Untamed (39 page)

Daniel brought both hands to his forehead and rubbed furiously for a minute. Then he muttered, "I don't know what to say."

"Shit seems appropriate."

From above them in the loft came a couple of small echoes. "Shit?"

"Shit, shit."

"That's enough," Daniel hollered, following up the reprimand with a few Cheyenne rebukes. Then he glanced down at Josie, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Sorry, I thought they were still asleep," she muttered. "I was raised in a houseful of boys who never minded a thing they said. I guess it kind of rubbed off on me. I'll try not to cuss in front of the twins again."

"I'd appreciate it." He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "Shit," he whispered under his breath,

"My thoughts exactly."

Daniel looked up, the scolding parent again. "Speaking of your thoughts, you still haven't told me why you took a shot at me."

Josie sighed, a little unsure of the answer herself. "I wasn't really aiming at you. I just wanted to let those savages know that I meant business." She bolted upright. "Oh my God. Where are they? They haven't taken Sweetpea, have they?"

"No." He tried to remain stern, but Josie could see that Daniel was struggling to keep from laughing. "You scared the blue hell out of them, screeching and shooting off the gun the way you did. Cheyenne men take enraged wives very seriously. They ran out of here so fast, they're probably halfway back to the camp by now."

Josie could not make herself feet the slightest bit of guilt. "They had no business coming around here in the first place. They're lucky I didn't accidentally shoot one of them."

"You're lucky you're married to me. God knows what they'd have done if you weren't my wife."

"Lucky?" The tears fell then, blinding her. "If I wasn't your wife, I wouldn't be in this condition. You've ruined my life, Daniel McCord, ruined it beyond repair."

"Is that so?" Not surprisingly, this remark offended him deeply. He leapt off the bed. "As I recall, you're the one who wanted to get married in the first place. All I've done is give you a roof over your head, a place to keep that stinking buffalo, and a nice big target so you can practice shooting my gun. How the hell did any of that ruin your life?"

"You talked me into doing the hurdy-gurdy, that's how." Josie tossed one of the pillows at him, hitting him square in the belly. "All I wanted was my freedom and the chance to build a ranch of my own, but look at me. I' m right back to doing what I swore I'd never do for any man—cooking, cleaning, and God help me, making babies."

She threw herself face-first into the other pillow then, sobbing against the soft flannel cover, and stayed that way until she felt Daniel's weight on the bed again.

He patted her back as if she were a child. "I can understand why you're upset about the baby, I guess, but I thought you enjoyed the rest. You're such a good cook, and the cabin has never looked this good before. I didn't know you hated it so."

Sitting up, Josie dabbed her tears with the sleeve of her buckskin shirt. "Oh, Daniel. It's not that I hate the cabin. What I hate is being a housewife and the thought of becoming a mother. I just want my freedom and my own ranch."

He looked deflated, like bread that hadn't quite risen to the occasion. "I guess I didn't realize how serious you were about that."

"I was, and I am, but how can I make that dream come true now? I'll be lucky if I can even get Sweetpea to Miles City come spring when my belly is out to here." She circled her arms in front of her stomach. "Even if I manage that no banker in his right mind is going to give a pregnant woman and her kid brother money to start a ranch."

"Maybe you don't have to do that." Now his expression was full of hope. "What's wrong with ranching here? We're already raising cattle, and as you've mentioned before, you could be quite a lot of help."

Josie wouldn't let herself consider the possibility. "It's your ranch, that's what's wrong. I want my own."

"I wish I could think of a way to help you," Daniel said with a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid that sharing this place with you is about the best I have to offer."

Josie laughed bitterly, thinking how much easier these things were for men. "You could help by going to the bank yourself and asking for the loan. Of course, then my dream ranch would be in your name, not mine."

"I wouldn't waste your time worrying about that," he snapped. "Bankers won't give their money to a half-breed any faster than they will to a pregnant woman."

In all her scheming and planning, Josie had never even considered this, but Daniel was right, wrong as it seemed. He was painfully right.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, feeling the sting of something that went beyond guilt. "I never thought of that."

