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"My friend comes."

"What friend?" asked Czanna.

"Istisitsa Ohkitópii, First Rider," Stands Strong responded. "We have been scouting together for our chiefs. He went to discover what had happened to your man. He brings the man with him."

"The man?"

"This man who was with you and your family, but who left you to seek revenge. He is greatly injured. My friend has made a travois for him."

"A travois? What is a travois?"

Stands Strong nodded, but his attention was not upon her and he didn't answer her questions. Instead, he was gazing forward, though occasionally he glanced both right and left.

The crisp scent of dawn had, at last, arrived, although only blue and pink shadows from the sun fell upon the land. And, at the present moment, Czanna was at the helm of the prairie schooner, while Liliann walked beside the wagon on her right, Liliann carrying Briella on her hip. Stands Strong, who was on Czanna's left, was keeping his pony down to a walk, his pony matching the steps of the other horses.

"How badly injured is Mr. Henrik?" asked Czanna.

"I do not know," answered Stands Strong. "My friend only tells me they are coming."

"Tells you?"

He nodded.

"Are he and Mr. Henrik here, then?"

"Not yet," said Stands Strong. "They will, however, be here soon."

"But, how can he find you?" asked Czanna. "And, how do you know he comes with Mr. Henrik?"

"Scout talk," he answered.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked. "What is scout talk?"

"Silent talk. Mind-to-mind speak."

"Mind-to-mind speak?" Czanna gulped. Was this man's mind perhaps touched by the sun? Or could he really speak to people in perhaps a similar way she could talk to animals? "What is this you are telling me? I have never heard of this mind-to-mind talk."

"I have not the time to explain," he answered. "Know only they will be here soon. My friend did not tell me the condition of your Mr. Henrik."

"He is not my Mr. Henrik," Czanna said. "He was…is my father's manservant. Oh dear, if Mr. Henrik is badly injured, will he be able to recover?"

"I do not know. We will have to discover this once they join us. I must go now."

"But—"

She stopped speaking since she was now talking to the wind. Stands Strong was already galloping away.

What, in the name of the Good Lord, was "scout talk"? And, what was a "travois"? Czanna closed her eyes for a moment. What else was she going to discover in this strange and foreign land? In truth, the concept of two people "speaking" to one another over a great distance…this "scout talk"—whatever it was—only served to strengthen the conclusion she had already made: she did not belong here.

However, she reminded herself of her own similar experience with silently speaking to horses. Didn't she talk to them, and they back to her?

But, similar though the concept might be, it was still different. She had talked to horses that had been standing next to her; she had never "talked" mind to mind with another human being, and especially not one who was at some distant point away from her.

Yet, if Stands Strong's news were true and Mr. Henrik were coming back to them, wasn't the news hopeful? If Mr. Henrik were injured but still alive, could it not follow that, once recovered, he could take back the reins of leading her family to their cousin?

And, if he were to recover, there might not be a need to urge Stands Strong into having a clandestine affair with her. Or would there be?

Wasn't it true that Mr. Henrik, much like her, was unfamiliar with this country? It was why he had hired Hanson, the scout who had betrayed them. But, if Mr. Henrik chose not to hire Stands Strong—or if Stands Strong refused the position due to there being no "pact" between himself and her—Mr. Henrik would have no choice but to hire another man, perhaps another Indian who might be willing to accept gold in payment for his services.

At the thought, a strong feeling of disappointment swept over her, and Czanna knew the reason why: she wasn't being fair to Stands Strong. She had offered him a pact. If he accepted her suggestion, she was bound to it, same as he.

But, there was now another, though different, predicament. Earlier, on this very morning, she had spoken the truth to Stands Strong when she had told him she was in love with him.

After all, how could she not love the man? He was intelligent, handsome and he knew his way around the mountains and the prairies of this land. Plus, he had come to her aid without a moment's thought given to his own comfort…perhaps even to his life.

There was also this morning to consider: only a short while ago she had melted in his arms, wishing he would do more than merely kiss her. Indeed, so strong was her desire to bring him in close to her, she almost ached with the need.

Truth was, were he on a par with her socially, she might very well be inclined to accept his proposal of marriage.

But, he was not her equal, and a union between them could never happen; their differences were too numerous. She knew she would never make a suitable wife for him—one who would be subservient to him and who would submit to the drudgery of whatever were the wifely chores of an Indian man's wife. Nor could he ever be the sort of husband she was expected and required to find and to marry—one who would be of a similar circumstance as she and who would accumulate the wealth required for her family's needs.

In truth, she and Stands Strong were worlds apart, and to ask either of them to change the manner of their lifestyle was simply unthinkable and unfair to them both, as well as to their families.

Yet, she craved his touch. And, obviously, he must also enjoy hers.

Maybe, given time, he might consent to engage in an affair of the heart—one that would ultimately allow them both to walk away without damaging one another.

