by West, Everly
“I am John Grey Wolf,” the brave said. “Fast Wolf’s father. He came to me and reported what happened, told me you were in trouble.”
Clint’s brow knit in confusion. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to Tildie, who appeared as confused as he felt, then back to John Grey Wolf. Cautiously, he said, “I am Clint Washington and this is Tildie Masterson. Our friend, Simon Guthrie, was shot in the leg, like your son saw.”
John Grey Wolf nodded, then narrowed his eyes as he studied Simon. “He looks in a bad way. My wife has great knowledge of medicine from her father. You should come with me so she can heal him.”
Clint’s brow rose as far as it could go. He pivoted to Tildie to share his surprise and to silently ask what she thought. The last thing he’d expected at the sight of a charging brave was an offer for medical help.
Tildie answered his questioning look with a shrug. “Simon does need a doctor,” she said in a low voice. “We don’t really have enough water to clean his wound effectively, and if she has actual medicine to treat him with….”
“My home is not far,” John Grey Wolf said.
The depth of genuine concern in the man’s eyes was still so much at odds with everything Clint had ever heard about “savage Indians” that it made his nerves bristle. But rumors and impressions formed on nothing but stories were often wrong, and he didn’t have a sense that John Grey Wolf was offering help only to trick him. The man seemed entirely genuine.
He let out a breath, making a final decision to trust the only offer of help they had, an offer they desperately needed. “How far is it?” he asked, moving to the back of the wagon and hopping down.
“Not far,” John Grey Wolf said. He pointed toward the eastern horizon. “This is the border of the reservation. Our home is just inside the boundary, that way.”
“We’ll follow you,” Clint said, nodding to John Grey Wolf then walking around to the front of the wagon. He climbed into the driver’s seat and set about turning the wagon around.
It took careful maneuvering to change directions, especially with Mason’s two remaining horses tied to the back of the wagon and Simon still in pain in the wagon bed. Tildie crouched by his side again and did her best to make him comfortable while Clint handled his horses. Before too long, they were following John Grey Wolf back up the road as the sun sank farther in the west.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tildie whispered as she came to stand behind Clint in the wagon bed.
“We don’t have much of a choice,” Clint whispered back. “But if it helps, I feel like we can trust this man.” He nodded ahead of them to John Grey Wolf.
“I think I trust him too,” Tildie said. “But we’re going in the wrong direction. I feel like we need to get home as soon as possible and explain what happened to Mason.”
“You’re not wrong,” Clint sighed, feeling like he didn’t have much choice in the matter.
“And besides,” Tildie went on. “I don’t know much about how reservations work, but aren’t Indians supposed to stay on them? And don’t they live in communities more near the center of the reservation?”
Clint shrugged. “I don’t know. Either way, something tells me John Grey Wolf isn’t like most of his kind.”
Tildie hummed in agreement. “He seems educated.”
Clint nodded in agreement, but they didn’t say much else. The sun kept sinking, and as darkness closed in, Clint’s feeling that everything had gone wrong intensified. He should have been able to keep Tildie safe on a simple errand like the one they were on. He should have been able to bring back all of Mason’s horses without incident. He should have been able to tell that Jay was a crook from the start.
Guilt was eating away at him by the time they approached a large teepee set up near a small, gurgling stream. Darkness had all but fallen, but by the light of a campfire, Clint could see two women cooking over the fire, a few frames with skins stretching, and several children running, laughing, and playing. The domesticity of the scene was yet another jarring shock of the unexpected.
John Grey Wolf called out something in his native language and the two women at the fire stood. The children dropped their games and rushed to greet them. John Grey Wolf climbed down from his horse to greet the children. He rested his hand on the head of a particularly fierce-looking boy and turned to Clint and Tildie.
“This is my son, Fast Wolf, who saw you and ran to tell me,” he said.
From his seat on the wagon, Clint nodded to the boy. “Much obliged,” he said.
