by Cheri Chaise
The meal was consumed with plenty of dancing in long feathered headdresses and rhythmic drumbeats. Abby’s charcoal flew furiously over the paper with only seconds to capture each graceful or stomping movement. Food was forgotten as she became more enraptured with each stroke or smudge.
Bret, handsome and rugged in all his tribal glory, explained each dance to the rest of us as best he could: the changing of the seasons, honoring the harvest, offering thanks to the Great Spirit for a successful hunt, and finally the giving of life.
It was at the completion of the life dance that a figure emerged from the ceremonial hut and made his way through the crowd to stand beside the fire. Cole immediately stiffened beside me to see the wolf pelt draped over the figure from head to foot, the large maw of the preserved animal wide open to reveal the face of Chief Killing Bear.
I entwined my fingers with my husband’s and offered up a reassuring smile. He bent his head to nuzzle my cheek and slid a brief kiss over my lips.
“It’s a celebration of life,” I whispered reassuringly.
I glanced past my sister on my other side to see a similar tightness on Bret’s face, even though he tried hard to hide it. But there was little I could do to offer him assurances or comfort with my sister between us.
So very firmly between us.
The moment the drumbeat ceased, Killing Bear held up his hands while Bret softly translated. “We celebrate tonight the giving and receiving of life.”
A cheer rose from the crowd before he continued.
“We praise our brave hunters and the sacrifice of the noble buffalo.”
Another cry.
“We praise the earth and all her many fruits.”
I thought of the huckleberry jam Little Red Fox so loved – and reveled in the fruit of my womb I’d long feared barren as my gaze again connected with Bret’s.
Until he looked away.
“And we praise the Great Spirit for giving us back one of our own.”
Instead of a cheer this time, the entire assembly fell in a hush as Running Wind and Little Red Fox rose and stepped forward, holding a very well bundled little boy in their arms to protect him from the cool night air.
The dancers gathered round and began slowly circling the fire pit as the drumbeat cadence started up softly this time. The chief took his great-grandson in his arms and chanted quietly over him, his voice rising and falling as if in song.
Through it all, Abby stared transfixed at the chief, her sketchbook forgotten. Her body leaned closer and closer toward Bret each time he explained what was happening or translated for our benefit.
I was barely paying attention by the time the chief proclaimed the boy’s name to be Walking Spirit Wolf.
Deep in my soul, a sensation squeezed my heart harder than my hand squeezed Cole’s. And when Abby’s head rested briefly against Bret’s shoulder, I could do nothing but acknowledge the swirl of emotion that coursed through me like the hot blood through my veins.
Jealousy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bret
Running Wind gripped my shoulder in a public display of thanks and acceptance as we prepared to leave the reservation the following morning. But I was even less prepared for what he did next, when he motioned one of his fellow hunters forward and draped the enormous buffalo hide across my shoulders.
The return from the successful hunt, coupled with further explanation from Little Red Fox of their son’s near death, had the man in high spirits after the ceremonial naming. How else to explain the incredible honor Running Wind bestowed on me after discovering how hard we’d all worked to bring his son back from the brink of the spirit world?
The man spoke with reverence before the entirety of the assembled tribe of the debt he felt he owed me. No matter how I tried to argue, he vowed the blood debt before the tribe by slicing his palm and touching it to mine in the sign of kinship. I had no choice but to accept his actions or risk alienating members of the tribe all over again.
As the crowd disbursed to their teepees, I reached into my saddlebags and pulled out the pouch with the remaining peppermint leaves, cautioning them to ensure Walking Spirit Wolf got plenty of rest and fluids over the next weeks to avoid relapse.
Running Wind breathed in the sharp aroma when I handed over the oilskin then offered up something I thought I’d never see from him.
A smile.
“My thanks…my son’s life,” Running Wind offered, before tilting his head toward Little Red Fox. “My woman’s heart.”
As he placed his hand on Little Red Fox’s belly, I understood his meaning more than any words spoken or translated. The loss of her son would’ve broken my cousin’s heart. In her grief, she would’ve been tempted to express it in a blood-letting – with potential drastic consequences that would leave Running Wind bereft of not only his wife, but their unborn child.
And me yet another in my dwindling family members among the tribe.
In that moment, I couldn’t help but cast a glance Essie’s way. Though she’d yet to show from beneath her clothes, I knew what such a loss would do to her – and would destroy me in the end.
I offered my thanks for the generous gift, and after a few more pleasantries with other tribal leaders, the Carston party mounted and turned into the rising sun toward home.
Home. A warm hearth and a comfortable bed – except I was no longer welcome in mine. Ours.
Everything came flooding back the farther away from the camp we rode. The triumphant feeling I’d left with faded with each plodding hoof. Each squeaky turn of the wagon wheels.
We were heading back to a house filled with turmoil.
Edna would leave soon enough. But I’d never be able to have Essie again. To slowly ravish her lips with mine. Drink from her sweet pussy. Slide my cock into her soft and welcoming heat and ride each other slowly. Sensually. In no hurry to reach our peak. No worry about someone stumbling upon us. Or who joined us.
