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  "No, but my mother often cooked it for my father as it was his favorite meal." She told him. "I guess I was thinking of him when I prepared it. Does it please you?"

  Clay tasted it and was surprised, "This is good. But I never knew an Indian to cook such a thing."

  She nodded and smiled shyly at him. "I am pleased you like it. My mother taught me to cook things that my father had always liked. She was a wonderful cook, and all he had to do was tell her what he wanted, and once she tasted it from other white women, she'd cook it."

  "It sure is good, in fact, I've hired her as our cook and housekeeper." Charlie announced.

  Clay started to object but realized he might embarrass the lady, so he kept quiet. She fed the baby before she ate. The men watched her, and Charlie was warming up to the baby now.

  The baby was hungry, and he was eager for his milk. When he finished, he sighed heavily, and she laid him down on the blanket on the floor.

  "He eats like his stomach has been empty a while." Charlie chuckled.

  "Yes," Willa's face turned pale. "Food on the reservation is scarce. I am surprised I have enough milk for him." She explained not looking at either of them. "I hope you don’t mind; I found the carrots in what is left of your garden. It is planting time now, if you have the makings, I can plant for you. You have rich, black soil, it will yield a wonderful garden. But I will need seedlings. If I make a list can you get them for me?"

  Clay thought about that. This woman was a worker and his stomach growled with the first bite of dumplings, they were so tender and light. His stomach was winning the battle for her staying.

  "Well, I'm sure you'll fatten him up quickly now. I'll check to see what we got and what we don't have we can always get at the General store in town." Charlie told her as he touched the baby's chin. "Have you had a garden before?"

  "Oh yes, my mother taught me to grow a fine garden, as it would feed us all year if all the things, she planted were good. I have learned many things from white people too. Because I am a breed, I accept help and guidance from the white women I have met. I have found that learning from all is better than learning from only one. One lady whose husband traded with our tribe taught me to can vegetables so we could have them year-round."

  "That's very wise, to accept help from so many." Clay nodded.

  The baby smiled and when Charlie reached a finger at him, the baby took it into his mouth and sucked.

  "Would you look at that?" Charlie laughed.

  Clay couldn't help but smile too. He saw a sparkle in his father's eye that he hadn't seen for years. Willa and the baby might be good for his father. He'd become much happier and younger in a short span of time too. With Willa here, maybe his father wouldn't keep persisting about him getting married.

  What could they lose? It was a good bargain.

  "After dinner, we'll nap a while then bury your pa."

  She nodded. "My people have found that resting after a meal is good and they can work much longer with rest. They learned it from the Mexicans. They call it a siesta I believe."

  "That's right. For years white people made fun of their afternoon naps but then some of us began trying too, and it does make you fresh for the rest of the day." Charlie smiled.

  Still, Clay was distant and when he finished his meal he went outside. He had to look at the big picture. They had needed a cook for some time. His father's cooking was lacking, and he couldn't cook unless it was outside on a spit. Willa and the baby wouldn't be a problem, she didn't seem to mind hard work either as she cleaned up the kitchen when they finished without asking. Perhaps it was he that was being stubborn here. Why fight a good thing.

  Oh, he wasn't blind, there would be trouble. But trouble was something he and his father had put up with for a long time. They weren't the most popular people in town, considered too rough around the edges for most townsfolk.

  Charlie helped Willa do the dishes and she put the baby to bed. Clay watched them work together. Then he began to see the big picture. They could help Willa and her child, in return they'd have decent meals, a clean house and some help around the place. He'd selfishly been looking at it like she was a woman, and he was a man and his father was matchmaking. But he was the one being selfish. Willa fit in here better than any woman he'd known except his mother.

  She was grateful to his father and she didn't hesitate to clean the place either. The only thing she really feared was being in the way or causing them trouble.

  But the joy his father seemed to get from Willa and the child was worth everything to Clay. How could a woman and a baby make such a difference?

  "If you need to lie down, I'll move him." She told Charlie.