The boy stared at him for a moment before running off. He wore trousers and a shirt instead of native dress. The women were dressed in simple calico dresses as well. The camp, although happy, had a strange feeling of not belonging to it.
Clint didn’t have time to contemplate it further. The older of the two women at the fire came forward, walking straight past Clint to peer into the back of the wagon. She spoke to Tildie as she said, “Is this the injured man?” Like John Grey Wolf, her English was surprisingly good.
“He was shot in the leg,” Tildie said, inviting the woman around to the back of the wagon without hesitation.
“I’m fine,” Simon said in a weak voice. “You don’t have to go through all this trouble.”
The Indian woman humphed as though Simon didn’t know what he was talking about. “Bring him out of the wagon and over to the fire. I’ll see what I can do.”
It was easier to carry Simon out of the wagon than it had been to get him in, since John Grey Wolf was there to help Clint. Simon had regained a bit of his strength, but Clint still worried over how pale and wobbly his friend was. They were able to get him to the fire, though, and the Indian woman—who John Grey Wolf introduced as White Cloud—set to work examining and cleaning Simon’s wound. There was nothing for Clint and Tildie to do from there but to join John Grey Wolf at the fire, where the younger woman—who he introduced as his oldest daughter, Willow Woman—gave them food. Clint couldn’t remember ever tasting anything as good as the simple fare she served them.
“This fight,” John Grey Wolf said as he ate with them at the fire. “What was the cause?”
Clint sighed, exhaustion pressing down on him as he thought about the whole thing again. “I was sent on a mission by a friend in Laramie to fetch five horses from Montana.”
John Grey Wolf looked surprised, glanced to where Fast Wolf and some of the older children were tending to Mason’s horses, then looked back to Clint. “Five horses?”
Clint shook his head. “The men you saw stole three of them.”
Willow Woman came to sit next to her father and whispered something in his ear. John Grey Wolf turned to her and said something in their native language.
Clint waited until they were both paying attention to him again before going on. “Jay, one of those men, has been trouble from the start. He’s acted like a—” He stopped and let out a breath, wondering why he was spilling out all his troubles to a man he’d just met, a man who had nothing in common with him.
“He took a fancy to me,” Tildie picked up the story with a dark frown. “But I wasn’t having any of it.”
John Grey Wolf’s mouth twitched into a grin and he translated Tildie’s words for his daughter. She said something to him in return, and John Grey Wolf said, “Willow Woman says she knows how pesky men can be when they want what another man has.” He paused, then continued with, “We have made camp here because one of the soldiers guarding the main settlement does not respect my daughter’s mourning period.”
That was all John Grey Wolf had to say. Clint suddenly understood so much about the lives John Grey Wolf and his family, and too many like them, were living. It humbled him that someone in that position would come to his rescue without hesitation. He immediately wanted to find a way to repay the man and his wife, assuming White Cloud could help Simon. They seemed to be doing all right just outside the circle of the campfire. Simon was even sitting up and drinking something that made him wince.
T
he familiarity of the scene gave Clint the confidence to reveal things he wouldn’t have. “Tildie and I were planning to marry when we get back to Laramie,” he said. “But now I’m not so sure.” He glanced apologetically to Tildie, who reached over and took his hand. All the while, John Grey Wolf translated in a low voice for his daughter. “It was my fault Jay ran off with the horses, and I intend to pay the man I fetched them for to make up for their loss. But it’ll mean selling my business, which means Tildie and I will have to wait.”
“But not forever,” Tildie said, squeezing his hand.
Clint wished he could be as confident.
Willow Woman said something in a low voice to her father, then looked at Clint and Tildie with sad, sympathetic eyes. John Grey Wolf smiled wistfully.
“My daughter is moved by your story,” he said. “She loved her husband, but he was killed by the soldiers. She does not want to see lovers kept apart.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tildie said.
When John Grey Wolf translated, Willow Woman glanced down, her shoulders hunching.
