Yellowstone Heart Song

by Peggy L Henderson

  Walking back to the cabin, she trained her eyes on the ground to avoid looking at him. She was eager to sample her pie, but stopped before she reached the door, and called out to him. “The berry pie is done if you would like some.”

  Daniel rose from his spot by the fire pit and moved towards her. “I have work to do,” he said, his voice tense. “What happened today will not happen again, you have my word. I have never forced a woman, and I don’t intend to start now.”

  She looked up, and his jaw clenched and unclenched. The venom in his voice caused her to take a step back. He tore his eyes away, and strode past her to the woodpile. Aimee expelled the breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. Even in the cool early evening air, her shirt stuck to her skin from the sudden perspiration on her neck and between her breasts.

  Daniel picked up his ax and set a log of wood on the chopping block. He didn’t bother to glance back at her. Aimee stared, watching the play of his taunt back and arm muscles as he repeatedly split large pieces of wood with each blow of his ax. Yanking her eyes away from the sheer masculine display of strength, she turned and opened the cabin door. Maybe it was better that he be Mr. Scowly again.

  She definitely liked the other Daniel from this afternoon better. It had been a pleasant surprise, but she had to put up boundaries, for her own sake, as well as his. His proclamation that he wouldn’t try anything like what he’d done earlier by the river put her mind at ease, even as it nagged at her. She realized it would be all too easy to fall in love with him. She stopped cold at the thought. No, it couldn’t be happening, could it? How could she even think that? Most of the time he acted as if he hated her. How could she be attracted to someone who despised her? Besides, it was crazy to even think this way. A relationship with him could never work. Her time here was limited. She turned and gave him one more quick glance before she disappeared into the dark cabin.

  Aimee cut into the pie, placed a large piece on a tin plate, and headed back outside with it. Daniel still chopped wood, his arms and back glistening with sweat in the early evening sun. She set the bowl on the woodpile for him, and when he didn’t turn to look at her, she wordlessly went back inside to eat by herself. Later, when she returned to clean the dishes, the plate she set out was empty, and Daniel was nowhere to be seen.

  “Well, I guess an empty plate means he liked it.” She shrugged her shoulders, a little disappointed. What had happened to him in the course of a few hours? He had been pleasant all day, and the afternoon swim in the river was most unexpected. Did he think she would be willing to go to bed with him after that? He sure was a complicated man to figure out.

  By the time she was finished putting the food and dishes away, darkness had fallen. She sighed, looking around the cabin. The lantern’s soft glow didn’t give off enough light to see much, let alone do anything else. She would have sat and written in her journal, but it had been a long day. Cracking open the cabin door, Aimee strained her eyes to see. Daniel had let the fire burn down in the yard, and he was gone. She closed the door and crawled under the furs in her bed. With her hands behind her head, she stared at the ceiling. Seconds later, she rolled over on her side, beating her pillow. Visions of Daniel coming out of the river prevented sleep.

  ******

  Daniel walked the familiar path along the riverbank, deep in thought. He was angry with himself for letting his feelings get out of control. He had been trying to fight this crazy attraction to this woman from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Sometimes the desire to just follow Elk Runner’s advice and take her to his bed became so strong, it caused him physical pain.

  She was a mystery he couldn’t figure out. One moment, she was sure and confident in herself, the next she acted like a complete novice. He only half-understood many of the things she said, but it intrigued him. Of all the women he had known, Indian or white, he had never been around a more beautiful or spirited woman. She had a zest for life and adventure, and didn’t appear to be afraid of much. Except for perhaps of him, especially after what he had done this afternoon.

  He frowned. He had been almost sure he saw desire in her eyes before he tossed her in the river. Had it been so long that he couldn’t read the signs on a woman’s face? He didn’t even know what had come over him to do such a thing. She sure had enjoyed the game, though, or so it seemed. Until his foolish attempt at kissing her.

