Rain Shadow (Dutch Country Brides)

by Cheryl St. John

  “Look what else!” Nikolaus ran to a canvas bag under one of the trees and tugged the fabric open. “Turkeys, Pa. Two of’em!”

  She could almost see the color of Anton’s eyes darken to an intense, angry blue. His posture rigid, he knelt and peered into the bag beside his elated son. “Turkeys, huh? Well, what do ya know?”

  “I’m gonna help clean and cook ’on, too. You’re gonna eat with us, aren’t ya?”

  Rain Shadow watched him wrestle with his feelings and disguise his anger for his son’s benefit. “Am I invited?”

  Nikolaus raised an inquiring face to her.

  “Certainly. Everyone is invited.”

  Anton stood. “You shot the grouse yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you learn to do this?”

  “Practice. I’ve been around sharpshooters since I was your son’s age.”

  “She knows Annie Oakley, Pa.”

  “That a fact?”

  She tied her holster thong, tugged the drawstring bag closed and handed it to Nikolaus. “I’d better get back to Slade.”

  Anton fell in step behind her, picking his way across the ground. Resentment flared, glowing hot as he watched his son trot adoringly alongside her, toting the lumpy bag. His jealousy was irrational, but he’d intended to take Nikolaus turkey hunting before she ever came along. Guiltily, he realized it had been weeks since he’d made the promise. If he’d had more time—

  There was never enough time, and that’s probably what made him feel so angry—and helpless. The crops were barely in, and preparations needed to be made for winter. When he had a wife, she could take over some of the tasks, and he’d have more time for his son.

  He should have been the one to take Nikolaus hunting, rather than—inadvertently, he watched the snug seat of her leather pants as she moved silently ahead of him—rather than the gun-toting, curvy...

  He’d been outdone by a woman. No, a mere snip of a girl. Rain Shadow had none of the qualities necessary to snag a husband. She compared unfavorably in all areas to his sisters-in-law—well, almost all areas, he conceded, and wrenched his gaze from her rounded backside. Lydia and Annette dressed demurely, moved with ease and comfort in a kitchen and wouldn’t know the first thing about shooting a turkey.

  When he found a mother for Nikolaus, she for sure wouldn’t be digging his father position out from under him. She wouldn’t be proud or show off her shooting skills.

  From the top of the bank, Nikolaus squealed with delight and hopped up and down. “Pa! Pa! Hurry!”

  Realizing he’d lagged behind, Anton limped toward them, wondering what his son found so thrilling.

  “Look, Pa! It is him, ain’t it, Rain Shadow? It’s Buffalo Bill, Pa! Look!” Nikolaus dropped the bag with the game and raced toward the yard.

  Eight or ten riders approached the house on prancing horses. Ahead of the party, astride a black horse with white socks and blaze, in thigh-high black boots and wide-brimmed sombrero, was, indeed, the famed Buffalo Bill Cody.

  Chapter Three

  Closing the distance to the house, Rain Shadow paused near a rope swing hung from the bough of an ancient oak. A squirrel disturbed from its ruthless gathering scampered into the branches overhead and chattered down at her. Ignoring it, she watched Will and the other riders approach the house. Nikolaus raced past her, intent on reaching the bigger-than-life Buffalo Bill first.

  Anton walked around her, and she shot into step behind him. As they drew near, she observed his expression. He took stock of the horses with their hand-tooled silver and turquoise-studded saddles, as well as the opulently dressed men who rode them. They’re show people, she bit back, as if their finery required explanation or excuses.

  “Princess!” Will caught sight of Rain Shadow and doffed his wide-brimmed hat, waving it in enormous arcs. His magnificent black horse raised its forelegs and stood for impressive minutes on powerful hind legs.

  “Gosh.” Slack-jawed, Nikolaus stared at the extraordinary sight.

  “Will! Hank!” Caught up in the excitement of seeing her extended family, Rain Shadow waved. “Come on, Nikolaus! Let’s greet Will.”

  They covered ground rapidly, Anton at their heels. Will Cody slid from his saddle and swung her up and around in a bearlike embrace. She clung to him, a bittersweet emotion aching in her chest. The show was leaving tomorrow. She was staying behind.

