Deborah Camp (25 page)

“You healed on the outside. You still have open wounds inside. You’ll find this hard to believe, but I hate Stands Tall almost as much as you do. If the bastard wasn’t dead already, I’d hunt him down and kill him. He’s made himself my enemy by standing between you and me. He’s dead, but you still belong to him.”

“No!” The word burst from her, startling the baby. Valor wailed and Copper attended to her, calming her with kisses and whispers and gentle caresses. Looking over the baby’s head, her eyes blazed with anger. “I do not belong to him!”

Tucker nodded. “Yes, you do. He rules you, just as surely as if he were alive. He branded you and you hold yourself from other men as if you’re Stands Tall’s property.”

“I do not,” she whispered between gritted teeth.

“I call them like I see them,” Tucker taunted. “He has a hold on you. He’s making you suffer, and you’re allowing it.”

“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me feel guilty and then I’ll let you have your way with me.”

He flinched, stung by being pegged so accurately. “Maybe I am, but there’s truth in what I’m saying.”

“No. I’m free of Stands Tall.”

“Then open your heart to another man.”

“You?” she asked, her upper lip curling.

“Yes, me! You could do worse.”

“I don’t need a man.”

“That’s not the message I received back at the basin.”

She put her heels to Ranger and the pinto burst forward. Tucker could only kick Hauler into a loping canter, barely fast enough to keep Ranger and Copper in sight.

When he arrived at the cabin, Copper was kicking something away from the front of the door.

“What’s that?”

She made a throw-away gesture. Tucker climbed down from the saddle to investigate and spied the scattered feathers. Upon closer inspection he found chicken claws and hanks of hair that had been soaked in blood.

“What the hell?” he muttered, turning to stare at Copper. She was leading the horse and mule toward the stables. She had strapped Valor and the cradleboard to her back. The baby waved chubby fists at Tucker. Drool glistened on her chin and cheeks. The dogs sniffed the ground and yipped, conveying to Copper that her property had been invaded. Tucker caught up with her and waved one of the claws. “Copper, answer me! What’s this all about? Who’s been here?”

“The Lakota.” She turned her face away from him and spat. “They’re trying to spook me.”

“Spook?” He grasped her elbow and swung her around. “Are you sure it’s not Feet Like Wind? Maybe he found out you’d made up stories. Does this mean he’ll be back?”

“No, and it’s not Feet Like Wind. This is something young braves would do to prove their courage. It’s those crazy Sioux.” Again she spat. “They sneak around here, too scared to show their faces, and leave their stupid spell signs to make me afraid. But I’m not afraid. Their medicine is a grain of sand in my mouth and I spit it out.” She demonstrated.

“You know, Copper, you once told me that men could spit better than you, but I believe you’re wrong. You’re a mighty fine spitter.”

“Oh, you!” She snatched her arm from his grasp. “You are never serious.”

“And you speakum like Indian maid,” he said, grunting in a bad imitation of a savage. “Why you speakum like that when you mad?”

“I … don’t.”

He took the reins from her and continued toward the stables. “Yes, you do. It’s your way of putting a wedge between us. You Indian woman and me white man. We from different worlds. But you can talk like that all you want and it won’t make me think of you as anything but what you are.”

“And what do you think I am?”

He opened the gate, and Ranger and Hauler trotted inside the corral. “I think you’re a beautiful, red-haired, brown-eyed woman with freckles. I don’t give a damn who raised you. I’m just glad you got raised.”

Her smile was fleeting. She joined him in the stables as he unsaddled the mounts. “You say that even after I refused you?”

“There’s always tomorrow. I haven’t given up.”

Copper sighed and picked up a curry brush. She grabbed a handful of Ranger’s mane. He butted her affectionately and she kissed his blazed face, then began grooming the rascally horse.

“The man is stubborn, isn’t he?” she asked, talking to Ranger. “He should concentrate on getting fit and on what he’ll do once he leaves here, and quit wasting thought on getting me on my back.”

Tucker looked over his shoulder at her, grinning, then turned around to confront Hauler’s wet back. “She’s got the sweetest mouth I ever tasted, mule,” he said, taking up the ploy. “Her breasts are soft and lily-white. Lord have mercy! She’s all sugar and cream.” He caught one of Hauler’s long
ears and whispered into it, “And she likes me, mule. She quivered like a leaf in the wind when I loved on her. I want her so bad that I don’t take a breath without thinking of her. What am I going to do about it, mule? Got any suggestions?”

