The Blackbird

by Kristy McCaffrey

  He stood, hands on hips. “All right.”

  Strong hands had her upright so quickly a dizzy spell overtook her.

  “Sorry,” he murmured into her ear.

  She gritted her teeth, both from the pain of moving and from the acute distress of the situation. As she clung to Cale, a downward glance showed what little clothing she wore. The sight of her breasts greeted her through the open collar of the flimsy garment.

  Could this be any worse?

  A glance to Cale’s face, so near to hers, told her he’d had as much an eyeful as she.

  “Tess, it’s all right. I’m not gonna ravish you. If you sit at the edge of the bed, I can hold the pot beneath you.”

  She bobbed her head up and down, unable to speak.

  Just do it and get it over with, she told herself.

  Cale did what he said, and soon the deed was done, and he had her tucked back into bed. He departed to empty the pot, and returned as Tess was finally able to steady her breathing, if not the staccato of her heartbeat.

  He slid the porcelain pot back to its home beneath the bed. “You’re not in more pain, are you?”

  “No.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m just wishing that you didn’t have to see me like this.”

  “You’re a human being, Tess. I don’t see you as anything else.”

  “But...I imagine...that you prefer a woman in a more...attractive state.”

  “If you’re worried that your bodily functions are gonna scare me away, then you really have no idea of who you are.”

  Her eyes flew to his. He stood near the end of the bed, a hand on the bedpost, his gaze fixated on her in the soft glow of the lantern-light.

  “Tess Carlisle, you’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met. You’re strong and smart, wild and charming. I know you won’t believe me because of your leg, but you’re graceful and beautiful in everything that you do. You hide yourself, but that essential part, that radiant and natural part, shines through anyway.

  “I know you’re unsure of yourself, but I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I’ve known women—not many in the way you might think—but I’ve never met anyone like you. I’ve no doubt in my mind that when you finally find your confidence and your footing in this life, there’ll be plenty of men drawn to you. They won’t be able to stay away.

  “And if you’re unsure what I think about you, then I’ll set you straight. I’m honestly under your spell. You’re the most exquisite woman I’ve ever known.”

  He pushed away from the bed. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you have to know that I want you. I have since the first moment I laid eyes on you. But I won’t pressure you. You have every right to choose the course of your life, and who it’ll be with.” He grinned. “But I hope you’ll consider me in your plans.”

  He closed the door behind him, and all Tess could do was stare.

  No one had ever spoken to her that way, as if she were the most important thing in the world, a priceless treasure to be handled with the utmost care.

  Did Cale really mean what he’d just said? Did he care for her that much?

  His words went far deeper than igniting a desire in her belly to join her body to his. They brought her soul back to life, thawing the grip of an icy winter that had deadened her heart.

  As the laudanum took effect, a drowsy and contented feeling overtook her. The warmth of Cale’s energy, as bright as an Arizona sun, made her feel—for the first time in the longest while—happy.

  * * * *

  Tess awoke to the sound of Vern Blight in the tiny kitchen area. The door to the bedroom was ajar. She cleared her throat.

  “Oh good,” he said, pushing open the door farther. “You're awake.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Mister Blight, for letting me stay in your home.”

  Sunlight illuminated Blight’s short stature and square shoulders. “It's no trouble. I'm glad for the company. How's your leg doin'?”

  “It's quite painful.”

  His grizzled features became contemplative. “Well, I got some firewater that'll take care of that. You want some? Or maybe tiswin?”

  “The Apache liquor? No. Maybe later.”

  He nodded. “That leg of yours wasn't set right the first time, was it? You'd injured it before?”

  “Sí. Cale said that what you did may help me walk better than I could before.”

  “Well, I was a little rough in straightening it, but it seemed to me, it needed it. Thankfully, you were out cold, else I wouldn't have tried it. You're a strong one.”

  “I don't know about that.” She heard the flutter of wings. “Is there a bird stuck in the house?”

