Redwing's Lady

by Stella Bagwell

  “The other brother ignored the bear and went on with his hunting, but his brother stayed and continued to watch. The bear taught the young brave to do the same dance and to sing the song. He told him to return to his people and to teach them the dance and songs of the bear so that they could show their respect for the bear spirit.”

  Aaron straightened away from Daniel’s knee. “And if you respect the bear it makes you strong,” Aaron said, repeating what Daniel had told him earlier in the day.

  Daniel was surprised that the boy had remembered his comment about the bear spirit, and it struck him that he needed to be careful about everything he said to Aaron. The child was at a very impressionable age and obviously had a bit of hero worship for him. Perhaps because he was a deputy, Daniel thought. Or maybe it was simply because he was a man and could teach him about grown-up things.

  “Right,” Daniel told him.

  “Is that all there is to the celebration?” Maggie asked. “Dancing and singing?”

  Daniel looked at her beautiful face in the firelight, and his heart went as soft as one of Aaron’s melted marshmallows. She was like a white princess who’d chosen to travel into the wilderness with an Indian brave. The fanciful idea swelled his heart like nothing ever had, and he realized after this time spent with her, it was going to be very difficult to put her out of his life.

  “No. Not at all. At the bear dance celebration there is all sorts of food to eat and everyone visits and swaps stories. And there is a special custom on the final day of the festivities. The men and women wear a feather into the corral, and when they leave at the end of the day, they leave the feather on a cedar tree, which will always be located at the east entrance of the corral.”

  “What does that do?” Aaron spoke up before Maggie had a chance.

  Daniel gave the boy a brief smile, then cut his eyes toward Maggie. “Leaving the feather behind on the tree means that you’re leaving your troubles behind you and starting your life anew.”

  Maggie sighed. “That’s so beautiful, Daniel.”

  Daniel reached over and took her by the hand. “Sometimes we all need to do that, Maggie. Are you ready to leave your feather on the cedar tree?”

  Sweet, painful emotions clogged her throat as she looked at him and tried to figure the real meaning of his question. Was he asking her to forget all the pain she’d endured over Hugh and start her life over with him?

  Shaken by the thought, Maggie’s gaze slipped to the dark ground as she pulled her hand from his.

  After a moment she said in a husky voice. “I wish things were that simple.”

  “So do I,” she heard him murmur.

  The three of them remained by the campfire for another half hour and by then Aaron’s chin kept hitting his chest as the boy struggled to stay awake. Maggie didn’t have the heart to tell him to go to the tent and get in bed. Instead she waited until he’d fallen completely asleep before she rose from her chair.

  “I think Aaron is down for the count. I’d better get him in bed before he catches cold,” she told Daniel.

  She was bending down to gather her son into her arms when she felt Daniel’s hand on her shoulder.

  “He’s too heavy for you,” he said as he urged her to one side. “Let me do it.”

  Aaron was a solidly built boy, so Maggie was relieved to step aside and turn the task over to Daniel. He lifted the child’s weight effortlessly into his arms and carried him over to the two domed tents they had erected earlier in the day. The shelters were positioned about ten feet away from the fire and some five feet away from each other. At Maggie’s tent Daniel waited while she unzipped the flap.

  Inside the cozy room, Daniel placed the sleeping boy on one of the inflated mattresses. “Are you going to undress him?” he asked quietly.

  Maggie shook her head. “I’ll just take his shoes and jeans off. He’ll be warm enough under the covers.”

  Along with Daniel’s blankets, she’d brought a few of her own just in case they might be needed. Since the night was very cool, she fetched a couple of them from a duffle bag.

  After hastily removing Aaron’s shoes and jeans, she covered him with several blankets and tucked them carefully around him. Once she was finished, she glanced up to see Daniel watching her closely, and like before when he’d talked about his father, his expression was a closed enigma.

  “Aaron is very lucky that his mother loves him so much,” he whispered.

  His unexpected comment caused her throat to thicken with emotion. Her voice was husky as she said, “No. I am the lucky one to have a son.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, and after a moment he gave Aaron one last glance and slipped from the tent. Maggie quickly followed.

  Outside the tent, the night had grown darker, the stars brighter. A cool breeze was blowing off the lake. Maggie rubbed her arms as she went to stand with her back to the fire.

  Daniel tagged along behind her and for a long time the two of them simply stood there together, quietly absorbing the night. For several miles in any direction there wasn’t another human. Maggie doubted very many regular folks ever ventured back this far into the wilderness. The way was arduous and most people didn’t like to rough it to this extent.

  “Sorry you came?” he asked.

  His voice surprised her and her head jerked around toward his. “Why, no. Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “Just wondered. I, uh, haven’t known any women who would do this sort of thing. You surprise me, Maggie Ketchum.”

  He was complimenting her again, and his words flowed through her like a drink of warm, pleasing wine. “This isn’t a hardship, Daniel. I love the outdoors. When I was a small girl I spent my days outside with my horses.”

  His brow lifted slightly. “Where was this?”

  “Denver. My dad was in real estate, in a big way. My parents were—”

  “Rich,” he finished before she could.