  He stared at the waters of the Madison. Driftwood and debris bobbed lazily in the gentle waves. He bent and picked up a large stick, and with a loud roar, threw it far out into the river. Seeing the horrified look on Aimee’s face in the cabin had conjured up painful memories from the past. Just because she was a white woman didn’t mean she was like Emma. He had to keep reminding himself of that. Aimee had absolutely nothing in common with her. Except that she lies! Why did she refuse to tell him the truth about how she came to these mountains?

  He still didn’t know what he should do with her. His biggest dilemma, of course, was how to get her the hell out of the mountains. This was no place for a white woman. The logical thing was to take her back to St. Louis, but it was a long journey, and he couldn’t spare to be away that long. He had to prepare for winter. One would go to St Louis in the summer with their fur cache to trade, while the other stayed behind and made preparations for the upcoming trapping season and the harsh winters in these mountains. This was how his father and he survived. If a man wasn’t ready for winter here, he would die.

  Aimee seemed to be oblivious to all the dangers of this harsh land. All the more reason to get her away from here. He couldn’t even let himself think about her getting hurt, or worse. What had he been thinking when he took her up on her challenge to show her the mountains and teach her things? It was only encouraging her. But while she was here, she needed to know how to survive. Daniel’s mind swung like a pendulum from one side of the argument to the other. In the end, he was as lost for what to do as when he started his walk.

  ******

  Sunlight filtered into the cabin through the burlap covering the open window, casting a warm glow on her bed. Aimee pulled the covers back, and swung her legs over the sides of the mattress. She quickly dressed, and opened the cabin door. Daniel appeared to be gone again. She couldn’t be sure if he’d been gone all night, or had left early in the morning. The buffalo robe he slept on near the fire pit outside looked undisturbed.

  Where the hell did he go this time? She chewed her nails and scanned the river for any sign of him . The sun was already well above the mountains framing the valley. She’d been eager for him to take her out again today. As the early morning dragged on, Aimee grew more restless. She’d already tidied up the cabin. She sat outside, and wrote in her journal for a while, but couldn’t concentrate as her irritation grew.

  Why can’t he tell me he’s going to be gone? I’m not sitting around here all day. My foot feels fine. She stared at the Firehole River in the distance, an idea forming in her mind. She didn’t need him to take her to a geyser basin. She could find her own way. It couldn’t be more than a seven or eight mile hike to one of the geyser basins south of here. All she had to do was follow the river.

  Her mind made up, Aimee packed her backpack. She grabbed her sweater off the foot of the bed, along with a blanket in case of cooler weather. She didn’t want to deal with hypothermia again. She was confident she could make the trip in one day, but to be on the safe side, she wanted something to keep her warm if she had to set up camp somewhere.

  She double-checked her pack for her flint so she could start a fire. I’m going to be more prepared this time. She smiled in satisfaction, wrapping some meat and leftover bread in cloth. Several water bags hung on the wall by the door. Without a second thought, she grabbed one and hung it around her neck. Daniel wouldn’t miss it. He always carried one with him, so these were spares. A hunting knife hung next to the water bags, and purely on impulse she pulled it off the wall, too, and stuffed it in her pack. She was about to slip into her moccasins, then changed her min
d and pulled her hiking boots out from under the bed. They would give her better ankle support, she reasoned.

  “I bet he’s going to be mighty ticked off when I’m not here,” she said aloud, a smile on her face. She shrugged it off. He doesn’t have the right to tell me what I can and can’t do, and besides, he always goes off without telling me. She was almost out the door, when another thought struck. I guess I could leave him a note. At least he’ll know I’ll be back. Zach said he went to school back east, so I’ll assume he can read.

  She almost tore a piece of paper out of her journal, and then thought better of it. She found a piece of aspen bark instead, and rummaged through her pack for a pencil. She scribbled a few lines saying she had gone for a hike heading south, and would be back later in the day. She left the note on the table in the cabin.

