you understand now?"
She did understand, all too clearly. She wished she didn't. It all sounded so 
greedy. In order to gain power, which obviously was very important to Jim, one 
had to possess large amounts of land. No wonder the Indians were constantly 
pushed from their homes, if land, just for the sake of riches and power was so 
all-important. She quietly answered him.
"I think I understand, but tell me, why is it so important to you to be 
powerful?"
He laughed at what he considered to be a very stupid question.
"Power is everything out here. All my life I've lived in the shadow of my father 
and uncle. I want something for myself. I want to be somebody. I want to be 
somebody important. When I walk through the streets of Denver, I want everyone 
to know my name and know who I am."
The fanatical gleam in his eye when he said this sent a chill down her spine. 
This side of Jim she'd never glimpsed before. Back in Virginia when they were 
very young, he'd seemed to be just like all the other children. Now, for the 
first time, she realized he must have had a very unhappy childhood to be so 
driven.
She tried, then, to make him understand the goals in life which were important 
to her. "Jim, I always thought being happy with yourself and being a good and 
kind person to others, was what gave someone a sense of power and contentment. 
All the riches in the world can't make up for that. You already are someone. 
Many people knew your name in Denver."
He looked at her again as if her brain was missing. She thought she actually 
glimpsed disgust in his expression a second before he uttered these words.
"That kind of thinking is for losers. I intend to become a winner and I want you 
by my side every step of the way." He beamed down at her a moment before saying, 
"Let's mount up and ride a little further. We'll find a good spot for our 
picnic."
She was glad when he turned his gaze away from her. She feared he would be able 
to read the dismay she knew had to be revealed on her face. An uneasy feeling 
settled in the pit of her stomach following his words. The future he had mapped 
out for himself did not sound like one she wanted to share.
The majestic Rocky Mountains supplied a splendid backdrop for the idyllic spot 
he picked out for their picnic. She tried not to let his earlier disturbing 
words spoil their lunch. The cold chicken and thick, goat cheese along with a 
loaf of hard bread and sweet butter tasted delicious.
Her stomach full, a sleepy, languorous feeling took hold of her. She glanced 
over at Jim who was lying on his side, playing with a blade of grass. She tried 
to picture herself married to him, but a knot of fear at this thought assailed 
her. Despite all the time she'd spent here, he still seemed more like a stranger 
than like a future husband. She faced the uncomfortable fact that there was much 
she still didn't know about him. He kept parts of himself hidden and only gave 
glimpses of them occasionally. Like today. It occurred to her the Jim she had 
loved all those years ago, had been a very different person than the man who now 
lay beside her. This scared her.
In less than a week the moon would be full. She'd have to give Chato her answer 
to the question-Was she happy back among her people and did she wish to remain 
here? Just a week ago, she most likely would have answered yes to both of those 
questions. Her wedding was planned and she had decided she belonged here with 
her own kind. Hopefully she would grow to love Jim in time.
Now, however, real doubts about this surfaced and confusion reigned in her 
heart. She wished someone could tell her the right thing to do.
"Melanie." His voice startled her and she jumped guiltily afraid he might read 
her mind. He chuckled. "Did I scare you?"
"I'm afraid I was lost in thought."
"Come here, my future wife," he huskily ordered.
She inched closer to where he lay on the blanket. His arms circled around her 
back and he drew her into his embrace. She tried to relax and enjoy his hug but 
found herself, instead, fighting an impulse to push him away. It appalled her 
she should have this reaction to his touch, but she did.
"You're so very beautiful," he whispered in her ear.
His warm breath brushed across her cheek as he spoke these tender words. "I can 
hardly wait to claim you for my own." The kiss when it came seared her lips as 
his deep hunger for her tightened his embrace.
She waited, as usual, hoping to be swept up in the flames of passion. Again, she 
was disappointed as her body refused to respond to his touch. If his lips were 
not clamped so tightly over hers, a small sob of frustration would have escaped 
them as the anguish of her situation washed over her.
This was the man she had set out to be with over a year ago. Soon to be her 
husband. Everything should be right with her world. Instead, she couldn't 
respond to him and in fact, she felt as if she didn't even really know him 
anymore. Chato was the only one who had ignited her passions and she felt like 
she knew him better, in the short time she had spent with him, than Jim, who 
she'd grown up with.
He ended the kiss to stare down at her. "What's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" She bit her lower lip nervously.
"You didn't exactly welcome my kiss." his words came out between tight, clenched 
lips.
"I'm sorry. I'm a little distracted today," she lied. She didn't wish to hurt 
him. It wasn't his fault she didn't love him. She had no idea whose fault it 
was.
"It's not very flattering to kiss your wife-to-be and have her mind be somewhere 
else."
"I'm really sorry. I guess it's all the last minute details of planning the 
wedding and all." It was a bold face lie, but what else could she say? That his 
kisses left her cold? That she didn't love him? That she wished she had stayed 
at the Cheyenne Village? Oh, my God. Where had that idea come from?
"Are you sure that's all it is? Maybe you've been lying to me."
He ignored her gasp and continued, "Maybe you're more of an Injun lover than 
you're letting on. Maybe some big buck did have his way with you and maybe you 
liked it."
He grabbed hold of her wrists and stood up roughly yanking her to her feet along 
with him.
"I don't intend to take no Injun's leavings."
"Jim, stop it. You're hurting me."
He glared down at her for a few seconds before finally letting go of her wrists. 
He knew he had to get control of himself but the possibility of one of those 
savages having touched what belonged to him ate at his insides.
"I'm sorry, Melanie. I can't stand the thought of you being alone with those 
redskins all that time. You're mine, and nobody touches what's mine." He made 
her sound like a possession instead of a person. His tone had taken on a 
fanatical quality that scared her.
"Please, Jim, you've got to stop thinking about the time I spent with the 
Indians. It's in the past."
"I am trying," he answered. "But it isn't easy. We'd better get back to the 
ranch now."
