Wolf Shadow’s Promise (5 page)

A wave of remorse rushed over her, perhaps for things that could have been, but the emotion was quickly replaced by anger. This was
her
cellar, these were
her
caves and caverns. No one was allowed here.

Her anger overriding her caution, Alys pulled up the cellar doors. If someone else were using her caves, she meant to find out about it.

Pushing her skirt between her legs, she climbed down into the darkness, quickly finding the rug that was sup
posed to hide the false bottom of the floor. However, the rug had already been pulled back, the opening of the caves revealed. She breathed out a sigh and, bending down, swiftly negotiated the ladder, vaulting down to the hard rock floor of the caves, the coldness of the ground seeping into her slippers. Complete and utter blackness engulfed her, but such a thing meant nothing to her. She picked up the lantern that always hung there and lit it, its flicker splattering light across the thick, solid boulders. Shadows appeared and disappeared on those walls, but she ignored them. She held no fear of these caves.

These were
her
caverns. Hers and her mother's alone.

She would ensure they remained that way. Grabbing a shovel, she proceeded cautiously.

P
erhaps an amateur might have been disoriented by the blackness of the caves. Not so, Alys. She followed the trail of blood easily and found that the man's path kept to the main cavern, not diverging off into some of the lesser used passages.

As she moved farther and farther into the tunnels, she calmed down somewhat and became more determined to confront the intruder. But as she did so, the coolness of the underground caverns seeped into her. Perhaps she had been unwise to come here without a warmer wrap, but it was too late now to go back.

She grimaced. The man, this Wolf Shadow, was going nowhere, not if this trail of blood held any indication of his condition. A feeling of premonition swept over her. What if this man and the boy Moon Wolf were truly one and the same and she got to him too late?

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, two golden eyes appeared in front of her. It had to be the wolf who accompanied the man. Would the animal attack? She had no time
to ponder the question, however, or even to feel fear. If she were running into his pet, she knew the man himself was close-by.

The animal soon gave her to understand that it meant her no harm. Instead of growling or attacking, it whined, coming up close to her, then pushing away; back toward her again. It repeated the action. In truth, it couldn't have said “follow me” plainer than if it had spoken to her. And so, she trailed after the wolf, down through a little used cavern, around a bend.

It didn't take long to find the man, collapsed as he was on the chilly floor. She realized, too, that if he weren't unconscious from the loss of blood, he soon would be from the shock of the cold, stone floor.

She approached him tenuously, shovel held high. Would he attack her, if awake? Was there still danger from the wolf?

The man remained motionless, even when she stood directly over him. Was he unconscious? Dead, maybe?

Setting the shovel and lantern down, she bent over him, one hand going to his chest, the other to what should be the pulse in his neck.

He was alive. Barely. The beat was weak.

It was amazing to her that he had negotiated the caves this far. Removing her gloves and kneeling next to him, she checked his head, his arms, his chest. No injury there, though his body was chilled. Much too cold. She would have to do something to warm him.

She couldn't tell his identity, at least not right now. He wore too much paint on his face, plus the wolf headdress hid his more prominent features.

Still looking for the injury, she made a path down his body, its instantaneous jerk telling her she was getting close. Down his hips, inward toward his upper thighs, her
hand suddenly came in contact with something warm and sticky. His body convulsed.

Blood.

The injury was to his thigh, the wound still bleeding heavily. She would have to tie a tourniquet around his upper leg and then…she would have to remove that bullet.

She needed a doctor, that's what she needed. But who could she trust? The closest medical doctor in these parts was a week's hard ride east, to Fort Buford. Too long a trip.

True, there were people here at the fort who tended to one another when needed, but could she trust any of them with this man's secret? With her own secret of the caves?

She considered moving him into her house, but she instantly dismissed the idea. She didn't have the strength to do it, nor, if she were honest, did he. Plus, moving him right now might exacerbate his injury.

There was nothing for it. She would have to tend to him herself…here. She had seen a doctor take a bullet from a man once.

All she needed was a knife, fire, hot water…and courage.

Lifting her skirt, she tore a strip from her petticoat, which she tied around the man's thigh as well as she was able. Her progress was hampered in part by her embarrassment. Because of the location of the injury, her hand kept brushing against the strength of the man's thigh. But she had little time to consider such things.

