Grace and the Guiltless

Chapter 9

The next day, after Cheveyo left, Joe ducked through the doorway.

Grace looked up drowsily and saw that he stood head bowed, hands clasped in front of him.

“I came to apologize.”

“For what?” Grace’s words came out thickly past the lump in her throat. She couldn’t look at him, remembering yesterday. She had made a fool of herself.

Joe shuffled his moccasins in the dirt. “I knew you weren’t well, but I goaded you into that competition. And now I’ve made you even sicker.”

“It’s not your fault,” she mumbled. Now that she had recovered some of her strength, she couldn’t believe she’d let him carry her that way — she knew her ma would have told her that’s no way for a lady to behave. But he showed none of the awkwardness and embarrassment that she struggled with inside. The evenness of his voice, the clearness of his tone revealed that last night had been nothing more than a chore for him. He had taken care of her the same way he would take care of a little girl who had fallen and scraped her knee.

“I should have known better. And I’m very sorry.” He turned to leave.

“Joe?”

He turned, his face both expectant and wary.

“I . . . never mind.” She infused flatness into the words. “It really wasn’t your fault. I wanted to prove myself.” Which she hadn’t done. So as much as she hated to admit it, she forced herself to add, “And you were right.”

Joe gave a wry smile. “Yes? Well, I wish I wasn’t.” He ducked through the opening, leaving her alone.

What did he mean by that? He wants me to go? Grace rolled her eyes at herself. She needed to focus on getting better so she could leave.

* * *

A few hours later, Joe popped back into the medicine lodge holding a pelt. “Oh. Where’s Cheveyo? He wanted this.”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “What is that awful smell?”

Joe’s cheeks turned pink. “I’ve just come from hunting.” He motioned to the grease slathered all over his chest, face, and hair. “We cover ourselves with animal fat to mask our human scent. That way the prey can’t smell us stalking them.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Grace said, holding her nose. “But I hope you plan to take a bath soon.”

“Right after I take you to meet someone.” Joe left the pelt in a corner of the lodge and came over to help Grace to her feet.

Cheveyo’s warning not to overdo things was running through her mind, but she stood up a bit steadier on her feet this time and accompanied Joe into the village.

He led her over to one of the girls about her age. “This is Sequoyah. Her name means ‘Sparrow.’” He gestured toward Grace. “Sequoyah, this is our visitor, Grace.” He smiled at the girl, who ducked her head shyly.

“I am . . . pleased to meet you,” Sequoyah said, then she looked to Joe as if for approval.

He nodded. “You said it right.”

A relieved smile crossed her face. “The English I am learning. Sometimes I do not say it the right way, but Joe, he helps me.”

Grace couldn’t help smiling back at the girl’s infectious grin. “I’m pleased to meet you too.”

“I hope you will help me with the English too.” She threw a teasing glance at Joe. “He often too busy to help.”

“He is often too busy,” Joe corrected.