By late winter, Evelyn knew something was different.
She did not say it.
Hope had betrayed her too many times.
Her monthly bleeding did not come.
She waited.
Five days.
Seven.
Ten.
She blamed winter.
Exhaustion.
Stress.
Then came nausea.
Nayeli noticed before Evelyn admitted anything.
Evelyn was kneeling beside a pot one morning when the smell of cooked meat suddenly turned her stomach.
She stood so quickly that she nearly knocked the pot over.
Nayeli watched her run outside.
Several minutes later, Evelyn returned pale.
Nayeli handed her water.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Nayeli stared.
“Bad meat?”
“The meat is fine.”
“Sick?”
“No.”
Nayeli’s eyes narrowed.
Evelyn recognized the exact moment suspicion formed.
“No.”
Nayeli had not spoken.
“Do not say it.”
Nayeli’s expression became almost offended.
“I say nothing.”
“You were about to.”
“No.”
“You absolutely were.”
Nayeli walked away smiling.
Evelyn sat alone for a long time.
She refused to tell Takoda.
Not yet.
She had believed herself pregnant twice during her marriage.
Once she had been six days late.
The second time nearly two weeks.
Both times she had told Thomas.
Both times they had allowed themselves to hope.
Both times the bleeding eventually came.
She could still remember Thomas’s expression the second time.
He had said nothing cruel.
He had not needed to.
Evelyn would not do that again.
Another week passed.
Her body continued changing.
Her breasts were tender.
Fatigue came without warning.
Food tasted different.
Finally Nayeli cornered her.
The older woman pointed toward the ground.
“Sit.”
“Nayeli—”
“Sit.”
Evelyn sat.
Nayeli examined her with the same blunt practicality she applied to everything.
Questions.
Observation.
A hand against Evelyn’s abdomen.
Then she sat back.
“You know.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You cannot know.”
“No.”
Nayeli placed her hand against Evelyn’s.
“Maybe baby.”
Evelyn started crying.
Nayeli’s certainty softened.
“Maybe,” she repeated carefully.
That word mattered.
Not promise.
Possibility.
Evelyn found Takoda near the horses that evening.
For once, she did not know how to begin.
Takoda saw her face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad.”
His tension eased only slightly.
“Then what?”
Evelyn opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Takoda waited.
She almost laughed.
Of course he did.
Finally she whispered, “I may be carrying a child.”
Takoda did not move.
Evelyn watched the words reach him.
His eyes widened slightly.
“You are certain?”
“No.”
She shook her head quickly.
“No, and that is important. Nayeli thinks so. I think so. But I have been wrong before.”
Takoda stepped closer.
Evelyn raised a hand.
“Please don’t look too happy.”
He stopped.
The request hurt him.
She saw it.
“I’m sorry.”
“You are afraid hope will punish you.”
Evelyn nodded.
Takoda absorbed that.
Then he did something she would remember for the rest of her life.
He did not celebrate.
He did not touch her stomach.
He did not speak about sons or daughters or names.
He simply held out his hand.
Evelyn placed hers in it.
“We wait,” he said.
She exhaled.
“We wait.”
The next weeks were filled with quiet hope.
Then danger arrived from somewhere completely unrelated.
Samuel Pike returned.
This time he brought six men.
They appeared near the camp shortly before sunset.
Takoda and several others rode out to meet them.
Evelyn saw Pike’s expression and immediately knew this was not a social visit.
She followed.
“Mrs. Harper.”
“It is Evelyn now.”
Pike’s eyes flicked toward Takoda.
“I heard.”
“What do you want?”
“A group of cattle disappeared from a ranch south of Redstone Creek.”
Takoda’s face hardened.
“And?”
Pike looked at him.
“Tracks lead north.”
“There are many people north.”
“One ranch hand claims he saw Comanche riders.”
“Which riders?”
“He couldn’t identify them.”
Takoda’s jaw tightened.
Evelyn understood immediately.
“You came here without evidence.”
Pike ignored her.
“We’re searching.”
“No,” Takoda said.
Pike placed one hand near his revolver.
“That wasn’t a request.”
Evelyn stepped between them.
Again.
Takoda muttered her name.
She did not move.
“If you have lawful authority, show it.”
Pike stared at her.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m a deputy.”
“That does not make every demand lawful.”
Pike almost laughed.
“You’ve been reading law books now?”
“My father served as county clerk for fourteen years. I copied legal notices for him when I was fifteen.”
That was true.
She had hated every minute of it.
For once, it was useful.
“If you are investigating theft, investigate. But you do not get to treat an entire community as guilty because your witness saw riders and decided that was enough.”
