by Sharon Ihle
"Yes, Ma Jofess." More rustling of buckskins. Then a husky voice again, but closer, at her ear. "Stump Horn and his knife meant to kill us. You put the big bullet in his heart."
Josie had to think about that for a minute before it made sense. Then she remembered taking Daniel's gun from the shelf and firing it at one of the savages. Her eyes flew open again.
"Are you two all right?" she asked, looking from one to the other.
They nodded in unison. Then the boy at her ear—Bang, she thought—lifted the animal-shaped bag at his neck, gave her a shy smile, and said, "Is not bad medicine. Is from my belly."
Again it took her a minute, but Josie finally decided that he must be referring to his umbilical cord, and that his mother had sewn it inside the bag as part of a Cheyenne ritual.
"Thank you for telling me," she said, pleased by the child's small offering of friendship. "I guess in that case it's only fair to let you know that my cookies aren't poisoned, and never were."
"Pa said so to us." Two Moons, who'd been silent but curious until then, slipped back into his usual belligerent attitude. "You lie."
Josie's weary gaze flickered over the boy, noting that his large dark eyes still burned with something akin to hatred whenever he looked at her. Bang muttered something to him in Cheyenne, and Two Moons responded with a series of quick, biting words that sounded as if they were curses or the like. Josie didn't need to understand the language to know that the twins were arguing over her, and that the hatred Two Moons felt carried far more clout than his brother's tiny show of sympathy. Bang struggled against his twin's arguments for a moment, but then dissolved into tears about the same time his father came back into the cabin.
"Oh, hell," Daniel said, shrugging out of his jacket. "Now what?"
Two Moons quickly ran to him, babbling in his native language and pointing to Josie. Daniel glanced at her and frowned. By then Bang was at his side telling his version of the trouble. When the second twin finished, Daniel said something to both boys in Cheyenne that sent them scurrying up the ladder, leaving him alone with her.
"You saved my boys," he said, sitting down beside her. "I'll never be able to thank you enough. Never."
She wanted to shrug, but thought better of it. Her cheeks were warm with embarrassment. "Anyone would have shot that no-account heathen for going after helpless children with a knife."
"It wasn't just anyone. It was you."
There was something too intimate in Daniel's voice, too profound for Josie to face or accept. She closed her eyes.
"Try to stay awake a little longer," he said. "How are you feeling? Throat hurt?"
Her eyes popped open. "It stings a little, but it doesn't hurt near as much as the inside of my head does. What did you give me to drink?"
"Whiskey." His mouth twisted into a sideways grin. "Want some more?"
Josie's stomach rolled. "No, thank you. I could use a little tea. I don't suppose you have any?"
Daniel shook his head. "Sorry, fresh out. How about some ham and fried potatoes? I cooked some up for supper earlier. There's plenty left for you."
At the very thought of food, Josie's belly clenched in painful spasms. "No," she said. "All I want is to rest a while." Then she closed her eyes again, this time intending to keep them that way, and settled deeper into the pillow.
"Don't go to sleep on me, Josie. Not yet." He gently patted her cheek. "I have to talk to you."
With a carefully controlled yawn, one that didn't pull her stitches too much, she rubbed the weariness from her eyes and said, "Can't it wait until morning?"
"Morning is what I want to talk about." He rose and began to remove his clothing. "I know you're in a certain amount of pain, but that cut isn't very deep. It seems to me that you should be able to tend the animals by tomorrow night. What do you think?"
"I suppose I could if I had to, but why would I have to? You've hardly let me near the barn since we got back from the mission."
Stripped down to his woolen drawers, Daniel blew out the lamp and slipped beneath the blankets beside her before he answered. "I have to head out first thing in the morning to try and find the women and children those two renegades left behind. I may not make it back before nightfall."
Panic gripped her at the thought. "But Daniel—you can't leave me here alone in the dead of winter. What if something happens to you?"
