“We are much alike.” An inexplicable bond had formed between them. They both loved the land and respected life. Both had raised their children alone. Both were kindred spirits. “I go to catch trout for breakfast. I would be honored to have you join me.”
Johann’s seamy grin was lopsided. “I’ll fetch my pole.”
* * *
The hall clock struck a few times, but Nikolaus didn’t bother to count. It was early. His grandfather had just left the house. Nikolaus crept stealthily to the doorway of his father’s room.
“C’mon in.”
The voice from within startled him, and he straightened, slowly pushing the door open.
“What’s your name?” the dark-haired boy asked.
“Nikolaus.”
Head and shoulders propped up on stark white-cased pillows, the Indian boy laid down the catalog he’d been thumbing through. “Hi, Nikolaus. I’m Slade Two Feathers.”
“You a real Injun?” Nikolaus edged to the foot of the bed.
“Nah. Just in the show. My grampa’s full-blooded Lakota Sioux, though.”
“My grampa’s German. He can talk it, too. Can your grampa talk Indian?”
“Sure. This your house?”
“Yup. My room’s down there, but there’s a lady with something busted in my bed. I been sleeping down in the parlor with my pa.” He rounded the foot and perched on the bed’s side. “Does your leg hurt?”
“Sometimes,” Slade replied with a shrug. “Mostly today my butt hurts from laying like this.”
Nikolaus widened his eyes at the other boy. “Does your ma let you say that?”
“What?”
“What you said.”
“That my butt hurts?”
“Yeah.”
Slade shook his head with the superior wry humor his one-year age advantage lent him. “’Course she lets me say it. I ain’t a baby.”
Nikolaus’ wide blue eyes sparkled in admiration. “I could sneak in my room and get my horses if you wanna see ’em.”
“Sure.”
“Okay!” He bounced off the bed and turned back before he reached the door. “D’you wanna be friends?”
Slade appeared to consider the possibility. At last he broke the expectant silence. “I got lots of friends, what with the show and all the places I been and all, but I guess I can have one more.”
“Aw’right!” Nikolaus raced through the doorway with a whoop.
* * *
The doctor showed up shortly after noon the next day. Rain Shadow waited anxiously as he tended the patients in the other rooms, proclaiming them well enough to be transferred. Encouraged, she followed him into the bedroom Slade occupied. The man walked with a marked limp, his movements abrupt. After a terse examination, he placed his instruments in his black bag.
“He’s doing fine.” His voice was gentler than his gruff appearance and demeanor led her to imagine.
Encouraged, she asked, “May I move him out to my lodge?”
“Not just yet. That was a nasty break, and the least movement the better for healing.”
Slade would have to stay. Her spirits fell. She’d planned taking him out of the Neubauer’s house as soon as possible. The imposition didn’t rest comfortably. She wanted Slade in the security and familiarity of their lodge.
She met her son’s ebony gaze. He was bored and hurting. His toes had swollen and turned black and blue.
The doctor picked up his bag and left the room without a farewell.
Rain Shadow stared after him, her slim hopes dashed. The trains were leaving for winter quarters in a few days. She and Slade would not be on one. What was this going to do to her plans? Guiltily, she swallowed her selfish concern. Slade’s well-being was most important, of course. She’d speak with Two Feathers about going on without them. She frowned at the unpleasant thought.
This was merely a snag in her tightly woven strategy. She bolstered herself, smoothing Slade’s black hair away from his forehead. She could roll with the punches. She would practice every day. She didn’t need the fancy setups, and as soon as Slade’s leg improved they could take another train. She’d still be ready for an exhibition and contest with Annie in the spring.
It was simply a matter of time.
* * *
That evening Rain Shadow arranged tin plates in a semicircle near the fire, comfortable in her lodge, pleased to have a familiar task to perform. Annette had been relieved to spend time with her own family, and preparing a meal for the Neubauers was small payment for the care and lodging they had provided for Slade. This was her element, something she knew, something she did well and took pride in.