"Maybe you should have before you married me."

Daniel pushed away from the bed in such a rigid, cold way that Josie knew he wouldn't be coming back to it for a good long time. Maybe not even tonight.

"Cheer up," he continued tonelessly. "The name, if not the man you borrowed, should still be worth something to you. It might take a little longer than you had in mind, but Missus Daniel McCord ought to be able to get that loan once the baby is born. And don't worry—I'll be damn sure to stay away from town so no one catches sight of the man behind the name."

With that, he turned and strode out the door, slamming it harder than Josie had when she went chasing after the Indians.

* * *

As she feared, Daniel didn't come to their bed that evening, choosing instead to sleep up in the loft with his sons. Josie supposed she couldn't blame him for having hurt feelings, but she missed his warmth and the sense of security it gave her to lie there in his arms. She snuggled in his pillow, breathing deeply of his scent, and found some measure of comfort. Still, she spent most of the night tossing and turning with very little sleep.

The following morning, Daniel got up before the sun, managed to sneak past her as she dozed fitfully, and fired up the stove. It was the smell of coffee that finally awakened her, not the opening and closing of the door or the sudden lack of his presence. The smell. Josie's stomach got her moving before she was ready to face the cold room, and it got her moving fast. She barely made it to the garbage bucket before she heaved up the remnants of last night's supper.

Afterward, as she lay there panting on the frigid floor, a small voice whispered, "Are you sick, Ma Jofess?"

She turned her head to the side and saw a small worried face. "Just a little bit, Bang. Nothing for you to get upset about."

"I Two Moons. I can save you."

Josie forced herself to sit up. "Save me from what?"

"From sick."

"There's no need," she said, struggling to her feet. "I feel better already."

"I want save you," he insisted.

Although she didn't understand what drove him, Josie did see the urgency in his fiercely tense little features. She feigned a swoon.

"Oh, no," she cried. "I think I'm going to faint. Quick, Two Moons, pull out the chair for me."

He scrambled around behind her, did as she instructed, and then Josie let herself fall into the chair. "Oh, thank you. If you weren't so quick, I might have fallen on the floor and hurt myself."

"Bang saves Pa." He grinned, showing off an uneven row of front teeth. "I save Ma Jofess."

It suddenly made sense. Daniel had told her that one of the boys had flung a war club at the renegades and probably saved his hide. Because he was the more aggressive of the two, she'd mistakenly assumed that boy was Two Moons. She supposed that now he either felt a lot of guilt over not having helped his father, or he was just plain jealous of his brother. In either case, the child had decided to make her the target of his good deeds. Seeing a way to smooth things between herself and the usually ornery twin, Josie lightly ruffled the top of his head.

"Thank you, kid. You're a really big help."

"What is kid?"

Josie thought about that a minute, wondering if Daniel would think the nickname any better than hell or damnation. She thought he'd find it acceptable, even if it wasn't quite as respectful as he would have liked.

"It just means child," she said, making light of the name. "Kind of like when your pa calls you mooksush, or whatever it is."

"Moksois, " he said, correcting her.

"Right, moksois. What does that mean?"

He screwed up his round features, then pushed out his belly and wrapped his arms around it. "Big like pot."

"Potbelly?"

Two Moons laughed, his dark eyes twinkling. "Potbelly."

Josie laughed along with him, but not for long. Thinking of potbellies only made her remember what her own tummy would look like in a few short months. Feeling her stomach churn at the thought, she said, "Can you reach the biscuits, Two Moons? I'd think I'd feel better if I get part of one down."

Still glad to be of service, he scampered over to the counter and pulled himself up. It was then she noticed how much he resembled Daniel in profile. That made her wonder what her own baby would look like. And if it would fit in with the world of the whites, the Indians—or neither.

Later that morning, sometime around noon, Josie found that she was suddenly so tired that it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. The twins had gone outside to help their father gather wood, the dirty dishes could wait, and she hadn't gotten around to making the bed up yet. Dragging herself across the room, she flopped onto the inviting sheets and fell asleep before she'd even tucked a pillow under her head.

