The Alchemy of Desire

by Crista McHugh

  “Will you be able to ride alone?”

  “Yes.” It took her a couple of tries before she mounted the pinto.

  “Where to?” Cager’s horse danced as if it were ready to run over the plains once more.

  Oni stared at the sky and then at the river. “Upstream until we come to the next river. Then follow it to the west.”

  “And that will take us where?” Diah asked as he climbed on his horse.

  She didn’t answer his question before she rode off.

  Diah pulled his jacket around his chest and shivered. The sky had decided to open its floodgates on them shortly after midday, and now that the sun was setting, the cold crept into his bones. His breath formed icy clouds around his mouth every time he exhaled.

  Oni pulled them away from the river and veered northwest. She still hadn’t told them where she was taking them, but he hoped some sort of shelter would be available. Her responses had been one or two words at the most whenever they asked her a question. He wasn’t sure if she was just exhausted or still angry with him. Maybe both.

  Even Cager was beginning to slump forward after the long, hard ride. He only hoped it was worth it and that Hinkle wouldn’t find them.

  Oni held up her hand, indicating they should stop. She slid off her horse and stared at two mounds of earth. “Jim,” she called out into the wilderness.

  His brother leaned closer to him. “I think she’s hallucinating.”

  A man’s voice called back, “Who’s out there?”

  “Maybe I’m hearing things too.” Cager raised his good arm and stuck his finger in his ear to clean it out. “Or maybe I lost more blood than I thought.”

  She ran in the direction of the noise and disappeared behind one of the mounds. “It’s Oni.”

  “How’s my little Trickster?” the voice said with a laugh.

  Diah breathed a sigh of relief. Whoever this Jim was, he was real and he knew her. He dismounted and helped Cager down. As he rounded the corner of the mound, he saw her hugging an older man.

  The man looked up. “Who are your friends, Oni?”

  Her mouth formed a tight line. “These are two of my clients, Diah and Cager Reynolds.”

  Being called a client felt like a slap in the face.

  “Well, let’s get them out of the rain, shall we?” He opened a door into the mound. “Welcome to my humble home, gentlemen. I’m Jim Matthews.”

  Diah’s jaw went lax as he peered into the one-room home that had been carved out of the hill. “What kind of place is this?”

  Jim laughed. “A dugout. Warm in the winter, cool in the summer and dry as a bone.” He shook their hands as they entered. “It’ll be kinda cramped in here, but it sure beats being out in that mess.”

  In the warm lantern light, Diah was able to get a good glimpse at their host. He looked old enough to be her father, judging by the deep wrinkles in his suntanned face, but his hair still maintained a faded shade of brown.

  Oni waited outside the door. “I’m going to put the horses in the barn, Jim.”

  The warmth could wait a few minutes. “I’ll help you.”

  “That’s not necessary, Diah.”

  “Oni, get your grizzle down and let him help.” Jim eyed the bloody sling holding up Cager’s arm. “I’m going to be taking a look at this. What happened to you, son?”

  Diah closed the door before Cager responded. He followed her to the second mound with his horse. “These dugouts are a clever idea.”

  She nodded and took the reins so he could grab his brother’s horse. When he came back to the barn, she had lit a lantern and was scattering some fresh straw on the floor.

  “Are you still angry with me?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’ve been moody and irritable all day. I think you’re in danger of forming permanent creases in your face from scowling so much.”

  She looked up at him, her expression unchanged. “Why did you strike me?”

  “I didn’t know what you were doing. You were holding a knife and Cager screamed. The first thing that popped into my mind was that you were hurting him. I’m sorry.” He sank down onto a bale of hay and rubbed the water out of his hair. Would this day ever end?

  “I told you to trust me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Wielder?”

  She crossed her arms. “I didn’t think it was any of your business. You just hired me as a guide.”

  “What else are you keeping from me, Oni?”

  She paled. “What do you mean?”

