Page 30 of Shoshone Sun

One evening, as the fire crackled in the fireplace, Flying Arrow reached out to gently touch Jane’s cheek, his hand warm against her cool skin. She met his gaze, her breath catching in her throat as her heart raced. Without a word, he leaned down and kissed her softly, a kiss that was gentle and full of promise.

That whole night, they lay side by side in front of the fire, wrapped in blankets, their bodies close, the warmth between them filling the space that had once been so cold. Jane knew, without a doubt, that she was falling in love with this man. He had shown her a new world, one she had never imagined, and in return, she had opened her heart to him.

By the time spring began to break the long winter, the bond between Jane and Flying Arrow had grown into something neither of them could deny. They were no longer just two people who had crossed paths—they were a pair, united by the land, by love, and by the quiet moments they had shared together. The snow began to melt, the land thawing under the touch of the sun, and as the earth began to awaken, so too did the depths of their hearts.

Flying Arrow’s lips curled into a smile as he stood beside Jane on the front porch of Peter’s cabin, watching spring take over the land. Putting an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close to him and whispered, “Our first spring together. A new beginning.”

Chapter Sixteen: The Weight of Farewell

- Peter Jacobs Homestead, March 1867

Ninety miles west of Fort Laramie –

By early March, the warmth of the spring sun had begun to stretch across the land, dispelling the heavy chill that had kept the world locked in ice for so many months. The first green shoots were pushing their way through the thawing earth, tentative yet determined. Birds returned to the trees, their songs a welcome reminder that life, even after the long, brutal winter, could still find a way to renew itself.

Inside the homestead, Jane stood by the front window, her hands resting on the window sill as she watched the world come alive again. There was a stillness in the air that mirrored the quiet within her—a stillness that seemed to hang between her and Flying Arrow, who sat at the table nearby, his dark eyes watching her with a calm intensity.

He had healed. The wound from the Blackfoot warrior’s arrow that had once almost killed him had scarred over. His strength had returned in full force, his body lean and powerful again, the pain he had endured fading into memory. He had waited for this moment—waited for his body to heal, for the season to change, for the time when he could return to his people.

And now it was time to go.

Flying Arrow’s feet itched for the freedom of the open land, the call of his people pulling him home. The Shoshone were waiting for him, calling to him from the high plains, their fires burning as a beacon in his heart. But here, in the quiet of Peter’s homestead, where he had spent months healing and learning, there was something else that anchored him—something he had not expected to find in the heart of a settler’s cabin.

Her name was Jane.

“I must leave now, Jane. Will you come with me?” Flying Arrow’s voice, low and steady, broke the silence.

His words hung in the air between them, thick with meaning. Jane didn’t turn to him immediately. She continued to stare out the window, the weight of his question pressing down on her chest. It was not an easy thing, this decision. She had come to love him, this quiet warrior with the dark, intense eyes, who had shown her a new way of seeing the world. His presence had brought peace to her heart, and she had given him something she hadn’t realized she had to offer: a piece of her soul. They were not just two people bound by circumstance anymore. They had become something more—a pair, a unit forged in the fires of understanding and shared quiet moments.

But now the reality of their situation weighed heavily on her. He was asking her to leave everything behind—to leave her sister, her nephew, the life she had started to build on this homestead. It was too much to ask.

“I cannot go with you, Flying Arrow,” she said softly, her voice thick with the sorrow she couldn’t hide. “I can’t leave them.”

His gaze remained fixed on her, steady as ever, but there was a flicker in his eyes—something like hurt, something that made his chest tighten. “I understand,” he said quietly, his voice so soft it almost seemed like he was speaking to himself rather than to her. “You have your family. You have your place here.”

Jane swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. She turned then, finally meeting his gaze, and in that moment, everything she had been trying to suppress—the ache, the sorrow, the guilt—came rushing to the surface.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she admitted, the words trembling on her lips. “But I know you must. I know that your place is elsewhere. At the same time, my place, my people, are here. Although I don’t want to let you go alone, I can’t turn my back on no family. Not when they still need me.” She glanced out toward the homestead where her sister Susan and her brother-in-law Peter were tending to the early spring chores. “They’re just beginning to settle here. They’ve built something. I can’t walk away from that.”

Flying Arrow said nothing for a long while. He let the silence settle, his expression unreadable. He knew that Jane had a heart that held tightly to those she loved. And he could not fault her for it, no matter how deeply his own heart ached.

“I don’t want to leave you either,” he said finally, his voice rough, like gravel against his tongue. “But I have my people. I cannot stay here forever.”

Jane nodded slowly, her chest aching with a grief she had not expected to feel so strongly. Although she’d hoped against hope that this day would never come, she had known, deep down, that it would—that Flying Arrow would need to return to his people, to his tribe. But the reality of it felt like a cold weight pressing against her chest.

“You’ve healed,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “You’ve given me so much love—more than I ever could have hoped for. But I have to stay. They need me.”

She walked over to him, sitting beside him on a bench at the table. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply sat in the silence, their shoulders touching lightly, the weight of their unspoken feelings heavier than any words could take.

Flying Arrow turned to Jane and leaned forward, his hand gently cupping her cheek, turning her face toward his. His eyes searched hers for any sign of uncertainty, but he found none. She was sure of her choice, and though it tore at him, he understood.

“You will always have a place with my people,” he said softly, his voice deep and steady. “If ever you change your mind, you are welcome. I am sure that my tribe will welcome you, as I do.”

A tear slipped from Jane’s eye, but she didn’t wipe it away. She let it fall, the sadness of the moment too much to bear in silence. “I know,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He pulled her into an embrace then, the strength of his arms enveloping her. For a long moment, they just held each other, neither of them wanting to be the first to let go. Finally, Flying Arrow pulled away slightly, his hand resting on her shoulder as he looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“I will leave tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice soft. “The journey is long. But I will wait for you—should you ever decide to join me.”

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