by Adair, Mary
Once again he'd let the old man drag him into another childish argument. Maybe if he just ignored him, Thomas would find someone else to harass.
But Thomas wasn't through with James yet. "A couple a days alone with that beast and I'd have him trained proper. Just what do you have ta say about that, Mister ‘cut -my- packs-loose’?"
James hid a grin as he focused his attention on removing Eagle's saddle. He didn't bother to remind Thomas that, as partners, the goods in those packs belonged as much to him as they did to Thomas. He supposed, however, since Thomas was unaware of his identity or his mission, he should appear more interested in the post as a moneymaking operation.
If only his thoughts at the moment were not so monopolized by that woman. He chuckled softly. His father once told him his downfall would come callin' in a skirt. He bet his dear old Da had never seen legs like that exposed below a skirt. In his minds eye he re-experienced the vision of those legs.
His concentration broke when the big Indian who escorted them to the village took Thomas by the arm and spoke in a deep, curt voice, "Your wound bleeds. Come with me. Our medicine man will dress it."
Dancing Cloud stepped up and placed a hand on the proud warrior's shoulder. The man immediately turned to face his chief. "There were no whites among the renegades," the warrior said quietly.
The look of pain that fluttered across Cloud's face reflected in the warrior's eyes then was gone.
Thomas, oblivious to the unspoken emotions, bellowed over his shoulder at James as he was led away, "Just a couple of days, that's all it would take."
The large Indian placed a firm hand on Thomas’ back and pushed him into the medicine man's lodge.
Cloud turned to James. "Come with me to my lodge, Silent Deer will see to Thomas’ comfort. We have much to talk about."
The chief motioned and a young brave who must enjoy high standing among his peers stepped forward. "Runs Far, take our guest's horse and tend to him."
Runs Far anxiously snatched at the reins. James knew horses were still rare in the upper towns. Runs Far's status among the other young braves would be elevated by this chance to care for one of these strange and beautiful animals. James smiled down at the boy to let him know that he trusted him to care for his mount.
Just then Buffalo appeared as if from nowhere, a gleam of mischief lurking in his black eyes. This elicited a warning frown from James. Patting Eagle's neck he spoke in a hushed but serious tone, "You behave yourself, Buffalo." There was no doubt in his mind that the boy was up to something.
Until now the well-trained stallion had shown no real concern, even with all the unknown hands stretching out to touch his shiny coat. James knew his horse and as long as no one other than himself tried to mount Eagle, the stallion would remain as docile as a kitten. But now something about the boy holding his reins must have caught the horse's attention.
Eagle stuck his damp nose close to Runs Far and sniffed, obviously agitated.
James raised a brow, as he looked straight at Buffalo. His suspicions were confirmed as Buffalo fought to keep a straight face.
Then to Runs Far's surprise and with a suddenness that made every native jump in startled surprise, the proud beast blew his hot, wet breath directly into the boy's face. This brought a loud burst of laughter from the villagers.
Runs Far stood ramrod still as slick moisture dripped from his chin and a glaze of sheer terror shone from his charcoal-colored eyes.
Buffalo avoided looking directly at James as he magnanimously offered to take the crazy horse himself.
With a warning thump to the back of Buffalo's head James turned and followed Cloud into his lodge.
Cloud motioned for James to make himself comfortable against a cane backrest located in a far corner of the one large room. "Why are you here, my friend?" Cloud finally asked.
James raised a questioning brow as he glanced over to Cloud's wife and daughter who sat on a platform on the opposite side of the lodge.
Cloud understood and spoke to his family in Cherokee, "Smiling Face, take Sparrow and find some other chore to do outside."
James was surprised to see Cloud's wife lift her chin in defiance.
Cloud sighed heavily, not the least angered by her show of stubbornness. "Please," he said in English. A smile touched his lips evoking a playful grin from his mate.