As she dozed, Josie dreamed of babies and soiled diapers, of miniature Indians chasing after her wearing huge warbonnets with feathers that trailed the ground. Somewhere in the middle of that dream she heard birds singing and The Black's high-pitched whinnies as he kicked against his stall. Vague scratching sounds met her ears after that, and then suddenly she had the sense that someone was nearby. Josie's eyes flew open to see that Sissy was standing next to the bed.

"Oh, my stars," she said, sitting up. "You scared me half to death."

"Didn't mean to. I knocked on the door, then slammed it hard enough to wake the dead."

"I guess I was more tired than I thought." Josie climbed off the bed and gave her a quick hug. "I'm so glad you came. You look wonderful."

And she did. Not only did Sissy have a new dress with beautiful, intricate beading, something about her entire face had changed. She looked younger, for one thing, and her features no longer seemed to droop. Her hair was still bushy, but she wore it in braids, in the way of the Cheyenne. In fact, she could almost have passed as a full-blooded member of the tribe.

"It looks to me like you're starting to like living on an Indian reservation."

"Where I live don't matter much to me. I'm happy s'all." With a shy little smile, Sissy headed for the stove. "Mind if I help myself to the coffee?"

"Please do." Josie took a seat at the table, eager for a little female banter. "So how are you and Long Belly getting along?"

"Pretty good." Sissy slipped into the chair across from Josie. "We went and got hitched."

"Married?"

"That's right," she said, blowing on the rim of her cup. "At least we're hitched as far as the Cheyenne are concerned. Don't know how legal it is anywheres else."

The legalities weren't exactly what Josie was after. Living with Long Belly instead of going back to a whorehouse was one thing, but actually marrying him, even under the temporary terms she and Daniel had agreed to, was quite another.

"Tell me about all about it. Did he propose? Why did you say yes?"

"Ain't that much to tell," Sissy explained. "He wanted to get hitched and so did I. Then his family dressed me all up, painted my face, and stuffed me with a whole lot, of strange eats. After that I was officially known as Buffalo Hair, woman of Long Belly. Something like that."

She frowned then, looking a little like the Sissy of old. "That's enough babbling about me. I came to find out if it's true that you took a shot at White Bull."

"White Bull?" Josie batted innocent eyelashes. "Who's that?"

"He's the big chief know-it-all in charge of the tribe. He come up here yesterday with some of the elders. Now do you remember him?"

Josie casually looked out the window, feeling anything but indifferent as she admitted, "Oh, yes. Now that I think of it, I do recall a few Indians circling the corral yesterday and upsetting Sweetpea."

"Do you also recall going after them with a gun?"

"Vaguely." At least that was the truth. "And so what if I did? They were trying to steal my buffalo."

"Oh, princess, you cain't mean to keep that animal for yourself. The Cheyenne people worship that buffalo like it's some kind of God."

She'd figured out by now that a certain spiritualism was involved with Long Belly's quest to have Sweetpea presented to his tribe, but Josie refused to accept the idea that she had to give up her own dreams in favor of theirs.

"Why doesn't anyone care how I feel about Sweetpea or how she figures in my future?" she asked, wounded to think that her only friend in the world had turned on her too. "That buffalo is my only chance for freedom. Does she mean that much to the Cheyenne? What if they decide to sacrifice her or something?"

Sissy shrugged. "I don't know what-all they got in mind for her. I just know that Long Belly said I had to talk you into giving her up. I don't think he'd a asked me to do it if it weren't real important."

"And I wouldn't be trying so hard to hang on to her if I didn't think it was real important, too." Josie had a few more thoughts on the subject, but before she could express them, the crazies caught up with her again. She suddenly burst out crying.

"Hey, princess." Sissy reached across the table and patted her hand. "I was just wanting to talk. No need to get all drip-nosed over a stinking buffalo."

"Oh, Sissy," she said, still sobbing. "It's not just Sweetpea that has me so upset. You don't know the half of my troubles. I'm in a family way."

"You're knocked up?"

Josie nodded, and then burst into a fresh round of tears.