Page 31 of Shoshone Sun

Jane pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. The connection between them was undeniable, the bond between them forged not just by love, but by respect, by shared time, and by the land they both had come to love in their own ways.

“I will never forget you,” she whispered. “I could never forget you.”

Flying Arrow smiled faintly, his expression bittersweet. “Nor I, Jane. Nor I.”

Later that evening, as the house settled into its usual quiet, Jane sat by the window of her room, her thoughts a tangled web of love and loss. The stars shone down from the clear sky, cold and distant, and she wondered if Flying Arrow was already missing her as much as she was missing him.

A soft knock at the door broke her daydream.

“Come in,” she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself.

The door creaked open, and Flying Arrow entered, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the main room. His face was still, unreadable, but Jane could see the way his shoulders seemed to carry a weight far heavier than any physical burden. She rose slowly from the chair, drawn to him, to the quiet promise that still lingered between them.

“I was just thinking about you, missing you before you’re even gone,” she said, a faint, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I can’t leave without holding you in my arms one last time.” His voice was soft, almost a murmur, but it carried the weight of everything they both knew was coming.

She crossed the room toward him, her breath catching in her throat as she closed the space between them. Flying Arrow reached for her, his hand warm against her cheek, his touch a reminder of everything they had shared. They stood there for a moment, neither of them moving, just breathing in the final moments of this shared time, this fleeting, sacred connection.

Slowly, tentatively, he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss was soft, hesitant, as though they both knew that it would be their last. But as the kiss deepened, there was no hesitation left. Only the need to be closer, to feel each other one final time. He pulled her to him, their bodies fitting together with ease, despite their different worlds.

Jane’s hands trembled as they traced the outline of his face, memorizing every curve, every inch of him as if to hold it in her memory forever. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm, steady and strong, yet something in his chest seemed to quiver—perhaps in sorrow, or perhaps in the same realization that gripped her.

They undressed each other slowly, their movements tender, almost reverent. There was no rush, no urgency—only the quiet intensity of knowing that this was both the first and the last time they would make love. The first and last time they would share this closeness, this intimacy. Flying Arrow laid her gently on the bed, his body covering hers in a way that felt both foreign and utterly familiar. They moved together with the silence of two people who had no more words left to say.

When it was over, they lay together in the quiet of the room, the only sound the soft rhythm of their breathing. Jane’s hand found his, their fingers intertwining as though they could hold onto each other, could make time stop.

But neither of them could stop what was coming.

A few hours later, Flying Arrow pulled away slowly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I must go now before someone discovers that I’m in here,” he whispered. “You will always have a place in my heart, Jane.”

A tear slipped from her eye, falling to the pillow beside her, and she squeezed his hand tighter. “And you will have a place in mine,” she whispered, though the words felt hollow in the face of the finality of their parting.

Flying Arrow stood and moved toward the door, his back to her. “Good night, my dearest.”

As he closed the door behind him, Jane lay still in the bed alone, her chest tight with grief, her heart breaking as the sound of his footsteps faded away. And when she could no longer hold back the sobs, she let herself weep—quietly at first, then louder, until the pain of losing him consumed her.

It was the final sorrow—the knowledge that they would never be together this way again.

The next day, as the sun began to rise, Flying Arrow prepared to leave. He collected his few belongings, his war pony saddled and waiting. Jane, Peter, Susan, and little Petey gathered in the yard to see him off.

Flying Arrow approached his horse and turned to Jane. For a long moment, their eyes locked, and in that gaze, they shared everything—the love, the sadness, the longing, and the knowledge that this was the end of one chapter, and the beginning of another.

“In my heart always,” he said softly, his voice carrying across the still air. “In my heart.”

With one final look, he swung onto his horse’s back and urged it forward, then slowly disappeared into the distance.

Jane stood at the edge of the yard, watching him ride away, her heart filled with the knowledge that no matter where life took them from this moment, the love they had shared would remain—rooted deep within her soul, like the land itself.

Chapter Seventeen: The Return

- Shoshone Village, Spring 1867,

Two hundred miles west of Fort Laramie –

The sun had risen high over the vast plains, its warm golden rays spreading across the landscape like a comforting blanket. Flying Arrow sat tall upon his war pony, the steady rhythm of his horse’s hooves the only sound that filled the silence of the open land. For two days he had ridden without pause, his thoughts a mixture of anticipation and sadness, the weight of parting from Jane still heavy on his heart. The long journey back to his tribe was an endurance he knew well, but this time, there was one pull within him that tugged at his chest, urging him forward with a relentless urgency—and a second begging him to go back. He knew which he must follow, but it was difficult.

The Shoshone camp loomed ahead, nestled at the base of a series of rocky ridges, the smoke from their fires rising in curling strings against the blue sky. As Flying Arrow approached, his heart quickened, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, an innate sense of belonging washed over him. His people—his family—were waiting for him.

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