  *****

  It was a beautiful warm summer day. The fresh mountain air, the slight breeze, and her beautiful surroundings put her in a good mood. If Daniel had accompanied her, it would have been a better trip, but she wasn’t going to dwell on his constant mood swings. And just the few lessons she had received from him the day before gave her the confidence needed to handle this trip on her own.

  She forded the Gibbon River at a shallow point, and kept the Firehole to her right. She knew the river cut through the mountains for a few miles, and decided she didn’t want to end up hanging off a cliff again, so she stayed in the valley to the east, following some animal trails heading south. Without the familiar two-lane highway that cut through this forest in her time, the going was slower than she expected, and she had to stop to get her bearings several times. It could be quite disorienting traveling though such dense forests, and she relied heavily on her compass. You’re not going to get lost. Just stay to the west, and you’ll find the river. Would Daniel try to find her if she disappeared for days?

  After several hours of walking over and around downed trees, a wide smile spread across her face. The sounds of rushing water close by told her she’d met up with the Firehole River again, and the going got easier as she followed along its banks. Soon, the forest opened up to meadowlands, and Aimee could see the first plumes of steam in the distance, made by countless geysers and hot springs from the lower geyser basins. She would love to go all the way to Old Faithful. What a sight that would be! No boardwalks, no thousands of people crowding around to see the famous geyser erupt. She would be the only one there. She conceded, however, that it was more than a one-day hike from here. Other than a short break for a snack, she continued along the banks of the river. It was now an easy flat walk to the geyser basin.

  She made a large loop around a group of bison, and kept her eyes on the ground, ever watchful not to step in puddles. Even a harmless-looking water puddle could open the ground and scald her badly if she wasn’t careful. The earth’s crust in this area was very thin, and she didn’t have modern-day boardwalks to keep her safe. She felt reasonably sure that if she stayed where there were a lot of bison tracks, she would be safe. If the ground could hold a one-ton bison, surely it would hold her.

  *****

  “Goddamn that stubborn fool of a woman!” Daniel pounded his fist on the table when he found her message. He had gone out early to scout the area, thinking about what he wanted to show Aimee today. He had finally come to the conclusion that she did need to know certain things, and keeping her close by would hopefully keep her safe as well. He returned to his cabin later than he had anticipated, having to make a detour around a large bison herd.

  Taking several calming breaths, an uneasy feeling crept up his spine. What trouble would she get herself in now? Her message said she was heading south. Yesterday she had asked to see the boiling pools and mud. What had she called it? He couldn’t remember the words she used. Was it too much of a coincidence that south of here were many such pools and shooting water? Daniel mentally shook his head. He had found her northeast of his cabin. It was impossible for her to know that heading south would lead her directly to these hot pools.

  He hastily grabbed some supplies and headed out. It didn’t take him long to pick up her trail. She’d crossed the Little Buffalo River. Squatting, he touched one of her foot prints made by her odd boots. Why would she not wear her moccasins? Some rocks had scuffmarks on them, and the grasses were still bent. He guessed she must have a couple of hours’ head start on him. God! The woman left a trail any blind man could follow! She sure made it easy for him, and he was confident he could make up her head start rather quickly.

  He realized how she was once again following the river, this time the one the Shoshoni called the Burning River. Again, he had to shake off the coincidence that by following this river, she would find her hot water pools.

  He bent down to examine her footprints along the banks of a small tributary that flowed into the Burning River. She must have stopped here to rest, perhaps eat something. Her boots had scuffed some lichen off a large boulder. A squirrel ran past him, chatting loudly, and fled into its’ hole in the ground. Some grasses were bent a short distance away, and the squirrel hole looked as if someone had stepped on it recently. The squirrel hadn’t yet repaired the damages. Examining the spot more closely, he counted the tracks of several pairs of moccasins, perhaps five or six. They could have only been made by Blackfoot. The Shoshoni didn’t frequent this particular area this time of year.

