Deborah Camp (26 page)

His sigh was heavy with a remorse she couldn’t understand. “Yes.”

“I thought maybe you’re worried because someone will grieve when told you’re dead and buried.”

“No. There’s no one. Just a few distant cousins. They might be gone too for all I know. Regardless, they won’t shed a tear.” He sidestepped her and went to the door. “I’m going out. I feel cooped up in here, and I need to think.”

“Think about what?” She hurried to block his exit. “What’s wrong? Did I do something to make you angry?”

“No, not you.” He lifted a hand to stroke her
satiny cheek, but thought better of it and let it drop back to his side.

“I can see the pain in your eyes. What happened to make you hurt so?”

“Don’t you see, Copper? I could have showed myself and gone with those men. My name would have been cleared. I know that sergeant—”

“Yes, he said so. He served under you.”

“Yes, and he’s a good man. He wouldn’t have asked questions. He would have shook my hand and accepted any story I told him. My name would have been cleared and I could have rejoined my regiment. Simple as that.”

“And gone back to war.”

“Yes, for a time. My commission is up May twenty-first.”

“After that you’d be out of the war?”

“I’d be released from service, yes. Unless I signed up again, which I probably would have if I hadn’t been shot off my horse by those Indians.”

“You would have? But you hate the war.”

“Yes, and that’s why I would have joined up again. To see it to its end.” He waved aside the issue. “But fate intervened.”

“You aren’t glad I found you and brought back your health with my medicine?”

“Yes, I’m glad, but—”

“But?” she insisted. “Tell me.” She grasped handfuls of his buffalo coat. “What brings such sadness to your eyes?”

He gripped her upper arms as self-disgust buffeted him. “I could have turned myself over to those men, but I didn’t. I lay out there and didn’t utter a peep. I made a decision out in that corral, Copper, and I’m finding it a mite hard to stomach.”

Studying him, Copper saw self-hatred in his red-rimmed eyes. She ran her fingertips over his pale brow, wishing she could see inside his head and understand him. Why couldn’t he let go of the
past and be glad for today? The question rounded on her like a striking viper. Why, indeed? an inner voice taunted.

“It’s official, don’t you see?” Tucker said. “I’m a deserter. By choice.”

“No. You served well. You’ve soldiered enough. It’s time for you to lay down your arms.”

“Not until my commission expires. Until then, I’m a soldier.” His jaw grew hard, the muscles flexing. “No, as of today I’m a deserter. A coward.”

“Tucker, no. Not that. Never that. You’re brave. I’ve seen your courage.”

He moved her to one side and opened the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be okay.” He squeezed the Hawken under his arm. “I just want to get out for a while and think.” He stared at the snowy scene before him and took a deep breath. “This country …” He sighed expansively. “It brings out the best or the worst in a man.” A bitter smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, then he strode into the wall of snow.

Copper reached out a hand, wanting to help him, but not being able to find a way. As he disappeared from view, she realized that he no longer limped, and that she’d been right. His gait was fluid, graceful, and like so much about him, unique.

T
hey were gathering their gear and getting ready for the trip to Gus’ place when Sentry and Patrol raised a ruckus outside, howling and growling as if they’d treed something. Without exchanging a word between them, Tucker and Copper armed themselves and crept to the window. Tucker peeked over the ledge. An Indian woman stood like a statue while the dogs circled her, their hair bristled down their backs.

“It’s a woman,” Tucker whispered. “Do you know her?”

Copper rose and looked out the window. The woman’s clothing and markings were Sioux. She made a low sound in her throat and lifted the rifle, but then she got a good look at the woman’s face.

“What do you want?” she called out.

The Indian woman glanced fearfully at the cabin and lifted her hands, making signs.

“What’s she saying?” Tucker asked.

“That she means no harm. She wants to talk.”

“About what?”

“I’ve got a good idea.” Copper rested a hand on the barrel of the Hawken Tucker held, pushing it aside. “It’s okay. She’s alone and hasn’t come to hurt us. She’s just a nuisance.” Copper opened the door and signaled for the dogs. Patrol and Sentry came to her and sat down, flanking her.

The Indian woman made more finger-talk, then she said a few words in her native tongue.

“Don’t speak that tongue to me,” Copper snapped. “My ears don’t hear Sioux. Lakota is bad medicine here. Do you bring bad medicine?”