  “No. Here, I'll show you.” He disappeared around the corner then entered the room carrying a makeshift metal cage. Inside, a dark bird moved about, agitated.

  She pushed herself to sit upright, wincing but determined to not lie about all day. She tugged the blanket to her chest to cover her state of undress, then peered into the cage.

  “He's beautiful,” she said. “Is he hurt?”

  “Yeah.” Vern set the cage onto the edge of her bed, and she grasped it to keep it steady. “He's a she, and she's a blackbird. I found her a few days back. Couldn't fly.”

  “How do you know it's a she?”

  “Just do. I've always had a knack with animals.”

  “What will you do with her?” Tess watched as the bird calmed, and she marveled at the black eyes, so full of knowing.

  “Would ya look at that.” Vern chuckled. “I think she likes you. I had a feeling you two might hit it off. As for what to do, she's hurt her wing, kinda like you and your leg. I think if I keep an eye on her, she might recover. Maybe you can help me.”

  Tess smiled at the bird, sleek black feathers glistening, and a patch of red evident near the neck. “Yes, I'll help in any way I can.”

  “Well then, the best thing will be for her to spend time outside. The same is true for you. When you're ready, you should come and sit on the porch.”

  “I think I'll wait for Cale to return.” He could scoop her up and take her outside. It would be much easier than for her to struggle with the cane, at least for now. Too much movement ignited the pain anew.

  She wondered if the blackbird dreaded a human's touch, and might go crazy to avoid the contact. Tess could appreciate the sentiment. But she was beginning to accept Cale's nearness, to acknowledge that it wasn't dreadful or a precursor to something more awful.

  “I'll leave her here with you.” Vern grabbed a stool and brought it beside the bed, then set the cage atop it. It was near enough that Tess could watch the bird. “I plan to let her go when she's better, but if you want to name her, that might be all right. Don't usually recommend it since it can cause too much attachment, but I don't know...” Vern shook his head. “There's something about the two of you. I think you're connected.” He left the house.

  Tess looked at the bird. She was so beautiful, black as night with glistening feathers. One of her wings didn’t fold against her the way it ought, although Tess couldn’t get a clear view of the injury. The bird was still able to move the appendage, but she would be at the mercy of predators.

  Maybe we are alike.

  The blackbird didn’t cower and didn’t shrink away in fear as it watched Tess through the bars meant to protect it. But in time, that protection would turn into imprisonment.

  We can’t stay in our cages forever, can we?

  She wondered at the inherent fortitude of this creature.

  O blackbird! sing me something well.

  Hank loved to quote Tennyson.

  Theirs is not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.

  She watched the bird sit serenely in its protected prison. Tess needed to let go of the why, and needed to start living. No more feeling sorry for herself because of her leg, because of her trauma. No more holding Cale at arm’s length.

  “I’ll call you el amado.”

  Beloved.

  Ch
apter Eighteen

  Cale spent the morning scouting. Returning to the scene of the ambush, he discovered chaotic tracks, making it difficult to determine what happened to Lange and One Ear. However, he didn’t find any bodies, indicating they likely lived. At this point, Cale couldn’t risk tracking them farther. He would stay with Tess until she healed, then decide if they should continue the search for Hank. The more involved he became with Tess, the more he considered proceeding alone.

  Cale returned to Blight's house with a bundle of wildflowers he'd come across. He’d never considered himself an overly romantic man, but the impulse to do something nice for Tess struck. He found her, still in bed, watching a blackbird in a cage.

  “What's this?” he asked.

  “She's injured, and Vern is caring for her. He said I could help.”

  As he moved closer, the bird squawked and shifted.

  “Shhh, Amado,” Tess cooed. “El no te hará daño.” He won't hurt you.

  Cale took it as a sign of progress that Tess no longer viewed him as a male who would harm her. He brought the flowers from behind his back. The wonderment on her face told him she’d never received such a gift.

