Winter's Touch (31 page)

He stopped at the foot of the porch steps and looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “I’ve got a bone to pick with ye,” he said with a snarl.

Gussie’s back went ramrod straight. “Indeed?” The nerve of this—this
foreigner
—to speak to her so!

“Aye,
indeed
.”

“And that would be?”

“My lassie, Winter Fawn, was happy until you came. She felt useful and needed. Now all she does is wander around looking like she’s lost her best friend. What have you done to the girl is what I’m wantin’ to know.”

“Done to her?” Gussie’s eyes widened. “I assure you, Mr. MacDougall, I have done nothing but try to make her days here as pleasant as possible.”

“And what, might I be askin’, is yer idea of pleasant?”

Gussie wasn’t sure why she was even conversing with this ill-mannered man.

No, that wasn’t true. She spoke with him as politely as possible because he was Carson’s friend, had been Edmond’s friend. And because what he was saying genuinely distressed her. Now that she thought of it, Winter Fawn did seem rather listless, but not having seen her any other way, Gussie had assumed she was merely a quiet young lady. If Gussie had done anything to make her sad…

“Well, I’ve taken over all the chores so that she is free to do whatever she wants.”

“Ye
what
? Ach, it’s no wonder then that the lass be at a loss. She’s never been idle a day in her life. She’s used to being needed, to keeping busy. Ye’ve made her feel useless, that’s what ye’ve done.”

The denial she wanted to utter died on her lips. She could see now that he was right. By taking away the work Winter Fawn had been doing, she had left the girl—young woman, she amended—with no sense of worth. Why, if anyone had ever done such a thing to
her
she would have cried herself to sleep.

But Gussie saw something else, too, something other than this particular mistake of hers. She saw the love that this man had for his children. Perhaps here, too, she had misjudged.

“Mr. MacDougall—”

“Innes. My name be Innes.”

There were some lines Gussie was not prepared to cross, not with this man. Perhaps he had more good points that she had realized, but he was still too depressingly unkempt for her liking. “Mr. MacDougall,” she said firmly. “I can see now that what you say about Winter Fawn is true, and I am deeply sorry for being the cause of her unhappiness. I assure you I will endeavor to correct the situation at once.”

The sun was full up now, and it threw half his face in shadow, but not so much that she couldn’t tell that he was peering at her from one eye.

“Endeavor to correct?” he repeated warily.

“That’s right.”

“Well, then, see that ye do.” With a sharp nod, he stomped off toward the barn while Gussie stepped into the house.

“Is there a problem?” Carson asked Innes when the man reached the barn.

Innes pulled his flask from the pouch on his belt and took a swallow. Jamming the cork back in, he let out a gust of breath that would have knocked over a horse, if one had been close enough.

“What’s it mean, this word
endeavor
?”

Carson shrugged. “Try.”

“Hmph. Try what?”

“Try. Endeavor means to try.”

“Oh. Aye. Hmph. Any objections if I go huntin’ today?”

“Innes.” Carson shook his head. “I’ve told you before that you don’t owe me anything. You’re free to come and go as you please.”

Innes squinted one eye. “Is that a no?”

Innes rode west to do his hunting, and Hunter rode with him. Carson, Beau, and Frank spent the day cutting trees in the hills to the north for firewood and snaking them back to the ranch. They came back to the house for the noon meal, then went back to the hills for another load of logs. When they brought the last logs down for the day, they were hot, dirty, and tired. While Beau and Frank cleaned up at the bunkhouse before coming in to supper, Carson headed for the house.

He rounded the corner, heading for the front door, and came up short at the sight of Winter Fawn. There she stood, as she had the other day, staring off toward the northeast.

He made himself walk the rest of the way to the edge of the porch. “You scare me when you do that.”

She must have heard him coming, for she didn’t jump as if surprised by his voice. She merely turned her head and looked at him with solemn, curious eyes. “When I do what?”

“When you stand there all alone and stare off in the direction of your village.”

“They would have gone by now, somewhere out along the Arkansas to gather together with the rest of the tribe and hunt the buffalo.”

