by Cheri Chaise
“You expect me to watch out for two women? On the trail?” My questions should’ve left no room for argument. “Surely you don’t support such lunacy, brother.”
“Why do you think I got roped into going too?” he asked, leading the wagon team past me.
Great. The fact that nearly half the household had slid past me didn’t sit well. Yeah, I might’ve been tired after so little sleep lately, but to have slept through one person, much less three, sneaking out the front door without my hearing?
Yeah, I wasn’t gonna live this one down for a hell of a long time. Usually it was me sneaking up on everyone else.
An ability I was damn proud of – until it was turned around against me.
“What about when we reach the reservation?”
“That’s why he’s coming too.”
Cole didn’t even bother turning around, just pointed off toward the bunkhouse where the Carston cousins were still getting dressed as they sauntered across the way.
“Which one?” I called out.
Cole stopped with a hard stare over his shoulder. “I thought I told you to figure out who was going and who was staying.”
“You did,” Sean returned, his scar on display before he dragging his shirt over his head as they both loped my way.
“Then why the hell am I seeing double?”
“Because we couldn’t decide,” Seth said with a grin, as if that explained everything. “So figured it wouldn’t hurt if we both tagged along.”
Apparently it did.
“Fuck it all,” Cole grumbled. “Be quick about it then and saddle your damn horses.”
This was not going to go well. Not going to go well at all. But I just rolled my eyes heavenward and headed back toward the stables without another word.
Not like it would do me any good anyway.
“Hey Bret,” Cole called to me. “Would you saddle Buck for me while I hitch the team?”
He was gonna wear that horse out before his time. They’d only just returned from the hay run, and already he was planning on hitting the trail with the buckskin again.
In all likelihood, that horse needed completely reshod, and I wasn’t about to let any harm come to Buck – or my brother.
But one look in the tack room and worries over who rode what horse seemed less important. Leads and harnesses were strewn about the floor. The saddle Evan and I had made for Essie last Christmas wasn’t where I’d placed it after our huckleberry picking jaunt.
My brothers and I were always careful about cleaning and hanging our tack. Kept this room in careful order. All the hands who worked our ranch also knew to put things away in their proper place. That left those damn cousins.
“Hey,” I called out to Seth and Sean. “Get over here, you fuckers.” My usual calm was rapidly ending up in short supply as they scampered over. “Did you two do this?”
Both sets of eyes widened in mock surprise, but Sean was the first to speak up. “No sir, cousin. We’ve been keeping our tack in the stalls.”
“You know,” Seth said, pushing his darker hat higher on his head. “So’s we could get saddled up quicker.”
A likely story, though they hadn’t had time to create this kind of a mess in the short window before I’d entered the stables behind them. Had our egg thief progressed to stealing more valuable resources now?
I didn’t have time to deal with this right now. “When we get back, I expect both of you to clean and polish every single bridle, lead, stirrup and saddle in here and hang it up exactly where it belongs so we can take an inventory.”
“Inventory?” Seth asked.
“We’ll count every piece in here to make sure nothing is missing.”
Sean shared a look with his twin I immediately found highly suspicious. “Yeah…alrighty then. Just as long as the countin’ doesn’t get too high.”
“We’re not so good with numbers,” Seth finished.
Or anything else it seemed. Okay, that wasn’t quite fair. They’d done a decent job around here so far. My brothers even said they’d proven more than helpful on the hay haul.
I sighed. “Get finished saddling your horses and get ready to leave.”
I picked through the tack to gather what I needed. At least my saddle hadn’t gone missing.
I glanced over at Essie’s mare as I tightened the strap around the Black Prince’s girth, then checked the saddlebags I’d packed the day before with salves and supplies that neither the shaman nor the tribe’s medicine man used.
Nightmare had had little time on the trails of late, the trip to the huckleberry bushes two weeks ago now the last time she’d been out. The mare could use a few days on the open prairie to stretch her legs before winter set in, and I prepared her for another breeding.
Though Cole was a sight more of a load to carry than our petite Essie, Nightmare wouldn’t balk long once she was given some free rein.
I finished up with the Black Prince and readied Nightmare with Cole’s well-worn saddle, disregarding my brother’s wishes. Cole had the team all hitched up and the wagon in the yard prepared to leave by the time I led our mounts from the stables.
“Where’s Buck?”
“He needs reshod,” I responded simply.
Cole took Nightmare’s reins. “I’m a hell’a a lot more weight than she’s used to.”
“She’ll adjust…as will you.”
My brother offered up a hiked brow in silent challenge.
“If you want to bury your horse before his time, then you can dig the hole,” I said, mounting the stallion and taking the lead. “Just don’t expect me to help dig yours.”
Essie called out from where she and Abby perched high atop the wagon. “Nightmare will probably enjoy a good run, husband.”
Cole just growled and grumbled as he shoved his boot into the stirrup and hiked his leg over the saddle. Nightmare pranced and pawed the ground before Cole’s expert horsemanship had her in line with the rest of us.
