never look back, an’ be done with it.”
Bass grimaced with the sudden, cold feel those words gave his belly. Not that he hadn’t been the sort to just run off and leave the first gal he’d ever poked. Not that he wouldn’t have run away from the Ohio River whore neither—but Abigail had beat him to the door. And then there’d been Marissa … the hardest one to leave, because he had come to realize that if he didn’t run when he did, he’d be there still.
No, by Jehoshaphat—Titus Bass was no innocent, white-winged angel when it came to running off and hurting folks’ feelings bad. But—just to hear Tuttle put it all to words the way he had, why … it gave a man pause to look back at the thoughtless things he’d done in the past, the sort of things a real man wouldn’t have done.
Bristling at Tuttle, angry with himself for more than he cared to admit right about then, Titus snapped, “Said I’d be along, Bud. I won’t be no time a’tall.”
“S’awright by me,” Bud replied with a slight shrug. “Just bear it to mind Silas ain’t one to be waiting on no man.”
“If’n he’s set on leaving ’thout me, he can go right ahead,” Bass said. “I’ll be on your backtrail shortly.”
Bass watched Tuttle turn away without another word, heading back to midcamp, where more and more people gathered in a growing congregation around Cooper and Hooks as the sun’s light continued to creep on down the side of the mountain toward the shadowy valley where the village sat.
Bass sighed, as if steeling himself before he turned round to look at her for the last time. When he did, Bass found Fawn staring at the ground. Only the boy gazed up at him. So much like Amy’s younger brothers and sisters —they reminded him—the wee ones who watched older folk with wide, questioning eyes that bored right through to the core of a person.
As he came to her, Fawn raised her face to him, cheeks wet. For a moment he started to stammer; then, in frustration, Bass quickly looped his arms about her shoulders and clutched her tight. The feel of her tremble within his grasp was almost more than he could bear.
Why the hell hadn’t he just saddled up and gone before she ever awoke? he asked himself. Like he’d done before? Damned sight easier that way.
She quivered against him as she said, “My husband rode away one morning. He never came back.”
That made him angry—then immediately sorry that his back hairs had bristled. She had every right to speak her heart.
“Fawn, I am not your husband.”
Finally she admitted, “You are right. You come here for the winter. Now spring winds blow you on down the trail.”
“You knew when I came—”
“Yes, I knew,” she interrupted, squeezing her arms about his waist. “I … I did not count on letting my heart grow so fond of you.”
“It is because you are so lonely,” Bass explained, gazing down at the child. White Horse looked up at the two of them in wonder.
Fawn pulled her head back to gaze at him herself. “You were not lonely?” When he did not answer right away, she said, “Tell me that you could spend the winter by yourself—those long nights.”
“If a man had to, I could do—”
“How alone would you be with your terrible wounds? Tell me that.”
With pursed lips he finally nodded. “Yes, Fawn. You are right. I would have been lonely without you for the winter.”
She
He could feel her quake as she said it, and that almost made his eyes spill. How rotten it made him feel to tell her, “But I never promised you I would return. I came to your lodge for the winter.”
“Will you ever … will I ever see you again?”
It was hard to speak the truth. “I don’t know. Chances are, I won’t ever see you or your people again … not for a long time.”
“You will always be welcome in my lodge, Me-Ti-tuzz,” she said, pulling back from him to arm’s length. “And my robes will always be warm for you.”
“No, Fawn—you will find a husband to warm you in those robes.” Titus put a hand out on the boy’s head, rubbing it gently. “Someone to help this one grow.”
“He needs an uncle, one who can name him when he is ready to be a warrior.”
“Yes, Fawn—this boy will deserve a man’s name.” He turned slightly to look over his shoulder as the noise grew.
The three others had mounted up and had begun to pull out of the village with their pack animals in tow. Men, women, and especially children reached out to touch the horses, the moccasins and legs of the white men taking their leave. Cooper, Hooks, and Tuttle vigorously waved one arm, then another, shouting back at the clamoring crowd surging along with the trappers’ horses and mules.
Suddenly Bass turned back to Fawn, gripping her shoulders tightly in his hands. “You will give him a strong name, Fawn.”
“Yes.”
“Promise me.”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Be sure he remembers my name.”
“Yes. He will remember you.”
“One day we may meet again, him and me.”
“And what of us?”
“Do not watch the horizon for me, Fawn. No one among all of us can say what tomorrow or that horizon will bring. So don’t watch the horizon and wait on me.”
Rising on her toes and lifting her chin, Fawn pulled on the collar to Bass’s coat, pressing her mouth against his. She was long and lingering in that kiss.
“I am glad I taught you how to do that,” Titus told her.
“I like to touch your mouth,” she said as she stepped back from him a ways, parted the fold of the blanket she clutched about her, and pulled a thong over her neck. Quickly she raised herself on her toes again and dropped it over his head.
Looking down, he took the small pouch, some four inches long, in his hand. It was nearly empty. “What is this?”
“A gift.
“Among my people every young man must find his own special medicine that allows him to become a warrior. A woman of his clan usually makes him a pouch in which that young man can put those special things that give him his power.”
“This … this is my medicine pouch?”
Fawn nodded. “Yes.”
As his fingers rubbed it together gently, Bass could tell the pouch was all but empty. “What have you put in it for me?”
“Some ashes from our last fire together,” she said, her eyes misting now. “A few petals from the flowers just beginning to bloom in the meadow. You … you will have to fill it the rest of the way, Me-Ti-tuzz.”
Clutching the pouch in one hand, Bass looped the other arm around her and brought her into a fierce embrace. He kissed her one last time, then kissed the tears streaking her cheeks.
She backed from him another two steps, putting an arm around the boy to hold him tightly to her side. “I will remember the touch of your mouth always.”
“I’ll never forget how you and Crane saved my life this winter.”
“The old man’s medicine helped,” Fawn admitted. “But he said it was your power that kept your spirit from flying off to the Star Road.”
Nearly choking, Bass sobbed, “I will remember you, Fawn. Always.”
Turning on his heel before he tarried any longer, Bass hurried over to untie the lead rope to Hannah and the packhorse, released the lash to the saddle horse, and leaped into the saddle without using the stirrup. In one swift