No. None of that was possible now. Not while Abby remained under our roof.
But I couldn’t be mad with her anymore. It wasn’t Abby’s fault she’d had a shitty husband. Or that she and Essie had had a father who thought more of his own pleasure instead of providing for his progeny.
Abby was family – and the Carstons took care of their own.
As the miles fell behind us, I finally had to grudgingly admit that Abby had shown adaptability already to the hardships of prairie life. And unlike Edna, she’d also shown great acceptance of my people in the tribe. Even her fear of that too eager brave had lessened somewhat each time he tried for her hand. Or to impress her.
I chuckled at the memory of their final interaction the evening before. How Abby had bravely – but foolishly – leapt in front of him to save that damn dog.
“What are you laughing at?”
Essie’s question drew me from the memory. “Oh…I was just thinking on yesterday. And that brave when he tried to shoo off that dog.”
Abby didn’t even look up from her sketches. “Well, I couldn’t just stand by while he killed a poor, injured dog.”
“He wasn’t gonna kill it.”
“But he was aiming…”
“He was just trying to scare it away from the children.”
That got Abby’s attention as she looked up with a furrowed brow. “Oh.”
Her short response and ready acceptance sent another chuckle through me.
“Speaking of that brave.” Essie carefully steered the wagon through a dry wash as the trail dipped. “You never did tell us what Little Red Fox said after that incident.”
I pushed my hat back on my head and glanced over at the two sisters. Sisters from the same family but who were so completely different.
Like me and my brothers.
“She said that Abby had bewitched him.”
Seth and Sean shared a frustrated look between them that almost set me off laughing again.
Until we came up from the gully, and something up ahead drew my sharp g
aze. There was nothing along the far river. I didn’t see anything through the smattering of trees there either. But from Cole’s sudden head jerk, I knew he was aware of it too.
I gave my brother a silent nod then nudged the Black Prince ahead to scope out the approaching bend in the trail. There were plenty of divots and dimples in the dirt from hooves, wheel tracks, and animals, but nothing fresh that indicated something – or someone – had passed through here moments ago.
Maybe a soldier on patrol. A hunter. Or an animal.
A cooling breeze whispered through the trees and grasses as I listened for a hint of noise that was out of place. But all I heard was Nightmare’s clomping hooves as Cole trotted up.
“You see anything?”
“No,” I admitted. “You?”
He shook his head.
But I sure felt something here. Or something that had been here.
We stayed put, continuing to watch the area as Seth and Sean hung back riding right beside Abby.
“You think that brave who wanted Abby might’ve decided to just take her?” Cole asked.
I shook my head. “No. The tribe would never allow such a thing.”
“You sure?”
Even though it appeared that brave was a transplant from another tribe, I had no doubt they’d hold him to the same standards. But that might also explain why he’d set his sights on a new female in their midst, as none of the families wished to incorporate him further into their immediate clan. If that was the case, however, that didn’t paint him in the best light either.
Still, if he’d presented any sort of danger, Chief Killing Bear would’ve never allowed him into their fold. Or allowed him to stay. “He may’ve been too eager for a wife, but I never got the impression he’d do something so rash. Matter of fact, I think he’d been trying to impress her all along.”
I stared again at Abby as the wagon meandered closer. That poor brave had only been thinking with his cock. Abby might have it in her to adapt to the ranch in time, but there was no way she’d survive anything beyond what we had.
And I had to admit. Even I had no desire to live among my father’s people. I’d grown up in the white world, with a solid roof over my head, and plenty of food readily available. I’d never known deprivation and true hardship.
And neither had Abby. She was a woman caught between worlds.
Like me.
Sometimes I still didn’t know where I fit in. If I ever did. My life had always been stuck between two worlds, neither wanting nor accepting me. Not fully.
No matter what the thick buffalo skin I wore represented.
I had so much in common with my native brethren, and yet no matter how often I visited or what I did for them, I’d always remain an outsider in some way. My brothers accepted me hook, line, and sinker, and yet their world didn’t.
Essie’s world.
Her sister’s presence and influence had only served to highlight the barriers that still stood between us. Might always stand between us.
Sprinkles of laughter drew my gaze to where Essie and Abby sat high atop the wagon seat. Even now, I burned for our wife. To take her in my arms. To settle between her legs and lap up her sweet pussy nectar.
Every. Last. Drop.
“Oh look,” Abby called. “There’s the dog again.”
I stared off through the prairie grass to see its rather emaciated body dip and rise with each step. It appeared to be trying to keep up with us. Maybe it had gotten ahead of us at some point and was what had drawn mine and Cole’s attention earlier.
One of the twins came trotting up beside me. “It’s limping pretty badly.”
The other twin stayed with the approaching wagon right next to Abby. “Back haunch looks like it’s bleeding.”
“Probably got bit by another animal,” my brother observed aloud.
Seth cocked a pistol with a loud click. “Want me to put it out of its misery?”
“You’re not going to shoot the poor thing, are you?” Abby’s voice called from behind.
Sean wasn’t so quick to offer to shoot the animal but swung his horse around to look Abby in the eye as Essie brought the wagon to a halt.