It didn’t take long before we had a good pace going. I worried about Essie handling the team by herself, as no one could expect Abby to provide any help should the horses get away from them.
Apparently Cole had the same concerns, as he set pace with Nightmare alongside the team and directed Seth and Sean to do so on the other side. If anything startled the horses at that point, we were all in a position to snag the harness to bring them back into line.
I continued on ahead, scouting out the trail while lost in my own thoughts as the sun began its ascent above the horizon.
For the life of me, I couldn’t fathom why Abby had come along. By now, Essie was used to a few days at a time under the Montana sky, her skin alive with a kiss of color she hadn’t possessed in those early days. She tolerated a few nights sleeping on the hard ground on trips to the reservation, which seemed to invigorate her more than exhaust her these days – and energized our lovemaking. I loved nothing better than watching my wife in the glow of the campfire as she rode my cock.
Just like she’d done the other night in the lamplight – until our fight had driven us farther apart.
But Abby? A few days in the back of a covered wagon had more than done her in on the short trip from the railroad depot. How would she handle the hard ground? Waking up under a sheen of cold dew?
More importantly, how would she view life on the reservation? The few remaining members of my family on that side?
Sure, she’d appeared accepting upon our first meeting. Had even greeted me warmly – or more so than Mrs. Barker.
But none of that explained why she’d decided to tag along.
After drawing so far ahead, all buried in my thoughts and concerns, I pulled up to wait for the wagon to catch up to keep them closer. The best way to learn the answers to my questions was to listen in on the chatter of the two sisters.
And chatter away they did as the sun illuminated the landscape.
“Stunning…absolutely stunning.” Abby sounded almost breathless. “Those trees are awash with s
uch vibrant color.”
“You should see it in the spring,” Essie commented. “The prairie is brown one day, and then you blink and it bursts with a broad color palate of wildflowers.”
“Like the stroke of a brush.”
“When we return, you should set up your easel and paint that copse over there.”
“Or...” Abby put a hand to her brow to shield her eyes as she stared off toward the bluff on the far side of the river opposite the nearing huckleberry patch. The patch where Essie and I had last expressed our love so openly. “Is that a waterfall?”
Essie followed suit with a squint. “A small one. Just wait until you see the waterfall closer to the reservation tomorrow. It’s truly stunning.”
“Wait…I see something else over there.” Abby leaned way over the front of the wagon until I feared she’d tumble off if Essie ran over a large rock. “Something’s moving.”
“Besides the water?” Sean called, getting a chuckle out of his brother.
“Whoa,” I called to the team, grabbing hold of the harnesses before Abby lost her balance.
“Why’re we stopping?” Cole asked, reaching for his canteen as he came alongside.
“There’s something over there.” Abby was standing now. “Yes, it looks like an animal…a…a wolf perhaps?”
Cole was immediately on the alert, drawing and cocking his pistol before he even knew where to aim the thing. The cock of pistols sounded in tandem off on the other side of the wagon as Seth and Sean followed my brother’s lead. The horses pranced and pawed at the ground as if sensing the nervous tension that surrounded us.
They were all ready to shoot first and ask questions later. Not that I didn’t understand Cole’s hatred of wolves. Especially considering the pack responsible for the death of our first wife. And his son.
Wolves were dangerous creatures when cornered or on the hunt – and they always traveled in packs.
So a lone one out here would’ve been a true mystery.
I held up a hand. “Relax, boys. It’s not a wolf.”
“Are you sure?” Essie asked. At least she had the good sense not to stand up in a hitched wagon.
“Too small for a wolf.” I squinted to get a good look at the beast as it raised its head from the water to survey us in return. “Looks like a dog to me.”
“A dog?” Abby responded in surprise. “How did a domesticated animal find its way out here? And all alone?”
“Lost. Abandoned,” Cole grumbled, tucking his gun away as if sorry he hadn’t gotten to use it.
“Oh, that’s terrible. We should go over and make sure it’s alright.”
“Wild dog packs have been known to roam up in the mountains too,” Seth said. “You wouldn’t want to get bit by a rabid one now, would you, Miss Abby?”
She sat down as we got underway again. “I imagine not.”
Essie snapped the reins. “You can’t look at animals the same out here as in the city, Abby.”
Like so many things.
“He would’ve been a stunning image to add to my collection.” Abby sighed. “I just wish I’d brought more than my charcoal with me.”
One of the twins laughed outright. “Why would you bring charcoal with you? Wood is for campfires, and there’s little use for what’s left over except to make soap.”
“It’s not for the fire. It’s for drawing purposes,” Abby patiently stated. “I hope to draw some simple portraits of the natives.”
“You can draw with charcoal?”
“Of course. It is an excellent medium for smudging in order to shade and define the smooth planes and crevices found on each face.”
“There’s still no need for you to have brought any,” the other cousin snorted. “We’ll have more than enough left over in the campfire come morning.”
Essie’s laugh tinkled through the air like stars falling from the sky – and went straight to my cock.
“It’s not that kind of charcoal,” our wife stated.