One of Pike’s men shifted uncomfortably.
Pike’s eyes hardened.
“You have changed.”
Evelyn smiled without warmth.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think for the better.”
“That is convenient, since I stopped living for your approval.”
Takoda almost smiled.
The confrontation might have ended there.
Then shouting came from the edge of camp.
Two of Pike’s men had ridden ahead without permission.
A frightened horse reared.
A boy jumped aside.
One rider grabbed a young man by the arm.
Everything exploded at once.
Takoda moved.
Evelyn shouted.
Someone drew a weapon.
A rifle cracked.
The sound froze everyone.
Takoda staggered.
Evelyn’s entire world stopped.
Blood darkened his upper arm.
“Takoda!”
She reached him as he dropped to one knee.
The shot had entered high near the shoulder.
Not his chest.
Thank God.
Men shouted.
Pike screamed at his own rider to lower the rifle.
The man looked horrified.
“It went off!”
Evelyn did not care.
“Inside,” she ordered.
Takoda tried to stand.
“I can walk.”
“Wonderful. Do it.”
Even terrified, she sounded like her mother.
They brought him into a lodge.
Nayeli came immediately.
The bullet had passed through.
That was the first mercy.
No shattered bone.
The second.
But blood loss was significant.
Evelyn cleaned the wound with shaking hands.
“Stop.”
Takoda’s voice was weak.
“Stop what?”
“Being afraid.”
She glared at him.
“I will be afraid whenever I please.”
He almost smiled.
“Good.”
Then he fainted.
Evelyn worked for hours.
By midnight, bleeding had slowed.
By dawn, fever had not begun.
She sat beside him, exhausted.
Only after the danger seemed reduced did she remember the life that might be growing inside her.
Fear doubled.
Takoda woke near midday.
“You are still here.”
“Where would I go?”
“West?”
She stared.
“Do not make jokes after being shot.”
“I will remember.”
“You’d better.”
Takoda’s eyes moved toward her abdomen.
Evelyn knew what he was thinking.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
The truth frightened them both.
But days passed.
She remained well.
Takoda improved.
Meanwhile Pike found the stolen cattle.
Two white ranch hands had taken them, hoping suspicion would fall elsewhere.
The deputy returned alone.
Evelyn met him outside camp.
“I came to apologize.”
“To me?”
“To everyone.”
“That would take longer.”
He accepted the rebuke.
“The man who fired has been removed from duty.”
“And charged?”
“Investigation is underway.”
Evelyn crossed her arms.
Pike looked toward Takoda, whose arm remained bound.
“I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
Pike almost smiled.
“You don’t make apologies easy.”
“They are not supposed to erase consequences.”
He nodded.
Then removed his hat.
“For whatever it is worth, I am sorry.”
Evelyn believed he meant it.
That did not make everything fine.
But it mattered.
After he left, Takoda joined her.
“You frightened him.”
“Good.”
“He may never return.”
“Even better.”
Takoda smiled.
Then winced because his shoulder hurt.
Evelyn frowned.
“Inside.”
“I am tired of resting.”
“I do not care.”
“You have become very commanding.”
“I learned from Nayeli.”
“That explains much.”
Spring arrived.
Grass appeared.
Rivers swelled.
Animals returned.
Evelyn’s pregnancy became impossible to deny.
Her waist changed.
Then one morning she felt something.
A flutter.
She froze.
Again.
Tiny.
Impossible.
Alive.
Evelyn pressed both hands against her abdomen.
“Takoda.”
He turned from the doorway.
“What?”
“Come here.”
He saw her expression and crossed the space instantly.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She took his hand.
Placed it low against the small curve of her stomach.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the baby moved.
Takoda became perfectly still.
Evelyn watched his face.
The giant warrior who could remain calm while men pointed rifles at him suddenly looked stunned.
Again.
A tiny movement beneath his palm.
Takoda sank slowly to his knees.
He rested his forehead against Evelyn.
Neither spoke.
Tears ran down her cheeks.
Takoda’s eyes were wet too.
Finally Evelyn whispered, “I thought this would prove something.”
He looked up.
“To who?”
“Everyone.”
She smiled through tears.
“Your mother-in-law?”
“Her. The doctor. Thomas. Myself.”
Takoda stood.
“And now?”
Evelyn looked down at their child.
“Now I don’t want to prove anything.”
She placed his hand back over the small movement.
“I just want this baby to know it was loved before we ever saw its face.”
Takoda kissed her forehead.
“It will.”
For the first time, Evelyn believed him without fear.