A Love Forbidden by Kathleen Morgan Page A

smiled. “So, are you enjoying escorting this pretty one around to the camps?” he asked in Ute. “You’re the envy of all the young braves, you know.”
    Jesse’s mouth quirked wryly as he clasped the other man’s arm in greeting, then released it. “Let them be jealous. It’ll do them good.”
    He turned to Shiloh and gestured to Johnson. “This is Chief Johnson. And this,” he added, gesturing now to Shiloh, “is Miss Shiloh Wainwright.”
    Once again, she surprised another Ute by speaking their language. “I have heard many fine things about you from Mr. Meeker and am pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”
    Johnson laughed in delight. “Come, come.” He stepped aside and motioned her into his home. “My wives will be happy to have yet another white woman who they can talk with. Susan will be especially pleased.”
    Susan was a large, handsome woman, and it soon became evident that she, above all of Johnson’s wives, had the most influence over him. She was dressed in a pale, almost white, mountain sheepskin dress—which Shiloh knew to be a softer, thinner hide than deerskin and far preferred by the women—that was heavily fringed, painted, and decorated with beading and porcupine quills. On her wrists and arms, she wore silver Navaho trade bracelets; around her waist a wide, beaded belt; and on her feet, the usual moccasins.
    Though the other wives were dressed similarly, Susan’s garb was the most ornate, and Shiloh knew from the clothing of the women that Johnson was a successful man. She recalled Josie telling her that besides being the medicine man and a powerful chief, Johnson, along with Captain Jack, had been a scout at one time for the US Army. Both men understood a lot about the ways of the US government when it came to its treatment of the Indians and weren’t to be trifled with. She only hoped Nathan Meeker fully appreciated this.
    The interior of the house, though simply furnished, had a table to dine upon and crockery and dishes that were neatly stacked on shelves on the wall. A few colorful, woven rugs decorated the floor, and the spots not covered were swept scrupulously clean. Something savory-smelling was cooking over a pot at the fireplace, carefully tended by another woman Shiloh assumed was a wife.
    She smiled and offered her hand when Johnson introduced her to Susan and then his other wives. Aside from Susan, the other women were shy and hurried back to whatever they were doing. Susan, however, soon motioned Johnson and Jesse away. Taking Shiloh by the arm, she led her over to sit at the table.
    “You speak our language well,” the Ute woman said. “How did you learn it?”
    “When I was young,” Shiloh replied, “my parents hired a Ute woman, the wife of Buckskin Joe, one of our ranch hands, to help with the housework and the care of my sister and me. Her name was Kanosh and I loved her. She taught me her language at first by playing games, and later, by conversing only in Ute. In turn, when I was older, I taught her how to read, which, I suppose, was the beginning of my dream to become a teacher.”
    “And your dream, as well, to become a teacher for the People?”
    “Yes.” Encouraged by Susan’s friendly manner, Shiloh relaxed and continued. “Kanosh had given me so much over the years, and I saw how learning to read helped her and her husband in their dealings with their white brothers and sisters, that I came to realize I might be able to accomplish much as a teacher to the Indians. Especially the Utes,” she added with a grin, “because I spoke their language and understood some of their beliefs and customs.”
    “But you’ve not been received well by most of our people, have you?”
    Shiloh hesitated. How much should she admit to? Susan appeared to be a forthright woman who, through her husband, likely possessed some influence with the other Utes. And her being the sister of the chief of all the Utes was no small advantage either.
    “No, not yet,”