  "If I do, I'll sleep with him." Charlie chuckled, "You see, I'm not afraid of babies. What's his name?"

  "My mother named him; it is Elan."

  "Elan, well, that's a nice sounding name, what does it mean?" Charlie asked.

  "Friendly."

  "Friendly?" Charlie chuckled, "Well now, that fits him good."

  "Yes, not long after he was born, he began grabbing anyone's finger that was close and sucking on it." She smiled.

  "Did you love his father?" Charlie asked out of the blue.

  "No," she shook her head, her face mirroring her feelings, and Charlie looked at her with surprise.

  She tried to explain. "I tried, but it just didn't happen. You see, I was forced to marry. Elan's father was a harsh warrior, he didn't like white people. He hated them in fact. He didn't like my father. I am a breed and I have learned that people are people, no matter the color of their skin. He had other wives too, and I was a breed, so not considered an equal by him or his squaws."

  "Then, his dying didn't bother you too much?" Charlie asked.

  "No, he was a forceful man, and he wanted many wives, and many children. I did not believe that a good thing, either. But old ways die hard with Indians. And the custom to take a warrior's wife when the warrior dies was still practiced. I guess, the white side of me rebelled against the Indian side."

  Charlie chuckled, "Well, no one will force you here."

  "But your son does not welcome me." She blurted.

  "He'll get used to you." Charlie assured her. "Give him a little time. He hasn't been around enough women to know how to act. And I guess that's my fault. He's been a bachelor too long."

  Chapter Four

  Later, when Charlie laid down beside the baby, she went outside, to visit her father. She realized he'd be buried here, and she wouldn't want to leave him. Truth be known that was the real reason she agreed to stay. He had bravely come to rescue her from her tribe, and she admired him for that. Her mother had told her many stories of her father, and she had ached to meet him. When he came on the run, at the news of her mother's death, she felt proud. She had not expected him to come. The fact that he did, made her love him even more, for he wasn't welcome at the reservation.

  A tear slipped down her cheek now, she so wished she had gotten to know him better. "I will miss you father; I only wish you'd have lived longer."

  "I guess it's hard to leave someone you love in an unfamiliar place." Clay said as he stood just a few feet away, watching her.

  She stared at the ground. "If you mean my husband, I did not get to know him well. We were married a little over a year, and I got pregnant quickly. Nor did I know my father, I'm afraid. But I was so proud when he came to get me. The baby did not deter him. He fought for the right to take me with him. He was very brave." She said softly. "My mother," she turned to look at Clay now, "told me stories of how he searched for gold, and how he went west without fear. I was very proud of him. She loved him dearly. Even though he wasn't with us much of the time, her love never vanished. So, I know he was a good man."

  "He seemed like a decent kind of man." Clay reflected.

  She glanced shyly at him, "My mother said he had the gift of laughter in him. She said a man that can make you laugh is a dear one to hold to your heart."

  "Yeah, my dad's a lot
like that." Clay nodded.

  "Yes, I see that in him. He is a good man."

  "Look, if you want to stay, it's…. alright with me." He said very softly. "I didn't mean to offend you; it's just we haven't had a woman out here before."

  "Is it that I am a woman, or a breed?" she asked just as softly.

  Clay stared for a moment. "You being a breed doesn't bother me or my father. We just haven't had a woman around. I guess you could say we've been bachelors too long."

  A slight smile curved her lips and softened her features.

  "Do you mean that?" She came closer and boldly stared into his face.

  He pulled her by the arms and stared into her soft brown eyes, "Yes, I do. I'm sorry if I was rough about it, but you see, it's always just been my father and me, after my mother died. But the truth is, we do need a cook, and you need some support, so maybe we can help each other."

  "It is kind of you." She said, then looking at his hands on her arms, she backed away. "The baby will not be a bother to you. I will see to that."

  "I'm not worried about the baby. I see you take care of him well." Clay smiled. "He doesn't cry much, does he?"

