It was hard to have steady hands, with so much excitement and nervousness. Kneeling at the side of the bed, one last check that everything was as it should be, and then Mark would be set. The smile couldn't be contained. "I think it's good."

Mark had a solemn expression as she stood. He took their hands and got up.

"Does it hurt anywhere? Any pressure points?" The professor leaned down and felt along the edge of the prosthesis padding.

"I don't think so." His eyes met hers. A small, hesitant smile tugged up the corners of his lips.

"You're standing." Tears threatened. It'd been nearly four months since he'd stood without canes or crutches.

The professor distracted from further conversation as he straightened. "Let's try a few steps. Mrs. Johnson, hold his hand, but brace your forearm under his. Keep your other hand on his chest. If he falls, it'll likely be forward or a collapse straight down. Mark, when I strapped a prototype on my knee to mimic using the mechanics of the joints she designed, I had to give a small flick to get the ankle and knee to set forward again. If you don't, the prosthetic foot won't be in proper alignment, and you'll trip. Put your good leg forward to test it a few times before we actually walk with the prosthesis. Ready?"

Mark's grip tightened as he nodded and looked down. He set his good leg forward. The prosthesis dragged a bit and didn't reset, making him grab them to not lose balance.

"Hold him." She knelt and reset the joints for him. "The end of your thigh is your foot now - you have to use the height of that to know if you're lifting your leg high enough to not trip. It'll feel like this." She stood and lifted his thigh in a mimicked step. "About here." Holding his leg up gave a moment for him to remember how high to lift it. "This is a tad higher than you need, but it'll give you leeway until you get used to it." Kneeling again, she positioned the prosthesis to take a step. "Lift and give a slight flick to reset it."

It took a few times before he got the feel of how much to flick, but he didn't hesitate to keep trying.

"Ready to try walking again?" She tucked her arm under his again.

He nodded, concentration furrowing his brow. The first step was better, but the flick not enough to lock the joints. He started to collapse. His arm locked and he shifted his weight to his good leg, giving a small kick with the prosthesis to lock it. It was just in time to catch himself from falling.

"Good, Mark!" She smiled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

It only took minutes until he was ready to try with a cane. "Go over by the door," he said with hope shining in his eye.

Clasping her hands together in nervousness, she stood at the other end of the room as the professor held Mark's arm just in case. He almost collapsed once, but his brow knit with determination.

When he arrived, those blue eyes burned with the taste of freedom right around the corner. "Stairs next."

"Slow down, cowboy," the professor laughed, "we have to check your leg to make sure it's not rubbing anywhere. You can't wear the prosthesis all day until your skin builds up tolerance." He took Mark's arm and steered him toward the bed before any protests could arise.

Once Mark sat on the edge of the bed, those blue eyes lifted to meet hers while the professor removed the prosthesis.

The smile and happiness faded upon seeing his uncertainty. Walking over, she knelt beside the surgeon and set a hand over Mark's in comfort. A questioning look was all it took to lock eyes.

He eased his leg free from the surgeon and guided her hand to rest on the top of his thigh where a makeshift sock gave extra padding. It was his permission to remove the sock herself and check his leg. The intensity of his gaze made it impossible to look away.

What precious trust he gave that didn't come without months of tears and anxiety to reach it. Almost six weeks ago, he'd finally let her help with one of his two daily examinations to make sure his leg didn't ulcer or swell. But, it'd been longer than that since he'd let her help with bandage changes or getting dressed. This came with such great responsibility, especially when he was so vulnerable using a prosthesis for the first time.

Nervousness clouded his eyes, but he gave a small nod.

"Tell me if it hurts," she whispered and slowly unbuttoned his pants to be able to remove the bandage anchored around his waist. "I - " a glance over her shoulder revealed the surgeon gone.

"He said he'd step out while you check," Mark said softly.

"Oh. I didn't hear him." Her cheeks burned in embarrassment as she focused on easing his pants down. Her heart beat hard, drawing more fear of finding a red spot of irritated flesh that would ruin his last hope of ever having a prosthesis...or of saying or doing the wrong thing to make him never open up like this again. Finding the end of the bandage at his waist, she began to unwrap him. The bandage wrapped very high on his thigh to control swelling, leaving no choice but to brush his male anatomy. His sexuality was so fragile lately that she automatically hesitated.

"I can, if you don't..." His voice trailed off in quiet self-consciousness. 'Want to' hung in the air unspoken.

"No, I just wasn't sure if you'd want me to." Looking up, she met his eyes. "I want to, if it's alright."

"You don't need permission." His voice remained subdued and vulnerable.

So she gently worked the bandage free. "Is it uncomfortable having the bandage so high? It seems like it'd be unfortunate to be a male. I can try figuring out something else."

A hint of a smile chased away the self-consciousness in his eyes, but he remained silent.

"Sorry. Papa always said I babble when I'm nervous." Bowing her head to hide the embarrassment at embarrassing him, she eased the sock off Hero and quickly unwrapped the rest of his leg.

"And I tend to be silent when I'm nervous." His voice held a slight huskiness this time. "Silence isn't always a sign of irritation." Then that note of self-consciousness leaked in again. "I finish wrapping myself when I reach that point. I can't do it as comfortable as the few times you've wrapped my leg. Should you be available when I reach that point each morning, would you help wrap? It's easier with three hands. I'm not keen on Brigands helping me adjust myself."

She nodded and offered a smile.

He glanced down at the limb and then looked away, his posture tense.

