“Ain’t nothin’ more dangerous than a drunk Indian,” he mumbled, using more whiskey to pour into the wound. “And I ain’t so sure I want to save his life. You sure he’s worth it?”
Faith sat down on the other side of the cot, watching Tall Bear’s glazed eyes, thinking how here again was something she never would have experienced back in Pennsylvania. “He’s worth it. I assure you, Buck, he’s no danger to me. I owe him, and I appreciate your doing this for me.”
“Well, he did help you a time back with your husband and all. I suppose you do owe him, but he could just as soon have killed you earlier today if he’d fired too quick once he got in here.”
“He went after the horses and got himself hurt doing it, and he killed two more of those men. That’s all we need to know. You’ve got to keep this quiet, Buck. I don’t want soldiers coming after him.”
Buck shook his head, removing the chimney of an oil lamp and holding Tall Bear’s own hunting knife over the flame. “Whatever you say. I’ve always respected your opinions and wants, ma’am.”
Faith smiled. “I wish you would call me Faith, Buck. It’s all right.”
“Well, maybe I can do that. I ain’t never been much for callin’ respectable women by their first names.”
“Oh? And do you know a lot of women who are not respectable?”
He chuckled. “A few.” He sighed and leaned over Tall Bear. “You’d best let go of his hand, else he might squeeze yours so hard, he breaks it.”
Faith stood up, taking Tall Bear’s hand and placing it on the round iron railing at the head of the cot. “Try gripping this with both hands,” she told him. “It might help.”
Tall Bear had said nothing since she’d come back inside the depot with Buck. He seemed dazed, and Faith figured it was from loss of blood. He gripped the railing as she’d suggested, and she was glad he seemed to understand. She was equally glad Johnny had fallen asleep on his cot, worn out from the frightening events of the day. She just hoped Tall Bear didn’t cry out so loudly that he woke the boy up. She wouldn’t want him to see Buck cutting into someone.
Tall Bear watched her, feeling as though he were floating in a different world. For almost four years he had thought about this woman off and on, wondered where she had gone. He had never expected to find her still here at the stage depot, let alone running the place by herself. He had never known such a brave white woman, didn’t think they were even capable of the things this woman had done. She was as beautiful as ever, a hardy kind of beauty that spoke of strength and determination. She reminded him of some Indian women he’d known, reminded him of his own mother. White people like Faith Sommers made him understand that such settlers were there to stay, too stubborn and too brave to turn back.
Strangely, her presence gave him more courage to face the awful pain of what Buck was about to do to him. He liked Buck, although he had not even spoken to the man yet. Buck was another tough one, the kind of white man who would fight an Indian to the death but still be respected by that Indian. Tall Bear knew that such men, too, were the reason no Indian tribe was going to stop whites from settling in this land.
He stiffened then when he felt the knife dig into him, grateful for the whiskey but wishing for oblivion. He’d heard Faith mention something called laudanum, but she did not have any, and she had only a couple bottles of whiskey, for “medicinal purposes,” she’d said. She considered whiskey an evil drink when taken for pleasure, something Tall Bear himself had always believed; yet he had fallen into those evil ways himself a few months ago, turning to a life of lawlessness because he didn’t know what else to do with himself.
Buck dug deeper, and Tall Bear bit hard on the rawhide, gripping the railing. He growled with the pain but did not cry out, for that would be cowardly. He drew on past experiences, the Sun Dance sacrifice, the times when he had cut his own flesh in mourning. He was not unfamiliar with pain, and he supposed he’d get through this pain, too. Somehow he felt that if he kept his eyes on Faith Sommers’s beautiful blue eyes, so full of kindness, he would survive this. He noticed that her dress matched those eyes, and now she looked different from when he’d first attacked the station.
That hair. He remembered again how it had looked this morning, messy, hanging in wild waves and tangles, her dress buttoned crooked. He’d liked what he saw. He would be glad when this was over and they could talk. He was sorry for what had happened this morning, sorry for frightening her little boy.
