Naked in the Winter Wind (The Fairies Saga Book 1)

by Dani Haviland

  After a few moments, Little Bear realized that he was actually enjoying their light repartee. He had never cared much for social calls before—he relished his solitude and had always been his own best company—but now felt lonely since Ian and Evie were gone.

  “Would you care to have supper with me?” Little Bear offered, hoping the congenial man would stay a bit longer.

  Jody grinned, “I’d be delighted, sir,” and gave a grandiose deep bow to his host. It had been a long time since breakfast, and he only had a chunk of hard cheese left for a meal.

  The two shared what little food they had. “Do you know of anyone nearby with cornmeal to barter?” Little Bear asked. “I had two guests just recently, and my supplies are nearly depleted. I enjoyed their company, and didn’t mind sharing, but my stores were already low when they arrived. If there’s a settler or trader nearby where I could get cornmeal, flour, and several other items for a few furs, I’d feel better about the long trip I have ahead of me.”

  That remark provided the opening Jody was looking for. “The Kelleys up the river would probably be happy to do some tradin’. Their home will be the first ye come to after the fork. Look fer about a dozen wee’uns runnin’ around.”

  Jody paused to chew another bite of jerky before saying more, beginning cautiously, “Ye said ye had some travelers sharin’ yer company recently. It wouldna have been a verra tall young man and an older—but not elderly—fair-haired man, rather slightly built, would it? They may or may not be wearin’, um, uniforms.”

  “No,” grinned Little Bear, “This couple was a young man and his wife. He dressed like an Indian and could speak Tuscaroran fluently, but usually spoke English. He had the same Scots accent as you, but his wife didn’t sound like she was from the same area. I couldn’t place her accent, but she was a bright young lass. Pretty too; she had that glow about her that all women get when they’re with child.”

  Little Bear squirmed a bit and adjusted himself on the rock seat, happy to have someone to talk to. “Her husband was tall, gawky, with jet black hair that wouldn’t stay out of his face, and that nose!” he said with a grin. “That lad must have had more than just fists to his face to get a nose like that.”

  “Ian,” mumbled Jody.

  “Yes, sir, that’s his white name—or at least what she called him. I’ve always known him as Star Walker.”

  “Ye said a young couple…” Jody led on, hoping Little Bear would finish the thought.

  “Oh, yes, sweet little Evie, his wife,” his voice drifted a bit. He realized he was musing and continued. “Beautiful young lady, but oddly dressed. It was a bit of a shock to her when she found out that she was with child. She hadn’t known and passed out when I told her.”

  “What?” Jody exclaimed. He wanted to get up and strangle the man, but contained himself. “How did ye ken she was with child when she dinna?”

  “Oh, I nearly completed my studies as a doctor several years ago. I was just a few days shy of getting my degree back in Scotland when…well, that’s another story, for another time. Politics, you know. Yes, yes, the lass was confused about herself. She asked me to tell her what I could by looking at her and examining her in my capacity as a doctor. It was as if she didn’t know who she was and wanted me to tell her what I could determine. I didn’t get too familiar with her; believe me when I say that.”

  Little Bear was eager to share the story, but had seen the fire in Jody’s eyes and heard it in his voice. “I just checked her about the neck, looked into her eyes, had her move around a bit, and patted her little belly—with all of her clothes on, of course. Do you know this couple?”

  “Aye and no; the lad is me blitherin’ clotheid of a nephew, Ian Kincaid. I dinna ken anythin’ of the lass or of him even bein’ marrit. When did ye see them, and did they say where they were heided?”

  “Ian said they were going to see family. We parted company at noontime today. I did hear him say something about an Aunt Clara; I think that was her name. Do you have a sister named Clara who is a healer per chance?”

  “Nae, but I have a wife named Sarah who is.” Jody remained seated on the rock, his shoulders now slumped forward as he turned his head slowly side to side in disbelief. What was that idiot up to now? And draggin’ around a pregnant wife—what could he be thinkin’?

