“Is she a good cook?” Grizzly Woman settled on furs next to White Eagle and took a bowl from the young woman he’d noticed when he first entered the tipi. She must be their daughter. Now he understood Brandon’s dilemma.
Almost a year ago, Brandon had been found by Gray Wolf after being shot by a couple of cattle rustlers. He’d brought him back to White Eagle’s village and that had saved Brandon’s life. He’d spent weeks in the village, healing.
Apparently, he’d also developed an interest in one of White Eagle’s daughters.
Gerritt handed his bowl back to Grizzly Woman and smiled. “I don’t actually know if she can cook. Tall as Tree’s mother cooks for me.”
When Grizzly Woman translated what he’d said to the other tribe members, the women started chattering.
“Our women think you should make your woman cook a meal. If it tastes like dirt, find another woman.”
Gerritt laughed. “I cannot. My heart belongs to Prudence and I must have her, even if she can’t cook.”
Grizzly Woman once again translated, but this time the heads around the fire nodded.
“The heart knows what it wants.” Grizzly Woman then repeated the words in her own language.
A general murmur washed through the tipi, as if the Tim’néepe understood his predicament.
Although, as Gerritt considered it, perhaps he should find out if Prudence could cook. Alma had mentioned moving out when he finally settled down. Not that he was going to rush back and ask Prudence to marry him. Although once the thought occurred to him, he couldn’t seem to get the image of the Prudence standing in the church in Jubilee, in front of the altar.
She’d be a radiant bride, her cheeks warm with rose color, gray eyes bright. And he’d make sure she had the finest gown he could buy. She deserved to be clothed in fancy satins and silks.
He shook his head to clear it of daydreams.
The meal ended and the pipe was filled with tobacco. Soon it would be time to talk. Gerritt had learned to observe the ceremonies of the Tim’néepe. You didn’t rush into a discussion with these people. There was as much etiquette here as in a New York ballroom.
The pipe was lit and passed to Gerritt. He took a deep draw of smoke and appreciated the good Virginia tobacco. It was a damned shame it was getting so difficult to obtain now that the war had been going on for several years.
He passed the pipe to Brandon. Before long, it was returned to White Eagle after completing the circle.
“Now we talk,” White Eagle said.
Gerritt nodded as he studied the faces surrounding the fire. The men comprised the inner circle with the women scattered behind them. Elders had places close to the fire in positions of respect. Their judgment was respected by the members of the tribe. An elder possessed wisdom and knowledge.
Gerritt explained his concern that a group of white men were gathering somewhere in the mountains near Jubilee. He didn’t want to put any of the members of the tribe in danger, but he told them what he needed.
“You have eyes in the woods and in the sky that I don’t have. If you see these men, I am asking you to send me a message.”
Several of the men spoke to White Eagle. He turned to ask a question of Grizzly Woman.
“What kind of men are we looking for?” She asked Gerritt.
“They might have killed a man up at Silver Creek. I found a body.” He didn’t mention the golden-eyed owl he’d seen.
When she translated what he’d said the tipi erupted into a cacophony of voices. After a few minutes White Eagle held up one hand and everyone quieted.
“We must be careful in our Spirit Walker skins,” White Eagle said. “These men will have guns.”
Gerritt nodded as he looked into the faces reflected in the glow of the fire. “They have guns and they’re dangerous. I need to know where they are and I’m not asking for any more than that.”
There was a silence. “We will talk and give you our answer when the sun rises again.”
Gerritt nodded. “Thank you.”
Grizzly Woman stood and clapped her hands. “Little Jay, get your drum and let’s sing.”
The woman Gerritt had supposed to be White Eagle and Grizzly Woman’s daughter rose and left the tent. Brandon’s gaze followed her every move. His expression was once again sad and forlorn. His mouth tipped down and he lowered his eyes, as if he couldn’t stand the pain of watching her.