“These men who took your horses,” John Grey Wolf said, shifting as he sat and leaning closer to Clint. “Why did they do it? For revenge against you or for money?”
Clint shrugged. “I suppose it could be both. Those horses are worth a lot of money.”
John Grey Wolf grunted and nodded as if he were considering the situation. “They are heading south, toward Laramie.”
Clint’s brow shot up. “How do you know that?”
“I saw them as I rode out to see if you needed help.”
“They were headed east when they rode away from us,” Clint said.
“That may be, but they changed direction and headed south very soon,” John Grey Wolf said with certainty.
“That still doesn’t mean they’re headed for Laramie,” Tildie said. “They could change direction again at any moment.”
John Grey Wolf nodded as if considering her words. “This land is wide open. The white man is coming like locusts in the wind, but they are not here yet. These men who stole your horses are either riding into nothing for their own reasons or they are returning home for another purpose.”
“But why would they just ride on back to Laramie?” Clint asked. “They have a small fortune in their grasp. They could sell those horses and make enough to start new lives.”
Willow Woman said something to John Grey Wolf—who was still translating everything being said. John Grey Wolf nodded, then turned back to Clint. “She says that men often seek to humiliate their rivals, that it means more than riches to them.”
Beside Clint, Tildie frowned. “Do you think Jay and Joe could be headed back to Laramie with the horses so that they could humiliate you somehow?”
Clint rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. A notion struck him that tied his stomach into knots. “I wonder if they’re bold enough to go to Mason straight off and to tell him that we were the ones who made off with the horses, not him.”
Tildie’s eyes went wide. “Do you think he would try to tell people we ran away together and that we’re the ones hoping to sell the horses to finance a life together?”
“Could be,” Clint grumbled.
Tildie shook her head, sitting straighter. “No, that’s ridiculous. People in town know me, know us. They know neither of us would do something like that.”
Clint shrugged. “Maybe, but neither of us are exactly the favorites of the Ladies Club. Folks know how my business is hanging on by a thread.”
“But they also know you’re a good person,” Tildie argued.
“They might know, but Jay doesn’t see it that way. He might just be stupid enough to think he could pull off a con like that.”
“He might think Mason would give him some sort of reward money or even the money he was going to pay you for fetching the horses,” Tildie agreed. “And he might run off with that before we can get home.”
“That’s a lot of mights and maybes,” Clint said, so frustrated it was giving him a headache.
White Cloud rose from tending to Simon and came over to the fire. “It was a good thing you brought him to me,” she said. “His wound was in bad shape, but I have cleaned and dressed it.”
“Will he be all right?” Clint asked.
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Simon said, equal amounts of humor and pain in his voice as he struggled to stand and limp over to the fire. Clint leapt up to help him seat himself in front of the fire. Willow Woman rushed to bring him food. “I keep telling you, I’m all right,” Simon said with grateful looks for everyone.
It was clear to Clint that he easily could have died if not for John Grey Wolf and White Cloud’s help. He might still be in danger, but at least he was in a safe place with people who could watch out for him.
The help, the food, and the feeling that they were among friends—as much of a surprise as that was—encouraged Clint. “If Jay really is planning to get to Mason with those three horses before we get home, then we need to move, and fast.”
“But how are we supposed to get back to Laramie before he does?” Tildie asked. “And that’s assuming he’s actually going home and that we aren’t making up the whole scenario in our heads.”
“I know hidden paths through this land,” John Grey Wolf said. “Paths that would take you home sooner.”
“Could you draw us a map of some sort?” Clint asked.
John Grey Wolf shook his head. “I will lead you,” he said.
“I can’t ask you to risk trouble by leaving the reservation,” Clint said. “Aren’t the consequences steep if you’re caught where you shouldn’t be?”
“If I’m caught,” John Grey Wolf said with a proud grin.
“But what about Simon,” Tildie said.
“What about me?” Simon asked, sounding better after eating.
“Well, we can’t travel fast with you in the wagon,” Tildie said, looking sheepish as she did.
