Dance on the Wind

by Brenda Jernigan

  Thunder laughed harshly. “Because kissing is only the beginning. There are other things I could teach you, but that job will be for your future husband. You do remember him?” He hated the thought of another man teaching Brandy, touching her, and making her his wife. But what could he do? She’d chosen before she’d met him, and when they reached the fort he would not stay. He would be out of Brandy’s life forever.

  Brandy’s face grew warm. A rush of guilt washed over her. The fact was, she hadn’t given her future husband the first thought. “I—I forgot about him,” she said in a small voice. She tried to feel ashamed, but she longed for Thunder’s touch.

  “Come, I will help you to your room so you’ll not disturb your bandages,” Thunder said in a little gruffer tone than he should have. Reality once again had returned, and he remembered that he was different. Brandy needed to marry her own kind.

  In her room, Brandy sat on the bed while Thunder pulled off her shoes. “Will you be all right now?”

  “Can you unbutton my gown?” Brandy held up her bandaged hands. “My fingers are too clumsy and the buttons too small.”

  Thunder groaned. He wasn’t made of stone. But he knew there was no way she could do it with her hands bandaged. He sat down beside her and unfastened the garment, then quickly dropped his hands to his sides.

  “Thank you for taking care of my hands, and thank you for the kiss. I’ve never been kissed before,” she whispered in a tiny voice.

  Thunder looked at her. He wasn’t quite sure he’d ever felt like this when kissing anyone else. Hunger burned deep within him. And for the first time, he found he longed for the white world and this white woman.

  He pushed himself up and left the room.

  It was going to be a long journey

  11

  The sun was just coming up over the horizon as Thunder walked across the courtyard, casting just enough light so he could see where he was going. He’d already gotten Billy up.

  Brandy was next.

  Impatient to be on his way, he knocked on Brandy’s bedroom door.

  No answer.

  Frowning, Thunder opened the door. Just as he’d expected, she lay curled up on her side, sleeping like a baby. Then he smiled. It didn’t appear that she had moved all night. As he drew closer he noticed her thick, dark lashes resting on her creamy cheeks. Her lips were parted slightly, and she appeared not to have a care in the world.

  If only life were that simple.

  “Get up, Brandy.”

  She didn’t move.

  Thunder shook her shoulder after he still hadn’t gotten a response.

  “Go away,” Brandy mumbled.

  “Not on your life. Get up!” Thunder ordered. He threw off the cover and swung her feet around to the edge of the mattress, then pulled her to a sitting position.

  Brandy groaned. “Please. I’m so sore,” she complained, but didn’t open her eyes. “Why are you torturing me?”

  “Either get up now, or I will leave you behind. I do not have time to be your keeper,” he said curtly, but added in a gentler tone, “How are your hands?”

  “Hmmm?” she said sleepily.

  “Your hands?” When she didn’t move, Thunder swore, “Oh hell, I feel like I’m talking to a child.” He took off the bandages and looked. Her fingers didn’t appear as angry-red as they had yesterday. “Are they sore?”

  Brandy blew a stray piece of hair out of her face. She seemed more awake now. “A little, but they are so much better than last night. Thank you.” She gave him a half-smile. “Are the children ready?”

  He noticed she was becoming alert. “Billy’s getting them, and I hope they are moving faster than you are.” Thunder slipped her last shoe on, knowing her fingers would be very stiff, and her face was still very red. “Come, stand” He pulled her to her feet.

  “I don’t have any clothes on,” she protested.

  Thunder looked down at her white chemise and saw how her firm, round breasts pushed against the thin material. “I can see that,” he finally said his gaze returning to her sweet-tasting mouth. He’d been attracted to her since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her ... an attraction that needed to stop.

  She crossed her arms across her breasts. “Well, you shouldn’t be looking. Hand me that cream-colored dress, and I’ll put it on, but you must look away.”

  Thunder sighed as he retrieved the garment off a peg and handed it to her. Then he turned his back to her.

  After a few moments, she said, “You can turn around but you’ll have to button my blouse.”