James soon learned how she came by her name. As her lips spread across her face, her eyes twinkled and an otherwise solemn expression took on a beauty and vibrancy all its own.
With an exaggerated look of defeat Cloud explained in English, "After my trip to England I made the mistake of telling my wife about the word please, and how the white man made a great show of asking their women. Now I am no longer chief in my own lodge."
James worked to keep his own face immobile. "I see."
"Good. I plan for us to talk more about this thing later."
Smiling Face rose gracefully and gathered her things, but Sparrow was not ready to leave. She wanted to get a closer look at the white man. With the comical mixture of boldness and curiosity only children possess she walked directly up to James.
He winked.
The beautiful child with round, tawny cheeks and eyes as black as night giggled in response. She reached out and touched a finger to James' chin. He knew Sparrow had never seen short prickly hairs on the faces of the village warriors.
James sat very still while she ran her tiny finger along his cheek. "Are you the one?" She asked boldly in Cherokee.
Smiling Face turned with a start at the sound of her daughter's voice. Her disbelief that her husband would allow their daughter to behave with such lack of respect to their guest reflected plainly in her eyes.
Dancing Cloud himself had taught James the language, yet James wondered if he'd heard her correctly. "The one? I don't know. Do you want me to be?" He asked gently.
Sparrows glanced over her shoulder at her father and then back to James. A smile very much like her mother's widened across her face and brightened her eyes. "Yes," she answered simply.
This tiny girl with her knowing eyes tugged mightily at his heartstrings. Her spunk and mischief reminded him of the children in his beloved Ireland. "Then I'll do me best ta give ye yer heart's desire, lass," he answered her in his native brogue that, even now after so many years away, came easily to his lips.
Smiling Face frowned, uneasy at the strange sounding words while Sparrow giggled as if in total understanding. Smiling Face took her daughter by the hand and drew her quickly outside.
James watched as they passed through the doorway. "You have a beautiful family, Cloud."
Cloud hid the laughter that rumbled in his heart. "Yes, I do," he agreed happily. "And the boy you brought with you. Is he your son?"
James turned back to Cloud and adjusted his weight against the backrest. "No, but he's a fine lad. I brought him with me from the post. His name is Buffalo."
"Ha, I remember Buffalo. I remember his mother as well." There was a flicker of regret in the kind eyes. "It has been a long time since I have been to the post. Buffalo has grown into a fine looking young brave."
With a tone of approval the chief added, "It is good that you have taken the responsibility of his manhood. His mother has no family to train him. This act of kindness will impress my people much."
James watched as Cloud reached down to pick up his pipe and loaded it with tobacco. There was no way Cloud could know of James' mission. Yet he hit James' intention of situating himself within the village right on the head. Even so, his bringing Buffalo along had nothing to do with it. He'd felt sorry for the boy, and felt it would do him good to get away from the post for a while.
Both men sat quietly while Cloud packed down the leaves then drew slowly from the long stem as he touched a burning twig to the carved bowl. With lungs full of the aromatic smoke he tilted his head back and blew three short puffs upward to float in the air above them.
Cloud passed the peace offering to James. "I have heard
of the Englishman who paid off all of Thomas’ and George's debt at the trading post and then rode out to live two summers with the Choctaw. Tell me, Robin, why has your heart led you here?''
James laughed. "It is good to hear my friend call me by my old name." He held the carved bowl in his hand and drew deeply from the stem. The smoking ceremony was the first one Cloud taught him years ago when he and a handful of other Indians came to England to visit the king.
'No lies,' the chief had told him, 'not even a half-truth is to be spoken during the passing of the pipe.'
James leaned forward as he passed the pipe back to Cloud. He rested a forearm on his bent knee while resting most of his weight on the other hand. "My king has sent me to take an evil man out from your nation. This will not be an easy thing because he is an honored friend among your people."
James felt the tension slowly leave his body as he watched Cloud draw casually from the pipe. The tobacco was strong. That was good. He needed to relax. Maybe tonight he would sleep...and not dream.
