A Love Forbidden Read Online Free PDF Page A

catty-corner to the window, and on the opposite wall, a plain little table with a chair served as her desk. Near the door was a chest of drawers with a mirror atop it. Her traveling trunk sat beneath the window, and though it provided a handy seat, the view of the storehouse across the street didn’t encourage a lot of time spent gazing outside.
    She had yet to unpack all her books, or hang the few framed prints she had brought with her, or lay out the rag rug beside her bed, but her family photographs already sat on one corner of the table. Putting out the tintypes of her two older stepbrothers—Nicholas and Cord—as well as one of her now-deceased stepfather standing with her, Jordan, and their mother, and the very grainy one of her father, dressed in Union blue, taken just a few months before his death in a battle against the Confederates, was always one of the first things Shiloh did when she was away from home. The photographs were the closest thing to actually having her family with her, and their presence seemed to help lessen some of her homesickness.
    She grabbed up the heavy, black woolen coat she’d left laying on top of her trunk and donned it. Briefly, Shiloh considered whether to bring along her knit hat, then decided against it. The day was cloudless, sunny, and no wind blew. She’d be warm enough in her coat, mittens, and wool skirt, in addition to a woolen vest over her pleated white blouse, woolen stockings, and boots.
    Pausing before the chest of drawers, she did a quick check of her hair in the mirror. In a vain attempt to contain it, she had pulled back her dark auburn, irrepressibly curly tresses at the nape of her neck and tied them with a black ribbon. Still, as hard as Shiloh had tried to tame the flighty mess, some of the shorter, more wayward tendrils escaped to frame her face.
    She inwardly sighed. With the wild mane she possessed, not to mention its color, she was sure to be the center of attention with all the Utes. But it couldn’t be helped. The good Lord had His reasons for everything, and sooner or later even the Utes, who were certainly not used to curly red hair, would get used to it.
    For an instant longer, Shiloh’s gaze caught on the silver chain that lay over her buttoned blouse, the silver cross and tooled eagle glinting at her throat. Jordan’s claim that it was sacrilegious to wear the two together echoed in her mind. Was her sister correct in her scathing assessment? Was she pushing the boundaries of good taste and decorum wearing the two together?
    After a moment of indecision, Shiloh decided not to hide the necklace beneath her blouse. She was proud of both. Indeed, perhaps they might be of some help in bridging some of the cultural separation between the whites and Indians. If nothing else, the Utes should appreciate her honoring their beliefs by wearing one of their revered symbols.
    The walk down to the White River from the Agency took about ten minutes, Josie chattering on about the Bear Dance preparations the whole way. “See that tall fence of sticks and branches?” she asked, pointing to a large circular brush corral between the river and Chief Douglas’s tepees. “The opening to it always faces east, and inside is where the Utes do their Bear Dance. The men and women line up facing each other, and then each line takes two large steps forward and then three small steps back, everyone moving in unison. The men build the enclosure and make all the other preparations, including the feast afterward, to honor the women.”
    Shiloh shot her a quick grin. “It’s nice to see that some men, anyway, like to cook. Our own people could stand to learn that custom.”
    Josie laughed. “Well, don’t go getting your hopes up that Ute men are any different than white men. In the Ute culture, cooking the food is usually the woman’s job. All the men are expected to do is provide the food. And, aside from protecting his family when the need arises, that’s pretty much all