Bewitching Bret

by Cheri Chaise

  “No…it isn’t.” Her voice was thin, a bare whisper before a cough punctuated the confines.

  My head turned at the sound, but the boy only had the one in him. His breathing was still ragged and rattling as I felt the cooling poultice.

  “Go ahead and change this out for another one,” I instructed Essie.

  With deft hands she did just that, sprinkling a few fresh herbs over the mess in the pan to heat and release a refreshed aroma, then spooned the contents into pieces of her petticoat. I could always count on my wife. My sweet and loving wife.

  No, I couldn’t think of her like that. Not now. Not here. Not with her sister staring our way so curiously as my thoughts threatened to get lost in Essie again.

  Time melted away as the long night progressed. Intermittent coughing filled the air, though with all of our noses running at that point, it was difficult to determine who made what noise if I wasn’t right next to the boy.

  He even cried a time or two, seeming to come around from the fog of fever. Though he appeared to breathe somewhat better each time I checked on him, I still wasn’t getting the results I wanted – the stringy, nasty, and choking ejection of all that phlegm gumming up the works.

  “Here,” I said to Little Red Fox, handing her a steaming cup of steeped peppermint with a pinch of clove. “See if you can get him to take a few sips.”

  I left my cousin to it and checked the supplies in my saddlebag. I was already running low on the dried peppermint leaves I’d brought along, and the dried clove was a precious commodity I couldn’t just pick up at a general store – unless I wanted to swim to the Asian continent.

  “We need more wrappings,” Essie said as she laid the newest pouch in my hand with reddened and blistered fingers. “And I’m running out of underskirting.”

  Abby met my stare the moment I glanced up. She was haggard, sweaty, and drooping with fatigue like the rest of us.

  Until her already thin lips firmed into a hard line. Without a word, she set aside the onion she’d been peeling and reached under her skirt. With a noticeable shredding noise, she stabbed the knife into her petticoat to peel off a section that ended with a satisfying rip.

  She then merely handed over the long strip and then returned to her task as I fought to overcome my stunned silence. Abby offered no comment or commentary. No question. No complaint or cry.

  Perhaps I’d misjudged this pampered lady. By all appearances at present, maybe she was a little more like her sister than I’d given her credit for.

  And if she planned to make Montana her home as she’d revealed to Essie, it was nothing short of a good thing that she proved adaptable to our situation out here.

  A very good thing indeed.

  Maybe Seth and Sean had proven the wiser, seeing something in the object of their affections that I’d missed completely.

  But my money was on that they were simply hoping for a fuck.

  Good or otherwise.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Estella

  The warmth cocooned me in its embrace. Awareness gradually crept upon me – until remembrance and realization thrust sleep aside and startled me upright among a pile of furs.

  Little Red Fox. Her son. Illness.

  The stickiness of sweat pasted loosened tendrils of hair across my face. The fog of steam and the haze of heady scents had faded somewhat as I quickly took in the surroundings inside the teepee.

  Bret leaned against a basket, his eyes at half mast, and placed a finger across his lips to shush me before I could voice the questions that bombarded my mind. His exhausted but satisfied smile was the only assurance I needed.

  Near his feet, Little Red Fox gently cradled her son to her bosom. The rattling in his lungs as he fought for breath had eased. He appeared to sleep peacefully, his sweet lips open and eyes closed as mother and son nestled in serene repose.

  Silently Bret crawled across the floor to settle beside me and wrapped me in his comforting embrace as he nuzzled the tender and responsive flesh of my neck. He smelled just as I probably did. Of peppermint and spice with a hint of sweet onion that had imbedded deep into his pores.

  “His fever broke not too long after that coughing bout that brought everything up,” Bret whispered.

  “Hmm.” I burrowed deeper into his cozy shoulder to block out the renewed images of green and pink sputum and vomit streaming from that poor little one’s lips. “He’s on the mend then?”