"I know you hate it, but it is only wise for you to learn what feels normal so swelling can be treated before it becomes a problem. Tell me if it hurts." A gentle palpation over the limb didn't seem to cause pain.

"You should be more repulsed than I am," he snapped.

"You show no signs of disgust for amputee patients. It is your fear of its imaginary limitations that make you hate your own leg."

His brow snapped together when a hard lump appeared under her fingers on the side of his thigh, but he quickly forced a passive expression to hide the pain.

"You haven't done your exercises for a few days, have you?" When he opened his mouth, she snorted. "You've taught me too well - I recognize when a muscle knot is from misuse, so don't even try arguing. Lie on your side for exercises before this knot causes rubbing and an ulcer." She slid up his pantaloons for modesty.

Not a single protest came forth as he settled on the bed and propped up on his elbow to look over his shoulder. "Has your time come yet?"

"No, I said I'd tell you." That stress had been forgotten about with all this prosthesis excitement.

He cracked a smile and glanced at her flat belly. "Three days late. Let me check for a babe after he leaves."

"We agreed after a week. If it's a miscarriage, I don't want to know."

The poor man hissed in a breath as she stretched him to the side. "God, Tanya, must you?"

"Not doing it is how you got here." Relenting would only lead to more serious problems later.

"It's wise to know if you start having a history of miscarriages."

"I hope I'm not with child just so you have to keep climbing on me and learn to not be ashamed of your leg. You check, and don't tell me until I bleed or I'm two weeks late," she snapped.

A deep frown wrinkled his brow, but she brought the surgeon in before he could say anything.

She pulled down her skirts an hour later and shot up without looking at him. "I'm going to feed Charles, and then we can go to work."

"Are you angry that I checked?" He sounded confused.

"No." She yanked open the door and slipped out.

Holding Charles as he nursed, she chewed her lip as her hands shook. All the symptoms of pregnancy were there, just like every month before that time came. But this month, there was a fullness sensation in her belly. And the thought that the damage from the rape might not sustain Mark's babe was terrifying. His books said the risk of miscarriage was highest these eight weeks as it was.

A knock on the nursery door and he came in wearing the prosthesis and using the crutches to help balance. Deep concern crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"Don't, just don't." She looked down at Charles drifting off to sleep as he ate.

Silence.

She glanced up.

He stood behind the door, staring at the floor with heartache written all over his face. With a small nod, he backed out and closed it.

After settling Charles down to sleep longer, she went into the bedchamber. Empty. Brigands and Teresa cooked in the kitchen. "Did Mark come down?"

"Yes, my lady. He said to tell you that he would be at the clinic catching up on work." Brigands wore his professional expression - that he only took on when something was wrong.

"Was he upset?"

The dear man needed no further prompting. "He seemed quite subdued and sad. He's probably still trying to make his way there."

Her brow furrowed. "He went in the prosthesis? It's too soon!" Without waiting for an answer, she ran out the front door.

A lone figure made slow, labored progress down the road. Even at a distance, his gait portrayed physical pain.

She ran up and tucked herself under his arm for support. "You're an idiot. It's too soon to go this far on your leg."

Not a sharp word or response at all. Instead, he seemed to withdraw into himself even more, as if her tongue had cut through his thick hide.

"I'm even more of an idiot." She wrapped her arm around his waist to help take more of his weight as he struggled harder with each step.

"You are only an idiot for taking a poorer end of the bargain," he stated quietly. "I know I bring nothing but hardship, and no one faults you for getting angry about it. Most would've lost patience long ago." The heartache in his tone brought tears to her eyes.

"You think I'm angry with you?" Her eyebrows rose. "Mark, you bear this because you came to rescue me. How could I ever be angry? I'm scared about a babe, not upset with you."

He turned and eased himself down on the barbershop step, his brow damp and eyes squinted from pain even though he tried not to show it. Concern deepened the creases of pain at the corners of his eyes. "If I pressed myself upon you when it wasn't wanted - "

Setting a finger to his lips, she shook her head. "You'd never do that. Your books say a miscarriage is most likely in the first months, and I'm scared that the scarring raises the risk." She sat beside him and set a hand on his poor leg. "I know you need to know as a physician, but this is one instance when I wish the surgeon and husband line didn't cross. And no, I'm not comfortable with another man doing the exam."

"So, you're upset that I had to check, but you didn't want someone else to do it?" He looked confused. When she nodded, he sighed. "Women are so complicated. Surgery repaired much of the damage. I wouldn't propose another babe if I thought you had a high risk of miscarriage."

She leaned her head against his shoulder as his hand slipped into hers. "Mark?"

A soft grunt.

"Why did you run off? That's not exactly like you. You seem...well, you seem like you've had some degree of depression since that amputation," she said carefully. "Perhaps depression isn't the right word. I know you struggle with self-confidence now, but we talked about it, and you've been letting me help more. It feels like there's this glass wall that's been up since your leg, and sometimes we're alright. Other times, it feels like we try to pretend to not see that wall."

With a sigh, he leaned his elbows on his thighs and stared out at the field. "From the time I was out of the nursery room, I was groomed to control any situation. Whenever not effective, I was taught to throw the weight of my title around. I've never known how to figure out making pennies stretch for dollars. In England, I knew how to make things work. I didn't know how to be a husband or father, but I knew how to not have to rely on anyone else for survival. Here, we're no longer at the mercy of patients paying, but we're at the mercy of Price. You work here as much as I. It's not the life I thought I'd give you here."

"But it's a life with you. It's more than I had growing up."