They cleaned up the remnants of their picnic in stilted silence and headed home, 
both consumed with their own thoughts. He eagerly looked forward to their 
wedding day when he would truly own her. Maybe then he'd feel better.
She, on the other hand, dreaded what her life would be like if her feelings 
toward him didn't drastically change. She also dreaded his reaction if he 
discovered on their wedding night that he was not the first man to lie with her. 
His violent temper frightened her.
In a few more days she would meet Chato. Somehow she would have to be ready with 
her answer by then.
Chapter Twenty-One
The peaceful silence of the November night was marred by the sound of seven 
hundred mounted men pushing their horses across the frozen ground. Captain 
Joseph Simms surveyed the barely distinguishable landscape of rolling prairie 
covered with short grass. An ominous shiver passed over his body more from the 
situation at hand than from the bitter cold.
Colonel Chivington led the expedition, his huge outline towering above the rest 
of the officers. Next to him rode Colonel Scott Anthony who was well pleased 
with this planned attack on the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians camped on the bend 
of Sand Creek. When Major Anthony had welcomed Colonel Chivington to Fort 
Benson, a few days earlier, it had been obvious something was afoot. An immense 
sized force had accompanied the man and a veil of secrecy had hung over the 
operation right from the start. As soon as Colonel Chivington arrived, he had 
secured the fort, not allowing anyone to leave.
Simms could still not quite believe what these soldiers, including himself, were 
about to do. He had attempted to argue against the proposed slaughter, but had 
been completely ignored and worse-called an Injun lover and a yellow belly. Now 
he was being forced to take part in a United States Cavalry attack against a 
peaceful village of Indians. These people believed they had been promised 
protection from the government. It turned Joe Simms stomach to think how this 
poor unsuspecting group of Indians would be caught sleeping and totally 
unprepared for a fight and then slaughtered. He shot a quick glance around him 
looking for signs of repulsion on the soldiers' faces at what was soon to be 
done. He wanted to scream out to these soldiers-Don't do it! But they wouldn't 
listen. He was no longer in charge of these men. That giant of a man with the 
blood lust in his eyes, Colonel John Chivington, was now in command. A man who 
had given orders that no prisoners were to be taken and no one, no matter his 
age, was to be spared. His exact orders had been, "To kill Indians. To kill all, 
little and big."
Joe Simms' toes and fingers grew numb from the biting cold but a completely 
different type of numbness settled over his heart. The kind of numbness that 
attempts to keep out a reality far too harsh for the mind to deal with. It was 
almost daybreak. They would be in sight of the Indian camp soon.
Chato left the warmth of his buffalo robes to stoke the fire and add more fuel 
as dawn brought forth the beginning of a new day. Another restless night-he'd 
been plagued once again by dreams of Melanie. In just one more day he would set 
out to meet with her at their appointed spot. He did not allow himself to 
speculate on what her answers might be. It would only torture him to dwell on 
the upcoming meeting with the woman he loved more than life. He'd simply have to 
wait and see what her decision would be.
The ground began to vibrate under his bare feet with the sound of many hooves. 
His brow knit together as he wondered what buffalo were doing so near to the 
village. Quickly he donned his high moccasins, threw a heavy robe over his 
shoulders and lifting the flap on his lodge, stepped outside into the frosty 
morning air.
A few women, already out collecting water from the river, ran shouting and 
pointing behind them. Raising his eyes in the direction of their arms, he could 
barely make out a line of mounted soldiers riding rapidly toward them. His 
heartbeat accelerated as a sick premonition took hold of him. He looked toward 
Black Kettle's lodge and saw the old man emerge looking totally confused. 
Following him, were his wife and brother, White Antelope. Black Kettle raced 
back inside only to return a moment later with the white man's flag given to him 
earlier. He immediately ran it up a lodge pole and then attached a white one 
below it to show this village was a peaceful and friendly one. His look was now 
confident that no harm would come to his people from these approaching 
bluecoats. He held up his hand in an attempt to calm the panic that was rapidly 
spreading among the people as they streamed out of their lodges.
Chato stood immobile, not quite sure yet whether there was any real danger here 
or not. He glanced around with growing alarm when he realized the soldiers had 
broken up into smaller columns that now completely surrounded the camp. He 
turned and stepped back into his lodge to grab his gun just in case.
He ran across to stand beside Black Kettle, White Antelope, and Chief Lone Wolf 
noting out of the corner of his eye that some of the warriors headed toward the 
pony herd on the other side of the river. People ran here and there in 
escalating panic, terror evident on their faces.
An explosion of gunfire ripped through the air the moment the troops reached the 
camp. The mass of men, women and children scattered and ran in all directions. 
White Antelope stood with his arms folded and began chanting a death song. Chato 
yelled to him and the rest of the small group assembled in front of Black 
Kettle's lodge to run, but White Antelope refused to budge. Chato watched in 
horror as he was shot down where he stood.
Dead bodies lay all around. The cries of women and children rang in his ears 
shot one after the other without mercy. Chato fired over and over again as he 
searched for cover joining the terrified throng of people who surged toward the 
creek bed. Once there, he quickly lowered himself into a pit dug into the high 
bank of the stream. In between firing shots at the soldiers who relentlessly 
pursued the people as they scrambled for safety, he frantically scanned the area 
for Little Arrow or Snow Blossom. He saw neither in the terrifying melee.
Fire seared through him an instant later and he grabbed his side in pain. It 
took him a few seconds to realize he'd been hit. Still he fought back with every 
last ounce of strength, as his lifeblood seeped out of the wound. The bloody 
slaughter raged on as he struggled to keep the blackness from overcoming him. 
His last conscious thought was that at least Melanie was spared this. Finally 
the blackness completely swallowed him.
Snow Blossom's panicked steps matched the rapid beating of her heart. She 
clutched Little Arrow's hand. The two made their way toward the shelter of the 
sandpits amidst the chaos that surrounded them. Everything happened so fast. She 
prayed to the Great Spirit to help her people in this great time of need as she 
ran along.