  The mother stirred, her fingers tightening instinctively around the bundled child on her chest. Bret raised his head to survey the situation until she relaxed once again.

  “Plenty of rest and lots of fluids to replenish what we sweated out of him, but I believe he’ll be fine.”

  The moment his dark eyes locked onto mine, the heat between us bloomed – and had nothing to do with the steam the high fire had created through the night between the thin teepee walls. My belly quivered with desire as his lips slid over mine, and his hand warmed against my needy breast.

  I wanted nothing more than to feel his hand slip beneath my shirtwaist to pluck and tease my nipples. To feel his hardness slide between my thighs as he took us to heavenly heights.

  Instead I traced a finger tenderly along the dark skin of my husband’s smooth cheek. “You’re a good man, Bret Carston.” My voice was husky to my ears. “A good father…and the best husband.”

  Eyes pinched and narrowed slightly as if in pain. It was then that I came to myself.

  Abby

  Bret didn’t even try to cling to me when I jerked away to sweep the room, searching for my sister. If she’d seen us – heard my tender words of love – there was nothing I could say to logically explain things to her satisfaction. Not after so blatant a display.

  Slices of uncooked onion lay shriveled and drying near the fire pit. The pile of disturbed furs where I’d last seen her were empty.

  I stood. “Where’s Abby?”

  “She stepped out not too long ago.”

  “And you let her go alone?”

  “Shhh.” He stood up beside me, but it was too late. I’d shamefully disturbed Little Red Fox’s rest, who offered up a knowing grin before curling away onto her side as if to give us privacy. “The others are camped right outside and saw her leave.”

  I did my best to right myself as well as possible, tugging the strands from my cheeks and smoothing them back to tuck in with the others around my messy bun. “Still, she might’ve snuck away farther than they noticed.”

  A lady did have to take care of necessary ablutions of a morning – but I was fearful of what might happen if Cole or the others were left unawares.

  “Trust me,” Bret said, following me to open the flap to the cool morning air. “Even if Cole let her out of his sight for one second around here, the twins surely won’t.”

  I stopped on the other side of the open entrance. “What does that mean?”

  The only response was the skin flap dropping into place.

  Cole was seated across the way near the center of the camp, gesturing with his hands as he tried to talk to one of the tribe elders in his limited capacity with the language. But he grew aware of me almost from the moment I stepped from the teepee and thus excused himself.

  His firm chest was the comfort I needed after a rather sleepless night. With redness rimming his eyes, Cole appeared as if he hadn’t slept much either.

  “How’s the boy?” he murmured against my forehead.

  “Resting peacefully.” I sighed, releasing the tense concern I hadn’t realized I’d carried. “Bret says he’ll be alright now that the fever has broken.”

  “Good to hear.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. “I just can’t imagine what Little Red Fox must’ve been going through. The possibility of losing a son…I don’t think I’d ever recover.”

  His arms tightened just a little more than necessary at my words. How careless of me to prompt memories of his own painful past. But he didn’t admonish me for the reminder of their first wif
e and his infant son lost all those years before.

  “Now then…none of that,” he soothed with another kiss on top of my messy mop. “Everything is okay, so you can stop worrying.”

  I pulled away to look up into his calming green eyes as I touched his cheek by way of a silent apology passed between us. “Have you seen Abby?”

  “She was headed toward the overlook a few minutes ago.” A jerk of his chin toward the bluffs. “The cousins followed to keep an eye out for her.”

  “You trust them enough now to do just that?” I asked dubiously. “And only that?”

  A chuckle rumbled through Cole’s chest. “Spent enough time with them over the past week to know they wouldn’t dare cross me…or our family.” He nestled his chin on top of my head. “I think they actually are serious about making amends and giving ranching a go this time.”

  “Well, I’d better go check on her all the same.”

