Free White Dreams by Susan Edwards

Morning Moon gave her an odd look as she spoke, but excitement leaked into her voice. “I’ve also seen the room I’ll share with Weshawee. It is the color of the sun rising in the morning. And the windows have white coverings that look soft as clouds.”
    “Curtains?”
    “Yes. Like my uncle Wolf has, but different. Weshawee says she hates the pink-and-white fluff and ruffles.”
    Star tried to smile but couldn’t. Her daughter seemed to have no problem seeing future events clearly. What was the extent of her gift, and was she herself doing right by trying to separate her daughter from the Spirits who bestowed it? She longed to question the child, but feared her answers, so she changed the subject. “Do you think you’ll like living in such a big house and sharing a room with Weshawee?”
    “Yes, Weshawee is so much fun.” Morning Moon giggled, then sobered.
    “What is it, daughter?”
    Morning Moon bit her lip and eyed her mother warily. “Nothing.”
    Her daughter’s obvious reluctance to talk—and Star had to assume it was about her visions—was a stab in the heart. But it was her own fault. Morning Moon had kept her developing gift a secret because she’d known how her mother would react. Even now, it was hard for Star to accept her daughter’s power. But it was time, past time, they talked about it.
    Before she could pursue the subject, Renny’s father rode up to them, leading their horses.
    Star frowned when Morning Moon took advantage of the interruption and rode off to join the other women, who waited at the head of the trail. The reason for her daughter’s quick escape wasn’t lost on her. She understood, and vowed to make it up to her.
    “What’s wrong?” Grady asked, dismounting, drawing Star from her dark fears. He reached across and removed a small twig from her hair.
    His touch, brief and impersonal, warmed her. She accepted the reins he held out, then mounted. “I acted too late. My child…the visions have begun.”
    Grady tilted his head back, revealing a strong, bronzed column below his red beard. “They don’t seem to be affecting her any.” He pulled his hat off and swiped an arm across his forehead.
    Star brushed bits of grass from her skirt. “She’s too young to understand. I do not want her childhood tainted. She should be free to laugh, play, dream and enjoy being young—she should not have to worry about being an adult too soon.”
    Grady slapped his hat against his thigh, startling his horse. He turned pain-filled eyes to her. “You want for Morning Moon what I took away from Emma.”
    Yes. And what this curse took from me. She met his sad gaze squarely, again feeling an overpowering sense of closeness with this man. “I want what’s best for both Morning Moon and Weshawee.”
    Replacing his hat, he swung into his saddle. “Together, we shall give our daughters what they need.” He paused and squinted against the glare of the sun overhead. “You are giving up much for us, leaving behind so much…”
    Her breath caught in the back of her throat. The colonel’s eyes, clear blue-gray, held hers. Yet it wasn’t the color that fascinated her as much as the sensitivity, the glimpses into the man behind the uniform. For reasons she didn’t understand, she was able to see past the stern commander, past the appearance of cold aloofness. Hidden deep inside, she saw the lonely, scarred man who by a cruel twist of fate had lost his wife in gaining a daughter.
    Death renewed by birth. Endings lead to new beginnings. The words floated in her mind; they had been taught to her by her people and she knew she should believe them. But things were so different, so painful.
    She and Grady O’Brien shared so much. Each had lost a beloved mate, had a daughter they loved, carried a soul full of guilt. She glanced over at him again and, seeing that he was thinking similar thoughts, she glanced away. An awkward silence fell on them, and they spurred their horses after the