Shots and screams filled the air from all directions. Directly behind her 
running for her life was Little Deer holding her infant son in her arms. Darting 
a glance behind her, Snow Blossom saw the Old One desperately hanging on to 
Little Deer's arm. A pang of sympathy tore through her. As horrible as it was to 
witness this terror, how much more frightening must it be to only hear it? She 
turned back around to concentrate on her own steps, her breathing heavy from her 
exertions. A loud bang followed by a shriek almost directly behind them turned 
Snow Blossom's head in that direction once again. A bright crimson stain spread 
across the chest of the blind woman a split second before she fell lifeless to 
the frozen ground.
The terror on Little Deer's face said it all. Death was close! If they didn't 
find cover soon, none of them would survive.
Snow Blossom pulled her nephew into the deep groove along the high bank of the 
creek, a quick glance around told her many others had sought refuge here as the 
bluecoats swarmed over the area firing at the terrified masses. She spotted Grey 
Fawn and her three children huddled deep in a sandpit directly across from them.
Sobs tore through her when she saw a crying little toddler seemingly all alone 
and confused. Two soldiers fired at the child missing as she watched in growing 
horror. Despite the danger, she could stand it no longer as the cruel soldiers 
laughed at their game. She stood up to run to the child when a third soldier's 
deadly aim found its mark.
A pair of strong hands yanked her back down into her hiding place and she turned 
tear-filled eyes to face Black Eagle. She collapsed sobbing into his strong 
arms.
When Chato regained consciousness, he heard no more gunfire. He peeked out of 
the deep pit that had successfully shielded him from the battle. A horrified 
gasp left his throat as he surveyed the carnage wrought by these soldiers. 
Bodies lay everywhere. Some scalped and mutilated beyond recognition. Obviously, 
for now at least, the bluecoats had returned to the main camp. Smoke coming from 
that direction billowed up into the gray overcast sky. He knew they were burning 
what little they had not already destroyed.
Cautiously, people began leaving their hiding places. Shivering from the intense 
cold and their wounds, they slowly made their way up the creek bed to reach a 
more permanent place of safety. Chato joined them fearfully glancing at each 
body he passed praying none would reveal Snow Blossom or Little Arrow. He 
momentarily stopped his painful trek to check the body of Horse Man, his 
features barely recognizable. He determined he was dead and the faces of the 
man's wife and three children swam in front of his vision as he felt their loss 
of a husband and father. Hatred burned deep within him over this cruel 
destruction of a peaceful people.
He spun around ready to defend himself in spite of his throbbing pain at the 
sounds of hoof beats. To his great relief he saw several ponies mounted by his 
own people. Apparently they had salvaged a few horses from their herd. He 
watched, as if in a trance, as Little Deer's dead baby was taken gently away 
from her and discarded despite her pitiful outcry. As the last pony drew closer, 
he joyfully recognized Black Eagle walking beside a mounted Snow Blossom and 
Little Arrow.
Joseph Simms lifted his head from between his knees as the nausea subsided. He 
was sick at heart. The day's work of these blood lusted, crazed soldiers spread 
out all around him as far as the eye could see. Never in all his years out here 
had he seen such bravery displayed by any people as he had witnessed from these 
Indians here today.
He faced the fact that his own view of them had undergone a drastic change since 
he'd first been assigned to Fort Benson several years earlier. Instead of the 
savage red men he had believed them to be at that time, he had now actually come 
to respect these proud people. He had no more stomach for this useless killing 
anymore. Perhaps Major Anthony was right. Maybe it was time for him to get out 
of the army. He made a vow to himself at this very moment, as he stood there 
surrounded by the stench of death and acrid smoke that permeated the air. When 
he was a civilian once again he intended to go to the proper authorities. He 
vowed he would tell the whole truth about what had taken place here today. 
Colonel Chivington and Major Anthony would not get away with this atrocity.
Melanie's mind allowed no rest for her weary body this night. She tossed the 
heavy blanket off and shivered as she left the warmth of her bed behind, to pad 
silently over to the window. The full moon illuminated the area surrounding the 
ranch house, giving it a magical appearance. The massive peaks in the dis-tance 
appeared as huge black mounds in the pale moonlight. Was Chato at the appointed 
spot already waiting for her or was it still too early? She knew there would not 
be much time because at first light the ranch would come alive with activity as 
ranch hands began their morning chores.
She pulled on the wool cloak Jim had bought her knowing the night air would be 
freezing cold. Excitement and anticipation tingled in her veins as this night, 
she had dreamed of and dreaded both at the same time, was finally here.
After heart-wrenching deliberations, she had decided she was not the right woman 
for Jim. She just wasn't cut out to be someone's docile puppet. She had come to 
the realization she would never be able to make him a proper wife.
Besides, she clearly saw now that she would never love him the way that she 
should love the man she would marry. In the years they'd been separated, they 
had grown apart. They were two very different people now than they had been back 
in Virginia. It also appeared he would never quite be able to forgive her for 
living among savages. That would always stand between them. And he'd never 
forgive her for not being a virgin. She hoped the note she had written would 
explain her feelings and he would not take her departure too hard.
A coward-that's what she was to leave a note rather than face him directly. 
Still, the last thing she needed right now was a scene with Jim. She'd take the 
pony Chato had given her and her doeskin dress that she already had on, along 
with this warm cloak. The rest of her clothes she would leave here. She had no 
right to them. She smiled to herself. Where she was headed, she'd have no use 
for them, anyway.
Aunt Jane's kind face rose to her mind and she experienced guilt over 
disappointing this woman. Aunt Jane had so looked forward to the wedding 
scheduled to take place three weeks from this very day. Now it would never take 
place.
