would forget about these women, especially this one. She was filled with trouble and sprouted it as she walked.
* * *
Lorna couldn’t get out of the teepee fast enough. The chief didn’t frighten her, but he did make her blood boil. He was so arrogant and haughty, she wanted to— Her train of thought stopped right there. Rushing forward, she hugged each of her friends.
“You are all right?” she asked. “No one hurt you?”
“Heavens, no,” Tillie said. “They have been so kind. I had a delightful lunch.”
“I did, too,” Betty supplied. “With a wonderful couple who had three little boys, and...”
Lorna stopped listening to turn to Meg. Once again, the look on her friend’s face almost stopped her heart. “Meg? Meg, what is it?”
Meg didn’t turn her way, and Lorna spun to see what was holding her friend’s interest so deeply that she’d all but turned to stone.
Little One was staring back at Meg, and frowning, as if confused.
Lorna bounced a glance between the two of them, wondering what each of them saw. Neither of them was frightening. In fact, other than that Little One had brown skin and Meg white, the two looked vaguely similar to one another.
Meg finally spoke, but it was to Little One. “Carolyn?”
“No,” Lorna said, “her name is Little One. The Cheyenne call her Aleaha, or something like that.”
“Carolyn.” Meg pulled the habit off her head. “It’s me, Margaret. Your sister.”
Lorna was not expecting that. Neither was Betty or Tillie, considering how they gasped. She spun, only to spy Little One with one hand clasped across her mouth and tears trickling down her cheeks.
Turning back toward Meg, Lorna felt her shoulders slumping. Meg was crying, too, and the next moment, Meg and Little One were hugging.
A cold shiver rippled Lorna’s spine, and she turned all the way around. Black Horse had left his tent, and the look on his face made her stomach clench. He wasn’t impressed by what he saw, either.
Once again, Lorna found herself seated in the chief’s tent, but now her friends sat beside her. Little One, Black Horse, and an old woman called One Who Heals completed the circle. Unlike the one she’d called Smile, this older woman’s long hair was completely gray and stringy, and deep wrinkles covered her face. And Lorna doubted this woman had smiled in years.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Tillie whispered. “Meg finding her younger sister. They look so much alike.”
“I know,” Betty answered. “They have the same brown eyes and black hair. Oh, I’m so happy I could cry.”
“Me, too,” Tillie replied. “It’s a miracle.”
Stuck between the two of them, Lorna pulled her eyes off the old woman to whisper, “Miracle?”
They nodded. Lorna drew in a deep breath and counted to ten. Everyone in the camp had brown eyes and black hair, but that didn’t matter. Her thoughts were on the situation and there wasn’t a good outcome from this little family reunion. If the sisters wanted to stay together, that meant either Meg stayed here, leaving the rest of them with no one to guide them to California, or Little One—Carolyn—came with them, which wasn’t about to happen by the look on Black Horse’s face.
The man hadn’t impressed her before, but now, the way he glared at Meg as if she had eight legs and multiple eyes, had Lorna’s ire growing by the second.
Betty and Tillie were acting as if they were witnessing a miracle. She shushed them by saying, “It’s not a miracle.” When they glanced at her, one on each side, she nodded across the small circle. “They don’t think so, either.”
Black Horse and the old woman, One Who Heals, were arguing. At least that was what it sounded like. It was hard to determine considering their strange language sounded harsh no matter what was said. The two of them, Black Horse and the old woman that Little One had told Meg was a medicine woman, barely waited for the other one to stop talking before they started, making it impossible to follow. He kept repeating one word. Hova’ahane. She’d heard him use it before, back at the river, but hadn’t known what it meant back then, and couldn’t figure it out now, either.
The hide dress the old woman wore was decorated with a unique design that looked like four arrows crossing each other, which she kept pointing to while releasing long and complicated words that at times rhymed with one another, making it hard to know if she was repeating things or not.
Black Horse made no hand gestures or facial expressions, other than to glare at Meg as if she was a bug he’d like to squash. That alone increased Lorna’s ire.
“What are they saying?” Tillie asked.
“I don’t know,” Lorna answered, looking toward Meg.
Her friend didn’t look her way, no matter how hard Lorna tried to get her attention. Instead, Meg kept her eyes on Black Horse, with her chin up. Lorna admired Meg right then, more so than before perhaps. Meg wasn’t bowing to this man like she had back at the river. It was about time.
When Little One joined in the argument, he cut a hand through the air. “Nehetaa’e. Ne’haatovestse.”
The two Indian women looked at each other, but it was Little One who spoke. “Hova’ahane. Ne’haatovestse.”
Lorna wished she knew what they were saying. What they were repeating. It was so frustrating. She couldn’t join in without knowing what they were arguing about. The subject was obvious. Meg and Little One being sisters, which was also very complex.
Little One rattled off several long and convoluted words, but Lorna recognized a beseeching tone in the young woman’s voice, and no one could miss the pleading in her eyes. It was clear Black Horse saw it. He rubbed his forehead before he said something soft and almost gentle.
Both the older and young woman smiled, and Little One reached over and patted his knee. He sat cross-legged, and laid a hand on top of hers. The look the two of them shared made Lorna’s stomach gurgle. One didn’t need to be an Indian to read what passed between them. These two loved each other. Good heavens, were they married? Is that why he was arguing so fiercely? Fearing his wife might leave with her newfound sister?
Lorna pressed a hand to one of her temples. This whole situation was bad enough. Meg’s sister didn’t need to be married to the chief to make it worse.
“My brother, the Great Chief Black Horse...” Little One started.
Lorna snapped her head up. That was right. Little One had called him her brother earlier. A sigh of relief snagged in Lorna’s throat. That was impossible. He couldn’t be Little One’s brother. That would make him Meg’s brother, too.
“...has many questions.”
Lorna’s patience was wearing thin. They all had many questions, and this wasn’t getting them answered. “What does hova’ahane