  If he had any suspicions, she’d just confirmed them. “Where do I begin?” He started at his boots for a moment before lifting his gaze and meeting hers. Time to ask the question that had been nagging him all day. “Why did you steal that vial of black fire from me?”

  Her eyes widened before she looked away. An admission of guilt, if he ever saw one. “I thought it might come in handy, and it did. If I hadn’t grabbed a few vials, we’d still be—”

  “You could have just asked me instead of taking them behind my back. I knew a few were missing.”

  “But would you have given them to me?”

  “It’s more than just that, Oni. There are so many things about you that don’t make sense, like where you disappear to each night. Or the fact that Cager and I follow you blindly to wherever you take us, such as this place. How do I know you and this Jim fellow aren’t working for Hinkle or Lamont? What if this is some kind of trap and we just fell for it?”

  Her hands balled up and her breath quickened. “How dare you accuse me of that? In case you forgot, I never wanted to step foot in Fort Pierre to begin with. Then you let Hinkle lock me up in a storeroom all night without any food or heat. After he was done with you, he was so kind as to visit me, point a gun at my head and give me this when I didn’t readily agree to help him find the White Buffalo.” She pointed at her bruised and swollen lip. “And let’s not forget that I broke my wrist and nearly got killed trying to help you escape. Oh yes, I’m just the type to lead you into a trap and sell you to the highest bidder.”

  He caught her as she stormed past him. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  She yanked her arm free and glared at him with her hands on her hips. “I asked you to trust me and you didn’t. How do you expect me to trust you?”

  She drove a knife into his heart with her words.

  “I’ll leave you here with Jim. Maybe he’ll take over the guide job, maybe he won’t. You’d probably feel better hiring a white man anyway. But as far as I’m concerned, you can find your own way home. Perhaps it’s for the best—you don’t belong out here.” She threw the barn door open and disappeared into the rainy night.

  Chapter Ten

  “Oni!” Diah grabbed the lantern and dashed out after her. The inky darkness hid her silhouette, and only the thunder answered when he called her name.

  “Let her be, son,” Jim said from the door of his dugout. “She’s long gone by now.”

  “But I can’t leave her out here in this weather.”

  He cackled. “This storm will be kinder than her temper when she’s riled up. She’ll be fine. She just needs some time to cool off. Now come inside before you catch your death of pneumonia.”

  Diah held the lantern up once more to the darkness. No sign of her. Just the sound of a coyote singing a mournful song in the distance. His shoulders sagged as he admitted his defeat and went inside.

  Cager sat shirtless at the small table with a brown jug in front of him. Dried blood crusted his arm and chest from the gaping wound in his shoulder. “What did you do now, Romeo?” He took a long drink from the jug and grinned at him.

  “I think I pissed Oni off.”

  “Let me talk to her.” He tried to rise, but Jim shoved him back in the chair.

  “You ain’t going anywhere until I’m done tending to that rifle hole in your shoulder. You just keep drinking and let me do what I need to do.” He wiped it with a wet cloth. “Of course, taking a cl
oser look at it, it may have been just a revolver that got you. Can’t tell for sure without the bullet, though. Whatever it was, you’re still one lucky bastard.”

  Diah sat down across from them. “What are you doing, Jim?”

  “He’s getting me drunk on some smooth homemade moonshine.”

  Jim made delicate swipes around the edge of the wound. “I figure it’ll hurt a hell of a lot less when I stitch you up if you’re giddy from the booze.”

  Cager offered him the jug, and Diah took a swig. It was stronger than anything he’d drunk before, choking his throat. He never thought alcohol could make his eyes water like that. At least he gained some false sense of warmth from it. Between the weather and his argument with Oni, he wondered if he would ever be free from the chill that laced his veins.

  Diah awoke to Cager’s moans the next morning. He sat up and stared at the earthen walls, trying to remember where they were. Snatches of the previous night filled his fuzzy mind. The rain. His argument with Oni. The now-empty jug of moonshine.

