“Sorry.” He rubbed his whiskered jaw. “She’s my woman. I can’t do it.”
A dark look flashed in Black Bear’s eyes, and his nostrils flared. McCullough tensed. His right hand eased toward his gun butt. Chills marched up my spine. The scent of danger caused Thundercloud to throw his head and paw the ground. When Black Bear turned and walked away, my legs folded like a newborn colt’s. I sank to the dirt.
“Scared now?” McCullough asked.
My mouth was so dry I could barely manage to croak, “Yes.”
“Come on.” With a slight chuckle he helped me to my feet and put his arm around my waist. We stumbled toward the creek. “You could use a drink.”
He knelt by the creek’s edge, dipped his bandana in the stream, and held it against my forehead. The cool water helped ease the dizzy feeling. I took the neckerchief from his hand. “Why does Black Bear want me so much?”
“Well, darlin’, he doesn’t really want you. It’s your hair he’s after.”
“My what? I don’t understand.”
He pulled a reed from the creek bank and sat crossed-legged beside me. Chewing on the stem, he sighed. “I told you. Fox medicine is powerful to these Indians. Because your hair looks so much like one, he wants it for its magic.”
I must have looked blank because he explained slowly. “The Navajo believe since the fox can be seen at dawn and dusk that it walks between the spirit world and the real world. Fox skin and hair is believed to have great healing powers. Anyone that has fox as a totem has the power of shape shifting.”
A turtle slid off a log into the water with a dull plop, and the smell of minnows and crawdads tickled my nose. I dipped the cotton neckpiece into the steam again and held it against my neck. “What’s that mean?”
He leaned back on his elbows and spit out the wilted blade. “Being able to take the shape of any animal or bird, a great advantage over your enemies. Croaking Frog is old, and the tribe is looking for a new medicine man. Black Bear is the obvious choice, but he’s young. Has a burning itch to prove himself. Having the power to shape shift and the magic of fox medicine would go a long way in gaining the tribe’s respect and confidence.”
Never heard of such a notion. Didn’t know what to think. I changed the subject. “What are you going to do now?”
He lowered his head and studied the ground. “I’ll go check the herd again. There might be one or two horses that would serve my purpose. If not, Buck has a few more years left in him.”
“We both know you won’t find any of them better than that stallion. He beats any horse I’ve ever seen.” I laughed. “Thought for a minute you just might take Black Bear up on his offer.”
He uncoiled his long legs and stood up. “It was damn tempting. That black is one in a million for sure. But darlin’, so are you.”
Heat raced up my back and crawled up my neck so fast I almost started to pant. But I held his smoky gaze without wavering. The soft sound of bubbling water, chirping birds, and wind playing with the trees mixed with the smells of green grass, wood, and creek water. Time hung sultry and heavy between us.
Don’t push him away, lass.
“Thank you.”
My voice was a whisper, but he heard. A slow smile inched its way across his strong face. Thought my heart would bust.
“I’m going back to the herd. Coming with me?”
Heart still hammering hard in my chest, I didn’t trust my legs. I shook my head. “Think I’ll just sit here for a while.”
He tugged a knife from his boot and handed it to me. “I want this one back.” He winked. “Watch out for snakes in the grass.”
I didn’t know if he meant the ones that crawled on their bellies or the ones who walked upright.
Chapter Fourteen
A few deep breaths finally slowed my stampeding heart, but the joy of McCullough’s words lingered with every beat. I watched him amble away. For such a tall man, he walked with deer like grace with long, smooth strides giving the illusion he floated across the grass. My face still burned from the heat of his bold compliment. I’d never forget that moment. Thank God I didn’t ruin it with my big mouth.
I sighed and leaned against the weeping willow surrounded by branches that dipped gracefully to the ground. A happy calmness settled next to me. For the first time in a long time my innards didn’t rumble like thunder. The feeling didn’t last long.
Guilt tugged at my sleeve. I hadn’t been fair or even nice to McCullough. How could he understand my worry and fear if I didn’t have the guts to confess it to him?
