The Quick and the Fevered

by Long, Heather

  Nudity didn’t bother him, how could it? He’d spent most of his life with Cody and the man spent more time naked than dressed because he turned into a wolf regularly. Modesty was a white man’s issue, and he’d been raised by Quanto, far away from the laws of the so-called good book. Jimmy’s lip curled, and he squashed those thoughts. He’d made his peace with the dark part of his history long ago, so he didn’t need to dwell on it. Quanto taught them the body was a beautiful thing, a natural thing. One could admire, but without invitation, one didn’t touch no matter what the other wore or didn’t wear. The women of the tribe wore clothes only when the weather or a task demanded it.

  The eyeful he’d gotten of Blue, however, stole the breath from his body. Discipline and habit kept his behavior in check. So he worked to sand away the harsher edge from the attack, and he could find a way to discuss their next moves with her. Blue’s people were gone.

  I can be her people. The thought rose unbidden, and echoed with a quiet truth he didn’t try to deny. Which sets a cart so far in front of a horse as to be useless. The best way to handle the situation involved one issue at a time. Who hunted her? Why did they hunt her? What had she done to the lightning Fevered?

  Whatever her answers, he needed to get all of them moving. They needed to break camp and return to the doppelganger’s trail. Moving targets were harder to attack than stationary. The scent of roasting meat greeted him along the way. Blue stood near the fire, a pit she’d widened to accommodate the large hunks of meat she’d set to the spit. Shane slept, nearly motionless, save for the faint rise and fall of his chest. A greasy substance had been applied to his chest, which was free of the blankets. The angry black scorch marks diminished during Jimmy’s work, but he didn’t look healthy quite yet.

  Without waiting for him to ask, Blue left the fire to greet him and accepted the saddlebags he handed her. Sliding off the horse, Jimmy used his ruined shirt to wipe the animal’s legs down then led him over to the others. He didn’t need to picket his horse as he had the animals he’d claimed from the dead men.

  The heat of the fire washed over his bare chest. Not needing to be any warmer, he gave the meat a once over then left it to cook. The skin had been scraped clean and the hide stretched out to dry. Nearby, a travois had been lashed together from saplings. Pine had been added to the merry burning fire, and if his nose was correct, lemon grass. A hint of the smoke drifted in Shane’s direction, bathing him in the scent.

  Squatting next to the boy, Jimmy checked his injuries. The hideousness of the earlier injuries already retreated. He looked scorched, but not blackened and cracked. The salve was thick, and smelled of willow bark and mint. A week or more’s worth of healing in a few hours. Says more about Shane’s abilities. We wanted to learn the full extent, but not this way.

  Blue drifted into place next to him, her presence brushing against him like a gentle breeze. “This one thanks you for caring for him.”

  “Shane’s spirit is strong,” she said in a hushed tone. “He heals without the medicine?” A question hung off the last statement.

  Seeing no reason to lie, he nodded. Then canting his head so he could observe her reaction, he said. “Shane is Fevered, and his gift is a strong one.”

  The corners of her mouth tightened, but her gaze remained shuttered and her expression unreadable. “How long since the spirit fever took him?” Either his Cheyenne improved dramatically, or she used only words he comprehended. The clarity in her statements defied the leaps they’d taken since sundown in communicating.

  “More than a year,” Jimmy said, rising from his crouch. Though she was built lean, and muscular, she wasn’t as tall as him. Standing forced her to tilt her head to continue meeting his gaze. “The one with lightning this morning…also Fevered.”

  No denial or question. No, Blue knew what the spirit fever was and understood what surviving the fever meant, too. “Yes. I saw.”

  I. Not this one. She still spoke Cheyenne. How could he understand her with such absolute clarity? More questions, few answers. “We need to move soon."

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I built a travois for Shane. It will carry him and keep him still. We will be slowed by the pulling, but we cannot leave him behind.”

  Surprise flickered through him, surprise which sparked shame. Without being asked, without knowing his plans, and without hesitation, Blue prepared a method to carry Shane with them while Jimmy satisfied his conscience and buried the bodies.