“Leave your wagon behind,” John Grey Wolf suggested. “Your injured friend can bring it home when he is well. You and I will ride through the hidden paths to Laramie before the thieves get there.”
“I still don’t know if I can ask you to do that,” Clint said.
John Grey Wolf was silent for a moment, staring into the fire. “When I was a younger man, my life was in danger. I was injured and left for dead. But a missionary man, Rev. Johns, and his wife, found me. They nursed me back to health, taught me to read and write, and gave me my English name. Because of their care, I have been able to advocate for my people as our world has changed. I think they would like for me to help others the way they have helped me.”
Clint smiled at the short, heartwarming story. He had the feeling John Grey Wolf was a man of few words, but he said so much with the words he spoke.
“All right,” he said with a sigh that wasn’t as reluctant as it would have been a few minutes earlier. “If you feel like it would be good to help us get back to Laramie before Jay and Joe, then we will gladly accept your help.”
And with any luck, they would be able to expose Jay for the liar and thief and near-murderer that he was and bring him to justice.
Chapter 9
Tildie was more than ready to head back to Laramie after a night spent as guests in John Grey Wolf’s teepee. Not because she felt any sort of fear about the unusual accommodation or their new friends. She’d never slept in a teepee before or sat around a campfire telling stories with an Indian brave and his family. That part was thrilling.
What had her ready to pack up the barest of necessities, mount one of Mason’s horses, and start off along John Grey Wolf’s hidden paths through the prairie was the thought that they could reach Laramie before Jay and best him at whatever nefarious game he was playing.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” she asked Simon as White Cloud and Willow Woman loaded their saddlebags with food for the journey. “How is your leg this morning?”
“Much better,” Sim
on said, sounding surprised. “I need to ask White Cloud what medicine she put into the poultice she has packed on my leg.”
Tildie smiled, reassured that leaving Simon behind was a good idea. “If she’ll tell you,” she said. “If I were a magical medicine woman like she is, I wouldn’t go revealing all my secrets so readily.”
White Cloud, who was close enough to overhear their conversation, laughed. “It’s not magic, it’s understanding the gifts of the earth.”
Tildie smiled gratefully at her. “That sounds like magic to me.”
“Whatever it is,” Simon said, pushing himself to stand from where he had been sitting in front of the teepee and limping toward the horses as Clint and John Grey Wolf mounted, “it has me feeling far better than I ever would have imagined.” He nodded to John Grey Wolf. “I’ll keep an eye on your family for you until you return. You can count on me.”
“You really can,” Tildie assured both John Grey Wolf and White Cloud. And Willow Woman, who had kept her distance from Simon as though she distrusted all white men. Tildie would have loved to stay behind and befriend the timid young woman. She hoped that someday she would be able to come back, that she would find a way to thank her new friends for their help.
They set out into the prairie in what seemed like a random direction to Tildie. Without the wagon, they were able to make excellent time. Mason’s horses were young and fresh and easily kept up with John Grey Wolf’s sturdy gelding. The weather had improved and the sun came out. Tildie was grateful that she hadn’t lost her wide-brimmed hat in the wind the day before.
“If it weren’t for Jay and his treachery and knowing what’s ahead of us,” Tildie said with a smile as she rode by Clint’s side, “I would say this is a lovely way to spend a day.”
Clint laughed, adjusting his hat to shield his already weathered face from the sun. “Any day that I get to spend with you is a lovely day,” he said.
Warm, fuzzy feelings filled Tildie’s insides. It was a good thing John Grey Wolf was with them, otherwise she would have been sorely tempted to break every rule of propriety there was where Clint was concerned. When they made camp that night beside a small stream, it was all she could do not to lay out her bedroll right beside his. She settled for sitting close beside him at the campfire as they ate the meal White Cloud had prepared for them. But for whatever reason, even though their conversation was practically non-existent, Tildie could barely stop herself from giggling at every tiny move or flirty expression Clint made.