Chapter 7—"Goodbye, My Name is Love"

Translation: "Voneotse ohtsévátanó. Nâhtse'eme véstâhéotse monêstsêhóvan hësta hóseto." You have lost love. My love (wife) will help you find your heart again.

"Tonóohtá?" Wait for me?

After Michaela sent the children off to school, she didn't go straight to the clinic like she intended. Instead, she detoured. She went inside and looked at the well kempt homestead. She had done everything that morning, except make her bed.

She didn't want to admit why.

But she knew. She knew.

Slowly, she walked over to the bed and touched the yellow and red quilt. She ran her hand down the left side where he had laid; and as if her mother were watching, she turned around quickly, making sure no one in the empty cabin knew her secrets. Then, indulgently, she lifted the quilt to her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

Yes, she could still smell him.

Wood, leather, man—all around her. They had been so close. Too close. She wanted to crawl up inside of him, yet she blushed at her physical response to his presence. To the physical response she had even now.

And her heart… It was like an open, empty vessel, waiting for him, but she didn't know how to carry him, to make room for him inside a space she had so thoroughly kept clean all of her life.

Her fingers caught on her blouse buttons, and she exhaled, her breath shaking as she felt

him surround her. She wanted him… She wanted him… but how? How? Her hand broke through her shirt clumsily, as she felt the cumbersome weight of her camisole against her breast. Her fingers clutched the pure white skin, unseen by eyes or light since she was a small child, but she found no tenderness for herself there, only a deep hollowness, a loss she could never fill alone. Her fingers turned into a tight fist, and she couldn't stop herself as she hit her chest as hard as she could, breaking her own heart.

"Why?" She gripped the blanket, drowning herself in his scent as she closed her eyes and sank to the ground, covering her face and body with yellow and red. "Why did you tell him?"

Their ride had been a quiet one.

Sully couldn't stop thinking about the last time Michaela had ridden with him—the day Snowbird had given her Flash. They had fought over the reins the entire journey—she couldn't stand not having her own horse. Eventually, their hands had tangled, and slowly, slowly, slowly, they began to steer the horse together.

As the woman pressed closer to his back, Sully pulled up on his reins by himself as he saw the familiar teepees. He slid off the horse and helped her down. Cloud Dancing couldn't help but notice the distracted eyes of his brother as this misplaced woman clung to his side. He seemed to be stabling this wild creature, although the affect was not mutual. Cloud Dancing had never felt or seen such an unstable stirring in Sully as he did today.

Kindly, he held out his hands for the woman. She peered into his eyes, seeing warmth and wisdom, the same as her father, Walks Last. Slowly, she let go of Sully's hand and took the outstretched hands before her. Cloud Dancing looked into her eyes, seeing the white engulfing the blue, and he knew. He tightened his grip on her hands, sending her his strength, for he knew the intense pain of her unspoken sorrow. "Voneotse ohtsévátanó."

The woman shivered and released his hands, exhaling a cry of relief as someone finally saw and understood her loss. She buried her head in his chest, almost laughing as the pain overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes and remembered her father as Cloud Dancing put his hand protectively over her head. "Nâhtse'eme véstâhéotse monêstsêhóvan hësta hóseto."

As if she had heard him call her, Snowbird appeared from behind the teepee, waiting solemnly at a distance for the woman. The woman pulled back from Cloud Dancing, seeing Snowbird waiting for her. She turned to Sully, and he nodded encouragingly.

"Tonóohtá?" She asked, her eyes filling with gratitude and something she couldn't name yet.

"Yes." Sully nodded as she turned away and went with Snowbird.

Cloud Dancing crossed his arms as the women departed, eyeing him. Sully noticed and shifted, walking past Cloud Dancing. "So what provisions do ya need me to get from—"

"Something has happened." Cloud Dancing stopped him cold.

Sully's head fell, and his back rose in a deep, labored breath. Abruptly, he threw open the flap to Cloud Dancing's teepee and stepped inside, unknowingly trapping himself. "I can't talk about it."

