The Price (3 page)

Both Clara and Felicia eyed appreciatively the good looking young man who seemed to be almost shy in nature, but having spent time with Luke herself, Kate understood that he was a man who chose his words wisely; he was not accustom to idle speech unless he had something to say.

“What is it, Luke?” She asked as she maneuvered her son up over her shoulder and continued patting his back.

“My grandmother wishes to place her blessing upon the babe,” said Luke, shifting from foot to foot as if he were nervous. “It is part of our ancient ways and, normally, is performed only for tribesmen, but grandmother has insisted she wants to bless the white woman’s child.”

“Well, aren’t you special?” Clara looked at Kate and lifted an amused brow. She shrugged, then waved a hand, as if, asking her to be quiet.

“Is it like a baptism of sorts?” She asked, focusing on the young hand, and ignoring Clara and Felicia’s snickers.

“Kind of,” said Luke, as his nerves spilled over and he laughed.

“I don’t see the harm in it.”

Actually, she thought it was rather special for her son to be honored by the tribe’s shaman.

“Where is she?” She stood from the couch and placed a sleeping Jesse in the bassinet.

“She’s waiting in the foyer,” answered Luke.

“You left your grandmother in the foyer?” Kate shook her head and rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong with you two?”

“We weren’t sure you would agree,” stated Dustin, with Kate brushing past him and Luke.

“It’s not like she’s going to put some hex on my son.” She stopped in front of Luke and tilted her head. “Is she?”

“No,” he laughed. “Grandmother believes in blessings much more than curses.”

Why did Kate get the feeling that the old woman knew how to dispel both? It appeared that Clara felt the same way as she jumped to her feet and blocked Kate from going any further.

“Have you ever met, Mariah?” Clara questioned in a hushed tone, pulling Kate aside.

“No, why?”

“Well I have.” Clara shuddered. “And that old woman is scary as hell. She gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh, she can’t be that bad,” said Kate, trying to make light of her friend’s overly superstitious nature.

“She
is
that bad and I’m not about to stick around to watch her do her mumbo-jumbo on Jesse.” Clara motioned to her sister. “Time to go, Felicia.”

Felicia gathered up Henry by taking his hand and joined her sister’s side before they all headed for the door.

“See ya´ later, Kate,” called Clara as the three walked out the front door.

Wouldn’t Jack be pleased to know that all it took was mentioning Mariah’s name for Clara to be gone like the wind?
She chuckled inwardly, thinking she would keep that bit of information to herself.

Kate was the last to enter the foyer. It was then she spotted the old Indian woman resting on the settee. Her hair was as white as snow, and her eyes were as black as coal. She was much older than Kate imagined. As a matter of fact, Mariah looked ancient with long, bony fingers and facial lines that reflected a century of life.

“How do you do. I’m Kate McBride.” She walked up to the old woman.

“I know who you are,” Mariah’s voice crackled, looking up at the white woman with legs as long as her arms. “You are the spirit-talker. Yes?”

“I beg your pardon?” Kate looked to Luke for interpretation.

“Grandmother has heard how you saved Black Thunder from the ranchers and set him free on the State’s land,” said Luke. “She believes you carry the gift of speaking to horses.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Kate half-smiled as she looked at the old woman. “Welcome to my home. Can I get you something to drink? Tea perhaps?”

“I have not come to socialize,” stated the old healer as she rose slowly from the settee. Taking her arm, Kate helped Mariah to her feet.

“These old bones don’t work like they used to,” she stated in a perpetual frown. “There is a spirit of gentleness about you, spirit-talker.” Her coal-like eyes gazed up into soft blue. “Jack McBride has chosen well.”

“You know my husband?” Kate assisted her into the living room.

“I have known Jack McBride from the time he was your son’s age.” She paused by the bassinet and peered in to take a good look at the infant. “His mother, God rest her soul, was a lovely woman, but his father…” She shook her wiry-silver head. “He gave in to the Dark Spirit of Firewater.”

“Jack doesn’t remember much about his mother,” she confessed.

“No, I suspect he wouldn’t, considering he was not much more than five when she left this earth.”

