by Peggy Webb
Coming home again was going to be hard, and coming home with Jo Beth even harder. He crossed the room and put his arm around Jo Beth's waist. She was stiff with tension.
“Why we go into the kitchen and all have a cup of tea?” he said.
“I don't serve company in the kitchen. I will serve in the den.” Little Deer got up and shuffled slowly across the room.
“Have you developed arthritis, Mother?”
“It's the agony of life.” His mother looked at Jo Beth, then turned and left the room.
“I don't think she likes me,” Jo Beth whispered.
“She'll come around.” Colter squeezed her waist. “The important thing is that I like you.”
Jo Beth smiled at him, and they followed his mother into the den.
Little Deer sat on a small sofa and patted the seat. “Come, my son. Sit beside me. We haven't seen each other for too long.”
Colter knew what she was up to, but in order to keep peace, he sat on the two-seater beside her. Jo Beth took a chair opposite them.
“You look good, my son. How have you been in that heathen city?”
“I wish you would visit more often and see for yourself, Mother. Remember the ballet you loved so well? The Nutcracker Suite? It will be playing again soon.”
Little Deer started to smile, then remembered herself. “The ballet is a silly dance with no purpose.” She stood up. “I'll bring the tea.”
“Can I help you, Mrs. Gray?”
“I don't allow strangers in my kitchen.” Holding herself straight and tall, she hurried out.
“I guess she forgot about the agony of life.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, Jo Beth wanted to call them back. “I'm sorry, Colter. I shouldn't have said that.”
Colter couldn't hold back a chuckle. He got up, took Jo Beth's hands, and guided her back across the room to the two-seater.
“You're doing very well under the circumstances.”
When they were seated, he put his arm across her shoulders. “After the tea, I'll take you outside to show you the ranch.”
Little Deer came through the door with the tea. When she saw who occupied her seat, she set the tea tray down with a bang on the coffee table.
“I didn't mean to take so long with the tea.”
“Mother, you were so fast I suspect you of harboring elves in the kitchen to help out.” Colter poured the tea.
“What is this? Elves?”
She pulled a chair up so close to the sofa it nearly banged against Colter's leg; then she turned her attention to Jo Beth.
“This son of mine—he could have been the greatest shaman on the reservation, a shaman of such power his people would have come from many miles to seek his help. He could have had many horses and a fine black-eyed wife, and what does he do? He goes off to that heathen city and comes back talking about elves. There have been witches at work.”
“I don't believe in witches, Mrs. Gray.”
Jo Beth sipped her tea, and Little Deer gave her a sly smile.
“Love witches are the strongest. They cast their spells when a man is not looking.”
Jo Beth stiffened. While she was trying to think of how to reply to being labeled a love witch, Colter intervened.
“Jo Beth is right. There are no unexplainable phenomena in this modern age except the miracles of our Father Creator.”
Colter set his and Jo Beth's half-empty cups on the tray. Then he stood up, taking her with him. Facing his mother, he put his arm around Jo Beth in an unmistakable gesture of possession.
“I'm going to show Jo Beth the ranch. The tea was refreshing, Mother.”
Colter didn't hurry from the room. He'd made his statement and he knew that Little Deer would respect that, at least for a while.
The stiffness was still apparent in Jo Beth. He felt a great urge to comfort her, to assure her that everything would work out. But just when he needed the words most, they seemed to have vanished. In the open spaces of the desert with none to hear him except Yellow Bird and the wind, he had been poetic. But now, with the ghosts of his ancestors whispering in his ear, with ancient memories stirring in his mind, he felt a strange restraint.
There was only one way he could comfort her, and in that area he felt no constraint at all. If anything, having Jo Beth in the land of his people heightened his passion.
The door closed behind them, and they stepped out into the cool mountain air.
“Thank you for rescuing me back there, Colter.”
“I will always rescue you, Jo.” He gazed down into her face. What he wanted to say was I will always love you, but he couldn't. How could he speak of a future with her when he didn't know what the future held for him?
“Thank you, Colter.”
She put her hand on the side of his cheek. What she wanted to say was Hold me. Colter. Never let me go. But she felt the barriers between them. Since they'd arrived on this mountain, she'd had the uneasy feeling that she was losing Colter. If she'd known what she was losing him to, she could have fought. But not knowing, she was helpless.
“I'm glad you came with me, Yellow Bird.”
He slid his hands into her hair, reveling in the familiar silkiness. What he meant to say was I can never forget the feel of your hair, but the poetry seemed to have vanished from his soul.
“Why did you bring me here, Colter?” When he started to speak, she put her hand over his lips. “I know what you told me in the desert, that you wanted me to know and understand you. But I already do. I learned you in the desert.”
She started to add, And I love what you are, but she sensed that the time was not right. Saying those words now was impossible.
“I brought you because you are my woman.”
She gazed into his face, trying to read him. But that, too, was impossible.
“Show me your home, Colter.”
“I will show you many things.”
