Before she could answer, a flash of movement in the trees upriver caught her focus. A deer?
The animal stepped from the brush toward the water, its ears flicking all directions for a threat.
Faith pressed a finger to her lips and pointed past Grant for him to look.
In a second, he’d raised his rifle and aimed. As much as she hated this part, they needed the meat. Their stores were running too low.
Faith turned away, preparing for the blast of the gun.
As Faith stepped into the cave an hour later, she raised her voice to signal her presence. “I’ve returned.” The last thing she wanted was for White Horse to think her an intruder. The yawning darkness ahead swallowed her words, especially with the muffled pounding of the falls behind her.
When she rounded the curve in the corridor, the light of the campfire appeared ahead, and the noise of the water faded to a muffled hum. White Horse was helping his mother settle on the fur that had been her seat the day before.
Faith held up the bundle in her hands. “Grant got a deer. I’ve brought some of the hind meat, and he’ll bring the rest when he’s finished dressing it.”
“Here.” Steps Right motioned to the place beside her where she prepared food. “Make pemmican.” She turned to her son and spoke a string of directions in Peigan.
White Horse moved to his packs, probably to retrieve supplies.
Faith crouched beside the woman and laid the meat on the work surface. Steps Right took up her knife as White Horse brought a pouch of dried berries.
Steps Right motioned toward the stone floor beneath Faith. “Sit. Help.”
Comfortable silence settled around them while Steps Right began slicing the meat. Her gnarled fingers seemed to struggle with the task, though. There was no need for her to be uncomfortable when Faith sat idle.
“I can do that.” Faith shifted forward again.
Steps Right studied her for a moment, then nodded and handed over the knife. “Cut thin. Then dry. Make powder. Add berries. Eat all winter.” Faith nodded as she took over the task. White Horse said this food could last for months without spoiling.
As she sliced, her mind wandered to how many times the woman might have made pemmican in her life. Had she learned as a young girl, working with her mother and grandmother? Steps Right’s knowledge and skills were a testament to her life and experiences, a legacy of survival and resilience.
The work was methodical—an easy way to lose track of time. The cave, once a place of mystery and uncertainty, now felt like a sanctuary, a place where she was learning not just how to make pemmican but also gaining a deeper understanding of Steps Right and her way of life.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the cave. That was Grant’s stride. White Horse and Steps Right must have recognized it too, for neither looked worried about a stranger’s approach. He stepped into the firelight, his arms laden with the rest of the deer meat.
“There.” Steps Right motioned to where he should place his load. Then she pointed to his spot by the fire. “Sit.”
Grant glanced at Faith with raised brows, but she only smiled at him. Steps Right possessed a straightforward manner, but it was refreshing now that she was growing accustomed to it.
As Grant settled on the stone, White Horse rose and strode toward the cave opening. He didn’t say where he was going, and Faith almost called out to ask. If he’d wanted her to know, though, he would have said. Finding his mother and learning the truth of her situation might have unsettled him as much as it had Faith.
The fire crackled softly, casting shadows on the cave walls as Steps Right positioned the meat Grant had just brought and Faith began slicing it too.
The older woman broke the silence as she looked at Grant. “Who teach to hunt?” She regarded him as she waited for his answer.
Grant stared at her for a moment. Was he not sure what she meant? But then he spoke. “My father taught me when I was young.”
A pang pressed in Faith’s chest. No wonder he’d hesitated. Were those good memories? He’d been ten when his parents died, so he couldn’t have had much time to learn the skill.
Steps Right nodded and continued to study him. Did she realize the question had probably raised a host of tangled emotions?
A twinkle slipped into her eyes. “My son hunt when young boy. Want father to teach. First hunt, find deer. Walk.” Shespread her arms wide and mimicked the motion of creeping quietly through the grass. “Ready shoot.” She pretended to draw back on a bow. Then she squeezed her eyes shut like she was about to sneeze. “Achoo!” She opened her eyes and grinned. “Deer run. Hunt no good.”
Faith chuckled, and even Grant smiled. It wasn’t hard to imagine a young White Horse, disappointed and embarrassed by an untimely sneeze. She’d have to tease him about it when she had the chance.
Steps Right smiled in the memory for a long moment, then turned back to Grant. “Why come?” She motioned around them. She probably didn’t mean to ask why he’d come to the cave. Maybe why he’d come to this land, so distant from the States?
He raised his brows. “Why did I come west? To this mountain country?”