Cloud Dancing followed him and sealed the flap. He sat down on his rugs and waited, watching his friend pace in the small, dark space. Finally, he spoke, "Men who do not talk bloat from hoarding their words."

Sully finally stopped. He tried finding his breath, but he found his words instead. "I think I'm losin' her, Cloud Dancin'."

Cloud Dancing sat back. "Are you sure it is not yourself who is lost?"

"What do ya mean?" Sully sank to his knees.

Cloud Dancing reached for his pipe, busying himself as his voice paid attention to Sully. "I've been watching you, my friend. It's hard to focus on what she needs when you're focusing on what you want."

Sully turned his head, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Was he really that obvious? "You think I'm bein' selfish?"

Cloud Dancing lit his pipe and took a smoke. He exhaled and grinned at Sully knowingly. "No. I think you're a man in love with a beautiful woman. Smoke?"

Sully took the pipe gratefully. He let the smoke move through him, calming his nerves as he admitted softly, "I am that."

"But she's a woman. A woman." Cloud Dancing lifted his hands in a gesture of exaltation and reverence. "You must pay close attention. You must take care of her."

Sully slammed the piped down, letting out his frustration. "But she won't let me—"

Cloud Dancing lifted his eyebrows and took back the pipe, packing the tobacco securely in place that Sully had heatedly knocked out. "Not the way you are thinking. You must give her space and show patience. She will come to you when there is distance to cross."

"We were so close last night," Sully whispered, his knuckles tightening in an hard, clinched fist.

"And you are losing your sight because of it. I know Dr. Mike. Her love for you is vast. Don't lose your sight because of distance. It can always be crossed."

Then, Snowbird lifted the flap to the tent and peered inside, an apprehensive look on her normally unreadable face.

"What is it?" Cloud Dancing asked.

"I have done all I can. I think it best she leaves with you now, Sully." Snowbird looked down, her face filling with shame. Sully eyed Cloud Dancing and quickly got up, knowing not to leave the woman alone for very long.

"What is it, nâhtse'eme?" Cloud Dancing reached for her hand as she fell to her knees beside him, reaching to her husband for comfort.

"She was a member of Porcupine Bear's war party." Cloud Dancing's eyes grew wide and he stood quickly, pushing back the flap as he caught Sully helping the woman on his horse.

Sully climbed up behind her. He turned around and looked at Cloud Dancing. "We're gonna go fishin'. Thanks for talkin' to her… and for what ya said. We'll talk later?"

Cloud Dancing nodded, not revealing anything as Snowbird slipped her hand inside his. "Are you going to tell him?" She asked as they watched them ride away.

He squeezed Snowbird's hand as they disappeared into the woods. "Sully said everyone was killed by the army except for her, but we can never be sure. It's better if she stays as she is in town. As a white woman."

"But her soul is Indian. Someone will want her back. I am afraid," Snowbird leaned on his shoulder and whispered, "I am afraid."

As Sully reeled in his eighth fish, the woman waited with the net, watching his graceful movements as he brought the unwieldy trout into captivity. She closed her hands over his as he dropped it into her net, and together, they pulled the hopeless creature off of the hook.

Sully smiled at her and breathed, letting himself focus on anything but Michaela. "Pêhéva'ov mésêhestôtse." As she made no response and only peered into his eyes, he attempted to speak English with her, "These'll be good for supper. Do you like fish?"

Again, she didn't reply but simply took the trout from her net and added it to the weighty basket of fish they had collected. Sully smirked a little. "Well, I guess you're ready to go then."

He loaded his fishing equipment over his shoulder and then attempted to lift the basket of fish. The woman shook her head, pushing his hand away as she lifted the heavy basket by herself. "I'll carry them," Sully said as he tried to take the basket from her again.

Insistently, she pushed his hands by his side and nodded once, so he understood that he was not to help her. "Ok. Ok," Sully finally gave up, "You win."

They began to walk side by side, and Sully suppressed his need to help her even though he could tell the basket was too heavy for her to carry all the way back to the meadow where they left the horse. But, she kept on going. She certainly was a stubborn woman. Suddenly, she dropped the basket, spilling the fish across the ground as the woman abandoned the suffocating creatures, her eyes focusing on something Sully couldn't see.