Until this morning, he’d never said a cross word to me and had put up with my temper tantrums with amused patience. Even though he’d deny it, he protected me from my time on the wagon train until now. He gave freely of his knife, gun, and saddle not to mention his horse. He even confessed after a long, tortured look deep within himself, that I could heal his wounded heart.
What had I given in return? Suspicion, mistrust, and sarcasm. I took his horse, for Pete’s sake. Oh, I told myself I would give Joe back, but deep down inside, I counted on him giving the painted gelding to me. Because of my selfishness, he had to find a new mount. Even then he tried to spare my feelings by making up a story about two horses being twice the trouble.
He deserved better. I’d acted like a spoiled kid, yet he overlooked my shortcomings because, of what? Love? Could Sassy and Big Mike be right? Did Jackson McCullough love me?
Eyes squeezed tight, I swallowed hard. Did I love him? Too afraid of that answer, I took the coward’s way out and ignored the question.
I pushed away from the tree, knelt by the creek’s edge, and stared at my floating refection. A frog jumped off its pad and stirred up the strong scent of green pond scum. I waited for the ripples to settle then studied my face in the water.
What did he see in me anyway? I had nothing to offer him. Wasn’t even pretty. My nose was a snip covered with freckles. My ears too big, Cheekbones too high.
I tossed my hat aside. Silk ribbons loosened and tangled hair spilled around me. Agggghhh! My hair was a mass of wild, unruly curls that always needed a brush and barbed wire ribbons instead of silk to hold them in place. Curls streamed down my back almost to my waist in ringlets that were always in my way, blowing about my face and getting into eyes. God, I would love to cut it. But without its mass, my head would look too little for eyes bluer than robin eggs.
I dipped my fingers in the water and slicked tousled curls that were too hot in the summer and too heavy in the winter. The image in the steam laughed. It was plumb crazy to think this mop held any kind of magic.
A twig snapped behind me. I whirled. Black Bear stood not more than two feet away from me. His dark eyes glowed like coals and never left my face. I’d just got my heart slowed down to a brisk walk, and now it was at a full gallop again. I clutched McCullough’s knife in my hand and stood ready to plunge the blade deep into the Indian’s chest. Black Bear’s white teeth flashed in a little boy’s grin, and the cute bear cub came out to play.
“No need fear Black Bear. I not harm you.”
Oh, sure, and a rattlesnake was just a piece of rope with jingle bobs on the end.
He walked toward me. My hand tightened on the knife, and I lifted my chin in defiance.
“What do you want?” Damn the tremor in my voice.
“I see much love in Tall Warrior’s eyes for his woman.”
I cringed when he reached to touch my hair. “But maybe Foxtail Woman not feel the same for Tall Warrior? He would not want her if she desired another.”
The full meaning of his words lit the fuse on my temper and burned away the fear stored up inside me. How dare he! I’d come closer to crawling in a cave with a real bear then between the sheets with this…this…son of a croaking frog!
“I love only Tall Warrior.” I snapped. “None else. Go away.”
I wasn’t prepared for the disappointment and hurt that flashed across his chiseled, red-rock face. Wide shoulders slumped. He dropped hi
s hand and backed away like a whipped pup with its tail between its legs.
Oh God. I felt sorry for him.
In a way Black Bear and I were alike. Both of us desperately wanted to prove we could stand on our own two feet and not depend on anyone. All he wanted was to show Croaking Frog that he was worthy and strong enough to be the next Medicine Man. I understood that need. If he thought my fox-red hair could gain his father’s approval, then what was the harm?
“Black Bear. Wait.” I couldn’t believe what I said next.
“I will give you powerful fox medicine if you give the black stallion to Tall Warrior.”
Excitement polished his dark eyes to glazed ebony. He stood silent and waited.
I leaned over at the waist and brought all my hair forward. With short, choppy strokes from McCullough’s knife, I sawed through the strands. I straightened, tied the severed curls in a ribbon, and handed the bundle to Black Bear. With great care and respect, he placed it in his medicine bag as reverent as if he were Moses being handed the Ten Commandments.
Standing tall and proud, he lifted his gaze from the prize and stared me straight in the eyes.
