Nicademus: The Wild Ones

by Sienna Mynx

  “Katihkaash?” he asked where he had gone. Annabelle shrugged her shoulders. Red Sun marched into the other room and searched.

  “Stop it, he left already!” Annabelle grabbed his big arm and pulled him from the room before he flipped her bed. “He left lass night,” Annabelle confessed.

  Red Sun eyed her suspiciously. “You should not have brought a man in here. You should not!”

  “I couldn’t let him die out there. As soon as he was well he took his things and left. That’s it. Nuthin’ more. He paid me with a horse. He left on foot. Felt he’d find his way without the hunters easier.”

  “Horse?” Red Sun asked.

  “Yep. It’s out back. That’s why I didn’t tell ya. I thought you might take it from me.”

  “Don’t let me catch him!” Red Sun yelled and stormed back out.

  Jessiemae stood there puzzled. She didn’t speak Chickasaw so she didn’t understand Red Sun’s warning. She looked around the cabin as if she didn’t believe Annabelle’s story. “I seen him. He was weak with fever. Now he gone? Don’t believe it,” Jessiemae said.

  “I’ll neva trust you again. Go!” Before Jessie could object Annabelle shoved her to the door.

  “Tonight Ms. Kitty wants you at work. The Buffalo Soldiers are here for another day. You gots to sing for them,” Jessiemae warned.

  “Out!” Annabelle slammed the door on her before she was barely through it. She glanced around the cabin. “Where you?” She didn’t think he was well enough to get off the cot. This development troubled her. She went for her Colt and turned when she heard him stumble from out of her bedroom. He wheezed, leaning against the wall. Annabelle put down the gun and hurried over.

  “You shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. Glads ya did though.” She helped him back over to the cot.

  “Where’s my things? I have to leave,” he pleaded.

  “I’m fixin you. You ain’t ready.”

  He grabbed her arm. “I’m not your pet. I need to get the fuck out of here. Do you understand, little girl!”

  Annabelle snatched away. “I’m no little girl. I’m a woman. The woman who saved yo no-account life. So you are my pet.” She huffed and walked off. She came back over with her salve and clean cloths. “Now lie back and let me see if you tore at my stitching.”

  He did as he was told. What choice did he have? Annabelle re-examined his wound with interest.

  “Are you a nurse?” he asked.

  “Yes!” she said proudly. “My pa was a Negro shaman, the only one in the Chickasaw tribe. It’s in my blood.”

  “You part Indian?” Jeremiah scoffed.

  Annabelle’s eyes lifted to him and then back down to his wound as she smoothed on the salve and layered it with fresh alfalfa leaves out of her garden. He winced and she covered it back. “You have ta stop looking like an outlaw,” she said. “Thank God you don’t smell like one anymore.”

  “You and your baths, remember?”

  She glanced up; his brow was arched with interest.

  “I’m a nurse. It’s my duty. Cleaned your pecker because I had to,” she gave him a sly smile.

  He laughed. “Well, Nurse Annabelle, I can’t help my face,” Jeremiah replied.

  “Sure ya can. You white men get all hairy and stringy when you’re up to no good. Then all clean and shaven when you want to be respectable,” she laughed. Her laughter was almost as beautiful as her face.

  Jeremiah smiled. “You have a point.”

  She stopped laughing and shared his smile. “Don’cha know if you leave here like this they’ll know youse runnin’?” She sat up, proud of her work. “That there is gonna be all done healing in a few days. Then you can be out there again robbing banks. What’s your name by the way?” she asked.

  “I’m Jeremiah Polk ma’am,” he said. “They call me Jeremy.”

  “Unh-huh, they call you ‘One-Finger’.” She reached back for the wanted flyer and handed it over to him. Jeremiah read the bounty on his head. It was certain to have every lawman within six hundred miles hunting him. Annabelle stood. She put her hands to her small hips. “That big Indian that came in earlier ready to skin yo hide, well he’s the closest thing I got to a pa left. His name is Red Sun, and he hates two things in the world, anybody that hurts me and Ms. Kitty is the first.”

  “And the second?” Jeremiah asked.

