With the night sky wrapping around the ship, Frank felt as though he were cut off from the rest of the world. Passing through the intermittent streams of light shining from the lamps along the outside wall and the ship's railing, he walked slowly along the deck, deep in thought, his hands in his pockets. The refreshing ocean breeze lifted the lapels of his leather jacket and the damp hair lying across his forehead under his Stetson, cooling his ruddy cheeks as he thought about his intense conversation with Mr. Lawrence. The intimate scene he had walked in on in the cargo hold popped into his mind again. Mr. Lawrence had been standing close to Jazira, holding her hand. He had heard Jazira's explanation, he had the story further detailed by Mr. Lawrence, but under it all there was still the feeling of rejection. Frank stopped walking and propped himself up against the railing, finally leaning down and resting his elbows along the top of it. Jazira had agreed with him that he should speak to the Captain, she had wanted to get married, yet she chose to return to Arabia with Mr. Lawrence. The thought still stung him, though he had lived with it now for the past several hours. He dragged his hand across his face, wishing he could wipe away the pain in his heart so easily. No amount of explanation could take away that hurt. Sullen he considered that he didn't have to go to Arabia with them, this was Jazira's mission, after all, Mr. Lawrence would be looking out for her. Jazira could go back home to Arabia, apparently that's what she wanted, and he could go back home to America, he could track the mustangs, find Hidalgo, start his ranch. . .Yeah, he had choices too.
Frank stood up and stretched, then resumed walking to his cabin. A deep frown had set in when he reached the door to his room and pulled the key out of his pocket. He opened the door only to be welcomed by melancholy darkness. Keeping the door propped open with his right hip, he found the lamp with light coming through from the corridor. When light finally diffused the darkness, he let the door close and looked up, startled to see a crimson, gold and ebony form curled up in the low wing back chair in the corner of his room. His frown disappeared, he cocked his head to one side, his lips parted as he inhaled deeply. He gazed at her for a full minute, compassion flooding his heart. She had been waiting for him and had fallen asleep in that uncomfortable chair. How much he loved her! It was crazy to think of going back to America without her. He only wanted that ranch if she was on it with him. He had left her once before, thinking it would be easy to cross an ocean and a country, live with his Indian brothers, make peace with his past and go on without her. He had been wrong. Frank tossed the key onto his bed and walked over to Jazira. Her face was buried in the crook of her arm. Frank smiled and ran his hand gently over the ebony hair that spilled over her shoulder. He positioned himself so that he would be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes, and sat back on his heels. He squeezed her shoulder. She jumped and raising her head, opened her eyes to find Frank grinning at her. She blinked once and then remembered. A stricken look came over her face and she sat up quickly saying,
"Frank, I'm sorry. Everything came out wrong this evening. I can't explain it, but this is just something that I have to do. I know you said before that you couldn't hate me, but I understand if. . .if. . ."
Jazira couldn't speak as Frank's hand reached up and cupped her sleepy, worried face. His thumb traced the outline of her lips as he said softly, "Riding away into the setting of the sun isn't going to do me a bit of good, if you're aren't there. I'm going with you!"