The woman shook her head. "It wouldn’t be too much to ask, sir. Unfortunately, Pierre isn't at home at the moment. Perhaps I might be able to help you. I'm Mrs. Dandaneau."
White Eagle had half expected her to say that, but hearing the words spoken came as a shock anyway. This woman—his stepmother—was even younger than he was.
Should I tell her who I am? The question raced through his mind. After a second or two, he decided not to, at least not yet. Instead he said, "Do you know when he'll be back?"
"Why, I expect him sometime this morning. He's a freighter, you know—" She paused and waited for White Eagle to nod in confirmation, then went on, "He'll be returning from a short run he made to Solomon yesterday. It's only a few miles, so he should be back before noon."
White Eagle sighed. Clearly, this woman had never lived on the frontier. Out on the fringes of civilization a woman didn’t admit that she was alone. If she did, she had better have the sense to say that her man would be returning any minute. With some of the men who roamed the wilds, to do otherwise was to invite disaster.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he began gently. "It isn't wise to tell a stranger that your husband won't be back for a while."
She frowned. "But you just asked me when Pierre would be home."
"I know, and I thank you for the honest answer."
White Eagle glanced around at the tranquil neighborhood and shook his head. "I've just been on the trail too long, ma'am. You're right, of course."
He had recovered from his initial shock, but nervousness threatened to overwhelm him once more. As the unusual feeling of panic rose in his chest, he decided it would be best if he came back later. He started to turn away.
"Just a moment," the woman said, stopping him. "You didn't tell me why you want to see Pierre."
Abruptly, White Eagle swung around and faced her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's personal. I'll drop by later when your husband is home," he said quickly.
He backed toward the edge of the porch. To his surprise, the woman followed him with a strange expression on her face. Suddenly her eyes lit up, and she reached out and touched his arm.
"I know you!" she exclaimed. "You looked so familiar when I first saw you, and now I know why. It's the resemblance to Pierre. You're White Eagle!"
"You...know about me?" he stammered.
"Of course. Pierre told me." Grasping his sleeve, she started to pull him gently toward the door. "Come in, please. We have so much to talk about, and I'm sure Pierre will be thrilled to see you."
White Eagle wasn’t so certain of that, but he permitted the woman to steer him into the cool, shadowy interior of the house. As they stepped into the foyer, he saw a table with a beautifully carved base standing against one wall. The highly polished tabletop gleamed, and an elaborately crocheted doily decorated it. Hanging on the wall above the table was a chromolithograph of a woodland scene. Behind the door, he glimpsed a hall tree.
The woman held his arm as they stepped into a parlor that opened to the left. A rug was centered on the polished hardwood floor. A long divan was on the far side of the room with a low table in front of it. At the end of the divan another table held a kerosene lamp. Two upholstered chairs stood opposite the divan, and against the far wall was a pianoforte. Several pastoral pictures and two shelves filled with knickknacks decorated the walls.
It was a pleasant, comfortable room, but White Eagle felt stifled. He was accustomed to open spaces. Even on the rare occasions when he slept indoors, it was in a barracks or some bawdy house—not like this at all.
"Where are my manners?" the woman asked as she guided him toward the divan. "My name is Katie, Katie Dandaneau. And you're White Eagle, of course. Would you like some coffee?"
"Ah...yes. That would be nice."
"I have a pot on the stove. I'll be right back. Please, sit down."
As she bustled from the room, White Eagle saw that the advanced stage of her pregnancy didn’t keep her from being active. He sighed deeply and took a seat. Glancing down, he noticed his grimy, dust-covered buckskins, sat up abruptly, and perched like a nervous schoolboy on the very edge of the divan. He didn’t want to soil this lady's furniture.
Slowly he studied the room in the filtered daylight that came through curtained windows. It was undeniably a woman's room. He could see no sign that his father spent much time here.