  “White men. If he sees ya, he’ll kill ya on the spot and make a belt out of that pony hair of yours.” She giggled. Jeremiah shook his head, unable to keep the smile from his face. She was so refreshingly different her charm worked at healing him better than whatever potions she put on his injury. She crossed her arms and continued. “You have ta shave, clean up, and we got to cover that hand of yours. Stay here and be hidden if he ever comes back. If you try anything and he finds out about it, you caint run fast enough or far enough to keep him off you. So don’t even think about it.”

  Jeremiah stared at her. “Is that all?”

  “Nope. Feed yer’self, bathe yer’self after this shave I give you, pretty much tend ta yer’self. I’m your nurse not your slave,” she said and emphasized the last word.

  “Why, Annabelle? Why are you my nurse? Shouldn’t you be afraid of me?” he asked.

  She dropped her hands to her hips. “I told you, I’m like my real pa. Now stay here while I go fetch the things from Red Sun’s tent to clean your face.”

  “My things!” he said sharply. “You know what they are. The gold, where is it?”

  “I’s got it,” she teased. “And you won’t have it until you’re out the door. That way I know you’ll behave.”

  With a toss of her chin she turned and marched out of the door. Jeremiah checked her handiwork and had to admit it: her nursing was curing him. He winced and got up from the cot. Holding his side he made it to the door and opened it a crack. He could see her walking over to his horse. She grabbed the top of the saddle and put her foot in the stirrup. Without assistance she heaved herself up and flung her leg over to mount Randy. He loved that horse, and that saddle belonged to his father. The animal was all he found left when he returned home from the war.

  Annabelle seemed to love the animal as well. She leaned in and whispered to it, stroking the horse’s mane. Randy didn’t let anyone ride him. He was patient and docile with her.

  Jeremiah leaned a bit to watch the bond forming between them. And then she rode out of the gates of her land. He opened the door wider as she kept on. The town was further ahead, but close enough to be seen. A town run by blacks and Indians? Possibly the safest place for him to be? That was indeed interesting.

  4.

  Cora looked up from behind the bar in time to see Annabelle push through the swinging doors of her saloon. Her arrival turned the heads of every gambler and gunslinger in the saloon. The young girl who once wondered around town trailing the mean Indian in bare feet with long braids had grown into a very beautiful young woman. In fact, Joshua and Jacob had to remind the Blue Moon’s gentlemen callers when Annabelle performed for the saloon that she wasn’t on the menu. It never went over well.

  The darkest girl in Cora’s place was Honey. Annabelle’s skin was a shade darker than hers. Flawless. Though her dress was neat and well made, the swell of her breasts and curvy hips clearly defined her hourglass figure. She was graceful when she walked, not burdened with slumped shoulders from an oppressive life or lack of confidence. Cora envied her natural beauty and presence. Annabelle wore her hair in two parted thick braids that reached just past her shoulders. She only loosened the braided hair when she performed.

  Cora shook her head. They’d have to get her married off soon. God knows Henry had tried on several occasions to catch her attention.

  Annabelle’s long lashed dark eyes swept the scattered tables of customers before connecting with Cora. Annabelle forced a smile to her face and walked over.

  “Hi, Ms. Kitty,” she said. “Been looking for me?”

  “Upstairs. Now,” Cora replied.

  Anna
belle marched straight upstairs. Cora came from behind the bar with a fresh pitcher of ale. She wiped loose curls from her brow and straightened her back as she approached the men. The sheriff was there, sitting at a card table with a few gamblers. Her eyes met with his. He was a tall man. Not tall like Red Sun, but the kind of tall that gave a woman pause. He had dark Nubian skin like all the other men in town, but a mustache that was trimmed neat to the corners of his mouth. Ben Taylor was the town sheriff and had actually fought for the Union in the war before being deputized and heading west with his son. He was her man, her main customer until Red Sun stole her heart.

  The chair he rocked back in creaked. His hat was situated low on head, his gaze never leaving hers. Her feelings never ran as deep for Ben as they did for Red Sun, but her passion had. This man had an insatiable lust for her that never left his eyes when she was near. It worked in her favor when she wanted freedom to run her girls and the saloon with the law on her side. Now it made things difficult, awkward, and even dangerous for Red Sun. It was yet another reason why the foolish actions of Annabelle could cost them all dearly.

  “A cure for what ails you, boys?” Cora asked. She filled their mugs, splashing beer over the rim.

  “How about you and I have a moment alone, Cora. To discuss things?” Ben asked.