"And I saw the way you looked after Charles choked. I see the way you look at him when we have to leave in the mornings. You said you never wanted a nanny, yet you're forced to leave him with Teresa and Brigands all day to work."

"Mark, you cannot put this pressure on yourself. I enjoy working with you, and it's only until we figure out what to do that I have to be gone all day. We're close enough that they bring him for meals, or I run home. At least there's no wet nurse."

He snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "At least there's no wet nurse." Bitterness filled his words. "At least my wife gets an 'at least.'" He sounded so disgusted and started pacing, despite his worsening limp.

"Honey, I didn't mean it like that. Sit. The prosthesis is rubbing and you hurt."

A bitter laugh erupted and he threw up his free hand. "Do you even realize how you've aged since we've come to America? You don't have that girlish, carefree look in your eyes anymore! You'd never complain or admit it, but you're pulled in so many directions with everyone needing things from you that your smile doesn't reach your eyes anymore!"

"I am happy." She frowned and stood. "Mark, where is this coming from?"

"You aren't happy like you were when first wed. You're trying to be a mother and wife and nurse and business owner and my caretaker and... Tanya, you're burning out and don't even see it coming."

"So, what? You want me to quit the clinic? Stop helping you with your leg and watch you struggle?!" She kept her voice down for privacy when shouting would feel so much better.

"You aren't happy!"

"I'm with you! That's all I wanted! We have food and shelter and - "

"Hell, it's a step above a drunk, penniless father! You're not cleaning up my vomit, just round-the-clock care for an invalid!"

"Would you listen to yourself?!" she shouted with tears in her eyes and thrust a finger at him. "This is what I hate! This is what's tearing us apart! I hate that you tear yourself down like this and leave me to try to put together the pieces! I - "

"You hate this life! You're miserable! Goddamn admit it!" he roared.

"I'm miserable in moments like this!" The world stilled. Her heart stopped as the realization hit, and her voice broke. "I hate being scared every moment of every day that you're going to leave. No matter what I say, you'll always keep a wall up to brace for me leaving while you try so hard to push me to go."

His eyes widened in horror.

"You're not the same man you were in England. If you'd trust me, you'd see how much stronger you are. I want to lean on you, but you're too scared to even lean on yourself. We go round and round with this conversation. I'm sick of it. We aren't thriving here. I want to leave. I want to start over where we aren't in a Society of classes or in debt to anyone or working like dogs. I want to go to Grandfather's tribe." Pulling a note out of her pocket, she handed it to Mark.

My dearest granddaughter,

As you know by now, our tribe was lost in the war. The few of our people who were left have gone northeast to where Grandfather's people came from centuries ago. They are a large, strong tribe and very kind. Grandfather is an Elder there - one of the eleven men considered wise enough to help lead the people. There are so many that another medicine man is needed. These brothers are open to new ways. We've spoken to them of our granddaughter and her white man husband who is the best medicine man from the other side of the world.

This way of life would be foreign to you and Mark, but it is a place to belong. Many of the loners after the war of many tribes have come here. This is a place of peace and plenty and acceptance. I wish for you to come and at least see it. My hope is you'll stay, but we'll come with you if you choose to go back to the English world, granddaughter.

We love you,

Grandfather and Grandmama

"You are happy when you practice medicine, but you aren't happy here either, Mark. I wish we could take the house, but we can give it to the man from last week who lost both of his legs in the tree accident. He has five children and his house isn't accessible in his wheelchair. Let's go visit. The postmaster said where Grandmama is only takes a few days to get there. Maybe this is where we're meant to be."

He gave a slow nod and folded the letter.

"You don't agree."

"I've expressed my fears of you being in a tribe."

"But this is a peaceful, large one. We don't have to live in a teepee, if we stay. We can build a home near there. Let's at least go visit and see."

"A visit. I promise nothing more. Should soldiers sweep through, I'm bringing you back here, no arguments. I'm not watching you or Charles be gutted, or herded up like cattle and sold into slavery."

Her eyes widened.

"The professor said Native Americans are becoming targets for slavery." He gave a levelling look. "He said our marriage isn't necessarily binding in all territories of America. If you insist on this trip into danger, I..." He looked ill. "I insist on a way to ensure your and Charles's safety. We delay the trip long enough to have slave papers drawn up."

She nodded.


"In the back car," the train conductor ordered.

Mark frowned. "There's plenty of room in this car. The luggage car isn't fit for a woman and babe."

"Injuns don't ride up here."

"She's Spanish," Mark snapped. "We will sit in this car." His tone held that of a marquess not used to being questioned.

"I've seen plenty of this breed. She's Injun. Back car or get off the train!"

Giving a soft tug on Mark's sleeve, she started to hand over Charles, who could pass for a white babe yet.

"No. We'll all go in the back." He set a hand on her back to usher her off.

"That'll be ten dollars."

Mark shot ramrod straight and turned. "Ten dollars to sit on top of luggage?" he seethed.

After paying the conductor and helping her into the hot, dark luggage car, he handed over Charles and then struggled to hoist himself up. She led him to a trunk where he could prop his leg up and then settled herself on a trunk near him. Charles slept soundly, thankfully, as she settled him in her lap and hunched over to try to ease the monthly pains.

"Your time has started, hasn't it? You have that inward look of pain." He scooted over to make room on his trunk for her.

She moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder as he pressed on her back. The jostling in this car hurt. "Your leg won't take this for long," she gasped with another hard cramp.

"I'll be fine. Tanya? You weren't pregnant. It was early to tell for certain, but I don't believe it's a miscarriage."