  I dashed at the tears too close to the surface then stood on tiptoe to offer up a kiss of appreciation before moseying between teepees and away from the camp. The tribe knew me well, and I had no fear of being accosted or dragged away to another man’s tent by walking alone.

  Until stirring in the trees revealed the unfamiliar brave from the night before. The one who had tried to negotiate for Abby’s hand.

  And who had obviously been watching her.

  Our stares connected for just a moment before I picked up my pace, continuing on as I called out. “Abby?”

  “Over here.”

  Her tone sounded dulled, but I breathed a sigh of relief as the stranger dashed off toward the camp. Brushing through the branches and tromping through old nettles opened up to a spectacular vista.

  Enormous rocks jutted out from the cliff face at the top of the bluff. Abby sat near the edge on a boulder, wreathed in the light of the morning sun as she stared out over the valley below. Her sketchbook lay fluttering on her lap and the small case of charcoals sat beside her. Untouched.

  Disheveled hair blew in wisps as the breeze rushed up and swirled around her before moving into the trees behind me. It intermittently lifted the edges of her skirts, revealing the ragged rips she’d cut from it to help with the poultices throughout the night.

  I momentarily burned with anger when Seth and Sean were not apparent – until I caught the toe of a boot jutting out from the trees farther down the bluff.

  “It’s best not to sit so close to the edge,” I cautioned, coming up beside her to see a blank page. “A strong gust could pick you up and toss you right over the side if you’re not careful.”

  Abby wrapped her shawl tighter around her tiny frame as she glanced up at me as if noticing me for the first time. Her eyes were tight with fatigue. Cheeks glistened in the sunlight. Wet with tears.

  “Perhaps that would be for the best,” she whispered.

  My stomach dropped in shock to hear such words pass her lips. “What is all this then?” I asked, sitting down beside her to cradle her dampened cheeks between my palms and swiped the tears away with my thumbs.

  “What good am I?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Why am I here?” she cried out before wrenching her face from my hands and turning away.

  “Why…why because you’re my dear sister, that’s why. My home is your home.”

  “No.” She shook her head, curls falling across her shoulders in unruly waves. “What purpose does my being on this earth serve? What can I do? I’m a poor excuse for a wife. I can’t cook. I can’t sew. I’ve never washed a plate or platter in all my life. Or swept a floor. Or…I…I…”

  She stared at her hands then broke down in wracking sobs – and broke my heart in the process. I wrapped my arms around her quaking shoulders and laid my now wet cheek against her head as she drowned my shoulder in her tears.

  Surely this was not from the teasing over her floured dress before we’d left the homestead. Or her frailty when a headache came on. Exhaustion did strange things to the mind and heart. Was she simply overwrought by the sick child?

  The best way to find out was to wait out the sobs until she calmed. Several moments passed before she descended into soft whimpers and sniffles.

  I stroked her hair just as I did my children over a stubbed toe or splintered finger. But this was no mere childhood injury. This was an awakening of awareness I knew only too well from my early days on the prairie.

  “I barely knew such things when I first arrived out here, Abby. Between Edna and me, you’ll learn how to do all those things in time. That is, if you truly wish to stay.”

  A deep shuddering sigh, but her head remained right where it was. Her voice so tiny I barely heard it in the wind.

  “Last night…that dear little boy.”

  “Shhh,” I hushed. “We saved him. Bret said his fever broke. He’s going to be just fine.”

  She finally lifted her chin, tugging a well-used hanky from her sleeve to dab at puffy and reddened eyes. The action was more like our old housekeeper than the influence of our mother, which made me smile inwardly.

  “But I felt so…so useless.”

  “Useless? I was there, Abby. You cut, sliced, and chopped up those onions no matter how much your eyes were streaming.” I tugged her bandaged hand up between us and offered up a smile. “And no matter how much the cut on your finger burned from the juices.”

  She only sniffled in response at my attempt at levity.

  I grabbed at a pleat in the skirt I’d taken in for her. “You even sacrificed your new petticoat to help that sweet little Indian child.”