The fact that Rain Shadow was unable to move Slade to their lodge still nettled. She would be obliged to the Neubauers for an uncertain length of time, not only obliged but forced to spend time in their home. She was torn between her discomfort in their house and wanting to be with her son.
Another niggle of concern finally pierced her consciousness. She wanted to be accepted in the world of the whites. How would that ever happen when she was so uncomfortable in the home of these whites? She couldn’t explain her unease. The tense feelings were understandable because the environment was all unfamiliar, but they were disconcerting as well.
The flap parted, and Two Feathers entered.
“Father,” she said in greeting. Her heart grew warm as always by the familiar sight of his craggy face.
“Daughter.” He stepped to the right as was the custom and took his place before the fire. “Slade rests.”
She glanced toward the flap. “The Neubauers?”
“They follow.”
She nodded and retrieved baked sweet potatoes from the coals. A sound outside brought her head up.
“Enter,” Two Feathers welcomed.
Johann appeared first. He was a tall, handsome man like his sons. His skin testified to years of sun and weather, deep smile lines bracketing the corners of his faded blue eyes. At Two Feathers’ gesture, Johann took a seat near the fire.
Anton and his son entered together. Anton wore a fresh white shirt, its sleeves rolled back over his corded forearms. His flaxen hair was damp and combed from his face in sun-streaked waves. He glanced around the inside of the lodge, and his scrutiny brought Rain Shadow’s defenses into play. She couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. In comparison to his home and room, their things no doubt seemed meager to him, but on the move, as they were, they had no need for more. She had never gone hungry or without clothing. Will Cody had great respect for the Indian population, and treated and paid them well. She and Two Feathers had traveled with the Wild West Show since its first performance in Omaha eleven years ago.
Anton’s cobalt blue gaze rested on her, and she had to force herself not to look away. He seemed to take stock of her as he had the lodge.
She’d never had occasion to care what someone else thought of her. She’d always been accepted for her ability as a horsewoman and sharpshooter. Anton Neubauer knew none of those things about her. He saw only a woman. She had to deal with him on a level she wasn’t prepared to examine.
“Sit,” Two Feathers invited.
Leading Nikolaus to a spot near his pa, Anton watched Rain Shadow dish food onto tin plates. Mouth-watering aromas had set his stomach to rumbling as soon as he’d entered the tent. The chickens cooked on a spit over the fire were golden brown. He hadn’t eaten chicken like that since he was a boy.
The young woman worked gracefully, with deft, efficient movements, serving his father first. The doeskin garment she wore lent a soft, feminine appeal to her already pleasing shape. Long fringe at the hem and armholes swayed with her every movement, caressing honey-colored skin. Her knee-high moccasins appeared worn and comfortable, the tops visible only when she knelt and the fringe parted.
“Thank you.” Anton accepted the plate and biscuits she handed him. Nikolaus, echoing his appreciation, sat in awe of his surroundings and the two strangers.
She served her father, the
n took her food and sat near him. The two sat companionably side by side, knees touching, as though they’d shared many meals together. The old man she called her father was unquestionably Indian, handsome in a dark, compelling manner. He carried himself straight, his chin high, with proud mannerisms of a man who knew his worth. His copper-skinned face, wrinkled from years beneath the sun, was thoughtful and deliberate.
Two Feathers was dressed as many of the Indians had been dressed that morning, deerskin pants, a flannel shirt and a vest. A kerchief banded his forehead, holding his flowing black hair in place. Beads and bears’ claws hung from a leather thong around his neck.
Rain Shadow lifted her gaze from her plate and stared at Anton questioningly. He realized he hadn’t tasted the food. Biting into the generous portion of breast she had given him, he chewed and looked up in surprise. He’d assumed she’d cleaned one of the birds that ran loose in their dooryard. “This isn’t chicken!”
“It’s grouse. Don’t you like it?”
“I like it,” he assured her quickly, noting the edge to her voice. “It’s just that I thought—I figured...
“That I stole your chickens?”
“No.” He glanced at her father, then his. Both ate placidly, refusing to look up.
“You assumed they were your chickens,” she said, her chin lifted.
He hadn’t actually given it a whole lot of thought. The chickens were there, they ate ’em. A fact of life. “It wouldn’t have been stealing.”