Copper smiled, but ducked her head to hide it when Tucker glanced over his shoulder. “He’s so full of pretty talk, Ranger. I don’t trust such pretty talking.”

“Compliments come to me easy when I look at her, mule,” Tucker said. “That’s not what makes her uneasy. It’s more than that.”

“Maybe he should take a few steps back from me and give me a little breathing room.” Her voice had grown soft, contemplative. “I can’t think clear when he stands so close and makes demands of me … makes me respond when I don’t even know what I’m responding to. I need time to think.”

Tucker brushed the mule and mulled over what she’d said. His stubborn, one-mindedness dissolved. “Guess I have been coming on strong,” he admitted. “I’ve been thinking about my wants and needs and ignoring hers. It’s just that she’s come to mean so much to me and I ache to show her that my loving won’t hurt. But I respect her and I’ll retreat if that’s what she wants—if that’s what she really wants.”

When he heard nothing from her, he turned. Ranger chomped on feed. Copper was walking along the path, halfway to the cabin. Valor waved a fist and squeaked.

Tucker moved around to the other side of the mule and put the brush to its brown-to-black coat. “I don’t know why, mule, but I’ve set my cap on that gal and I mean to win her over. She reminds me of a young squirrel I found once when I was a boy. The squirrel had got itself caught in a knot in a log, half in and half out. Stuck good. I don’t know how long it had been that way before I
found it, but it was weak. I had to cut the hole bigger to free it—painstaking work, it was. Had to be careful not to nick the squirrel, you see. But it worked. I held the squirrel in my hands. It was dazed and breathing so fast that I was afraid its heart would give out. I talked to it and petted it, settled it down some before I set it free.” He hung the brush on a nail and dumped some feed into a bucket for Hauler. “Copper’s got herself stuck—half in the past and half out of it. I want to set her completely free of that bad time when Stands Tall used her as a baby-hatcher.”

Hauler raised his head from the bucket and blew a warm breath against Tucker’s cheek. Tucker laughed.

“Why, thank you, mule! I’ll take that as a sign of encouragement.” He stroked the mule’s ears, then went to see to the other horses.

A blowing snow greeted them the next morning. The wind keened around the cabin and it was hard to see beyond a few feet. Tucker fed the horses and broke ice in the buckets with the butt of his rifle. He checked on Brave’s injuries, which were almost healed, and treated them with a sticky medicine Copper had concocted. It worked well, and when he’d commented on it last night, Copper had informed him that she’d used the same stuff on his chest wound.

He chuckled to himself as he started across the corral, head bent and shoulders drawn up against the cold wind. The warning growls of the dogs made him stop and peer through the snow. His fingers tightened around the rifle. Snow swirled in a funnel, then provided a window for a few seconds, long enough for him to see the eight soldiers on horseback. Tucker flattened himself against the snowy ground. He burrowed into the snow and sighted his rifle, but the blowing snow gave him only glimpses of the men. He thought he recognized
one or two of them. Pressing his face in the snow, he hardly noticed the cold. He barely breathed for fear the soldiers would spot him or hear him or somehow sense him. His heart thudded dully in his chest as another more alarming thought tore through his mind.

Why was he hiding from Union soldiers? When had they become his enemies
?

When she heard Patrol’s low growl, Copper tucked Valor into the cradle and loaded the old musket. Cracking the shutters, she looked out the window and saw the column of soldiers. Panic flared in her.
Where’s Tucker
? She flung open the door, musket ready.

“What do you want?” she demanded, proud of her rock-hard tone. She glanced nervously about, but didn’t spot Tucker. Had he heard the dogs and hidden?

The lead soldier touched the brim of his blue cap. “Ma’am, I’m Sergeant McCorkle. We’ve been dispatched to locate Captain Tucker Jones. We were told he’s buried here.”

“You were told right. His grave is behind you.” She pointed the barrel of the musket in the direction of the marker. “I found him half dead and he died on the way here. The Gros Ventre attacked him.”

“Yes, ma’am. We heard that story.” He motioned to one of the men behind him. “Private Piedmont, check out that grave.” Then he looked at Copper again. “You here all alone, ma’am?”