His vision began to blur. Somewhere in the distance he heard Buck say something about finding the bullet. “Soon as I get this out, I’ll bury the men,” he was saying. He vaguely remembered hearing soldiers in the outer room earlier, hearing Faith tell them they had better get going, as she’d heard there were outlaws somewhere waiting for them. So the woman had protected him. She could just as easily have turned him over to the soldiers. Apparently Buck Hanner was also protecting him. He did not doubt that was for Faith, not because Buck had any liking for an Indian.
He kept his eyes on her. She was the kind of woman men would do anything to please. She apparently had a talent for taking charge of things, and just enough feminine charm to make a man do things he would never otherwise do—like ride after his own comrades, shoot them down, and take the horses back. She hadn’t even asked—it had just been that look in her eyes at losing the horses.
He noticed she never took her eyes from his as he strained against the pain. Finally things went completely black, but he could hear her voice.
“Do you think we can stop the bleeding?”
“Help me wrap it tight. That’s all we can do,” Buck answered, “and hope it don’t get infected.”
Tall Bear felt hands, smelled the scent of a woman. Whatever they were doing, the pain had subsided a great deal. Apparently Buck had removed the bullet. Now all he had to do was heal quickly enough to get the hell out of there before soldiers found out about him. Faith Sommers couldn’t hide him forever.
Tall Bear slowly opened his eyes, not sure what time of day it was. He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings, taking a moment to remember what had happened, where he was. He heard voices in the outer room then, familiar voices. After a moment he realized it was the man called Buck and the woman he’d almost killed this morning…if indeed this was still the same day.
“You sure I can leave you alone here?” Buck was asking Faith.
“I’m sure. Besides, right now he’s weak and wounded, and I have my rifle. I’ll be careful, Buck.”
“Well, it don’t seem right leavin’ you here with a savage lyin’ in the other room there, one who run with outlaws, besides.”
Tall Bear heard someone shout from outside for Buck to hurry up so they could go. He heard a horse whinny. He looked around for his own weapons, but someone had removed them all. He tried to rise, managing to get to a sitting position but feeling dizzy.
Buck argued more with Faith, then told her to be “damn careful.” Tall Bear heard a door close, heard a whistle and someone shout “Giddap there!” Then there was the sound of several horses, squeaking harness, the clatter of a wagon or coach. He was just wondering how he was going to get himself outside to relieve himself when Faith came into the room, a rifle in hand. She looked surprised to see him up and awake. “You shouldn’t be moving around. You’ll cause that wound to start bleeding again.”
He reached out and grabbed the edge of a chest of drawers to pull himself up. “I have something personal to take care of.”
Faith thought how he seemed to fill the little back room when he stood up. Was she crazy to send Buck off with the eastbound stage and be left there alone with this “savage,” as Buck had called him? It would be three or four more days before another stage came through. She pointed the rifle barrel toward a curtained-off area in the corner of the room. “There’s a chamber pot behind those curtains. Use that. Just be sure to put the lid back on. You’re too weak to try to walk all the way out to the privy.”
“I don’t
want to make work for you.”
She felt like laughing. “I already went through hell yesterday because of you, Tall Bear, and you scared the wits out of my little boy. Compared to all of that, creating a little work for me is nothing. Do what you have to do and don’t worry about it. I’ll go fix you some broth. You should eat something. And I’ll bring you a cup of water.”
He glanced at the now-open curtains to the doorway that led into the main room. “Are you alone now?”
“I’m alone, but you already know I can shoot straight. Remember that.”
This time it was Tall Bear who felt like smiling, but he was in too much pain. “I will remember.” He put a hand to his side. “This happened yesterday?”
“Yes. You slept all through the day and night.”
He looked down at his bandages. “Your friend Buck must know what he is doing. I do not see much bleeding.” He met her eyes. “You must know I would not harm you. I got back your horses for you. Doesn’t that prove anything?”
