by Sharon Ihle
"It seems like none of the women around here have to follow our customs," Daniel said in complete agreement. "Why do you suppose that is?"
Long Belly pondered this. "Ah, my friend, Broken Dishes is a very difficult woman, one who needs to be taught many lessons. Shall I go to the barn and beat her for you?"
The idea had merit. Thanks to Josie's conniption fit, Daniel was down to his last three plates. He hobbled over to the window, looked out on the raging storm, and said, "Thanks for the offer, brother, but I'm afraid beating a woman like that would only make her madder. She'd probably shoot us both in the head—on purpose."
Snow was blowing so thick outside, Daniel guessed it would be hard for a man to see his hand in front of his own face. The odds of Josie losing her way under such conditions and freezing to death seemed too likely to ignore.
Turning back to Long Belly, he said, "Maybe you ought to go out to the barn and check on Broken Dishes. She might have gotten lost the way that storm is blowing.''
"I will be happy to do this for you. I owe—" He stopped himself short of uttering the entire foul sentence. "I will be happy to do this for you."
"Thanks." Watching as Long Belly pulled on his coat, Daniel waited until he had started for the door before adding, "And brother? Be nice to the lady."
Chapter 7
She was lost.
She was hopelessly and frantically lost in a swirling flurry of snow so white, its glare was as blinding as the sun.
Josie wasn't new to this sort of weather. She knew full well the dangers of being lost in a blizzard. The Baum Ranch outside Miles City couldn't have been more than sixty miles to the north. Conditions there wouldn't be a whole lot different than what she was facing now. What did vary was the fact that had she been home, she'd have been able to make her way from the house to the barn easily. Here she was a newcomer, more easily disoriented than she ever would have imagined.
Pulling the hood of Daniel's jacket well around the sides of her face, Josie paused to get her bearings. How far had she run? Ten or fifteen feet? Since she couldn't see anything but white anyway, there was no sense exposing her eyes to the needle-like shards of snow. Josie kept her head down, changed her direction slightly, and used her right hand as a divining rod of sorts.
Her efforts were rewarded a moment later when her fingertips smashed into something solid. Feeling her way along the rough wooden planks until she came to a corner, Josie quickly discovered that she'd come across the wellhouse, a small building erected over an underground spring. Using its location as her guide, she followed the slight incline down from the back of the wellhouse, veering slightly to the right, and ran straight into the side of the barn, as she'd hoped.
Once she was inside the cavernous building and safe again, she leaned against a stall and let out a relieved sigh. The next time she lost her temper, Josie muttered to herself, she would go stand in a corner like any other recalcitrant child. Trying to relax, she inhaled, pulling in the warm scent of grain and alfalfa along with the clean, yeasty aroma of the animals themselves. In the chill of the frigid morning, she could see steam rising off the backs of the livestock and the trail of her own breath mingling with the animal heat in the frosty air. Her heartbeat back to normal, Josie went happily about feeding the horses, pausing to rub their noses and murmur silly greetings to each in turn, and then settled herself over the stool to milk the cow. She'd collected about a half a pail of milk with the promise of more to come when the barn door suddenly clattered open.
Glancing around the end of the stall, she saw Long Belly standing in the doorway, his hair and face framed in snow. In his hand he carried a big axe with feathers hanging off the handle.
Gripped with a very clear picture of who his intended victim must be, Josie leapt off the stool and ducked down in the stall. The cow, apparently unhappy about the fact that she hadn't finished the job, turned its big eyes on her and bellowed.
"Hush, please?" Josie whispered, grabbing the milk pail.
The cow, of course, didn't answer, but Long Belly did.
"Broken Dishes?" he shouted. "Is that you?"
That didn't make much sense—was he still going on about the plates she'd smashed?
"I come for you," the Indian said, his voice drawing closer.
Trembling in her hiding spot, it occurred to Josie that if she didn't take some kind of action, if she just sat there until the savage finally came across her, she would die like her father and brother had, a helpless victim waiting to be ravaged and scalped. Looking frantically around inside the stall, she couldn't find anything to use as a. weapon except the pail she held in her hand.
