Page 39 of Shoshone Sun

Two hundred miles west of Fort Laramie -

The journey to Flying Arrow’s village began with the first light of morning, as the sun kissed the peaks of the distant mountains. Jane rode beside Flying Arrow, the rhythm of their horses’ hooves a steady sound that carried them across the sweeping plains and over the rocky terrain. The wind whispered in the tall grasses, and the sky stretched endlessly above them, a canopy of blue with only the occasional cloud drifting lazily by.

At first, Jane felt the thrill of adventure, the excitement of traveling into unknown lands, but as the hours passed, a quiet weariness began to settle in her bones. She had never ridden so far before, never felt the wind burn her skin like this. Yet there was something comforting in the distance from home, something freeing about the space between the familiar sights of Peter and Susan’s cabin and the wild, open expanse that surrounded them now.

Flying Arrow was her steady companion, his quiet presence a reassurance each time her gaze strayed from the path ahead. His long, dark hair swayed gently in the wind, and his face, usually so composed and stoic, softened whenever his eyes met hers. Even on the horseback, he moved with the grace and ease of someone in tune with the land beneath him.

The first day of travel went slowly, their path winding through the foothills and alongside a broad river that cut through the valley. Jane marveled at the beauty of the land, and at the way the sunlight reflected off the water like liquid gold, the river seeming almost holy in the quiet stillness of the morning. It was as though the river itself was taking part in their journey, silently guiding them toward their destination.

By early evening, they stopped to rest, letting their horses graze while they shared a simple meal of jerky and dried fruit. The air was warm, and Jane relished the peace of the moment. Flying Arrow built a fire, and together, they sat in silence, watching the flames dance as the sun hung low in the sky.

“I’ve never traveled like this before,” Jane had said, breaking the silence. “But it feels right. To be out here, like this, with you.”

Flying Arrow nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “It is the way of my people. We often journey through the land, becoming one with it, learning its secrets along the way. It is a part of who we are.”

Jane smiled, feeling a deep respect for the way the Shoshone lived, for the bond they shared with the earth, and for the man who had taught her so much about what it meant to be truly connected to the land. She could feel that bond stretching out between them now, in the stillness of the mountains, in the hum of the wind through the trees. There was something sacred in this journey, something deeper than she had expected.

That evening, they camped under the open sky, the stars overhead brighter than she had ever seen. They slept in their blankets, with the horses tethered nearby, the quiet of the wilderness a lullaby that carried them into rest. But Jane awakened in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. The quiet was too profound, too overwhelming, and she lay awake, staring up at the sky, thinking about the life she was about to begin. She could barely grasp this was happening to her. She had gone from a young woman of the English countryside who had been jilted in love, to a frontier woman betrothed of an Indian warrior, on her way to take residence and birth his child in a Shoshone village. It defied belief!

On the second day travelling, the landscape shifted again. The rolling hills gave way to more rugged terrain, and the air grew thinner as they ascended higher into the mountains. The trail was narrow, winding its way through dense stands of pine, their scent fresh and sharp in the air. Jane’s legs grew sore from the long ride, but the sight of Flying Arrow beside her, his strength and determination apparent in every movement, kept her going.

As they rode, Flying Arrow shared stories with her, stories of his ancestors and the land they had once roamed, of the battles fought and the peace earned. His voice was calm and steady, and she listened intently, feeling the weight of history in his words. There was a part of her that longed to understand his world completely, to be as much a part of it as Flying Arrow was, but she knew it would take time.

By late afternoon of the third day, they crested a final ridge and saw the village spread out below them like a vision—a collection of tepees nestled among the trees, with smoke rising from their cooking fires. With Flying Arrow’s village so close now, Jane felt a strange flutter in her chest. This would be her home, too, she realized, a place where her life would be forever intertwined with Flying Arrow’s. The place her child would be born.