  “Why does the sun have to be so damn bright this early in the morning?” his brother asked from the pile of furs and blankets on the floor.

  “I don’t know.” Diah managed to get to his feet, but the room reeled like he was still drunk. Waves of nausea assaulted him. He barely made it out the door before he lost the contents of his stomach.

  After he finished retching, he heard laughter. “Not much of a drinker, are you, son?”

  Diah leaned against the wall of the dugout and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The fuzziness in his head had now given way to pounding. “Not stuff like that.”

  Jim laughed again and slapped him on the shoulder. “Let me get some coffee in you. Maybe a little hair of the dog too, huh?” He gave him a good-natured jostle, and the bile rose in his throat again.

  Cager stumbled outside and shielded his eyes from the sunlight, but he managed to maintain control of his stomach. He disappeared around the barn and returned a few minutes later wearing a lopsided grin. “You look like shit, little brother.”

  “Unlike you, I don’t get drunk on a regular basis.”

  “I wasn’t talking about that.”

  Diah followed him inside. The cool darkness of the dugout helped soothe his headache. “What were you talking about, then?”

  Jim set two steaming mugs of coffee in front of them. “No fighting between you two, got it? I don’t want to have to redo those stitches.” He checked the dressing over Cager’s shoulder. “How’s that feeling?”

  “Well enough. I would have preferred a force-healing, but I guess I’ll just have to let it heal the normal way. How long do you think I’ll be out of commission?”

  “That bullet broke your upper arm, so I guessing about a month or so.”

  “A month?” Cager ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t have that kind of time.”

  Diah took a sip of his coffee and winced. Not only was it strong enough to wake the dead, but it had the distinct twang of whiskey in it. “We’ll just have to make the best of it.”

  “Easy for you to say. You don’t have a hole in your shoulder and the equivalent of a death sentence over your head. Why the hell did you stop Oni from healing me?”

  “I’m sorry, Cager. I didn’t know what she was doing.”

  “That’s because you’re a stupid non-Wielder.”

  “Stop it, boys. All your yelling is just going to make your heads feel worse than they already do. Now, shut up, drink your coffee and let me see what I can scrounge up for breakfast.” Jim opened a trapdoor and disappeared into a small cellar, leaving them glaring at each other.

  They remained silent as Jim cooked a pot of grits and fried up some unknown meat that had a gamey flavor to it. The second cup of coffee was strong and bitter without the touch of whiskey, but after the meal, he admitted he was feeling better and offered to help clean up the dishes.

  “Let your brother do it,” Jim said. “Can’t have him sitting on his ass all day just because he’s been shot. Grab your rifle, Red, and come with me.”

  Diah silently laughed when he saw the sour expression on his brother’s face. Cager hated to do anything he considered to be women’s work.

  Dampness still clung to his jacket, but it was better than nothing as they mounted their horses and rode out into the rolling hills of the prairie. The air was fresh and clean after the rain, so different from the smoke-filled cities back East. Diah finally mustered the courage to ask, “How you do know Oni?”

  “I’m her uncle, although she’s reluctant to claim an old buzzard like me for family.” He winked. “My brother was her daddy.”

  “So you’ve known her a long time?”

  “All her life. I had a thing for her mother, Leotie, but she chose Jack over me. Not that I blamed her. He was a Wielder and a bit easier on the eyes.”

  Diah nodded. The story sounded familiar. “Why didn’t you marry her after he died?”

  Jim shrugged. “Didn’t feel right, claiming something that was my brother’s for my own. Besides, she had certain obligations to her tribe and they weren’t too keen on letting her go. She ended up marrying a chief and living out her days with the Lakota.”

  “She died?”

  “Yep.” Sadness washed over the old trapper’s face. “Five winters ago.”

  “Was her village near here?”