  Jody suddenly sat up straight, took a deep breath, put his hands on his knees, and stood up. “Thank ye, sir, fer sharin’ yer meal with me. And thank ye for lettin’ me ken about my family. It really doesna matter, but is the lass an Indian?”

  “Oh no, she’s a white woman, for sure. I figure she’s about eighteen years old, brown hair, a bit tall, from a good family—she can read and write you see—and just a joy to be around. She does dress a bit oddly, though. She wears pants, but that might be because that’s all she has. They didn’t seem to have much.”

  “Ian never was one to care much fer worldly possessions. If she stays with him, I’m sure they’ll both be fine. At least he’s not as likely to go off on some hare-brained crusade with a wife and a wee bairn on the way. Now, if ye do happen to meet a verra tall young man—a bit taller than me, still—and a slight, fair-haired man about my age, travelin’ together, please let them ken where the Pomeroy homestead is. That’s two miles north of the old mill, mind ye. They’re not familiar with this area, ye see. And I would feel verra bad if they fell into harm’s way.”

  “I’ll watch and listen for news of them. I will be most discreet, I assure you.” Little Bear heard both the concern—and the warning—for the safety of Jody’s friends in his voice. He had just met the man, but already liked him. He reached out to shake his hand.

  Jody grasped it firmly and shook it heartily. “Weel, they say the Lord works in mysterious ways. It seems that since He couldna send me a letter, He sent me a courier with news of my kin. May the Lord be with ye on your travels and keep ye safe.”

  “And the same to you, my brother in God. I hope I didn’t cause you any distress.”

  Little Bear was genuinely concerned. He didn’t think he had betrayed a trust when he shared Evie’s pregnancy. Yes, if this man, Jody Pomeroy, was her kin, he seemed the type who would help family, and with Evie a lady in waiting and living on the road, she would need it. Especially with what Ian had in mind.

  Ӂ

  Ian arrived at the cabin just after sundown. The windows were covered, but slivers of light were peeking through the gaps. Smoke was wafting out the chimney, the smell of burnt pine blending with the aroma of freshly baked bread. He could tell by the carving on the lintel that if Uncle Jody wasn’t living here now, he had been at one time. The wooden beam—carved with an interlaced apple blossom motif—was the same design as the engraved wedding ring he had given Aunt Sarah.

  He started to shrug at how romantic his uncle was. Oof! That didn’t work. He was still carrying Evie, his elk-hide bundle, and her backpack. “Stop delayin’, man,” he grumbled to himself. “Get on wi’ it.”

  He couldn’t knock on the door because his hands were full of passed-out female. He thought of bumping it with his shoulder or head, but couldn’t because Evie was sprawled out, various parts of her body hanging between him and the entrance. He decided he’d kick the door. He followed his first feeble thump with a hardy boot, briefly losing his balance, performing a fancy two-step pirouette and shuffle in recovery.

  Sarah called from the other side of the door, “Who’s there?”

  She must be alone, he thought. She sounds as if she’s trying to be in command, but the quiver in her voice is unmistakable.

  “It’s me, Auntie Sarah. Can I come in, please?” Ian’s voice squeaked at the end of his supplication. He cringed at his emotional regression. He felt like a child who had been out after dark and was going to get in trouble for coming home late.

  Yes, he had to let her go, to leave Evie so she could go back to her own time, to the friends and family she left behind. And he had to be free—single and unencumbered—to take care of his own busi
ness, or he would never feel like a man again.

  Sarah opened the door, drying her hands on the linen cloth tucked into her apron. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of him and his load.

  “Um, can we come in, please?” he asked again, bringing Sarah out of her momentary shock.

  “Oh, sorry, of course—here, let me help you.”

  Sarah tried to take first one, and then the other bag that Ian was carrying, but the straps were tangled with Evie’s dangling limbs. The most she could do was clear a path to the chaise lounge so he could set down the apparently sleeping young lady.

  Ian bent over the couch and managed to get Evie laid out without dropping her. He picked up her fallen hand and placed it on her belly, swallowing his grimace. They hadn’t spoken of it, but he knew he was leaving behind more than just Evie. Whether he still loved her or not didn’t make a difference—he had loved his first wife, too. Robin had sent him away after both of their children died before they even had the chance to breathe air. That was the other reason he had to send Evie away—he couldn’t stand the loss of another bairn.

