Colton's Folly (Native American contemporary romance)

by Simons, Renee

  “As Lance has already pointed out, and as so many others have agreed, the future is really what we’re talking about here. Our aim is to become as self-sufficient as possible. To do that we must have a number of sources of income. Raising cattle is the first, but raising cattle involves more than just herding beef in good weather. We need insurance that they can survive the winter, and that means having a sufficient supply of feed when grazing is out of the question. No one here wants to be dependent on anyone off the reservation. We all know what grief that can bring.”

  There was a low murmur of agreement from his listeners, and an accompaniment of shaking heads and grimaces from those who remembered past disappointments.

  “I believe that by taking this course of action we’ll be working toward achieving independence in one area, at least. When we’re done we’ll be able to process feed grown right here on our own land, with machinery we can either rent or own outright. That means work for more of us during the growing and harvesting seasons and then afterward, during the processing itself. With careful planning over the next two or three years we can increase the size of the herd substantially because we’ll have sufficient feed for wintering over. We won’t ever have to fear a repetition of what just happened.”

  Abby felt her pulse race with excitement as she began to visualize the end result of today’s decision, if it was positive: a sea of cattle moving slowly as it grazed; pastures ripe with grain and hay and other feed crops; sheds and storage buildings filled with food and equipment; maybe even a real clinic and a bigger school. She focused on Cat again.

  He had paused for a moment, looked around, seeing acceptance on most faces, doubts on a few others, defiance on a few more. For a moment he looked over the heads of his listeners, as if seeing a distant dream; then he turned back to them and continued thoughtfully. “There’s something else about this thing that appeals to me. You all know how we’ve fought off the mining and industrial interests who wanted to come in here in the name of progress and take whatever the land could give, leaving only destruction behind. My father saw that coming, as did old Chief Hawk and the other elders of our tribe. They knew that such development was wrong for us and our land, and they helped us fight.

  “Well, I feel somehow that this is in line with what we’ve always wanted as a way of life here... simple, as traditional as we can keep it, close to nature. We’ll be caring for the land instead of destroying it. Each time we take something from it we’ll be giving something back.”

  Someone rose and asked, “Do you think we can really trust this guy? I mean, look at what him and his friends did to the Lightfoot boy. That ain’t exactly a character reference you know.”

  Cat ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well,” he drawled, “you’re right, of course. I’ve been thinking about that. And the thing is... the judge said Bridges has got to be on a year’s probation. So he’s gonna be on his best behavior. I don’t think he’ll pull anything funny. Also, I think it was a sincere offer to help. Maybe his way of making up for that whole mess.

  “Now I know our white neighbors don’t have a very good track record--”

  He was interrupted by a chorus of whistles, laughter and applause. Abby cringed at the force of the reaction, and for the first time since the meeting had begun felt out of place, as alien as she had on the day a lifetime ago when she’d first arrived in Twin Buttes.

  “But someone whose opinions I value recently accused me of reverse prejudice,” Cat continued. “This person said we have a tendency to lump all whites into the same category, good and bad together.” Abby’s heart thumped as he repeated her words to his people. He continued. “So I’ve been thinking.. .every so often a white eyes comes along who becomes a real friend. My own father was one. Arthur Koehler’s another, and so’s the new teacher. Even that judge did a fair thing. Maybe this guy deserves a chance. If he proves out, we’ve got someone in that community who might speak up for us if we need it someday. If not, we’re still in good shape, because we’ve already been paid for any work we do. I don’t think we can lose this time.”

  Abby waited silently as the Council moved to vote and realized that, finally, Cat was beginning to recognize the things she’d been trying to tell him. Too bad, she thought, that his acceptance had come too late for them. She listened to the vote: eight members in favor of the offer, two against.

  Cat spoke once more. “I think the decision is a good one, and I hope that those who disagree right now will have good cause to change their minds in the near future. Now, I guess we should talk about volunteers for this job. Bridges said something about needing six men. Who’s for it?”

  It didn’t take long to round up the necessary number. Then the meeting broke up, with the volunteers staying behind briefly to give their names to Cat, the rest making their way to their homes. As the place emptied Abby slipped out and breathed in the fresh, crisp winter air. Her mind spun as she relived the scene she’d just witnessed. Seeing him with his people, watching from the sidelines as he quietly, but deftly, guided them to a decision that could alter their future, had given her an insight she might otherwise never have acquired.

  She marveled at the new awareness that gradually filtered through the jumble of thought: not that he didn’t love her, but that he loved his people more. I can understand that, she thought. That’s how I feel about my baby. She unconsciously placed a hand over her stomach. There were people to whom you owed unswerving loyalty, for whom your responsibility was so great that everything else came second. That was the choice he’d made, what he’d been trying to help her to recognize, what she’d known, but hadn’t wanted to accept. Seeing him as she just had finally made that acceptance possible.

  “Abby?”

  His voice broke through to her, and she looked up to find him standing before her. The sight of him stirred her, as always, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” She shook her head wordlessly, afraid to speak. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

  She cleared her throat. “For a long time.”

  “I didn’t see you.”