  God, he must be made of iron, Thunder thought as he moved to her. Carefully, he buttoned the front of her dress, his fingers brushing her creamy skin more than once. Every time he fastened another button his temperature rose a notch. After all, he was only flesh and blood.

  “What about my hair?”

  “You are a lot of trouble,” he grumbled, his voice holding a note of impatience. “Turn around.” Swiftly, he parted her hair in three sections and began braiding.

  “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “When I was small, I braided my mother’s hair.”

  Brandy saw the heart-rending tenderness in his eyes when he spoke of his mother. It reminded her of the way he’d looked at her last night. Had the kiss meant anything to him? Suddenly, she felt awkward. “Well, you are very good at it.” She started to leave, but he stopped her.

  “One more thing,” Thunder said as he strolled to the peg and retrieved a bonnet. He placed it on her head and tied the ribbons under her chin. “Now, you are ready.”

  She frowned at him for making her feel like a child. Is that the way he really saw her? Obviously, he wasn’t thinking about their kiss. It had probably meant nothing to him. Hadn’t he promised it would never happen again?

  Thunder held open the door, and Brandy stepped outside. In another moment, they were at the wagon.

  Everyone was there. Scott and Billy sat in the driver’s seat and the girls looked out the back.

  “See? I told you she’d never get up on time Mary jeered.

  Brandy ignored her and climbed into the back of the wagon with the girls.

  Thunder fell in behind the wagon as Billy clucked the animals into motion. He herded the extra horses and a milk cow. Brandy admired the way Thunder looked this morning. He wore buckskin britches, cavalry boots, and a light blue shirt which made his blue eyes sparkle. Again, she thought of their kiss last night. She wasn’t sure that it meant anything, but the kiss had been wonderful. Much more than she could ever imagine a kiss could be.

  As they went through the gate for the last time, Brandy watched as her home grew smaller. She sighed, not knowing what the future would bring. She’d been surrounded by those walls for as long as she could remember. She just prayed Sam was a good man and that he would want a ready-made family. And if he didn’t? Well, she refused to think of that problem just now.

  Later . . . she’d think of it later.

  * * *

  The other wagons were lined up and ready to leave when Brandy’s rig finally reached them They took their position in the back of the line and waited for the signal from Ward to move out.

  “See you later, kid,” Thunder said to Billy before riding around to the back of the wagon. “To save the animals, the wagon must be kept as light as possible, so everyone but Amy and Scott will have to walk.”

  “What!” Mary screeched.

  Brandy was surprised, too, but said nothing except, “Let’s go, girls.”

  “I don’t mind walking, Thunder.” Scott scrambled from the back. “Isn’t that what a brave would do?”

  “Yes, it is.” Thunder nodded and noted that Mary had yet to move. “If you refuse to move on your own,” he told her in a deadly voice, “I’ll be glad to assist you out of the wagon.”

  “I don’t like this,” Mary complained as she climbed out of the back. “Just what have you gotten us into, Brandy?”

  Brandy heard Ward’s voice ring out loud a
nd clear. “Wagons, Ho!”

  Brandy smiled as Mary trudged ahead. “Apparently a long, hard walk.”

  Slowly, they started moving all twenty wagons, one by one, until they were stretched out in single file. There would be no turning back now. Ahead lay an uncivilized land and the unknown. And that’s what scared Brandy most of all: the unknown.

  She tried to picture her future husband’s face as she wondered what he would be like. Would she be able to love a man she didn’t know? She almost laughed at the absurd thought. Had she not fallen willingly into Thunder’s arms last night? Lord knows, she didn’t know the first thing about him. But she would like to. She did know that she was attracted to the mysterious man. Why couldn’t she have met Thunder first? She shook her head as she trudged along, trying to keep her face down so the bonnet would shade her already-tender face.

  She looked up and saw Thunder in the distance. It probably wouldn’t have mattered. Except for the tender moment last night, the rest of the time he seemed to wish she didn’t exist.