He took her hand and hurried with her toward the paddock. The white stallion lifted his head and whinnied. When they reached the fence, Colter called to the horse. The animal shook his head once, twice, and then galloped toward them.
“That's remarkable.” Jo Beth leaned over the railing, watching the stallion run. “You haven't been here in three years, and yet he acts as if he knows you.”
“An animal never forgets his master.”
“He's yours?”
“Yes.” The stallion had reached the fence. Colter rubbed the soft muzzle. “I bought Chieftain six years ago when he was a colt. I trained him here in the mountains. And when he grew old enough to want companions, I bought him three lovely ladies.”
He gestured toward the sorrel mares, tossing their heads and watching the white stallion.
“I think they're jealous.”
“Probably. They're used to having him to themselves.”
He opened the gate and let the white stallion through. Chieftain followed them to the barn. Colter got a colorful blanket and spread it on the stallion's back. Then he mounted and swung Jo Beth up in front of him.
She laughed when she'd settled onto the blanket. “I'm getting good at this.”
“You make a good Apache, Yellow Bird.”
He spoke softly to the stallion, and Chieftain cantered across the open pastures behind the barn and into the sparse trees. As they climbed higher and higher, the trees became denser, greener. Towering pines spread their branches over the trio, shrouding them in cool green solitude.
The forest became so dense that the late-evening sun could barely reach through to touch them. And still they climbed. Suddenly they came upon a bower, a small open space surrounded by thick growth and padded with lush moss.
Colter pulled the stallion to a halt, then dismounted and held his arms up to Jo. She slid into them. Without a word, Colter captured her lips. It was an all-consuming kiss of such intensity that Jo had to cling to him to keep her knees from buckling.
Chieftain nudged Colter's back and, getting no response, trotted a few feet awa
y to stand waiting. Colter was only vaguely aware that the stallion had not forgotten his training.
He lifted Jo and carried her into the bower.
“Colter...”
“Shhh.”
His hands were on her buttons almost before her feet touched the ground. She heard a small tearing as one stubborn button refused to be manipulated in haste. She stood very still while he tore and threw aside her clothes. It was a Colter she had never seen, a savage man, wild with need and desire.
She welcomed this new facet of him. She wanted to know Colter in all his moods and ways. When their clothes were cast aside and he had pressed her down upon the moss, she greeted him with a fire to match his own.
The tiny fingers of sun across their skin changed from gold to pink to red. A pair of wings stirred in the branches above their heads and a pair of yellow eyes looked down upon them. As the forest readied itself for evening, it murmured and rustled. Brave nighttime creatures came up from their burrows and timid daytime creatures sought the shelter of their homes.
Gray Wolf loved his Yellow Bird. He sought with his body to tell her all the things he couldn't put into words. He told her in eloquent, age-old ways to be patient with him, to understand him, and above all, to love him. In the language of love, he promised to care for her, to keep her, to protect her, to understand her, and to cherish her.
When they lay still in each other's arms, she stroked his hair. “It's beautiful here, Colter.”
“I'm glad you like it.”
“I love it. I’ll always remember this place. Colter, why did you stop coming here three years ago?”
“It's a part of my past I cannot share.”
He pulled her to her feet, and Jo regretted asking him. If she hadn't, he might have been content to stay in that lovely spot a while longer. But not now. He dressed in haste, and she saw yet another side of him, a restless man, driven by private demons.
Colter whistled for his horse, and when he started to mount, Jo Beth caught his hand.
“Love me enough to trust me, Colter.”
“I trust you, Jo.”
“Then talk to me.” She caught the front of his shirt. “In the desert you helped me with my problems. Let me help you with yours.”
“Yellow Bird...”He touched her face, and for a moment she thought he was going to confide in her. Instead, he turned and mounted the stallion. Holding out his hand, he said, “Come.”
She hesitated only a second, then took his hand and allowed herself to be lifted up. They rode back down the mountain in silence.
o0o
Colter's mother had dinner waiting. While they had been gone, she'd apparently decided to behave herself. She was not only pleasant, but she even made a few attempts to be friendly. Jo Beth was grateful for small favors. After what had happened in the forest, she didn't think she could have handled a silent Colter and a hostile hostess.
“I saw your cameras when Colter brought your things in. Do you like making pictures?”
She still didn't call Jo Beth by her name, but her friendly overture was a start. Jo Beth smiled at her.
“I've loved it since I was ten years old. That's when Dad bought me my first camera.”
“Since you're here, you might want to make my picture.”
“I'd be delighted to do that, Mrs. Gray. Thank you.”
Colter watched them, smiling. Everything was going to be all right, he thought. Everything would work out.
After dinner, Jo Beth got her camera while Little Deer cleaned the dishes. She had still refused to allow Jo Beth in her kitchen. This time, however, she'd been polite enough not to call her son's friend a stranger.
Little Deer came into the den, and she was like a child when she saw the camera. She had to touch it and admire it. Then she asked dozens of questions about it.
When she had satisfied her curiosity, she sat in her rocking chair and announced, “I'm ready for my picture now.” She immediately struck a stiff pose.