Cole’s wife, I reminded myself.
“Though there were cave paintings of bison discovered several years ago in Spain,” Abby informed the group. “It is speculated the medium used there was likely a very basic form of charcoal from fires, so such an assumption isn’t out of the question, Seth.”
“I’m Sean.”
“Oh. I beg your pardon.”
“Happens all the time,” he replied good-naturedly. “Even our Pa got it wrong sometimes.”
“The only real way he could tell us apart for sure was Sean’s scar.”
“A scar?”
“Yeah. It’s down my right side.” Sean fidgeted in the saddle to pull aside his duster and started to tug at his shirt. “Wanna see?”
Abby’s brown eyes widened like dinner plates and color rose high into her cheeks before Cole’s bark stopped Sean’s progress.
“Keep your shirt on, boy.”
“But it’s just right…”
“The shirt stays on!”
Sean immediately stopped unbuttoning. “Wasn’t like I was getting naked or anything.”
“No one’s getting naked out here,” Cole snapped again. “And they’ll be no more such talk. Not with ladies present.”
The matter was yet to be settled, especially with the looks Essie and her sister shared. Lips were pressed tightly together. The gleam of mirth shown in their eyes.
It was but a few short turns of the wheels before titters began. Then shoulders quivered. Finally the laughter could no longer be contained – and spread through us all.
Nope, the subject of nakedness definitely wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
If only it were just talk the next time.
Chapter Nineteen
Estella
The following day had waned by the time we arrived at the reservation. Visiting Bret’s distant relations was always a rather interesting affair. While it came with certain joys at seeing those who had become dear to me in the ensuing years, our visits were always tinged with a sorrow that clung to me long after our brief stay.
It wasn’t only for the illnesses to which so many of the residents succumbed, but more for seeing this once noble and fierce nomadic people trapped in one place. Unable to roam freely to hunt in their ancestral lands. Forced into submitting to laws of which they had little to no input.
Since learning how the reservation system worked, I’d many times lain awake at night in the arms of my husbands, wondering if the cavalry would show up one day to drag Bret and our children off to live with their kin. I prayed such a day would never come in mine or any of their lifetimes.
But it was a nagging concern that constantly weighed on my mind.
The one thing that brought comfort were the trips I made with Bret to bring supplies and sundry items to see our friends through the long winter months. Of course, the tribe was too proud to simply take handouts but would instead trade. Sometimes for things, Bret informed me later, were highly prized items I then felt guilty of accepting.
But the greatest comfort was seeing all the children unleashed and racing to greet us when our wagon came up over the rise. Bret and Cole swung down from their mounts and handed off their reins to one of the twins before gathering up as many young ones as could cling to them.
I so loved that no matter what community or culture, children were still the most constant and purest expression of love and acceptance on this earth.
“They are exuberant, are they not?”
Abby’s observation sounded almost wistful, but I still noted the fear of the unknown in her pinched expression the closer to the reservation we’d traveled. Surprisingly she’d weathered the trip rather well these few days, seeming to enjoy the evening around the campfire last night as the twins shared raucous, and rather titillating at times, stories of their mining efforts in the mountain region farther west.
“Most all children get rather excited to see familiar faces,” I replied knowingly.
She glanced around nervously at the more mature an
d harder countenances as I drove the wagon deeper into the camp where they were preparing supper. Deer or elk turned on a spit, popping and sizzling over the large open fire pit. Flies and gnats buzzed around in abundance.
Abby’s voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in closer. “Are we expected to…to eat that?”
“It would be an affront not to join in a meal together,” I returned in kind.
“But it’s out here.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “In the open.”
“How is that any different from the fish and rabbit we cooked over our campfire last night?”
She had no reply. Only a desperate stare.
“Just take a small portion when offered then nibble and chew slowly,” I instructed. “We’ve got plenty of biscuits in the wagon if you’re still hungry before we bed down tonight.”
This time she nodded with a sigh as I brought the wagon rolling to a stop. We’d barely been helped down by the twins before the wagon was swarming with tribesmen.
Abby quickly came around and clung to my side as crates were opened, their lids tossed aside on a quest to explore the jars and jugs within. “What are they doing?”
I kept my sister close as we backed away from the throng. Bret and Cole came striding up, children dripping from their strong, muscled arms that bulged and strained beneath their sleeves. The tribesmen called out to Bret in their native tongue as they held up various goods.
“Deciding what they want.”
“What they want?” Abby whispered furiously. “They’re stealing right in front of you.”
“No.” My dander rose a bit at the accusation until I reminded myself that this was all new for her. “They’re negotiating.”
“Negotiating?”
“Setting the parameters to trade their goods for ours.”
Her nose wrinkled. “What do these people possess that would be considered of value?”
My sister cast a furtive glance over both of her shoulders then huddled deeper into me when a tall and dark brave along the periphery stared back. His hair flowed long over his bare shoulders and fanned out over his sinewy chest embellished only with a string consisting of beads, feathers, and bone.