Kate heard the front door open and turned to see Jack place his hat next to his drover coat on the foyer’s hall tree and bench before entering the living room.

“I heard we had company,” said Jack, striding up alongside Kate and the old woman. “Pehnaho, Mariah!”

“Should I be impressed,
white man
, that you remember the ways of the Shoshone?” Mariah frowned.

“I can recall enough phrases to get me by,” he grinned amusingly at the old woman.

“I have come to speak blessings over the spirit-talker’s son.”

“Kate and I would be most honored.” Jack wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist.

Mariah removed the pouch tied around her neck. She opened it and retrieved two vials; one filled with water and the other, with something that looked like red paint. She began to chant, leaning over the bassinet while their son slept. It was low and melodic, and Kate tried to make out the words, but she couldn’t.

As she continued her song, she sprinkled the water over the babe. When the vial was drained, she opened the red, paint-like tube and allowed it to drip on to her fingertip. The chant changed to short, crisp-like notes. She dabbed the red liquid on the babe’s forehead and on the tops of his hands and feet.

Mariah withdrew a sheath and bent forward over the bassinet. Jack saw the horrified look on Kate’s face. Like the protective lioness, she was about to object, until Jack placed his hand on hers and lovingly eased her fears.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, having witnessed the blessing ritual before. “He’s in no danger of being harmed.”

Kate nodded, but continued to hold her breath and clutch Jack’s hand. Mariah cut a piece of the child’s hair and ran it through the red liquid on his forehead, hands and feet. She then tied it up with a thin cord, weaving it through the fine strands of hair.

“A totem to protect the young McBride.” The old woman disclosed and handed it to Jack.

“Thank you,” he said, and nodded in respect to the old woman’s beliefs.

Mariah finished her chanting and took a step back from the bassinet.

“He will be a warrior like you,” she said to Jack then turned to Kate. “But he will have your gift.”

Kate wasn’t sure what gift she was referring to, but, at this moment, it didn’t matter. All she really wanted was for this odd and mysterious woman to leave.

“Lucas, my work is done here,” said Mariah, to her grandson. “Take me home!”

“Yes, Grandmother,” said Luke, hearing her call him by his given name. He reached for her arm and walked her to the front door, taking minute steps to match her pace.

Jack and Kate followed behind and stopped at the front door.

“Thank you for your blessing over my son,” said Jack. He bent down and hugged the old woman.

“Yes, thank you,” added Kate and she gave the old woman a kiss to her cheek.

Mariah’s head did a sharp turn and she looked up at the white woman with all-knowing black, translucent eyes. The hairs on the back of Kate’s neck instantly stood. It was unnerving to say the least.

“Is something wrong, Mariah?” Jack questioned as he lay a protective hand to Kate’s shoulder.

The old woman looked at Jack then returned her attention to Kate. She stared into a pair of blue eyes—continuing through, as if searching for something else. In the time it took Kate to blink, the old woman’s manner changed returning to normal, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

“I shall come again when called.” Mariah waved them off then stepped on to the porch with the assistance of her grandson.

“Good bye, Mariah,” said Jack.

“You have forgotten how to say “farewell” in Shoshone?” she said as she lifted her white-eyed brow.

“Wasn’t it enough I remembered ‘hello’?” Jack produced a semblance of a grin.

“Ah, the arrogance of youth,” she frowned.

Luke walked his grandmother to the truck. Opening the door for her, he helped her ease into the seat. The old woman glanced at the sun-haired beauty and heaved a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong, Grandmother?” Luke asked, seeing unrest in her eyes.

“There is a cloud over the spirit-talker,” she said.

“You mean Kate?”

The old woman nodded. “Watch her closely, my young one.”

“What is it you see?” he questioned.

“I am not certain. Only, that it rains over her soul. You will know when the time grows near,” was her only response, and then she stopped talking.

Luke knew that look. She would not disclose any more to him that day. It was his turn to sigh, as he pulled away from the log-built home.

“Grandmother, how will I know?” he asked, traveling along the dirt path and on to the main road.

But his grandmother remained silent, as they headed toward Carson City and the Indian Reservation.