She took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. There was nothing else she could 
do. She could not marry Jim while she was in love with another man. Her thoughts 
swiftly turned to Chato. His well-muscled body and strong, handsome face filled 
her vision from memory. She finally faced the truth. She loved him-only him, and 
always would. His arms made her feel safe and his touch ignited a fire deep 
within her. Would her decision surprise him? Why shouldn't it? She, herself, 
could still hardly believe that she felt more at home among his people than her 
own.
She glanced out the window. It was time to go. She moved to the chest of drawers 
and carefully took out the folded note from the top drawer, which she had penned 
earlier that day. She couldn't read it in the dim light, but she had it 
memorized.
Dear Jim,
I'm sorry to tell you this way, but I never was very brave when it came to 
hurting people. I've come to see, as I'm sure in time you will also, that our 
marriage would have been a grave mistake. I am returning to the Indians as I now 
believe that is where I belong. Please don't come after me. I hope you will 
someday be able to forgive me and find happiness for yourself with someone who 
is right for you.
Please apologize to your aunt and uncle and thank them for their hospitality.
Melanie
She placed it on the pillow and tiptoed silently to the bedroom door. Her heart 
pounded against her chest and her throat suddenly felt dry as she stealthily 
made her way along the dark corridor leading to the parlor and the front door. 
She trailed her hands along the wall so she would not stumble in the darkness.
Once outside, she tightened the wool garment closer around her shoulders against 
the sting of the biting cold wind. Each step she took toward the barn that 
housed her spotted pony raised her level of excitement. In just a few minutes 
she would be with the man she truly loved.
She couldn't believe it. Chato wasn't there! She waited shivering in the early 
morning cold, her heart sinking lower with each passing minute. He wasn't 
coming. Somehow, she knew it. But why? He was the one who made her promise to 
meet him in the first place. He had also said he loved her. She knew she should 
go back before she was caught out here. The note! She had to get back and 
destroy the note before anyone found it. Just a few more minutes. Maybe he'd 
somehow been delayed. She would wait a couple more minutes. He had to come. He 
loved her, didn't he?
With the door safely closed behind her, she strode across the room and sank down 
onto the bed finally releasing the flood of tears she had held in check for the 
past hour. She still couldn't believe he had not come to her. It was a miracle 
that she'd been able to return the pony to the stable and make it back inside 
the house without encountering anyone. Daybreak had just arrived and even as she 
had closed her bedroom door, she'd heard the first stirrings of early risers 
within the house.
She muffled her sobs into the soft pillow hoping no one would ever know of her 
sorrow. So engrossed in her grief was she, that she didn't hear the soft click 
of the door when it opened and then closed. But she did feel the gentle touch of 
a pair of arms encircle her. The soothing Spanish words at first made her cry 
even more as the hurt of Chato's abandonment crashed over her like a wave onto 
the shore. Slowly, however, the comforting tone of her friend's voice eased her 
pain a little and her sobs lessened. She turned to face the sympathetic 
chocolate brown eyes of Lucinda.
"It is all right, Melanie. Let it all out. You will feel better if you have a 
good cry."
Lucinda rocked back and forth as though she held a baby in her arms rather than 
a twenty-year-old woman. When there were no more tears to be squeezed out, she 
took the lace handkerchief Lucinda offered and loudly blew her nose. With some 
of her composure back, she spoke for the first time since returning to her room.
"Thank you."
"It is nothing. That is what friends are for, eh?" She hesitated a moment as if 
unsure about something, then asked the question. "Where were you going?"
Melanie studied her face for a long moment, not certain if she should confide in 
Lucinda or not but then, suddenly, the need to share her hurt with someone 
overtook her.
"How did you know I was leaving?"
"Because of this." Lucinda opened her hand to reveal her note to Jim. She 
continued, "I cannot read English, but I could think of no other reason why you 
would be absent from the ranch before the sun even came up and leave a note on 
your pillow. Was I right? Were you leaving forever?"
Her voice was a whisper. "Yes. I was planning to leave, but not anymore," she 
sadly added.
"Were you going to him, Melanie?"
Her eyes opened wide.
"Him? Who are you talking about?"
"That Indian-Chato, I think his name is."
"How did you know that?"
"When a woman is truly in love it is not so hard to tell. Each time you spoke to 
me of him, there was a special glow in your eyes. I knew you loved him. I never 
understood why you were preparing to marry Señor Colter when you so obviously 
loved another."
"I don't know. I was so confused. I thought I belonged here with my own people. 
In time, I hoped I'd forget my feelings for Chato. Can you understand?"
"I understand only that a woman should follow her heart, not her mind, when it 
comes to love."
"Lucinda," a hint of a smile slightly turned up the corners of her mouth, "You 
sound exactly like my father."
"Your father?" She looked bewildered at Melanie's words.
"My father was a true romantic. He believed in love as the only reason for 
marrying someone. Mother, on the other hand, thought there were many other 
reasons for marrying such as position and security."
All of a sudden it struck her that her father, if he were here, would approve of 
her love for Chato. And even though her mother, at first would have heartily 
condemned her feelings for the Indian, insisting she marry Jim who would someday 
have position and power in this territory, in the end she would have given in. 
She no longer felt any guilt over breaking her promise to her mother. In fact, 
she wasn't really breaking her promise at all. Her mother had made her promise 
to be happy and cared for. Chato had always cared for her and he made her happy. 
Since Chato no longer wanted her though, there was no choice to make. She would 
go through with her wedding as planned. Perhaps in time, the love would come. 
Perhaps, someday she would be happy with Jim.
She only hoped Jim would be able to overcome his disgust at her having lived 
with Indians.
Lucinda broke into her musings. "Why did you come back if you realize you love 
Chato now?"
Tears threatened again when she faced the concerned expression on her friend's 
face.
"Chato didn't come for me. He promised he would but I waited and he never came. 
I guess he doesn't really love me after all." A thought flowed across her mind 
that he might have fallen in love with one of the Indian maidens, perhaps even 
Snow Blossom. It pained her to dwell on that possibility right now so she 
forcefully shoved the thought aside.
