Nearly there, but not quite. This is the penultimate chapter... Now Adam is reunited with his wife, there's still a big decision to be made...

It would take three days to reach the high camp. On the second day, after several hours of battling with the mule on increasingly steep slopes, the decision was taken to abandon the buckboard. Bill volunteered to be the one to return it to the fort. Thankfully, there were enough horses for everyone, but Ben was insistent Adam share a mount with someone and not ride alone. After heated words—Adam resolute in his conviction he could sit a saddle; he'd ridden with worse injuries than a few cuts and bruises—Ben relented with a grunt, but only with the proviso that he take it slowly, and always have someone by his side.

In the aftermath of the quarrel while a chastened Adam was being helped down from the cart, Hanska vaulted off his pony, handed his reins to Wanekia and clambered to the top of a large boulder. With a shout and a fist to the air, he turned and jumped down to the other side, disappearing into the rocky outcrops. He would make his own way back to the village. Kia wasn't a seasoned rider, and with a small child in a sling around her body, the men would take turns to lead her pony.

The ascent to the high camp was a torturous one for Adam. The increasingly fewer stints of riding on the flat were bearable. But when he had to lean forward due to the motion of an upward- clambering horse and clench his thighs around the body of the animal as it climbed; or when momentum shifted his weight sharply from side to side on a twisting trail; his battered body would cry out in pain. After a particularly long stretch without a break, exhaustion and hurt caused an unexpected light-headedness, and he toppled slowly off his mount. Perhaps it was luck, or the hand of the Great Spirit, but thankfully Hoss had been riding at his side and caught his brother in his arms as Adam fell towards him. The other men hurriedly dismounted and scrambled between the horses to take his weight and lower him to the ground where he could rest. But Adam's obstinate nature would not let him hold the company up for long, and he was soon insisting he was fine, that everyone should stop fussing and please help him back onto his horse.

It was with regret that they said goodbye to Bill Half-Foot. He had accompanied them as far as he could but saw the need to take the buckboard down to level ground as the perfect excuse to leave them. Bill wasn't a one for goodbyes, and once his own mount was secured to the back of the wagon, he climbed up onto the driver's seat and waved a farewell. Adam couldn't let him go that easily. With help he was boosted up onto Sport and loped down the track after the man who had now saved his life on two separate occasions. Bill pulled the mule to a stop, and watched as Adam reined in beside him and straightened his arms against the saddle pommel. His usual folded arm lean was too uncomfortable a pose at this time.

"I hope we don't meet again, Bill."

Bill raised his eyebrows.

"Because that'll mean I'm in a jail cell, tied in the back of an army wagon, been left somewhere to die…" Adam trailed off, one side of his mouth quirked in amusement. His mount paced briefly on the rocky slope and Adam pulled the animal around so he was facing up the track.

Adam looked away over the landscape spread like a fraying blanket beneath them. "You've been more than a friend to me, Bill. I don't know what to do, or say, to thank you."

"Gaaahh."

Adam looked back at him. "If you ever need—"

"Son," Bill interrupted. He didn't say anything for a moment as he chewed the inside of his mouth. "Ya one of the good ones. Jus' stay out of the way of crazy Injuns and money-grabbin' army men." With that he clicked at the mule which started to walk forward at a leisurely gait. Adam pulled his horse around to watch his friend for a few moments then wheeled the animal around to head back up the track. There was a shout behind him. Bill had stopped the buckboard and had twisted around to face Adam.

"There is one thing you can do," he called. "You make yourself some more babies with that woman o' yours." He shifted to face forward but then called over his shoulder. "And the first boy ya have, ya call him William."

xxxxxxx

They had been in the village for a little over a week. Under the expert, and tender, ministrations of his wife, Adam was making a rapid recovery. He had had to spend a couple of days on his back—under duress—when efforts to stand would result in him tumbling to the ground on more than one occasion. But it wasn't long before he was up and walking around, or merely sitting in front of his lodge with his Cartwright and Ute families nearby, gaining strength from the sun and their companionship.