She closed her eyes as a feeling of remorse overtook her. Would a mere love affair ultimately hurt him? This she did not wish to do.

But, it was unlikely she would hurt him. Indeed, he didn't love her. It was evident in the way he avoided answering her questions about love, stating instead how he wished to make love to her.

But, loving someone and making love to that someone were different. Even she, as unschooled as she was in the endeavor, knew this.

Well, it was useless to think about it. Her future life with a husband of a similar social status as hers seemed a long way off into the future. Truly, there was no sense in worrying about it now.

But, if Mr. Henrik survived—and she prayed he would—there was one matter she would ensure: only Stands Strong would be their guide. It would be he, indeed, and no other who would take them to her cousin's home in the Glacier Mountains. And, Stands Strong would be well paid for his efforts. She would ensure it.

****

The sun was high and the day was becoming quite warm when Czanna espied an Indian man standing atop a gentle rise upon the surrounding green and brown grasses of the prairie. The man was engaged in waving his robe in an extremely odd manner, and he made the gesture over and over before he then began walking his horse down the slope of the hill.

Placing a hand above her eyes, Czanna could see the horse—and it was dragging an odd-looking contraption behind it. Even from a distance, Czanna could discern two—or was it four?—long, strong poles attached to the animal on both sides of its body, their attachment utilizing some means of ropes to secure them, and in between the two poles were several shorter branches of wood stretched together to form a kind of bed. And, on the bed was…

Was it a man? Was it Mr. Henrik? Further, was the setup being pulled behind the horse called a "travois"? And, putting the facts all in order, if Stands Strong had been right about his friend bringing Mr. Henrik to them, was the concept of mind-talk actually real?

Czanna felt as though her thoughts were spinning out of her control. If this were true, then it would follow that this mind-to-mind speak was real, indeed. And if this were so—and looking at the lone Indian, his horse and the travois which she could see were quite solid and of this world—she knew she did not belong here in this strange world of prairie, grasslands and mountains. Nothing of the society she had left behind had ever prepared her to learn of a people who could speak to one another through a mind connection—and at a distance.

As she pondered upon her thoughts, the heat from the sun overhead seemed to pound down upon her, causing Czanna to feel unusually warm and headachy. In response, she slid her woolen shawl off her shoulders and placed it next to her on the wooden seat.

Because of her uncertainty and confusion, she made a decision: she wouldn't think about this "scout talk" until she had a chance to question Stands Strong a little more about it. Placing her hand over her eyes again to block out the early morning sun, she watched as Stands Strong and George rode out to converge with the other Indian and his horse-pulled travois. She then saw Stands Strong—who, upon reaching them first, had jumped from his pony and stepped toward the travois—gaze down at the one who was lying stretched out upon it. The other Indian—the fellow scout who must be Stands Strong's friend—and George followed. And, as the three of them stood around the person on the travois, Czanna saw George reach out to take the injured one's hand.

The man—it had to be Henrik—did not respond.

"What is happening, Mistress Czanna?" asked Liliann.

"I think," answered Czanna, "the poor fellow on the travois over there"—she pointed—"might be your father. A day or two ago, Stands Strong told me his friend was journeying to find your father. And, this morning he also told me his friend was bringing your father here. I am sorry to tell you this, but your father is greatly injured."

Liliann gasped. "Greatly injured? I must go to him at once."

"Of course you must," said Czanna. "Here, give me the baby, and please feel free to go to your father and be with him as long as you wish. I will keep my little sister with me."

Czanna had barely spoken the words, when Liliann took hold of the baby and, giving Briella a quick kiss, handed the child up to Czanna. Liliann's hands were shaking.

Briefly, Liliann gazed up at Czanna and said, "Thank you Mistress. I shall go to him now."

Czanna nodded. Liliann's lips had twitched with every word she'd spoken, and Czanna watched as the young girl raced over the prairie toward the men. From a distance, Czanna heard the girl's scream and watched as Liliann threw herself upon her father.

Oddly, it was Stands Strong's friend who bent down toward Liliann, and took her hand into his own. Meanwhile, Czanna looked on as Stands Strong squatted next to his friend, and the two men conversed in both words and a few hand motions, and, had she been able to leave the wagon, she would have joined them there, too.

"Liliann," said Briella in perfect English, her index finger pointing to the maid. "Gone."

"Yes," said Czanna, "but Liliann is not gone for very long. She will be coming back. You see, she is only visiting her father, who is ill. We are lucky that Mr. Stands Strong and his friend decided to help us. I will be grateful to them both, and I shan't forget their kindness toward us. No, indeed, I shan't forget."

"Go there!"

"No, not now," said Czanna. "We must remain here with the prairie wagon and the horses. But, I think there are some of your toys in the back of the wagon, if you would like to play with them. I think Dolly is back there."

"Yes," said Briella. "Dolly. Needs nap."

