her, and frowned. "You shouldn't be in here."
"I
had to use the restroom. Then I heard your voice. I thought I'd walk you
out." She shrugged. "I can see you don't need my help, so I'll go get
the truck."
She
walked ahead of him at a normal pace. If he overdid it, he could pay the price
of aching muscles tomorrow. Maybe then, he'd listen to her more often.
A
young girl around seven or eight years old ran through the door, her dark hair
flying behind her, and a giant smile on her face. Joan couldn't help turning to
watch her run…right at Trace. Before she could catch the child and save him
from getting hurt, Trace dropped his crutches and pulled the child into his
arms.
" Toniktuka
hwo. " Trace held the child to him, his hand stroking the child's head.
Joan
couldn't hear the girl's reply, or understand what Trace was saying. She stayed
back, shocked at the delighted smile on Trace's face. It was obvious to Joan
that he knew the girl and was genuinely happy to talk with her.
" Ah-ghwah-wea-lah "
Trace pointed at the ground and shrugged.
The
child gathered his crutches, helped him situate them under his arms, and gently
hugged him around the waist again. Trace murmured in his own language to the
girl, who nodded before running off. Captivated by the peace she viewed in
Trace's lax jaw and warm gaze, Joan stared.
She
knew the moment he learned she was witnessing the exchange, because his chin
came up and his mouth hardened. Reminding herself that his private life was
none of his business, she turned and hurried to bring the truck around.
Once
settled in the truck, Trace directed her to drive past a few rows of houses and
turn down the last street on the left. She'd barely made the corner, and he
ordered her to stop.
Weather
and time painted the row houses with a coat of poverty and desperation. It
seemed in this area, the houses were set apart from the others. Dogs ran wild,
and litter tumbled in the wind. Sadness washed through her. Unlike the active
and populated roads she'd gone through upon arriving on Lakota land, no one
worked outside or tended their yards here. Most of the houses appeared
abandoned and in disarray.
"Honk
the horn." Trace lifted himself off the seat, dug in his back pocket, and
removed a money clip.
She
chewed on the inside of her cheek. The area appeared deserted, but she followed
his directions and pushed down on the middle of the steering wheel.
The
loud sound seemed to alert the inhabitants in the shack and the door opened.
The same girl from the stables came out and ran straight toward the truck.
Trace opened the door. Joan leaned forward, and watched him pass a handful of
cash to the girl. She frowned as the child wadded the bundle of bills up in her
fist.
The
child beamed, leaned inside the cab of the truck, and kissed Trace's cast.
" Ah-kee-shnee. "
Trace
waited for the girl to run back inside the house and shut the door. She'd hate
to assume anything, but what other reason would Trace have to give the child
money than he was her father.
"You
can go now." Trace closed his eyes, let his head fall back on the headrest
of the truck, and deliberately ignored her.
Trace's
silence gave her more time to try and put the pieces of this new puzzle
together. Had Trace been married before, or was the little girl back on the
reservation a child from a relationship he'd had in his past? Why wasn't she
living with him? How could he allow his child to live in such poverty when he
was snug and happy in a home big enough for twenty children?
Half
way home, Trace still feigned sleep, ignoring her every time she cleared her
throat or sighed loudly in her attempt to rouse him. Fed up with his cold
shoulder treatment, she decided on her own to stop in Durham and pick up her
mail without asking his permission. If he wanted to pretend she wasn't in the
truck with her, she'd pretend that it was all right to drive his vehicle the
two extra miles out of their way.
She
turned down First Street and followed
"I
had to use the restroom. Then I heard your voice. I thought I'd walk you
out." She shrugged. "I can see you don't need my help, so I'll go get
the truck."
She
walked ahead of him at a normal pace. If he overdid it, he could pay the price
of aching muscles tomorrow. Maybe then, he'd listen to her more often.
A
young girl around seven or eight years old ran through the door, her dark hair
flying behind her, and a giant smile on her face. Joan couldn't help turning to
watch her run…right at Trace. Before she could catch the child and save him
from getting hurt, Trace dropped his crutches and pulled the child into his
arms.
" Toniktuka
hwo. " Trace held the child to him, his hand stroking the child's head.
Joan
couldn't hear the girl's reply, or understand what Trace was saying. She stayed
back, shocked at the delighted smile on Trace's face. It was obvious to Joan
that he knew the girl and was genuinely happy to talk with her.
" Ah-ghwah-wea-lah "
Trace pointed at the ground and shrugged.
The
child gathered his crutches, helped him situate them under his arms, and gently
hugged him around the waist again. Trace murmured in his own language to the
girl, who nodded before running off. Captivated by the peace she viewed in
Trace's lax jaw and warm gaze, Joan stared.
She
knew the moment he learned she was witnessing the exchange, because his chin
came up and his mouth hardened. Reminding herself that his private life was
none of his business, she turned and hurried to bring the truck around.
Once
settled in the truck, Trace directed her to drive past a few rows of houses and
turn down the last street on the left. She'd barely made the corner, and he
ordered her to stop.
Weather
and time painted the row houses with a coat of poverty and desperation. It
seemed in this area, the houses were set apart from the others. Dogs ran wild,
and litter tumbled in the wind. Sadness washed through her. Unlike the active
and populated roads she'd gone through upon arriving on Lakota land, no one
worked outside or tended their yards here. Most of the houses appeared
abandoned and in disarray.
"Honk
the horn." Trace lifted himself off the seat, dug in his back pocket, and
removed a money clip.
She
chewed on the inside of her cheek. The area appeared deserted, but she followed
his directions and pushed down on the middle of the steering wheel.
The
loud sound seemed to alert the inhabitants in the shack and the door opened.
The same girl from the stables came out and ran straight toward the truck.
Trace opened the door. Joan leaned forward, and watched him pass a handful of
cash to the girl. She frowned as the child wadded the bundle of bills up in her
fist.
The
child beamed, leaned inside the cab of the truck, and kissed Trace's cast.
" Ah-kee-shnee. "
Trace
waited for the girl to run back inside the house and shut the door. She'd hate
to assume anything, but what other reason would Trace have to give the child
money than he was her father.
"You
can go now." Trace closed his eyes, let his head fall back on the headrest
of the truck, and deliberately ignored her.
Trace's
silence gave her more time to try and put the pieces of this new puzzle
together. Had Trace been married before, or was the little girl back on the
reservation a child from a relationship he'd had in his past? Why wasn't she
living with him? How could he allow his child to live in such poverty when he
was snug and happy in a home big enough for twenty children?
Half
way home, Trace still feigned sleep, ignoring her every time she cleared her
throat or sighed loudly in her attempt to rouse him. Fed up with his cold
shoulder treatment, she decided on her own to stop in Durham and pick up her
mail without asking his permission. If he wanted to pretend she wasn't in the
truck with her, she'd pretend that it was all right to drive his vehicle the
two extra miles out of their way.
She
turned down First Street and followed
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