White Fire

Dancing Star wiped sleep from her eyes, then slowly rose from beneath the blankets. She moved almost automatically into White Fire’s arms and twined her tiny arms around his neck.

Flame winced when she saw tears splashing from Dancing Star’s eyes. She knew then that the child had not accepted her fate yet. She obviously sorely missed her mother, and the father taken from her not so long ago.

“Things will be all right,” White Fire said, softly stroking Dancing Star’s back through her buckskin dress. “Flame and I both love you, Dancing Star. And so will Michael.”

“Michael?” Dancing Star said, leaning back so that she could gaze into White Fire’s eyes. “Your little boy Michael?”

“Yes, my little boy Michael,” he said, laughing softly. “I am going to go and bring him home with me today. He will be your brother, Dancing Star. Would you like that?”

Dancing Star scrambled from his arms and reached down and grabbed the little wooden horse. “This is Michael’s,” she said, stroking the sleekness of the carved wood with her tiny fingers. “Do you think he will care if I share it with him?”

“Michael will be glad to share it with you,” White Fire said softly.

While he still talked and held Dancing Star, Flame got a good fire going in the fireplace. She then went to the kitchen and went through the food supplies and soon had breakfast ready for them.

After breakfast was over, White Fire gave them both a hug and left to go on another mission of the heart.

His strength fully regained, he rode toward Pig’s Eye. He would not take no for an answer today. He would not wait another day to have his son with him. Of late he had seen how quickly things in life could change. If he did not take the opportunity now to have his son with him, he might never have it.

As he rode beneath the bright sunlight, the breeze soft on his face, he thought back to the experiences of the past several days. Time and again Chief Gray Feather had proven his love for him, even after losing his daughter in such a traumatic way!

And this thing with Josiah Snelling! No one would ever be able to convince White Fire that it had not happened, that he had not come face-to-face with the ghost of the colonel.

He smiled as he recalled how Flame had said that even Colonel Edwards had been visited by Colonel Josiah Snelling’s ghost.

“Yes, he was here all right,” he whispered to himself. “But now maybe he can have his final, true rest, knowing that the massacre has been stopped—that Colonel Russell has been stopped!”

His thoughts were brushed aside when he rode into the outskirts of Pig’s Eye and the majestic Greer mansion came into view.

His insides tightened to think of having to face them again and argue for his rights to his son. But he would go to hell and back if it meant getting Michael in the end!

He slowed his horse to a slow lope as he turned onto the narrow lane that led to the Greer house. His eyes searched the windows for any signs of Michael, and he was disappointed when he saw him nowhere. He rode onward, then drew a tight rein before the house and dismounted.

His spine stiff, his throat dry, he swirled the reins around the hitching rail, then sucked in a deep breath for confidence and took the steep porch steps that led to the front door.

He did not even have to knock. The door opened suddenly.

Michael stepped out onto the porch and hugged White Fire’s legs.

Before he could reach down and take his son into his arms, Maureen Greer was there, a small valise in her right hand.

“He’s cried every day since your visit,” Maureen said emotionally. “Why didn’t you come sooner? We’ve been waiting.”

“You’ve been waiting?” White Fire said, forking an eyebrow. He gazed down at the valise, then into Maureen’s eyes. “I would have come sooner but things interfered.”

“Father, take me home,” Michael said, pleading up at White Fire with his dark, brown eyes.

“Yes, home,” White Fire said, sweeping his son into his arms, holding him close as Michael wrapped his arms about his neck.

He was stunned by how simple it was to take his son. Michael was being handed over to him so easily!

“Here’s some of his clothes,” Maureen said, tears streaming from her eyes. “Of course, I didn’t pack everything. There is too much. But I have packed his favorite things.”

Whi

te Fire gazed at Michael’s velvet suit, the white lacy collar hideously clinging at his throat, then he gazed down at the valise. “I don’t think we’ll be needing the clothes,” he said softly.

“But they are his favorite—”