The old man must have spent some time in another room of the house, though, White Eagle thought with a grin. Katie Dandaneau's condition was proof of that. Unless—
He shook his head. That was a totally unwarranted conclusion. He had just met Katie and had no reason to suspect her of being unfaithful to his father. Maybe Pierre had changed over the years. There had to have been some reason for a fine lady like Katie to marry him.
Tinkling china announced Katie's passage down the hallway, and she came into the room, carrying a silver tray that held a coffeepot and two cups. Setting the tray on the low table in front of the divan, she smiled as she sat down in one of the upholstered chairs. White Eagle noticed that a row of delicate flowers was painted around the bases of the cups. That feminine touch was another surprise.
He had not expected to find that his father was married. Living with some worn-out soiled dove perhaps, but not married to a fresh young thing like Katie.
She poured coffee for both of them and handed him a cup. As he took it, her fingertips brushed his. "I hope you like your coffee black," she said. "That's the way Pierre takes his, and I thought with you being his son and all..."
"This is fine," he assured her. He sipped the hot liquid. "Very good, in fact."
She tasted her own coffee, then said with a smile, "Now, you have to tell me all about yourself, White Eagle. I've always hoped that I would meet you."
He placed his cup on the tray and took a deep breath. "I'm surprised Pierre even mentioned me," he said bluntly. "Most men wouldn't talk about a half-breed son that they fathered by some Kiowa squaw."
Katie blanched at the harsh words, and he instantly regretted them. He didn’t mean to hurt her, but he felt too uncomfortable to worry about being diplomatic.
"Pierre told me everything about his life before he met me, White Eagle," she said with a smile. "I know about your mother and you. When two people are in love, they owe it to each other to have no secrets. I told Pierre everything about my own past, too."
He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Given her age and the air of innocence she exuded, she couldn’t have had much to confess.
"I'd wager the old man's yarn was a little more colorful," he said. "No offense, Katie."
"Of course not. At any rate, I always thought it was a shame that you and Pierre parted on such bad terms. I told him several times that he ought to get in touch with you. After all, we knew where you were."
"Knew where I was?" White Eagle exclaimed. "How?"
"Oh, since Pierre is in the freight business, he talks to people from all over. He heard quite a few stories about that dashing Army scout, White Eagle Dandaneau. Now that you're here, I can see that you really are as dashing as the stories made you out to be."
"I'm not sure about that," he commented dryly.
"The truth sometimes gets lost in the tales that people tell."
She reached out, took his hand, and squeezed it. "Well, I'm glad you're here. I'm sure that Pierre will be thrilled to see you."
He couldn’t reply to that. He didn’t share Katie's certainty that his father would welcome him.
He looked at her smiling, dimpled face for a long moment—long enough that she looked away and blushed. He said, "How in the world did my father capture a lovely young woman like you?"
"I'm not that lovely," she said, still not meeting his eyes. "I'm so big right now, I don't know what Pierre must think of me."
"If he has any sense, he thinks you're beautiful," White Eagle said.
She brushed aside the compliment with a wave of her hand. "My father owns a store in Junction City," she said. "Pierre used to deliver
merchandise. I worked in the store from the time I was a little girl, and that's how we met. Pierre was always friendly to me. He used to say that I should be wearing fine, fancy clothes, instead of selling them."
"Well, he was right about that," White Eagle said.
"I...I have to admit that when he started courting me, I was quite taken aback. I never thought that an older man would be interested in someone like me. I suppose you could say Pierre swept me off my feet. He was so charming, such a gentleman."
That didn’t sound at all like the father he remembered, White Eagle thought. People could change, but there was something peculiar about this situation. His instincts told him there was more to the story than Katie was telling. Perhaps even more than she knew.
"He bought this house for me," Katie continued. "He told me to fix it up in any way that I liked. Money was no object. That was a little over a year ago. I've tried to make him proud of me and of our home."
"I'm sure he is," White Eagle said. "Only a fool wouldn't be. And my father, despite his rough edges, was never a fool."
"Oh, no. He's made me very happy."
