discuss his past during the brief courtship. Now that they were not surrounded by people, she suddenly felt tongue-tied and afraid to ask.
As if reading her thoughts, he smiled, glancing back to where their groom rode a discreet distance behind them. “This is the first time I've been allowed to take you away from the crowd. I'm afraid my reputation isn't as sterling as Oliver Standish's.”
“You're nothing like him, thank heavens. And sterling reputations are easily tarnished in the Neponset River.”
He smiled grimly. “You were lucky to escape.”
“Him...or you?”
He looked over at her and his smile warmed. “Still the same outspoken Stevie.”
“Not quite the same. I've learned enough decorum to hold my tongue now and again...just not around you.” Her cheeks flamed as she added, “I behaved quite shamelessly the night you rescued me from the river. I was afraid you thought I was a...a hussy, that you wouldn't want to see me again.” There, at least she had the courage to say that much.
Chase studied her lovely profile, noting the delicately heightened color in her cheeks as she swallowed and stared straight ahead. “Ah, Stevie, you aren't a hussy or anything close to it—and believe me, I should know,” he added wryly.
Her head turned toward him. “You were the one who exercised good judgment while I...”
“You'll never know what that 'good judgment' cost me. Because of you I found I could behave honorably even in a veho world where there's damn little honor to be had.”
“You don't like us, do you?”
“I like you just fine, Stevie.” He was continually delighted with her artless blushes.
“I mean, white people in general. I remember your teaching me some Cheyenne words when we were children. The word veho means spider, not very flattering.”
“It can be taken two ways, I suppose. Spiders are clever and industrious, but they spin webs that ensnare their victims until they're helpless. Then they destroy them.”
“Like the white man is doing to your father's people now?”
He nodded grimly. “A whole way of life is coming to an end on the plains. The buffalo are almost gone. The government is herding the tribes onto desolate reservations, land no one else wants. They're getting us out of the way for the railroad and the wagon trains headed west, like the one my mother was on.”
“How is she, Chase?” He had never before spoken of Anthea, although Stephanie had heard dreadful rumors. She had always wondered what would make a lady such as Anthea Remington do such a reckless thing. The society gossips had quite a time of it when Anthea mysteriously vanished, then reappeared with an illegitimate Indian son. Stephanie watched the muscles in Chase's jaw clench and unclench as he battled for control of his emotions.
“There are days when my mother recognizes me...” His voice faded.
“I understand if you can't talk about it.” His pain wrenched her heart. “I lost my aunt, who was like a mother to me, but it was a clean parting.”
“My mother’s illness is the most insidious kind, taking her mind, leaving her body a shell.”
“You must love her very much.”
Chase nodded. “Yes, I do. She sacrificed everything for me. The Cheyenne live for their children.”
“You speak of her as if she were Cheyenne, too,” she said, puzzled. Anthea had been a captive, the dreaded “fate worse than death” for a white woman, an experience about which Stephanie would never dare inquire of Anthea’s proud and lonely son.
“She is Cheyenne, in her heart, her spirit,” he said simply, unable to explain about Freedom Woman and Vanishing Grass and a time in the long-ago past. “The