"I am so sorry, Melanie," Lucinda hugged her tightly once again.
After a while she straightened up. There was no use crying about it any longer. 
There was no way she could make Chato love her if he didn't. Somehow, she'd have 
to find the courage to get on with her life. Her love for Chato and the time 
spent with Little Arrow and his people was a closed chapter in her life. She had 
no choice left except to try and open a new one with Jim.
She told Lucinda, "I'm going to wipe my eyes, get dressed, and go have some 
breakfast. It's time I started living my life in the present, instead of the 
past. No more looking back for me." Her words sounded more positive than she 
was.
Lucinda turned to leave. With her back to Melanie, she tucked the note into the 
pocket of her full skirt, and then left the room.
Melanie stared at the image of a young bride in the narrow mirror at the back of 
Madame Estelle's small dress shop. She had a difficult time registering the fact 
that the girl who stood in this exquisite gown was actually her.
The shopowner's voice requested, "Please step up onto the stool so I may adjust 
the hemline."
Melanie did as she was told and gingerly lifting the voluminous silk material, 
she stepped up onto the dressmaker's stool. She glanced down at Aunt Jane who up 
until now had not said a word about how she thought the wedding gown had turned 
out. From the expression on the older woman's face, she thought Aunt Jane was 
about to burst into tears at any moment.
"You are without a doubt the most beautiful bride this territory has ever seen," 
Aunt Jane whispered in awe.
"Oui, that she is," agreed the dressmaker.
At these gushing compliments from the two women, Melanie stared intently at her 
reflection. She had to agree the dress had turned out gorgeous. The shade seemed 
to set off her own natural coloring bringing out the green of her eyes and the 
red highlights in her golden hair. The lace trim around the neckline added a 
delicate appearance to her slim neck and face while the fullness of the skirt 
accented the minute proportions of her waist. The matching lace peeking through 
at six-inch intervals at the bottom added the final touch of perfection to the 
creation.
Next Melanie examined the smooth contours of her face deciding it had matured 
during this past year. The face that had left Virginia had been decidedly that 
of a young girl. The image that stared back at her now was definitely that of a 
woman.
Over the course of the next ten minutes, she dutifully turned this way and that 
as Madame Estelle worked on the hemline of her wedding gown. She still had a 
hard time believing in a week that she would say the words that would 
irrevocably make her Jim's wife. Lost in her own thoughts, she paid scant 
attention to the buzz of conversation taking place between Aunt Jane and the 
seamstress.
Ever since the morning Chato had failed to show up, she'd blocked all thoughts 
of him from her mind, resolving to make Jim the best wife she possibly could and 
to work hard on learning to love him and to try and be happy. Life was too short 
to live on regrets and on what might have been. Since she had no other family 
now, Jim, Aunt Jane, and Uncle Bob would become her family. And Lucinda would be 
her friend.
Suddenly, some of the discussion between Aunt Jane and the shop owner finally 
penetrated her thoughts and she interrupted Madame Estelle in the middle of a 
sentence.
"What did you say?" The woman appeared shocked at her rude question.
"Excuse, me, Madame, but could you please repeat what you just told Aunt Jane a 
moment ago?" she requested more politely.
"I said, at least now with that Indian camp destroyed, my supplies will finally 
be able to be safely delivered."
Her face drained of all color.
"Which village, what are you talking about?" she demanded, fear holding her 
heart in a stranglehold.
Noting the sudden pallor of Melanie's face, Aunt Jane asked, "Dear, what's 
wrong? You look as white as the gown you're wearing. Don't upset yourself over 
these..."
"Please, Aunt Jane, I need to know what you were discussing. I wasn't paying 
attention, please tell me what's happened to the Indians!"
The hysteria she felt rose with each second that passed and she stepped down off 
the low stool, too agitated to stand still.
"Mademoiselle, please calm yourself. It's only a bunch of savages at Sand Creek. 
Colonel Chivington has..."
"Sand Creek! Oh, my God!"
She grabbed hold of both of the dressmaker's arms and demanded.
"What happened there? What did they do to them?"
Frowning, she quickly answered, "A large number of soldiers attacked a group of 
Indians camped at Sand Creek. Many were killed. I heard talk of three hundred or 
more. The whole village was burned. I say good for them. They deserved it after 
all the killings and hardships they've caused. They're nothing but animals. I 
myself have lost business. Maybe this will teach them a lesson."
Melanie let go of the woman's arms and stood in a state of shock. Chato's people 
were attacked! And Little Arrow! Maybe the little boy was hurt. Maybe Chato was 
hurt! Oh, dear Lord. How could this happen? When she had left, they'd actively 
sought peace. All of a sudden, the gown she wore suffocated her-she could hardly 
breathe. She ran to the dressing room, totally ignoring the protests of the two 
women behind her, and tore the dress off of her body. As quickly as she could 
she donned her clothes and raced back to the center of the shop.
"I want to go home, Aunt Jane, right now."
"Melanie, you've got to stop this nonsense concerning these savages. They needed 
to be punished. The people of this territory are celebrating at this news. If 
people see you acting like this, you're going to embarrass Jim."
"I don't care."
Ignoring Aunt Jane's shocked intake of air, she continued.
"You don't understand. When I lived with these people, and yes they are 
people-they were moving to Sand Creek because they were making peace with the 
army. This never should have happened. They had no right to attack a peaceful 
village-no right at all." Hot tears scalded her eyes as the full horror of what 
had happened began to sink in. All the people she cared about could at this very 
moment be hurt or dead. She'd never be able to stand it if Little Arrow or Chato 
were hurt or killed. Now it was clear to her. Chato had not come for her because 
his people had been attacked. He was needed at home. It wasn't because he didn't 
love her-it was because he couldn't desert his people.
As she opened the door of the shop, not caring a wit who she embarrassed, she 
prayed with all her might that Chato, Little Arrow, and Snow Blossom were still 
alive.
