It was one thing that he’d been so brazen about it, flinging the blanket off to reveal such a shockingly intimate part of his body to me, but it was another thing entirely how it had made me feel. At first, I’d been appalled, as I should have been. No gentleman would ever do as he had, certainly not in front of a woman he respected. But I couldn’t help being drawn to it on a primal level. It was fascinating and so different from my own anatomy, hard and proud and tall, but it looked velvety to the touch. My body reacted to it, my female parts convulsing as if they sensed it and knew it was a gift meant for them. I swore everything between my legs melted into a pool of hot liquid, throbbing with need. No self-respecting woman would react in such a way, certainly not the good girl I’d been taught all my life to be.
Yet, I wanted to touch it. After I asked, I wished I could take the words back. How humiliated he must have been at my audacity. He must have thought twice then about continuing any association with me. I was horrified. Since I’d met Emmett Wilder, I’d become a confused mess. It would be a relief to get to Randall’s home so I could get my mind and body under my control again.
But then he’d said he dreamed of me. Why would he dream of me? No one had ever been happy to see me. Not ever. To my father and brother, I was a tool to be used for whatever task needed to be done, or to buy and sell in whatever way got them the highest profit. To my mother, I hadn’t really existed beyond her blank, apathetic shell. I supposed at one point maybe Beth had cared about me, but after what I did to Isaac, she’d probably been happy to see me go. Daisy and Nellie had never really liked me much.
Emmett rested his hand on my arm. “Lydia…” he said
At that moment the man who’d brought us to the camp threw open the door. He and the woman who’d been tending Emmett entered, followed by another man and a white woman dressed in Indian clothes.
The second man carried himself with authority. His demeanor implied he was used to being listened to and obeyed. I didn’t need to be introduced to know he was a leader. The white woman wore her blonde hair in Indian braids, and had a calm, confident air about her.
“Welcome to our home,” she said. “My name is Heova’eke—Yellow Hair Woman. This is my husband, Mantotohpa—Four Bears. He is chief of our clan. This woman is Votoneso—Little Feathers. She is our healer, as you know already. And this man is Avonaco—Leaning Bear. He is our most respected warrior.”
“We’re pleased to meet you,” Emmett said. “My name is Emmett Wilder, and this is Lydia Templeton.”
Yellow Hair Woman translated, and Four Bears asked Little Feathers a question. “My husband asks the extent of your injury, and when you’ll be well enough to be up.”
“What did Little Feathers say?” I asked.
“She said he should be up soon, tomorrow probably.”
I looked to Emmett for confirmation and he nodded his agreement. I couldn’t wait for him to be well so we could leave. This trip had gone wrong from the very beginning, and I was ready for it to get back on track. I doubted anything Randall had in store for me could compare to what we’d been through in the last few days.
Four Bears spoke, and Yellow Hair Woman translated. “You will join us for a meal tomorrow and we will talk further.”
Leaning Bear said something to Four Bears, jerking his head in my direction. My stomach twisted at his attention. He’d been observing me for days—since they found us in the cave, actually—and I didn’t like it at all. He watched me like a starving man craving a Sunday feast.
I didn’t know what Four Bears said to him, but Leaning Bear didn’t seem happy about it. He spun and stomped out of the tent. Four Bears said a few more words to Yellow Hair Woman, then followed Leaning Bear out.
“What was that all about?” Emmett murmured to me.
“I wish I knew,” I said. “But it made me uneasy, whatever it was.”
“You should not be uneasy,” Yellow Hair Woman said.
“What did Leaning Bear say? If I know that, maybe I can relax.”
“It was a problem between Leaning Bear and Four Bears.”
“Oh, okay,” I said. “May I ask you a question?” When she nodded, I continued. “How did you end up living here? Married to Four Bears?”
She kneeled near us, as did Little Feathers. “I was a child when Four Bears’ father, Fast Horse, found me. My family had been traveling across the prairie when we contracted cholera. My parents both died before Fast Horse found me and my baby brother. I was only six, but Fast Horse adopted us into his family. By the time I turned fourteen, Four Bears and I knew we wanted each other, so we married. My brother married into another clan.”
