He kicked a pecan. “Mighty lonely sitting on a piece of dirt all by yourself, but that’d be better than sitting on it a lifetimewith someone you don’t care for.” He turned as if he would leave.
Moisture sprang to her eyes. She grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t go.”
He glanced at her hand.
Cheeks aflame, she withdrew her touch. Why couldn’t she do anything right?
“Maybe we should talk about something else.” He offered his arm to her.
She slipped her fingers around his elbow. Why couldn’t she have the landandthe man she wanted? The rules didn’t say it had to be Moyer. She gazed at the sky. “What do you know about stars?”
His arm relaxed beneath her hold. “I used to study them as a boy.” His voice took on a whimsical note. “When I was seven, my pa acquired a piece of land just west of Dallas. Barely inside the settlement line at the time. I had a friend, more like an uncle. He was Kiowa. Worked for my pa. Taught me how to hunt and track, how to go through the woods without a sound. He was better than kin. But you probably know as much as I do about the stars.”
“I do not. I used to love to lie out on the grass outside the tipi on hot summer nights and study them, but I know nothing of whatyoucall them.”
He pointed overhead. “I’m sure you know the North Star. Part of the Little Dipper.”
She nodded.
“And then the Big Dipper closer to the horizon. And you see those three there.” He leaned closer. The folds of her skirt lapped against his trouser leg. “That’s Orion’s belt.”
Who was Orion? She didn’t care.
He stopped talking as they gazed heavenward, his breathing punctuating the darkness. “Would you like to sit?” He nodded to the low stone wall next to an ancient oak, its weatheredtrunk witness to the days when no white foot had touched the soil above its roots.
“Yes.” Her heart thudded.
He guided her to the wall, but she pushed herself up on it before he could assist. Cool stone met her palms as she gathered her skirts beneath her. He settled down beside her and removed his slouch hat. A canopy of leaves sheltered them from prying eyes on the porch.
Across the fields, a cow mooed. Such a minor creature compared to a buffalo, the lifeblood of her people. Her people? Where did she really belong in this vast universe?
“Tell me about your Kiowa friend. What was his name?” She leaned her head against the tree, mere inches from his.
“Sate.Bearin English.” His voice wrapped around her like a blanket as he told her of his childhood adventures—treeing a coon, his first deer, a narrow escape from a bear, the anticipation of his first buffalo hunt…
“You never got to go?”
“No.” He exhaled. “Things changed.”
How? Why? His father’s death? She pressed her lips together.
He shifted his weight on the wall. “Enough about me.”
His next words might be that it was time to go in. She wasn’t about to let that happen. “Maybe you can take me hunting sometime.”
“Hunting?”
“Yes.” She kicked her feet from beneath her skirt. “I’m tired of wrenching my feet into these hard-soled traps. I’d love to have a pair of moccasins.”
“That would go over well with your uncle.”
“I don’t care. Besides, how much attention does he pay to what’s on my feet?”
“I could hunt and bring you back a hide.”
“No. I want to go.” She snuggled closer to his arm. “I’mpretty good at it, at least with a bow and arrow. And it’d give me a chance to get away from Sweet Briar. To be free?—”
“Can’t have you running off.” His tone took on a hint of a scold.