  “I know.”

  “I hope you weren’t offended by what was said. Those things weren’t meant for--”

  “White ears?” She smiled at him, and he smiled back. “I’m not offended. I’m glad I came.”

  “Are you? Why?”

  “This is a side of you that’s new to me, but one that explains a lot.”

  They began walking toward her house beneath a cloudy gray sky that seemed to promise more snow. After a moment he stopped her, passing a hand down her arm and capturing her fingers in his. His touch was warm and strong, but gentle.

  “And?” he prompted.

  “And I’m not angry anymore. Sad, but not angry.” She looked down at the snow-covered toes of her moccasins and then up at him again. “It may be that after my baby is born I’ll leave here. You need to be free to do your work, to give yourself to your people. I can see that now. But I...” She shrugged.

  “You what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must know what you feel.”

  She gave him a rueful smile. “I feel like Richie did after the attack. I hurt all over, as if I’ve just been in a battle with an opponent I never had a chance of beating. But I’ll survive.”

  “Do you think we could ever be friends?”

  She laughed in amazement. “My God, how you’ve changed!”

  “Could we?”

  “I don’t know. Once that would have been enough.” She withdrew her hand from his. “Now I think I need more.” She smiled sadly and walked to her house--alone.

  According to the calendar spring should have been firmly entrenched, but when Abby looked out her kitchen window at six a.m., she knew that winter had returned to hit them again. Later, as she walked the short distance from her house to the school, she felt the atmosphere around her, heavy and still, all sounds muffled, as if absorbed by thick
cotton wool. The sky above was gray and thickly overcast, the temperature warm. But a tingle in her nerve endings warned her not to be deceived by that warmth. There was a storm brewing, and this one would be a dilly!

  Charlie Antler came out onto the porch of the general store and raised one arm in greeting. “Hi, Abby. Did ya get a look at that sky?” He jabbed the air with an upward motion. “We’re in for it, huh?”

  “I’m afraid so, Charlie. Winter isn’t finished with us yet.”

  “I reckon. Well, better be makin’ some preparations. See ya.” He turned away and moved back inside.

  Abby stepped inside the school building and found a dozen or so children already seated at their desks. Smiling, she greeted them, and they began the morning’s lessons. Then she gave them assignments that they could complete at home and sent them on their way. She was clearing off her own desk when Benjamin came and stood beside her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked when she saw the disturbed expression on his face.

  “Could you come down to my house and take a look at my mother? That creep she lives with beat her up last night, and I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t find Cat. I think he’s out with the herd.”

  Abby grabbed her poncho and hurried out with the boy in tow. “Go to Martha’s and find Cat’s medical bag. Tell her what’s happened and meet me down at your mother’s place. Hurry!”

  He arrived almost as soon as Abby did. She’d removed her wrap and was just bending over the woman who lay on the bed when she felt him at her elbow.

  “Light the lamp so I can see better. And get me some warm water.”

  There was no electricity in the tiny cabin, but the kerosene lamp gave Abby enough light to see that the woman’s face was badly bruised and covered with dried blood. One eye was swollen shut, and her lower lip had been cut.

  “Mrs. Caitlin? Do you know who I am?”

  One eye opened, and the woman nodded. “You’re my boy’s teacher.”

  “That’s right. And I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

  “Don’t need help.”

  “At least I can treat those bruises. Then I’ll go if you want me to.”

  Benjamin’s mother said nothing, and Abby began to work on her battered face. She could feel the boy straining at her side.

  Finally he blurted out, “Why do you let him do this to you, Ma? Why don’t you throw him out?”

  The woman stirred. “I need somebody. He’s all I got.” Just then a dark figure filled the doorway. Gault Black Wolf, the man who lived with Benjamin’s mother. Behind him, Abby could just make out Cutter. Where had he come from?

  Abby’s heart thudded in fear at the brutish man before her. His eyes glowered blackly at her, while the fists hanging at his side seemed ready to strike. He was tall and heavy--and mean.

  He stepped forward. “You interfered with this family enough, lady. Get the hell out.”

  The man reached behind him, and Abby saw the glint of steel. Obeying some instinct she could never explain but would forever question, she stepped forward. Before she could say or do anything Cutter moved past Gault, pushed her backward against Benjamin, putting himself between her and the knife. Unable--or unwilling--to brake his forward motion, Gault lunged, burying the blade up to its hilt in Cutter’s side.

  Cutter let out a gasp and collapsed. Abby wrapped her arms around his sagging body and sank with him to the floor, cradling his head in her lap. She tried to staunch the flow of blood, but she couldn’t apply enough pressure. She looked up at Benjamin.

  “See if Cat’s back,” she commanded in a tight whisper. “Tell him what’s happened.”

  As she reached for Cat’s medical bag Gault bolted out of the house, but Abby didn’t care. She ripped open Cutter’s shirt and folded a towel into a pressure pad. She wound gauze bandages tightly around his middle to hold it in place, and after what seemed like an interminable length of time the flow seemed to abate. Cutter’s face was white, his pulse uneven; he was unconscious.