Please, God, don't let them be dead.
"Absolutely not. It's out of the question. I don't want to hear any more about 
those savages. Whatever happened to them was their own doing. I'm sick to death 
of your redskin loving attitude!"
"Please, Jim, I must know what happened to Little Arrow. Please, I'm begging 
you, take me there to see if he's all right. I can't bear not knowing. If you 
really love me, you'll take me."
She ignored his insult, her eyes bright with tears and the anguish she felt 
written all over her face. This made him even angrier.
"Your place is here with me. Our wedding is only a week away. I refuse to even 
discuss this further."
He abruptly turned on his heel and left her standing in the parlor, grief 
stricken over the news of the massacre at Sand Creek. What was she going to do? 
She had to know the fate of Little Arrow and Chato. She simply had to. Her heart 
squeezed painfully at the merest thought of their possible deaths. She'd never 
rest until she found out if they were alive.
She hated Jim for his cold, callous, attitude toward the whole incident. He 
called the Indians savage, but what were those soldiers who cold-bloodedly 
killed people who were attempting to make peace? In her opinion, they were the 
savages.
She remembered the day at the Indian Village when she'd first seen Black Kettle. 
He had persuaded Lone Wolf's tribe to join him at Sand Creek in order to make 
peace with the soldiers. Peace! Now, maybe, even Black Kettle was dead for his 
trouble. Chato's words about her people continually breaking their promises to 
the Indians came back to haunt her. He was obviously right about the whites' 
treachery toward his people. The whole thing disgusted her. She was ashamed of 
her own kind.
Leaving the parlor, she headed for her bedroom. Once again, she was forced into 
taking matters into her own hands. She'd find a way to get back to Little 
Arrow's tribe all by herself. But she better plan well. This time there would be 
no Chato to save her. The painful reality of this sliced through her as she 
closed her bedroom door.
Night settled over the ranch and Melanie checked over her list of supplies: 
blankets, food, water. As soon as everyone was asleep, she would be on her way. 
She hoped with all her might that she would be able to find her way back to 
where the Indians were, but she was scared. If only there was another way. If 
only Jim had agreed to help her. Well, she couldn't live her life on "if 
only's." At least now she knew Jim didn't really love her. She suspected he was 
too self-centered to ever truly love anyone but himself. If he cared about her 
feelings at all, he would have taken her to find out the fate of her friends. 
No, whatever happened now, she clearly knew she would never marry Jim.
The faint knock on the door stopped her thoughts. She quickly shoved the 
supplies for her trip under the bed. Relief flooded over her when she opened the 
door to Lucinda.
"Are you all right? I just overheard Señor Colter speaking to his uncle about 
what happened to the Indians."
"Lucinda. Come in." After she'd securely closed the door she whispered, "Promise 
me you won't tell anyone?"
"Of course not."
"I'm leaving here tonight to return to Chato. I have to know what happened to 
him. I don't love Jim and I can't marry him."
"I will miss you. But I am glad you will not marry that awful man."
The two girls hugged, tears streaming down both their pretty faces.
Then, Lucinda broke away.
"Melanie, could I come with you?"
Lucinda's question caught her by surprise. "Do you want to?" At Lucinda's quick 
nod, she added, "But, I'm not planning on ever coming back."
She waited for the girl's reaction to this.
"I do not wish to ever return here, either," Lucinda replied.
"Then it's settled. We're both going."
"I will be right back," Lucinda whispered.
When she returned, Melanie was shocked to see her letter in the girl's hand. She 
had forgotten all about it.
"You saved it?"
"Sí, I had a feeling you might want it."
Melanie thought for a moment. "You'll need a horse. I know. I'll ride the pony 
Chato gave me and you can ride Black Star. She's very gentle. As an 
afterthought, she asked, "You can ride, can't you?"
"Sí. I can ride."
"Go back to your room now and I'll come for you when everything is quiet," she 
instructed.
After Lucinda left, she paced back and forth in her room impatiently waiting for 
the inhabitants of the house to settle in for the night. The seconds seemed like 
hours.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"Oh, I do declare, Lucinda. I've done it again. We'll never find the village. 
Why do I keep doing this?" Melanie felt her lower lip quiver.
"Doing what?" Lucinda shouted to be heard above the roar of the wind.
"Acting without thinking. Overestimating my abilities. I always think I can do 
things and find places when I can't." Her voice reflected the rising hysteria 
building within her with each step of her horse. Tears threatened to burst forth 
at any moment.
"It is only our fourth day of travel, chica. I think you are doing a fine job! 
Each night you found us a good place to camp and you built fires to keep us from 
freezing. Stop being so hard on yourself," she shouted back. "We will find the 
camp."
Melanie tried to take comfort from her friend's encouraging words but she was so 
cold and she fought a rising panic. She thought back over all the times in her 
life her impetuous nature had gotten her into trouble. The times during her 
childhood were too numerous to even count now. But more recently she'd saved 
Little Arrow, sneaked out of the fort with him, and now once again, here she 
was-smack in the middle of the consequences of her latest impetuous act. Even 
though at the time she'd been scared half to death, she never regretted saving 
Little Arrow and returning him to his family. Foolish as it may have been, she'd 
do it all again if she had to. Her ma was right. She was hopeless. Please, she 
silently prayed, let this latest adventure turn out as well as the others.
She estimated that if they had journeyed in the right direction, they should 
find the Indian village in about two more days. She'd better be right, she 
thought, because they only had enough food and water left for two days. If they 
were headed in the wrong direction, they could be in very big trouble, 
especially if it snowed. She glanced up at the sky fearfully. It did look 
awfully gray.
The horses plodded on and Melanie grew colder and wearier by the minute. So far 
the trip had been fairly uneventful. Melanie hoped it would stay that way.
"Look, Melanie, smoke! Do you see it?"
