Song of the Raven (Daughters of the Prairie 3) - Page 7

“Oh?”

“My father learned it from his grandmother. And my brother…he is a white eyes, like you.”

“How can that be?” Ella washed his shoulders, unable to tear her gaze from their golden beauty.

“He…came to us when he was small. My father… What is the word? Adopted him into our family.”

“Really?” Ella dropped her hand. “You took in a white boy?”

Raven opened his eyes, picked up Ella’s hand, and placed the cloth back on his shoulder. His hand covered hers. He moved her hand and the cloth in tiny circles over his skin. His fingers were warm on hers. Warm, and so disturbing. Again, the unfamiliar flutter unsettled her.

“We would take in anyone who needed our help, no matter what their color,” Raven said, closing his eyes.

“That was extremely”—her voice rasped and she cleared her throat—“hospitable of you.”

“I don’t know that word. But…we are not the savages you think we are.”

Ella removed her hand from his chest. His fingers still covered hers. “I never said you were savages.”

“Not you. Not Ella. Kind, beautiful Ella. Ikta. I mean white men. In general.” He pulled her hand back onto his skin. “Many thanks, ikta. But it grows dark. You must go to your cabin.”

“Yes, I will. Just let me get you tucked in.”

“Go now. I fear for what might happen to you if it is dark.”

“Don’t be silly. This is my father’s home. I’ve been out here many a night walking. No harm will come to me.”

“I do not trust…”

“The white eyes. Yes, I know.” Ella rinsed the cloth in the pail and wrung it out. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Besides, I need to get you a fresh pail of water first.”

“No.”

“But you must drink during the night. I’ll only be a moment.”

“There is water left.”

“But I rinsed the washcloth in it. New water will be much more refreshing.”

“Then I will wait until morning.”

“That is completely absurd.” Ella stood and shook the dust out of her skirts. She grabbed the pail. “I shan’t be long.”

“Ella…”

His voice trailed off as she left the soddy and headed for the well.

Goodness! What a strange man. She knew every hill and valley on this homestead. She had taken moonlit walks along the edge of the woods on many a clear night. First dark was her favorite time of the day. Strolling along, veiled in the luminescence of the moon, she could immerse herself in her own thoughts and dreams and imagine, if only for a short time, that she could leave the stifling neediness of her mother and father and begin a life of her own.

She drew a fresh bucket of water and headed back to the dugout.

“See? Still in one piece.” She drew a cupful of water from the pail and handed it to Raven.

He drank it quickly and held it out to her for more.

“Thirsty, aren’t you? And you thought you’d go all night without fresh water.” She smoothed her skirts and reached for the cotton blanket she’d brought earlier. “Lord knows you won’t be chilly tonight.” She wiped a loose strand of hair out of her eye, confused by the surge of heat when she touched him. “But in case you are…” She set the blanket down next to him. “Or if you’d rather, I can put it under you. Might be a sight more comfortable than the dirt.”

“Do not mind the dirt.” Raven opened his mouth in a gaping yawn.

Tags: Helen Hardt Daughters of the Prairie Romance
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