Gerritt felt a stab of regret for his friend. To love was a rare and precious thing, but to love someone you could never be with the worst sort of torture. He wished Brandon had told him about Little Jay. Maybe he could have found another way to get to White Eagle’s camp. He hated inflicting pain on a friend.
When he considered the agony of never being with the woman you cared so much for, it struck him how foolish he was being. Prudence was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. She was intelligent, strong and beautiful. Her heart was kind…and she loved Gerritt.
She loved him enough to give herself to him without the sanctity of marriage. He knew for a woman like Prudence, that was no small thing.
When she returned to the tipi, Little Jay slid into a place across from Gerritt and Brandon. She held the drum in one hand and tapped it several times with a stick wrapped in rawhide.
The group waited and she lifted her chin and spoke words in the Spirit Walker language.
Gerritt was struck by the pale skin and light blue eyes he now beheld in the orange and red glow of the fire.
Little Jay was a white woman.
Chapter Fifteen
A Widow Does as She Pleases
Prudence glanced around the small room she’d occupied at the boarding house and felt a spark of excitement jolt her. She was going home. The thought surprised and delighted her. How had Gerritt’s house become home to her in such a short time?
Perhaps because she was realizing that any place that charming, brilliant, devilishly handsome man inhabited, signified a place of shelter. She’d never been as happy as when they snuggled together in the bed in that small cabin up at Silver Creek, basking in the afterglow of making love.
Gerritt was her compass, pointing to the true north of all the things she’d been searching for her entire life.
Her marriage to Eli had been an extension of their friendship growing up. She now realized they’d both been too young to understand the kind of trust and commitment true love required. He’d wanted to feel like a man before he marched off to war and Prudence had wanted to feel as if she truly belonged someplace.
She wondered what their marriage would have been like if he’d survived the war? Would they have realized affection and friendship wouldn’t be enough to carry them through the trials and tribulations of daily life?
Or, would the affection have grown into the all-consuming passion she felt for Gerritt? Prudence took a deep breath and turned back to slam the lid of her wooden trunk shut. There was no point in reflecting upon such things, because her life was here in Montana now. She was going to build a future with the strength, perseverance and determination she’d applied to attending Lamere’s Business School. She’d faced many hurdles since Eli died on that battlefield. She would always mourn the life they didn’t have together, but it was time to move on.
Sam Turnball, one of Gerritt’s employees, appeared in the open doorway of her room with his hat in his hand. I come to get yer stuff and move it back up to the professor’s house.” His wide mouth tipped down at the edges. “Can’t understand how come he moved ya down here in the first place. Dang foolish business if you ask me.”
Prudence had to agree with him, but she couldn’t tell him the reason she’d been moved to the Boarding House in the first place, much less the reason she was returning to Gerritt’s house.
Prudence shrugged. “Brilliant men have their own way of doing things.”
“I s’pose,” Sam said. “This all yer gear?”
“Yes,” she replied. “A bit less than when I arrived in town. The books, typew
riting machine and office supplies remained at Professor Rhinehart’s home.”
He grunted and grabbed her carpet bag. “I’ll get help to carry that trunk downstairs. I ain’t as young as I used to be.”
Prudence nodded, not sure if she was agreeing Sam Turnball had aged significantly or just that she was pleased he was helping her to move. It didn’t seem to matter to Sam as she heard his heavy footsteps clunking down the stairs.
She took a final quick glance around the small room and considered how much she would now appreciate her suite, with hot and cold running water for bathing, at Gerritt’s house. She tied the ribbons of her bonnet and followed Sam down stairs.
Mrs. McCauley stood at the bottom of the steps, her white apron was pristine and her eyes glowed with kindness.
“I shall miss ye, Lassie. Ye been good company at the dinner table and I confess, ye drew gentlemen to my table.”
Prudence smiled back at the widow. “You’ve been very kind to me. I promise to come by later this week for tea. I’ve enjoyed our little ritual and I come to Jubilee several times each week to post mail for the professor.”
