Chapter 43

Jack paused when he awoke, automatically tensing up. The pain in his back flared to life, aching like a rotting tooth. His ribs were by far the worst, with little shoots of pain firing off with every breath he took. Cautiously, he sat up and was relieved to find the pain in his ribs retreat a little once the pressure was off. He’d definitely cracked them. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to do too much fighting until they’d healed.

He rose from the bed and gingerly walked to the bedroom window, careful not to pull at the new scabs that had formed over the lash marks. Running Bull was outside, appar-ently helping Mr. Hamilton tend to the farm’s animals. Jack would help them—to the extent he could—and he and Running Bull would talk. He put on his pants carefully, but found he needed help with his shirt. Intending to track down Nora for as-sistance, the door swung open before he could reach it. Nora stood there holding a steaming mug.

“You are awake,” she noted. “How do you feel?” She sounded cautious yet curious. There was something different in the way she looked at him. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Her eyes focused briefly on his bare chest, and though she had seen him without a shirt before, there was something different in her assessment—something that put a spark in her eye and made his breath catch briefly.

“Like I’ve been trampled by a herd of horses.”

Her lips quirked in amusement, but still that look in her eyes remained. “Take this and drink it all. It’s a broth with a mild pain reliever. It should help some.”
Jack took the mug, slowly drinking from it. The broth was hearty and burned right through him, warming his insides.

“Going somewhere?” she asked.

“Just out to help with the farm chores,” Jack said, with a hint of guilt. “Once you assist me in getting my shirt on, if you would.”

Nora considered him another minute then nodded. She moved behind him and he felt her gentle touch over the wounds on his back. “It will be hard to stretch too much,” she said. “You should limit the chores to just feeding grain. You’re not strong enough yet for anything else. Try not to reach above your head.”

Walking to the bed, she retrieved his shirt. He placed the mug down on the dresser and hissed as he delicately raised his arms enough to slide the shirt over his shoulders and down his back. Wincing, he straightened up.

“I’ll put a balm on it later. For now, go speak with Running Bull and be at peace.”

Jack retrieved the mug and headed slowly for the door, drinking as he walked. By the time he had gotten to the kitchen, he’d emptied the mug.

“Remember my instructions, Jack,” Nora said, firmly. “Don’t overdo it. You took a horrible beating and you really should not be straining yourself. It is only because I know your heart is heavy that I’m not arguing you back into bed. Rest is what you need now.”

“I think I know my limits, Nora,” he countered. “Did you not just give me a pain reliever?”

“That doesn’t heal the skin,” she snapped. “The broth will only make you slightly more comfortable.”

He turned and ran a finger down her cheek, surprising both of them, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I appreciate your care and your rescue so much I will remain silent for the duration of the blistering lectures for my foolishness.”

Exasperated with him, Nora let out a long-suffering sigh, turned on her heel, and left the kitchen.

Mr. Hamilton entered the kitchen from the outside and stomped snow off his boots. “The chores are just about complete. Mr. Running Bull wanted to finish the rest on his own. Interesting fellow. I’m glad I didn’t shoot him on sight yesterday.” Jack raised his eyebrows as Hamilton passed. Shaking the odd comment off, he stepped outside into the cold to face his brother.

“You are better,” Running Bull noted stoically. “You frightened us. You frightened me.”

“I am sorry,” Jack said, bowing his head. “I have failed you, my chief. There is no treaty.”

“I am not your chief yet, and I think I never will be,” Running Bull mused. “And you have not failed, brother. You have proven that the white armies cannot be trusted.
Kidnapping charges or not, I do not believe Gage would have allowed such a treaty. They want our land. They do not want treaties to stand in their way.”

Relieved that Running Bull was not angry with him over losing the treaty, Jack said, “Will you move the village further west?”

“Perhaps,” Running Bull said. “My father does not want to do so.”

“No one wants to leave their homes.”

“You do with regularity. And now there is Nora to consider. What happens when you reach Boston and deliver her to her ship? Do you leave her and return home with me? What will my report to the elders contain about you, White Bear?”

“It is not my plan to leave the Colonies,” Jack said slow-ly. “I know nothing about England. Yet....”

“Ah, Olam-a-pies,” Running Bull said with a knowing grin, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “Your task for the tribe is fulfilled, you have not failed us. Please do not carry such a burden in your heart. There is a reason you can see things, White Bear. You have a magic none of us others do. It is why some of the elders wish to see you gone—it worries them. But it is why I wish you would stay. Instead of war chief you could be shaman. Perhaps these dreams could give our people guidance in the coming white man’s war.”

“Perhaps.” Jack said quietly, feeling the truth of his decision in his bones. “Will you tell Rising Sun and Soaring Eagle I will make them proud? Will you tell them it may be a long time before I see them again?”

“Your mother and father will be happy to hear you have found a woman,” Running Bull smirked. “She is a fighter and will give you strong sons.”

“I have done no such thing,” Jack said quickly, but with-out the annoyance that normally accompanied Running Bull’s comment.

“Haven’t you? You found this woman long ago. Follow your path, White Bear, you have always known it. See where it leads. As much as I would have you stay, we both know you cannot. There are more important things waiting for you. I have already said goodbye to Nora.”

“You are leaving now?” Though Jack knew his feelings for Running Bull made him vulnerable, he was not ready to see his brother leave. Panic began to fill him. What would happen if he did go to England? He might never see Running Bull again.

“I must return to the tribe. They need to know they are unsafe. It pains me, as well, to say goodbye.” Running Bull hugged Jack. Clinging to him, Jack buried his face in
Running Bull’s shoulder. It was wrong to show such weakness, but this man, his brother, had stuck by him, fought with him and for him within the tribe. No one had ever shown Jack such loyalty or understood what was in Jack’s heart better. They both knew that whether Jack sailed from Boston or not, he would likely not return to the tribe.
Not to live; perhaps never to visit.

Running Bull pulled away first and with one last clasp of their hands, Jack let his friend go, watching as he melted silently into the trees.

Jack felt the loss of his brother keenly. He couldn’t say if he would see his tribe, his parents, ever again. When he’d left them for this mission, he hadn’t known it was for the last time. Of course, no one could predict what would happen, but Jack’s plan had been to return to them after the negotiations to report the results himself. Now Running
Bull would do it, and the day would come when he would assume his position as chief. Their destinies were down different paths, Jack knew this. Still, he hadn’t thought they would be so different as to never see each other again.