When he was able to walk without draping his arm around someone's shoulder for support, Adam found himself strolling with Cameahwait down to the corral. The walk was leisurely as Adam was unable to move quickly on his still-sore feet. They lent against the rough fencing and Adam listened as Cam spoke of a larger-than-usual mule deer that had been spotted up on the rocky mountainside above the village. The buck was an impressive size and if they could track it, the village would eat well for many days. Adam nodded and agreed they should seek out the animal at the earliest opportunity. They stared at the horses for a few minutes, a comfortable silence between them. Then Adam turned to Cameahwait and before the Ute could react, Adam had pulled his fist back and swung it at Cam's jaw. The Indian fell back, catching himself on the fencing which creaked under his weight. He remained suspended with one arm crooked over a branch railing. Adam held his hand out to him, and after a moment's hesitation, Cam grasped it, letting Adam pull him upright.

"How's your jaw?" asked Adam.

Cameahwait opened his mouth, his fingers gingerly patting his face. "You don't hit as hard as Luyu when I have done something to upset her." He dropped his hand. "You have kept your promise."

Adam started to walk back to his lodge, letting Cam fall in beside him. "I'm going to have to ask Luyu to give me lessons in punching."

No more words would be said about what Cameahwait did, or didn't, do in Juniper Gorge that day. And although Adam's trust in Cam would need to be rebuilt, he had forgiven him. As for the clout, Adam's tender knuckles had never felt so good.

Kia had shared her story with Adam on their journey up the mountain. Although initially annoyed at his wife's stubbornness, Adam had become prouder and prouder of his obstinate wife as she had spoken of staying behind to await the return of the young warriors who had been sent out to find him. She had refused to cower or hide when the soldiers had unexpectedly surrounded them in the forest. She had stood tall, clutching Mimiteh to her chest, and thrown defiant looks at the uniformed men as she, Cameahwait and the Ute braves were marched at rifle point away from the forest clearing. After several days of travel, and on arrival at the fort, the Ute men had been bundled into the cells. They would spend the rest of their time incarcerated in the stockade until the captain had decided what to do with them.

Kia was taken in by one of the married couples and she and her daughter were treated kindly. But she was, to all intents and purposes, a prisoner. The lady of the house, Mrs. King, kept a close watch on her, and only let her out once a day when a soldier appeared at her door. Kia was grateful, however, for the strange but comfortable surroundings.

At first Kia was kept locked in the small store room attached to the one-room lodging which was home to Mrs. King and her sergeant husband. It had been quickly rearranged to accommodate a narrow bed. But Mrs. King took a liking to the young mother and, before long, Kia was allowed out into the main room where the women would talk as Kia helped with the daily household chores. Mrs. King was a sad creature, and watched with a sorrowful look of yearning on her face whenever Kia would pull down the front of her dress and put Mimiteh on her breast. She pleaded with Kia to let her hold the child. Kia was reticent at first but soon warmed to the lonely young woman and found unexpected pleasure in watching her play with her daughter.

Kia showed her defiance again when Cameahwait fought back against the removal of the Ute boys from the fort. She had screamed when Cam had fallen to the ground bleeding from the bullet he'd taken in his shoulder, but soon pulled herself together. With one hand pressed firmly over his wound, she refused to let herself be hauled onto the wagon, insisting she stay behind to tend to his injury. The captain had huffily agreed. A petulant woman was the last thing he needed; and it would keep the fort's physician in his rightful place, treating the handful of men in the infirmary and not having to see to an ungrateful savage. Each morning she was collected by a private and accompanied to the stockade. She would bathe Cam's wound and apply a fresh covering of a paste made of the medicinal herbs she'd kept with her since the village had split into two. Mrs. King gave her some cloth to make a fresh bandage each day. And so, in Kia's care, Cameahwait stayed infection-free and recovered well. After several days, however, the soldier stopped coming to Mrs. King's door and Kia's visits to Cameahwait came to an end. She was never told why.

