Two Stones stared into the fire, the look in his eyes almost tender. "It is a small town. Set near the creek between two mountains. We have lived in this place five winters, and there is still good hunting. God has blessed my people with peace and plenty."
She studied him a moment, tipping her head just enough to see him. He didn't look her way. Maybe he'd told her of his village's current location because he thought she would want to know where they were going. But that wasn't what she'd asked.
And he needed to know she wouldn't be pacified or pushed aside when she asked a question. Not anymore. "You paint a lovely picture with your words." At least, she hoped so. "But if you've lived in that valley for five years, where did you camp before that? Where did you grow up?"
He slid a look her way. It didn't seem to hold annoyance, but not humor either. He focused on the fire again. "We moved nearly every year. Always searching. Sometimes the game would leave us. Sometimes the snows would be too heavy, our people dying from the cold, even with the animal skins. The Blackfoot and Gros Ventre, they pushed us from the good camps. From the places of shelter and plenty."
He paused, as though he was back in that time, staring at a memory that darkened his mood, even years later. Would he share it? Should she prompt him? As much as she wanted to prove she was strong and capable and not willing to cower to a man, she wasn't sure she had the courage to push if he didn't offer the story on his own.
"When I was eight winters old,” he said after a long pause, “I went with my cousin to gather wood around the mountain. The snow began to fall heavily, so fast that I lost my way. I could not find my cousin, no matter how I called and searched."
Heidi's chest clenched as she waited for his next words. What awful thing had happened to him at such a tender age? From the tension in his voice, it must have been bad.
"I found shelter in the cleft of the rock that night and the next. The snow stopped, and I was hungry and feared for my cousin."
"And for yourself, no doubt." She hadn't meant to speak, but the story drew her in so, the words slipped out.
The tension in his eyes eased a little as he glanced at her. "A warrior is taught not to say so. But yes, I was afraid I would not ever find my way."
His gaze moved forward again. "For two more sleeps, I wandered through the mountains. I thought I would die there." He paused, eyes clouding with the memory.
She couldn't hold in her prompting this time. "What happened?"
"I met a boy on horseback. A few winters older than me. I was so hungry, I followed him. He took me to the cabin where he lived with his mother and father and brother. Though we could not understand each other at first, they took me in and cared for me."
Two Stones's brow furrowed. "I stayed with them, learning some of their language. They gave me food and were kind."
Heidi's heart ached for the lost little boy. "You must still have been afraid and missing your family. Did you try to escape?"
Again he was silent for long enough she wasn't sure he would answer. "I knew what it was to wander lost and hungry and cold."
So he'd been too nervous to leave. "How long did you live with them?"
The knot at his throat worked, as though he was struggling to voice his answer. "After one moon passed, they thought I would always be with them. They cut my hair. Made a mattress that was my own. Two more moons passed before the snow melted in the valley."
She barely kept herself from asking if he'd tried to leave at that point. He would tell her. She had to give him time.
As though he could hear her thoughts, he spoke again. "My uncle found me when I was with the older son, hunting. He told me to come with him, and would not let me tell the boy that I was returning home."
Something in his tone wrapped a longing around her. The white family had taken him in and helped him when he'd nearly died. Taken him almost as their own, it sounded like. But how relieved he must have felt to be reunited with his own family.
Did he worry what his white friends thought of his sudden leaving, without a word of farewell or thanks? She allowed herself to turn to him fully, so he would feel her studying him. "Did you ever see them again?"
He shook his head. "My mother would not let me leave sight of our camp until we moved to a different valley. She mourned the cutting of my hair. Mourned that I had been changed to a white man."
She fought to keep from stiffening. "Because you'd spent a few months with a white family? That didn't change who you are inside."
The slight lifting at the corners of his mouth showed no sign of a true smile. And her heart ached all the more. To be torn between two worlds at such a young age…
As she looked at him now, she could see the echoes of that lost boy still in him. A glimpse into the kind yet conflicted man before her.
"Did your mother keep you away from white people after that?" She asked the question gently.
He shook his head. "There were too many, and the English I'd learned helped my people in trading. Everyone in our village called for me when they needed an interpreter."
She tipped her head. "Is that how you learned trading so well? That's what you do now, right? Find unique items for people, like specialty trading?"
A glimmer of a smile touched his eyes as he looked at her. "Something like that. I met many people when I interpreted. Most are not still here, but I do think that is where I learned to read men’s intentions. To know where I could find the unusual things I am asked to search for."