Faith lowered the rifle. “We’ll talk about it later.” She left the room, her mind racing with indecision. Tall Bear was in no shape to leave yet. She would be alone with the man that day, probably that night, maybe more than a night. He was apparently capable of living two different lives—a man who could be kind and gentle, but also ruthless. How did she know when he might change from one to the other?
Maybe it had been wrong of her to tell Buck not to mention Tall Bear to the driver who had come through that morning. Buck had told him about the outlaws but had said he was the one who had shot them, that they had attacked the station the night before. He had explained that he had stayed there the night with Faith because she had seen suspicious-looking men who had come around earlier in the day, and she’d wanted him to stay. Buck had insisted that the man should not know Faith had killed two of the men and wounded another. She was grateful but a little amused by his efforts to protect her femininity, and she loved Buck for not mentioning Tall Bear.
Now at least the bodies were buried, and Tall Bear had a little time to recuperate. No one would know he had taken part in the raid, and maybe if he quit riding with outlaws now, he would not have to worry about being caught and hanged as a horse thief and, she didn’t doubt, murderer.
As she stirred the chicken soup she was making for Tall Bear, she heard a movement and turned to see him standing at the curtained doorway, still wearing only his buckskin leggings. She and Buck had removed his shirt and moccasins. His middle was wrapped with gauze, and he still wore the bear-claw necklace he’d had on when he’d arrived. She remembered he’d worn it the first time she’d met him, and she wondered if he ever took it off.
“I told you you shouldn’t be up.”
He grimaced as he grabbed chairs and furniture, making his way to the front door. “I will go outside to the proper place.”
Faith scowled. “Don’t be so damn proud. It’s too dangerous for you to be walking around yet.”
“I have suffered worse than this.” He opened the door, glancing at Johnny, who sat on his cot holding a stuffed cow and staring at him with big brown eyes. He forced a smile for him, then looked back at Faith. “Tell him he does not have to be afraid of me. I am glad he was not hurt. I did not know there was a child in here.”
Faith glowered at him. “No. You thought there was only a helpless old woman in here! Is there a difference? A human life is a human life.”
“We were only going to ride in and surprise her, keep her out of the way while we waited for the stagecoach. We did not intend to harm her.”
Faith’s laughter rang of sarcasm. “Hilda would have given you just as much of a fight as I did. She was good with a rifle, fought Indians and outlaws on her own before I ever showed up. She—” Faith realized suddenly, as she felt again the pangs of guilt for being partly responsible for poor Hilda’s death, that Tall Bear should be told about Clete Brown’s coming back. “She was killed last fall. I’ll explain later. And you owe me an explanation for why you were running with worthless white rabble like those who attacked this place. Right now you had better go take care of things and get back into bed. And don’t you pass out somewhere out there. I could never drag someone your size back inside, and if someone came along, they’d see you, and there would be nothing I could do about it. I used every effort I had to convince Buck not to tell anyone about you, and I’ve not mentioned you to anyone else, so don’t go ruining all my good efforts.”
He looked her over, thinking how she could behave in an almost manly fashion, speaking with conviction and authority, her hands showing hard work, her face plain, leather lace-up work boots on her feet rather than the more feminine shoes he’d seen other white women wear. The outlaws he’d run with often hung out with white whores who did business with them at their various hiding places throughout Utah and Wyoming, and he’d bedded a couple of them himself. He found most of them grossly unattractive and was repulsed by their lewd lifestyle, but a couple of them had been pleasantly pretty and soft-spoken…and they had reminded him of Faith Sommers. He realized now that that was part of the reason he’d satisfied his curiosity about bedding a white woman, and at the moment he couldn’t help wondering how this one looked naked. She was as pretty as he’d remembered—chapped hands, work boots, and all.
“I will not be long,” he told her. “And my years with the Sioux taught me to rise above pain and weakness. I will not fall.”