The man's life was in danger.

There. Done. At least the tourniquet would stop the bleeding for a little while.

She would need to return to the house, throw a work wrapper over her gown, get a knife, some hot water, clean bandages, and blankets.

“Hold on there, Mister Shadow Wolf,” she whispered to him. “Help is on the way.”

With nothing more to be said, she hurried back through the caves to her house.

 

Yellow eyes guided her once again to the man. She accepted that help although she didn't require it. She knew her way.

She had needed to make two trips: one with bandages and blankets, the other with water, alcohol, and herbs.

She had thrown a calico wrap over her gown, and now, leaning over the man, she examined him gingerly. He was well-built and strong, explaining why he was still alive. Though she could not clearly identify him, it didn't matter. She had to attend to his injury, and quickly.

The first thing she had to do, after positioning a blanket under him, was strip off his clothing. Not too difficult a job, since he wore little more than a breechcloth.

However, the wound lay dangerously close to that tiny bit of clothing, causing her to remove the buckskin more cautiously and more slowly than she would have liked, having to actually cut it away in several places.

She resolutely ignored the evidence of his gender as she stripped away his clothing, but not before registering the fact that he was well equipped to please a wife, if he had one. She felt herself blush at the thought, ashamed of herself.

Firmly, she reminded herself that the man's life hung in the balance of her actions…

She moved his leg until the wound was easily accessible and, putting the knife to the flame of her lantern, she brought the hot point within inches of the gash.

“I'm sorry, Mister Wolf Shadow, but I have to do this if I am to save your life. That bullet must come out. This will hurt.”

She thought she saw his eyes flicker for an instant as though he had heard and understood her. Then nothing.

He jerked when she applied the knife to the wound, and she heard a rapid intake of breath. So he wasn't unconscious. Too bad.

“Hold on there, mister.” She brought a soft towel toward him, guiding him to place it between his teeth. “The pain can't be helped. I'm sorry.”

And with little more said, she cut the knife into the wound, slicing and pushing out the bullet with such deftness, one would have thought she'd been born to doctor.

To his credit, the man didn't utter a sound, although she was more than aware of the moment he fainted. Alys thanked God that he was being spared the rest of the pain.

As two yellow eyes watched her from a distance, she placed the bullet to the side, cleaned the wound by pouring alcohol over it, and finished by positioning a poultice of herbs, echinacea, and elderberry upon it.

Next came a compress, which she applied pressure to, until the bleeding subsided. Then she wrapped the area up with soft bandages.

Her breathing coming in short puffs, she spoke to the wolf, who hadn't moved. “I've done all I can,” she explained, as though the wolf sat in judgment. “There's little more to be done now except wash away the sweat and the dirt that clings to him. But that can wait. And I'm exhausted. I promise, however, that I will check his bandages in a few hours.”

Glancing down at the man, she continued, “I hope you don't run a fever, Mister Wolf Shadow. Just the same, I'd better brew a dandelion tea”—she lay her head down on a pillow, which she had placed next to him, her eyelids closing almost at once—“first thing tomorrow.”

 

His groaning awakened her.

She sat up and ran a hand over his forehead. He was burning up.

Quickly, she felt the temperature of the water she had hauled down into the cave. What had once been boiling was now cool. Good.

Tearing off another strip of material from her ruined petticoat, she dipped it into the water. A nice cool bath should bring his temperature down. Of course, she'd have to change the blanket under him once done, but first things first.

Removing his wolf headdress and setting it aside, she brushed cooling water over his face and hair, the black paint coming away and onto the cloth.

“Oh,” she uttered, the sound barely audible. Little by little his features were revealed, his look achingly familiar. To be sure, the boy who had once infatuated her young girl's heart had certainly become a man.

“So, Mister Wolf Shadow,” she spoke to him as though he might hear her, “your secret is at last unmasked. I only wonder if you will remember me and the proposal you once made to a young, impressionable girl. I, for one, have never forgotten it.