Sully followed her, dropping his fishing pole besides the discarded fish, his curiosity purging him as she went to the water. "What is it?"

She lifted the fallen hawk feather, seeing Chasing Hawk's proud headdress that he wore for her simply because she had made it for him. She didn't know where his headdress was now. It was not on his head when he died. She tried to look at Sully but couldn't. She looked up instead, searching for her hawk. Too many goodbyes. She didn't want to say another one. Her body shook with goodbyes as she finally spoke a word she had never been able to forget, "Sad."

Sully froze as he heard the word. He kneeled close to her and searched for her eyes.

"You can speak English?"

She nodded nervously, her body shaking as she tried to communicate with him.

"Long time ago."

Sully reached for shoulders, not letting her fall into herself. "It's alright."

She looked up again, seeing no sign of life in the air, seeing no hand reaching out for her, so, she looked down, and tried to focus on the man in front of her. "My family. Gone."

Sully nodded, finding her distraught eyes and bringing her closer to him. "Your Indian family."

"Soldiers kill..." She cried.

He had known it had happened the first day he had seen her. He couldn't picture it, and he knew his words were only hollow sentiments. "I know. That makes me sad, too."

She finally met his eyes, desperation pouring from them as she gripped the hawk feather. "I want to go back to my tribe!"

Sully looked down, knowing there was nothing he could do. "Fraid there's no tribe to go back to. I'm sorry."

The woman swallowed, taking in his words. She gripped the hawk feather in her hand. She didn't want to say goodbye, so she wouldn't. She would just let him go. She dropped the feather in the creek and watched it until it disappeared under the water. Then, she heard Sully's voice again. He was the only person left. He touched her arms, bringing her back to his world. "How old were you when you came to live with the Indians?"

She didn't like to think about it. It made her ask too many questions. But, she went back, and she saw the girl. She held up both of her hands. Ten fingers.

"You were ten?" Sully's heart broke for her. He had been ten. His fingers fell in between hers, and he felt it then. The loss of his mother. The loss of her mother. Her father. His father. They were all in those fingers. Between those hands. And he held on to her as he went back, as he saw the boy, watching his mother reach for him, falling between the currents of the Hudson, and he couldn't do anything because his father hadn't lived long enough to teach him how to swim. And he couldn't save her. It was his fault. But, the hands in front of him—he could reach. He could save her. "How did it happen?"

She closed her eyes and gripped his hands. "The night. Many horses. Fire."

Sully pressed past the memory, sensing her pain as he tried to find the answer to the problem. "Do you know what happened to your white family?"

She shook her head, keeping her eyes closed. He lifted her chin, making her focus on him. "Do you remember where you grew up?"

She looked around, searching, but couldn't see it until she looked into his eyes. "By ocean."

Sully smiled and swallowed, admitting softly, "Me too."

She was smiling too. She didn't seem so sad anymore. He could pretend he wasn't for a moment when he looked at her. Suddenly, he remembered his responsibility and continued, "What's your name?"

She quivered in his arms and answered him, "Shivering Deer."

"What was your name before...when you were a little girl?"

She frowned and searched, wanting to help him, loving the look in his eyes when she found the answer. "Catherine."

Her eyes sparkled with tears as he said her name, "Catherine. That's a real pretty name."

Another memory came with the old words, and she gripped his arms. "My grandmother's

name."

Sully had to tell Michaela. This is what they were hoping for—he needed to see her. She would know what to do from here. "Would you like us to try and find her?"

Catherine nodded, and Sully lifted her to her feet. Sully turned towards the discarded fish. They were all dead in the sand. Quickly, he threw them back in the basket, trying to retain some of their freshness. Still, the stench of betrayal threatened in their cold fish eyes as he buried them in their braided casket.

As Michaela dismounted Flash, she heard his voice call her name from across the road. She braced herself against Flash's saddle and turned around, forcing a smile across her face that she did not feel, especially when she saw the woman holding his hand again.

Something was different about his face, and she felt her heartbeat canter up her throat. "What is it?"