  Which was more than Edna would’ve been willing to do, I’m sure. Though if anything could touch Edna’s soul when it came to her prejudice, it would be a child – savage or otherwise.

  But no amount of teasing brought even a twitch from Abby’s lips. Not a hint of a smile. My words only served to downturn that mouth even further.

  “That look...”

  I prodded when she drifted back into silence. “What look?”

  “On his face.”

  “Whose face?”

  “Bret’s.” She finally looked at me this time – with haunted eyes. “He saw me as so utterly worthless. Useless when I didn’t know what to do.”

  “He doesn’t see you that way,” I tried to reassure. “Bret just gets very…tense. Focused when treating a patient.”

  “He seemed quite put out and rather angry with how ignorant I acted. I didn’t even know how to use a knife until last night.”

  I found it quite interesting that in such a brief acquaintance my sister had picked up on Bret’s anger and frustration. He was usually so careful about keeping in everything he felt – especially the anger that seemed to constantly simmer beneath his dusky surface.

  “Bret can get a bit short when a life is on the line. Particularly when that life is a child’s.”

  Understanding dawned like the sunlight splashed across her face. “Do you think the loss of his nephew all those years ago is the root cause of his tension?”

  I’d once shared with my sister about the tragic death of Cole’s only son with Sky, their first wife, though I’d not gone into any detail. Truth be told, I’d not wanted to know anything more after Cole confessed their deaths as a result of a wolf attack.

  And I certainly wasn’t going to share with my sister the depths of the pain that still marred all of the Carston men’s minds. Influenced their actions even to this day, whether they realized it or not. “They were all deeply impacted by that tragedy.”

  She nodded before struggling to stand up then lowering her chin to toe at a rock as she mumbled. “Seeing how close you all are as a family now, I imagine that’s something they’ll eventually be able to put behind them.”

  I highly doubted that. The way they held onto their pain and fear after all these years was something they’d probably never shake off for good no matter how many children I laid into their arms.

  The older brothers hadn’t yet been able to share the details with m
e of whatever had happened to Drew either, but the effects were still palpable each time they dealt with their youngest sibling. In some ways, I’d always be an outsider.

  Just like my sister. But as long as Abby remained blissfully unaware of how truly close I was with my men, I wasn’t about to belabor the subject.

  I stood beside her, draped my arm over her shoulders and squeezed. “You’ll always be my family too, Abby. Whether you return back east or decide to stay here for good.”

  Her smile was tired, but I was happy to see that my words brought her a semblance of comfort and security. As long as I lived, she’d never be truly alone. She picked up her supplies, and arm-in-arm we began making our way back toward camp.

  “So what if I truly do decide to make Montana my home? How will I survive?”

  “You’ll do just what I did.”

  She waited for me to continue for a half a beat. “And that is?”

  I stared into her soft brown eyes. So eager. So ready. “You’ll learn.” Her stomach rumbled in a most unladylike manner. “Starting with breakfast.”

  Her pert little nose wrinkled. “I’m so hungry, I could eat just about anything. But please tell me it won’t be a communal meal again.”

  “The tribe are all well-past their morning mealtime,” I assured. “Come on, and I’ll teach you how to make breakfast over Little Red Fox’s fire.”

  Abby grimaced. “As long as it doesn’t have onions.”

  We were laughing by the time we arrived at camp. I didn’t even have to glance over my shoulder to know that Seth and Sean followed in our wake.

  As did the tall brave.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bret

  After a sleepless night and with so many others to see to during our brief stay, I only managed to grab a catnap before the invitation arrived that evening for Cole and me to join Chief Killing Bear and the tribal elders.

  The warmth inside the large ceremonial wigwam, combined with the heady smoke from the shared pipe, had my eyes drooping within minutes. It took a nudge from my brother on my right and my uncle on my left to avoid falling forward into the fire pit.