  "Thank you, then we will stay… for a while. And no, he is a happy baby, much like my father was." She said. "You are right, it is hard to leave someone you love in a strange place." She glanced at her father's body. "I did not have time to get to know him well, but I loved him all my life, through my mother's words. They loved each other no matter the distance between them."

  "We didn't think to ask, but should we bury him Indian style?" Clay asked suddenly letting her go.

  "No, he was white, he should be buried like a white man."

  Clay nodded. "How long ago did your mother die?"

  "Last winter. It was very hard on our tribe, as we were fighting going to the reservation. The chief knew there would be little food and shelter there. He'd been before, and he swore never to return. But the blue coats had other ideas. They moved us often and it took a while for my father to find us. Now I understand why my tribe did not want to go. They do not provide things we need, like enough blankets, food. It was very hard there, and many died. I do not think it was the weather, the blankets or the lack of food, I think their spirits died in captivity. My tribe was a traveling tribe. We wandered over the prairies finding food and shelter, to be cooped up in one place, was like prison. My father was the same, he had no home, but we had plans to make one."

  "It's a lot of work to move from one place to another."

  "Yes, it is, but sometimes it is very worth it, especially when the land will produce its own foods and the water is not polluted. We have seen on the wagon trains how the water is bad because of so many people and do not think to keep the water away from the waste. It creates a sickness."

  "Yeah," He studied her a moment. "You're very intelligent." He noted.

  "Education can be more than learning to read. I cannot read, nor write, but I can do sums, I know nature and I have learned about many different people in our travels. You see we came from the high country. We warred with many before settling close to the Red River."

  "I see, well your welcome to stay. You make my father happy, you and Elan."

  "Happy?"

  "Yeah, when he wanted me to marry, I never realized it was because he wanted children around the place so badly. His eyes sparkle with life now, something I haven't seen in a very long time. It gives me pleasure to see it in his eyes."

  "Thank you. And I am glad." She looked at him, staring at him, her eyes going over him for a moment with interest. "You love him very much, don't you?"

  "Yeah, I guess I do." Clay smiled a bit wistful. "My Ma died some time ago, so it's just been me and him for a lot of years."

  "Then I will stay for a while, as long as I bring no trouble upon you. Again, thank you for your kindness."

  Just then a wagon pulled up and a beautiful blond-haired woman jumped down into Clay's arms. She seemed to stare at Clay with questions in her eyes. "Laura, didn't expect to see you today."

  Laura glanced at Willa quickly, "Yes, I can see that. I brought you some food." She said turning back to the wagon. She looked into his eyes with a question.

  "Well now, I guess I should tell you, we've hired a cook and housekeeper. This is Willa Turner. Willa this Laura Hinton." Clay walked her over to the Indian girl.

  "Willa, well, this is a surprise." Laura's glance slid over Willa quickly, noting the buckskin dress she wore, with the slits up the side, her long black braid, but nothing shocked her more when she heard a baby crying.

  "Yeah, it all happened kind of fast." Clay chuckled.

  Laura walked inside and Willa ran to get her baby. She spread a blanket on the floor and put a couple of things the baby could chew on within reach of his chubby hands.

  "A baby?" Laura's face was a mask of emotions, none of them friendly.

  Charlie saw Laura and got up. "Yes, his name is Elan, that means friendly." Charlie chuckled.

  "Really, well, when did all of this happen?" Laura asked not hiding her curiosity and her eyes kept drifting back to Willa with obvious dismay.

  "Yesterday," Clay told her.

  "Yesterday," Laura's eyes widened. Anyone could see she was shocked by the woman and baby.

  "Yes, we had a little skirmish here yesterday and Willa's father died." Clay informed her. "We are about to bury him out by Ma."

  "You are going to put him by your mother? I mean, good grief, an Indian by your mother?" Laura exclaimed loudly.

  "He wasn't Indian," Charlie spoke up quickly. "But it wouldn't matter if he was. He was a person Laura, and he fought to live just like we did."