With a nod, she sighed. "I'm sorry we have to ride here."

"Hush. There's no reason to apologize." He kissed the side of her neck.

The farther West, the more people recognized her features. And the more Mark was denied service until she had to remain hidden in the luggage car while he procured inn rooms and then snuck her in the back doors.

Mark finally couldn't handle the poor train conditions bouncing his leg, so he procured the only other means - a postchaise that was different looking than the ones in England. Only a couple passengers could fit inside.

She glanced at a colored man holding the back of the carriage up near the luggage.

"Two tickets," Mark told the driver.

The man looked down his nose at her. "The Brown stays."

Mark blinked, as it seemed to take him a moment to register the new vulgar word for her. "She and the babe ride inside."

"Only whites and slaves ride, and they ride in the back. We don't serve wild heathens."

A long-winded, angry sigh came from Mark. Gritting his teeth, he glanced at her in apology. "I have ownership papers." He looked ill as he pulled out the slave papers and showed them to the man.

"You take full responsibility for her behaviour?"

"She's not an animal," he said in disgust, "She's my wife."

"A good fuck?" he smirked.

Mark shoved him against the carriage by the collar. "Should we ever meet without a lady present, I'll be more than happy to introduce you to some men who can show you a good fuck," he hissed.

"Mark!"

The other man jumped down and cocked a gun at him.

Mark simply snatched it and backed up a step to aim at the driver. "I suggest you drive before you're caught in a highway robbery."

When the carriage hurried away, Mark looked at the gun. "Hm, this is a nice one." Then he pocketed it and turned to her. "My apologies. It looks like the train is our best option."

"Mark? What's the difference between bond slave and slave papers?" she asked in the luggage car.

He swallowed hard and met her eyes. "It is a step lower - the only type of papers available for Native Americans. You should hear it from me so you're prepared for any gossip. It...it gives me legal right to your body however I please too."

She frowned. "But marriage gives a man right to rape his wife too."

"In some areas, marriage to a Native American isn't recognized. In those cases, it could be claimed that any man has right to enslave you. This paper is a way to give me legal action to protect you as my 'property.' I'm...I'm beginning to understand why your father took your mother to Spain. There are dangers out here to you that I didn't understand when we were in England."

"Do you wish to live in Spain? You're about as discriminated as I am, being with me."

"We will see what life is like out West. If it poses a danger to you, I will not promise that we stay." He took her hand. "Know that whether I have to say you're Spanish or a slave, it doesn't mean I'm ashamed of you. Situations will arise when it's simply a matter of your safety."

She nodded. "I know. I love you."

"I love you, my lady love."


"Grandmama, I'm so naked." Looking down at herself days later in Grandmama's teepee, she frowned. A deerskin dress that left her shoulders, arms and legs bare in the summer heat was too indecent.

"Nonsense. The men are helping Mark dress in customary clothes for the weather too. You look beautiful."

Some other women in the tribe put small braids at the front of her hair with feathers at the end and a beaded necklace around her throat.

"You beautiful," one of the women about her age said in broken English.

One of the other women touched her brown hair that didn't match their black locks, saying something to another woman with a nod of approval.

"They are jealous of your beauty, but they said you seem too kind to be a threat to the single men in the tribe," Grandmama whispered.

Her eyes widened. "I'm wed."

"The Elders would have a right to dissolve the marriage being Mark is a white man, and you were given without permission from Grandfather. However, he convinced them that you are happy. They'll announce the intended courtship tonight."

"Courtship?"

Grandmama nodded. "You weren't properly wed. You and Mark shall have a courtship and then a wedding."

"Grandmama, we're wed in the world I grew up in. Mark will not undergo three tests - "

"His leg already proves his love. He's highly respected by the Elders for it already. You shall want a courtship to make your marriage known by our customs - word of Mark's bravery and intellect spread, and you might have to fight off some of the women. Now, off you go."

The women pushed her out of the teepee in the center of their tribe where the Elders lived. She stumbled out and blushed hard as Mark was pushed out of another hut. He was shirtless in deerskin pants and wore some type of necklace. His breadth dwarfed the other men, and he stood a head taller than them. The pants and moccasins hid his prosthesis enough that only the cane gave him away.

His eyes perused up, causing an intense blush. The dress clung far too tight for decency. And then it dawned that it probably showed the breast deformity. Pulling her hands up under her chin, she hid it from view.

He limped across the gap and smiled. "You look beautiful." His hand eased her arms down. "Don't hide," he whispered in encouragement. "It is hardly noticeable, if aware of the injury. And only I know, sweetheart."

Then he slipped his necklace over his head. "Tiger said I must court you, which apparently requires making the woman a gift. I'm not yet skilled in hunting or anything, so this is all I have to offer."

With a shy smile, she reached to take it, but Grandmother's hand stopped her. "No, Tanya."

"But - " She frowned.

Mark smothered a smile, but confusion danced in his eyes. "I didn't do it right?"

"Did you ask for Tiger's permission to court her?" Grandmama glanced at Grandfather, who stood among the Elders with a frown.

"I did."

"But in front of the Elders?" Grandmama asked gently.

"Oh." The dear man looked uncertain what to do. "It's too late now?"

"Out of respect to the Elders, you must reject his gift. Usually, he would be banned from courtship for several months as punishment. Because he is still learning our ways, he will return tomorrow with a gift. And the next few evenings."

She frowned. "Why?"

