Standing Elk studied him again in the firelight, the way he had that very first night, and this time there was no weighing left in his expression, only something settled and certain. His blessing, he made clear, would be given gladly should his daughter ever choose to ask for it. Though he suspected, watching the two of them together these past days, the asking would not take her very long. The next morning, believing his part in the village's troubles was finally settled, Gideon saddled his horse once more to make the long ride home. He thanked Standing Elk warmly for his continued friendship and offered his quiet goodbyes to the villagers gathered to see him off a second time, most of them wearing warmer, more familiar smiles now than they had the first morning he ever climbed down from his wagon at the edge of their canyon.
The grandmother who had raised Sikya pressed a small pouch of dried herbs into his good hand, and through a passing scout's translation, invited him to come back whenever the mood struck him, invitation or none. Gideon meant it fully when he promised he would. And as he reached the edge of the settlement, he heard quick, light footsteps coming up fast behind him through the dust. He turned and found Sikya walking toward him with a calm, steady confidence that had not been there the very first evening they met beside that fire. "His kindness," she confided softly, "had changed the whole shape of how she saw her own future stretching out ahead of her.
You were the first man who accepted my answer before he ever asked the question. You gave me my freedom before you ever hoped for my love." Gideon stood there speechless for a long moment, unsure how any man was meant to properly answer words like those. Then Sikya reached for his hand and confided that somewhere in the months since their first meeting beside her father's fire, her heart had gently chosen a path she had never once expected to walk in her whole life. Love worth having, she explained, could never grow out of expectation or obligation.
It had to be earned slowly, patiently, through trust freely given. Exactly the way he had given his trust to her without ever once asking for anything back in return. Looking steadily into his eyes, she wondered whether he would build a life beside her, truly beside her, if she chose to leave her village behind and share his ranch and his always open door with him instead. Gideon accepted before she had even fully finished the question, his voice thick with an emotion he did not try very hard to hide, promising that every decision in their shared life together, large or small, would always belong equally to both of them, never to him alone. Standing Elk and the whole gathered village watched with quiet, unmistakable pride as the two of them embraced beneath the climbing morning sun.