  Daniel tensed. He scrutinized the tracks. The disturbed earth from Aimee’s prints were still moist in some places, whereas these prints were dry. They had come across this area shortly before Aimee. She had to be behind them if everyone followed their present course, but for how long? An uneasy feeling of apprehension crept up his spine, increasing his heart rate. Out of habit, Daniel checked his rifle to make sure it was loaded and ready to fire. He tucked it securely under his arm, then hurried off at a fast jog, following Aimee’s tracks, but keeping a close eye on the set of Blackfoot tracks as well.

  *****

  Aimee reached her destination, an area that would be known in her time as Midway Geyser Basin. It contained the world’s largest hot spring – Grand Prismatic Spring. Excitement built in her, and she sped up. The thought that she would be one of the first white people to see this natural wonder sent a chill down her spine. All she had to do was find a place to ford the river. She stared at the wide expanse of the water, and realized she should have crossed further back. Shallow enough that she wouldn’t have to swim, she guessed the water would definitely come up past her waist. At least the water would be warm. She gazed across the river at the steep bank. Unlike this side of the river with its lush grasses, the other side was devoid of most vegetation, and appeared mostly gray, almost white in color, and was shrouded by gusts of steam – a telltale sign of the geothermal activity there.

  She watched the steaming hot water runoff from Excelsior Geyser plunge loudly down the embankment into the Firehole. Brilliant colors of yellow and orange framed the runoffs, created by the heat-loving bacteria that lived in the geysers. She shielded her eyes with her hand, and watched this wondrous display of nature’s awesome forces. Without sunglasses, the colors were almost blinding against the contrast of the bright gray earth. There is so much more runoff here than what I remember.

  An uneasy thought entered her mind. While Excelsior was a dormant crater in her time, in the 1800’s, it was a very active geyser. Hadn’t she read that it had shot water over 300 feet into the air during eruptions? What if it erupted now, while she was here? As awesome as such a sight would be, she didn’t relish the notion of being sprayed with 200 degrees hot water.

  She leaned her backpack against a tree, contemplating what she should do. Should she chance it and find a place to cross, or abandon her idea altogether? If she did cross, should she take off her clothing, or just let it get wet. She would dry quick enough, she reasoned, but also knew the risk of hypothermia in this mountain climate.

  Her peripheral vision caught movement in the trees further downriver. Or had she imagined it? Her heart quickened
with the thought that it might be a bear. She inched closer to a tree and steadied herself. Adrenaline flooded her system, and her legs turned to rubber. Peering out from behind her hiding spot, she scanned the trees where she thought she’d seen movement. She caught a flash of tan behind a group of sapling lodgepoles. Several figures moved like stealth commandos through the forest. Another wave of adrenaline shot through her, and her heart raced. All this time, she was concerned about bears. She never considered the Indians who inhabited this area.

  She didn’t dare move out from behind the tree. It didn’t appear as if those Indians had noticed her presence. They continued moving in the opposite direction. She clamped her hand over her mouth, sure that her breathing was so loud she’d be heard. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, and contemplated what to do. She remembered Daniel telling her that Blackfoot Indians were not friendly, but the Shoshoni were. But she had no idea how to tell one Indian from another.

  Her pack sat a few feet away from her, and she reached for it tentatively, when a large hand clamped down over her mouth. She was pulled roughly against a solid figure behind her. For a split second, she thought she would faint from shock. Then she started to fight. She squirmed to break free of the iron grip her captor had on her. The more she struggled, the tighter his hold became around her waist. She bit down on the hand covering her mouth. Nothing deterred him. The man dragged her silently behind a thick strand of young lodgepole pines. She dug her boots into the ground. Aimee thought her heart was going to pound right out of her throat. She was no match for him. First a bear, and now this!

  The man stopped dragging her. Every inch of her backside was pressed against a solid wall of muscle. The pressure of his hand over her mouth increased, forcing her to lean her head back against his chest.