  “Those men came for you,” he told her and no shock appeared in her eyes. Folding his arms so he didn’t take her hands to inspect her injuries, he studied her. “You hunted the two I took out yesterday and this morning, those seven came for you. How many men took your encampment?”

  Nine could take a strong warrior presence, especially if one of them wielded lightning as Scarlett did fire.

  “I don’t know…truly,” she added before he could respond. “I do not know. I traveled on a vision quest when the attack happened. The night passed with no sound or awareness touching me. When dawn came, I found my people. All of them slaughtered. Women. Children. Warriors. The old. No mercy was given. Everything burned and the horses run off.” Her throat convulsed with a tense swallow.

  Heart aching, Jimmy touched a hand to her shoulder. If she’d been Scarlett, he’d have hugged her. Hell, he’d have shown any of the women on the ranch affection. Her muscles trembled beneath his hand, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she gathered herself.

  “I have no time for sorrow or grief. I saw to their spirits, assured myself they flew free of the jesses of earth, then turned my attention to punishing those who took them from me.”

  Punish the murderers? A clean, honest desire and one he understood. “Were they there for you?”

  Some unfathomable emotion clouded her eyes, then passed too quickly for him to pin. “I do not know, though I suspect the answer would be yes.”

  The men coming at them focused on her, too. He’d sent her to Shane. The kid had a tremendous amount of strength and proved damn reliable in a fight, even though his confidence remained shaky. Jimmy saw her leap the fire to take down the first man without hesitation. The skill of her strike impressed and terrified him in equal measures.

  She hadn’t shied from the fight, she’d engaged. Two of the bodies were her kills, though the lightning Fevered would have killed her before Jimmy made it to them if she hadn’t done something…

  “Will you tell me what you did?” The question plagued him all morning. “Are you Fevered?”

  She gave a faint jerk, then shook her head. “I have never been afflicted by the spirit fever. I do not live as one of the cursed.”

  The single word cut him, and Jimmy let his hand fall away. Cursed. Some tribes felt that way about the spirit fever. They turned out or abandoned the ill. Some killed them themselves. Others—others just left them to die from exposure. The result was the same. The Fevered weren’t welcome among many of the tribes, no matter their descent.

  Cursed. Damned. Different words to say the same thing.

  He should know. His whole settlement fell to the damned.

  “I am shaman,” Blue continued, then she sighed. “Though a shaman is medicine woman to her people, and I have no people. So now I am Onsi. Alone. I will take the lives of those who took my people, then I will go to them.”

  Ice fisted his spine. “The hell you will.”

  The vehemence in his tone surprised him, and her eyebrows rose. “The one called Jimmy has no say regarding Onsi’s path. I will assist you with the boy. He does not deserve to suffer.” She frowned. “His injuries should have been mine.”

  No doubt existed within Jimmy. The blast Shane survived would have killed her. He owed the kid a great debt. “No,” he said, shaking his head and caught her arm when she would have turned away. Tugging her to him, he fixed his gaze on hers. “His injuries were his gift so you may live.”

  Anger flamed to life in the dark, mysterious depths of her eyes and she bared her te
eth at him. If she’d been Cody, she’d likely have growled, but his brother never looked so beautiful as her. “I did not ask for such a gift, nor for the slaughter of my people so I may live. No death should be given as a gift.”

  “Perhaps.” Jimmy stroked his thumb against the smoothness of her skin. Soft and supple, yet tough. Everything about This Woman demanded his attention. “However, a gift is something freely given. You didn’t hesitate to step between Shane and the lightning when he fell down. Nor did you hesitate when you leapt the fire to take down the other. You gave him the gift of life and he returned it to you. Don’t sully it by being angry.”

  Her slow blink served as reward enough for his chastisement. Satisfied with the point he’d made, he drew her with him to circle the fire. Shane needed his sleep and Jimmy needed answers.

  “I am grateful for everything you’ve done,” he told her. “Forgive me for needing to demand an answer from you.” Her eyes narrowed at the word demand, but Jimmy didn’t let her reaction deter him. “How did you stop the lightning?”