  Ian let out an involuntary groan as he straightened up. He was spent, but didn’t want to sit down. He knew he wouldn’t want to get up again if he did. And he had to leave—before he changed his mind.

  He grabbed his bag and set Evie’s backpack at the foot of the couch while Sarah arranged a quilt over her. “Where’s Uncle Jody?” he asked without preamble.

  “No hi, hello, or go to hell? You just barge in here with an unconscious female slung over your shoulder and ask where your uncle is? Well, to put your mind at ease,” she said sarcastically, “he heard you were looking for him. He had planned on heading east this morning, but, depending on what he finds or doesn’t find—including you—he might be back as early as tomorrow night.”

  Sarah turned back to the center of her attention, “What’s going on here?” she asked as she nodded at the frowning, comatose female dressed in baggy pants, plaid shirt, and an odd, dark green coat.

  Ian slung his improvised pack over his shoulder, grabbed the knife on the table, and sliced off a generous chunk of bread from the freshly baked loaf. “Thanks,” he said as he raised the bread in both salute and farewell. “This is Evie. She’s my new wife. She has a sair heid and is tired all the time. Would ye see to her, please?”

  That was all he could think to say, and it was hard getting out even that much. He saw Sarah had turned around and was already busy, starting a hands-on examination of her new patient. He made use of the opportunity and slipped out the door.

  “Ian? Ian? Ian?” Sarah’s call started with a soft voice, but ended up as a hoarse whisper, bellowing for her nephew. Seeing he had obviously sneaked out, she rose from her patient’s side and ran to the door, flinging it wide open. “Ian? Ian, what’s going on? Come back here right now, mister!” she called, her voice escalating to an angry and bossy reproach.

  But, it was too late. He heard her, but knew she couldn’t see him. He also knew she wouldn’t leave her new patient alone to search for him. And, there was no way he was going back.

  Ӂ

  Ian walked away from the house with long, confident strides, his burden relieved, his destination his own choice. He didn’t have any intention of finding Jody and never had. It was just the opposite—he wanted to be as far away from him as possible. He knew if his uncle were aware of his plans, he would try to talk him into forgiving the bastards.

  He wanted, needed, to be alone, to immerse and surround himself with hate and anger, to seal off and forget everything about forgiveness and mercy he had been taught all his life. He wanted to call up every bit of Indian warrior vengeance he had left in him and exercise it, cultivate it, until it was stronger and more powerful and potent than any white man’s justice.

  Leaving was what was best for Evie. He was sure of it. He hadn’t said much when he left her at the house. He couldn’t tell his aunt how they had met—or the stories she had told him about the fifty United States of America, and ‘President’ George Washington. Aunt Sarah would find out about her soon enough—even sooner if she saw the strange items Evie had in her backpack. In no time, she would discover that Evie was from the future, even if Evie herself wasn’t aware of it. And by then, he’d be gone. Sarah could help Evie get back to her own people, her own family, and to her own time.

  He was both relieved and sad about losing her. He wished he could erase the last two and a half months from his memory—pretend it never happened. He loved Evie more than he thought he could ever love anyone. But that adoration also meant he was vulnerable. She could hurt him more than knives, fists, and fire ever could—or had. True, she wouldn’t intentionally cause him pain or trouble, but she was better off with her own kind, in her own time.

  Yes, it was best for her—and for him.

  He couldn’t get that voice out of his head. Whether that old woman in the wee black box was Evie or not, one thing was certain: Evie was a time traveler like Sarah and Ramona. Nothing but heartbreak could come from her being in his life.

  Sending her back was all he could think about since he had heard that voice: ‘Tell Danny you found her fone.’ The only time he didn’t think about it was when she was gazing into his eyes. Evie loved him; he knew that by the way she looked at him, touched him, and smiled at him when she first saw him in the mornings.

