by Carré White
I glanced at her. “Why…why are you—”
He emerged from behind the bunkhouse dressed in denim pants and a wrinkled tow shirt. His brown sack coat looked as if it had seen better days. The sleeves were slightly ragged. Lean legs took on broad strides, while his arms swung back and forth. A gun was holstered at his side. Without saying a word, he untied Sally Anne, bringing the horse over.
“Thank you, Ryan,” said Hannah, grasping the edge of a slat and stepping onto the wagon.
I followed her a moment later, but I found myself seated directly next to Mr. Hartsock, as he got in on my side. A moment of anxiety registered, leaving me acutely aware of his proximity. He deftly maneuvered the horse into a trot, the farm quickly disappearing behind us. Hannah prattled on about this and that, but I was far more attuned to my wagon companion than her comments on the weather, fashion, and what to make for lunch. By the time we had arrived in town, I was a bundle of nerves the likes of which I’d never experienced before. It was the strangest sensation, yet it had been exciting, for some odd reason.
I’d stolen glances his way, marveling at the curve of his face, his angular cheekbones, and the darkest, shiniest hair I had ever seen, which hung over the back of his collar. He seemed to sense my interest, as he’d turned his head in my direction each time, but not once had he said anything, not even in greeting, as most polite people would. When we were within sight of the post office, an unpleasant shout rang out.
“Call the sheriff! We got an Indian who stole two women!”
“Oh, those stupid men,” murmured Hannah. “It never ends.”
I glanced at Ryan to gauge his reaction, but he remained impassive. “Surely they must know that he works for your husband. He’s hardly savage.” I regretted those last words, realizing that I had spoken rashly. I wasn’t acquainted well enough with Mr. Hartsock to judge his character in any way, although he’d always behaved in a gentlemen-like manner in my presence. Seeing him nude had been entirely my own fault.
Hannah stepped from the wagon. “We won’t be too long.” She glanced at Ryan. “I know you wanted to make your own purchases and things.”
“Yes, I do,” he said.
He helped me down, holding my elbow, and, as my foot touched the ground, our eyes met, setting off a peculiar sensation akin to eating something silly that tickled my belly from the inside out. “Thank you.” I sounded breathless.
He tipped his hat. “It’s my pleasure, Miss Hampton.”
Amidst the bustle of the avenue, with its newly constructed business sector, surrounded by carriages, freight wagons, and men on horseback, each person that passed seemed to be glancing our way. It was obvious that Ryan wasn’t a hostile brave come to town to wage war on the innocents, but his every move had been noted.
Even Hannah stared; an amused gleam lit her eye. “When you’re done flirting, Jane, it would be kind of you to join me.”
Oh, gracious me! How embarrassing! “I…wasn’t flirting.” I rushed to her, my cheeks feeling heated. “It’s polite to thank people for being helpful.”
“I’m sure it is,” she murmured.
I hadn’t been flirting with Mr. Hartsock. People said the most ridiculous things. Really.
Chapter Six
The post office was on the boardwalk, past the saloon, where miners and ranch hands drank the day away; their laughter and shouts rang out as we passed. I’d been watching Ryan, seeing him disappear into the Quartermaster Shop. Hannah and I entered the post office and waited in line before retrieving our mail. My friend had written, but not Wesley, which was disappointing. Hannah had received several letters from family members back east, mostly cousins and a friend she had known who lived in New York.
“I can’t wait to read these,” she said, as we headed for the door. “This will keep me most of the afternoon.” She smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry you didn’t hear from Wesley.”
“He’s busy working. I understand he doesn’t have a great deal of time to write. It’s quite a chore, especially for men. They aren’t as inclined towards such things.”
Once outside, we strolled in the direction of the mercantile, which the Higgins family owned. Sally Higgins was one of Hannah’s best friends. I was immediately taken by the selection of fabrics in a sales bin, while Hannah went to the counter.
“I thought that was you!” exclaimed Sally. “I haven’t seen you in ages. How have you been?”
“I’m well, and you?”
“My husband, bless his heart, went to a business meeting. They’re trying to gather enough investors to link Denver City to the national railroad. We were all so disappointed when they went through to Cheyenne and skipped us entirely. I dare say, we aren’t ‘too dead to bury’, as that horrible newspaper said.” She made a face. “Our little town has seen its share of disasters, but things will come together eventually.”
“It would be heavenly to have the railroad here.”
“It would indeed. There was another attack on a supply train earlier this week. It’s driving up the prices on everything, and I’m feeling rather cross as a result.” She whispered fiercely, “Those Indians! I’ve had about enough of it now. Something must be done and quick. Drive them west, I say.”
I’d been selecting ribbons when the bells on the door rang, and I glanced over my shoulder, as Ryan entered. An audible gasp registered, as Sally had gone white behind the counter. Her face now matched the color of the frilly cap on her head. There was another customer in the back, who had turned to see what the commotion was about.
Leaving the ribbons behind, I approached Ryan, who carried a parcel under his arm. “Did you get what you were looking for, sir?”
“I did.” His dark gaze swept over me.