“You never wanted to go back?” I asked.
“To the whites? No. I didn’t have much memory of my life before living with the People. All I remembered was cranky, old, demanding, mean people. I was happy with Fast Horse and his family, and I’ve been happy with Four Bears. I have a purpose here. Everyone is my family. I couldn’t go back to a world where they think they need to slaughter the people I love.”
I couldn’t meet her gaze. I lived in a world where Indians were a savage scourge—they butchered innocent white farmers and homesteaders, they disrupted the progress of the intercontinental railroad, they were lawless, godless heathens. My father and brother, and every other preacher I’d ever met railed against Indians, not to mention soldiers and politicians all condemned them as inhuman.
I had difficulty seeing them as anything else, but they’d saved Emmett and they’d fed me and been kind and respectful. They’d taken Yellow Hair Woman and her brother in and given them a home and family. Would a white family have taken in a couple of Indian children and raised them as their own? I doubted it. That made me uncomfortable.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Emmett said. To Little Feathers he said, “And thank you for saving my life.”
At the translation, Little Feathers transformed into a shy girl, her smile sweet, and her nod of acknowledgment bashful.
“Now that your man is awake, would you like to take some fresh air, and maybe bathe?” Yellow Hair Woman asked.
It took me a moment to realize she spoke to me. “Oh, he’s not my man,” I said. “But yes, I would like some fresh air. And a bath would be nice. Thank you.”
Yellow Hair Woman stood and headed for the door, waiting for me to join her.
“You’ll be okay without me?” I asked Emmett.
He looked troubled, but nodded. “Be careful.”
I hadn’t had any fresh air for days, and after the stale scents of sick, ripe humans, and heavy campfire smoke I was happy to get outside again, even in a cold Wyoming winter right after a blizzard. I didn’t smell all that fresh, myself.
I huddled inside my coat, but took a deep lungful of the crisp air, releasing much of my anxiety as I exhaled.
A series of lodges, some larger than others, comprised the camp. All vented smoke from the top flaps. Despite the temperature, men, women, and children bustled around the grounds doing chores, visiting, or in the case of the children running and chasing each other and playing games.
Yellow Hair Woman stopped at a lodge in the middle of camp. “Come. This is my home.”
Inside, a fire crackled in the central fire pit, rolled bedding, and a variety of utensils, gear, shields, weapons, and rucksacks were stored around the periphery. Furs and skins covered the floor. It was cozy and homey.
She went to a section of the wall where clothing hung and selected something from a hook, then we headed back outside.
“The women like to gather in our own lodge to wash and talk and relax, but we can sit outside for a few minutes if you’d like,” she said, indicating a log outside another, larger, tent. It sounded particularly boisterous inside, with female voices and laughter floating out from behind the entrance.
I took a seat and turned my face to the sun, closing my eyes to enjoy what little heat it provided in the winter air.
“Where are you from?” Yellow Hair Woman asked.
“Originally, from Ohio, but my father was a traveling preacher, so we lived out of a tent and a suitcase my entire childhood. I live in Nevada now.” At least I had until recently. Now I wasn’t sure where I called home. I opened my eyes and looked at her. “Where are you from?”
“I was born in Pennsylvania. My father was taking us to California when they died.”
“Do you ever see your brother?”
She smiled. “Yes. When the clans gather, and he often comes to visit.”
I shivered, and tucked my hands deeper into my pockets.
“Are you ready to go inside?” she asked, indicating the entrance.
I was reluctant to, but the need for fresh air had to be balanced against the need to avoid frostbite. Besides, even though it had been several days, the memory of nearly freezing to death in the cave was still fresh in my mind, so I followed her inside. Even so, as a white woman, and an outsider, I was apprehensive to step into a room full of native women.
“Yes.”