  Eyelashes dipping, she hid those beautiful eyes from him. “I did not.”

  “You did. I saw. I ran toward you both, but I was out of range. How did you do it?” As if conjured by his words, he could see her facing the lightning man, palms turned toward him then a wave of something passed from her toward the man. The lightning leapt from him, then twisted upward as though jerked from him. The act was far from deliberate, the startled expression on the Fevered spoke volumes. “Trust me, Blue. If I am to help you, I need to know.”

  Covering his hand on her arm with her own, she shook her head slowly. “You cannot help me, Jimmy. The path I travel is not yours. Mine will take me back to my people, allow me to join them with my conscience clear.” So solemn in her certainty and conviction, yet she managed a faint smile.

  “No,” he said the word quietly. “You do not walk the path alone. Your path crossed mine, and I don’t choose to let you run into the darkness.” Everything happened for a reason or so he’d been told once upon a time. Weak straw, as reasons went, but he refused to accept her determination to die. “How did you turn away the lightning?”

  “Jimmy is stubborn.” Fortunately, she made it sound like a compliment.

  “Yes ma’am. So I would appreciate it if you’d tell me, Blue. Tell me what you did, let me help.” Did he need to know because he wanted a reason to trust her? No, I already trust her. His gut agreed with him on the issue. She was worthy of his trust. I need to know so I can save her. The insight came from deeper within, the same place as his promise to Quanto. If he knew everything, he could protect her and keep her from committing to a path which led only to her death.

  “Are you Fevered?” The question surprised him, but maybe it shouldn’t have. He’d just told her Shane was, and they’d seen the lightning man. The chill razored his insides. Would she call him cursed, too?

  No dishonesty. No side-stepping. “Yes.”

  Tentative and slow, she raised her hand to press her fingers against his chest. The feather-light brush of her flesh on his sent a fresh wave of awareness over his skin. With deliberate caution, she trailed her fingers to his heart. A small frown gathered between her brows and she stared at his chest, contemplative. A tingle raced through him then something peeled away and it was like being dragged sideways from his skin, but without pain.

  “What are you doing, Blue?”

  “Showing you,” she whispered. “The spirit fever binds spirit to flesh and changes those it touches forever. But the spirit is still there, and if one pulls it away…”

  “…you diverted his ability.” The last came in English because he no words described it in her language. If she could do that, it was a hell of a talent. “You crippled it. For how long?”

  “Not long.” When she met his gaze, the tingling sensation sank back into his bones again and vanished. He was whole. “The stronger the spirit, the less I can affect it, and I must call on the spirits to help me.”

  “Is that what you did to the lightning man?” He had to know.

  She sighed, then nodded. “The eagle came…he tore the spirit from the man, ripped the lightning to the sky to return it. But the lightning called the man home and returned swiftly.”

  The eagle. His heart did a hard squeeze. “A real eagle or a spirit one?”

  When she would have withdrawn her touch, he flattened his palm to her hand and held her in place. The thud of his heart echoed through him, but he didn’t care. He wanted this connection with her, wanted to foster it and encourage it to grow. I don’t need this right now. No, a distant part of his mind agreed. He didn’t need it.

  He craved it, craved her.

  “Eagles do not see well in darkness.” She said the last with another faint smile. “It was a spirit. The eagle spirit—Corn Woman, Coyote, Brother Bear, Brother Wolf, Sister Moon, and the wild ones—they all surrounded us.”

  Still holding her hand, he rubbed a small circle against her skin. “Are the spirits good or bad?” Shooting phantoms wasn’t his specialty, but after what he’d seen the ghost pull the day before, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.

  “They simply are,” she answered. “To be good or not good is to be human to make the choice. Spirits? The spirits are life. They are avarice and greed and kind and blessed. What is the rain, but the giver of water? Yet when it comes too much, it can cause harm with a flood.”

  So they weren’t good or bad. The concept aggravated him. Quanto tried to teach him of the spirits when he was younger. Some of his siblings latched onto the lessons. Not Jimmy. He preferred to deal in terms of enemies and friends. They were his friends or they weren’t. “Do they hurt you?”

