Chapter 30

RUNNING BULL HAD scouted ahead and found a lake off the road where they stopped to clean up. After two more days of travel, they were now only a day’s ride outside New York City and needed to be presentable. When Nora had finished at the lake, she waited by the horses for Jack and Running Bull. When Running Bull emerged, he was still without his shirt. Despite the cold and the fact that it was snowing heavily, he laid his clothing over the horse while he brushed out his long hair.

Nora was fascinated by the markings on his chest and arms. Jack had similar art, but she had never seen anyone else with these kind of symbols on their skin.

“The markings on your body,” Nora began, not the least bit shy at having been caught staring at a man’s naked chest, “Jack has similar ones. Are they special symbols of your tribe?”

“It is customary among Indians to have tattoos,” Running Bull replied. “Some tribes have the face of their chief on their bodies or their spirit animals. This is also customary among the Shawnee. What you see on Jack and I are symbols of our status within the tribe. These indicate Chosen Ones.”

This gave Nora pause. She thought about Fox’s prophecy: *You will find a Warrior who will protect you in your quest. Do not guard your heart against him. He is your mate. He will know things, like I do. Trust in what he says. He will be marked, and not like others.* Could these be the marks Fox had spoken of? But they were both marked. She knew of no white man who marked his body in such a way, though, of course, she didn’t see many without clothing. But having lived as long as she had, been as many places as she’d been, and met countless people of different cultures along the way, she had never even heard of the practice.

Not even in France.

“Chosen Ones? Might I ask what you are chosen to do?”

Running Bull pulled his shirt over his head. While Nora wanted to study the tattoos more, she couldn’t fault the man for wanting to be warm. The air felt much too cold to remain without clothing.

“These are for warriors,” Running Bull explained. “I am the chosen chief. I will follow my father and lead the tribe.”

“Are all the men called warriors?”

“Most of the braves are, yes.” Running Bull said. It was interesting that the Indian braves were called warriors, and that was the same phrase Fox had used. He hadn’t said ‘soldier,’ or ‘fighter,’ or anything such as that. He’d specifically used ‘warrior.’ Jack and Running Bull were considered warriors. Nora had never had anyone come close to the prophecy, but these two men were ‘marked like no others’ and were referred to as ‘warriors.’ Was one of these men her Warrior, then? They both had the skills and the markings. Either one of them would make a fine protector, but they were also to be her mate.

She assessed Running Bull in a new light. He was handsome enough, but he didn’t make her heart race or her breath catch like Jack did. That was worth thinking about in more detail.

“And what is Jack chosen to do?”

“I would have answered that question with great confidence earlier, but now I am not so sure. I once thought that he would be our war chief, our chosen warrior, to lead the braves into battle. This was a good role for him. His parents were very proud. He is the strongest and fastest in the tribe. He is a strategic thinker.”

“But?” Nora prompted.

“His heart is not devoted to it.” Running Bull sighed. “He has struggled to find his place and cannot bring himself to lead a war against white men. Jack will defend his tribe, of course, but he will not be able to bring himself to lead the charge. My brother is conflicted and unsure of his place and will need to choose between the two worlds very soon.
If he chooses to remain with the tribe, I will be happy to have him at my side, but if the price is his heavy heart, I would rather see him go.”

“I cannot imagine Jack struggling with anything at all,” Nora said. “He seems to know exactly what to do in any situation.”

“Once, perhaps,” Running Bull said. “But a man needs to be confident in his position. You, for instance, are a great struggle to him. He did not expect you to come along and upend his life.”

“He is merely escorting me to Boston.”

“Is he?” Running Bull asked. “I think there is more.”

“You are free to think what you wish, sir,” Nora said, too quick to dismiss the Indian’s cryptic messages. Then she hedged, “Does he have any other talents?”

Again, Running Bull smiled and said nothing, while Nora stewed over what she had just learned and what she hadn’t.

They stayed in companionable silence for a bit, readying their horses and layering their clothes as they waited for Jack’s return. Nora enjoyed Running Bull’s company and the wisdom he possessed. She judged him to be about Jack’s age, who she believed to be somewhere in his second or third decade, and so she wondered how he had come to be so wise at such a seemingly young age. Other than what he and Jack had told her, she knew next to nothing about the Indians. But she had traveled extensively in her century on the earth, and she enjoyed learning about new cultures. It was difficult to develop prejudices when you didn’t know who you would need to depend on next to help save your life.

Suddenly, Running Bull’s head snapped up and his shrewd eyes scanned the forest. His entire body went rigid, sensing something Nora could not. Fear trickled through her body as she realized something was very wrong.