After he left, Faith shivered at the way he’d looked at her, so appraisingly. What irritated her most was that she had not minded. She walked over to Johnny and picked him up. “Everything is all right, Johnny. That man staying here is a good man. He likes you. He is called Tall Bear. Can you say ‘Tall Bear’?”
The boy seemed much more relaxed than yesterday. “Tah Bay,” he repeated.
“That’s very good, Johnny.” She kissed his cheek and set him at his own little table. “You sit real still here, and Mommy will get you something to eat.” She dipped some of the soup into a bowl and brought it over to spoon-feed the boy, not trusting him yet to eat something like soup without spilling it everywhere.
She began feeding him, waiting, surprised Tall Bear could really walk all the way out back, worried he’d never make it. She remembered some of Buck’s talk about Indians. Them bucks is a tough bunch, he’d said once during one of his tall tales about his experiences out here. I’ve seen ’em get shot off a horse and get right back on and keep comin’ after you. Some of them go through some kind of ritual where they starve themselves for four or five days and then somebody puts skewers under the skin of their chest and they’re tied to a pole and hang from them until the flesh tears away. Faith had scolded him for telling her such a lurid tale, and she could hardly believe it was true, but after Tall Bear had passed out yesterday and they’d taken off his shirt, Buck had pointed to the strange scars above his breasts she’d seen the first time she’d met him. What’d I tell you? he’d said.
Faith shivered at the thought. There certainly was a lot about Tall Bear she did not understand. Maybe he would explain some of it to her, why Indian men would do such a thing. Was it a test of strength? Of endurance?
When he returned, he looked pale and drawn. She got up from feeding Johnny and went to him. “You’d better get back on that cot. I’ll bring you some water and broth.”
He made no argument, but he refused to let her help him. He made his way into the back room and lay back down. Faith brought him soup and a cup of water.
“Will you eat something?”
When he looked at her again with that gleam of interest in his eyes, Faith wished she could read his thoughts. Was he laughing at her appearance? Did he think her pretty? Silly looking? Was she already starting to look old? Ever since Tod Harding had visited, she’d been studying herself in the mirror, trying to decide how she might look to others. She chastised herself for caring.
She set the food on a small table and pulled a chair next to the bed, then grabbed some extra pillows from
the three other cots kept for guests and helped Tall Bear sit up so she could stack the pillows behind him. She sat down, dipped a spoon into the soup, and held it out.
“I will feed myself,” he scowled.
“Don’t be so stubborn. You’ve done enough just walking outside. To feed yourself, you’d have to sit up on the edge of the bed, and that might put too much pressure on the wound. You’re lucky you haven’t already opened something back up. The bloodstain on that gauze isn’t any bigger than it was when you left, so be glad the bleeding has stopped again. Lie still and let me feed you, at least this one time. Maybe by tomorrow morning you can do it yourself.”
Tall Bear had to admit it smelled good, and food could help him heal. He opened his mouth when she held the spoon next to it, and he swallowed the broth. “It is good,” he told her.
“Thank you.”
She fed him silently, their gazes often meeting, their eyes full of questions. Finally he reached over and picked up the bowl, tipping it and drinking out the rest of the broth. He sucked a couple small pieces of chicken into his mouth and handed back the bowl. “I will rest now. I will leave by tomorrow morning so that you can be at peace.”
Faith took the bowl from him. “Not without telling me a little more about why on earth you were riding with men like that, I hope.”
He drank some water and rested his head against the pillows. “Because I belong nowhere, not with my Indian people, and not with the whites.”
“I don’t understand.”
He looked at her sullenly. “I am not surprised.”
“Tall Bear, I want to understand. Please help me.”
He studied her for several silent seconds, then sighed in resignation. In spite of the weakness of his voice his words rang with bitter hatred. “I told you my father was killed by white men. My mother took me back to her people, and I grew up among them…and then soldiers killed my mother and her new husband and their little girl. Later white buffalo hunters killed my wife and boy.”
Tame the Wild Wind Page 22