MM02 - Until Morning Comes (11 page)

“Yes. In the desert. But I'm greedy. I'd like to hear it a million times.”

“If I do all that I won't have time for this.” He bent and captured her lips.

“Hmmm...” Ghosts were temporarily forgotten as she savored the sweetness of his kiss. Then she remembered his face, and the fear came over her again. “Colter...”

“Jo...” His lips skimmed down the side of her neck. “Don't talk.”

“You're sidetracking me.”

“If we talk, we won't have time for this.” He picked her up and carried her back to bed.

“It's getting late.”

“We have a little while until morning comes.”

She lifted her arms and pulled him down to her.

o0o

Later that morning Jo Beth stood on the cracked sidewalk of the small village five miles from Colter's house, watching while he prepared for the footrace. A game day had been organized in his honor, and people had come from miles around to participate.

Stripped to the waist and dressed in jeans and moccasins, he crouched at the starting line, waiting for the footrace to begin. She wanted to reach out and pluck him away from the race, away from this haunted mountain. He blended in so well with these strange surroundings that she was afraid they would swallow him up and she'd never see him again.

Why won't you confide in me?
she wanted to scream. Instead she rammed her hands into her jeans pockets and tried to be a part of the crowd. But that was impossible. They were beautifully, proudly Native American. And while they were polite to her, they were not openly friendly. Colter had said it was their way, but still, she felt like an outsider—except at night, except in Colter's arms.

She shifted to get a better view of Colter. Her slight movement caused Zar to push against her legs and whine. She bent over and patted his head.

The signal was given and the runners were off. Jo Beth watched Colter. He was a superb athlete—lithe, quick, powerful. He won the race with ease, and she whooped and cheered.

The crowd around her clapped politely, and a few gave her curious looks. She squatted beside her dog, patting his head.

“I've done it again, Zar.”

“Done what, Yellow Bird?”

She hadn't heard Colter come up beside her. He was standing with the sun at his back, smiling down at her.

“Given proof that I'm not Apache.”

“You don't have to be Apache, Jo. Be yourself.”

“Thank you, Colter.” Standing up, she touched his face. “You were beautiful out there. I'm so proud of you.”

“A man likes to impress his chosen woman.”

“I'm impressed.” She linked her arm through his. “These games are interesting. What's next?”

“A stave game for the women, hoop and pole for the men.”

“I'd much prefer to play hoop and pole with you.”

“These are ancient games, Jo Beth. On these game days we still do everything in the traditional way in order to keep our culture alive. Women are not permitted to play hoop and pole.”

“Then I’ll watch and cheer you on.”

“I'm sorry. That's impossible.”

“Why?”

“It is taboo.”

She started to protest, then changed her mind. Colter traced one hand down her cheek.

“Let's skip the games a while, Jo Beth. We’ll walk down to my brother's store and get ice cream.”

He nodded toward the building on the west side of the grassy square.

“No, Colter. That would be running away, and that's not fair to you.”

“Running away from what, Jo? The games? We’ll hardly be missed, and I certainly won't miss them.”

“It's not the games. It's this Apache tradition. You came back to your people to find something, and I can't take you away from that.”

“You are very wise, my Yellow Bird.”

“If I'm so wise, why don't you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Then please talk to me.”

He smiled. 'There's a good bawdy myth I could tell you, or would you prefer some erotic Apache poetry?”

“Be serious, Colter. You know what I'm talking about.
Confide
in me.”

He gazed down at her, but he wasn't seeing or hearing a lively blond woman; he was looking inward, seeing and hearing a dying old man, his face as white as the pillow he lay upon, his voice raspy.
Promise me, Gray Wolf. Promise me....

He shook his head to rid himself of the voice.

“It's a journey of the soul, Jo. I have to make it alone.”

She felt the cold winds of doubt and fear blow over her. In the desert their love had been perfect. Isolated from the real world they had laughed and loved and lived in almost perfect understanding and harmony. But here in these distant and forbidding mountains, Colter was pulling away from her, disappearing into a silence that she couldn't penetrate, an isolation she couldn't understand.