"To show that he is devoted enough to you that he'll pursue. He shall not be allowed to approach you in public until then. You'll sleep in the teepee with Grandfather and I until you're wed."

"He can't see Charles?"

"Your grandfather will take him to Mark each day." Grandmama patted her hand. "Come, Tanya."

As Grandmama pulled her away, she looked back at Mark. A soft smile touched his lips, with a little bit of heartache at not being with her for a week.

The ways of Grandfather's people were foreign, but everyone seemed happy to teach her. The men remained separate for the most part, except for the evenings when the tribe gathered around fires to celebrate the return of the Medicine Man's long-lost granddaughter.

Mark sat with the men and conversed, but he often let his eye wander to her.

"Your cheeks red when White Man look."

She looked to the left at the man who spoke. It was Bear, the most respected hunter who bore scars on his chest from a bear attack he'd won. He was very quiet and rumored to become an Elder in the next few years for his wisdom - the youngest Elder in their history, and he was a year younger than Mark. "I grew up in the white man's world. I wed him months ago when I came to America."

"You love White Man?" He studied Mark.

"I do. That's not the name he's been given, is it?" Grandmama said her name was going to be Sunshine, for bringing light back to her grandparents. She frowned and looked over at Mark. His eyes narrowed across the fire on Bear.

"He has skill?"

"Of course he has skills! He's a very respected medicine man and highly intelligent businessman - "

"What animal he fight eat his leg?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Five men who had knives and guns," she said with her nose in the air.

Bear turned his gaze to her and smiled. "You not obedient woman."

Shooting to her feet, she headed toward where Grandmama sat with the older women fussing over Charles.

"It good. Not obedient women smart." He fell into step beside her. "You read?"

"Of course I can read!"

"Books. I have lots from Englishman trade for horse. You teach me?"

She stopped. Books. How many months it'd been since having a book that wasn't an outdated medical textbook. "Why?"

"Want to learn English. Read English, be intelligent job." When her eyebrow cocked, he scratched his neck. "Wrong word. You Englishman buy horse." Then he touched his chest. "I know English words. Make money."

"You want to learn English so you can make better negotiations?"

"Yes!" He grinned.

Heaving a sigh, she looked back at the gathering near the fire. Mark's gaze still zeroed in on her, paying little attention to the commotion around him. Then she looked up at Bear. "I'll ask my grandmother if this is proper."

Bear followed her over, taking her hand as she stepped over a log seat. She pulled it away immediately.

Grandmother looked up, her smile fading upon seeing the physical contact. After hearing the situation, she looked to Bear and spoke in a foreign tongue. Then Grandmama turned. "I told him that he is to maintain proper distance, as Mark has received approval from the Elders to court you. In exchange for your teaching, Bear will teach you our language. It will be done in public in front of our hut for propriety."


Another item sat outside the hut the next morning. A fur rabbit skin, misshapen woven basket and crooked clay pot were in the mix of gifts waiting every morning. Nothing had arrived yesterday morning, but this morning was a bassinet woven of very fine reeds. It was lopsided and more triangular than square, but it was just as endearing as every gift that Mark had attempted.

Bear headed over with two cups of coffee, a book under his arm and another trinket to make chores easier, just like every morning. It looked like he carried a washboard this morning. Her heart fell a little, again no sign of Mark.

That afternoon, one of the women with child left the tribe and headed toward the woods. "Where is she going?" Setting down the book, she stood to see when the woman doubled over in pain and then kept heading for the woods. "Bear, I think she's giving birth."

"Women have baby, then come back." He acted so nonchalant.

Her eyes flew to him. "Alone? No women go with? What about Grandfather? Surely he must attend."

The woman fell to her knees and cried out in pain - far too much pain for childbirth. Without waiting for an answer, she shot across the tribe, darting around huts and people to where the men gathered to go hunting. "Mark!"

All heads turned in surprise and Mark emerged from the group.

"A woman left to birth, and something's wrong!" Dodging under his arm, she slid an arm around his waist to help him hurry.

Grandfather ran ahead and grabbed both his and Mark's medical bags.

"No." Elders stepped before them and pulled her away. "No women. Tiger fix."

"If she has placenta previa or a ruptured uterus, she'll need surgery. I need Tanya there," Mark argued.

"Tiger fix," they ordered.

Mark glanced over at her and pushed forward through the Elders.

She waited several minutes until the men were distracted and then ran around the outside of the tribe to where Mark and Grandfather had started surgery in the middle of the field.

"Tanya, boil some water and crush the purple herbs in Tiger's bag. We're completely unsterile and need to apply that poultice internally so she doesn't get infection."

Running back to the tribe, she had women boil water and then worked with several more to create a gurney to bring the woman home to a clean bed. When she returned to Mark, a babe's cry filled the air. "Are they alright?" She knelt as he put the poultice deep in the woman and Grandfather cleaned the babe.

"Yes." Mark gasped out the word. His hands shook and a bead of sweat ran down his brow.

Her eyes flew to his leg, where he had to kneel on the end of his poor leg to properly reach for surgery. "I'll close her, Mark." She glanced at Grandfather, who looked at Mark in concern too.

After the men loaded the woman and babe, she and Grandfather pulled Mark to his feet. A soft cry of pain escaped when he put weight on his leg.

Dropping to her knees, she eased off the prosthesis that was too tight from the swelling. "He's bleeding." Her voice shook at the sight of the blood soaked bandage. Palpating the end of his leg, she swallowed hard. Muscle atrophy had already changed the shape of his leg in the three weeks since fitting the prosthesis. Infection from an ulcered amputation was the primary way young amputees died.