"I'll be fine," he assured her in the darkness. "And you won't be alone. Bang and Two Moons are here. They could really be a big help to you if you'd just give them a chance."
Josie wanted to laugh, but restrained herself. "I'd rather take my chances alone, thank you than with that pair."
"Why the do you have so much trouble getting along with my boys?" Daniel's voice was sharp with impatience. "I can't leave you alone with the twins for two minutes without your upsetting them or making them cry. Is it asking too much for you to try and be nice to them?"
Josie paused for a deep breath, long enough anyway to keep from saying something she'd probably regret. Besides, nothing she said would convince him that his little pisspots were anything but precious angels who craved her approval. He would never believe that at least one of them would have loved to have seen her dead.
"I do try to be nice to those boys," she finally said. "We don't seem to be able to communicate too well, I guess, but I really am trying with them. I saved their hides from that crazy savage, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did, and I already told you how grateful I am for that." Daniel slipped his arm around her shoulder, then nuzzled the back of her ear as he said,. "The boys are grateful, too, believe me, and want to learn to get along with you. Will you give them another chance while I'm gone?"
Tears stung her eyes and an unreasonable rage rent the walls of her chest. "No, because I don't want you to leave at all. Why must you go?"
"For one thing, as the Cheyenne's agent, it's my job." Daniel pulled her more fully into his aims and kissed her softly on the mouth. "For another, even if it wasn't my job, I'd have to go. Surely you understand that."
"No, I don't." Josie didn't want to understand and she didn't want to be reasonable. She just wanted Daniel. "It's too risky for you. You said yourself that even the cattle couldn't survive another blizzard like the last. What makes you think you can?"
"I can because I have to. Do you want me to leave those helpless women and children out there to starve or freeze to death?"
She could hardly say "yes" to that. In fact, she wouldn't have wanted him in the same bed if he turned out to be the kind of no-account bastard who could stay with her in favor of rescuing those poor unfortunates. But she was damned if she had to like it. Josie knew Daniel was right on all counts, knew that of course he had to go, but God, how she hated him and their circumstances at that moment. She hated Daniel McCord almost as much as she hated his sense of honor and the fact that he was compelled to do the right thing. Somewhere deep inside, Josie had to admit that her reaction probably meant that she loved him a little bit, too.
* * *
The next morning before dawn, Daniel woke up with a start. He'd dreamed that the two renegades had awakened from death, crept away from the temporary and frozen tomb he'd prepared for them in his wellhouse, and were stalking him inside his own cabin. He listened intently, hearing nothing but the wind and the sound of his own heartbeat thundering through his ears. He laughed out loud at his own far too realistic imagination.
"Daniel?" Josie whispered. "What is it?"
He rolled toward her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I woke up in the middle of a dream."
"You didn't wake me. I've been lying here for some time now trying to figure out a way to keep us all together. I was thinking that maybe the boys and I should go with you this morning."
"Absolutely not. Not only does it sound like another storm might be on the way, who would feed the animals if we all leave? We even have an extra horse now, thanks to our uninvited guests, and it's going to need a lot of care over the next few days
. If that isn't enough to convince you, think of your poor Sweetpea—she'd never forgive you if you left her alone."
She grumbled a little, irritated by all the sound arguments he'd thrown her way, but snuggled closer to Daniel anyway. "What if I think of a way to make you stay here with me?"
Before he knew what she was up to, Josie had slipped her hand inside his drawers and found what he was quite unable to hide. Although Daniel rippled with a rush of pleasure at her touch, his Cheyenne education in the ways of women during their monthly bleeding was enough to dampen his ardor.
"Keep that thought," he said, removing her hand from his drawers. "Maybe by the time I get back, you'll be able to show me what you had in mind."
"I can show you now," she insisted, draping one of her legs across his hip in open invitation. Again her hand went to his crotch, this time fondling him through the woolen material. "Believe me, I doubt this will delay your trip much."
The last thing Daniel was worried about was losing time on the trail. "It's not that I don't want you, sweetheart—you know that I do and how much—but don't we have to wait until your, ah, you know, monthlies are over?"