Katie was undoubtedly sincere. White Eagle had never heard a woman sound so in love and convinced that her husband loved her in return. As he looked at her shining face, he wished for her sake that he could shake the uneasy feeling that was nagging at him.
They had been talking for quite a while. White Eagle sipped the now cool coffee and then said, "Since you don't know exactly when my father will be back, it might be better for me to go now. I can always come back later..."
"I won't hear of it," Katie declared firmly. "I want you to wait right here for him. You can have lunch with us, and I want you to stay with us. We have a spare bedroom." She blushed. "It's been turned into a nursery, but the bed is still in there, and we can push the cradle against the wall."
The prospect of spending the night in the room intended for his future half-brother or half-sister only increased White Eagle's uneasiness. He replaced the cup on the tray, put his hands on his knees, and stood up. "I don't want to put anybody out...." he began.
"Nonsense!" Katie exclaimed, as she, too, rose. Suddenly she cocked her head, as if she were listening to some sound outside. "Besides," she said with a bright smile, "I think I hear Pierre coming now."
White Eagle had noticed nothing, but now that she mentioned it, he heard the front gate squeak as it was closed. Footsteps crunched on the stone walk and clumped on the wooden porch. As White Eagle and Katie turned toward the foyer, the front door opened.
A man nearly as tall as White Eagle strode into the house. The resemblance between father and son was striking. Pierre Dandaneau was naturally lean and wiry, and a lifetime of hard work had enhanced those qualities. He wore work boots, corduroy pants, and a tan shirt. Beneath a battered black hat that was shoved back on his head was a thick, curly mass of iron-gray hair. His face was lined and weathered. He turned shocked eyes toward his wife and their visitor.
"Look who's here, Pierre!" Katie exclaimed enthusiastically. "It's White Eagle."
Pierre stood silently in the foyer for only a moment, but it seemed like an hour to White Eagle. Then, slowly, he nodded and said, "I can see that, Katie. What's he doing here?" Despite his name, his speech was unaccented. Long years away from his French-speaking parents had erased any accent he had had.
For an instant, Katie looked stricken by the blunt words. But she quickly recovered her enthusiastic expression and continued, "He's come to pay us a visit, Pierre. Isn't that wonderful? After all these years, your son has come to see you just as you're about to be blessed with another child." She gently patted her stomach.
Pierre took off his hat and hung it on the hall tree. As he stepped into the parlor, he narrowed his eyes and regarded White Eagle with suspicion. Nodding curtly, he said, "How are you, boy?"
"I'm fine, Pa," White Eagle replied, wondering if he should offer to shake hands with this man who was little more than a stranger to him. He decided against the gesture. From the look in Pierre's eyes, it wouldn’t mean much.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," White Eagle answered honestly. He glanced quickly at Katie, who was watching the reunion and trying not to look too anxious. "I thought it was time we made peace between us."
"Fine," Pierre grunted. "I hold no grudges. That take care of it?"
White Eagle felt anger building in him. Nothing had changed. All his father had to do was step into the same room with him, and they were instantly at each other's throats.
"It was a mistake," the scout said. "Just a mistake." He looked at Katie again and forced a smile. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'd better be going."
Lowering his head, he started toward the foyer and stepped around Pierre.
"Please wait!" Katie said sharply. As he glanced over his shoulder at her, she went on in a softer tone, "Please, White Eagle, don't leave yet."
"The boy said he has to go," Pierre said gruffly.
"I think we should let him do what he wants, Katie."
Acting on a sudden perverse impulse, White Eagle said, "All right, Mrs. Dandaneau. I'll wait."
"Thank you. And I told you my name is Katie." White Eagle saw that she looked more in command of herself as she turned to face her husband. "I don't know what's wrong, Pierre, but you're not acting like yourself at all. White Eagle is your son, and he's come a long way to see you. You have come a long way, haven't you, White Eagle?"
"All the way from Indian Territory," he replied. He was beginning to enjoy the uncomfortable expression that was appearing on his father's face. Beneath Katie's softness and beauty was a well of strength and determination that White Eagle was just beginning to appreciate.