As Long Belly's shadow came into view, Josie leapt out of her hiding spot, swung the pail high over her head, and then brought it down as hard as she could on top of the Cheyenne's skull.
Long Belly groaned, milk running down his face and braids, then staggered backward and collapsed in the straw,
Josie didn't stick around long enough to find out if he was simply stunned, out cold, or even dead. She darted out of the barn and ran straight for the cabin.
When the door crashed open and an ashen-faced Josie dashed into the room, Daniel's first thought was that she'd crossed paths with one of the bears he'd warned her about. She wasted no time informing him that she'd come across an animal of a whole other kind.
"Daniel," she said, breathless. "Your brother-in-law followed me into the barn and tried to kill me."
"Kill you?" Daniel tried not to laugh, even though he was sure there must be some kind of joke corning next. "What did he do—sing?"
Josie's eyebrows drew together and held. "I'm serious. He came into the barn while I was milking the cow and went after me with his axe."
"After you?" Daniel exchanged a glance with Sissy, who looked troubled. "I sent Long Belly to the barn for you because I was afraid you might have gotten lost in the storm."
"Hah." She laughed, but there was no mirth in her expression. "How did you figure he was gonna save me with an axe?"
Daniel chuckled, understanding how she might have gotten the wrong idea. "Long Belly took the axe to split a few more logs because we're running low on firewood."
She thought about this a moment, then glanced at Sissy. "He really wasn't planning to kill me with that axe?"
Sissy shook her head. "It's like Daniel says. We thought you was lost."
Feeling like an idiot, Josie sighed heavily. "I sure thought different, especially since he was still going on about those damned dishes I broke."
"I don't know why Long Belly would care about the dishes," Daniel said. "They're mine."
She looked up, only mildly repentant. "Oh. Sorry."
He came a little closer, bearing some weight on his bad leg. Thanks to the job she'd done cleaning the infection from his wound, Josie figured Daniel wasn't but two, maybe three weeks away from being healed. That seemed payment enough for a couple of broken plates. Unless, of course, she'd managed to kill his brother-in-law—a definite possibility considering the fact that she'd pasted Long Belly so hard with that pail.
Assuming she hadn't out and out killed the savage, Josie knew that sooner or later he would return to the cabin. What then? Long Belly may not have had murder on his mind when he went to the barn, but he most surely would be thinking along those lines when set eyes on her again. And there would be no one to come to her rescue. There was no way that Daniel would be so quick to come to her defense once he realized that she'd been the one with murder on her mind.
"Where's the milk and eggs?" he asked, back to the subject of the barn.
"The...?" Josie slapped her forehead. "I was so frightened, I forgot all about my chores. Maybe Sissy can go after them."
Daniel glanced out the window and shook his head. "The way this storm is blowing, I think we'd better leave the outside chores to Long Belly for the time being. It's easy to get disoriented in a blizzard like this. I'm surprised you made it to the barn and back without getting lost."
Of course she had no intention of telling him now or ever that she'd done just that, but Josie used the opening to bring up a worrisome problem.
"Since things are so bad out there," she said hesitantly. "Maybe someone ought to go check on Long Belly—you know, to make sure he's all right."
"Check on Long Belly?" Daniel hooted a laugh.
"But what if he's fallen... or had an accident?"
"If he's fallen, he'll get up. As for an accident—" Daniel eyed her with suddenly suspicious eyes. "Is there something else I ought to know about?"
Wide-eyed, Josie felt her entire face tighten with feigned innocence. "No, no, it's just that anyone can have an accident in a barn full of tools and such."
Daniel kept corning at her until he'd trapped her between his body and the table: "Sissy," he said, never taking his eyes from Josie's face. "If you walk in a straight line from the porch, you can't help but run into the barn. Think you can manage to go out and check on Long Belly?"
''Sure."