"Oh, that." She laughed softly. "Those Indian friends of yours must have scared all that right out of me yesterday morning. Near as I can figure, my monthly stopped the minute that savage put his knife on my throat."
Tangle Hair's female concerns had always kept her at the women's special lodge for upwards of a week, never less. A single day was unheard of.
"You're sure it's all right?"
"I'm sure."
Josie increased her efforts on his behalf, making it difficult for Daniel to remember why he'd resisted in the first place.
Then she said, "Are you going to waste what little time we have before those heathen twins of yours wake up, or are you going to give me a good and proper farewell?"
There was plenty of good in what Daniel did next, but not one hell of a lot that could be thought of as proper. He also discovered that the memory of their lusty farewell was kindling enough to help warm him when he finally set out that morning, and a good thing, too. According to Daniel's personal thermometer—a method of spitting, then watching carefully to see whether the wad froze in the air or when it hit the snow—the temperature was around twenty below zero, and still dropping. If he didn't get to the renegade families soon, there would be no point in going after them.
* * *
At the Cheyenne encampment, Sissy was running out of excuses for delaying her response to Long Belly's proposal.
"It is true," he said, "that in the Cheyenne way, I would not be in so much a hurry for us to marry, nor would I embarrass you by asking you to be my wife. I would send a sister or perhaps a cousin to ask your permission. I would do these things and wait as long as I had to for you, but this is different between us. We should marry now."
Although she had a pretty, good idea where he was going, Sissy said, ``How so?"
"You are not Cheyenne, for one thing." Long Belly sighed, then raised his hands in frustration and rolled his eyes. "For another, I have touched your womanly parts. Because of this, you are mine. Why can you not say that you will marry me?"
It was time. Past time. Sissy knew that she'd been a little selfish in keeping her reply to herself for so long, but she'd hated the thought of her fantasy world coming to an end. Now she had to forget about herself, close this unexpected and lovely chapter of her life, and get back to what she really was.
"Sorry I took so long thinking about it," she said, her gaze fixed and staring at the fire. "I guess I took my time 'cause I didn't rightly know how to tell you that I cain't marry you."
He didn't respond at first. When he finally did, the direction Long Belly's thoughts took surprised Sissy so, she nearly fell over.
There was murder in his eyes, but his voice was strangely calm as he said, "You have chosen Slippery Monster as your mate?"
The name was just another odd and particularly hilarious label to her at first, but then Sissy remembered that Slippery Monster was the warrior who'd brought her the little crucifix. Despite her sad heart, she found herself laughing. "I don't know how you Cheyenne folks come up with such crazy names." She paused to catch her breath, and then looked up at him. "How do you keep a straight face when you introduce each other?"
"Straight face? What does this mean?"
Sissy sobered. "This is a straight face," she said without moving her lips. "And it just means that you don't laugh when you meet someone named Not Quite a Bear, or Sticks Everything Under His Belt, or Afraid of Beavers."
Long Belly reflected a perfectly straight face as he said logically, "Why would I laugh at Afraid of Beavers? She is my cousin."
"Because her name sounds funny. Don't you think so?"
A serious suitor who wouldn't be dissuaded from his purpose, Long Belly said, "No. Afraid of Beavers is not funny. Nothing will make me laugh until you agree to be my wife."
Sissy sighed. "Well, then, that's just one more reason why we ain't suited enough to get married."
"I am wrong," he quickly said. "If it pleases you, I will laugh when I hear that you are asking for my cousin." He threw his head back and forced a round of belly laughs. "Now please, let me tell my mother that she and the others can begin our wedding feast."
"Oh, red man, you crazy fool." Sissy slowly climbed to her feet, her heavy heart weighing her down. "I'd marry you if I could, but it ain't right. I ain't good enough for any man cause of my whoring past."
"This is no concern of mine."
The sentiment touched her, even though Sissy wasn't quite sure she believed it, but there was another, more troubling reason why she could never hold him to his proposal.