“Go play your game, Colter.” She pulled away from him and whistled to her dog.

“Jo...” Colter lifted his hand in the gesture that was so familiar, the entreaty that she had never ignored, never until today.

“Don't say it. Don't say come, because I'm too weak to refuse you.”

He hesitated, torn between wanting to stay and clear up the misunderstanding with her and wanting to go and enter once more into the games of his people.

“I'll go... for now.” He traced the curve of her lips with one finger. “Wait for me, Jo. Please.” Then he turned and walked away.

Jo Beth watched until he had disappeared around the corner of the village's only gas station, an aging frame building that tilted heavily to one side and looked as if a stiff wind would topple it over. Then she searched the crowd for Colter's mother.

Little Deer saw her oldest son heading for the ball field where hoop and pole would be played, leaving behind the fair-skinned woman he'd brought to the White Mountains. At first she was filled with glee, and then she saw the dejected slump of the woman's shoulders.

She closed her eyes and pretended not to see, but she remembered the camera and how much she liked having her picture made. More than that, she remembered how fiercely her son had protected the woman.

She turned to her friend, Bessie Running Water. “Gray Wolf has left his friend alone.”

“You should be glad. Didn't you tell me she is a used woman?”

Little Deer hesitated. She had heard the noises in the night—Gray Wolf coming to fetch the woman. She didn't know why she had ever told such a thing to Bessie Running Water, the biggest mouth in the village. It was one thing to talk about a used woman, but it was another thing to talk about her son.

“My son is perfect. He would never fool with a used woman.”

“You told me she was used.”

“You need a hearing aid, Bessie Running Water. I told you she was a
news
woman. She makes pictures for magazines.”

“She makes pictures?” Bessie plumped up her hair and sucked in her fat stomach. “Do you think she might make a picture of me?”

“No. I'm the one who poses for her. Go play the stave game. I must go to the woman Gray Wolf goes about with.”

Little Deer left the table where lunch was being prepared and went to Jo Beth.

“I saw you standing alone.”

Jo Beth smiled. “I was looking for you.”

“Did you want to make another picture? You could drive us home to get the camera.”

“Do you mind if we wait until tonight? I'd like to stay here and wait for Colter. When we go home to dress for the dance, I’ll get my camera.”

“Then come with me. I will show you the village.”

Jo Beth and Little Deer walked down the cracked sidewalks toward her youngest son's general store. On the way she pointed out the coffee shop, the gas station, and the dentist's office, giving a running commentary on each. She was a good historian, and Jo Beth enjoyed the tour.

“What is that building over there, Mrs. Gray?”

“The beauty shop. Bessie Running Water's daughter runs it. It took us ten years to convince her to share her beauty secrets.”

“That's nice. But I'm talking about the unfinished building next to it.”

“That's Gray Wolf’s clinic.”

“His clinic?”

Jo Beth stood in amazement, looking at the concrete slab and the steel girders grown over with vines.

“He has not told you of this clinic?”

“No. I'd like to know its history.”

“It is for Gray Wolf to say.”

Little Deer clamped her mouth shut, and Jo Beth faced another wall of silence. She was disturbed but not defeated. She put her hand on Little Deer's arm.

“I'm trying to understand your son, Mrs. Gray. I love him.”

Little Deer studied Jo Beth's face, and suddenly she saw the truth. This woman truly loved her son... and he loved her.

True love was so rare that it had to be guarded and protected. And if it broke her heart for a little while that her oldest son's wife would be a pale woman with yellow hair, she'd get over it when the babies started coming, for she knew that Gray Wolf was a powerful diyin. All the babies would look like him.

Little Deer smiled and covered the pale hand with her own. “I believe you do, my child. And you may call me Little Deer.”

Jo Beth was relieved and happy over Little Deer's sign of acceptance.

“Little Deer, about this clinic—” Zar's frantic barking interrupted Jo Beth. “Where is my dog?” She looked around for Zar, and the barking sounded again from the direction Colter had gone. “It's over there. He must have followed Colter.”

She sprinted off.

“Come back,” Little Deer called. “Women are taboo.”