“They aren’t my chickens.”
The conversation had gotten out of hand, and he wasn’t sure how. “Well, it’s good.” He demonstrated by taking another bite and chewing.
The wild sweet potatoes were tender and delicious, and she served them each a handful of roasted nuts. She must have gone foraging today, and her father had obviously trapped the birds. Briefly, Anton considered telling her he appreciated how much trouble she’d gone to, but her reaction to his last comment silenced him.
After the meal, Two Feathers produced a long pipe from one of the many bundles around the perimeter of the tepee. He tamped tobacco into the bowl and lit it. Johann accepted the pipe in turn.
Anton studied their portable dwelling while Rain Shadow cleared away the remains of the food. Three remarkably large trunks were stowed on one side. Each had a lid, several drawers and locks. Robes and blankets made up one pile. Jugs, baskets and a few pans were stacked neatly alongside lanterns and several wooden crates. Just inside the opening was a sizable stack of firewood, and hanging from the interior was a ragged-edged hide with tiny pictures and symbols spiraling in a line from the center outward. Those he easily recognized as horses, birds and tepees.
“It’s a calendar,” she offered.
He turned his gaze on her. Quickly, she lowered her eyes to her task.
“Smoke?”
Anton studied the pipe Two Feathers offered.
“You won’t insult him if you don’t smoke,” Rain Shadow said softly.
“Can I try it, Gramps?” Nikolaus squirmed into Johann’s lap, his eyes wide with excitement.
“’Fraid not, Toad,” his grandfather replied with a chuckle. “Leastwise not till you grow a few whiskers.”
“Aw.” He frowned, disappointed. “You try it, Papa!”
Not wanting to breach etiquette, Anton accepted the carved pipe despite Rain Shadow’s words. He puffed a few times, decided it wise not to inhale the smoke and passed it back.
Two Feathers wore a craggy smile at the corner of his full mouth.
“Can I be escused now?” Nikolaus asked his father.
“May I be excused,” Anton corrected.
“May I be excused?”
“Yes, you may. Mind your manners and thank...” Anton felt his face grow warm and cursed himself for allowing her to make him feel like a youth. He made himself say her name. “Rain Shadow.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome.” Rain Shadow picked up a plate she had prepared. “If Slade’s awake, he’s hungry.”
Johann and Anton thanked her for the meal. “Any time you’d like a chicken, you’re welcome,” Anton offered, thinking to save them some effort. They had no kitchen, and it was a long way into Butler for supplies. “There are vegetables still in the ground out back of the house, too.”
“We have no need of your chickens, Mr. Neubauer.” Her purple eyes flashed, and she shimmied gracefully past him, fringe slapping against her calves. “We eat what we catch, and it’s good enough for us.”
“I didn’t mean―”
She was gone.
“Well, for...” He stared after her. That woman was as grumpy as an old grizzly with a thorn in its foot. Two Feathers met his startled expression with a knowing gaze.
“I didn’t mean to insult anybody,” Anton said. “I thought it’d be one less worry.”
“I am not offended.” The Indian puffed at his pipe.
Perhaps not, but the woman was definitely offended. Why did she interpret his every word as a gibe? Better for him if he kept his distance. And kept his mouth shut.
He stood and stretched his legs. It had been a long, tiring day, and daylight would beckon before he was ready. “After you say good-night to Slade, we’ll get you to bed, Nikolaus.”
“How ’bout a game of checkers before bed, Pa?”
“It’s pretty late.”
“Just one?”
Anton looked into his son’s vivid blue eyes. He didn’t give the boy the attention he deserved. The thought reminded him that he needed to do something about that.
Tomorrow was another early start, and Anton hadn’t been sleeping soundly. Another night on the sofa in the parlor wasn’t the rest he needed. He wouldn’t sleep that well anyway, so he may as well indulge in a game of checkers. “Okay. Just one.”
“Yippee! ’Night, Gramps.”