“You miss that,” he said flatly.

“No, actually. I dinna miss packing up and moving the village out onto the plains. Da used to tell us stories of white men who lived in the same place season after season. I’ve always wondered what that would be like.”

“Then why do you look as if you want to go? You said not to let you go,” he reminded her. “Yet I get the feeling you’re the one thinking of leaving.”

Her smile, slight as it was, was sad. “I do not know what I will do. I canna stay here forever.”

“Why not?”

“Would you?” she asked.

“Last night you—”

She looked away, off into the distance again. “Last night was a mistake.”

“No.” He leaped onto the porch and grasped her arm. “It wasn’t a mistake. You didn’t think so at the time.”

Again came that sad smile that tore at his insides. “I didna think at all.”

“Are you saying I took advantage of your fear of the storm?”

“Nae.” She shook her head and gently pulled her arm from his grasp. “I’m saying that when you touch me, all I can think about is touching you, and my mind is no longer my own.”

Carson’s heart knocked against his ribs. “Believe me,” he said with feeling. “I know just what you mean. We can have more of that, if you stay. Remember how good it was that last morning in the mountains?” He touched her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “I want to give you that again. It can be even better the next time.”

“Please.” Her eyes slid shut. “Do not say such things to me.”

“Why? Why are you talking of leaving? I thought you wanted…I thought you liked the things you feel when we’re together.”

“Like them?” She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I crave them. I want them—you—so much that I canna think of aught else.”

“Then why—”

“You are the one who kept reminding me that I must wait for the man who will be my husband. Is that man you, Carson? Are you asking me to be your mate, your wife? Or are you thinking I’ll make a good wh—”

“Don’t say it!” He gripped her arms and shook her twice. “Don’t you dare say it.
Never.
I’ve
never
thought of you that way. Damn you for even thinking it.”

“If I’m to be neither your wife nor your whore, then are we to be merely friends?”

Carson stared at her. Hard. He couldn’t believe the turn in the conversation.

“Friends do not do the things we have done together. At least not among Our People. Do they among whites? Would your aunt and your sister and your daughter understand if I were to be that kind of friend to you and you to me?”

“What is this?” He turned loose of her arms and stepped back. “I’ve been blind-sided once by a woman and ended up married and wishing I wasn’t. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“I do not know this word, blind-sided. I was merely explaining why I canna stay here. I knew you didna want me for your wife, Carson. But you’ve made me realize what the alternative would be, and that would be as unacceptable to me as my becoming your wife would be to you.”

Carson took a slow, deep breath, then let it out. This was not Julia, northern beauty, trying to get him, Southern planter, to the alter just to shock her congressman father. This was Winter Fawn, and she would leave him if he didn’t stop her. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. One day he would wake up and she would be gone.

The thought was intolerable.

What the hell. She was beautiful and he wanted her. He had planned to someday marry to provide a mother for Megan. He couldn’t expect Gussie to spend the rest of her life raising his daughter.

“Did you mean what you said about wanting to live in one place instead of roaming the prairie?”

“Aye, I think I would like that, but such a thing is not possible for me,” she said, looking off into the distance again.

“It is possible. I think you’re right—we should get married.”

Winter Fawn gaped and stared at him. “I never said we should do such a thing.”

“Why not? Think about it. I need a wife, Megan needs a mother. You need a home. We want each other. That’s more than most people have going for them when they get married.”

“You say nothing of love.”

She made a direct hit with that one. He didn’t want to love a woman. That way lay heartache. “Neither do you,” he responded.

Winter Fawn closed her eyes and tried to breath. So. He didna love her, but would marry her to keep her from leaving. She supposed she should accept his offer. Or rather, send him to her father, as was the way of Our People. But to live with him day after day and never have his love…

At least if she had married Crooked Oak, she wouldna care that he didna love her.

With Carson, she knew she would care too much.

“Nae,” she told him. She did him the courtesy of opening her eyes when she spoke, but she tried her best not to see his face. “I dinna want a man who willna marry me, but I willna marry a man who disnae love me.”

