Taking most of the night to get the girl home, Jupiter had taken the long way back in hopes of crossing as much water as he could. A wide, sprawling arc through creek beds and shallow crossings, the horse doing most of the thinking while Jupiter just held on. He wanted to make sure that if that tribe he had just dosed had any trackers alive, they'd have a hell of a time figuring out where he'd gotten off to.
This wasn't the first time Jupiter had needed to lose someone on a trail.
He'd managed to get the girl to drink, tipping his canteen against her cracked, bloodied lips as they rode, but she never fully woke. Her head lolled against his shoulder, dead weight. They'd been riding chest to chest the entire trip, her body limp and broken against him. She felt like she was in a comfortable position—or as comfortable as weeks of torture would allow—and he hated to move her now and make the trip harder for either of them. Every jarring step of the horse made him wince, made his wrapped ribs scream. He could only imagine what it was doing to her.
Just before he entered the girl's camp, he stopped riding. His vision swam as he dismounted, legs nearly buckling. He hooked her carefully onto his saddle horn so he could make them both a little more presentable.
She was a princess after all.
He pulled cloth from his saddlebags, fingers clumsy and shaking, and wrapped his ribs the best he could with what he had. Each pull of the binding sent fresh fire through his side—broken, maybe cracked, definitely not right. He took the last piece of cloth he had and did the same thing to the unconscious vision he was riding with—only her wrap was for a completely different reason. They'd left her in nothing but a loincloth, and he wasn't about to parade her into camp like that, princess or not. The wrap covered her chest, gave her some dignity back, but he left everything else visible. Her people needed to see the rest—the bruises mottling her ribs and shoulders, the cuts, the rope burns at her wrists and ankles. They needed to see what had been done to their girl.
He pulled her back up into the saddle again, her body slack and unresponsive, and cut her wrists free. The rope fell away, revealing raw, infected grooves in her skin where she'd been bound for God knows how long.
As they trotted into camp, everyone there erupted. Voices rose in a wave—relief, joy, disbelief all crashing together at seeing the girl alive. It was almost as if they were throwing him a parade. Children ran alongside his horse, shouting her name. Women emerged from tipis with their hands pressed to their mouths, eyes wide and wet. Old men stood straighter, hands raised in gratitude or prayer or both.
The warmth he felt when he entered the camp this time was the polar opposite of the reception he'd gotten when he'd ridden in bouncing on the horse's ass like common kill. This time it was like the favorite son returning to lead his people.
He knew it wasn't for him, but it's nice to be noticed once in a while.
Jupiter did things like this all the time with little to no pay. Sometimes he got a boot to the jaw for his trouble, but Jup never let it keep him down. Even if it did, Finn would never let Jupiter live in his troubles. This was one win he'd lock away in his mind for the next boot he was force-fed.
Less than halfway into camp, the girl's eyes began to flutter.
Jupiter slowed to a smooth walk, the horse's gait evening out beneath them, and got a good look at her eyes—making sure most of the lights were on. To his surprise, her eyes were a light green, an aquamarine green, almost blue in the right light. They caught the morning sun filtering through the trees overhead, dazed but focusing.
He waited for her to scream and kick, to thrash out of fear—waking up in the arms of a strange man after what she'd been through. But she never moved. Not even a flinch.
She just spoke, very softly. "Ni bílaʼashdlaʼii biyiní? Shizhéʼé deidéeshnííł?"
Jupiter had no idea what she was saying, but her voice was throaty yet high—broken from screaming, maybe, or from not speaking for weeks. What he pictured a fifteen-foot nightingale might sound like if such a thing existed.
"You are almost home," Jupiter said, his voice rough and half-dead itself.
She closed her eyes and turned her head into him, her cheek pressing against his chest, as they made the last few feet to her father's tipi. Like she trusted him. Like she knew,
somehow, that she was safe now.
The Chief walked out and up to Jupiter—he could hear the people around him, their voices building like wind before a storm, and knew that Jupiter must have gotten back. The old man's face was carved from stone as he approached, taking in the sight of his daughter. Taking in the damage.