"Who is this evil man?" The chief asked and passed the pipe back to James.
"His name is Christoph DuPrey." James knew he took a huge chance in telling this to Cloud, but he would not dishonor their friendship by telling him a lie. He passed the pipe back to Cloud who took a long draw.
Cloud nodded, "I know this man. I also see the deceit in him. He has gained great power among my people."
Time hung suspended between them as James waited for Cloud to finish speaking, as it was clear to James the chief had more to say.
"It is a good thing that you do." Cloud fiddled with the pipe. "And when you have completed what the Great White Chief has sent you to do, what will you do then, my brother?"
James watched Cloud's expression closely. Clearly he'd missed some nuance in the exchange. "I suppose I will return to the lands of my father. I will find a wife and have children. The usual things that a man does when he is ready to settle down."
"Ha..." the Chief responded. "I hear your words with my ears," Cloud tapped a finger to the center of his chest, "but not with my heart. This is because you speak only of your plans." Cloud's gaze locked with James', a gesture not practiced among Cherokee.
After drawing deeply from the pipe once again he passed it back to James. He waited patiently for James to inhale. Then, as they had discussed the subject many times before, he asked, "Now, my brother, speak to me of your dreams."
Chapter Three
New Moon sat back on her haunches and rubbed the small of her back with one hand as she wiped the other arm across her sweaty brow. Breathing a soft moan she arched backward in an attempt to ease the persistent ache. There were other chores that needed her attention, but she felt safe here in the garden. She was sure she would not run into him here among the vegetables.
Her heart was not happy to think the spirits might actually send such a man to her. Not when the good man that was her husband had been killed by one of his kind.
A shiver of apprehension ran down her spine and she glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze landed on the very one she tried to avoid. She knew she should turn her back and continue with her work. Instead, she twisted herself around so she could watch him better.
He leaned against a nearby tree lazily watching the clouds float above his head. He no longer wore the buckskins he had arrived in, but instead wore the narrow loincloth and short moccasins of the Ani- Yunuiya, Principal People.
She grunted in disapproval. Does he think wearing the cloths of a warrior will make him a warrior? If that is what he thinks, he is wrong. She shifted her position slightly as she watched him closely. He didn't even sense her scrutiny. No wonder his party walked into an ambush, she mused with disgust. This man was no warrior. Surely her vision had come from the Prankster'.
Against her will, New Moon's gaze was drawn to his hair, which hung long and straight to just below his shoulders. She had never seen hair of that color. It shone with the deep rich color of the river clay, just as her dream had shown her.
So his hair is an unusual color, she scolded her inner voice. It could be common in his homeland. Or, she mused uneasily; hair of such a color could be a bad omen. Her spirit did not confirm her musings so she dismissed the thought.
He turned in her direction and raised his arms to rest them on a branch that stretched just above his head. She observed the way his muscles rippled along his large frame when he moved. Something caught his eye and he turned his face away. Grinning he propped his temple on his forearm.
New Moon tore her gaze away to look toward the playing field. He watched Buffalo, the young half-breed from the post. Her attention returned to the white man and her heartbeat quickened. His new position gave her an excellent view of his firmly muscled chest and upper arms.
An unwelcome tingling erupted in her belly. A trembling breath filled her lungs as she allowed her gaze to wander lower along the rippled strength of his narrow waist.
Why shouldn't she look? She excused herself and relaxed.. Her eyes were drawn lower still to his powerfully built legs that looked as if they could run forever, and she wondered how it would feel to run at his side. Her senses reeled with the eerie feeling of premonition. Someday she would know.
She steeled herself against the flood of anticipation that washed over her body and sent her every fiber of being into chaotic response.
Her gaze began a slow return trip upward, lingering over the rounded muscles of his calves. Her fingers tightly gripped her bent knees as her gaze continued upward to the sleek strength of his thigh and hip that showed on each side of his loincloth. She stiffened as she realized with a start that his loincloth was draped in the most peculiar angle.