The Kings and whichever soldier had been assigned to collect her each day were the only people Kia saw. That is, until one afternoon when a leathery -skinned man speaking her tongue knocked on the door and entreated Mrs. King to let him speak to her. After some hesitation, the young wife relented, and Bill Half-Foot was allowed to enter the premises. He spoke kindly to Kia, asking her what she knew of the men in the cells. She replied she only knew of one man, an important man in her village whose wound she had been tending. Bill complimented her on her obvious healing skills and then gently told her another man had been brought in, a white man dressed as a Ute. Wanekia's hand rose sharply to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock. She stood, thrusting Mimiteh into a mystified Mrs. King's arms, and stepped towards the door before realising she wasn't allowed to leave. She stayed rooted to the spot, turning between Bill and the door, unable to think straight, her mind consumed with thoughts of Liwanu.

It had taken the firm, but tender, grip of Bill's hands on her arms to bring her out of her daze. He led her back to her seat and pulled another chair closer to her. He didn't tell her about Adam's beatings. Instead he made her a promise. He swore on his old Paiute mother's grave that when he was able, he would take her to him. She had to trust that he would. Kia had flicked her dark eyes at his and seen something deep within the depths of his own which made her believe he would keep his promise. She had nodded, and as Bill left her alone with Mrs. King, Kia had burst into tears, burying her face in the seat's antimacassar.

It was only when they had returned to the safety and comfort of their mountain village that Kia shared her emotions about the day he had disappeared. To Adam it seemed she was busier than usual, attending to details and chores that were not vital. She was working herself into a state of exhaustion so that at night she would be too tired to talk. It was clear she was keeping busy on purpose and holding something back.

He had grabbed her wrist as she had been fussing in the lodge one night, and pulled her down to where he was lying on a bed of furs. She landed with a thump on her knees and slapped his shoulder as she tried to rise to her feet again. Adam stopped her, keeping a firm grip on her arm.

"Kia, tell me what troubles you."

She squirmed in his grasp but then sat back, her bottom resting on her heels. "Nothing troubles me." She looked towards their sleeping daughter who was lying on her back with one arm curled around her head.

Adam squeezed her hand. "Kia," he probed gently.

She sighed heavily but kept her eyes on their child. She deliberated for a few moments before speaking. "Our life was good. We were happy." She stroked a finger down her sleeping daughter's cheek. "And then Matwau came and everything changed." She turned back to Adam but couldn't meet his eyes. "That night you walked out of the lodge, but you didn't come back in. I called for you but you did not answer. I ran to every lodge, I ran to the trees, to the river, where the horses were." Her lips were twitching as she tried to fight the emotion stirring within her. "I looked everywhere, everywhere. But you were…you were gone." Her breath was hitching in her throat. "Liwanu, I was so scared. I thought you had grown tired of us and had walked away."

Adam sat up, his warm hands rubbing up and down her arms. "Kia, how could you think that of me?"

The words burst out of her. "I know, but we couldn't find you anywhere, there was no body. And I knew," she glared at him fiercely, roughly brushing unshed tears from her eyes, "I knew you weren't dead, I knew."

Adam folded his arms around her to pull her close but she fought against him. "And when I saw you at the fort…all my prayers to the bison, and my spirit guide, and the Great Spirit…they had heard me. They gave you back to me."

Adam dropped his arms, letting his hands softly circle her wrists. "Then why so troubled, my love?"

She dropped back to her heels and sighed. "You came back. But..." She sighed again. "Your family..."

It all made sense. Adam rose on to his knees and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as though he'd never let go. Her arms were trapped against his chest and he could feel the tips of her fingers gently touching the dark hairs no pure blood Indian possessed.

"They are my family. My father, my brothers. And I would never tell them to their faces but I love them so very dearly. But they don't give me what you give me. You are my other half, Kia." He pulled back to look into her face. "You are the reason my heart beats and why I breathe and why the blood runs through my veins. You are everything to me." He chuckled. "And I'm not going anywhere, at least, not without you and that little one."

An unshed tear lingered at the corner of her eye and then slowly tracked down her cheek. "I've been foolish," she said humbly.

"Yep," he replied, and got the reaction he had hoped for. She twisted one of the hairs on his chest, making him yelp, and then pushed him back on his furs. He grabbed her hand as she made to stand and she tumbled back down to her knees. But firmly she extracted her fingers from his and told him he needed to rest—"else who knows what hurt I will do to you." He had laughed and fallen back onto the furs to watch her bustle around the lodge. He had set her mind at rest, but Adam knew there were others who would not be so glad of the decision he had made.