TWO

PHONE CALLS

“Make the phone-call, Kate!” Jack stood in their bedroom, leaning over the bassinet housing the sleeping infant.

“I will,” said Kate, returning from the bathroom and checked on her son.

“It’s been two weeks since we’ve been home,” said Jack. “Just call her and get it over with.”

“I said . . . I WILL!” She felt her voice rise and her back stiffen.

“If you keep stalling, we’ll be sending your mother an invitation to his graduation.” He walked over to her and took her in his arms. “There’s nothing she can do to hurt us.”

“You don’t know her like I do,” said Kate, feeling that awful knot in the out of her stomach at the thought of making the call. “She’ll find a way of killing it for me.”

“You give her way too much power, baby.” He lifted her chin to look at him. “Make the call so we can get on with our lives.”

“Fine, I’ll call her.” She caved just to get Jack off her back. “But I’ll do it downstairs so I don’t wake Jesse when the yelling starts.”

“Call her in the study,” Jack offered, and took his son from the bassinet. “I’ll take care of my little man,” then smothered Jesse with kisses.

Kate released a resigned sigh and left the bedroom. She stopped in the kitchen first and got herself a cup of tea. She was prolonging the inevitable, before making the call and with tea mug in hand; she finally walked into the study and sat behind the desk.

Kate held her cell phone and searched for her mother’s number. She took a deep breath and hit the button. She placed it to her ear and listened as the phone rang, praying it would go to voicemail. To her dismay, a strong feminine voice answered.

“Hello Mother,” she said in monotone while she picked up a pencil on the desk and started tapping it. “It’s Kathryn.”

“I know who it is.” Her mother answered in the condescending voice Kate remembered, all too well. “You only call when there has been a cataclysmic change. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said in the same tone as before. “I’m calling to tell you some good news.”

“I hope you’re calling to tell me you’ve come to your senses and ended your ridiculous marriage to that cowboy,” stated Marnie St. Claire. “I swear I don’t know what got into your head to move out there and marry your rebound affair.”

“I wasn’t the one who had the affair, Mother,” said Kate dryly, the pencil snapping in her hand. “That was Paul’s doing.”

“He made a mistake, Kathryn. Are you
ever
going to forgive him and set things right again?”

“I didn’t call to talk about Paul.” She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips.

“Then what did you call for?” she questioned.

Kate paused and tossed the broken pencil in the trash before continuing.

“I wanted to let you know that you are a Grandmother,” she blurted out. “Jack and I have a son together. His name is Jesse Alexander McBride.”

“Oh dear God.” The voice echoed like a foghorn through the phone and Kate set it down on the desk, to give her ear a break. “What have you done Kathryn? Now you are going to be stuck with that cowpoke for the rest of your life.”

“I was hoping you would be happy for me,” said Kate, hitting the speaker button and settling back in the chair as the tiny pin pricked her joy balloon, letting the air out a little.

“How can I be happy for you when you just destroyed your life?”

“Oh Mother, don’t over-dramatize everything,” Kate huffed, swiveling side to side in the chair. “I didn’t destroy anything. I love Jack and Jack loves me, and now we have a baby together. I thought you would want to know.”

“Well now I guess I have no choice but to come out there and see for myself,” said Marnie matter-of-factly.

“It isn’t necessary.” She bolted upright in the chair and returned the phone to her ear.

“Of course it is. Someone has to clean up your mess.”

“I don’t want you coming here, cleaning up messes that
don’t
need to be cleaned,” Kate raised her voice in opposition.

“Kathryn, don’t act like a child,” she scolded. “I will be arriving on Friday.”

“That’s
two days
from now!” Kate gasped. Emotionally she would never have time to prepare. She suspected her mother already knew that.

“I will see you then, and we can continue this conversation in person,” she said, not wavering.

“Fine. I’ll see you Friday,” said Kate, laying her head on the desk.

She heard no goodbye from the other end, only the phone disconnecting.

“Oh, this is not good,” she groaned, and opened her hand, allowing the phone to fall where it may.

“Bad news?” Came a strong male voice in the doorway.

Kate looked up and saw Jack leaning against the frame.

“She’s coming here.” Kate frowned, and flopped back in the chair.