"It's alright," Grandfather promised. "Let's get him to bed. We'll put on a poultice," he said, as if reading her mind.

Bear stepped forward out of nowhere and helped Grandfather get Mark back.

At Mark's hut, Grandmama caught her arm. "You're not wed. You can't go in there."

She shook off her hand. "I am wed to him. He's my husband and hurt."

"Tanya, the Elders can order him to leave the tribe if he compromises you. Men who do not respect women are not welcomed - "

"He's hurt!"

Grandfather stepped out. "Go. I will see to him. The padding in the prosthesis slipped, and the hardware cut into his leg. I'll pack the wound and see how he fares by tomorrow." Then his voice dropped to a whisper. "Come when the moonlight is overhead."

Soft gasps of pain escaped Mark's hut over the next several minutes. "I'm right here," she sniffled and sank to her knees on the other side of his deerskin hut.

"I'm alright," he panted through the wall, "don't cry."

"The bleeding won't slow. I have to pack this deep. It's going to hurt." Grandfather sounded sick to his stomach. "Tanya's right there."

A god-awful scream and then silence.

"He fainted."

She burst into sobs.


The mother recovered well the next two days, as Mark battled a fever from infection. All day she sat outside his hut. In the middle of the night, Grandfather would sneak her inside for a few hours. Mark had no strength beyond holding her hand and accepting sips of water that she pushed upon him.

Grandfather stepped out of the hut on the third day, looking as bleary as she felt. "His fever seems to have broken. He's so weak that he cannot leave bed for several more days."

She gave a slow nod. Now that Mark was improving, Grandfather wouldn't permit risking midnight visits.

Mr. Price had said to not bother returning if they didn't come back after one week. The train departed yesterday. "Is he asleep?" When Grandfather nodded, she met his eyes. "I need to send a letter telling Brigands and Teresa to pack up and come. We'll be fired for not returning on time."

Grandfather set a hand on her shoulder. "We will help you make a life here."

Her eyes strayed to the hut. "Except Mark loved practicing medicine there. He was so afraid for me to stay here. I didn't mean to trap us out here." She burst into tears.

"You are overtired. It was an accident that he got hurt. If you and the babe are safe, he'll figure out how to make a home wherever you are."

Bear helped carve a smooth finish on the thick wood sticks a few days later. "Why we make sticks?"

She brushed the sweat from her brow under the hot summer sun. "Mark will need crutches."

"Oh." He didn't sound pleased.

"Stand. You're about his height."

When Bear did, a sour expression touched his face as she measured the stick. "Why love White Man? Not skill besides medicine. No protect you, no fast enough hunt food."

Her back snapped ramrod straight, and cold eyes met his gaze. He kept quiet after that.

The women helped figure out how to make padding on the crutches for under Mark's arms.

Days later, Mark stepped out of the hut on crutches, his complexion so pale.

"Dizziness?"

He turned his face up to the sun. "It feels good to be outside."

Breaking the rules, she picked up Charles from where he crawled with a wood toy in the grass, and walked over to Mark. "How do you feel?"

His head whipped to her and a smile brightened his features. "Better. You look tired."

"I've been worried about you." And the nightmares had returned not being near his protection at night.

He stroked Charles's hair, and the babe smiled and cooed.

"Come sit in the sun for a bit. Tanya, I'm sure your grandmother needs help with chores." Grandfather gave a pointed look as he took Mark's arm and forced him around to a stone that would serve as a perfect chair to prop up Mark's leg.

As Grandfather settled him, Mark kept his eyes on her in longing. Then Grandfather retrieved Charles. "He misses you. The babe will be good to lift his spirits."

Wandering back to her hut, she stopped where Grandmama laid out laundry to dry.

"Do you want to finish the laundry while I go gather some berries for dinner?"

With a grateful smile, she took over and kept one eye on Mark playing with Charles. "He looks so pale."

"It is what you English call hospital pallor. He'll regain his strength."

After a bit, Charles laid against Mark's good leg and went to sleep. Grandfather said something and set some materials down beside him. Mark picked them up and began working on something for hours, as if determined to finish today.

Grandmama set a blanket around her shoulders. Blinking, she looked away from Mark. The sun had begun to set and a chill filled the air, like that before a storm.

"You've been staring at him all day." Grandmama sat on the log beside her.

She stood and stretched. "I didn't realize. I'm so stiff. I'll help you make dinner."

Grandmother pointed to a plate on the log. "I gave it to you an hour ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"You miss him, don't you?"

When she nodded without looking away from Mark, the worried tone caught her attention in Grandmama's next question.

"What is it that you dream about at night? I hear your muffled screams right before you wake up and cry."

Bowing her head, she swallowed hard. "The nightmares went away when I was with Mark."

A weathered, elegant hand rested on her arm. "No one will hurt you here. Soon you'll be with Mark again. He spoke to Grandfather, who spoke with the other Elders to plead his case. One more offering, and you may accept his courtship. The Elders agreed to a very short courtship and engagement." Silence. "You must eat, Tanya. You've lost weight and do not look well. He looked miserable before he got hurt. You two need each other."

"Then I don't understand why they're trying to keep us apart," she whispered with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"The Elders are not entirely convinced that a white man is an acceptable match. They wanted time to get to know him themselves."

"No other men speak to me, but Bear comes every day with some type of item to make chores easier. Is that...is that him trying to work his way to a courtship?" The question had seemed obsurd until now.