  Will seemed to sense her distress. “How’s Slade?”

  “He’ll be fine, but he can’t be moved for a while yet.” She released him and they strolled arm in arm a few steps from the others.

  “Two Feathers told me,” Will replied, genuine concern in his voice. “That’s why we came out before the train leaves tomorrow.” He smiled his handsome smile, his once-dark mustache and goatee shot with streaks of white. Though from time to time Rain Shadow resented him for not agreeing with her own aspirations in the show, his magnetism and her love for him made it difficult to stay upset.

  She understood his position. He had Annie Oakley. Annie was his big draw, and wisely he played her up. She was the little lady, or as Sitting Bull had dubbed her, Little Sure Shot. Will referred to her as little Missy.

  Rain Shadow was his Princess—his Indian Princess. She drew audiences, too, billed as Princess Blue Cloud. Will preferred that she keep her performance centered on knives, hatchets and bareback stunts on Jack, playing on her uncanny Indian appearance and abilities.

  She’d been cast in this role, and no one would ever see her differently unless she broke loose from the mold. Sometimes she wasn’t certain who she was. Was she white or red on the inside? She was white, but she’d been raised by an Indian in an era when the Indian’s home and culture were rapidly being destroyed. She loved Two Feathers and respected his heritage, but for Slade’s sake she wanted recognition as a white.

  Remembering her manners, she broke away and introduced Anton and Nikolaus to Will, six-foot-five-inch Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys, Johnny Baker and the other well-wishers.

  Hank Tall Bear, dressed in his usual leather vest and fringed pants, grinned like an ornery brother. “Princess, your beauty grows with each setting sun. I will have to offer your father many more horses for you next time.”

  She laughed spontaneously. The brawny-chested Indian was a fellow actor. In the show they enacted a marriage proposal and wedding ceremony, complete with the exchange of goods and ponies, Two Feathers decked out in a father’s headdress and she in white ceremonial garb.

  Johann appeared on the porch, and introductions began again. The entire Neubauer family gathered for the momentous occasion of having the illustrious Will Cody on their property, and Annette ushered everyone into the enormous kitchen. Franz and Annette’s oldest, five- year-old Clara, was in competition with Nikolaus for the seat with the best view of the famed Buffalo Bill.

  Rain Shadow watched Jakob’s pregnant wife, Lydia, a tall, dark-haired beauty, produce biscuits, jams and jellies, and serve them to the guests. Annette made pot after pot of coffee. The two women moved with grace, perfectly at ease in their wifely roles. She tried to imagine herself performing the same task, entertaining company in such a kitchen, but the thought unnerved her. Gingham dresses, starched white aprons and hair arranged in upswept knots caught and held her attention. The two women spoke softly to each other as they effortlessly made the guests welcome. Rain Shadow decided she’d just as soon look a bobcat in the eye than test her own domestic ability.

  The consummate storyteller, Will needed no encouragement to elaborate on stories of his days as a scout, including working for Custer. A famed buffalo hunter, he’d led royalty on glamorous hunts. With the children’s undivided attention, he told how his beloved son, Kit Carson Cody, had been captured by Gypsies. At the tender age of four, he had marked the trail and escaped.

  “Where is Kit?” Nikolaus wanted to know.

  Will did his best to keep his expression from revealing pain. “He caught scarlet fever a year later and died.”


  Having heard the stories dozens of times, Rain Shadow watched the rapt expressions of those listening. Johann’s faded blue eyes misted over with the telling of Kit’s death. Lydia rested her hand on his wrinkled one, and Rain Shadow was intrigued by the interaction between father-in- law and daughter-in-law. Johann gripped Lydia’s fingers gratefully.

  The tale of subchief Yellow Hair snared the family’s attention. DeWitt’s Ten Cent Romances had called the Indian Yellow Hand, which Will assured them was not so. Poor Yellow Hand had died so many times in so many places and in so many different accounts that the truth ran a sorry last for legend material.