Her head shot up at Lucinda's excited words. "The Indian Village. It must be the 
village," she yelled back. Her heartbeat accelerated in anticipation-then stark 
fear coursed through her. What would she find when she reached this camp? Who 
would she find? And worse-who would she not find?
As they neared the tall swirls of smoke that rose up only to disappear into the 
murky gray of the sky, a small number of tipis came into view. It occurred to 
her then that they had found it too soon. Melanie realized either the Cheyenne 
had moved, or else they were approaching the wrong tribe. This definitely was 
not Sand Creek. Everything looked different than she remembered.
Cautiously, they approached. Fear held her tightly in its grip-she could hardly 
breathe or swallow. She saw some people milling around the small camp but they 
were too far away for her to distinguish their features. For a few seconds, she 
could not decide whether it was safe to enter this village not knowing if it was 
actually Little Arrow's people or not. But, with their food supply so low, and 
the color of the sky threatening snow, they really didn't have much choice.
Shouts filled the air a moment later when they were apparently spotted by the 
lookout. People emerged from several lodges at the cries.
She faced her friend.
"Well, it's too late now to change our minds. We've been seen." She forced a 
smile hoping to conceal her nervousness.
"Melanie!"
She thought her heart would burst with joy when she heard that familiar voice. 
She turned to face Little Arrow running toward her at breakneck speed. She 
reined in her pony and jumped to the ground to embrace her little boy, eyes 
brimming with glistening teardrops.
Sobs of relief shook her and she couldn't bear to let him go. She never wanted 
to let him out of her sight ever again. "Thank you, God," she whispered. When at 
last he wriggled free of her tight embrace, she was shocked to see a lone 
teardrop trail down one small cheek. She had never seen him cry before.
"The Bluecoats came. My father was killed and grandfather was hurt bad but he is 
going to get better."
Tears filled her throat and she gathered him close once again. Sympathy tore 
through her heart for this brave little child who was now an orphan.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry my people did such a horrible thing. I'm 
ashamed," she whispered in his ear, her tears freely flowing. Her heart 
constricted. Tall Bear had been a good man. He didn't deserve to die.
When they separated again, she had to ask the question but the words stuck in 
her throat. It took several attempts before she could make them come out right.
"Chato. What about Chato, Little Arrow?" Time froze as she held her breath 
afraid to hear his answer.
"He was shot in his side but he is getting better now."
She released her breath feeling whole again for the first time in two months. 
Suddenly, a desperate need to go to him seized her but she remembered Lucinda. 
Standing up she led Little Arrow over to where Lucinda stood beside her horse.
"This is my friend, Lucinda, Little Arrow," she introduced. "She's very nice. I 
know you're going to like her."
"Hello, Little Arrow. I'm very glad to meet you," she said smiling at the boy 
she had heard so much about.
"If you Melanie's friend, I welcome you to village." He sounded like a little 
adult and Melanie felt so very proud of him. She smiled down at him and then was 
about to ask if he could show her where Chato was when she spotted a 
familiar-looking couple out of the corner of her eyes. She swiveled around to 
fully face them, and her eyes opened wide with delight. She rushed up to them.
"Snow Blossom-Black Eagle. I'm so happy you're both safe."
"It is good to see you also," Black Eagle replied.
Snow Blossom hugged her and tears of happiness spilled down both their faces. 
When they at last broke contact, Snow Blossom asked, "What are you doing here? 
How did you find us?"
"It's a miracle that I did."
"Miracle, I do not know this word," Snow Blossom said.
"Never mind now. I'll explain later. First I want to see Chato. Is he really all 
right? Please tell me the truth," she entreated.
"Yes. The Great Spirit watched over him, but my brother..." Her words trailed 
off as she became overcome with emotion.
"I know. Little Arrow told me. I'm so sorry, Snow Blossom." It hurt her deeply 
to again see the suffering and sorrow of these people whom she cared so much 
about.
Regaining her composure once more, Snow Blossom took
Melanie's hand and led her away. Black Eagle walked along with them.
"Wait," Little Arrow called to them. "I will take Melanie to see Chato. You and 
Black Eagle show her friend where to stay."
His words instantly halted their strides. The depth of Little Arrow's maturity 
amazed Melanie. He had subtly pointed out their rudeness toward Lucinda. 
Chagrined at having to be reminded of her manners by a young child, she quickly 
introduced Lucinda to Snow Blossom and Black Eagle.
After a few words were exchanged, the couple led Lucinda away to find a place 
where she could stay, as they themselves turned to leave. She had no trouble 
keeping up with Little Arrow's fast pace even though nervousness and doubts 
assaulted her. Did Chato still love her? Would he be happy to see her? Would he 
want her to stay?
They stopped short in front of a small lodge and all of a sudden the answers to 
her questions were just a heartbeat away.
"He is inside. Do you want me to stay with you or go?" Little Arrow asked.
"I'd like to see Chato alone for a few minutes, honey. Is that all right with 
you?"
"I will take care of horses and come back later." He smiled a knowing smile that 
seemed years beyond his young age before sprinting off.
She took a deep breath, hesitated a few seconds more, then lifted the flap and 
stepped inside. A small fire burned in the center softly illuminating the 
interior of the structure.
Her eyes darted immediately to the man who lay sleeping on the mat to one side. 
Her heart swelled at the sight of him and she knelt beside his still form as her 
pent up love for him gushed forth all at once. His eyes were closed but the very 
second she touched his bare arm which peeked out from under the buffalo robe, 
they flew open. She had forgotten just how dark they were.
"Oh, Chato. I've missed you so much. I've been so worried about you, not 
knowing..." Hot tears scalded her eyes and scorched a fiery path down her 
cheeks.
"Melanie?" He questioned his vision as his voice whispered her name. Tears 
filled his eyes at the sight of her. He blinked. She was real.
"Yes. It's me."
He grunted as he turned on his good side to view her face more fully and 
flinched when a stab of pain sliced through his wound. His injury though healing 
was still quite tender.