Grandmama nodded. "He's highly respected by the Elders and expressed interest when he heard of you coming. The Elders gave him permission, and your grandfather pushed for Mark to have equal chance."

"So, when Bear comes tomorrow, I simply reject his gift? I can tell he doesn't like when I speak of Mark, but he's offered words of comfort when Mark was so ill. He's a friend, but I love Mark."

"A gentle rejection. I know Bear seems a bit...dense in his broken English. He's very intelligent, as well as has a large heart. Be soft because I think he's been reading into things in our way, not understanding that you see him as a friend. The rest of us realized it, but I think he's so smitten he didn't see."

Mark was outside again the next day, hard at work making some kind of web on a circle of sticks when Bear came. Mark stilled and his eyes followed Bear walk over with two coffees and a beautiful clay pot.

Bear beamed and sat on the log beside her as she finished giving Charles small pieces of eggs. "His first food?"

She nodded. "He's eating too much for me alone to sustain him anymore."

"He small age?"

"There were complications when I was with child, so he is still trying to catch up in size."

"He grow big and strong. Mush," he said when Charles spit out more scrambled eggs. He smashed the eggs over and over until they were like a pulp. "Your milk he like." When her eyebrows rose, he laughed and handed her the plate before nodding to go in the hut. "Our women feed, no hide. You can go."

Tribal women seemed to openly breastfeed and the men seemed to think nothing of it. "I'm not taking off my dress in front of anyone." Stepping into the hut, she expressed some milk and mixed the eggs in before coming out.

Charles mashed the eggs with his two teeth and opened his mouth like a bird for more.

"He used to your taste." Bear smiled and gave Charles another spoonful.

She laughed and glanced up.

Mark watched with a solemn expression.

The smile melted. He was not only missing Charles's first meal, but watching another man fill his place. "Bear? Why am I allowed to talk to you, but not Mark?"

The happiness left his eyes. "We courting."

"What?"

His expression stoned over. "You not know." He looked away.

"Bear, if I've somehow led you to think I no longer love Mark, I apologize."

An embarrassed smile touched his lips, and he wouldn't make eye contact. "Thought you know take gifts mean courting."

"I thought the Elders only give one man permission to court. And that man was Mark. I enjoy your company as a friend, but I've always loved Mark."

With a nod, he picked up his pot.

"Bear?"

Clearing his throat, he turned to her but kept his eyes down. "Not give woman gifts before. I should have told rules. Thank you for English teaching." Then he hurried away.

Mark watched Bear hurry past and then looked at her in confusion.

Picking up Charles, she walked over. "Did you realize that he'd been courting me?"

A slow nod. "I suspected your grandparents had pressed you to give him a chance." He glanced after Bear, who abandoned the pot next to an old woman and kept walking. "I'd wager you just told him that you didn't realize it and let him go." His blue eyes returned to her.

She nodded. "I said I wanted to be friends, but I don't think he's interested."

His lips pressed together in a sad line. "To believe to be winning you and then lose you...it would break any man's heart enough that friendship would just be painful."

With a sigh, she sank to the grass beside him. "I don't understand their ways. I didn't mean to hurt him."

"His heart will recover in time."

Looking at the web he'd made on the circle of sticks, she cocked her head. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Your grandfather says you sent word to Brigands. I'm sorry. Will you be happy here? We can move to the outskirts of town in a log house. I'm trying to figure out how I can build it myself being we won't have means or lumberyard men to help."

"I think perhaps it'll be good for us to be here where we don't have to worry about money and things for awhile. Will you be happy?"

"I'll be happy once I can be with you. I miss you."

"Get home!" Grandmama came stomping over. "You'll ruin everything if the Elders see you breaking the rules!"

With a sigh that seemed to be the only thing she did anymore, she gathered Charles and returned to her hut.


The next morning, she almost tripped over the large thing Mark had been making the past two days. From the bottom, beautiful feather danced from strings.

"He finished." Grandmama's voice came from closer behind.

"What is it?"

"A dream catcher. It catches bad spirits before they can enter your head and cause nightmares. I told Mark that you've been having nightmares. Your grandfather must've told him about dream catchers. Now, you must give Mark a gift."

"Don't tell me that I have to make things for him for a week now," she groaned.

Grandmama smiled. "You must give him a gift of acceptance."

She wandered the woods while Grandmama watched Charles. A rose? Herbs for his medicine bag? What did one give a man to accept his courtship when she was no more gifted in pottery or hunting than him?

A loud crunch of a thick branch snapping. Spinning around, she froze.

A moose snorted and stomped its foot. Bear mentioned once that moose were as dangerous as bears, but they trampled instead of gutted victims. They could easily fall these thin trees. The best escape may be to run, but to where? It could surely outrun her.

"Yah!" A deep voice boomed and hooves thundered from behind. A man rode bareback on a horse straight toward the moose. Five more of the tribe followed, shooting arrows of fire near the animal and making war calls.

Mark put himself between her as the moose made a strange sound of fear and anger. "Take my hand and hold tight because I can't balance well bareback!"

Grabbing his hand, she jumped as his horse spooked forward when the moose charged. Mark's strength was enough to pull her up, although he struggled to balance with only half a thigh to grip one side of the horse. Riding bareback wasn't foreign, being a poor child, so she wrapped her arms around his middle and grabbed the horse's mane before getting a firm grip with her own thighs to balance.

The moose gained speed. The men reloaded their arrows and charged after them.

"Give him his head!" She grabbed Mark's hands and jerked them lower, unintentionally pulling some of the horse's hair out. The moment the horse had free head movement, he shot forward.

