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village,” she pleaded.
    He had never been able to deny her anything, so he gave in easily. “Only if you walk the horse, Morning Song. It will be much too dangerous for you to run the animal,” he cautioned like a fretful mother.
    Morning Song nodded her agreement. The sun was shining as the two of them rode away from the village, and they both felt carefree and light-hearted. Morning Song had packed some dried meat and berry-cakes, and she hoped she could convince Tag to stay away from the village until nightfall. Soon she would have a baby to look after, and while she looked forward to having Tag’s child, she knew their life would change. She would no longer be able to go with him anytime she wanted, since she would be nursing the baby.
    When they crossed the river, Tag pointed out a white-tailed deer to Morning Song. They both halted their horses to watch the doe and her fawn drink from the Milk River.
    Today Tag’s mind was clear. He could see happiness reflected in Morning Song’s dark eyes, and it gladdened his heart. How could he ever have allowed his unrest to come between them? He could be happy the rest of his life in making Morning Song happy. What he had found here among the Blackfoot tribe was a good life, and he didn’t want his bitterness to spoil any part of it. He thought of his unborn baby and realized he had everything a man could ask for. No longer would he allow the past to tug at him. Let his uncle have all he had stolen from him. Most probably it wouldn’t ever bring the man true happiness.
    Tag realized that his uncle would always be watching and waiting for him to return. He could imagine him unable tosleep at night, wondering if he and Joanna would one day appear and show him up for the thief he was. Tag would have to find his revenge in knowing he was causing his uncle many sleepless nights.
    They rode until midmorning before they reached the foot of the mountains. Tag lifted Morning Song from her horse and held her in his arms.
    “Smile and make me happy,” he told her.
    She laughed delightedly as he made a silly face for her. Setting her on her feet, he held her against him. “I want always to see a smile on your pretty face, Morning Song. If it is in my power, I will see that you have much to laugh about.”
    “Have you no more regrets, my husband?”
    “I have no more regrets, my wife.” The baby chose that moment to kick, and Tag felt the movement. “That is our baby telling you that its father will always make the sun shine for its mother.”
    Morning Song looked up into Tag’s face. “Will you mind if this baby is a girl?”
    “No, I will not mind.”
    “My mother says she can tell by the way I am carrying it low, that it will be a girl. I was afraid you would want a son first.”
    “I will want it even if it is a girl, but I have one request. She had better have your pretty face and dark hair.”
    “I want her to have your eyes, Tag. Would she not be beautiful if she had your eyes?”
    At that moment a shot rang out, and Tag turned to look over his shoulder, thinking it would be a hunter beyond the valley. He knew Windhawk would not be pleased if the white man had encroached on Blackfoot lands.
    Turning back to Morning Song, he started to take her arm with the intention of pulling her behind a rock formation until he could find out who had fired the shot. He watched in bewilderment as Morning Song seemed to be gasping for breath. Slowly she crumpled to her knees, and that was when Tag saw the dark red stain on the front of her gown!
    “My God, Morning Song, you have been shot!” he yelled. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her behind the rocks and held her.
    Small whimpering sounds were coming from her throat when she tried to speak. “Don’t talk,” he urged, trying to stem the flow of blood with his hand. In a flash Tag knew that Morning Song was going to die. Tears of grief washed down his face as he watched her lifeblood spill onto a patch of snow, turning