“I really would prefer to get candid shots, Mrs. Gray. Just try to act as if the camera is not here.”
“How can I do that? I can see it.”
“Perhaps if you don't look at it, I can capture that natural animation you have.”
“You think I have natural animation? Well, how about this?” She bared her teeth in a grimace that made her look as if she were suffering lower back pain.
Colter chuckled. “Mother, just pretend you are talking to Bessie Running Water on the telephone. I've never seen more natural animation than that.”
She turned to her son. “Oh, go away, you clever-talking Gray Wolf. You tell a mother's secrets.”
While the two of them were talking, Jo Beth's camera clicked. She got three good shots before Mrs. Gray started posing again.
They spent the rest of the evening with Jo Beth taking pictures. Finally, Little Deer rose from her chair.
“It's time for bed.” She took Jo Beth's hand. “Come, my dear. You must be tired from all that work and the long drive today.”
Her ploy was so obvious that Jo Beth found it hard to keep from laughing. Colter, who was leaning against the mantel, intervened.
“I'm sure Jo can find her way down the hall.”
“I will not leave a tired guest standing around while I go to bed and sleep like a buffalo.”
Colter started to protest again, but Jo spoke up.
“I am a little tired. Good night, Colter.”
“Good night, Yellow Bird.”
He watched while his mother led Jo Beth into the north wing. Then he left the house and walked out into the night, hoping to find answers in the solitude of the dark mountains.
o0o
The sound came out of the darkness, soft and muted.
Jo Beth snuggled deeper into her pillows. The sound came again—the call of the turtledove. She'd been in bed for what must have been hours. She decided she was dreaming. Rolling over to get more comfortable, she hit a solid object. Her eyes flew open.
“Colter.”
“Shhh.” He was sitting on the side of her bed.
“How on earth...” she whispered, sitting up. “I didn't hear you come in.”
“Did you think I'd fail to come for you? You are as necessary to me as breathing.”
He threw back the sheet and lifted her from the bed. She kissed the side of his neck as he glided silently from the room.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. As long as we're together.”
Chapter Seven
Jo Beth sat up in Colter's bed. Instinct must have awakened her, for she remembered hearing no sound.
Colter was standing beside the dark window, his face in profile. The muscles along his back were knotted with tension and his face was pensive. There was nothing to see out the window except blackness, so she knew he was looking inward.
A sudden chill of fear seized her. She called to him softly, “Colter.”
“It's almost morning, Jo.”
She got up and padded barefoot across the floor. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she snuggled her face against his back.
“What do you see out there?”
“Ghosts.”
“First your mother's witches and now your ghosts. If this mountain if so filled with spooks, perhaps I should leave.”
“Ghosts of the past, Jo.”
“Tell me about them.”
He didn't reply, but stood with his face turned to the darkened window. Jo pressed her lips into his back. He shivered.
“Talk to me, Colter.”
His muscles tightened, then slowly relaxed. He reached behind with one arm and pulled her around to face him. He rubbed the back of his hand along her cheek.
“I love waking up with you at my side. Have I ever told you that?”
“Yes. In the desert. But I'm greedy. I'd like to hear it a million times.”
“If I do all that I won't have time for this.” He bent and captured her lips.
“Hmmm...” Ghosts were temporarily forgotten as she savored the sweetness of his kiss. Then she remembered his face, and the fear came over her again. “Colter...”
“Jo...” His lips skimmed down the side of her neck. “Don't talk.”
“You're sidetracking me.”
“If we talk, we won't have time for this.” He picked her up and carried her back to bed.
“It's getting late.”
“We have a little while until morning comes.”
She lifted her arms and pulled him down to her.
o0o
Later that morning Jo Beth stood on the cracked sidewalk of the small village five miles from Colter's house, watching while he prepared for the footrace. A game day had been organized in his honor, and people had come from miles around to participate.
Stripped to the waist and dressed in jeans and moccasins, he crouched at the starting line, waiting for the footrace to begin. She wanted to reach out and pluck him away from the race, away from this haunted mountain. He blended in so well with these strange surroundings that she was afraid they would swallow him up and she'd never see him again.
Why won't you confide in me? she wanted to scream. Instead she rammed her hands into her jeans pockets and tried to be a part of the crowd. But that was impossible. They were beautifully, proudly Native American. And while they were polite to her, they were not openly friendly. Colter had said it was their way, but still, she felt like an outsider—except at night, except in Colter's arms.
She shifted to get a better view of Colter. Her slight movement caused Zar to push against her legs and whine. She bent over and patted his head.
The signal was given and the runners were off. Jo Beth watched Colter. He was a superb athlete—lithe, quick, powerful. He won the race with ease, and she whooped and cheered.
The crowd around her clapped politely, and a few gave her curious looks. She squatted beside her dog, patting his head.
“I've done it again, Zar.”
“Done what, Yellow Bird?”
She hadn't heard Colter come up beside her. He was standing with the sun at his back, smiling down at her.
“Given proof that I'm not Apache.”