“It’s been bitten,” he offered in a sympathetic tone. “Might be rabid.”
“The dog isn’t rabid,” I finally said, swinging down off my horse and handing the reins over to Cole before rooting around in my saddlebag.
“How can you tell?” Sean asked.
“It was hurt when we first saw it five days ago.” I took a few cautious steps toward the dog as I ripped the jerky into smaller pieces. “If she was rabid, we’d be seeing signs by now.”
“What are you doing?” Essie called after me with a concerned warble.
A couple more steps. “She’s following us because she’s hungry.”
“I knew it was a girl.” Abby’s murmur carried on the cool breeze.
The dog skittered back a few steps as I crept closer. “Just a guess until I can see better.”
But the dog was keeping her haunches tucked away from view as if protecting her weak side as she took several more steps back.
I stopped and squatted down to observe where she’d been standing moments before to see a smear of blood on a rock. It wasn’t much, but the wound was obviously deep enough to still be seeping.
Probably hadn’t been able to move around quick enough to get a good meal in her belly since being bitten, which explained her emaciated state. A little nourishment would give her some strength and help in the healing process.
This close, I noticed she was a pretty good-sized animal. Fear and hunger radiated in her brown eyes, but I also saw a softness that wasn’t usually present in a wild animal. This dog had once been domesticated. Probably abandoned by a rancher who’d given up on his claim or lost from a wagon train traveling through here.
Her thick, golden fur was matted, but if washed and brushed she’d be a beautiful dog. A good pet for a family willing to take good care of her.
Meg would absolutely love her.
But even though I didn’t think she was rabid, there was still a possibility the virus hadn’t yet revealed itself. If she continued to follow us toward the homestead, the next few days would be the clincher.
If she made it that far – and that long.
She wasn’t going to let me get close enough to check the wound, so there wasn’t much I could do for her in that regard. Instead I simply spread a few pieces of jerky on the ground at my feet then backed away.
A few more tentative steps backward, but the wary dog never moved. However, I saw the moment the breeze wafted the scent of the jerky into her nostrils and sent them quivering.
Like Essie’s pussy around my tongue when I brought her to sweet release.
The dog’s gaze never left mine as she crept forward when I finally stood far enough away to appear unthreatening.
It took her all of three bites to wolf it down when she landed upon the food. She lifted her head, licking her chops as if begging for more before darting away and toward the river.
Giving me a bird’s eye view of the maggot infested chunk ripped out of her thigh.
I gritted my teeth as I made my way to the others and remounted. Curse whoever had abandoned that poor creature to the wild.
“Are we just going to leave her behind?” Essie asked as the wagon clanked along beside me.
Abby kept glancing over her shoulder as if hoping to catch sight of the dog. “We’ve got room here in the wagon, Bret…if you think it’s safe.”
I almost laughed to hear her defer so to me, once again demonstrating the differences between the sisters.
“Probably not the best thing,” I returned. “Unless you want maggots crawling on you.”
“Maggots?”
“Some animal took a bite clean out of her leg.”
Abby gasped. “Oh, that’s horrible.”
“But maggots are good, right?” one of the twins asked. “I’ve heard tell that doctors sometimes use t
hem to bleed patients to clean their blood of toxins and shit.”
“Seth!” Essie scolded.
He didn’t correct her. She’d only known our cousins a few weeks now, and already she could tell the difference between them without seeing the infamous scar. I mean, I understood with Cole’s twins – she was their mother, for fuck’s sake. But these two?
Maybe she’d figured out the different colored hats also, though I swear they’d become interchangeable on this trip. Almost like they enjoyed trying to trip us up on who was who.
“That’s leeches.” And society thought my father’s people were savages. “But maggots can help by eating away at the dead and damaged tissue, leaving the way open for new skin to grow and close the wound…if the patient doesn’t bleed to death first.”
“Do you…do you think she’ll die?” Abby asked hesitantly. “Out here? Alone in the wild?”
“Nature can be cruel, Abby,” Sean…no Seth said.
“There must be something we can do.”
I glanced at Cole. “She’s not trusting enough to get too close to us.”
She harrumphed. “For good reason apparently.” I suspected Abby hadn’t directed that comment toward any of us. Probably more directed at this dog’s former master.
I couldn’t fault her. “The only thing we can do is leave out some food when we stop for the night.”
All the while, I continued to surreptitiously drop a piece of jerky here and there along our path until the falling sun had us setting up camp in some trees near the river.
The fish sizzled hot in the pan and tasted delicious, settling warm in my belly as I took up the first watch. After all of the hubbub created over Essie’s sister by that loud-mouthed brave and our concern today on the trail, Cole reminded all of us to remain extra vigilant on this return trip.
The fire crackled and glowed nearby as everyone settled down for the night. A hush fell over our campsite, undisturbed by my silent stalking around the edges just outside the firelight.
The stars sparkled in the chill air. The wind whispered through the pines as the trickle of the nearby river ebbed and flowed over rocks and brambles, snaking its way from the mountains as it offered life-giving bounty to the land.