  “Such as, Sheriff?” Cora asked with a polite smile.

  “Private matter,” Ben said, moving his toothpick around in his mouth and lowering his gaze a fraction to her breasts. She knew what he was asking. He always asked. Maybe he thought one day the answer would be different.

  Cora shook her head with a smile on her face and levity in her voice. “I’ll send one of my girls down to have that conversation with you, Sheriff,” she winked.

  He grimaced but held his tongue. She walked back over to the bar and set the pitcher down. “Make sure the girls keep them entertained,” she said to Jacob.

  “Yes ma’am, Ms. Kitty,” he nodded.

  She ventured up the stairs. She found Annabelle in her room seated on her bed. The young girl chewed on her nail. When Cora slammed the door behind her Annabelle got to her feet.

  “I can explain ma-self—”

  Cora slapped her hard across the face. Annabelle fell across the bed with a tortured cry of fright and remorse. “You want him dead? Is that what you want?” Cora hissed. “Answer me!”

  “Nooo,” Annabelle wept.

  “If he had found that white man in your house he would have killed him. You know it! And then where would he be? Ben would have strung him up hisself and made us give him the rope. Is that what you want?” Cora seethed. She was mindful to keep her voice low, but rage boiled the blood in her veins.

  Annabelle continued to weep. Cora paced back and forth. She wrung her hands. When Jessiemae had come to her room and told her and Red Sun that morning about Annabelle’s secret, Cora all but drew down on Red Sun to keep him from leaving. And he left anyway. Thank God the outlaw was gone. Thank God for them all Red Sun hadn’t found him. But she knew her man. He was out there in the foothills hunting for the outlaw alone.

  Cora put her hands to her head. “Pray, pray hard, that Red Sun doesn’t catch up with your bandit. Pray hard!”

  “He gone. I swear it!” Annabelle reasoned.

  Cora sighed. She sat next to the girl and pulled her over into her arms’ embrace. She hugged her to her breast. “Never do this again. Do you understand? The only way we survive here in Nicademus is we keep strangers out. The day we forget that lesson …” Cora grimaced when she thought of the life she had led on the outpost of the Cane River before escaping to the Quarters and eventually out of Louisiana. “We have to be careful, Annabelle. Red Sun and I want you happy, but freedom to just be a woman in this world comes at a cost. Don’t ever do this again.”

  “I won’t. I promise,” Annabelle repeated.

  She lifted the young girl’s face and wiped her tears. “You know Henry has been asking after you. He’s a good man. Got his own land. Might even be sheriff of this town one day.”

  “I don’t want him,” Annabelle frowned.

  Cora sighed. “Red Sun’s been mentioning getting you hitched, and after today—”

  “No, Cora! No, please. Talk to him. I want to be a nurse. Doc Samuel say I’m good. I’m learnin’. Please.”

  Cora waved off her pleas. They both knew that the final say wasn’t up to either of them. She looked her and her hair over. “Clean yourself up. I need you singing tonight. And Ma Sweets been in the kitchen two days straight. Red Sun had to fix his own breakfast when he come down out of the mountains. You needed here.”

  “Can I go home and lay down a spell? I still don’t feel well,” Annabelle said.

  “What?” Cora frowned.

  “I promise to be here early,” Annabelle quickly added. “Red Sun scared the hell out of me. And he broke up my things looking for the outlaw. I want to clean up and rest a bit.”

  Cora looked her over to see if she was lying. She suffered a sharp pang of regret over striking her. She loved Annabelle deeply, and part of that love for her was the innocence Annabelle carried after being raised in Nicademus. The slaughter of Annabelle’s parents had surely left scars. But Annabelle still had hope. The kind of frivolous hope that she could one day be some Negress nurse.

  “Go on,” Cora said with her hands to her hips.

  “And Red Sun? He’s so angry. What about him?” Annabelle asked.

  “I know what Red Sun needs. I’ll take care of him.” Cora winked. Annabelle got to her feet and hugged her. She ran for the door. Cora stepped out of her room. She walked to the edge of the top floor balcony and peered down at the saloon. Annabelle hurried down the stairs and out the front. Cora’s gaze switched to the sheriff and found he was once again staring at her with that hunger in his eyes.

  She cut her gaze away.

