She’d had horrible dreams since the day they’d found the body at the stamp mill. She kept seeing the owl swoop down, like a harbinger of death. Then, she was climbing the steps to the office, higher and higher until she finally discovered the man with the huge burn mark scarring his chest.
The memory made her ask a question she’d struggled with.
“Gerritt, you said the man in the mill was killed with a gun you made. I think you called it an arc gun.”
Gerritt threw the leather saddle bags over his shoulder. He stood for a few moments, watching her in silence, as if weighing how much information to share with her. “It’s a dangerous invention. I’ve been trying to adjust the electrical charge. My goal was to create a weapon that would knock a man unconscious, not kill him.”
“You said there were three men who knew about this gun. Do you have any idea which one of them could be a murderer?”
He shook his head. “I questioned them all and each one could account for his whereabouts in the days before we found the body. No witnesses seen any of them leave town.”
She considered his words. “Perhaps they did so in the middle of the night. There wouldn’t be any witnesses then.”
“I thought of that. But, you rode that path during daylight. It would be difficult to make it up to the mill in the dark of night.” He shifted the bags on his shoulders. “I’ll make some more inquiries when I get back.”
His green eyes darkened as he studied her. “I wish I could take you with me, Prudence. But, it’s a rough ride up into the hills to White Eagles’ camp. You’ll be more comfortable here. And safer.”
That was the crux of the problem. Gerritt was concerned about her safety. She wasn’t allowed to walk by herself any more. He’d warned her not to take any chances when he came down to the boarding house each morning to walk her up to his home and escorted her back in the late afternoon. She’d stayed in her room after dinner the past few evenings. Truth be told, she had no interest in flirting with the gentlemen in the parlor. The one man she cared about flirting with was standing next to her.
“Now come and give me a kiss to send me off in style, my love.”
Her heart beat faster at his words. He’d never called her that before. Was this some kind of declaration, or just a momentary lapse of the tongue?
She had no intention of bringing up the subject with him right now. But, when he returned—the first opportunity she got, she intended to speak her own words of love and commitment to him. If he couldn’t say the words she wanted to hear back to her, she’d have to decide whether she wanted to remain the woman he slept with instead of the woman he loved.
She rose on her tiptoes as he bent down, put her arms around his neck and joined her lips to his. The heat she always felt when she was this close to Gerritt swirled through her. The room seemed to shift, as her focus narrowed to the places their bodies touched, the ache of need rushing through her and the sadness of their goodbye.
“I’ll be here waiting for you, Gerritt.” She settled back on her heels, pulled away from him and swallowed the tremor that shaded her voice.
“I’m counting on it, Prudence.”
His eyes conveyed his regret at leaving her. But, there were things far greater than the loneliness they faced being apart. She didn’t know what he planned to build in the stamp mill up at Silver Creek, but she sensed it was destined to change the war. Perhaps even end it.
And if it managed to save even one young man’s life, it would be worth it. Prudence couldn’t bear to think of all the widows, in the North and South, who faced each day without their husbands, all the children who would never know their fathers. The war was taking a terrible toll and anything that could end it was worth the cost.
Unless that cost was Gerritt’s life. She stood at the window to watch him climb on his horse. Someone was walking over her grave her mother would have said.
But it wasn’t her grave she was thinking about at the moment.
***
Brandon Faraday was a taciturn man, not given to needless talk or interested in using a lot words when a few would suffice. Gerritt expected the ride from the Flying A Ranch up to White Eagle’s camp to be a slow, silent journey, but after they’d been on the trail for a few hours, Brandon surprised him by actually speaking.
“It was a tough winter for the Spirit Walkers.”
Gerritt waited, unsure if he should ask a question or keep riding until Brandon decided to offer more information.
“I butchered a few cows for them.”
“I’m happy to pay you for them.” Gerritt responded. “I value my friendship with White Eagle and his people.”
“Never more than I do,” Brandon said.
The words that went unspoken were because he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the Spirit Walkers and their Medicine Man.
Gerritt glanced at the azure sky filled with high, thin white clouds. The day was warming up. He sniffed the pine scented air, grateful to be in the saddle and enjoying a beautiful day. Of course, he realized that this fine weather could turn into a deluge, or even a snow squall without much notice. Such was the weather in Montana territory.
“They got the wagonload of supplies I sent up last fall?” He finally asked.
“The women appreciated the glass beads and the men the good Virginia tobacco. Everyone appreciated the food.”
Gerritt indicated the saddlebags with a twist of his head. “I brought more beads and tobacco. I figured the supply of those might be running low.”
Brandon gave a dry, quiet chuckle. Gerritt couldn’t remember if he’d ever heard Brandon Faraday laugh out loud. He was a gentle giant of a man, standing taller than Gerritt’s six feet. He had the tough, wiry frame of a man who worked with horses and on the land. A woman might call him handsome, if she could manage to get his attention.
But Gerritt couldn’t remember ever seeing Brandon do more than tip his hat to a lady. If he was reticent with his male friends, he went silent whenever he was near a female.
Of course, having the outspoken, dominating mother he’d grown up with might make him view women as nothing but quarrelsome and difficult.