“Why should that concern you?” she rejoined, aiming the musket at him again.

“Ma’am, we heard another story that the captain is still alive and living here with you. If that’s true, we’d like to take him back with us. Maybe he’s recovering from wounds? If that’s so, then we’ll make sure he gets to the fort in one piece. He hasn’t been discharged, ma’am. If he is alive and
you don’t turn him over to us, then he’ll be a deserter. You wouldn’t want that black mark on his record, would you?” The sergeant had bright blue eyes that missed nothing, neither her Indian clothing nor her white complexion. Most of his face was covered with bristling gray and white whiskers. He had an honest countenance. “I have the great honor of knowing Captain Tucker. I served under him. He’s a fine man and a noble officer. He wouldn’t want to be known as a deserter—a coward. Ma’am?” His voice grew soft, pleading. “Is he here?”

Copper lowered the musket. “Yes,” she whispered.

The sergeant nodded, smiling. “Where is he, ma’am? Inside?”

She shook her head slowly. “He’s over there in that grave.”

The sergeant’s smile slipped away. “Find that grave, private?”

The private rode forward again. “It’s got a marker, sarge. The captain’s name is carved in it.”

“Is there a man about here, ma’am?” the sergeant asked.

“There was. A trapper friend of mine. But since when do I have to answer such questions from the army? I’m not a soldier. I want no part of your war.”

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am.” The sergeant touched his hat brim again and looked uncomfortable. “Did they scalp him, ma’am?”

“I …” Copper realized he was talking about Tucker and the Gros Ventre. “No, they didn’t.” Relief was evident in the sergeant’s face, making Copper add, “He went peacefully.”

“Ah, that’s good. I’ll notify the authorities then. He has little family left, but whatever there is will be told. Good day, ma’am.”

Copper nodded and watched them rein their mounts around and file two-by-two across the
yard and into the stands of poplar, spruce, and aspen. The wall of snow swallowed them long before the sounds of the horses diminished. Copper waited until all was quiet before she moved toward the stables. She was almost on top of Tucker before she saw him stretched out on the ground, a white blanket of snow covering him.

“There you are! I was worried sick. You saw the soldiers?”

He made no comment, but stood up and brushed the white dusting off the front of him.

“Could you hear what they said?”

“Some.”

“The sergeant said he would report your death to all concerned. You’re free of them, Tucker.”

She expected joy, but his expression was taciturn. She propped her hands on her hips in a decisive gesture. “Tomorrow I think we should travel to Grizzly Gus’ cabin.”

“Why?”

“I want to visit with him, and I want to speak to Pierre Sartain. His big mouth is making big trouble for me, and I mean to shut it.”

“You want to go in this weather?” He spread out his hands, indicating the whirling whiteness.

“This is nothing. It’ll blow over by tonight anyway.” She smiled at him, trying to trigger a response. “You’ll have to get used to this weather, Tucker Jones.” She kicked at a clump of snow. Cocking her head to one side, she tried to catch his elusive gaze. “It’ll be nice to see Gus again, won’t it?”

“And McCall,” he added, dryly.

“Him, too.” Was he still jealous? “If he’s there,” she tacked on.

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

She shrugged. “Micah’s free to come and go. Just like you now.” She clutched his sleeves and gave him an impatient shake. “Aren’t you glad about this, Tucker? The army won’t be looking
anymore, especially after I straighten out Pierre. I can make him shut his trap, don’t you worry.”

He shook off her hands. “You’ve done enough for me.”

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you happy?”

He stared at the place where he’d flattened himself. The snow was already covering it. “I made a decision out here. Guess you could say my true character came to the fore.” He swallowed thickly. “Like it or not.”

“Tucker …” She touched his sleeve again, but he jerked away.

“Let’s get inside out of this. You’re going to freeze.”

She followed him, but she didn’t feel the cold. A numbness invaded her and she wondered what kind of torment gripped Tucker. He should be happy, so why wasn’t he? The soldiers were gone and would tell of his death. Was there someone in the low country who would mourn?

Once they were inside, she went to the cradle. Valor stirred and Copper patted her back until she drifted to sleep again.

“Did you tell me the truth when you said your family was mostly gone?” she asked Tucker, who was standing before the fire, warming his hands.