"Figures," Pierre snapped. "That's where all the Kiowas are these days. I supposed you had taken up with some squaw down there."
"Like you did?" White Eagle shot back.
Katie insinuated herself between them. "Please, I don't want you two to argue. This should be a happy occasion. Please, Pierre. I know you're really happy to see your son. You just don't want to admit it."
Pierre took a deep breath. He hesitated, then stuck out a calloused hand to White Eagle. "All right, dammit," he muttered. "Glad to see you, boy. You been doing all right?"
White Eagle took his hand and returned the firm grip. "I'm fine," he said, still relishing the uncomfortable look in his father's eyes. His own nervousness had eased somewhat now that Katie was taking his side. He could tell that she intended to make this meeting a friendly one, by herself if she had to.
"Still working for the Army?" Pierre asked.
White Eagle nodded. "I had some time off coming to me, so I decided to look you up. Never expected to find that you were about to become a daddy again."
"That's enough about that!" Pierre said sharply. "It's none of your business, boy."
White Eagle held up his hands, palms out, and grinned. "Whatever you say, Pa. Whether you believe it or not, I am glad to see you. You look like the freight business has been good to you."
"We're getting by," Pierre replied curtly.
"Of course, we are," Katie said. "We're getting along just fine." She slid smoothly between the two men and linked arms with each of them. As she spoke, she guided them toward the divan. "Now, I want you both to come over here and sit down. You can have a nice long talk while I start lunch. White Eagle, you will stay, won't you?"
"I'd be honored, Katie." He nodded as he sat on the divan next to his father.
"And you'll let us put you up while you're here?"
He saw that she was a very determined young woman and wouldn’t let that one go. As uncomfortable as the idea made him, he didn’t want to argue with her. "That would be just fine," he said.
"Wonderful." She smiled brightly, obviously pleased by her efforts. Then she moved to the door of the parlor and paused to look back at the two stiff figures. "I'm so glad you came. I'm sure you'll have a fine visit."
White Eagle and Pierre exc
hanged a doubtful glance and sat in silence until Katie had disappeared down the hall into the kitchen. When her footsteps died away, Pierre looked over at him and said, "You can just forget about staying here, boy. There's no room, no matter what Katie says."
"It wasn’t my idea," White Eagle replied stiffly. "I just didn't want to offend her."
"I'll take care of that. You don't have to worry about hurting her feelings. She's my wife, and she'll do as I say."
White Eagle grinned humorlessly. "I see you haven't changed much."
"Neither have you," Pierre snapped back and glared at him. "You always were an uppity young pup."
White Eagle leaned forward and looked at his father with an earnest, serious expression. "Look, Pa, I know I made a mistake coming here. You don't want me around, and to be honest, I don't want to be here anymore. Maybe I'd best go while your wife's busy." He started to get up.
Pierre frowned and reached out, as if to touch White Eagle, but he stopped himself. "Don't be so damned hotheaded, boy," he growled. "I don't want Katie getting all upset, not in her condition. Just sit back down."
White Eagle was startled by the concern in his father's voice. Evidently Pierre was genuinely fond of Katie. The man White Eagle knew as his father would have married her simply to enjoy her young, supple body in bed for a while. Once he tired of her or she became pregnant, the old Pierre would have left, heedless of any hurt he would cause. But this Pierre clearly intended to be a husband to this young woman and a father to their child.
Taking a deep breath, Pierre went on, "You just shocked me by showing up like this, son. I didn't expect to ever see you again."
"Katie said you told her about...my mother and me."
Pierre nodded. "She wanted to know about my past, and I figured she had a right to hear about it, so she'd know what she was getting if she married me. She's never held anything against me, boy. She's more forgiving than some folks."
Ignoring the implications in the comment, White Eagle said, "I'll stay for lunch, to please Katie. But I do think it'd be best if I slept someplace else tonight."
"How long are you planning to stay in Abilene?" Pierre asked.
Rattler's Law, Volume One Page 80