Chapter 15

Faith squinted through the cascade to see if White Horse had stepped behind the falling water. He must have. There was no other place where he could have disappeared to.

"White Horse?" Grant's deep voice barely rose above the roar of the falls.

Her heart surged a little faster, her skin prickling. Something was wrong.

Grant raised a hand for her to stay, then pulled his arm from her hold and started forward. If he thought she would wait here while he found White Horse—and possibly Steps Right—he was quite mistaken.

The mist had soaked through her clothes, and the shade of the cliff cooled the air enough to send a shiver through her as she followed him. When Grant reached the place where the falling water met the cliff bank, he glanced back at her with a frown.

She was only a step behind, and she raised her brows to smile at him. He must have realized trying to keep her back was a hopeless cause, for he turned again to the falls and pointed to something she couldn't yet see.

She moved to his side, gripping his arm for balance, then sucked in a breath as she caught sight of what he had. A flat stone ledge ran behind the water. A bit of packed mud had been pressed flat in one spot. Someone had walked through here. Many times.

She grinned at Grant, and he met her look. The sparkle in his eyes showed he felt the same way she did. This might finally be the place where they would find Steps Right.

He shifted his arm so he could take her hand, wrapping it tightly in his as he moved toward the narrow path. They slipped under the thin curtain at the edge of the falling water, and she blinked to clear the droplets from her lashes. Behind the falls was much dimmer than outside, and this ledge was barely wide enough for her feet to stand side by side.

The path widened as they advanced toward the middle of the falls, but in the shadows, she couldn't tell if there was a cave or not. Grant's grip on her hand tightened, and she peered around him to better see what he saw. "What is it?"

He probably didn't hear her, for he stepped forward again, pulling her to the widest part of the path. There, just beyond the mist, loomed a dark opening in the rock.

Her heart hammered as Grant released her hand and drew the pistol from his waistband. She should have thought to bring her rifle. Was White Horse already in there? Had he found his mother?

Her hand crept up to the leather strap at her neck. She'd hung the pouch that held the bead necklace on a leather strap around her neck, then tucked it under her shirt. Should she give the gift to Steps Right immediately? Or wait until they'd spoken with the woman, maybe in a special ceremony after they shared a meal?

First, they had to find her. Then maybe she'd know the next step.

They paused at the cave entrance, but inside was thick darkness. It didn't seem to bother Grant, for he stepped forward, pulling her with him. The air smelled dank and musty, but also held a faint scent of herbs.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could identify the outline of Grant's broad shoulders. She followed close behind, still gripping his hand as he moved deeper into the cave. The scent of herbs mingled with the dank smell of the cave, and a faint glow appeared in the distance.

A campfire?

"Hello?" Grant's voice echoed through the cave. "White Horse?"

A figure appeared in the dim light ahead, though she could barely make out the shape of a person.

"I am here."

Her tension eased at White Horse's familiar voice, and she stepped forward around Grant. "Have you found her?"

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 his ookonaa." 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 ridiculous the 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 in shadows. "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.

The revelation hung heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in. They'd known Steps Right had been forced to leave her village—the home and friends she'd lived with her entire life—when one of her patients had died, despite her care. That patient had been Flies Ahead's father, the man who would have become chief when his father, Son of Owl, died. Apparently, Flies Ahead hadn't been satisfied with the punishment of sending an old woman out into the wilderness by herself. He'd decided to hunt her down too.

Faith studied White Horse as that thought settled in a different way. "Why would he search for her? He was the one who sent her away."

"His grandfather make her leave." White Horse was doing a remarkable job holding back his anger, though it sounded in his voice. "Flies Ahead gone when happen. Go to mountains to..." He searched for the word he wanted and found it quickly. "Grieve. For father no more."

The situation was becoming far clearer, and her own belly churned with anger too. "So Flies Ahead returned from his time of mourning and found that the woman he wanted vengeance from had been sent away."

White Horse didn't answer, though the anger simmering in him tightened the air around them.

She couldn't blame him. His mother had been living in fear, hiding in caves from a danger that he knew nothing about. She hadn't even turned to her son for help like White Horse had been certain she would. He worked so hard to protect those he deemed friends. Learning this must bring both grief and anger.

The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the heavy silence. Would White Horse go back to his old village? Would he confront Flies Ahead? Fight him?

As if Steps Right was thinking the same thing, she spoke to him in Peigan, her gaze intense. She seemed to be instructing, or maybe trying to convince him of something.

White Horse answered in the same terse tone as before. Then silence reigned once again.

Faith had more questions, though she wondered if it would stir his anger more to voice them. If she didn't ask now, she might not have another chance. "How did Flies Ahead know where you went? Did he find you, or did you see him before he found you?"