  Blue didn’t answer immediately. When several more seconds passed, Jimmy frowned.

  “Do they hurt you?”

  “They can only hurt you when you believe your wishes are more important than their will.” The answer wasn’t an answer.

  So…the spirits weren’t her friends, which made them his enemies if they hurt her. Time to learn how to kill a spirit. Maybe Buck could answer the question for him or Quanto. His father had been curiously silent since sending him on this mission.

  Of course, Jimmy hadn’t slept much in the last few days and wasn’t likely to start anytime soon. Not with Blue to protect and Shane down. “All right. How soon can we move him?” He didn’t care about the food as much as getting them away from the river. His gut said take them both south, make a run for Dorado and the ranch, but the rest of him wanted the doppelganger. Ryan still posed a threat.

  “Tomorrow morning would be better, but we can still move some distance to give you both safety today.” It would have to do. “I will leave you when he is healed and draw the hunters away so you can take him to safety.” She turned away, but Jimmy drew her back as her words sank in.

  “Hell no, you will not.”

  “If they truly hunt me, Jimmy, you and yours will be safer without my company.”

  Safer? “I don’t need safe,” he told her. “Not if it means you’re out there alone. Together or we all stay here. Together.”

  Danger lurked in the sharpness of her gaze. “You have no say in my movements. I am free.”

  “Agreed,” he said with a nod. “You choose the path. I’ll be the guy right behind you.”

  Chapter 9

  Wyatt, The Mountain

  The late autumn sun barely warmed the air outside the cabin. Inside, Wyatt split his time between keeping the hearth fed with fresh wood and preparing the teas Quanto required to bolster his strength.

  “You hover like an old woman,” the shaman complained when Wyatt pressed a heated cup into his hands.

  “I’ve been called worse.” Taking a seat on the edge of the hearth, he checked the blankets he’d piled around Quanto. After setting the tea to steep, he’d added fire-heated bricks beneath the chair and blankets to increase the heat. Despite all his efforts, nothing seemed to warm the old man. “How goes Jimmy’s hunt?” />
  “He doesn’t sleep nor does the little eagle. Both avoid their dreams.” Consternation mingled with amusement in Quanto’s voice. “They are together, though.”

  “Will it be enough?” When Buck informed them of Jimmy’s hunt and eventual destination, they’d elected to divert Jimmy. With Quanto’s health so fragile, Wyatt refused to leave him.

  “We can only hope. Jimmy is made of stern stuff, but he is not as driven to shelter as his brothers.” The last words rode out on a sigh, but Wyatt didn’t argue the point. Couldn’t, in truth. Jimmy embraced who a person was, their strengths and flaws, and didn’t let gender dictate his manner. It had been he who suggested sending Scarlett into the fray much sooner than any had been comfortable. Yet, he’d proved ultimately correct. Scarlett battled another firestarter and won. She also handled grass fires and controlled burns with skilled expertise. Her ability to do what no one else could had been discounted for years.

  Sending Jimmy to protect one of the last of the Blooded shamans was a gamble. In years past, it would have been Quanto transporting them to her location via the dreaming and Wyatt would have dealt with the issues plaguing her. They could have swept her back to the mountain where he could protect them both.

  Flexing his hands, he focused on the crackling of the fire consuming the wood. Air pockets in the timber released definitive pops. The scent of wood smoke, ash, and lemon grass wreathed the air. The tea he’d prepared included lemon grass and willow bark, one to ease the aches and pains of his body while the other soothed his tension.

  “You would rather be out there yourself, old friend.” Yes, he knew him well.

  “I am where I need to be,” Wyatt reminded him. Reaching forward, he placed a hand atop Quanto’s. The fingers beneath his were ice. “We need more wood.”

  “Stay,” Quanto shook his head. “The fire is warm enough. We should talk.”

  Rising, he shook his head. “No, you wish to argue and I will not wage a war of words with you…” He would have continued, but Goliath whinnied. The large black stallion roamed the land around them and Wyatt had left the barn door open partially in case the wind grew too fierce. The old warhorse was well trained to give warning when something was amiss. “Stay in the house.”