“Fox spirit will make Black Bear powerful Medicine Man, a great protector to his tribe. Heal many people. He will never forget this gift from Foxtail Woman. I give Thundercloud to Tall Warrior. I give loyalty and friendship to his woman.”
He turned to go, but I stopped him with a shout.
“Don’t tell him about our trade.”
His thick eyebrow arched, but he nodded with a grin. “Foxtail Woman do love Tall Warrior as much.”
Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe I did.
Chapter Fifteen
Oh shit! Shit! Shit!
Was I loco or just plain stupid?
I almost slipped and broke my neck on the wet rocks scrambling to the water’s edge to gawk at my refection. With trembling fingers I pulled at the choppy strands and tried to stretch them longer. I twisted and turned side-to-side, looking at the watery image. If I had pointed ears and a green face, I’d look like one of Donovan’s little leprechauns.
“You worry McCullough not love his woman with little hair?”
I jumped at Spotted Owl’s raspy voice. “How long you been standing there?”
“Long time. I see Black Bear come to stream. I follow in case Foxtail Woman need help.” A grin played at his lips. “But Foxtail Woman take care of herself. I hear and see much. How you explain no hair to McCullough?”
Huh. Good question. I needed time to think up a good answer. Until then, this beat up dirty-brown Stetson and me were going to become close friends. I jammed the hat on my head. Without a bushel of hair crammed under its cover, it slid plumb down over my eyes. Struggling to see, I tilted my head back. Spotted Owl laughed. “Foxtail Woman now Peeking Turtle.”
Wonderful. Yet another nickname.
Before I could tell him to “go to hell,” he plucked the hat off my head, bent down on one knee, and pulled reeds from the creek bank. Sitting crossed-legged in the grass, he worked the stems under the inside hatband. I eased down beside him.
Bright sunshine on my back coupled with the warm breeze on my face melted nerves strung tighter than a bow string. Spotted Owl’s nimble fingers laced the soggy shoots in and under the leather band with a spellbinding rhythm. My eyes grew heavy. I glanced away from the weaving and studied his profile. Sharp features chiseled out of hard red rock. I wondered how he and McCullough had become friends.
“Why do you call him McCullough instead of Tall Warrior?”
Without lifting his gaze, he grunted, “Was first name I know.”
“How did you meet him?”
“Two winters past, McCullough save Spotted Owl’s life. Much snow cover ground. Little food. I go hunting. My pony too weak from hunger and I fell. Broke my leg. Couldn’t move. I lay in snow until I could feel no more cold. I made peace with Great Spirit and waited for death.”
He shook the grass from the hat, reared back, and looked at it. A small grunt. He picked more stems and stuffed the brim.
“McCullough find me. He carry me to cave, made fire and splint for leg. When storm passed, he take me home to village. McCullough and Spotted Owl became blood brothers. McCullough good friend to tribe. Make peace between white men in town called Six Shooter Siding and my people.”
“How’d he do that?”
Broad shoulders shrugged. “Don’t know. But McCullough promise white man would let us live in peace as long as we stayed in mountains, and it is so. Tribe named him Tall-Warrior-That-Speak-True.”
With a grunt, he turned toward me and placed the Stetson on my head. A perfect fit. His tobacco stained lips split into a grin. I smiled back. Never would have thought something as simple as a hat could start a friendship.
“Why are you helping me?”
The toothy grin changed into a serious line, and he gazed across the stream. “Know McCullough long time. Loyal brother. But sadness always walk with him. Bad memories haunt dreams.” His glance returned to capture my eyes. “But Foxtail Woman chase bad spirits away. You give him laughter. McCullough love Foxtail Woman.”
I held his gaze for a few seconds before I ducked my head and mumbled, “Can’t figure out why he does.”
His soft chuckle made me look up from the ground. “Because Great Spirit made it so from beginning.”
“What?”
With a sweep of his hand, he cleared away the creek pebbles. Picking up a twig, he scratched two straight lines in the damp dirt, one for the ground and another for the sky. He drew two stick figures. “When Great Spirit make all that is, He not only breathe life into man but locked His soul into man’s heart. When man dies, the soul returns to the Great Spirit.”