The woman shook her head.

“Then talk to me in English. You know enough of it to make me understand. Why are you here? What do you want?”

“I am Rides In A Circle, but my white husband calls me Ann,” the woman said in halting English. She made each sound, each syllable with effort.

“I know who you are. Why are you here?”

“Is my husband here?”

“No.”

Tucker stepped closer, eyeing the frightened woman. She was not much older than Copper, but taller and longer of limb. Her black hair was braided and hung in ropes over her chest. She wore a buckskin, beaded dress, leggings, and moccasins. A knife was strapped to her waist and she carried a bow and a quiver of arrows.

“Who’s her husband?” Tucker whispered to Copper.

“Micah.”

Tucker’s brows lifted and he examined the woman with renewed interest. She had a broad but comely face and almond-shaped eyes, flawless skin. “McCall’s wife, you say? Did he run out on her?”

“No, I don’t think so. She wanted to go back to her people.” She tipped up her chin and looked down the bridge of her nose at the woman. “Your husband is staying with Gus. We’re going there now. Do you have a horse?”

“Wolves killed it yesterday.”

“Then you can walk behind us and try to keep up.”

“Walk?” Tucker looked at Copper, appalled at
her callous treatment. “She can ride double with me.”

Copper glared at him. “I’ll decide who rides my horses. I won’t let a Lakota on one.” She gathered her lips into a bud of distaste.

Tucker raised a hand. “Spare me the spit, please. I know you don’t like them, but the snow is ass-high. How the hell is she supposed to keep up?”

“That’s her problem.”

The woman stepped closer. “I return to my husband because I have his baby here.” She pressed her hands to her middle, tightening the dress to reveal the slight bulge of her stomach. “My people think it is better if I make home with him. I am too much used to going without guide rope now and too much trouble for them.”

“What’s she talking about?” Tucker asked.

“She’s become too independent. A woman gets that way when she’s on her own or living with whites.” She shrugged. “Her people think she’s too uppity now and should go back to Micah.”

“You’re not going to make a pregnant woman
walk
to her husband, who happens to be your friend, are you?” He dipped his head to capture Copper’s flinty glare. “You aren’t that hardhearted, Copper. Forget she’s a Sioux and be nice.”

“I can’t forget she’s a Sioux, but she can ride with you. I won’t have her astride Ranger.”

“I’m sure she’d rather ride Hauler anyway. Ranger is a beast.”

“You only say that because he won’t let you mount him.” Copper motioned for the woman. “You can ride with this man on my mule. We’re leaving now.”

The Sioux’s gaze slid sideways to Tucker. For an instant, Tucker thought he caught the glint of sexuality in her dark eyes, but he decided it was gratitude. He went to saddle the mule and pinto and led them to the front of the cabin. When Copper brought Valor outside, the Sioux gasped with delight
and moved toward her to admire the baby. Copper hissed at her like a striking snake.

“If you value your life, you’d best stay away from her baby,” Tucker advised. “She’s like a mother grizzly.”

The Sioux delivered a hard look at Copper, but retreated.

“What do you want me to call you by—your Indian name or your white name?” he asked her.

“You call me Ann.”

“Okay. I’m Tucker, Ann. Copper has two other horses, but one is with foal and the other was attacked by wolves and is recovering.” He swung into the saddle and held out a hand to her. “Climb aboard.”

Ann accepted his hand and settled herself behind him. She held onto his belt to keep herself balanced on the mule’s rump. Copper hung the cradleboard on the saddle horn and sat astride Ranger. She reined the horse around and led the way.

“After this I’ll have to take Hauler to the springs and give him a good washing to get the Lakota stink off him,” Copper grumbled, loud enough for Ann to hear her.

The Sioux snarled something in her native tongue. Tucker sighed. It was going to be a long, silent trip, he thought, and resigned himself to playing the peace-maker between two spitting hellcats.

Gus’ place sat in a small valley. The cabin was large and had two smokestacks. In the purple twilight it was hard to make out any details. Outbuildings flanked the structure and a corral held three shaggy horses, two mules, and a couple of bleating goats. Three large hounds raced to meet them, their barking deep and booming.