  Truth of it was, Cody assured them, eight hundred Sioux and Cheyenne had bolted from their reservation. Will and Hayowei, Yellow Hair, rode face-to-face, surprising one another. Both fired. Will’s bullet went through Yellow Hair’s leg, killing his pinto pony. Yellow Hair’s bullet went wild. Cody’s horse stepped in a prairie dog hole and stumbled.

  “Looked pretty bad for me,” Will said, “but I managed to jump clear. On my knees, I took aim and fired Lucrezia Borgia—that’s my buffalo gun.” Both arms lifted in pantomime, he squinted down the barrel of an imaginary rifle. His enthralled audience held their breath. “Hayowei fired, too, but he missed me. My bullet went clean through his head.”

  “Did ya scalp ’im, Bill?” Nikolaus asked, and Anton looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  “I did,” Will replied. “I sent his scalp, war bonnet, shield, bridle, whip and arms home to St. Louie, and a friend put them in his clothing store window.”

  Annette and Lydia exchanged looks of thinly veiled horror.

  Will quickly changed the subject, relating his days with Texas Jack, Bill Hickok and Sitting Bull. Will Cody was a master showman, whether commandeering hundreds of whites, Indians and animals in a street parade or Wild West performance or just sitting around a campfire or the Neubauers’ kitchen table.

  The morning grew late. Franz and Annette left first with Clara and their sleeping baby, Regan. Jakob and Lydia took their leave next, carrying their two sons, Seth and Titus.

  “Thanks for the hospitality.” Will stood and donned his fringed coat. “I’ll say goodbye to Slade now and we’ll be on our way.”

  An awkward hollowness arose within Rain Shadow while Slade received goodbyes from his friends. Besides her and Two Feathers, these men were her son’s only family.

  “We’ll be watching for you,” Will said, and embraced her shoulders firmly. “Take care of each other. If you need anything, wire me.”

  “I will.” She hugged him back, fighting the thick tears in her throat. He was the closest thing to an uncle or grandfather she’d ever known.

  He brought his gloved knuckles up under her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “Keep your chin up, Princess. I’m going to go ahead with the plans for the exhibition.”

  She blinked at him in gratitude. He understood how important it was she prove herself. “I’ll be there.”

  From the Neubauers’ enormous porch, she waved the party off, an unbearable ache squeezing her heart. She felt herself shrink and diminish as she watched her companions ride off. She was out of her element here with the Neubauers, away from her people and her culture, and she didn’t like the feeling one bit. “I’ll be there,” she whispered with a shiver.

  Two Feathers unfolded a blanket he’d left near the door and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I want to stay with you and Slade, Rain Shadow,” he said.

  “Are you sure?” she asked him. “You can still leave with them tomorrow.”

  “I have no desire to see winter quarters this season. It is peaceful here.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I want to stay and hunt.”

  She laid her hand on his arm briefly before he stepped off the porch and moved silently toward their lodge.

  Deep in thought, she didn’t hear the door open and close behind her.

  “Won’t be long before you can join ’em.”

  Anton’s voice sent a ribbon of sensation spiraling down her spine and through her limbs. She turned and discovered the front of his jacket inches from her face. Were those words meant to comfort her, or was he reassuring himself that her intrusion would be brief? So close was he, she caught the arresting scent of wood smoke in his hair and clothing.

  Stepping away, he settled his Stetson over his shock of hair. “Best tend to chores.”

  He walked toward the barn while anxiety unsettled her. Her conflicting feelings didn’t sit well at all. She was saddened by the departure of her show family, but grateful that Slade was alive and well, and that as soon as his leg healed, they would catch up with the others. This other feeling...this almost delightful uncertainty was the one she couldn’t define. The sentiment clouded her senses whenever Anton Neubauer cast his intense gaze on her... spoke near her ear or stood near enough to envelop her with his arresting male scent. That feeling could only mean trouble.

  After the winter snows melted and the rivers filled their banks, she would take Annie Oakley’s title from her. When that happened, fame would turn up her family. Her resolve strengthened.

  Finding them was all that mattered.

