be because they don’t know where we are.”
“I’ll be careful,” Evelyn promised.
“I want you back by nightfall.”
Evelyn smoothed her dress and flicked a speck of dust from her sleeve.
“Did you hear me, daughter?”
“Yes, Pa.”
Nate grunted and returned to his book.
Evelyn was amazed at her audacity. Here she was, outright lying to her father. There was a time, not that long ago, when she wouldn’t think of doing such a thing.
“Care to help me?” Winona asked from the counter. “We need potatoes peeled and cut.”
“Sure,” Evelyn said. She fetched the potato sack from the pantry and carried it in both hands to the counter. From a drawer she took a wood-handled knife with a narrow curved blade, and set to work. She had peeled potatoes so many times she could do it with her eyes shut. It gave her time to think about the morrow and Degamawaku.
“Are you here, daughter, or up in the sky with the birds?” Winona asked good-naturedly.
“I’m standing right next to you.”
“The look in your eyes tells me your body is here but the rest of you is somewhere else.”
“Can’t a person think around here without being pestered?” Evelyn said sharply.
Winona stopped chopping carrots and turned. Nate put down his book and shifted in his chair.
“Is that any way to talk to your mother?”
“I’m sorry, Pa,” Evelyn said quickly.
“I’m not the one you snapped at.”
“I’m sorry, Ma. I don’t know what got into me.” Evelyn set down the knife and the potato and quickly crossed to the front door and stepped out into the glare of the hot sun. She walked toward the lake, scattering chickens in her path, and came to the water’s edge. Clasping her hands so hard her knuckles hurt, she pretended not to notice when her shadow became two.
“Would you like to talk about it?” Winona asked.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Something is bothering you. I would like to soothe your spirit so you are yourself again.”
“There’s nothing,” Evelyn insisted.
“Did you see nothing when you went over to visit the Nansusequas?” Winona asked.
Evelyn stared out over the rippling surface of the water. Part of her wanted to stay silent, but another part recalled how caring and considerate her mother had always been, and she softened. “I feel things I’ve never felt before.”
Winona ran a hand down the blue beads that adorned her doeskin dress. “All women go through what you are going through.”
“That doesn’t make it easier.”
“No, it does not. One day you are a girl, the next you are a woman. One day you are playing with dolls, the next you think only of
“It’s confusing.”
“Very.”
“There are times when I want to scream.”
“As loud as you can, yes.”
Evelyn turned. “What do I do, Ma? What do I do?”
Winona smiled and hugged her. “You do what every woman before you has done.”
“What is that?”
“You follow your heart and hope for the best.”
Chapter Ten
The basket held a lot. Evelyn packed a bundle of pemmican at the bottom. She’d helped her mother make it a month ago. Sometimes they made it from buffalo meat, but this time it had been the meat of a buck her father shot. They had cut the meat into strips and dried and salted it, then pounded the strips until the meat was ground fine. Then they added fat and chokecherries. It would last years, and was as tasty as anything.
She went into the pantry and got carrots and wild onions. She cut six slices from a loaf of bread and wrapped the slices in a cloth. She put butter in the basket along with a knife to spread it. She put in a couple of corn cakes left over from a few days ago. Her pa had bought a tin of raisins at Bent’s Fort and she took that. She also packed tea. Since they might shoot game for fresh meat, she placed a small pot on top and next to it a spider, a three- legged pan made for cooking over fires.
The sun had not yet risen when Evelyn went out to the corral. She opened the gate and went in and spoke quietly to the horses. Her buttermilk was at the back. She slid on a bridle and brought Buttercup out and put on the saddle blanket. She threw her saddle up and over and cinched it. Then she brought Buttercup around to the front of the cabin and looped the reins around a peg on the wall.
Evelyn walked to the south corner and gazed to the east. There was no sign of Dega yet, but he would be there. He had said he would and he never let her down.
The wind was still, the lake as smooth as glass. In the dark it was like a great black eye staring up at the star-speckled sky. She heard a fish splash and the far-off cry of a loon.
She went inside and sat at the table. For some reason she was nervous. Maybe it was the lying, she told herself. Maybe it was the fact that she would have Dega to herself, exactly as she wanted. Maybe she was nervous because she was afraid of what they might do. She coughed and drummed her fingers and was glad her mother and father were still in bed.
Her eyelids grew heavy and her head drooped. She had hardly slept, she was so excited. She imagined how wonderful it would be, just the two of them. She imagined him kissing her, and tingled.
With a start, Evelyn jerked her head up. She had fallen asleep. A rosy tinge lit the window. She went out and around the cabin. A golden crown lit the eastern horizon. The sun was coming up. She rose onto her toes and stared hard and eagerly, but the shore was empty of life. Oh well, she thought. She had asked him to come as early as he could. Maybe he couldn’t get away yet. Maybe his folks had him doing chores. She shrugged and went to the lake and put her hands on her hips, and gave another small start. She was unarmed. She had left her pistols and her rifle inside. If her pa saw her, he would be upset. One of his cardinal rules was that she was never to step outside the cabin without a weapon. Even if it was to feed the chickens or get firewood. She thought it a silly rule, but she didn’t care to wash the dishes for a month if she broke it.
Evelyn regretted deceiving them. They had always been honest and forthright with her. And here she was, planning to spend a night alone with a man. The clomp of hooves caused her heart to flutter. She turned, and it seemed to her that although the sun was not fully up, the rider approaching was awash in light and she could see every detail as clearly as at midday. He wore green buckskins, as always. Over his back was a quiver and a bow. He had brought a lance, too, a gift to him from Shakespeare, who had lived with various Indian tribes and could fashion a weapon as well as any of them. She went along the shore a short way and stopped to await him.
“Dega,” she said softly to herself.
Degamawaku saw Evelyn King come past the cabin and inwardly winced. He was happy that they were to spend the day together, and yet he was deeply troubled. His mother’s words were a great weight on his shoulders. He had tossed and turned all night, unable to get them out of his head. He drew rein and smiled down at the loveliest face he had ever seen. “Good morning, Evelyn.” He had practiced that “good morning” until he could say it exactly as she did.