"This might concern you," she said. "My insides is messed up. I cain't never have your babies."
His cinnamon skin, a shade or two lighter than her own, flushed to the color of a ripe berry. Then, surprising her, Long Belly's wide mouth spread into an even bigger grin. "You thought this was reason enough to keep me waiting for your answer these many days?"
"Well, yeah." Embarrassed by having her selfishness pointed out, Sissy hung her head. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just figured I'd enjoy myself a little before you sent me away."
"Oh, brown woman," he said, crushing her to his chest. "Perhaps Buffalo Hair is the wrong Cheyenne name for you. I think you should be called Woman Who Thinks Too Much and Speaks Too Little."
Letting her head fall back, Sissy looked up into his dark eyes. "Speak English, red man. I cain't follow you."
Long Belly released her, and then brought the tip of his index finger to his own nose. "I say this is your child, the only one we need, and I confess, a very naughty child who must have many lessons on how to be a good husband."
"You mean that?" Sissy didn't dare believe that she'd heard him right. She couldn't, and continue to go on living, if she'd heard wrong. "You don't care if you never get no sons of your own?"
His gaze never leaving hers, Long Belly slowly shook his head.
"Yes" was perched on the tip of Sissy's tongue, and yet she heard herself say, "Why? I gotta know why you'd want to tie yourself to a used-up whore that cain't have your babies."
The back of Long Belly's hand grazed her nipples, more contact than he'd allowed since bringing her to the encampment. "I would be very jealous if other lips suckled your breasts," he whispered fervently. "But I would very much like to do this myself tonight."
"You can and have done that and a whole lot more without getting hitched to me." Sissy knew the likelihood of Long Belly saying the words she'd never heard before were remote, but she couldn't stop herself from asking for them. "What's the real reason?"
He looked away from her as if ashamed. "It is the burning I told you about."
A sudden pressure swelled at the back of Sissy's eyes. "What burning is that, red man?"
Long Belly thumped his own chest, still unable to look her in the eye. "It is the burning I feel in here when I look upon you.
It is like a great prairie fire that burns so far and so deep, even the rains from the All Father cannot put out the flames."
"You..." She swallowed hard against them, but the tears fell anyway, spilling down her cheeks and into her mouth as she said, "You love me?"
Finally looking at her again, Long Belly took Sissy's damp face between his big hands and said, "I love you."
Chapter 22
As Daniel feared it might, it took him most of the day to find the lone tipi hidden amongst the snow-shrouded oaks and junipers at the lower-elevation hidey-hole. If that wasn't enough, the weather had turned nasty again, showering him with snow and slowing The Black's progress through deep powder that reached the stallion's chest in places.
After Daniel announced himself and stepped inside the tipi, he half expected to be attacked, by the women the renegades had left behind. To his surprise and dismay, they barely stirred in their beds. He hadn't gotten to them any too soon.
"I am Daniel Two Skins," he said in Cheyenne. "I have come to take you with me. Wolf Lies Down told me I would find you here and that you would follow me back to my cabin. Are you well enough to travel?"
One of the women rose slightly from where she lay, and Daniel immediately recognized her as Walking Strange, wife of Wolf Lies Down. She opened the buffalo hide she'd wrapped around her body to reveal that her belly was terribly swollen.
"I cannot walk far," she said, her voice frail. "The child of Wolf Lies Down lies heavy in my body. He waits for me at your cabin?"
Daniel nodded, intent on gaining her trust before informing her that her husband was dead. His glance went to the lump beneath yet another buffalo robe. "Is your friend well enough to travel?"
"She is called Little Skunk and is very weak. She nurses the daughter of Stump Horn."
Daniel remembered that one of the men had mentioned a family as if there were more than just the one infant. "Where are the other children?"
"Wolf Lies Down took them to the mission to learn their lessons. He thought that if we did not come back for them, the Blackrobe would keep them safe and well during the winter. Is this true?"