  “They're beautiful.” She took the bundle from him. “Gracias.”

  “I thought you might like them.”

  She smelled the collection of red and yellow flowers, and offered him a bright smile. He stared, wondering where the usual Tess had gone.

  “I was waiting for you to return,” she said. “Would you carry me out to the porch to sit?”

  “Of course.”

  She pushed the blanket from her, and he saw she still wore the nightgown that Blight had somehow dug up for her. The thin material did little to hide her round, enticing breasts. He put out of his mind that Blight had unclothed her, since the man had been trying to help, maybe even saving her life in the process.

  And he’d put out of his mind twice glimpsing her nakedness in the last two days while looking after her. He wouldn’t allow lust to enter his thoughts while she was clearly in so much discomfort.

  Now, the situation was changing.

  He slid his arms beneath her and carried her outside to the porch.

  “You smell nice,” he murmured.

  “Vern brought me rosewater, and I was able to clean up. I’ve never known a man to be such a good housekeeper.”

  Trying to quell the sudden urge to run his lips down her neck, Cale settled her onto a worn-smooth rocker, catching an eyeful of the cleft between her breasts.

  Damn.

  He paused, his face near hers, as her hands lingered on his shoulders. “For an invalid, you’re awfully enticing.”

  She brought a hand to his cheek and ran fingers across the day’s growth. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

  “Nah. I’d say it’s the other way around.”

  “What do you like in a woman, Cale?”

  “No. I’m not doing that. I don’t want you to be anything other than what you are. And for the record, I like everything about you.”

  “Why?”

  “Damn if I know,” he teased. “As it is, I have to carry you everywhere.”

  She frowned and pushed against him.

  He leaned in for a fast kiss. Grinning, he kissed her again until she laughed. “Wait here.”

  Cale returned with a blanket and an empty tin can. He scooped up the flowers she’d dropped to the porch and arranged them in the container, then added water from a nearby barrel. He set it beside her, then brought a wooden chair and placed it on the other side.

  She lifted the blanket he’d placed on her lap. “I’m too overheated to use this.”

  He sat and leaned back in the chair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Tess. If you don’t cover your loveliness, I’m not gonna remember my own name soon.”

  A pleased smile crept to her lips, and he was struck with a satisfaction far more fulfilling than if he’d bedded her.

  Well, bedding her would be nice, too.

  He was still a man.

  “What about Amado?” she asked.

  “Right.” He went back to the bedroom and returned with the caged bird, placing it on the far side of her. He resumed his seat.

  “I could tell you a story,” she offered.

  “That’d be nice.” He found a piece of hay and stuck it in his mouth.

  “Do you have one you’d like to hear?”

  “You take requests?” He thought for a moment. “When I was a boy living in Virginia, my mama would sometimes tell me about animals that lived in the west. My favorite was the coyote. He always had a knack for surviving, and he was a smart-aleck, too. I guess that appealed to me.”

  “That makes sense.” She shifted a disheveled braid across her shoulder, her face still flushed from their encounter.

  He enjoyed watching her, and tried to be unobtrusive about it. “Maybe you should tell a tale about a blackbird. I wonder, if you listen closely, if Amado would tell you a story.”

  “Sometimes I wonder what world you're from, Cale.”

  Her comment struck a chord. He'd been wandering a long time. His ma had told him he'd likely travel the world by the time he was thirty. He hadn't quite done that, but she was probably one of the few people who'd had an uncanny insight to him.

  “I could say the same about you.” He drank in the sight of her, sunlight illuminating her green eyes and rosy lips.

  “I have a tale I heard that was attributed to the Navajo, about a coyote and a group of lizards.” She paused and shifted into her narrating persona. “Coyote liked to spy on others. He was nosy that way. One day he noticed a group of lizards playing a game, so he came close to watch, but they pretended not to see him. This annoyed him, because he very much enjoyed being noticed. He moved closer. ‘What game is that you're playing?’ he asked.”