I grinned at the small dots he made in the dirt. Stars, I reckoned.
“Little pieces of Great Spirit’s soul shine forever in night sky. Sometimes Great Spirit sends one back.”
“A shooting star, right?”
He nodded his head. “Umm.”
Fascinated with the story, I couldn’t turn away from his crude dirt drawing.
“But when two souls fall together, it is said Great Spirit has blessed them with everlasting love. These souls walk the earth together again. Over and over. Many lifetimes. This why McCullough love Foxtail Woman. And why she love him.”
I stared, open mouthed. “You think that he and I were two falling stars that happened to streak across the heavens at the same time, and because of that, we were destined to fall in love? That’s hogwash.”
His dark eyes crinkled at the corners in a silent laugh. “White Man never understand. But still, is true.”
Trying to poke holes in his story I asked, “The sky is awful big. What happens if one soul dies before the other?”
“First soul search every star until it find the second.”
“That could take forever.”
“Time not matter in the land of the Great Spirit, only love important.”
“Dixie?”
McCullough’s voice rang out across the stream. My breath caught.
Spotted Owl stood and brushed dirt from his buckskins. “I go find McCullough. Give Foxtail Woman time to think.” He winked. “But have no reason to worry. McCullough love her even if bare-headed. Is written in the stars.”
I watched him limp away until he disappeared around the bend of the creek. Spotted Owl had many years to go before he would be a grandpa, yet he sure could spin yarns like an old man.
The dirt picture stretched out before me. I lightly traced the figures with my fingertips. Was it such a silly notion, this legend of the star-soul lovers? Deep down inside I wanted to believe. Wonder if McCullough did?
“Dixie?”
Time had run out.
Taking a deep gulp of air, I stepped over the picture and walked toward the village.
Sure hope Spotted Owl was right about having nothing to fret over because underneath this hat, I looked like a skinned jack rabbit.
Chapter Six
teen
The grin on McCullough’s face stretched for a country mile.
“Darlin’, you ain’t gonna believe this, but Black Bear changed his mind. He traded Thundercloud for Buck after all.”
His joyful smile pulled one from me, and I had to laugh, even though I wondered what reason Black Bear gave him for the sudden change of heart. I walked over to the stallion and stroked his velvet nose. Already wearing Buck’s saddle and bridle, the horse pawed the ground, impatient to run.
“Wonder why he did that?” I held my breath waiting for the answer.
“Said the Great Spirit sent him a message.” He mounted up. “Thought it funny, but I wasn’t gonna ask any questions. Get Joe and meet me on the trail. I’m gotta take the edge off this rascal before he busts wide open.”
He relaxed his firm hold. With a flick of his tail, Thundercloud bolted. I half expected to see flames shooting from his hooves as he tore across the grassy plain. A shrill nicker sounded behind me. I turned. Spotted Owl walked toward me, leading a side-stepping Joe. “Painted pony wants to run too.” He handed me the reins.
My off foot had just slipped into the stirrup when Joe took off after the black. It would’ve been easier to rope the wind then hold the feisty mustang in. I settled deep into the saddle and gave him the bit. Wind whipped tears to my eyes. Trees whizzed past in a blur.
It wasn’t long before the black’s muscled rump came into view. Joe never slowed. The distance shortened. When we were only a few yards away, McCullough pulled back on reins. Both of us knew Joe would never give up. He’d chase that stallion until his heart burst. I heard McCullough’s laugh when we shot past and his shout to circle around and come up beside him.
After he passed the big horse, Joe let me check him into a slow lope then ease him down to a walk. His sides heaved. My ears rang from the sound of the wind. I reached to tug my hat lower. I felt only hair. Short, choppy hair.
Oh, hell.
Trying not to panic, I searched the trail. I couldn’t hide my boyish hair from McCullough for too long, but I counted on having more time. Damn the wind. Maybe I could find the bruised and battered Stetson before he saw me.
The Adventures of Dixie Dandelion Page 8