"Do you hurt very much?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
He ignored her question completely and instead asked one of his own.
"Are you here to stay,cinstinna ?" His wound was completely forgotten as he 
waited to hear her say the words he had dreamed of hearing for over two moons.
"Yes, Oh, Chato, I love you, I do. I've loved you longer than I knew." She had 
finally said the words.
He opened his arms and she gently slid into them feeling she was where she 
belonged at last. If she had anything to do with it, she would never leave his 
side again as long as she lived.
He nestled her into the crook of his arm, careful not to put too much pressure 
on his side. His heart soared with the joy of holding her after having been 
denied that emotion for so long.
"Who brought you here?"
"No one. I found the village by myself."
He was momentarily shocked at her words but then he chided himself. Why should 
he be surprised? Hadn't she always, from the very first day he'd met her, 
crossed over the line between foolish and brave? That was his Melanie.
Exasperated, he announced, "I see that you still have not learned the difference 
between being brave and being foolish. I am simply going to have to keep you 
here with me so you will be safe once and for all."
She looked up at him knowing he was waiting for an argument from her. But this 
time his know-it-all grin and smug tone of voice did not anger her. She was 
exactly where she wanted to be. He had dreamed of this moment when she would be 
back in his arms and back in his life. Even though there was much he needed to 
tell her and so very much he wanted to hear from her, now was not the time. They 
would have the rest of their lives for talking. His heated gaze moved over her 
beautiful face and slender form.
"Waste cedake-I love you,cinstinna . Without you my life has been empty and 
meaningless."
"Does that mean that you desire me to stay?" she teased.
"Come here, woman, and I'll show you just how much," he countered pulling her 
closer to his lean body. His mouth quickly found hers and a feeling of total 
contentment descended upon him. Peace and joy were now back in his world. He 
molded her curves to the length of him ignoring the twinges of pain that shot 
out from his wound. Hot need for her pumped through his body as his tongue 
invaded the sweet recesses of her mouth. This woman stirred him more than any 
woman ever had, or ever would.
Her passion rose to meet his as his hungry hands explored her contours. She 
accepted his furious lovemaking as her own long held-in-check emotions and 
sensations burst forth bringing with them joy and fulfillment. In this man's 
arms was where she truly belonged. No more doubts. She was home at last.
Epilogue
April - 1866
The prairie was bathed in the golden glow of the hot sun that streamed down 
warming the earth below. Little Arrow picked a bright red wildflower that just 
bloomed today and trotted over to the tiny infant, seated on her mother's lap. 
Chubby little fingers closed over her brother's gift as squeals of delight 
babbled from her lips.
Melanie sat beside Chato, a feeling of deep contentment filling her heart, and 
gazed down at their seven-month-old daughter who already bore a distinct 
resemblance to herself. Her own green eyes stared back at her but they were in 
startling contrast to her coal-black hair inherited from her Indian father.
Snow Blossom, heavy with child, waved and smiled from the doorway of the tipi 
directly across from the one that she, Chato, Little Arrow, and Little Flower 
shared.
She returned her friend's wave and smiled with great happiness. All was right 
with her world these days. She and Chato couldn't be happier as man and wife. 
Snow Blossom had graciously agreed to allow Little Arrow to be raised as their 
son and now they had been blessed with their beautiful daughter.
Lucinda walked by then in the company of Running Elk. Lately he sought the young 
Mexican beauty out at every turn. Melanie could tell from Lucinda's flirtatious 
actions that she was not adverse to his attentions either.
Yes, spring had truly arrived in the Cheyenne camp in more ways than one.
THE END
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Sadly, our history is full of brutal and often senseless clashes between the 
western settlers and the Native Americans who populated the plains. One of the 
most tragic of these clashes came to be known as the Sand Creek Massacre.
In the summer of 1864 around the Denver area, hostilities were high between the 
whites and the Indians. Atrocities followed by retribution escalated on both 
sides. By August, the emotions of the territory had risen to a boiling hatred of 
all redmen. Peaceful Indians became indistinguishable from hostile ones within 
this atmosphere of hatred and mistrust.
During the fall of 1864, a large group of Cheyennes, led by Black Kettle along 
with a band of Arapahos, camped on Big South Bend of Sand Creek, (a tributary of 
the Arkansas River) about thirty miles northeast of Fort Lyons. Believing that 
his people were under the protection of the United States government, Black 
Kettle raised an American flag over his camp.
Colonel John Milton Chivington, a stiff, proud, man was placed in command of an 
expedition to Sand Creek. At Fort Lyons, his men were joined by the First 
Colorado Cavalry under Major Scott Anthony. His mission was to open up 
communications cut off by the redskins' war.
On November 29, 1864, between daybreak and sunrise, the sleepy Indians awoke to 
the sound of gunfire. Black Kettle, not able to believe his peaceful people were 
being attacked by soldiers, hoisted an American flag above a small white one on 
his lodge pole. Despite this, furious fire was poured into all Indians-women and 
children were not spared. Few prisoners were taken and the dead were scalped. 
One hundred of these grisly trophies were actually exhibited in Denver. When it 
was all over, more than three hundred Indians had been killed.
At first, Colonel Chivington was considered a hero, and the battle was hailed as 
a great victory. But later, when the true facts finally came out, it was called 
a massacre, Chivington was put on trial, and he resigned his commission in 1865. 
As for Black Kettle, known by the Indians as Moke-ta-ra-to, he will be 
remembered for his attempts to live in peace with the white settlers. He 
survived the Sand Creek Massacre but was killed four years later on November 27, 
1868, when General George A. Custer led a surprise attack on the Cheyenne camp 
near the site of present-day Cheyenne, Oklahoma.
I have tried to portray the historical facts as accurately as possible. However, 
Fort Benson was not a real fort although it is modeled after the western forts 
of this time period, and Captain Simms was not a real commander.



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