John’s eyes became two points of angry fire. “Do you doubt my word?” he asked tightly.
“Well, n-no, but—” Kaylene stammered out.
“Then don’t ask any more questions,” John said, glancing over at his wife whose eyes were wavering on his. “Now let’s get to work. Let’s get the carnival out of this town. I cannot allow anyone to find the child with the carnival. I . . . might be accused of having abducted her. And that isn’t how it was at all. The child absolutely doesn’t want to be found.”
“Where is she now?” Kaylene asked, looking slowly around her.
“She’s with Magnolia Jane,” John said thickly. “The poor child. She’s scared to death. Magnolia Jane has ways to make her feel better.”
Kaylene broke into a mad run and hurried to Magnolia Jane’s tent. There she found the small child curled up on Magnolia’s lap, sound asleep.
“Why, she’s so tiny, and . . . and . . . she’s an Indian,” Kaylene gasped out.
Kaylene’s mother and father had followed her. “John, why?” Anna asked, giving him a despairing stare. “Why did you have to steal another child?”
He turned an angry glare at her. “Just keep your mouth shut,” he growled out. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll not interfere.”
Good Bear was icy cold inside as he watched the carnival tents being dismantled. He was frantic because he hadn’t been able to find Little Sparrow. She was missing and it was all his fault. He shouldn’t have separated himself from the others. He shouldn’t have allowed Little Sparrow to leave his side.
Good Bear hung his head. He had let his chief down. He couldn’t face Fire Thunder.
His heart aching, feeling so ashamed for being such a disappointment to his people, Good Bear broke into a run and left the carnival and San Carlos behind him.
Fire Thunder had bathed after having been assured that all of the longhorns’ brands had been changed, and was dressed in a fresh, fringed buckskin outfit. His horse had been brought to him and he was ready to mount it when one of his warriors, who had left for San Carlos to trade his wares many days ago before the women and children, rode up to him.
“Did you make good trade?” Fire Thunder asked as he looked at the burro attached to a rope behind the warriors’ horse. It was loaded down with supplies beneath a leather covering.
“Very good,” Big Left Hand said, smiling. “My trade was good for my wife, I should instead say.”
“That is why she smiles and is so good to you,” Fire Thunder said, returning the smile. “You bring her more than is required from a husband.”
“She pleases me in many ways,” Big Left Hand said, his eyes gleaming with silent meaning. “I never want to be disappointed. What I bring her today will assure me that I will not be.”
Black Hair rode up, a troubled look on his face as he glanced over his shoulder at his daughter, who stood at the door of his lodge, pouting.
“More trouble with Running Fawn?” Fire Thunder asked, giving Running Fawn a quick glance.
“She will be the death of me,” Black Hair said sullenly. “I just discovered a tattoo on one of my daughter’s legs, put there with the juice from a poison ivy plant. Three of her friends have the same tattoo.”
He hung his head, then looked slowly up at Fire Thunder. “I cannot understand this daughter who has turned wild and rebellious,” he murmured.
“Perhaps she is rebellious, yet not as much as I am sure those daughters are, who are forced to live in carnivals with their parents,” Big Left Hand blurted out.
The mention of “carnival” sent Fire Thunder’s eyes to Big Left Hand, and his heart to racing. “Why do you speak of carnivals now?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“While in San Carlos, I saw many pitched tents, and was told it was a carnival,” Big Left Hand said matter-of-factly. “I walked through the carnival. I saw beautiful women dressed up in scanty clothing. I assumed they were daughters of those men who own the carnival. Do you think they enjoy living such a life? I would think they feel ashamed.”
His heart pounding harder, his throat dry, Fire Thunder reached a hand to Big Left Hand’s shoulder. “My friend, your knowledge of reading and writing matches my own,” he said thickly. “Did you see the writing on the sides of the wagons that belong to the carnival people?”
“Yes, and the name Shelton was there,” Big Left Hand said, taken aback by the sudden look of wonder in his chief’s eyes. “Why . . . do . . . you ask?”
Black Hair and Fire Thunder exchanged quick glances.
Then, trying to control his anxiousness to get to San Carlos, to possibly get another look at the beautiful white woman, perhaps even one of those that Big Left Hand had referred to, Fire Thunder gave Big Left Hand a forced, easy smile.
“I have seen that particular carnival caravan and wondered if it might be the same, that is all,” Fire Thunder said.
He was relieved when Big Left Hand’s wife discovered that he was there with all of the wonderful gifts on the burro. All smiles, she ran up to Big Left Hand. She giggled when he reached down and pulled her onto his lap on his horse.