He walked right up to Jup and said, "Who is this woman? This is not my daughter!"
A cold, steely look settled in his eye.
Then the old man started to laugh so hard he almost fell over, his shoulders shaking, one hand bracing against his knee. Relief breaking through like a dam bursting. The laughter was half-mad, the sound of a father who'd thought he'd lost everything and just got it back.
Jupiter brushed the giant knot of hair that covered the girl's face, fingers gentle, in an effort to wake her. Her eyes fluttered open once more and she started to slide off his horse—down into the arms of several women that were waiting to help her. Their hands caught her carefully, supporting her weight as her legs buckled. They murmured words of comfort and relief as they steadied her trembling body, their eyes taking in every bruise, every mark, every sign of what she'd endured.
Jupiter dismounted, nearly collapsing as his boots hit the ground, and walked up to the old man. Lynx-Wind was still laughing—only now he had tears running down his weathered face, cutting tracks through the dust and deep creases there.
"I really had you going!" the old man said, trying to catch his breath between chuckles and sobs.
"What are your names? With everything that was going on, I never even asked."
The old man was still sporting a giant smile when he said, "In your words, you can call me Lynx-Wind. My little girl, her name is Whispering-Ring."
Whisper didn't speak English fully, but she was able to recognize her name when she heard it. As she slowly made her way over to her father—her steps uncertain, bare feet shuffling through the dirt, women on either side ready to catch her if she faltered—he reached an arm out to greet her. When she got to him, he gave her a kiss on the forehead and said something that Jup didn't follow, the words flowing in their language like water over stones. Soft. Protective. Full of relief and rage in equal measure.
Whisper looked at Jupiter, her aquamarine eyes finding his through the haze of exhaustion and trauma, and said slowly, "Thank you, to save me."
She reached out for Jupiter's hands and kissed them, her lips soft and trembling against his scarred, bloodstained knuckles.
She then grabbed her father's shoulder with one hand and walked inside his tipi, disappearing into the dim interior where she'd be safe. Where she could finally rest.
The old man looked up at Jupiter and said, "You have kept your word. This is of great value to us both. Most people from outside that we make contact with are full of deceit. For that reason, we try to keep our distance. This was an extreme event and I needed to look outside the camp for an answer."
He paused, his eyes sweeping over Jupiter—the wrapped ribs, the blood, the exhaustion etched into every line of his face.
"Looks like I made the right call. Whenever you are ready to continue on your voyage, I will make sure five of my best are able to ride with you."
Just as the old man said the words, the head of Whisper popped out from the tipi opening and she talked with her father, her voice urgent and questioning despite its weakness. Her eyes kept darting back to Jupiter.
The old man said, "Whisper wants to know if you are going for good, or if you will return and let her thank you for what you have done."
Jupiter, taken back a little by surprise, opened his mouth but was unsure how to respond. His mind went blank, exhaustion and pain making it hard to think straight.
The old man started up again, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I think she wants to learn more about the man that saved her. I have no problem with you returning. It will allow us some time to go over all that happened to her after she was taken from us."
Jupiter said, "I will return. Sometime soon I will be back. I have a promise I have to keep and then I will find my way back here. I would like to leave when the sun is highest today."
The old man nodded his head, the smile fading into something more solemn and respectful, and made his way back into his tipi.
Tomorrow turned into four days.
Jupiter had planned to leave at high sun, ride out with his escort and put this whole mess behind him. But his body had other ideas. He made it as far as the tipi they'd given him before his legs gave out completely. The adrenaline that had kept him upright, kept him functional through the rescue and the long ride back, drained out of him all at once like water through a sieve.
He woke up on the third day not knowing where the first two had gone.
The old women of the camp had been tending to him—rebinding his ribs properly, forcing bitter tea down his throat, keeping infection at bay. When he finally sat up without the world spinning, when he could take a full breath without wanting to scream, he figured he was good enough to ride.
He figured wrong, but he was going anyway.
On the morning of the fourth day, Jupiter stood outside the tipi testing his weight, rolling his shoulders carefully. Everything hurt, but it was the kind of hurt he could work through. The kind that wouldn't kill him. Probably.