They descended the hill toward the village, their horses picking their way carefully down the rocky path. Jane’s heart beat faster now, her anticipation mingling with a quiet nervousness. She wasn’t sure what awaited her in this new world, but she was ready—ready to join Flying Arrow in his life, to walk with him through whatever came next.

The sun had dipped by the time they reached the village, the golden light casting long shadows across the landscape, highlighting the beauty of the land that had shaped Flying Arrow and his people. As they entered the village, the sounds of life—of voices, drums, and laughter—welcomed them. Jane drew a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over her like a soft cloak. Here, in the heart of Flying Arrow’s people, a new chapter of her life was about to begin.

The sound of laughter, the soft hum of drums, and the flickering glow of firelight greeted them as they entered the village. It was a peaceful evening, the air warm and thick with the scent of smoke and cooking meat, and it seemed to embrace them as they walked in.

Flying Arrow was greeted by his people with smiles and nods of respect. He was a warrior, but he was also a leader in his own right, his presence commanding yet gentle, and it was clear that his return brought great joy to the village. Jane felt the weight of his significance here. Their return to Flying Arrow’s village would begin the next chapter of their lives together.

Flying Arrow’s father, Chief Mighty Bear, was the first to approach them. His broad shoulders were draped in furs, his gray hair long and braided, his eyes sharp but softened by years of wisdom. He extended his arms, and Flying Arrow embraced him warmly, a gesture that spoke volumes in the language of men.

“Flying Arrow,” Mighty Bear said, his voice deep and gravelly, “you bring with you a joy that has been long awaited.” His eyes flicked to Jane, and a smile spread across his face. “Welcome, daughter. You are family now. My heart is full.”

Tears welled in Jane’s eyes, the weight of his words striking deep. She had always felt like an outsider in the eyes of the world, but here, in Flying Arrow’s village, she was no longer a stranger. She was family.

Flying Arrow’s mother, White Swan, approached next, enveloping Jane in a welcoming hug. Then came Great Bear, his brother, and Dove Wing, his sister. Jane felt her heart would burst with overflowing love.

After the immediate family, the tribe’s women came forward next, their faces bright with smiles, their hands outstretched in greeting. Jane embraced them all, feeling the unity of their culture and the strength of their bonds. She had learned much about their ways from Flying Arrow—how they cared for one another, how they carried their histories, and how they worked together in harmony with the land. Finally, the men and children welcomed Jane. Jane had never felt more loved.

It wasn’t long before everyone gathered around the central fire pit, where a large feast had been prepared in honor of the homecoming. The smell of roasting meat mingled with the earthy aroma of herbs, and the sound of flutes and drums filled the air. People laughed, stories were shared, and songs echoed through the camp as the night unfolded.

As the meal began, Jane felt Flying Arrow’s eyes on her. She looked up to meet his gaze, her heart fluttering with a quiet nervousness. This was a moment of great significance—not just for her, but for both of them. She had never been part of a ceremony like this, but Flying Arrow had assured her that the customs here would be a true reflection of their love and commitment.

A week later, much to Jane’s surprise, Peter, Susan, Petey, Paul, and Mary arrived at the Shoshone village. Jane was overcome with joy and looked pointedly at Flying Arrow.

“Did you?” she asked.

“I sent a brave to ride quickly and give word of our wedding date.”

Jane threw her arms around him. “Thank you!” she said.

Still holding her in his arms, Flying Arrow said, “Tonight, we will be joined forever,” his voice low but steady. “A promise will be made in front of my people and in front of yours. A promise to honor, to love, and to share our lives together. I am proud, Jane, that you will become my wife.”

Jane stepped out of his arms and looked deeply into his eyes. She held his gaze as she nodded, her throat tight with emotion. She could feel the weight of the moment, the sacredness of it, as she stood before him, her heart full. Her white relatives were a comforting reminder of the family she had built in both worlds. They sat off to the side, watching with smiles, their faces glowing in the firelight.

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