  “Jessiemae!” Cora said.

  Jessiemae was coming up the stairs with folded laundry. “Yes, Ms. Kitty?”

  “I want you to keep your eye on Annabelle, make sure she isn’t up to something. And the next time you find out she is, you come to me first. Don’t you ever go to Red Sun! Hear me?” Cora said.

  “Yes, ma’am, Ms. Kitty. I’s hear you.”

  **

  Annabelle slipped back inside. She returned to find Jeremiah seated at her table eating from her pot of stew, his belly full. She blinked at him at first. She’d never seen a man other than Red Sun at her table for dinner. It was strange having him there. He looked up with that hairy face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I hope you don’t mind? I feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks. I wanted more.”

  “That’s ta be expected I suppose.” She closed the door. Reaching inside her dress pockets she removed a straight razor and a cherished bar of soap. “You ready for a shave?”

  “Do I have a choice?” he smiled.

  “Oh you gots a choice. But this here is the only one that will keep you alive. Or haven’t you figured that out?” Annabelle asked.

  “Whoa, sorry, Miss. I ain’t trying to piss you off. It was a joke. Ain’t you got any humor left in you today?”

  Annabelle studied him for a moment. Humor? Ms. Kitty nearly knocked her head off. Red Sun was furious with her. And she was still lying to them all to protect his ass. Humor went out the door the moment she dragged him inside. She sucked down a deep calming breath. She did itch to see what was underneath all that hair on his face: those green eyes were so damn compelling. “It’s been a bad morning. You better be worth the trouble.”

  “I am,” he smiled, which she pretty much ignored. Retrieving a bowl she filled it from her water bucket and strolled over to the table.

  Jeremiah tried to shift to a comfortable position. There was none. Annabelle stood behind him. Her hand rested on his shoulder for a moment, and his eyes dropped to her delicate fingers. But the contact was brief, leaving his shoulder yearning for more.

  A rag went to his face, which she wiped down and then soaped up.
He let his head fall back and swallowed twice through the first shave he’d ever had by a woman. Before the war he had grown accustomed to doing the trims himself. But he’d watched his ma give his pa the same kind of treatment. His stomach soured with anger over that fading memory.

  “So why did you steal that gold?” she asked.

  Jeremiah didn’t answer. Annabelle kept with his shave, dropping hair and suds as she went. His face cooled once free of the itchy hairs. When she looked at him she paused.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “How old is you?” Annabelle asked.

  Jeremiah wiped his hand across his jaw. “Why?”

  “I thought …” her voice trailed off. “I thought you were older.”

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Seventeen,” she quickly answered. “That’s what Red Sun tell me, but I feel I much older.”

  “I was seventeen when I was sent to war. That was three years ago,” he mused.

  “War? You a confederate?” she asked and he heard the bitterness in her tone.

  “I was a boy forced into a war I didn’t understand. I’m a man now who wished I never had joined.”

  “Mmhm,” she said. “You’ll ‘ave ta bathe at night so you won’t be seen. I’ll be back,” she said, taking the dirty water out. He touched his face. Picking up the razor on the table he eyed his reflection in the blade. He hadn’t seen himself in quite some time. His brow, around his eyes and upper cheekbones were scarlet red and pealing from sunburn. However, his jawline was clean and smooth, like a baby’s bottom. She had done a good job indeed.

  Later –

  Jeremiah couldn’t sleep. The naps were more frequent. But each time he woke he felt stronger. And that mattered most. He ached so much, but he couldn’t stand lying on his back another moment. So he sat up. He put his face in his hands. He tried to understand his restlessness and suppress the urge to get on his horse and ride for his life. It was his gold that kept him staying put. The gold and the girl.

  From the only light source, on the other side of the cottage, he could hear the sweetest humming. Curious, he was up and walking before he realized it, drawn to the source. Thankfully the door to the room was cracked. A lantern sat on the floor bathing her in a yellow glow, next to a large tin tub. Annabelle stood in the middle of it bathing herself. She hummed what sounded like a familiar lullaby, but he wasn’t sure. All he knew to be true was that her lovely voice was similar to his mother’s when she had hummed to Mary and James when they were babies to put them to sleep. He felt that calm nurturing again, but her body became a distraction from the memory. His hungry gaze slid downward, unable to lift from the vision before him.