“I’m nearly done. I didn’t find anything here.”
“He’s with us,” said Hannah. “Heavens you’re tense, Sally. Ryan’s perfectly fine. He’s as civilized as they come. He’s working for us now.”
“Oh, ahem,” she cleared her throat. “Of course.”
“I need to find some fabric for a shirt. I’ll have a look at that green material, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, I’ll get it for you.”
While Hannah made her purchases, Ryan and I returned to the wagon, which to our chagrin, was surrounded by drunken, coarse-looking men. My heart sank at the sight, fearing something unpleasant was about to happen. Ryan’s jaw had tightened, and a slight tick appeared in his cheek. I could sense his anger, seeing it in the rigid way he held himself, his hand lingering over his weapon.
“You should leave, vermin,” hissed a toothless man. “We don’t cater to your kind around here.”
“I work in the area,” said Ryan. “I’ve every right to come to town.”
The men hadn’t been expecting him to speak in such an articulate manner, without a hint of an accent. It had thrown them, as they stared with bleary-eyed confusion. Hannah approached, her booted feet clunking on the boardwalk. Sally Higgins was behind her, with an expression of concern.
“It’s been wonderful seeing you again,” she said, hugging Hannah. Then, to my surprise, she held out her hand to Ryan. “I’ve been horribly rude, sir. I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with the Weavers. I’m sorry, Mr. Hartsock. You are most welcome in my mercantile whenever you are in town.”
Ryan shook her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Higgins.”
Sally glared at the men, her lips pursed. “Is today a holiday? Haven’t you people something better to do?” This was met with a rumble of unhappy murmurings, as several men returned to the saloon. “It’s a shame that so many waste their lives on gambling and drink,” she said loudly. This diffused the situation, and the men slunk away, disappearing one by one.
Hannah stepped onto the wagon. “We must be going. Thank you, Sally.”
I grasped the wooden slat, intending on pulling myself up, but Ryan preceded me, aiding my ascent. I was seated next to him again, with Hannah on the other side.
“We’ll see you o
n Sunday,” said Sally.
“Please tell your husband I said hello.”
“I will.”
“Have a safe journey home.” She glanced at me. “It was good to see you, Jane.”
“It was nice seeing you too, Mrs. Higgins.”
We were off within moments, leaving the city behind, while people stared. Seeing someone who looked Indian was a novelty, as so many of the tribes had been driven away. But surely, once they grew accustomed to Ryan that would change, wouldn’t it?
At the Weaver farm, Hannah stepped from the wagon. “The men are waiting for lunch. It won’t be anything special, only ham sandwiches.”
“I’ll help you.” I glanced at Ryan. “Thank you for taking us to town. Might I ask, what did you buy?”
“Clothing.”
This had piqued my curiosity. “What type of clothing?”
“A coat and pants.”
He’d not been all that talkative today, as he rarely said much to begin with. “You shopped more than I did.”
“I needed things.” He’d begun to unhook Sally Anne, keeping his head down, his fingers working the bridle.
“Will you join us for lunch?”
“No.”
That was disappointing. “Shall I bring it to you?”
He met my gaze. “Yes, please.”
“I will then.” I hurried after Hannah, who had gone into the house.
While Nathan was in the parlor with the children, we assembled the sandwiches, and I ate one quickly, leaving half of it behind. I was eager to bring Ryan his food, placing the halved slices of bread with ham and cheese on a plate with an apple. I glanced at Hannah, who seemed lost in thought, while she worked.
“I’ll be back.”
“Of course. Take your time.”
I held on to the apple, while I made my way out of the house, crossing the yard. There was talking in the bunkhouse, and I announced loudly, “Lunch is ready!”
“Thank you!”
I continued through the field towards the tipi. Several lodge poles poked out on top of the buffalo skin shelter. “Are you there?” I wasn’t going to open the flap without making sure that Mr. Hartsock was fit to be seen. The memory of the other day was entirely fresh.
“Come in.”
I tossed back the buffalo hide and ducked into the dwelling, which was surprisingly roomy with clothing hanging on a line above my head between two poles. There were several crates as well, filled with books, which was surprising, and a mass of bedding with blankets and soft looking furs.
“It’s just a sandwich.” I held out the plate, but the apple fell off. “Oh, drat.” I bent to pick it up. “Might I ask you some questions?”
This seemed to amuse him, as his countenance was on the verge of a smile. “If you want.” He sat on the blanket, crossing his legs before him. In that instant, he appeared exactly the way I thought an Indian would look.
Following his lead, I got to my knees, sitting. He’d taken half the sandwich, biting into it. “Where are you from?”
“Here. I’ve lived in the territory my entire life.”
“Your mother was Ute?”
“Yes.”
“And your father?”
“A trapper.”
“Oh.” He ate heartily, while eyeing me. “D-do you see them often?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She’s dead, and I don’t know where he is.”
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
“I never really knew her. She left us when I was young, very young.”
“Why?”
“She wanted to return to her people, but then I heard she got sick and died.”
“Then who took care of you?”
“When my father was working, he’d leave me with another family.”
“Were they nice to you?”