Without so much as asking Josie's permission, Daniel spun her around and stripped his jacket off her shoulders. Then he handed it to Sissy, saying, "Wear this, and remember—a straight line,"
After she'd gone, Daniel spun Josie back around and turned his attention on her with particular interest in her apparel—the red satin robe. "What really happened out there in the barn?" he asked.
"Nothing." Time for a change of subject. No question about it. "You sure look nice this morning. Did you shave or something?"
Although Daniel didn't entirely lose his skeptical expression, he rubbed his jaw and nodded self-consciously. She'd meant to distract him, not herself, but suddenly all Josie could think about was his damp, clean hair and the expanse of smooth, swarthy skin from his forehead to his waistband. Now that she could see his entire face, she also noticed that he was far more handsome than she'd realized. She could almost forget about the Cheyenne blood thundering in his veins.
Even Daniel's eyes seemed a brighter shade of blue this morning, and clean-shaven, there was nothing to disguise his wicked smile or the way his full lips parted at her undisguised appraisal of them. Josie could hardly believe that she'd kissed those sensuous lips last night. Would he offer more of the same tonight?
The storm couldn't last much longer, she figured, a day or two at the most. In the meantime, why not enjoy a few more stolen moments in Daniel's arms? She suppressed a little shiver of pleasure at the thought, recalling the way he'd kissed her, his lips gentle and teasing against her mouth one minute, passionate and demanding the next. He wouldn't be pressing her for more than kisses, believing her diseased. It would be safe to indulge her curiosity. Suddenly Josie could hardly wait for the night to come.
Daniel leaned into her then, his mouth moving toward hers in a way that promised the delights of the night were hers for the taking now if she'd wanted them that badly, and then suddenly the cabin door banged opened, robbing her of the opportunity.
Daniel wheeled around with the aid of his crutch to see that Long Belly and Sissy had returned. The Cheyenne's arms were full of wood, and a lump the size of Texas stood out on the left side of his forehead. Buttery milk stained the front of his glorious buffalo robe, and clumps of it were curdled in his braids. He also, Josie couldn't help but notice, had a firm grip on his axe. She began to back toward the stove.
"Holy hell," said Daniel, horrified by Long Belly's appearance. "What happened? Did the cow decide she didn't want you to milk her after all?"
Long Belly dropped the load of wood near the door. "The cow was calm. I was clumsy, an accident."
"An accident, huh?" Daniel shot Josie a suspicious glance.
Sissy, who carried the milk pail and a few eggs in the pocket of Daniel's jacket, headed for the counter to dump her load. Josie slinked along behind her, using her buffalo hair as a shield.
"An accident, yes," said Long Belly, protecting Josie for reasons she couldn't imagine.
After that statement, the savage finally cast a furtive, wary glance her way, but didn't meet her eyes or make a move in her direction. Instead, he crossed the room and disappeared up the ladder. What was his game? Josie wondered. Was he waiting to get her alone before lighting into her, too embarrassed to let Daniel know that a female had ambushed him? Or figuring on sneaking up as she slept to get his revenge? She had no doubt he'd be seeking his pound of flesh, one way or another.
As Sissy lined the eggs up on the counter, Josie impulsively said, "Need some help?"
"Cooking? I thought you'd rather die than get stuck fixing us a meal."
Keeping her voice low, she said, "I meant that I'd rather die than take orders from that savage, not that I expected you to do everything. Besides, I was under the impression you weren't supposed to lift a finger around here. Aren't you afraid the buffalo spirit will sneak out of you if you get to working with the pots and pans?"
Sissy, not one prone to frivolity, chuckled under her breath. "I figure if I don't want to get poisoned by the food or the filth on them dishes around here, I'd best tend to such chores myself."
"l have to admit that I've been kinda washing the dishes up before I eat off them, too. Have you taken a good look at the stove?"
Sissy didn't bother to look at it. She simply nodded. "There's enough grease stuck to its topside to sweeten every skillet in all the Territories."
Josie snickered, still hiding behind Sissy's hair. "They're a couple of pigs, aren't they?"