  * * *

  A brisk wind promised winter, shaking the red and gold leaves from the sugar maples. Their stark branches fingered heavenward against a gray sky laden with low-hanging clouds. Johann and Two Feathers removed buckets from the trees and carried than to the house, intent on boiling syrup. Passing them with a wagonload of dead timber, Rain Shadow tugged up the collar of her buckskin coat and waved. Nikolaus ran alongside. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to chop wood.”

  “Can I help?”

  “I’d be happy to have your help. I need to check on Slade first.”

  “Slade’s reading Clara,” Nikolaus informed her.

  “Reading her?”

  “Yup. Reading her about birds.”

  “Oh,” she replied with a grin. Her son loved to read. She’d taught him herself. During her childhood days on the reservation, her education had been less than adequate, books and supplies outdated and in short supply. Teachers were generally young and inexperienced, moving on as soon as possible.

  When she and Two Feathers joined the show, she bought and borrowed books, studying when not practicing. She’d read the classics to Two Feathers by lantern light, huddled next to camp fires across the continent. Speech and education were important if she and Slade were to fit into the whites’ society.

  Nikolaus helped her unload the wagon and put the horses away, then they systematically reduced the tree limbs to manageable chunks. He peered down a slender stick like Buffalo Bill taking aim with Lucrezia Borgia, and she laughed at his antics. Anton called to Nikolaus from the barn.

  “What?” Nikolaus called back.

  “Did you pull those nails out of those boards like I asked you?”

  “I’m helping Rain Shadow, Pa!”

  “That’s not what I asked.” Anton’s long legs swallowed the ground between them in purposeful strides. “You had a chore I set you to this mornin’.”

  “Sorry, Pa. We oughta be done in a hour.”

  “Nikolaus!”

  Nikolaus peered at his father, his wide blue eyes growing wary.

  “I’m sorry,” Rain Shadow said quickly. “I didn’t know he had chores when I said he could help me. I’ll help him with the boards when we’re finished here.”

  Anton turned on her, his frosty blue eyes snapping. “What’re you doing this for, anyway? There’s a whole pile of firewood next to the cabin behind the house.”

  His well-directed words effectively cut through the pleasant mood Nikolaus had helped her achieve. Since the night before, she had tried her best to keep an optimistic outlook. She held his aggravated gaze and wondered why he was so angry with her. “That wood is not mine.”

  “And this is?”

  A spark of anger ignited. “I gathered it. I’m cutting it.”

  “On my land. With my ax. And my son�
��s help.”

  Her emotions reeled. He made it seem as if she were taking advantage of him, though she had no choice. She would not be indebted to this rude man. “I will pay you for the wood, Mr. Neubauer,” she snapped back. “I’ll pay rent on the ax and the land, and wages to your son.”

  Nikolaus’ attention bobbed back and forth between the two adults’ obstinate expressions.

  “Nikolaus, head into the barn.” Anton jerked a thumb and watched his son break into a run before turning back to her. “I don’t want your money,” he scoffed.

  “What do you want?” Not about to be intimidated by his formidable height, she pulled herself up straight and pinned him with an undaunted stare. “I don’t like being here any better than you like having me, but there’s nothing I can do about that now. I guess I have to remind you that you brought Slade here in the first place, and I thanked you for that. Obviously, your concern is for him, and I’m a boil on your backside, but believe me, I try to stay out of your way.”

  He pointed a long finger under her nose. “It’s my son’s way I want you out of. I’m tired of your interference.”

  Interference? She’d thought to do this man a favor by entertaining the boy. Nikolaus’ company had been a blessing to both her and Slade. Obviously, there was no pleasing this man. Her defensive stature relaxed. With obvious disgust, she slapped his finger from under her nose. “I thought I was helping.”

  He snorted. “If you want to help, go in the house and launder the bedding. Do some baking and make us something for supper. Your friends all left this mornin’ and Annette won’t be doing those things now. She has her own family to worry about. Make yourself useful.”

  Aching with inadequacy, Rain Shadow averted her gaze at last. She could probably manage to launder bedding, but she didn’t know the first thing about baking or cooking the Neubauers’ food in their kitchen. All her cooking was done over a fire, in a pit or a clay oven. Unwilling to admit these things to the man before her, she nodded curtly. “I will make myself useful, Mr. Neubauer.”