  “The Lakota don’t live in villages like you understand them. Camps would be more accurate. They follow the buffalo.” He studied Diah. “Why all these questions?”

  He was glad the brisk wind already made his cheeks appear pink so his flush was less obvious. “I was just curious about Oni. She didn’t share much about her past.”

  If Jim saw something more behind his words, he gave no indication of it. “The kid’s had a hard life, but most of it was due to her own choices. She refused to step into her mother’s shoes and perform her duty to the tribe, and she ended up turning her back on them when she was fourteen. Not that I blamed her after they’d abandoned her at mission school. She came here for a couple of winters, and I taught her how to track and hunt.”

  “So you’re the one responsible for how accurate she is with a rifle?”

  “I won’t deny myself a chance to brag when I get it. But I suspect her daddy’s blood had something to do with it, as well. She was quick learner.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “She left.”

  “Why?”

  “That’ll be one question you have to ask her. I woke up one morning and she was gone. Just left me a note thanking me for letting her stay here.”

  Diah welcomed the few moments of silence to digest some of the things Jim told him. He was finally getting some insight into her past and why she acted the way she did.

  “Yep, things are pretty hard for her. Not really part of her tribe and not part of the white man’s world. You can see why she’s kinda prickly at times until she gets comfortable with you, and she’ll do her best to make sure you don’t get too close to her. That’s why I asked you to come along with me this morning—to make sure you don’t judge her too harshly.”

  “She’s lied to me, stolen from me and abandoned us out here in God knows where. What am I supposed to feel?”

  Jim chuckled. “That sounds like her. My question for you is, are you completely without blame in all this?” When he didn’t answer, he added, “I thought as much.”

  “She’ll come back, won’t she?” His chest tightened as he held his breath for the answer.

  Once again, he fell under the observant eye of Jim. “She left her horse, didn’t she? She loves that damn thing. As long as it’s in the barn, she’ll be back.”

  Diah exhaled, puffing a cloud of frost around his face. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried I’d never see her again.”

  Jim starting laughing so hard, Diah wondered if the trapper had spent too many lonely winters out on the plains.

  Jim wiped his eyes when he finally gained contro
l of himself. “She must’ve really gotten under your skin, didn’t she, son?”

  Diah didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, especially when he wasn’t quite sure if it was the truth.

  They were lucky enough to shoot a mule deer and were on their way back to the dugout with it by midday. Diah noticed movement on the next hill and lifted his rifle.

  “It’s just some coyotes,” Jim said. “They smell the kill, but they’ll keep their distance. No need to waste bullets on them.”

  “But they’re little better than vermin.”

  “That’s your white man’s brain thinking. No doubt your impressions of coyotes are based on the raids on your momma’s chicken coop, right? Out here, they’re sacred animals. Never shoot a coyote unless there’s good reason to.”

  “That’s what Oni said.”

  “She would know. Tell me, have you had you any instances where one of them did more good than harm?”

  He remembered hearing how the so-called “rabid coyote” attacked the guards and locked them in the front cell of the jail, making his escape possible. He told Jim, who launched into another fit of laughter.

  “Ah, the Trickster at play.”

  “The Trickster?”

  “Yep, the Lakota and many of the other tribes around here consider the coyote a god, the Great Trickster. He’s a rascally fellow, not opposed to lying, stealing or resorting to trickery to get what he wants. He usually ends up helping man more than harming him. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get into trouble along the way.”

  “Sounds like Oni.”

  “Now you know why she got the name Mayashehchen. It’s the Lakota word for coyote. Yep, she’s definitely a little Trickster.”

  Diah watched the pack trail them but never reached the same level of comfort Jim had with them. As the shadows grew longer, the coyotes grew bolder and edged closer. He reached for his rifle.

  Jim’s voice stopped him before he took aim. “I’ve been a poor host, Diah. Perhaps I should entertain you with one of the Lakota legends.”

  He took his hand off the stock. “If you think I might enjoy it.”