“I suspected,” she continued to speak to him, “that it might be you who was terrorizing the merchants of this town when I saw your trail come into the cellar. I covered your tracks, Mister Wolf Shadow, that you might be safe, but I am uncertain if I approve of your use of my caves. It is something we will have to discuss when you awaken. And you will awaken, Mister Wolf Shadow. You will.”

Of course he had known about the caves, she told herself silently. He'd probably explored them in detail by now. She wondered briefly about his sister. Was she a part of the revenge upon the town's merchants?

Somehow she doubted it. The man, or rather the boy
she had known, had carried an air about him, even as a child, which would have tolerated no interference.

She began to wash his face with delicate care, smoothing back his hair, her fingers reaching out to run over his cheeks much as he had once done to her, so long ago. It was as though she were memorizing by touch the look of him.

Oh, how she had weaved dreams around this man, or rather around the boy she had known. She realized that he was probably nothing like her fantasy warrior, and yet wasn't he one of the main reasons why she had yearned to come home? Not that she had really expected to meet up with him again.

Still…

She rinsed her cloth and set it to his neck. He moaned slightly.

“Miistap-aaatoo-t annomce!”

She glanced up quickly toward his face, watching as he shifted his head from side to side. What had he said?

It didn't matter.

The more important issue was, would he live?

Well, he would if she had anything to do with it.

Down each arm, she washed away the dirt and grime. Down his chest, her fingers itched to search at a more leisurely pace those masculine contours. Down further, over his hips, closer and closer to the wound, to that part of him that blatantly declared his masculinity.

Tempting as it was, she ignored it. She had no right to examine this proud man that way.

Down each leg, pulling off his moccasins and washing his feet.

Rinsing her cloth again, she brought it to his face, realizing at the same time that there would be no sleep for her tonight. Not if she were to ensure he remained cool.

Taking his hand in her own, she whispered to him,
“Don't you dare leave me. I have not gone to all this trouble only to lose you. And don't you pretend not to understand English. I remember you well, and know you comprehend what I am saying.”

He muttered something else, but she couldn't make it out.

Dipping the cloth again in water, she washed the sweat from his face, preparing herself for the long night ahead.

 

She changed the water twice, refilling her bucket from the waterfall at the end of the tunnel and trudging it all the way back to the man. There was no alternative. She could not chance going above ground during the daylight hours. She might look suspicious carrying water in and out of her cellar.

Still, he hadn't awakened and his fever hadn't abated.

He had tossed and turned throughout the night, muttering unintelligible words, which she had ignored as best as she could. Instead, she focused on changing the poultice and the bandages, which proved difficult, considering the location of his injury.

Every time she worked over him, she was all too aware of his masculinity. It was impossible to ignore. And though she needed a break, she wouldn't take one. She wouldn't chance something happening to him in her absence.

“Someday, when you're awake, I'm going to tell you about the difficulty I had in working over you. Imagine, a young woman such as myself slaving over a nude man who looks like you do, with an injury so close to his privates.”

She glanced at his face. No reaction.

“What do you think of that, Moon Wolf? Or should I call you Wolf Shadow now? I have heard that Indians change their names when they perform deeds of bravery.
And I would suspect that Wolf Shadow is now a name of distinction.”

She sighed. Shortly, as soon as she was certain that he wouldn't relapse, she would go outside, pick some dandelions, and brew a good, stiff tea. That, too, should help with his fever.

She had checked on her mother last night when she had gone into the house for herbs and bandages and left a brief note. Her mother had been sleeping soundly, her breathing clear. That was good. At least Alys could stay with this stranger with a free conscience.

He moaned, twisting from side to side. She took his hand in her own and patted it before speaking softly to him. “Don't you dare leave me,” she whispered. “I have waited years to be reunited with you, don't let go now.

“Will you remember me? I have never forgotten you, even when I was in school back east. Never a day went by when I wasn't thinking about Montana, about the life I had led here, nor, if I am to be honest, about you. I used to weave dreams around you, did you know that? Not that I expect you to be anything like my imaginings, but you left an impression upon me, Mister Wolf Shadow. An impression I have not been able to escape.”

He quieted, and she continued, “Let me tell you about my illusions, about my knight in shining—or rather Indian—armor.”

His hand tightened around hers. That had to be a good sign.