“Quit that racket!” Gus called from inside the cabin, and the hounds switched to whimpers.
“Don’t you know guests when you see them, you mangy beasts?” He filled the doorway, blocking the light that spilled through it, and swung an arm over his head in an expansive wave. “Hale there, pilgrims! Supper’s on and the fire is throwing out plenty of heat. Put that foul-tempered pinto and that sweet mule in the corral and come on inside after you’ve seen to their creature comforts.”

“Is Micah around?” Copper called.

“He is.” Gus moved sideways and Micah stepped through.

“Howdy! Glad to see you. I see you’ve brought Jones.”

“And someone else.” Copper slid out of the saddle and unhooked the cradleboard from the pommel. Her body ached from the long ride and she felt sorry for Valor, who had fretted most of the way.

“Oh?” Micah strode closer. “Who—?” He sucked in a breath. “Ann! What the hell are you doing here?”

Tucker helped the Sioux from the saddle, not bothering to hide his smirk. Copper handed Ranger’s reins over to Tucker, and he nodded as he took them.

“Go on inside and see to Valor,” he told her, stroking the fussy baby’s cheek.

It struck her that she and Tucker had forged a close relationship, close enough that they could almost read each other’s thoughts and anticipate each other’s needs. In that vein, she sensed that his pleasant manner was a little forced as he wrestled with inner demons. That he could think himself a coward baffled her because, to her mind, he had been nothing but honorable and brave.

“Well, did somebody cut out your tongue, woman?” Micah demanded, glaring at his wife.

“Let the gal come inside where it’s warm before you exert your husbandly prowess,” Gus suggested. He rested a hand on Copper’s shoulder
and guided her toward the door. “How’s that papoose?”

“Very tired tonight,” Copper said. “And in need of a fresh napkin and a soft bed.”

“It’s a long trip for one so young.”

The cabin was warm and well-lit. Buffalo and grizzly pelts hung on the walls and shadows skipped over them. Grizzly claws and teeth, strung on thin strips of leather, hung across the paned windows like curtains. Lanterns swung from pegs and hooks, lighting every corner. Half of the main area was a sitting room, the other half a kitchen. A free-standing fireplace, twice as wide as the one in Copper’s cabin, divided the room. The furniture was meant to accommodate big men. Sleeping quarters were in the loft.

Copper removed her heavy coat and hat. She freed Valor from the cradleboard and changed her napkin while eavesdropping on the scene unfolding between Micah and Rides In A Circle. They spoke in whispered Sioux, but she could understand enough to discern that Micah never thought he’d see his wife again and could hardly believe that she’d decided to live with him instead of her people.

The Sioux sat heavily in the nearest chair and glared at Micah when he asked if her people had kicked her out as Copper’s had done.

“I decided,” Rides In A Circle said, ice coating her voice. “I came back to you so that you could provide for our child.”

Gus chuckled as he put the coffeepot on a wood-burning stove. He sent Copper a twinkling smile. Copper ducked her head to keep from giggling aloud.

“Child!” Micah retreated a step, socked by the news. “You tellin’ me you got yourself a baby growin’ in you?”

The Sioux delivered a haughty glare. “Our baby, husband.”

“You listening to this?” Micah asked, returning to English as he sought the others’ attention. “Did you know about this, Copper?”

“She told me this morning. That’s why I let her come with us.” Copper held Valor against her and patted the baby’s back. “I’m taking Valor upstairs to feed her. This is none of my affair anyway.”

“Go ahead,” Gus said, giving a wink. “When the baby’s asleep you can come back down here and put some feed in your belly. We’ve got stewed vegetables and buffler roast.”

Copper ran her tongue over her lips. “Save some for me.” Then she carried the baby upstairs.

The loft was heaven—quiet, semi-dark, warm. Copper floated down onto one of the feather beds and opened her blouse. Valor suckled greedily, her eyelids heavy, her eyes dreamily unfocused.

“Taste good, angel?” Copper whispered, kissing Valor’s forehead. She thought of when Tucker had tasted her mother’s milk and blushed even as a smile conquered her.

Murmurs drifted to her from downstairs, but she couldn’t make out many of the words. She heard Micah calling the Sioux by her new name and shook her head. Calling her “Ann” wouldn’t make her white, she thought, knowing that Micah would never think of the Sioux as his equal, his partner. She’d always be beneath him because he could never totally be happy with an Indian as his lover or wife. Their children would be part Blood and Micah would only partly accept them as his.