  He had thought about it one last time as he walked up to his aunt’s front door. But he always came back to the same conclusion: he had to leave Evie with Sarah and never return. His aunt was the best person—possibly the only person—to take care of her. Of that, he was certain.

  Having Evie out of his life was the first step in achieving what he hoped was peace. The second step was getting his revenge, and the third step, well—he’d figure that one out later. Right now, he wanted to find out where the heathens’ camp was. With the elimination of the whiner yesterday, he was only two vermin down. He still had six more of those foul ‘judges’ to get rid of. It would be difficult to do with a wife and child in his life—that is, if the bairn even lived. He had already lost two wee’uns and couldn’t bear the loss of a third. Hopefully, midwives had better skills and herbs in Evie’s future time.

  Ӂ

  The trail away from Uncle Jody’s home was well marked, and it didn’t take much talent to get away quickly and quietly. He felt like he had wings. His mind and body were now free from the responsibility of caring for—or even considering the needs of—another person. He felt as if he was already changing from white man husband back to Indian warrior. All conscious thought could now be focused on composing and perfecting his revenge.

  His deep thinking was probably the reason he was out of tune with his environment. He didn’t hear or see anything out of place—the night sounds were low and soft, and not a leaf or branch had been crunched. He was absorbed in his plans of devising new methods of torture and payback when a large, strong hand came from behind and grabbed him by the mouth, cutting off his breath. At the same time, another hand grabbed his wrist and flipped it up behind him, twisting it so hard, he thought his arm was going to break.

  “Gettin’ pretty sloppy in yer old age there, arena ye, nephew?”

  It was Uncle Jody.

  Ian didn’t know whether he was more mad or embarrassed at being caught off guard. Either way, he was blushing red as a fevered bairn from forehead to toe and twice as hot as a midsummer’s day.

  Jody quickly released his nephew.

  “Aye, I guess I am. Glad to see ye,” Ian lied. Jody wasn’t the last person he wanted to see, but he wasn’t very high up on his list either.

  “So what brings ye here?” Jody asked, offering Ian a jug of the hard cider he had picked up from his secret cache at the edge of his property.

  Ian took a long sip, savoring both the brew and the opportunity to compose himself and a story. The cider was ice cold and chilled his throat as it went down. His body was hot from the fast pace he’d been keeping, and hotter still from th
e flush of embarrassment he had just suffered at being surprised by his uncle. He took another sip, taking care not to drink too fast and get what Evie called ‘brain freeze.’

  “Well, where have ye been and how have ye been keepin’ busy?” Jody asked. “We havena heard from ye in ages. We dinna even ken if ye were still alive.” He wasn’t going to make it easy for Ian to be evasive. He also wanted to get right to the heart of the subject, so he could get back to the house and see what was going on with Sarah and the lass.

  Ian felt like he had just been made the Christmas goose and put on the dinner table for Uncle Jody to carve. He had the feeling his kin knew something, but what? He took another small sip of cider, but acted as if he were savoring a big mouthful. He knew his uncle could see right through any lie he told, so he decided to tell the truth, omitting some—most—of the major points.

  “Weel,” he drawled, “I’ve been here and there, and neither place had writin’ paper, so I suppose that’s why ye havena heard from me. But, as ye can see, I’m jest as great as ever!” Ian kicked back and put his hands behind his head, leaned against a tree, and looked up for the first star in the sky. That was clever, he thought. He grinned widely, very satisfied with himself.

  “Oh, so that’s the way it is, is it? Nothin’ excitin’ in yer life? Tell me, how’d ye lose yer dirk, boy?”

  Ian blushed red again, this time with anger. There was no way he was going to tell his uncle that his favorite dirk had been taken from him, and that only yesterday he had broken off the only knife he owned in the ribs of a mongrel of a man who had shamed, beaten, and planned to kill him last fall. He would rather suffer the indignation of not having a dirk than to let his uncle know he had broken it while wreaking vengeance. And boy! He was a man—how dare Jody call him a boy!

  “It’s none of yer business!” he shouted as he jumped up, face to face with his uncle.