He turned, and maybe he motioned them forward, though it was hard to tell in the semidarkness. “Come.”
A thrill slipped through her, and she gripped Grant tighter as they walked toward the light. She moved with careful steps, but the crunch of small rocks beneath her shoes sounded loud in the muffled hush of the cave. The faint glow of the campfire flickered against the rough-hewn walls, casting shadows that seemed to come alive the closer they approached.
White Horse moved with certainty, his familiar silhouette a reassuring presence in the strange surroundings. As they approached the fire, her gaze finally found the small woman sitting on the far side. The flames lit her face, shadows deepening the lines carved by her years. Her eyes took them in with a quiet curiosity as they approached.
Steps Right.
They’d finally found her. A knot of emotion clogged Faith’s throat.
White Horse moved to stand beside the woman, and his voice held a richness that reverberated through Faith’s chest. “My mother. Steps Right.”
He turned and spoke to her in the Peigan tongue, slowing as he pronounced Faith’s and Grant’s names.
Steps Right studied her son as he spoke, then turned again to scan Faith and Grant.
Now was the time. But what should she say to this woman she’d searched for for so long? She should have planned her words, but she didn’t have that option now. Maybe best to start by explaining who she was.
Faith took a step forward, her heart rushing once more. “Steps Right. I am so honored to meet you. I’m the daughter of a man you once helped. My father is—was—Martin Collins. You found him injured on the plain and stayed with him, caring for him until help could come.”
Maybe she should wait to give her the necklace until they’d visited for a while. Make a real ceremony of it.
For now, she could tell Steps Right what her kindness had meant to Papa. To them all. “He was always grateful for you. We all are. He told us the story many times about how you saved his life.”
Steps Right watched her face while she spoke, and even after. Had she understood her words? White Horse had said his mother spoke English. In truth, she’d become so accustomed to White Horse’s abilities with the language, she’d not thought about choosing easier words for his mother. If he was concerned his mother might not comprehend what she’d said, he would translate for her.
But then Steps Right nodded. “I remember I find your father.” Her voice quavered, but it also held a strength that made Faith want to settle in and listen. “Many winters past, on hunting ground. Find white man hurt. Sun near to sleep. He would not live in cold and dark. My sister get help. I make fire. Keep white man live until sun wake. Tell stories.”
A knot formed in Faith’s throat. She remembered the things Papa had told her. The stories. A warm tingle spread through her. This was why Faith had worked so hard, to hear these memories.
The old woman paused, her gaze distant as she journeyed back in time. “His woman and hisookonaa.” She looked to White Horse and squinted, maybe trying to think of the English word.
White Horse murmured something Faith couldn’t make out.
Steps Right nodded, then turned back to Faith. “Daughters. Two daughters. He tell of ride horses. Sing. Happy.” Her eyes glistened with a smile. “Love woman. Love daughters.”
Faith’s eyes stung. The two daughters had been Rosemary and Juniper. She and Lorelei hadn’t been born yet. She’d known that. But this stark reminder that he’d only spoken of his love for his two eldest stung, no matter how ridiculousthe feeling. If she and Lor had been alive then, he would have told stories about them too, surely.
A moment of silence passed before Steps Right continued. “Tell of babe to come. He want to see. Love.” She pressed a fist over her heart. “Love babe to come. Not yet born.”
Lorelei. Mama must have told him she was with child before he left.
Steps Right’s gaze refocused, meeting Faith’s again. “Is you?”
Another rush of emotion slammed into her, pressing her chest and searing her eyes and nose. She shook her head. “My sister Lorelei.” The words came out a hoarse whisper. She’d been the only one not mentioned.
She was being petty and unreasonable. Her father hadn’t spoken of her because he’d had no knowledge he would have a fourth daughter. She’d always hated being the baby, but this had to be the worst of all outcomes.
White Horse spoke to his mother in their tongue, his voice low and rhythmic and far too quick for her to understand. He’d taught them a few words in his language, but she could catch nothing now. Not even while watching their expressions.
Steps Right looked earnest as she answered, but that could mean any number of things.
Grant took a quiet step to stand beside her, as though he understood this insecurity that unsteadied her. His presence was a solid, comforting force, a rock in the midst of these whirling emotions. She allowed her upper arm to lean against his, drawing strength from his support.
Finally, White Horse turned back to them, his face serious. The firelight lit his cheek, casting his dark eyes inshadows. “My mother hides.” He paused, his jaw hardening. “Hides from Flies Ahead. Grandson of chief.”
Faith frowned at his words. They had met Flies Ahead and his grandfather, Son of Owl, back when she and her sisters first came west to the rendezvous and Riley helped them search for Steps Right. Neither Flies Ahead nor his grandfather had been helpful in their search, and the younger man had seemed especially untrusting. And untrustworthy.
White Horse shifted, and the firelight showed a flash of anger in his eyes. “Send warriors to find her three times.” He held up as many fingers.