“I’d like that. I’ve grown fond of ye, Lass.” She took Prudence’s hands in her own work-worn grip. “Be careful up at that big house. There’s trouble brewing. I can feel it in me bones.”
Prudence dropped her hands and embraced the older woman. “I’ve learned to be vigilant and prepared.” She drew away, realizing that in the short time she’d been in Mrs. McCauley’s home, she’d also become very fond of the woman.
Instead of the sharp tongue and rather strident opinions of Alma Faraday, whom she still had great affection for, Catriona McCauley had a gentle strength and warmth of heart that reminded Prudence of her own mother. She looked forward to deepening her friendship with the widow, for they had bonded over their loss of a husband right from the start.
The wagon was loaded with her things and she gazed up the hill to Gerritt’s home. Her home now. She vowed she never again leave it unless Gerritt was beside her.
He loved her. She knew that with every fiber of her being. She wanted, needed, to hear the words. She knew at some point he’d overcome his reticence and speak them but she’d discovered the secret with the professor was to allow things to take their own sweet time.
And to allow him to think every idea was his own. She smiled. Perhaps that was the way women managed their men. To surreptitiously suggest things and then allow the man to assume it was what he wanted in the first place.
“Leaving us so soon, Mrs. Worthington?” A sharp voice interrupted her musing and Prudence winced.
“I suppose a weak flower from the east can’t tolerate the rough life of the Montana territory. It’s just as well. Not everyone is cut out for this sort of living.”
Prudence turned to find Edith Blakely sneering down her nose at her. Henrietta stood beside her mother, her gaze trained on the toes of her boots at the rudeness of the older woman’s words. Once again Prudence felt a wave of sympathy for the young woman. She really should attempt to befriend her, because her witch of a mother seemed impossible to live with. Doubtless poor Henrietta had no friends her own age.
Prudence pasted a fake smile on her face. “Actually, I’m simply moving back to Professor Rhinehart’s home. He finds it most inconvenient for me to be in Jubilee when his work demands my assistance at all hours.”
Edith’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I suppose it is very inconvenient when a man wants you at his beck and call.” She snorted.
Prudence didn’t like the woman’s implication, even though it was true. She was moving back to the house to engage in what people of good society would deem inappropriate relations with Gerritt. She should be embarrassed. Strangely, she didn’t really care what these women thought of her. Maybe she didn’t care about polite society either.
She’d been fighting battles to be her own woman for years. This was but a tiny skirmish.
“Yes, Professor Rhinehart finds me quite indispensable. He realized how much he relies upon my skills as his secretary. He conceded he’s much more productive with me living in the house.”
Edith’s expression soured as her mouth turned down and her eyes blazed. “I still say it’s quite improper for a young, unmarried woman to be living with a bachelor. Scandalous if you ask me.”
Prudence dipped her head for a moment to shield the anger that tightened her mouth and swallowed a sharp retort that no one was interested in Edith Blakely’s opinion.
Prudence pasted what she hoped was a patient smile on her lips as she raised her head. “I suppose for a young lady like your daughter, it would create quite a scandal. But if you recall Madam, I’m no sheltered, virginal miss. I’ve been wed and widowed. I am quite content with pursuing my career and have no desire to pursue a husband. Therefore, my reputation is of little interest to anyone else.”
The woman took a step back in shock at her words and Prudence used the opportunity to step off the boardwalk and saunter to the waiting wagon. Sam helped her up to the seat. As the horses took off, she had the distinct pleasure of seeing Edith Blakely standing with her mouth hanging open.
And standing behind her mother, Henrietta gave Prudence a hearty grin and waved her hand.
When she came back down to have tea with Catriona, she’d invite Henrietta too. Prudence would make more of an effort to be kind to the young woman. After all, there weren’t that many respectable women in town. And at this point, she’d settle for a friendship with a cheerless maiden, just to enjoy more female companionship. And maybe a friend is just what Henrietta needed to be happier.