For the first time that Josie could remember, Sissy actually laughed, not a gut-rolling chortle, but open-mouthed giggles, the way Josie figured girlfriends behaved. Feeling close to Sissy in ways she never imagined she would, she took up the plate she'd washed and began to dry it with the sheepskin lining of Daniel's coat.
"When's your birthday?" she asked, caught by a sudden idea.
Sissy stopped in the middle of the pan she was scrubbing, and frowned. "Don't have one."
"Of course you do. You must know how old you are."
This time Sissy kept on scrubbing. "Don't know for sure. About twenty, I expect."
This was a shock to Josie, and not just because Sissy obviously didn't know her true birthday. She had assumed that Sissy was older, certainly beyond her own twenty-three years. Her skin was surprisingly smooth and bronzed, but her eyes and general manner were aged, too hollow for a woman of twenty.
Wanting to make up for the void somehow, Josie said, "Everyone should have a birthday. Since we don't know the exact date of yours, why don't we proclaim Thanksgiving as your official birthday? That way you'll always remember when to celebrate."
Instead of the response Josie had hoped for, Sissy merely shrugged. "Don't make no never mind to me. I ain't never had no reason to celebrate the day I was born, and I don't expect that I'll have reason to in the future."
Instead of discouraging Josie, Sissy's lackadaisical attitude only served to fire her imagination. She vowed then and there to make sure that Sissy was remembered on her birthday—even if, heaven forbid, they were still stuck in this godforsaken cabin on Thanksgiving Day.
Across the room, Daniel made a show of putting the finishing touches on Josie's boots, but mostly he was just trying to listen in on the women's conversation. All he'd heard so far were murmured exchanges and a few giggles, nothing that made any sense. Then, adding to the confusion, Long Belly returned to the group carrying one of his long-sleeved shirts and a pair of fringed leggings—which he then gave to Josie.
"What are you doing?" Daniel blurted out, surprised he'd voiced the thought.
"Broken Dishes needs something to wear other than her skinny dress or your heavy coat."
"Broken Dishes?" said Josie.
"Your new name," Daniel explained, irritated all at once. "How do you like it?"
Instead of answering him, she turned to Long Belly and thanked him for the clothes, then huddled with Sissy again.
Daniel had, of course, recognized that Josie needed something other than the flimsy dress—why the hell d
id she think he was sitting here stitching up a pair of damned boots? The fact that Long Belly, whom Josie feared and loathed, had thought of a solution to her lack of clothing, much less provided that solution out of his own meager wardrobe, stuck in his craw like the thigh bone of a chicken.
"Shall we go outside, my brother?" Long Belly suggested, heading for the door. "And leave Broken Dishes her privacy for dressing in her new clothes?"
Irritated all over again, this time by the fact that he hadn't thought of the simple courtesy himself, Daniel nearly broke his other leg in his haste to join his perplexing brother-in-law outside.
"All sight, you sneaky bastard," said Daniel the minute the cabin door was closed behind them. "Why the sudden change of heart about Josie? It wasn't an hour ago that I had to all but chain you to the wall to keep you from beating her."
Laughing to himself, Long Belly stepped off the porch and took the opportunity to relieve himself as he explained. "You said to be nice, did you not?"
"Well, yes." Daniel joined him, even though working his way down the icy steps was slow work. 'I figured nice couldn't hurt, but the way you're spoiling her, she won't be worth a damn. She already wasn't worth a damn when you brought her here—now she'll be even more worthless."
Turning his back to the furious snowstorm, Long Belly said, "Broken Dishes was a very bad gift. I have already told this to you, and I believe it still, but I also think she may be a good woman yet. A very strong woman, in the Cheyenne way."
Daniel stood there staring in shock for so long, his dick damn near froze in his hand. As he adjusted his clothing, he recognized that something ugly and foreign was warming inside him, an insidious thing he ought to stamp out before it caught fire. Still, he couldn't help wondering—was Long Belly trying to claim Josie as his own? He had, after all, and on more than one occasion, offered to take her to his bed and teach her a thing or two. The very thought made Daniel want to tear out the man's throat.
"Just what happened out there in the barn, brother?" he demanded. "The truth—all of it."