“Mostly.”
“And you don’t see him anymore?”
“I don’t know where he is. He disappeared three years ago. I’ve been fending for myself ever since.”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
He’d been alone for a long time. “I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He’d finished the other half of the sandwich. “What about you? You’re from somewhere else, aren’t you? Didn’t you lose your family?”
“I did. My pa got sick and died, and then my ma died two years later.”
“Where are you from?”
“Missouri.”
“Never been there.”
“My mother came here to start over. We were on a rather large wagon train. She thought she would find a man to marry, but then she got sick. My uncle, Jason, was named our guardian, but he really didn’t want us. I’ve four brothers and sisters. After Jason died, we became Fanny’s responsibility, but she wasn’t happy about that at first.”
“At least you had brothers and sisters.”
“Do you have any?”
“Not that I know of.” He got to his feet. “I’ve tea brewing in the sun. I’ll be back.” He disappeared through the flap in the tipi, returning with a jar of amber fluid. “Lucky for you, I have more than one cup.” He dug around in a crate, extracting two metal mugs. He filled one, handing it to me. “Here.”
“Thank you.” Then he sat next to me, although, this time, he was closer. He began to eat the apple. “You live here all year?”
“It’s surprisingly warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I find it easy to move as well. It’s very convenient.”
“Would you ever build a house?”
“Only if I married.”
“Oh.” Was that something he was planning on?
“What about you?”
“I…pardon?”
“Are you…spoken for?”
Those warm, chocolate colored eyes were on me. “I…am a bit, I think.”
He grinned, the edges of his eyes creasing. “A bit?”
“I’m not engaged or married, sir.” This announcement seemed to please him, as a genuine smile developed. “But…I do have a beau. He’s a miner, working in the mountains.”
The smile remained, while he chewed. “Hum…um…”
“Well then,” I glanced at the crate of books, “might I have a look. I’m dying of curiosity to see what sorts of things you’re reading. Have you gone to school?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Can you read?”
“Of course I can read. Why else would I have books? Do you think I use them for firewood?”
“No, of course not.” I’d crawled over to the crate, grasping a leather bound volume. “Great Expectations,” I said, glancing at him. “And The Count of Monte Cristo. Do you enjoy adventure stories?”
“Yes.”
There were other books as well by William Makepeace Thackeray and Victor Hugo, among others. “Have you read all of these?”
“Yes, several times.”
“The Hunchback of Notre-Dame is rather romantic, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
“Esmeralda is a lucky woman. She had the affection of not only one man, but three.” I’d spoken without thinking. “I mean, it made for quite a messy love triangle.”
“It did.”
“I didn’t care for some of the long, descriptive chapters. I prefer just to know the story, but I tend to be impatient that way. It’s a bit of a character flaw.”
“He’s fond of Paris. It was like traveling to a place I’ve never been. I enjoyed the descriptions.”
I left the books in the crate. “Fine. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that point.”
“If you want all dialogue and action, read Shakespeare. I have some in there.”
“That’s certainly true, but I’m not all that fond of plays.” There was a noise outside suddenly, sounding like a strange howl. “What was that?”
“A wild dog.”
“Like a coyote?”
He shook his head. “They don
’t prowl around during the day as much. They tend to be nocturnal.”
“Have they ever tried to get into your tipi?”
“No.”
“I hear them at night often. They seem to shriek all at the same time. It’s strange.”
“They carry on like that after a kill. They’re celebrating.”
“What do they eat?”
“Other animals.”
“Like prairie dogs?”
“And rabbits. I could…” he grinned, “show you some of their behavior. I’ve observed it firsthand.”
Now this had my attention. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” I sat with my hands in my lap, waiting.
“You have to take your bonnet off.”
“My bonnet?”
He grinned. “Yes.”
That was a strange request. “Very well.” I untied the sash, removing the hat. “Now what?”
“Which animal do you wish to be?”
“What?”
“The rabbit or the prairie dog?”
“I…suppose the rabbit.” I should have known better, because he pounced on me in that instant, sending me to the bedding. “Oh, my stars!”
Chapter Seven
The attack was so unexpected, so wildly inappropriate, that instead of pushing him away, I giggled, especially when he leaned over me, baring his teeth and growling. His dark, silky hair had fallen into his face.
“Stop that!”
“I’ll show you where they bite. You do wish to know, don’t you?”
“I shouldn’t…”
To my consternation, he’d wrapped his hand around the back of my head, loosening the pins that held the locks in place. Then he drew alarmingly near, his heated breath fanning out over my throat.
“They search for the thickest veins usually.”
“You’re jesting,” I giggled. “No they don’t.” I couldn’t help the shiver that went through me, my breath catching with anticipation.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
His teeth gently nipped at the sensitive skin on my neck, while the grip he had on my hair increased. He’d lifted me slightly, arching my back, while pretending to tear into my throat. I knew then that this had all been a ploy to seduce me, and I had fallen easily into the trap. The feel of his mouth sent delicious tremors down my backbone, the sensation unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The nibbles soon became kisses, his lips connecting repeatedly to the throbbing vein at my neck.