Steps Right's eyes reflected the firelight. "Not find me. Warriors come. I see. I move. Not find me."

She must have decided they'd spoken enough of her plight, for she motioned to the ground around the fire. "Sit. Eat." She reached for a wooden bowl placed close to the fire. White Horse sometimes used the same kind of dish to cook with in his lodge.

They moved to sit by the fire, with Faith settling between Grant and White Horse. Grant had been quiet through the conversation, maybe thinking he was an outsider when it came to what they'd been discussing.

She glanced over at him. She wanted him to be a part of this. He'd been by her side through nearly this entire journey, after all.

The fire illuminated his face and the wet shirt that clung to his shoulders and chest, outlining the strength there. Her own damp clothing held a chill that made the fire's warmth a welcome relief.

As Steps Right passed dishes of stew, a rich aroma rose above the scent of the campfire. Faith lifted her bowl and held it in front of her mouth as she breathed in. "This smells wonderful."

Steps Right smiled, more with her eyes than her mouth. But her pleasure was impossible to miss.

As Faith took her first sip of broth, the savory flavor was unlike anything she'd tasted. A symphony of tastes, a testament to Steps Right's skill with herbs and spices.

While they ate, White Horse and Steps Right spoke in their language. Faith couldn't understand the words, but she caught the shift of concern on White Horse's face. He seemed to ask a few more questions, then turned to Faith and Grant. "My mother is hurt." He pointed to her ankle. "Hard to walk."

Concern pressed in Faith's chest, and she turned to Steps Right. "What happened? What can we do to help you?" Yet Steps Right was the healer among them. Was there anything more that she'd not been able to do on her own?

The older woman shook her head. "I fall. Need sit. Heal."

Maybe a sprained ankle, then. Faith studied the woman's foot, but the way she had it positioned, her buckskin dress covered most of the appendage.

She looked back up at Steps Right. "We'll make sure you get all the rest you need. If there's anything you want, just ask one of us."

Steps Right returned a kind look but didn't seem to want to say more.

White Horse spoke up, though. "We take my mother back to the ranch. Soon."

She met his gaze. He likely wanted to get her to a safe place, away from Flies Ahead. At the ranch, Steps Right could rest, and Faith and her sisters could help her. "When do you want to leave? Tomorrow?" That felt too soon, though. Grant hadn't found his brother.

White Horse shook his head. "Rest tomorrow. Then leave."

The day after tomorrow, then. She slid a quick look to Grant, but his expression was hard to read.

She reached for the used dishes and stacked them. "I'll take these to the water for washing." She needed a few minutes alone to think about this deluge of new information and churning emotions.

"I'll get the horses settled where they can graze." Grant pushed to his feet.

She straightened. "I forgot about the horses. I'll help you first, then wash the dishes." White Horse would likely want time alone with his mother anyway.

They made their way back to the cave's entrance, and she followed Grant along the narrow path behind the waterfall. When they stepped out from behind the curtain of water, the sun's heat pressed down in stark contrast to the cool dampness of the cave. She placed the dishes beside the water, then followed him up the slope to the horses.

The horses grazed quietly on the rocky hillside, still wearing their saddles and packs. She stayed at Grant's side as he approached his mount first. While he rubbed the gelding's head, she stroked the sweat-dampened shoulder, eyeing Grant.

His expression looked troubled, and he surely realized she wanted to talk with him. At last, he looked her way, and she took the opportunity.

"If we start back the day after tomorrow, what will you do?"

He continued stroking the flat part of the gelding's head, but the wrestling in Grant's spirit clouded his gaze. "I guess I'll ride with you to your ranch. See that Steps Right gets there safely. Then I'll start looking for Will again."

Her own spirit twisted, conflicted. Grant would see the ranch. Meet her sisters. She wouldn't have to say good-bye to him so soon. But he would have to delay his own search. And then he would be all alone in this wilderness.

Two Bit gave a soft nicker, calling her over to him. For now, she could let Grant's words stand. Maybe a better way would become clear.

She approached Two Bit and rubbed his head while he snuffled her hand. "Sorry, boy. So much has happened, I couldn't come back to you right away."

She rubbed his neck and stared out at the flowing river where it gathered speed to cascade over the falls. The mountains rose beyond, majestic yet treacherous.

She had achieved what she and her sisters set out to do more than three years before. She'd accomplished what Papa asked. But the longing inside her hadn't eased.

Was it simply the fact that Papa hadn't been able to speak of Faith to Steps Right all those years ago that bothered her so much? That was too silly to be the real reason, but maybe it was a symptom of her deeper problem. Her mind felt too muddled just now to figure it out.

A warm wind kicked up, brushing the hair from her face. Maybe getting Steps Right back to the ranch would help. Perhaps with those final pieces of the journey, she would find the peace she so desperately craved.