  Benjamin raced in to say that Cat had not yet returned. The men were out with the herd, making preparations for the coming storm, and weren’t expected back for hours. Abby reasoned that even if he went out to bring Cat back it would take at least an hour. And they didn’t have an hour.

  “Benjamin, go back to the house and find the keys-- they’re on a hook by the kitchen door. Bring the jeep here, and don’t stop for anything.”

  The urgency in her voice got through to Cutter, and his eyes opened. “You all right?” he whispered weakly. “Ben okay?”

  Abby’s throat tightened. “We’re fine. Just relax. We’re going to take you to the hospital.”

  “The storm... you shouldn’t...”

  Abby cut off his words. “Shhh...the snow won’t start for hours yet.” I hope, she prayed.

  When Benjamin pulled up in the jeep they lifted Cutter on a blanket and set him down on the floor behind the front seat, wedging him in with whatever they could find in the Caitlin house, pillows, more blankets, a rolled-up throw rug. Then Benjamin offered to drive.

  “No,” she answered sharply. “Use Martha’s phone. Call the hospital and tell them we’re coming in. Ask them to send out an ambulance to meet us, and answer their questions the best you can. Call the sheriff and tell him what happened. Watch out for Cat, and fill him in.”

  The first flakes began to fall as Abby put the jeep in gear and started down the street. By the time they’d traversed the access road that linked the reservation with the main highway the snow was falling in a thick curtain that cut her view to perhaps twenty feet.

  She looked at the speedometer. At fifteen miles per hour the trip to the hospital seemed a lifetime long, but there was no turning back. She gripped the wheel firmly, feeling the tires slip on a thin layer of ice beneath the snow. She was grateful for the jeep’s four-wheel drive and the fact that there was no wind to drive the snow, or to fight.

  Suddenly something hit the jeep on its left side. The impact was jarring, rattling her teeth with considerable force, but she held the wheel tightly to maintain control. Suddenly the vehicle swerved, skidding on a patch of ice. She relaxed her hold slightly, letting the wheels find their own path, and came out of the skid. She realized that they were riding the shoulder, but before she could do anything about it the right front wheel slipped off the edge and they headed down into a gully. She heard a loud crack and lost the steering, and they came to a stop against the far side of the ditch. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks as she rested her head on the steering wheel. She turned in her seat to look at Cutter. His eyes were closed, but she watched carefully and saw his chest slowly rise and fall.

  She looked at her watch. An hour had passed, and they were probably halfway to Crossroads, if that. Would an ambulance come out this far? She wondered. “God, I hope so,” she prayed, and went on waiting. Every few minutes she checked Cutter and rearranged the blankets and rugs she’d piled on him to help him retain body warmth. When she next checked her watch another hour had elapsed, and she could wait no longer.

  She left the jeep and slowly began to walk toward Crossroads, hoping to meet the ambulance or some other driver foolhardy enough to venture out in the storm. The baby was strangely quiet, and the only things she had to worry about were the stitch in her side, the cold and the slowly worsening pain in her lower back. She put everything out of her mind and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and not giving up.

  Her concentration was so complete that she never heard the car approaching from behind, not the crunch of its heavy tires, or the screech of brakes, or the short beep-beep of its horn. She did hear the voice, however, and stopped with a smile.

  “Abby,” Cat called softly from just behind her. She turned into his arms, gratefully pressing her cheek against his chest. “Damn it, Ab, you did it again!” His arms tightened around her, crushing her against his wet jacket. She was unnerved by the huskiness in his voice as he said against her hair, “Why the hell di
dn’t you wait for me? You could have gotten killed.”

  He held her at arm’s length, examining her face, seeing her reddened nose, her eyes glazed with exhaustion, the hollows in her cheeks, and something kicked over in his gut. He knew just how close he’d come to losing her, and the thought tortured him.

  She reached up and touched his cold cheek with a colder hand. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

  “I’m not worried,” he denied gruffly. “I’m mad.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes soft with love, and smiled knowingly. “Yeah, but you always get mad when you’re worried about me. You can’t fool me anymore.”

  With a sigh of exasperation he lowered his mouth to hers in a long, hungry kiss full of thankfulness and homecoming; the kiss warmed them both and melded them together until they were reluctant to part. They walked back to his pickup, their arms around each other’s waists despite the awkwardness of their bulky jackets.

  “Where’s Cutter?” she asked as he boosted her up into the cab.

  “I put the camper top on. He’s in the back.”

  “How is he?”

  “His pulse and pressure are weak from all the blood he lost, but the cold and that compress you applied stopped the bleeding. I think he’ll be okay once we get him to the hospital.”

  “You didn’t happen to see what hit the jeep?”

  “About two thousand pounds worth of moose. The impact broke his neck. I pushed the carcass into the ditch.”

  “Poor thing. I guess he didn’t see me coming in the snow.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t have time to worry about animals right now.”

  About a mile down the road they met the ambulance and transferred Cutter so that the attendants could monitor his vital signs. The driver came over to Cat’s side and leaned in through the open window.

  “You gonna bring the lady in?”

  Cat nodded. “How’s the boy?”