Mountain Magic

by Simmons, Trana Mae

  Mountain Magic

  Trana Mae Simmons

  ****

  Mountain Magic cover design

  and copyright 2011 by

  Angela Rogers

  Misadvmom @ yahoo.com

  Copyright 2011 by Trana Mae Simmons

  Mountain Magic originally published as

  A Leisure Book by Dorchester Publishing

  in 1995

  Bittersweet Promises Excerpt Copyright 2011

  by Trana Mae Simmons

  Bittersweet Promises originally published as

  A Leisure Book by Dorchester Publihsing

  in 1994

  Smashwords Edition

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, or by any means existing now or in the future, in whole or in part, without the express written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  ****

  Trana Mae Simmons reaches out with her very first sentence of Mountain Magic and drops the reader deep into the world of wild mountain men and women. Ms. Simmons skillfully throws in just the right touch of excitement, mystery and danger to keep the reader sitting on the edge of her chair, unwilling to put Mountain Magic down until the very last I love you. Genie Romex Review

  Mountain Magic is a humorous and touching tale that delves into the often painful trek along the road of self-discovery. Fans of Rebecca Paisley and movies like "The Mountain Men" will enjoy. SENSUAL. Lizabelle Cox, Romantic Times Magazine

  ****

  Discover Other E-book Romances by

  Trana Mae Simmons:

  Chrissy's Wish

  Forever Angels

  Tennessee Waltz

  Town Social

  Available Soon as E-books:

  Witch Angel by Belgrave Books in January 2012

  Spellbound by Belgrave Books in February 2012

  Southern Charms by Belgrave Books in March 2012

  ****

  Paranormal Mystery E-Books:

  Writing as T. M. Simmons

  Dead Man Talking

  Dead Man Haunt

  Dead Man Hand (available soon)

  True Ghost Story E-books Writing as T. M. Simmons:

  Ghost Hunting Diary Volume I

  Ghost Hunting Diary, Volume II

  Ghost Hunting Diary Volume III (available soon)

  ****

  Dedication:

  To Angela Rogers, Hannah and Jason,

  a wonderful family and friends.

  May the wind always be

  beneath your wings.

  ****

  Chapter 1

  Rendezvous

  July 1829

  Wyoming Territory

  Jonathan stared blearily at the pile of bones and took a sip from the tin cup in his hand. The sun slipped again and his shadow crawled another inch toward the fire. With a disgruntled snort, the Nez Perce Indian across from him raised his eyes and tossed the fine-bladed knife on the growing pile of plunder at Jonathan's feet.

  Jonathan gave a curt nod and left the knife where it landed. He'd already had his chance to examine it when Tall Man pulled it reluctantly from his waistband in offer of a final attempt to recoup some of his losses. Rising shakily to his feet, he grimaced at the strain the hour spent in the unaccustomed squat had put on his legs. How these Indian men could sit like that for such long periods was beyond him.

  And how could anyone stomach much of this rotgut whiskey? Silas had warned him about it — said it was cut with water and diluted alcohol several times over, treated with red pepper to give it back its kick. Then twists of tobacco, along with sorghum, were thrown in for some semblance of its former color. The traders justified their doctoring of the brew by the long distance they had to carry it from civilization, but it wouldn't even be fit libation at one of the dockside taverns Jon used to frequent. After a winter spent almost alone in the high country with nothing to dull the pain of his reflections, though, he welcomed this chance to fuzz the memories for a little while — whatever the vile taste of the sedative.

  "Looks like you're gonna have to find another wigwam with richer pickin's, Jon, my boyo," Silas said with a chuckle as he placed a steadying hand on Jon's shoulder. "Whoa. Better let me pick up that stuff for you."

  "Yeah," Jon admitted. "But think I'll wait until after we eat to do any more gamblin'. Hell, Silas, my belly's rubbing my backbone. Thought you said there'd be some food tents here, where we could get decent meals. I'm sick and tired of beans and those hard biscuits you make. While we're here, why don't you get someone to show you how to cook?"

  "Me? Who said I was the meal maker in this here outfit? You was damned glad to eat whatever I put in front of you all winter! Why don't you git some lessons yourself, so's I don't have to spend all my time tryin' to fill that bottomless pit you call a belly?"