  * * *

  Brandy and the children marched along beside the wagon. The dust wasn’t as bad as if they walked directly behind. She tried singing songs and talking to Scott to alleviate the boredom, but so far there hadn’t been much to see but flat prairie. She wondered how long they’d go before they stopped to rest.

  * * *

  It was nearing late afternoon when Thunder rode back to check on them.

  “How’s it going, Billy?”

  “Not bad. Scenery doesn’t seem to change much.”

  “Perhaps Brandy will be able to relieve you in a couple of days, so the job will be easier. And we do have another saddle so sometimes you can ride, but today won’t be as long as others. We will stop when we reach the river,” Thunder said before turning his horse. “I’ll check on the girls.”

  He darted behind the wagon and found Mary and Ellen walking with their sunbonnet-covered heads down. Scott stumbled, and Brandy grabbed him before he hit the ground. She stopped and swung him up piggyback and then continued walking. Thunder leaned over and lifted Scott onto his saddle in front of him.

  “Hi,” Scott said, his voice sounding weary. “I’m still a brave.”

  “Are you tired?”

  “Can braves be tired?” Scott asked.

  Thunder nodded.

  “Then I’m a little tired,” Scott admitted.

  “How about keeping me company for a little while?” Thunder’s gaze moved to Brandy. “How are you doing?”

  She glanced up at him as he rode beside her. “Do you suppose your cure for my hands will work on my feet, too?”

  He smiled. “I will take care of that tonight And see if I can find you some moccasins.”

  Mary swung her head around. “You could at least ask about us, too. Did you come back here just to gloat?”

  “Only to see if the sun had sweetened your disposition, Mary. And I see it hasn’t” Thunder told her, then nudged Lightning back toward the front.

  “I hate him,” Mary grumbled.

  “It’s not nice to hate,” Ellen reminded her.

  Brandy smiled and looked up at the blue sky. How am I doing so far, Father?

  She could almost picture Father Brown beside her, walking along with her, step for step, his head bent hands clasped behind his back. His voice came out of nowhere, You’re doing fine, my child. I knew you could keep your promise.

  Later that night the call finally came to circle the wagons. The sun was just starting to set and Brandy had never been so glad to stop in all her life.

  Just as they practiced, the wagons started turning slowly until they had formed a huge circle. The extra horses, oxen, and cows were put in the circle so they could feed upon the grass without running away.

  Campfires flickered to life as everyone prepared for dinner. Mary and Ellen volunteered to start the fire and cook.

  Scott came running over to Brandy. “I want to help. I want to help.”

  “Scott, why don’t you go and gather a few more sticks for the fire while Billy and I pitch the tent,” Brandy said.

  “Be right back,” Scott said.

  “Don’t go close to the river.”

  Billy and Brandy spread the tent out flat on the ground. Brandy wrapped extra rags around her hands to protect them as she held the stakes for Billy to hammer into the ground. Finally, they raised the poles that held the tent up and it stood and actually looked normal.

  “Not bad for a couple of greenhorns,” she said as she punched Billy in the side.

  “Darn near perfect.” Billy grinned and shook her hand, careful not to squeeze. Then he threw back a tent flap. “Let’s spread some blankets out on the bottom because after supper I intend to test this tent out.”

  “Just think, they said today was easy going.” Brandy laughed. “I wonder what we will look like after a hard day?”

  “Probably dead,” Billy said as Scott came running up with his arms full of sticks.

  “Look, I found a bunch.”

  Billy touched Scott’s shoulder and pointed. “Take them over to the campfire.”

  Scott nodded, then stuck his head into the tent. “I like this.”

  “Good, because it is where you and Billy are going to sleep tonight.”

  “Oh, boy.” Scott grinned and ran off with his bundle.

  Brandy looked around. “Where is Amy?”

  “Don’t know. I thought she was with Mary and Ellen,” Billy said matter-of-factly.

  “Have you seen Amy?” Brandy shouted to the girls. They both answered no. “We’d better look for her. You go that way and I’ll go the other way,” she pointed.