Sully stopped in front of her, taking a deep, excited breath before he told her the news. "Catherine can speak English… I think she's got family somewhere back East. We can help her now."

"Catherine?" Michaela looked between Sully and the woman, trying to catch up to them.

Catherine stepped forward, finally letting go of Sully's hand, and reached for Michaela's. "My name."

Michaela's mouth dropped. Then, a real smile spread across her face, and she took Catherine's other hand in hers. "That's…that's wonderful, Catherine!"

"I thought you might have some ideas of what to do for her." Sully smiled gingerly.

She looked over Catherine's shoulder and found Sully's eyes. His expression matched hers—it was moments like these when absolutely no confusion lied between them. When they were helping someone.

Michaela sparked. "What if we were to post some sort of national advertisement—"

Sully stepped closer to her, catching her train of thought immediately. "Maybe start through the Gazette—"

"Of course! Dorothy could write it for us—"

"Then send it out to all those fancy city papers—" Sully finished wryly, not knowing why he was suddenly feeling relief barbing with her.

"Why don't we go ask her right now?" Michaela charged forward, almost feeling like last night had never happened when she worked with him like this. The three of them walked down the road in silence, Catherine following them obediently.

"Loren!" Michaela bound into the store with Sully and Catherine directly behind her.

Loren jumped, agitation sweeping over him after another spat with Dorothy. "Whattya want?"

Michaela put her arm around Catherine's shoulder, encouraging her to step forward. "We've got some great news. Catherine—that's her name—Catherine can speak a little English. And she may have family somewhere. We thought Dorothy could help us through the Gazette."

Loren twisted his mouth. Optimistic do-gooders. He nodded towards the back room. "Awe! She's in there."

Dorothy stared at the three of them, taking in the request. She couldn't deny that this woman intrigued her, and besides that, this was the chance for her story. She nodded, trying to remain humble. "I suppose I could write up a little piece and send it to cities back East."

Michaela put her hand over Dorothy's, a subtle warning in her voice. "Her English isn't perfect. Be gentle with her."

Catherine peered into the lady's inquisitive eyes and stepped back into Sully's arms. Softly, Sully reassured her, "This lady is a good friend. She's gonna ask you some things so she can help find your family."

Catherine frowned, but then slowly nodded as she looked into his eyes. Michaela turned around and waited for Catherine to let go of Sully.

It was only a moment, but the time passed into last night again.

"We'll give you two some privacy," Michaela said quickly, not really knowing who she was talking to as she left the room, but as she made her way outside the store, she felt his hand on her arm.

Michaela stopped as Sully came and stood beside her on the porch. Their shoulders brushed, but they didn't look at each other. They both chose to look at the moving town instead. "Ya did good. I think… I think everything's gonna be alright now."

She looked down, seeing their feet parallel, his moccasins and her laced boots. They didn't seem to belong together. There didn't seem to be an answer. She sighed, knowing what he really meant. "For her?"

He nodded, wishing he could ask her about last night. "Yeah… For her."

Michaela turned to face him but held the folds of her skirt between her fingers. "It's wonderful. What you've done for her."

Sully shrugged and looked away, unable to keep her gaze without reaching for her. "I didn't do nothin' special."

"You got her to talk. To open up when no one else could." Michaela's throat was raw now. "She trusts you."

Sully turned and looked at her, his eyes glazed over now. "I'm not sure it's me."

Michaela suddenly dropped the folds of her skirt and stepped forward, fumbling for his hand as her laced boots stepped in between his moccasins. "It's you."

He frowned but gripped her hand in his. "You really believe that?"

She nodded vigorously, not knowing what else to do in broad daylight. "I see it."

Like a bolt, his hands were on either side of her face and his forehead pressed against hers. He was so close she thought her heart might burst from his weight. He whispered beyond passion, "Then why's it gotta be so hard for us?"

She closed her eyes and whispered unseeing, "Everybody's watching—"

Catherine looked out the window again as Dorothy began to ask her questions, hoping to see Sully, but he and Michaela were out of sight. Gone, without a goodbye.