Yet Alma had raised three fine young men, all hard workers, loyal friends and kind people. They often complained about her, but if anyone from outside their family dared to denigrate her, they’d form a fearsome posse to defend her.
Brandon drew up his horse and pointed to an outcrop of rocks high above them. “There’s a hidden trail up there. I expect they’ll have lookouts.”
Gerritt shaded his eyes against the mid-day sun. They were still in the tree line, so even if he knew what animal to search for, it wouldn’t have done him any good. He just hoped that it wouldn’t be Grizzly Woman greeting them. He’d never admit it out loud, but White Eagle’s wife terrified him. And he knew he wasn’t the only man she affected in that way.
“Did you spend much time up here this winter?” Gerritt remembered Alma talking about Brandon and a woman in the camp.
“I came up here a few times. Spent a day or so each time.”
Gerritt decided after a few minutes of silence that Brandon had finished talking. He concentrated on keeping his horse steady on the trail. The path was getting rocky. He didn’t want to look at the long way down and think about what would happen if his horse lost his footing.
When they got to the place where the trail split, his horse sniffed the air and reared back. Brandon worked to control his own mount. Both men stared at the top of the highest rock to see a huge black panther glaring down at them. Its fur gleamed in the sunlight. It was sleek and black as a starless sky at midnight and its eyes burned with supernatural amber light.
Gerritt had seen the Spirit Walkers before, in both animal and human form. But, they always took his breath away. That something as beautiful and extraordinary as a human who could change its shape into animal form existed reminded him that the universe was an astonishing place. If these creatures existed, there was a chance that other m
ythical beings, like mermaids and dragons could also exist someplace.
For a scientist, it was exciting to think of all the discoveries waiting for the world. And it was sobering to think what could happen if the wrong people learned about them.
That was why Gerritt had agreed to help the Faraday family protect the small tribe of Spirit Walkers. He made sure they were given anything they needed, including food during the harsh winter months when hunting became more difficult.
Brandon whistled and the panther disappeared. They waited, and in a short time a tall, golden-skinned warrior appeared on the trail before them. He moved with the liquid motion of a huge cat, as silent and deadly as his totem animal.
“Tall-as-Tree,” the man said, and reached up to grasp Brandon’s arm. They touched elbows. “And Bug Eyes. Do you have any tobacco?”
Gerritt grinned at the man. “Indeed I do, Panther.”
“It is good to see you, too, then,” Panther said, then laughed. “Crow Woman told us you were coming. The women have cooked for you.”
“Good. I’m as hungry as a bear.” Gerritt’s stomach growled its own response.
“But not as mean as Grizzly Woman, I hope,” Panther replied.
Gerritt shook his head. “Is she still giving White Eagle trouble?”
Panther grinned. “It is good he is a winged one and she is four-footed.”
“All marriages should be so blessed,” Gerritt said. Both men laughed, and the comment even elicited a smile from Brandon. Panther ran down the trail, and Gerritt marveled that the man could be so fast. It was one of the gifts of the Spirit Walkers.
They paused at the top of a ridge to see a gathering of tipis and several open sided lodges covered with pine boughs at the bottom of the ridge. Gerritt could see most of the villagers had gathered in the center of the rough circle of tipis.
Brandon and Gerritt guided their horses down the trail. There was a wide, beautiful lake below the village. The mountains rose like great gray and black sentinels, many with a cap of snow, around the camp. It was a well-protected site. A safe place for the Tim’néepe, White Eagle’s people. Gerritt had been told that the word translated to “heart of the monster”.
When he questioned the tribe’s name White Eagle told him that it was better to name themselves the terrible thing than for others to name them so.
They climbed off their horses and ambled into the gathering. The faces that greeted Gerritt were filled with smiles. He was welcome here and he felt a rush of warmth for the Spirit Walkers. He’d heard tales of how so many of them were forced from their tribes, shunned and pushed out when their great gift was discovered. They were called cursed by members of their own family or branded witches.
But White Eagle had made his own tribe of these outcasts. He brought many who might be enemies to his camp. He taught them the way to use their gift, and Gerritt could only think of it as a wonderful, miraculous gift, never a curse.
A young boy took the reins of their horses. Gerritt held out a hand, to indicate he’d take the saddle bags off. The women crowded around him, the older ones calling him “Bug Eyes” and touching him with gentle nudges.
He’d laughed when White Eagle had given him that name after he’d seen him wearing goggles when he was riding on the Steaming Meemie. The Medicine Man had later told the tribal members that was his name. While not as noble and strong as Gray Wolf, Badger or Strong Elk, he’d agreed that the animal description fit him as well and any could. He felt like an odd combination of man and machine sometimes. It seemed fitting and the name had stuck.
All the Spirit Walkers were referred to by their totem animal. But, in the case of the Tim’néepe, when they found their totem at puberty—it meant more than the spirit of an animal that would help guide them through their lives.
For a Spirit Walker, their totem was the animal they could transform into to fly through the skies, wander the forest or explore the mountains. Their tribe was composed of what Gerritt considered to be magical creatures. When he visited this camp, he felt as if he was in the presence of breathtaking creatures as mysterious as a unicorn or a fairy.