  Cale settled in, enjoying the change of cadence in her voice, as if it opened a portal to a different time and place.

  “‘We call it sliding,’ one of the lizards answered,” she continued. “They took turns sliding down a hillside on a flat rock. Once at the bottom, they would carry the rock back to the top.

  “‘Well, I would like to play,’ said Coyote.

  “‘Oh no,’ the lizard answered. ‘You can't do it. You will be killed.’

  “Coyote didn't believe that—in fact, he was quite certain he would be the best slider they'd ever seen. He insisted on being given the chance to try. The lizards finally agreed, but were adamant that he could only ride the small rock, and not the larger one. He agreed, but in his mind, he fully intended to ride the larger one.

  “The lizards brought the small rock to the edge, balanced it while the coyote climbed on top then tilted it downward. Away he went. When he got to the bottom, he felt quite satisfied that he could do this, and better than them. He brought the small rock back to the top and demanded to ride the larger rock.

  “After much discussion, the lizards finally agreed, saying that if Coyote wanted to kill himself, then it was his choice. They set up the large rock for him, and down the hill he went. But the rock got caught on a smaller one and flipped, sending Coyote high into the air. Terrified, he knew he was in trouble. ‘The lizards had been right,’ he thought. ‘I'm going to die.’

  “He landed hard on the ground, and thought maybe he was safe, but then he could see the large rock flying right toward him. In despair, he knew he was going to die.

  “From higher up the hill, the lizards watched as the large rock smashed into Coyote, crushing him to death. They didn't feel sorry for him, for they had warned him all along of the fate that awaited him. They wondered what they should do, however. Moving Coyote would be difficult, as he was very big. They could just leave him there, but he blocked the pathway for their fun game. It was agreed that they should bring him back to life. So, working with a certain magic that only they knew, they formed a circle around Coyote's lifeless body and revived him.

  “The oldest lizard said to him, ‘Now go on, and leave. An
d after this, don't try to play lizard games. We don't want you to die again.’ So Coyote ran off, happy to be alive.”

  Tess went quiet and they sat for a time in the silence of the afternoon.

  “All Coyote wanted to do was participate in the fun,” Cale said, still chewing on the piece of hay.

  “But maybe one should stick to his own kind.”

  “Miracles do happen. The lizards saved him after all.”

  Tess smiled at him, and rocked the chair, but only a little. “Do you believe in miracles?”

  He considered for a moment. “I think sometimes we get help where we least expect it.”

  “What about your half-sister, Molly? She lived with the Comanche. That must’ve been difficult for her. Some might say her return was a miracle.”

  “She’s strong, in a way that reminds me of you. I think you’d like her.”

  “I hope one day to meet her.”

  Cale reached out and took her hand. “If you’re asking if I’d ever take you to Texas, then the answer is yes.”

  She leaned her head back against the rocker. “Don’t say things you might not mean.” Her soft voice held no censure, only echoes of broken promises.

  “I don’t.”

  He laced his fingers with hers, and they sat in a companionable silence as the creek flowed beyond, Amado pecked at her cage, and the trees played with a barely-there wind.

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the next two weeks Tess rested, read Tennyson, and cared for Amado. Vern Blight checked in on her, and Cale was ever near. Although he stole a kiss when he could, and Tess anticipated each and every one, it was clear he made a concerted effort to keep any passion between them at bay. Each evening after supper they would sit on the porch and watch the stars while Tess told a story, Vern often joining them.

  The older man spoke little of the Indians and men he knew in the Dragoons, and instead regaled them with tales of the animals he’d saved over the years. Tess quietly committed several to memory to add to her cache of narratives.

  The Apache couple who lived on the property kept their distance. Vern called the man Nitis and the woman Smita, but he never made a formal introduction. When Cale told her it was likely the couple didn’t trust them, she let any further inquiries drop. Occasionally she caught glimpses of them tending the garden and the animals in the barn, but always made certain to avoid crossing their paths.