Great Spirit!
Her gaze flew to his face and then quickly away, but not before she saw an auburn brow arch and lips quirk in amusement.
New Moon stiffened her posture. How had he spotted her? There were a dozen women in the garden.
She looked about her and saw one hand after another come up to cover smiling lips and hold back giggles. Rising smoothly to her feet, she turned in a huff and walked proudly in the opposite direction.
Being a regular at court made James used to the timid appraisal of women who hid boldness behind a pretense of shyness. Their falseness always left him a little cold. But in that proud Indian woman's eyes he'd seen an honest spark of admiration, and no small amount of attraction. Her appraisal sent a fire through his veins that left his whole body throbbing.
So why did she keep turning her back in a huff? A smile spread across his lips. Women really were all alike. They always play hard to get to the very end.
His mind drifted to Beth, to her porcelain skin and innocent eyes. In the end, he thought cynically, if you are lucky, the truth comes out.
Thomas placed a heavy hand on James' shoulder.
"Bloody everlasting hell, Thomas," James swore quietly, but with much feeling. "Must you sneak up on me?"
Thomas snickered. "I weren't sneakin', boy. Hell! I was even whistlin' when I come walkin' up." Thomas’ humor often drew sparks from James, a fact that obviously made Thomas all the happier.
Dismissing his partner, James looked toward the garden. His thoughts of Beth were dismissed, filed neatly away in his mind with other hard lessons learned.. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the pleasures at hand.
Tantalizing visions of New Moon consumed him, especially those legs. God, but he’d never seen such legs on a woman.
Thomas gustily cleared his throat and James glanced back over his shoulder. "You've stirred up a lot of attention in the village." The old trader said with a snicker. "I'd say you could prob'ly have your pick of any pretty little Injun squaw you want.”
"These Injuns have a set of rules on such matters, ya know. You break their rules and it won't be no meetin' at sunrise on no field of honor. I feel I got ta tell ya, partner," he nodded in the direction James looked, "that one don't want no part of ya, and if ya go aft
er her you're goin' ta be breakin' one a them rules."
James' grin was full of confidence. "If you'd gotten here a little sooner, you wouldn't be so sure of that. I've learned the native women are a sight more honest than white women, at least about their physical desires."
"Ha! You're just thinkin' with your pecker. I wasn't so far away that I didn't see tha little princess snub ya like ya was a gutter rat."
Thomas sneered as he leaned against the tree. "There ain't been a squaw born that don't look real hard at what she likes. Hell, boy, it's in their blood. You're right about their honesty. They're simple honest folks. But when one of them gives ya the snub like that one just done, it's best ta stay away. That, or," he grinned as he pointed at James' lopsided loincloth, "Lose what ya prize tha most."
"I think you've misjudged her, Thomas." James had recognized the desire in her eyes.
Thomas shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "You think you're so smart just 'cause you been around the world and talk fancy. You don't know half what ya think ya know."
He bent down to retrieve a small twig from the ground. As he straightened his gaze locked with James'. "You think ya know so much," he poked the twig in his mouth, "maybe you'd like ta make a wager on New Moon's attraction ta ya?"
Surprise showed in James' eyes. "Now why would I want to do that, Thomas?"
Thomas lowered his voice and squinted his eyes, "Ta try an prove me wrong. Course that won't happen. You don't know nothing' bout Cherokee women."
James' gaze wandered to the spot where he'd last seen New Moon. "I know women, Thomas. Down deep they're all the same. I haven't seen anything yet that would cause me to change my mind." He again thought of Bess.
Thomas made a rude sound as he rubbed his aching shoulder. He let his gaze slide over James and James knew he was remembering their first meeting. Thomas had witnessed his transformation from English Dandy to rugged frontier man. He wondered what Thomas thought of this most recent change.