As Jupiter got ready to leave, the people of the camp gave him so much stuff he had to turn some of it away. Dried meat, water skins, blankets, tools, medicine pouches—they kept coming, arms loaded with gifts, gratitude pouring out faster than he could accept it.
He told them to leave anything else in the tipi they'd given him. He'd return to use it one day.
Six men on mounted horses set off to cross the warring state. Having five riders with Jupiter was a big help—they knew the exact path to take to avoid any other people that might want to get into some violence. Normally Jupiter had no issue with violence, but he'd had enough distractions already. Another one was the last thing he needed.
About ten minutes after they'd left, he heard horse footfalls behind them.
At first his mind jumped to the Comanche. Could they have somehow tracked him down? No, that would be out of the question. He knew he'd covered any trace that he'd been there. Still, his hand drifted toward his gun, instinct overriding logic.
When the horse and rider came into view, the rider began to yell for him. "DU-PEE-DUR!"
He thought that there was only one person he'd ever met with a voice like that.
Whisper couldn't let him ride off and leave her wondering if he would ever come back. Her giant knotted ropes of hair swung wild in the air with every stride the horse made, her small head dipping forward to meet them on the next bounce. The contrast was almost comical—this tiny slip of a girl with those massive hair knots flying like flags behind her.
The riders stopped and the five who'd been with Jupiter started to talk amongst themselves, their voices low and sharp. It was clear by their body language they didn't approve of her—accompanying them or riding off to chase an outsider, maybe both. Their faces were hard, disapproving.
Once she'd gotten close and slowed to a walk, Jup thought it was funny the way she rode up with her head down and her eyes looking up at him through her lashes. Demure, almost shy.
The other riders started to talk and chuckle at the sight.
Her eyes turned to steel as her head snapped straight and she burned a hole in them all with her glare.
They quickly shut the hell up as she joined the ride.
They were all able to make it to the New Mexico border safe and sound—days of riding through territory that could've gone sideways at any moment but didn't. The escort had done their job well.
As Jupiter tipped his hat to the riders as a thank you, showing honor in finishing the task their people had promised, they clearly had an issue with something. Their faces were tight, their eyes sliding between Jupiter and Whisper with barely concealed judgment.
Jupiter got down off his horse to say goodbye to Whisper.
Jup took her by the hand and said, "I am glad I was able to see you one last time before we part ways. As soon as I am done with this job I'm on, I will return."
Whisper looked at the five riders as they laughed, then snapped her head back to Jupiter and said, "NO, I go with!"
Jupiter took a step back and said, "I would love it if you came with me. If something happened to you…" He paused, the weight of it settling on him. "Who do you think would have to tell your father?"
The riders started to laugh harder as they watched Jupiter struggle with realizing that this was not the kind of girl who was used to being told what to do.
She whipped her gaze at the five riders, said something sharp and cutting that Jupiter didn't catch, and the five rode off. Just like that. Turned their horses and headed back the way they'd come without another word.
Jupiter stood there, confused for a half-second before it hit him.
Jupiter got a little closer to Whisper and said, "Wa… Wait a minute. Where are they going?"
He walked behind her horse and yelled to the riders, his voice rising with disbelief, "Hey, y'all forgot someone back here!"
Jupiter started to trail off, seeing that his efforts were useless. The riders didn't even turn around, didn't slow, didn't acknowledge him at all. "What the, aww hell."
Jupiter walked back around to where he'd been, looked at Whisper who had a gigantic grin on her face—proud as anything, like she'd just won something. Like she'd planned this whole damn thing.
Jupiter muttered to himself, "Where the hell are you going to be when the bullets start screaming through the air? Catching most of 'em with those huge ropes hanging off your head no doubt. Then I'll have another fight with your father after I bring back your dead body. Probably get eaten by coyotes on the way back. Just gonna be legs and four giant rope chunks they gonna end up burying in the ground."
The grin on Whisper's face just got bigger as he talked, like every word was a compliment.
He motioned her to follow as they made their way through New Mexico and into Arizona.