Inside, women and girls in various states of dress and undress gathered together in groups around a couple of fire pits eating, laughing, washing, and working. When we entered, they all stopped and looked at us. Silence fell, and I had to stop myself from cringing and hiding behind Yellow Hair Woman.
Instead, she introduced me, speaking first in her language, then translating for me. “This is Lydia Templeton. She is our honored guest. Please make her feel at home.”
The women all smiled, nodded, and went back to what they’d been doing.
“You may leave your coat here near the door.”
After I removed my coat, I followed her deeper into the lodge. She stopped at a group surrounding a large basin of water. Two adult women, and one young woman in her teens were stripped to the waist, washing themselves, and several naked children who I assumed belonged to the women wrestled and darted in and out between them all.
Yellow Hair Woman handed me the clothing she’d retrieved from her home. “This should fit you. You can wear it while we wash your clothing.” As she removed her shoes and knelt to join the group, she introduced the women. “This is Sitting With, Stringing Beads, and Walks Nice.”
After she seated herself, she began to undress, leaving me decidedly awkward standing there among the half-naked women.
Sitting With looked up at me and said, through Yellow Hair Woman, “Sit, join us and bathe. You smell ripe.”
The rest of the women giggled and gestured for me to join them. My neck and face flushed hot as I sank to my knees.
They chatted comfortably amongst themselves, as if it was perfectly normal to be nude amid friends and family, but I couldn’t bring myself to disrobe in front of strangers. I tried to imagine Beth, Daisy, Nellie, and me doing the same, or any group of white women sitting companionably bathing. The image wouldn’t form in my head.
I sat quietly, hoping they’d forget I was there, but a few moments later Sitting With, who seemed to be the eldest—and most forward—of the women, gestured to my blouse and said something. I looked to Yellow Hair Woman.
“She said you can’t wash with your clothes on.”
With their attention fixed on me, they tittered all around, waiting for me to comply. Walks Nice jerked her chin in my direction and said something to Stringing Beads. They both laughed and smiled.
“They think you should be called Red Face Woman,” Yellow Hair Woman said. I blushed even more and wished I could control it. Instead, I looked down at my lap hoping to hide it. She beamed at me. “It’s a good name. It fits you.”
Sitting With was singled-minded, and not interested in my new name. She made a disgusted sound and reached over to undo the buttons of my blouse.
“I can do it,” I said, leaning away from her. I moved my fingers slowly to my blouse and fiddled with the top button at my neck. The women watched as I unbuttoned each and peeled the blouse off, then my undergarments until I was bared to the waist.
I fidgeted under their bald attention, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Yellow Hair Woman laid a hand on my shoulder. “They’re curious. I’m the only white woman they’ve ever seen. They say your skin is beautiful, like a white buffalo, and your nipples are the pretty pink of a peony.”
No one had ever seen my breasts before, and I’d never seen another woman’s. It seemed strange, abnormal, wrong, but when I glanced up at the other women they all smiled at me, encouragement and friendship in their eyes. Stringing Beads handed me a cloth and gestured to the basin, urging me to bathe with them. Once I accepted the gesture, they all went back to their conversations and their own washing as if I’d been part of their group all along. They were unashamed, comfortable and at home in their own skin, whereas I always undressed and dressed quickly, at perpetual unease with my body.
I tried to watch them without gawking. Although I was used to a wide range of hair and eye color among whites, these women’s skin varied from light fawn to warm, dark mahogany, and their nipples were mostly dark brown. All of them had black hair, high cheek bones, black and brown eyes, and warm, friendly smiles. Yet, they were as distinctive as the many shades of the rainbow. I found myself relaxing and enjoying their company, even though I didn’t understand any of the conversation, other than when Yellow Hair Woman translated interesting bits and pieces of gossip. The warm water and company refreshed my skin and my spirit.
I wondered if Emmett had found anything to keep him busy. They did things differently here, but if it took a few more days for Emmett to heal enough for us to be on our way, I didn’t think I’d mind being held up.