The band of Southern Arapaho led by Little Raven had left its winter encampment and joined the rest of the tribe along the banks of the Arkansas. There was much revelry as old friends were greeted, new children were shown off, exploits bragged about.

Little Raven kept a close eye on the warriors whenever they gathered, for fear they would speak more of fighting than of finding the buffalo. But with Crooked Oak gone, it was fairly easy to keep even the dog soldiers from doing anything drastic.

Crooked Oak could stay gone, as far as Little Raven was concerned. Little Raven did wonder what had become of Winter Fawn, but he assumed she was somewhere with her father and brother. This is what her uncle, Two Feathers, now believed, which was why he had left Crooked Oak and returned to Our People. Long Chin and Talks Loud had come with him. They said that Crooked Oak was determined to find her, even though they had searched the mountains for weeks and found no sign. Red Bull and Spotted Calf had remained with Crooked Oak.

Little Raven was confident that one day Winter Fawn would return to let them know what had happened to her. She would not leave her grandparents to wonder and worry.

For now, Little Raven must decide what to do about the message he had just received. The white fathers wanted another peace council. They wanted the Arapaho, the Cheyenne, and others to gather at Medicine Lodge Creek in the place they called Kansas. No doubt they would want Our People to confine themselves to a reservation, as had happened with other tribes. Little Raven did not care for the idea of a reservation, unless it meant that the whites must stay away. If there was game and good water and no whites…

Ah, but how was he ever to convince the Dogmen that another treaty was better for the tribe than going to war?

Man-Above, guide me. Send me a sign. Should we go to war, or should we make peace?

“I wonder if we can grow squash here.” Gussie tapped the blunt end of her pencil against her chin.

Carson looked up from the poker hand he held. The family, except for Megan, who was in bed, was seated around the table after supper. Bess and Winter Fawn were each bent over an article of clothing, plying needle and thread to mend various tears. Carson and Innes were teaching Hunter the finer points of five card stud.

“Planning a garden?” Carson asked.

“Yes.” Gussie smiled. “We certainly need one, but I’m not sure what will grow well here. I suppose the merchant in town can advise me. I thought,” she said, glancing at Winter Fawn, who sat across the table from her, “that we could purchase seeds when we go to town Saturday, and that perhaps Winter Fawn might not object too strongly to being in charge of our garden.”

A big smile slowly lit Innes’s face. “Ach, that be a fair good idea.”

Winter Fawn looked up, skeptical. “I know nothing of gardening.”

“Oh, but you could learn,” Bess offered. “Aunt Gussie can teach you, and I can help.”

“Certainly,” Gussie added. “And think what a useful skill you’ll possess.”

Winter Fawn glanced down at her mending. “I will be glad to help in any way I can, but gardening is not something I can do once I return to Our People. We do not stay in one place long enough to grow anything.”

Reaction to her calm statement came swiftly.

Innes looked thunderstruck.

Hunter merely watched her, his face expressionless.

“Return?” Bess cried. “Oh, Winter Fawn, you wouldn’t leave us, would you?”

Carson slapped his cards face down on the table so hard the globe rattled in the lamp. “You’re not going back,” he protested. “Good God, woman, they tried to kill you. Twice!”

Winter Fawn kept her gaze steadily on her sewing. “’Twas you they tried to kill. I merely got in the way.”

“Winter Fawn,” Bess cried again. “Say you don’t mean it. You can’t leave us. We need you!”

Finally Winter Fawn looked up at Bess with a half smile. “I canna stay here forever. This is your home, your place in the world. I must find mine.”

“This would be yours,” Carson said, his eyes narrowed, “if you’d just marry me, like I asked.”

Winter Fawn stiffened. She could not believe he said such a thing. To her it was private, between the two of them, not a thing to be discussed around the table.

“What’s this?” Innes roared.

“Carson!” Bess jumped up and hugged his neck. “You proposed? And no one said anything?”

“She did.” Carson’s mouth twisted down at the corners. “She said no.”

“But…but
why
?” Bess wanted to know of Winter Fawn. “Oh, it’s perfect. It’s the answer to everything. When you marry Carson, you’ll be my sister for real.”