Czanna smiled as she released her sister and guided her to crawl into the back. Czanna murmured softly, "I only wish I could take a nap with Dolly."

"I nap, too," said Briella as she picked up her doll and, holding Dolly close, laid down, keeping the doll firmly held within her small arms.

****

It wasn't long before Czanna saw Stands Strong rise to his feet and jump up onto his pony's back. Then, taking his seat, he pressed the animal into a run down the slope, his direction toward her and the wagon. He reined in just short of them. But, he didn't speak. Instead, he gazed at Czanna, and it was she who took the lead and asked, "How is Mr. Henrik?"

Stands Strong dismounted, and, holding onto his pony's reins, he climbed up onto the seat next to her. Quickly settling himself, he said, "He is injured…bad. He is dead to the world, although his body still lives."

"He is dead?!"

"His body lives on, but his shadow is gone."

"What do you mean, 'his shadow is gone'? And, what is a 'shadow'?"

"The essence of who he is, his spirit or soul, as you call it. It is not with him now."

"Then, he is as good as dead? Is it this you mean to say?"

"Saa, it is not. Often when a warrior goes out alone to find his medicine, he fasts for several days and nights. After a time, his shadow leaves his body to have adventures upon the plains and to find, if he can, his medicine and his medicine helper. But, this man you call Henrik, is close to death. First Rider and I have decided that if we are to help him we must take him to Grass Woman Springs. The water there is healing, though it smells"—he made a face—"bad. But, if he is to live another day, we must take him there. It will delay you going to the fort."

"Then, it must be. In truth, I was only going back there to await Mr. Henrik's return to us."

"Soka'pii, good. Tonight I will go to the springs and shall scout there to ensure no war party has come there to heal their own."

"I will go with you," she said, her response surprising even her.

"You will not go with me." He turned his head around to stare at her. "Do you know how to scout, how to creep into an enemy camp without being seen or heard?"

"Of course I don't."

"Then, you will stay here."

"I shall not stay here while you go there," she insisted.

His reaction to her words seemed odd to her because he grinned. Then he said, "I will sneak out of camp tonight, and so stealthy will I leave, you won't even know I am gone."

"Very well. But, if this be your intention, I shall sleep next to you."

He laughed. "And, I will welcome you, if this is to be your plan, though I doubt either of us would sleep. But, come now. You are needed here to help defend this wagon and the others."

"Nonsense. Your friend and my brother can defend our wagon. If you are going, then I am coming along with you."

"Why?" he asked. "Surely you know your duty is to stay behind and guard your almost-sister and baby sister."

"Yes, it's true. But, I have another obligation, too. And, the task I speak of is to learn as much as I can about this land so I and my family can survive in it. If I stay here, I will miss the opportunity to learn how to scout and what it even means to 'scout.'"

Although instinct might have appeared to be dictating her tongue, she knew exactly why she was being so insistent. It was simple, really. She would keep this man with her, and she would keep him safe if she had to.

True, she had spoken honestly when she had told him she wished for the opportunity to learn more about this land, but there was another reason she was demanding to go with him. And, it was one she would not voice to him, though it was not very hard to understand: she was still grieving for loved ones now gone. Added to the loss of her brother, as well as her father and mother, was now Mr. Henrik's plight. She was not going to lose Stands Strong—her only friend—too. She would take her gun, and she would defend him with her life if need be.

My life?

The truth startled her. She had only known this man for two days…two short days. Did she really care about Stands Strong so much as to come to his defense, even risking her own life?

Yes, I do and I would.

But, she had no intention of dying; especially now, when the responsibility to secure her family's welfare lay squarely upon her shoulders. But, if her family's welfare depended on her, then she would learn how to care for each one of them here in this strange and hostile land.

When she raised her eyes to his, she found him staring at her. He didn't utter a sound, though. He simply looked at her. Yet, so intense was his regard, Czanna felt as though she were melting under it.

"ánniayi. So be it," he said after a time. "But, if you go with me, I would caution you—and I would have your word on it. You will do exactly as I say. This is important since you do not know how to scout. And, if this is to be your attitude toward me when I must perform a scouting mission, then I will have your word, also, that you will submit to learning the skill. Otherwise, you will not go out with me again when I am required to scout. Do you agree?"

"I…" Did she have a choice? "Oh, all right. But, I agree only in this way. Yes, I will learn as quickly as I can about what you do and how you scout. But, I will only do as you command so long as you are not in any danger. There. That is what I will agree to. But, you should know this: I will keep an eye on you, and if I see you are trying to sneak away tonight, I will dog your steps. I promise I will."

Suddenly, he laughed, the sound of it deep and virile. He said, "I fear I will have to rename you, and it shall be Stubborn Woman. Yes, I think I shall call you by your new name, Stubborn Woman."

"I am not stubborn!"

He merely grinned.