The next day I felt remarkably better. Ravenous hunger rumbled my stomach, and I fidgeted on my blankets, ready to get up and about. Little Feathers had stayed with me all night—not my first choice of companion as it turned out she snored like a hibernating bear. She fussed around with me all day, feeding me and finding clothing for me, but every time I tried to ask, or gesture, or in any way hint about leaving, she shook her head and went on an angry rant. I finally gave in to the fact that I’d be stuck with her in a smoky tent until they sent for us.
I hadn’t seen Lydia at all after she left the previous day, leaving me to wonder what she’d gotten herself up to. Given her propensity for getting caught up in trouble, I figured I’d better find her. The people here seemed friendly enough, if a little cautious—though I could see how that was justified—so I didn’t think they’d do anything to harm her. Even so, I worried about her, and missed her.
Finally, just when I thought I’d scream from the need to get up and move, Yellow Hair Woman came for us.
Little Feathers had given me the buckskin pants, but she also gave me a shirt. I threw my coat over the top of it all, and stepped out into the cold air.
“Where’s Lydia?” I asked.
Several days post-blizzard, the sharp, clear air refreshed my spirit. The sun, although dazzling as it dipped toward the horizon, did little to heat the world, even if it did make the couple feet of fresh snow sparkle like stars in a night sky.
“She’s waiting for us.”
Yellow Hair Woman led us to a lodge large enough to seat most of the camp. Inside, several fire pits burned, heating the space and cooking a meal that made my stomach rumble again, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything substantial for several days.
Bodies filled the room, two and three deep, crowded together in small groups. I scanned the space for Lydia, and almost missed her.
She sat next to Yellow Hair Woman, who was on Four Bears’ right. He had ensconced himself at the head of the table, if there had been a table, with Leaning Bear hunkered on his other side. Directly behind Lydia several other women leaned in her direction, chatting with her and Yellow Hair Woman.
Lydia wore a buckskin dress, with her hair plaited in a pair of braids, each of which left several inches of light brown waves loose at the ends. Her glasses rode low on her nose, and even from the door I noticed her amber eyes glitte
ring in the firelight. Her smile lit up her face in a way I hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing yet. It hinted at what a happy, relaxed Lydia looked like, and I wanted to see that smile more often. More than that, I realized I wanted to be the one to put that smile on her face.
For now, I’d satisfy myself with sitting next to her and sharing in the glow of her happiness.
I picked my way through the people until I stood next to Lydia.
“Hello, sweetness.”
She looked up at me and beamed. “Hello. You look well.”
“I almost didn’t recognize you from across the room. You look so much different.”
Worry clouded her eyes, and her hand went to her hair, fiddling with it. “Is different bad?”
I sank down beside her, grunting at the pain in my side. That I’d put that worry in her eyes troubled me. Taking a lock of her hair between my fingers, I lifted it and rubbed the softness of it over my lips. “You’re a beautiful woman, Lydia. I’ve been wondering what your hair looked like not gathered into that tight bun.” I inhaled, catching a whiff of something floral in her hair.
She blushed that pretty rosy color I liked so much. “And?”
I brushed the lock of hair behind her ear and leaned in close to tell her, “You’re a temptress, sweetness.”
When I pulled back, the look in her eyes made my heart squeeze. She wanted to trust me, but doubt eclipsed her pleasure at the compliment. I wanted to strangle whoever had put that doubt there. I suspected Randall played a role, and my fingers itched to get around his neck. It was one more reason to dislike him.
Four Bears raised his voice and the overall volume fell to a murmur. Yellow Hair Woman translated for us.
“We are gathered here to welcome our guests. Leaning Bear and his warriors found them freezing in a cave and brought them here. He could have left them and been on his way, but he saw that they were lost and injured and made the honorable choice to help them.”
Leaning Bear and several men nearby all sat taller, basking in the attention. In truth, they’d done a brave thing. For any native these days, interaction with whites was a tricky prospect because they were more likely to be killed than be thanked for their trouble. From their perspective, whites had to be worse than a plague of locusts.
Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) Page 14