  Maggie’s face warmed at the word. She didn’t want him to get the idea that she’d ever been a snob. As far as she was concerned she’d never been interested in money. True, she’d married into a wealthy family, but she hadn’t needed or wanted Hugh’s money. And even now she lived modestly in the same small ranch house she’d shared with him.

  “Well, my parents never wanted for money. Thanks to my father’s hard work.”

  “Aaron said his grandfathers are dead. I was acquainted with Tucker. What happened to your father?”

  Maggie’s expression was suddenly regretful. “I don’t know, really. Too much work and mental stress, I suppose. He was in his late fifties when his heart gave out.”

  “That’s too bad. It would have been much better for you to still have him around than the money he provided.”

  Dear God, how absolutely right this man was, she thought.

  “That’s very true, Daniel. I miss him deeply. And the irony of it now is that—” She paused and shook her head. “I shouldn’t be saying any of this—”

  “This what?” he urged. “Why shouldn’t you be saying it? There’s no one here but the two of us. And I don’t repeat what I’ve been told in confidence.”

  “I’m not worried about you repeating anything. I just shouldn’t be talking about my family in—such a way.” Her lips twisted to a bitter slant. “But like you said, who would ever know. Certainly not my mother. It’s a rare occasion when I hear from her.”

  Daniel appeared very surprised over this admission, and he peered at her closely. “You don’t get along with your mother?”

  Maggie shook her head. “I’m afraid not. She—well, even when I was a child, we never got along. I think she always resented the fact that my father and I were so close.” She glanced up at him, and for a moment a brief smile erased the line in the middle of her forehead. “My father and I shared the same deep love of horses, and by the time I was thirteen I was competing in cutting-horse competitions. We traveled all over the country to different shows and horse sales.”

 
“And your mother, did she go along on these trips?” he asked sagely.

  Maggie’s head shook with regret. “No. Mother was more of a fashion plate. She didn’t like anything to do with the outdoors. Her thing was to socialize and give parties for my father’s business partners. She also enjoyed planning charity functions and fund-raisers for local politicians. She wouldn’t get within twenty feet of a horse, and she resented the fact that Daddy had gotten me interested in a ‘man’s sport’ as she called it.”

  “So this is why you’re not in touch with her now?”

  Maggie looked away from him and shrugged a second time. “No. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when she remarried. Her husband wanted nothing to do with Aaron or me, nor did he want us in Mother’s life. It was obvious he was afraid she would will all of the money she’d gotten from Daddy to us, rather than him. I tried to make her see what a leech he was, but she told me to get out and never come back. So I haven’t,” she added firmly, then glanced up at him. “I never wanted Daddy’s money, Daniel. For heaven’s sake, Hugh left me plenty. All I wanted from her was—well, for us to be a family.”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie.”

  She cast him a wry smile. “So now you’re probably thinking I was spoiled by my father.”

  He shrugged. “Not really. You don’t come across to me as a pampered woman. And I think it’s great that the two of you were so close.”

  It was absolutely silly how good his comment made her feel. His opinion of her shouldn’t matter at all. But in fact it was beginning to mean everything. And that admission caused a thread of fear to wind around her heart.

  “Well, I’m not going to deny that I had it easy while I was growing up. Daddy was generous about buying me any horse I wanted. And since I fell in love with every one of them I laid eyes on, that turned out to be a good many.”

  The faint smile on his face said that he understood. “I’m not surprised. There’s something about girls and horses.”

  She laughed and then her expression sobered as she looked at him.

  “Daniel, I’m so sorry about Aaron saying what he did about your father. He didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I hope it didn’t hurt your feelings.”

  A mocking sound erupted from deep in his throat. “Hardly, Maggie. Aaron was just being a normal kid. Children say exactly what they think.”

  She turned so that she was facing the fire and as she gazed down at the flames, she ventured to say, “I got the feeling that you didn’t want to talk about your father.”

  Daniel followed her example and turned to face the fire also. “No. He’s not a pleasant subject.”

  “Would it make you angry if I asked why?”

  He let out a long breath, then lifted his gaze up from the flames and stared into the shadows surrounding their small camp.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Feeling awkward now, she shrugged. “Girls don’t just have love affairs with horses, they also have problems with nosiness.”

  He grunted with amusement and then fell silent. Long minutes passed without any sounds except for the wind in the cedars, the soft lapping of the water and the crackle of the campfire.

  Maggie had already decided he was going to ignore her question completely when he started to speak again.

  “You’re right, Maggie. I don’t like to talk about my father. He brought shame to my mother and me, to our family. He was no good.”

  Regret for him raced through her and left a knot in the pit of her stomach. “You told Aaron that you didn’t really know him. Was that true?”

  Daniel shrugged. “In a sense. I was probably Aaron’s age when Robert Redwing finally left our home. By then I’d seen enough to make me wish he wasn’t my father. He loved the ‘firewater’ as he always called it. He’d get tanked up most every day and when he did, he’d get mean with my mother and me. When he was sober, he was a sullen, depressed man who wanted to blame his problems on everyone but himself. I was glad when he finally left us.”