  Again, Laura's eyes seemed to travel from her, to the baby to Clay. "Then… she's a breed?"

  Clay's brows narrowed on Laura. "She's a woman, Laura. That's all. We've been dealing with Indians for years. Now there is peace, and after all the deaths it's time to go on with life. Hate only brews hate."

  "Really? You didn't have relatives that were killed by them or you wouldn't be so easy to accept them." Laura's eyes festered on Willa now. "And the baby?"

  It was a question, as though it might belong to Clay, and for a moment, Clay seemed amused that she would draw such a conclusion.

  "Is her son." Charlie concluded with a slight frown.

  Laura stood up, "Well, I can see she has things under control, I must go now."

  "So soon, you just got here. I thought maybe you'd like to get to know Willa, since she's gonna be here now."

  Clay was antagonizing her, and he could tell he succeeded by the huge frown on Laura's face.

  "Another time perhaps," she shot Willa an

  arrogant brow and walked out of the house. She didn't speak directly to Willa and Willa understood the hate she saw in her eyes. She had seen it many times with her tribe.

  Charlie followed her out, "Thanks for stopping by."

  Laura looked down at him, for Charlie wasn't a big man. "You know everyone in town will know about this. They'll talk."

  "So?" Charlie challenged.

  "No decent white man would hire an Indian to cook for them. Is that baby Clay's?" She asked with pure venom.

  Charlie frowned up at her, shaking his head. "I don't believe you Laura. You know, I was just talking to Clay about you the other day. I thought maybe the two of you would hook up, but now, I see that will never happen, Laura, and I see why. Good day."

  Laura's brows drew together. "You never answered, so I suppose that's his child too! I have every right to hate Indians, Charlie. My mother was killed by one, if you remember. I will have nothing to do with them, and I cannot forgive them."

  "All Indians didn't kill your mother. Just one. And it's time to put the hate away Laura. Forgiveness doesn't help them, it helps you. I'm sorry you still feel such animosity toward them Laura. It's been a long time now." Charlie stared her in the eye, "But as far as Clay is concerned. I never thought it was a question needing an answer. And if the tongues wag in town, I'
ll know who's responsible for it. But just for your information, Clay never laid eyes on that woman before yesterday."

  "I'll just bet he hasn't!" she whipped her horses out of the yard.

  He watched her whip the horse several times and shook his head. "Boy, was I ever wrong about her."

  Chapter Five

  Standing inside the house, Willa looked at Clay, who was staring out at the prairie. It wasn't often she got the chance to look at him without him seeing her.

  Clay was a handsome man, probably in his late twenties, with long burnished red hair and dark blue eyes. He was built well, with strong shoulders, a tapering waist and lean hips, long legs and he had a stubborn set to his chin, she decided. If truth were told, she was drawn to him, but she could never voice that attraction, it would not be right. These men had been good to her and she appreciated it, but she had no right looking at Clay like this. Still, living here, she had some purpose and a chance for her child to learn, for that reason she would stay. She wanted that chance as that was what her father died for. The fact that he would be buried here was another reason for staying.

  "I did not mean to bring you trouble."

  "No trouble Willa." He glanced at her over his shoulder.

  "I think there will be. That woman loves you and thinks the wrong things of me. I am sorry for her. I will leave if you like. I only ask that you see to my father's grave."

  "No need to leave either. People will make up their own minds," He glanced at her and sent her an understanding smile, "and you'll just have to get use to that. Look, it won't matter where you go, it would be the same. It takes a long time for some to learn how to forgive. The Indians killed Laura's mother. I think something died inside her when that happened as she has nursed a bitterness that won't go away. Many people have."

  "Yes, I have seen this in my people too."

  "And Laura doesn't know the meaning of love. If she loves anyone, it's herself. You are welcome here, and as my father says, we need you."

  "Then I will stay. It may sound strange to you, but I wish to be near where my father is buried. I may never see my mother's place again, but at least I am close to him now. Still, I wanted to know for sure that you are sure about this."