"Can you jump bareback?" he yelled over the pounding of hooves into the earth. He looked over his shoulder and urged the poor horse faster.

"Yes, you?"

"We're going to find out!" He aimed right for a small cliff.

"That's too far with two of us on a horse!" She looked behind. The moose lowered its head to attack, and the men's arrows were falling short of hitting the animal.

"Get in my lap!"

With no time to argue, she climbed in front and wrapped her arms around him. The next instant was a free fall. Mark's arms tightened around her and the air knocked out as the ground hit and Mark rolled, using his body to cushion her. When the rolling stopped, she panted in his arms for a moment as the trembling subsided.

"Are you alright?" His voice came out tight, and he let go.

"Yes. You?" She pushed herself up and patted him down as he sat up.

"Just bumps." He looked over at the horse running in the field in distress. "Be careful catching him."

The men cheered from the other side. Peeking over the edge, she smiled in relief to see the moose swimming in the pond below. She caught the horse and walked him in circles to calm the poor thing.

"How is he?"

"It just looks like his knees are a little scraped, but his gait is sound." She led the horse over to Mark.

Pushing himself up, he held the horse's mane for balance. "Alright, you're not strong enough to toss me up, and I can't mount bareback on my own. Get on one knee. If I place my foot close enough to your knee, the weight will go straight through your foot into the ground rather than break your leg."

"Oh, this sounds fun."

"Trust me." He said it so matter of fact like they discussed the weather.

"Do you know how we get back from here?"

"Of course. We go hunting on these plaines. Buffalo tend to wander here in the early morning - be careful where you kneel."

"See you home!" one of the men yelled.

Mark waved and then set a hand on her shoulder. "Keep your head back so I don't knee your chin. Hold your back firm. When I jump onto your knee, I'm going to pound your knee straight down. The ground is soft enough that it'll take the pressure for you. As I kick off, let it knock you to the side so your head is out of the way as I swing up my leg."

"This sounds like ten ways to beat me up in five seconds." She gave a nervous laugh.

"Do you trust me?" He looked down at her.

"I trust that you don't think you will hurt me."

"I tried this before and only gave a black eye."

"What?!" she screeched.

He chuckled. "No, I've never done it before, but I promise you won't get hurt if you do it as I say."

"Oh god, just do it." Closing her eyes, she plopped onto the side of her hip a moment later. Looking up, she blinked to see him on top of the horse.

"See? I didn't kill you." He smiled and held down a hand.

Rolling her eyes, she stood and let him tug her up behind him.

Riding in companionable silence for a few minutes, she rested her cheek against his bare back. "I miss this. I miss lying in bed with you and climbing into your lap for a kiss and...just everything."

"I miss this too." His hand touched her arm around his waist. "Why were you in the woods alone?"

"I was trying to figure out what to give you for your courtship gift."

"Mine?"

"Yes, Grandmama said I have to give you something in acceptance. I was thinking some of those medicinal herbs for your medicine bag."

He sighed. "That certainly was not worth risking your life."

"I didn't think it was dangerous to be at the edge of the woods." Best to change topic before he scolded. "Thank you for the dream catcher."

"Your grandmother said you've been having nightmares again." Worry etched his tone.

"They're so vivid," she whispered and held him tighter.

Just then, the clouds opened and cool summer rain fell.

"Perfect." A chance to get some time alone to woo her, and rain decided to turn them into drowned rats. That fairy-like laugh filled the air. Looking over his shoulder, a smile tugged upon witnessing all the strain from the past months flee her face.

The little minx climbed around to straddle his lap and draped her arms around his neck. "I've always wanted to kiss you in the rain."

Dear god, she looked so beautiful, even with her hair plastered around her face and dress soaked to the bone. "Tanya, I want nothing more than to make love to you," he breathed and stopped the horse. Capturing her delicate face in his hands, he pressed his lips to hers and let the flames consume. God bless this hideous stump, for once, as it was the only thing keeping him a gentleman right now.

An hour ride back to the tribe went too fast, despite the five pauses to steal delicious kisses. Before approaching the tribe, he convinced her to sit behind him again for propriety. Losing the feel of her body pressed to his was like losing a little piece of his heart - it caused an ache in his chest.

Stopping at her hut, he offered an arm as she slid off. When she looked up with that smile, it may as well have been his sun. Starting the horse forward before gossip took hold, he held her hand until the last moment and watched her as the horse led itself to his hut. She ducked inside her hut, causing a deeper pang of loss.

He slid off the horse and held on as he reached inside the teepee and pulled out his crutches. Setting the horse free to roam with the others, he walked around to bring in his soaking wet laundry. The damn crutches suctioned into the mud, as did his foot, making it difficult to walk. When he turned with the laundry slung over a shoulder, he stopped short.

Tanya stood there with so much love and hope in her eyes. A shiver ran down her body.

"Why are you still out here? You should go dry off before you catch your death." He set a hand on her arm to turn her around, but she resisted.

Taking his hand, she tied a thin, brown braided rope around his wrist. "Grandmama says when a woman accepts a proposal, she gives the man a lock of hair to weave into his braid. You don't have hair long enough..." Those brown eyes looked up when she finished tying it.

His heartstrings pulled. "But I haven't even proposed."

"I know. This is my 'yes' when you do," she said softly. "I would think it counts as my 'yes' for courting too."

Capturing her face in his hands, he kissed her with abandon, not caring who saw because she was his now, his to love for all to see.