***
“We’ll need to organize the town for defense.” Gerritt wished he could ride his horse harder to get back to Jubilee. But he needed to respect the animal. It was a long ride from Brandon’s ranch to White Eagle’s camp. And another fifteen miles back to Jubilee.
At dawn, White Eagle had joined Elk, Cougar and Hawk Woman to search for the scouting party Gerritt was sure was camped somewhere near Jubilee. He wasn’t surprised when White Eagle and Hawk Woman returned to tell him they’d found a group of a dozen heavily armed men at Ghost Horse Gulch.
They’d also told Gerritt what they knew about the dead man at Silver Creek, but Brown Owl hadn’t witnessed the murder. He’d flown into the broken window of the stamp mill to escape a sudden rainstorm, then roosted there overnight.
Cougar had remained to spy on the men. They had the outer trappings of miners, but White Eagle said no one was panning for gold. They also had a wagon with a huge canvas covering something.
Gerritt was convinced it was a weapon. Perhaps even a Gatling gun, which could mean a slaughter if they used it against the citizens of Jubilee. If they were determined to get the plans for the sky ship, it was possible they’d stop at nothing, including attacking the town. They also couldn’t take a chance that others besides Gerritt knew about the plans. Gerritt was determined to protect the blueprints but he also needed to protect the people in his town.
His arc gun and cannon presented some defense but they weren’t perfected yet. The electric charge could be unpredictable and the intensity of the voltage variable to subdue an enemy, as opposed to killing them, difficult to determine.
His intent in designing the arc gun was to find a way to defeat an enemy that didn’t result in maiming or death. He’d seen too many body parts chopped from soldiers wounded in the war and had sought to invent a weapon that could stop a man in his tracks without killing him. Or taking off a limb. Of course, if men were bringing a Gatling gun to Jubilee, Gerritt wouldn’t concern himself with the morality of their death as opposed to overpowering the enemy.
He’d use his arc guns if it meant protecting the people of his town. He’d do whatever it took to protect Prudence.
He’d waited for Brandon to say something about Little Jay on their long trek down from the mountains. The man was as reticent as ever. After nearly and hour on the trail Gerritt couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.
Brandon turned to give him a long, sober look. “She is.”
Gerritt wondered if he’d need to drag Brandon from his horse and torture him to get any more information.
“White Eagle found her in a medicine wagon when she was just a little thing. Both parents dead from cholera. He heard the baby crying and saved her life. She’s been his adopted daughter since then.”
It was long conversation for Brandon Faraday.
“So, I can tell you admire her. What’s the story?”
Brandon gave him a look that suggested Gerritt shut up and mind his own damned business. Maybe Gerritt had annoyed him enough that he’d just leave him to find his way back to the Flying A Ranch on his own. A terrifying thought because there wasn’t much of a trail to follow. They followed more of a deer path that veered off in different directions than a marked trail. Gerritt would be lost without a guide.
They rode in silence for a while. Gerritt deciding that getting back to town was more important than fulfilling his curiosity about Brandon and Little Jay’s relationship.
“When I got shot by them rustlers and left for dead, it was Gray Wolf who found me up in the hills. He brought me back to his camp and White Eagle saved my life.”
“White Eagle’s a good man,” Gerritt said.
“Damned right he is. I can’t stand to hear folks talking about Indians as if they were heathen murderers who should all be massacred. The people who talk like that don’t even know any people like White Eagle and his tribe.
“I agree. People have a tendency to misjudge what they don’t understand. Wild stories and myths have more power over their imagination than the truth. But to be honest, if they knew the truth about White Eagle’s people, it’d terrify then more than stories about wild, murdering savages. They’d grab every weapon they could to kill a person who could change into an animal. There’d be no controlling the mob if they discovered the Spirit Walkers.”
Prudence and the Professor Page 17