Except he could see with his own eyes that this magic existed.
A broad shouldered older man with long, flowing gray hair stepped from the middle of the crowd. People backed away from the newcomers to allow him to come forward.
“It is a good day to see my friends, Tall-as-Tree and Bug Eyes,” White Eagle said.
Gerritt smiled. “I brought sweet tobacco for your pipe and fine beads for your moccasins, White Eagle.”
“Let us sit in my wife’s tipi and smoke the pipe by the fire.”
It was an invitation and Gerritt grinned. “Thank you for your hospitality, White Eagle.”
“But, my wife is also in the tipi. Maybe don’t thank me yet.”
Gerritt laughed. He always enjoyed the sharp sense of humor and great storytelling of the people in this camp. He felt as if the great burden of worry had been lifted a bit from his shoulders.
He didn’t want to get White Eagle involved in what was going on in Jubilee, but he had no choice. Even now, he sensed dangerous men were gathered, waiting to attack the people he felt responsible for protecting.
Just like White Eagle, he’d been given the task of leading, watching over and caring for the people of his tribe. The townspeople, the miners and their families were as much his tribe as the crowd that led the way to Grizzly Woman’s tipi. He needed to keep them all safe.
Especially Prudence. Because if he couldn’t protect the woman he loved, he doubted that he’d care about Jubilee or his mines or even the damned government that demanded so much from him. Without Prudence, there wasn’t any reason to go on.
***
Most of the people managed to crowd into the huge tipi and find places to sit around the fire glowing in the center. White Eagle relaxed on a pile of furs and accepted his pipe from a young woman. The shadows danced around the edges of the tipi, which made it difficult to see her face.
Brandon never took his eyes off the woman as she settled into a place behind the main circle. Gerritt wondered if this was the mysterious woman Alma had referred to―the woman she thought Brandon was in love with.
He turned to see a flash of pain cross Brandon’s face before he removed his wide-brimmed hat, sat and folded his legs beneath him. He stared into the fire, his face a mask of sorrow and loss.
Gerritt could understand what his friend was going through. He’d just discovered how raw and elemental his feelings were for Prudence. He’d spent weeks trying to push her away and had almost succeeded. Fury lanced through him as he remembered how furious he’d been when the man pointed a gun at them at Silver Creek.
He was angry with the men who threatened them, and with himself for neglecting to tell Prudence how he felt when he knew how much she yearned for the words he couldn’t seem to say to her.
Powerful words. Words that would bind them together. Words he’d held close and didn’t say, because he was afraid of making a commitment. Afraid to take a chance, when a chance was all anyone was ever offered. Love didn’t come with a guarantee of everlasting happiness. He knew that.
His problems with Prudence didn’t compare to what Brandon faced if he was in love with a Tim’néepe woman. Trying to work out a marriage between a white man and an Indian would be hard enough. But Spirit Walkers mated with each other. That was something no amount of compromise could ever resolve.
A small, round face appeared behind White Eagle and it broke into a huge grin as she addressed Gerritt.
“You eat now, Bug Eyes?” She studied Gerritt for a moment before her gaze moved to Brandon. A giant smile slashed across her face.
She held out a carved wooden bowl with a spoon leaning against the edge. “This stew for Tall-As-Tree”. She gave a flick of her wrist. “I make you some now.”
She disappeared for a moment then returned to pass a wooden bowl to Gerritt.
“Thank you, Grizzly Woman,” he said befo
re picking up the spoon and sniffing the bowl. A meaty, herbal scent rose to whet his appetite. He realized he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.
He slanted a sly look at Brandon. “I can’t tell you how much I resent that you’re referred to as a great tree and I’m called a funny looking bug.”
Brandon shrugged. “I’ve seen you clinging to that infernal machine wearing those goggles. You do kinda look like a big ole water bug.”
Bowls of stew were passed to more people in the circle. Gerritt was happy to see that despite the long, cold winter these people looked healthy.
There wasn’t much chatter, which was the thing that always struck Gerritt when he gathered with members of the tribe. They didn’t seem to need to fill the air with inane comments or gossip. These people were comfortable with silence. For them, words were precious things that had weight, not be wasted on trivial discussions.
But when they did speak, it was with careful thought. And sometimes great humor. Gerritt didn’t think many people realized how much Indians enjoyed a good joke.
“Have you found a woman to marry yet, Bug Eyes?” Grizzly Woman’s English was better than most members of her tribe. She’d lived in a village near a Jesuit mission when she was growing up. She’d even been taught to read, mostly the Bible
The people sitting around the fire waited for Gerritt to answer Grizzly Woman. Some of them muttered to each other under their breath. A few laughed.
“I have found a woman I care about very much.”
Gerritt surprised himself with the answer. He hadn’t even told Prudence that he loved her, and now he was announcing his feelings to an entire tribe of people.
Brandon turned to him, a slow grin crossing his face. “Ma said you’d fallen hard for that little secretary of yours.”
“Prudence is a good woman,” Gerritt said, “but I have problems I wouldn’t want to drag a woman into right now.”
Prudence and the Professor Page 16