  “Amy!” Brandy called as she hurried to the wagon behind them. So far, she hadn’t really met the other travelers, and she hoped these people were nice. Surely, Amy hadn’t wandered away from the wagon toward the river.

  When Brandy reached the next wagon, she saw a big man with a ruddy face surrounded by a bristly red beard and mustache. A round cap made of some kind of plaid with a small ball on top perched on the side of his head. His trousers were homespun, and he had a little black pipe stuck out from the comer of his mouth.

  “Hello, lassie. My name is Cameron MacTavish.” He smiled as he held out his hand. “Just call me MacTavish.”

  He had such a warm smile that Brandy knew she would like this man right away. “Hello. My name is Brandy Brown, and I’m from the next wagon.” She pointed behind her. “I’m looking for a little girl about waist high.” She held her hand just below her waist to demonstrate.

  “And would she be havin’ short brown hair and brown eyes to match?”

  “Yes.” Brandy nodded. “Her name is Amy.”

  “Then yer prayers have been answered, lassie.” MacTavish took Brandy’s arm and pulled her over to the back of his wagon. “Nettie, my girl. Believe we’ve found Amy’s mother.”

  Nettie was a plump little woman with the same red hair as her husband. “What a lovely wee one ye be havin’,” she said as she climbed out of the wagon with Amy, who had fallen asleep on Nettie’s shoulder. “I have already fed her, and she went right off to sleep.”

  “Amy isn’t my child,” Brandy said as they walked back to her wagon. “We are from an orphanage that closed.”

  “Ye poor dears.” Nettie shook her head and looked around at the other children. “There are so many of ye, why don’t ye let Amy stay in our wagon? ’I’ll give ye more room, and she’s such a dear little thing, we wouldn’t mind one bit.”

  Brandy thought for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t mind? We do not want to impose.”

  “ ’Tis no problem atall,” Nettie assured her, then turned to her husband. “MacTavish, get our pot of stew and we’ll eat with our new friends. I’ll just go and lay Amy down and be right back.”

  Brandy strolled over to the girls. “Looks like we’ve made some friends. Do we have enough plates?” Ellen spread out a second big blanket. “Look in that box in the back. There should be a couple more.
Where is that woman taking Amy?”

  Brandy explained as they got out the plates and silverware. Both girls agreed it would be best for Amy as well as give them a little more room.

  When MacTavish and Nettie returned, Brandy introduced everyone and they all sat down to eat on the blankets, except for Mr. MacTavish who sat on an upside-down bucket.

  “You talk funny,” Scott said immediately.

  “Do I now?” MacTavish laughed, a hearty chuckle that made them all smile. “And I might be saying the same of you, laddie.”

  Billy was serving up his plate of stew when he asked, “Where are you from?”

  “Scotland.”

  “Is that near the Oregon territory?” Scott asked, then bit off a chunk of bread.

  “No, lad, Scotland is across the sea. Nettie and myself came to America almost three years now.”

  Brandy leaned against the wagon wheel as she ate. “Where are you goin’?”

  “We’re heading to Oregon where we intend to farm. Are you folks going that far?”

  “No, we’re stopping in Ft. Laramie,” Mary said. Brandy couldn’t believe that Mary was actually being civil tonight. Maybe she was just too tired, or maybe she liked the MacTavishes.

  Brandy halfway listened as the conversation went on around her while her thoughts drifted off toward a certain guide. She wondered why Thunder hadn’t come to have dinner with them. Of course, she couldn’t blame him. He had already tasted her cooking. But, she realized, she’d gotten used to seeing him at dinner, and she sort of missed him. She sighed. He was probably eating with Ward, and not thinking of them at all.

  She put her fork on her plate. “That was wonderful, Nettie. You are a very good cook.”

  “It’s a pleasure to have someone to share our supper with. If ye not be a mindin’, we could eat together every night,” Nettie suggested.

  All the children agreed at once that the idea was splendid. Brandy couldn’t remember when they had all agreed on anything, especially so quickly. “We would like that, as I’m sure you can tell. As long as you use our supplies also,” she added.