for it. And the very loving goodness that would make a gift of it was in itself a chain that must be broken if you were to be free.
* * * *
Joanna did not learn until the midday stop the following day that three more slaves had run away during the night.
She stood, worrying at the far horizon. Why was this happening now, here, of all places? She might have understood it in South Carolina, where they at least knew the lay of the land, but here, in this trackless wilderness—or was that the point? All that space, it made you dizzy almost; you felt barely anchored to the earth. And it would be easy enough, surely, to lose yourself; given enough time to put distance behind you, it was hard to imagine anyone ever finding you.
“But they’ll die out there,” she said aloud.
“Pro’ly,” Lucretia agreed.
“All for the sake of freedom?” She could see an effort to live free; but simply to die free—could it be worth it?
Lieutenant Price came up then, with the suggestion that perhaps she would like to ride ahead for a while. “I have to scout the next water hole,” he said. “And now that you’ve got a driver....” He cocked an eye in the direction of William Horse, who looked not at all happy with the suggestion.
Joanna, however, jumped at the chance to put the wagon train and its problems, temporarily at least, behind her. “My sidesaddle’s in the wagon,” she said.
“I’ll get it,” Gregory offered, and headed for the rear of the wagon.
“I’ll have one of the men fetch a horse,” the lieutenant said, but the Nasoni said, “That is not necessary. My horse is here.”
The lieutenant gave the pinto a dubious look. “I don’t know. That horse looks half wild to me.”
“He is an Indian pony,” William Horse said, as if that explained everything. “Here, I will show you.”
He gestured for Joanna to approach the pony with him. She had to admit, though she was a good rider, the pinto looked plenty skittish.
“Do not be afraid,” William Horse said. “Animals smell fear. Here, breathe into his nostrils, like so.” He snorted hard and loud up the horse’s nostrils. To Joanna’s surprise, the horse responded in kind, his nostrils flaring as he breathed a powerful stream of air into the Indian’s face.
“It is the horse’s way of greeting a friend,” the Indian said. “Now, you do it.”
Joanna approached the mount shyly, feeling a trifle foolish. The pinto whinnied nervously, but his large, limpid eyes regarded her with a steady appraisal.
Well, she told herself, it was already obvious that she wasn’t going to conquer Texas without a horse, and who better to teach her about horses than an Indian?
She leaned forward till her nose was almost touching the pinto’s, surprised that the horse waited patiently and motionless. She breathed out hard, trying to direct her breath up his nostrils, and was rewarded with a blast of hot breath that all but choked her.
“Again,” William Horse said. She repeated the strange ritual. “Now,” he said, sounding satisfied, “he is your friend, you can ride him anywhere.”
The horse gave a friendly-sounding snort and, when she reached up to pet his muzzle, rubbed gently against her hand.
“Well, I’ll be,” Lieutenant Price said, clearly impressed. William Horse, looking pleased with himself, went to take the saddle from Gregory.
A short while later, William Horse—and a great many others in the camp—watched Joanna ride off ahead of the train with the handsome army lieutenant.
* * * *
Gregory, on the other hand, was not watching his mother, but William Horse. Jay Jay was enthralled with their new driver, Gregory uncomfortable, and not entirely sure why. He bristled like a jealous suitor whenever William Horse looked at their mother, and because he was constantly watching for such things, he knew the Indian looked at her often.
His reactions were peculiar when you considered that he was not at all perturbed by Lieutenant Price’s attentions to their mother, and they were far more obvious. But in a sense, Lieutenant Price’s presence was official; he would have been there, looking after them, even if he didn’t like them. Good feelings just made it all the better.
It wasn’t that William Horse was an Indian, either; to some degree, that was in his favor—Gregory could not help being interested in the first Indian he’d ever met.
The Indian had, however, thrust himself upon them, unlike the lieutenant. Grateful as Gregory was for his help—and he was grateful; there were many things he just couldn’t do yet for his mother— he was wary, as well, of any deliberate intrusion.
Besides, the lieutenant didn’t exactly belong just to them; he had the whole wagon train to look after—and more than that, you could see that he belonged to the army first and foremost. William Horse was suddenly and simply there, with them, riding in the wagon, driving it most of the time, or right alongside it, with nothing to occupy his attention but them—with nothing most of the time, it seemed, to occupy his attention but their mother.
Being occupied so much with her himself, Gregory couldn’t help noticing, or minding. Gregory thought of himself as his mother’s partner in things. An apprentice, to be sure, with much still to learn, but it was understood between them that he would take over more responsibilities as time passed. It had always been that way; it was what he had sacrificed his childhood for.
He’d never actually played, for instance, with other children. Not that they wouldn’t have let him, or even that he wouldn’t sometimes have liked to. Take Jay Jay, for example. His brother was an evil, evil child; there was nothing so dangerous or so monstrous that he couldn’t delight in it, thrive on it. Gregory would have worshiped him if it hadn’t seemed like going over to the enemy somehow.
Or his father. Gregory loved to cope, he loved to make something his duty merely for the sake of doing it. And he could well have been father to the man whose son he was.
But when the time had come for choosing sides, his father had been on the wrong one. Because no matter what he had done for his father, it seemed as if he had always known it was his mother who managed. His father had problems. His mother solved them. It hadn’t been difficult to choose between those two directions. Not for him, anyway.
Jay Jay and Melissa never really had chosen, but that was a choice, too, wasn’t it? For himself, he had to belong, and if he could only belong to one of them, then that belonging must be total.
Which made him wary of people like the Indian seated next to him, who otherwise by now might have become his friend, if more than one were permissible.
And wary, too, of the fact that his mother was changing, he could see that, and it worried him, because he didn’t yet know how he was supposed to change with her.
* * * *
There was a moment, when they first started to ride from the camp, when the lieutenant glanced at her, frowned, and reined in his horse abruptly.
“Oh, no,” he said, “you’re not taking that with you.”