  Dear Lord, how awful, she thought as her heart ached for what he must have gone through as a child.

  “What about your mother? Was she glad he left, too?”

  Daniel rubbed a hand through his thick, black hair. “I’ve often wondered about that. My mother, Pelipa, is not a woman who speaks her feelings to others. And down through the years, she hasn’t mentioned Robert very often. As far as I’m concerned, she was much better off without him. But Pelipa was raised in the old ways. To her, a wife’s duty is to respect and devote herself to her husband, no matter what. I think she’s always thought of herself as a failure because her husband left her—that it was her fault because she should have made him happier.” He paused and made a bitter, mocking sound. “No one could have made that man happy.”

  So Daniel hadn’t had a normal family upbringing, she thought sadly. And thinking on it, she was actually amazed that he’d turned out to be such a good, steadfast man.

  “What about your mother now? Did she ever remarry?”

  He shot her a rueful look. “We were living in Bloomfield at the time the bastard took off. After that, we moved back to the reservation in Colorado, and until this day my mother hasn’t stepped foot off it. The outside world is a harsh place to her. At least the reservation makes her feel safe. My mother will never remarry or look at another man. Robert Redwing ruined her chances for happiness.”

  “How did he get killed? Do you know?”

  “A relative of Robert’s who lived in Arizona gave us a sketchy account. Something about him driving a truck through a guardrail and landing upside down in an arroyo. Before that he’d been in and out of the Arizona State Penitentiary for theft.”

  Maggie slowly shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Daniel. I know that sounds stupid to be saying such a thing to you now. But I truly mean it. I wish your young life had been different—better.”

  She could hear him breathe deeply, and when he looked at her, Maggie could see he was grateful that she understood and wasn’t condemning him for his father’s shortcomings.

  “I wished it had been, too,” he said quietly. “But it can’t be changed now. I can only look forward. Just as you should only look forward.”

  Maggie understood what he was trying to tell her. And she knew he was right. She needed to let go of the past, let go of Hugh’s ghost, but she’d clung to it for so many years now that it was like a child’s safety blanket. She was afraid if she ever let go, the pain would come crashing back in.

  They stood there in silence for a few moments, both of them soaking up the relaxing heat of the fire. Maggie was acutely aware that there was only an inch or two separating their arms, and the idea of stepping closer and touching him kept going round and round in her mind like an erotic mantra she couldn’t shut out.

  “I, uh, think I’d better make a bathroom trip and get ready for bed,” she finally said. “Do you have a flashlight I can use?”

  “I’ll get it for you,” he told her.

  Maggie followed him to the truck where he dug the light from a stack of things on the front seat. Thankfully, she had clean tissue in her jeans pocket. It would be more than embarrassing to ask him for something so personal.

  “Would you like me to go with you?” he asked as he shut the door on the truck and turned back to her.

  Maggie stared at him wide-eyed. “Why no! I can make it by myself.”

  Even though it was darker where they were now standing, she could see that he was frowning impatiently at her.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I can stay away from you and keep my back turned. You might feel safer.”

  A wolf, a bear or even a mountain lion couldn’t frighten her as much as the feelings she was having for Daniel. Even when she was much younger and with Hugh, she’d never felt so gripped with physical need, and that both shocked and frightened her.

  “N-no, I’ll be fine,” she assured him, and though she was trying her best not to sound nervous, she knew she sounded
like a stuttering schoolgirl.

  “I’ll wait for you by the fire,” he said.

  All she could do was nod and then she scampered off into the dark woods, knowing the real threat to her safety was behind her.

  A few minutes later she returned to camp and went to the tailgate of the pickup where Daniel had set up a plastic washbasin, soap and water.

  As she washed her hands, he asked, “Would you like me to heat you a bucket of water to wash with?”

  Maggie tossed handfuls of cold water onto her face and wiped it off with a towel.

  “There’s no need for all that trouble,” she told him. “I’m just cleaning my face and hands. The rest of me can wait until I get back to civilization.”

  Jamming her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, she walked over to the fire. “I guess I’ll go to bed now,” she announced.

  His brows rose as he glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s only eight o’clock. Do you usually go to bed this early?”

  Maggie felt her cheeks suddenly flood with embarrassed heat, and she could only hope the orange glow from the flames was camouflaging the telltale color on her face.

  “No. But out here—this is different.”

  He turned his head, and she could feel his dark gaze boring into her. “We’ll only be here for tonight. You should enjoy it instead of trying to run away from me.”

  Maggie’s jaw dropped as she looked up at him. His chiseled profile was etched with firelight and she could easily imagine him as he might have been if he’d lived when the Utes still roamed free and wild over the San Juan Mountains. He’d be dressed in tanned leather and his black hair would rest long and straight upon his shoulders. His language would be Shoshone, but the glint of desire in his eyes would be the same dangerous light she was seeing now.

  “Run away?” She sputtered with nervous laughter. “Do I look like I’m trying to run away?”

  Daniel studied her face. “You want to hide in your bed.”