Swift Horse

She so badly wanted to go out into the store and show him that she was all right—except for the scar on her face, where she had been slightly burned—but she was afraid that might be a bit too forward. She would stay put and hope that later on today she might be able to speak with him—hopefully, alone.

A knock on the back door of the living quarters drew Marsha quickly around. She forked her eyebrows when someone knocked again.

Wondering who it might be, she lifted the hem of her skirt and started toward the door, then stopped and thought of Alan Burton and how he had shown such an interest in her.

If it was he, and he had come for his “reward” for having saved her from the fire, she would not know what to say to him.

She could never forget the look in his eyes when he had talked about her and implied that he wanted to court her since he no longer had a wife.

She started to back away from the door, her heart thudding inside her chest at the thought of it being the cowkeeper come to call, when a voice on the other side of the closed door proved her wrong.

It wasn’t the cowkeeper after all. It was Abraham.

Sighing with relief, Marsha hurried to the door and opened it. She heaved a heavy sigh whe

n she saw what Abraham had in his arms: It was the fawn that she had tried to rescue.

“Ma’am, I thought you might want to see the fawn this mornin’ and see that it is farin’ well,” Abraham said, lovingly stroking the tiny animal’s back as the fawn stared at Marsha with its wide, dark eyes. “And do you see? I have its leg in a splint and bandaged. It can get around all right now.”

“Oh, Abraham, thank you so much for helping the sweet animal,” Marsha said, glad when he held it out for her to take.

She held her arms out as he eased the fawn into them. She held it close and smiled down into its still-watchful eyes. “You dear,” she murmured. “Had I not seen you . . .”

“Hush with talk such as that,” Abraham softly encouraged. “The fawn was saved and will soon be as fit as a fiddle. Its leg will heal good enough. One day it’ll be among its own again.”

“But not too soon, I hope,” Marsha said, stroking the animal’s back. “It wouldn’t have a chance out there in the wild without its mother.”

Abraham stood there silent for a while, then looked over his shoulder when he saw more people walking toward the huge council house, then gazed into Marsha’s eyes. “Would it be too bold of me to ask if you’re going to the ceremony?” he asked in a tone that was cautious.

“Yes, I plan to go,” Marsha said, seeing how his eyes momentarily humbly lowered, then looked up at her again.

“Might I goes with you, ma’am?” Abraham asked, then visibly tightened. “Or am I bein’ too bold to asks you, a white woman, such a question as that?”

“No, you aren’t being too bold at all, and I’m glad you asked,” Marsha hurried out. “I was dreading going by myself since my brother can’t go.” She smiled up at him. “Abraham, I would be delighted to have you as my escort,” she murmured.

She hated the ignorance of many white people, how they could put themselves above anyone else, when everyone should be working together in this world to make it a better, equal place for all.

Marsha’s thoughts were interrupted when she saw Soft Wind walking toward her, smiling from ear to ear. Abraham stepped aside as Soft Wind came up beside him, smiling a good morning to him and then at Marsha.

“Marsha, Edward James told me that you wanted to attend the ceremony this morning and were planning to go alone,” Soft Wind murmured. “Would you like to attend with me? We could sit together.”

Marsha looked quickly over at Abraham, whose eyes were humbly lowered, as though she could read his mind—that he thought she would rather go with Soft Wind than with him. She looked quickly at Soft Wind. “I would love to, but I have already promised Abraham I would go with him,” she murmured, hearing a soft gasp coming from Abraham, and knowing why.

He was stunned that Marsha would choose him over Soft Wind! She quickly explained. “We could all go together,” she hurried out, having accepted the fact now that her brother would be marrying this pretty maiden. “Would that be all right, Soft Wind?” She turned to Abraham. “Would that be all right, Abraham?”

His broad smile and dancing eyes were enough response without his even saying anything, but then he hurried out, “Yes’m. I would like that.”

Soft Wind smiled. “I would like that, too,” she murmured. She turned to Abraham just as Marsha handed him the fawn. “The animal is sweet.” Then her smile waned. “But I do not think you should take the fawn to the ceremony. When you are there, you will see why I suggest this to you.”

Marsha wondered what there could be about the ceremony that would discourage having the fawn there, and then she remembered: The first buck kill was to be celebrated!

The animal that had been killed was going to be there. It would not seem right to celebrate the killing of one deer, while one that would one day be as big, and surely then hunted, was there.

“I, too, advise you to take the fawn to your home and leave it there,” Marsha quickly said. “Soft Wind and I will wait for you here, and then we can go together to the council house.”

“Yes’m,” Abraham said, quickly nodding. He turned and walked quickly away, the fawn held lovingly in his arms.

Then Marsha stepped aside. “Come on inside, Soft Wind, until Abraham returns,” she murmured.