Anton watched Nikolaus scamper out. Last night’s plans with Sissy Clanton had been disrupted. He hoped she’d received his message. She’d know he’d been busy with the train, so he wasn’t really worried. Next Saturday night’s barn dance would be time enough to put his search into action. He had to find Nikolaus a mother. The sooner the better.
* * *
Another dawn broke, and Rain Shadow crept silently from the room where Slade slept, so as not to disturb the Neubauers. Nearing the foot of the stairs, a young voice called to her from the parlor. “Where ya goin’?”
She raised a finger to her pursed lips and whispered, “To find breakfast.”
“Oh,” Nikolaus replied disinterestedly as he padded barefoot to meet her at the staircase. “Oatmeal’s in the bin in the pantry.”
“I’ll find my breakfast in the woods.”
The sleepy cast fled from his expression. “You mean huntin’? You going huntin’?”
She nodded, smiling at his eager expression.
“My papa said he’d take me huntin', but he’s been awful busy.”
Casting a wary glance at the boy’s long father sleeping on the short sofa, she motioned for Nikolaus to join her in the kitchen. Anton had been put out of his room and probably wasn’t getting the rest he needed after the strenuous days he put in. All the time he could spare from his work had been taken up with helping the show people, and the least she could do was take Nikolaus hunting so Anton could sleep.
“Get dressed quietly and come with me. You can carry the game back.”
“Aw-right!” Her expression silenced him, and he bounded from the room.
* * *
The echo of rapid gunfire brought Anton off the sofa with a start. He stumbled over the blanket wrapped around his knees and caught his balance. Trying to orient himself, he realized Nikolaus wasn’t on the pile of blankets near the fireplace. Shots rang out again—six in rapid succession.
Tugging on his denims, he ran through the kitchen to grab a rifle, dashed out of the house and down the wooden porch stairs. “Nikolaus!”
Six more shots volleyed across the landscape.
Cocking his head to concentrate with his good ear, he honed in on the direction they’d come from and ran. “Nikolaus!”
“Here, Pa!”
Anton raced toward his son’s voice, cursing silently each time he stepped on a stone or twig. The ground sloped toward a stream, and then flattened into a broad shady area along the bank. There, with the early morning chill pinkening their cheeks, he found his son and the woman, both booted and hatted, their like expressions faintly apologetic.
Dressed in a pair of leather pants and a waist-length fringed jacket, Rain Shadow slid her revolver into the holster, which rode her hip comfortably. Strips of soft leather entwined one long braid. Her wide-brimmed, flat-crowned hat was trimmed by a colorful beaded band.
“Sorry if we woke you,” Rain Shadow said. “We were out in the woods for so long I figured everyone was up by now.”
He didn’t reply.
“Pa, look what Rain Shadow can do! She shoots these acorns right off the log!” Nikolaus ran and placed a row of acorns along a fallen tree from which the bark had long ago decayed, leaving a smooth, silverish log. Several fresh gouges lined the top. He ran back and stood a few feet from her. “Show him!”
“I think that’s enough for this morning.” She turned as if to move away.
Anton gestured with his rifle. “No. Go ahead. I’d like to see.”
She gazed at Anton uneasily, noted the golden stubble he’d grown overnight. His fair hair was mussed, his shirt-tails hung outside his dungarees, and his long, bare toes curled into the dewy morning grass. His mood didn’t appear pleasant.
“All right,” she said, deciding. Quick as lightning, she turned, drew and fired six shots.
Anton’s stunned gaze shot from the gun she automatically reloaded to the bare log. A few more nicks graced the top.
“Good Lord,” he said to no one in particular.
Nikolaus giggled with delight. “Watch this, Pa.”
His boy knelt and picked up a walnut from a small pile at his feet. Swinging his arm in a wide arc, he flung the nut into the air.
Rain Shadow raised the revolver in a flurry of swinging fringe, and the nut exploded into fragments.
The shot echoed in the crisp morning air.
Anton’s clear blue eyes lowered from the cloudless sky and settled on her face. She was accustomed to various reactions from men, the most common the discomfort that a woman shot better than they. Deliberately, he subdued an expression of awe.
Rain Shadow (Dutch Country Brides) Page 4