She kept on running. She passed the row of stores, rounded the dilapidated service station, and came suddenly upon a small, grassy ball field. It was in chaos. Men in fringed buckskins were running this way and that, yelling and chasing after a gleeful golden retriever who had stolen the hoop. They were no match for Zar. He bounded ahead of them. Occasionally he dropped his prize, waved his tail in the air, and gave his you-can't-catch-me bark.

Jo Beth laughed and joined the chase. “Zar,” she called. “Drop it, boy. You're ruining the game.”

Twenty-five grown men came to a dead halt. Twenty-five pairs of eyes stared at her. Jo Beth kept running toward her mischievous dog. Colter watched, aware of the consequences, torn between going after Jo Beth and staying to placate his friends.

Suddenly the astonished hoop-and-pole players went into action, milling and taking.

“It's a woman,” someone yelled.

“Taboo! Taboo!”

“It's Gray Wolf’s woman.”

“Go after her.”

Colter's decision was made. He held up one hand. “Stop.” He didn't speak loudly; he didn't have to.

Standing head and shoulders taller than the rest of them and with a face as fierce as the animal he'd been named for, he commanded their attention.

“She is my woman. No one touches her.”

Still laughing, Jo Beth had reached Zar. When she heard Colter's voice, her laughter died. Too late, she realized that she had violated a sacred rule.

With one hand on Zar's collar, she turned to watch the group of men. Some of them were having a hard time keeping from laughing, but many of them, particularly the older ones, were obviously disturbed. And Colter was facing them.

A stocky man of about thirty stepped forward. “You know the rules, Gray Wolf.”

“Yes. I know the rules. But Jo Beth does not. Neither does her dog. How do you expect a twentieth-century golden retriever to know he's a descendant of the legendary coyote?” He smiled at them.

His attempt to use humor to lighten the situation worked. Several men chuckled. One agreed with him.

“Gray Wolf is right. Anyhow, it's only a game. An old game, as a matter of fact. I'd much rather be home watching baseball on TV.”

But others were not so easily satisfied.

“If all our women and their dogs violated the rules, there would be no tradition.”

“Tradition is a valuable part of our culture and should be preserved,” Colter said, “but not at the expense of common sense and common courtesy.”

He left the group and walked toward Jo Beth. When he reached her, he put his arm around her shoulders.

“I didn't mean to cause trouble, Colter.”

“You didn't. As a matter of fact, this game hasn't been so much fun since Bessie Running Water's cat crossed the field and got his tail caught in the hoop.” He chuckled. “You should have seen the look on Big Elk's face when Zar stole the hoop. I thought the whole thing was funny.”

“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.” She laughed.

'That's what I love to hear—the sound of your laughter.” He tipped her face up with one finger. “Do you want to stay and watch the game?”

“You'd do that? After defending me, don't you think flaunting me would be too much?”

“On second thought, it might give some of the younger men ideas.” He smiled at her. “And I don't want any other man having ideas about you.”

“Because I am your woman?” she asked lightly.

“Yes. Because you are my woman.”

Together they left the playing field, with Zar trotting along behind them. They joined Colter's mother at the dinner table, and for the first time since Jo Beth had arrived, the three of them had a lively conversation. Jo Beth considered it a milestone.

She tasted all the native foods that had been prepared—the pit-baked mescal, the boiled locust tree blossoms, the cactus fruits. And she watched Colter.

The dinner tables had been set up under a grove of trees across the square from his unfinished clinic. From time to time he glanced in that direction. Sometimes he looked quickly away, and other times he stared.

It was during one of those long gazes that she spoke to him. “That's your clinic, isn't it?”

He turned to her, but his face showed neither surprise nor anger. “How did you know?”

“Your mother and I toured the village. I asked her about that building. Why didn't you finish it?”

His eyes darkened, and she saw the pain there. She reached out and squeezed his hand.

“It hurts, doesn't it, Colter?”

“Yellow Bird...” he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. His eyes cleared, and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her about his clinic. Instead, he laughed. “Why spoil a perfect day talking about things that don't matter anymore?”