  A cry from inside the wigwam echoed in the air. After glancing at the spot where Tall Man had sat and finding him gone, Jon turned toward the buffalo skin structure. The flap flew back and Tall Man emerged, pulling a slight figure behind him. Tall Man's wife, who they'd only had a glimpse of when they arrived, followed the two figures out, her furious voice spitting Nez Perce words at him.

  "What's she saying, Silas?" Jon asked.

  "Something that's gonna get her a beatin' if she don't shut up," Silas said grimly. "Watch and keep out of it."

  Tall Man halted and swung around. He spat one word at his wife and raised his free arm, bringing it down in a swinging arc. Since the Indian man was even drunker than Jonathan, his wife easily evaded the blow and ran back toward the wigwam. At the entrance, she shook her fist and fired a last invective at Tall Man before she ducked inside.

  Tall Man stood swaying and staring at the wigwam for a second, then shrugged his shoulders and stumbled to the fire. He jerked the small, deerskin-clad figure from behind him and placed his hands on her shoulders. She straightened her slight stature and glared at Jon and Silas, refusing to bow her head when Tall Man clapped a huge palm against the back of it. Instead, she tossed her long hair angrily and swept a matted black hank over her shoulder, moving a step away from the Indian.

  "What the bloody hell...?"

  "Hush, Jon," Silas said softly. "Let me handle this."

  Jon glanced uneasily at his wizened old partner. Silas had taught him a lot this past winter, probably even saved his life. The agreement between them was for the most part unspoken. Silas took Jon under his wing and passed on his vast store of trapping knowledge in return for Jon's acceptance of Silas's superior experience. The first, inviolable rule was that Jon allowed Silas the lead in dealing with any Indian they came across — anywhere.

  Jon nodded his head and stepped back, draining the last swallow of almost unpalatable liquid from his tin cup. He stifled a burp and swept his hand up to push back a blond curl that had fallen over his face, interfering with his vision. Focusing his somewhat blurred eyes on the three figures in front of him, he settled himself to watch what might turn out to be a sure-fire, interestin
g confrontation.

  Tall Man pointed at the female figure standing near him and began speaking to Silas. He'd already figured out that Jon knew no Nez Perce language, but Tall Man glanced now and then at Jon, obviously indicating for Silas to translate his words. While Jon waited for Silas to explain things to him, he studied the woman.

  Woman? Barely more than a child would be more like it. She couldn't have been much over five feet — a good twelve inches shorter than Jon — but the ragged buckskin garment outlined some fairly shapely curves. Proud breasts rode high, straining against the worn deerskin, and a rope was tied at her slender waist, probably in an attempt to hold together a long rip at the side of the garment. A startlingly long expanse of body remained below the rope. He bet those legs would be long and slender, despite her short stature — long enough to reach the ground, then some.

  Jon groaned under his breath, glad the fringe on his own buckskin tunic hung down far enough to cover the juncture of his thighs. The fringe was good for more than just shedding water, as Silas had explained. His groin tightened and the leather loincloth between his legs rubbed against his burgeoning burst of lust. Plenty of young Indian women had wandered past him since he arrived at rendezvous that morning, but not one of them had created this reaction.

  He hadn't had a woman since months before he left home — saving himself for Roxanne, he had told himself, damn Roxie to hell, anyway. And even Silas's assurance that there would be plenty of feminine companionship at rendezvous, as long as Jon kept back a few furs to trade for his pleasure, hadn't stirred his interest a whole lot.

  Jon slid his blue eyes on down the woman to where her dirty feet were planted in the sandy soil, at least a good twelve inches beneath the jagged hem of her garment. He had a hard time discerning the feet from the dirt — in fact, the entire expanse of legs exposed beneath the hem was encrusted with dirt and mud. Strange. Most of the Indians they had met in the mountains had seemed fairly clean. He and Silas had even shared a winter sweat lodge at a Sioux camp one week.

  "Jon, damn it. Are you listening to me?"

  "Huh? Sorry, Silas. What'd you say?"

  "I said," Silas obviously repeated, "that he wants you to look her over. You know, feel her muscles and check her teeth. Says she's small, but she's strong."

  "Why the hell should I...?"

  "Do it, Jon," Silas said sharply. "Just do it!"

  Jon hesitated another second, his eyes drawn again to the woman. This time he studied the set profile of her face. She stood staring away from them, her slender neck straight beneath a rigid chin. Her face wasn't nearly as dirty as her legs and the dying sun's rays gave enough illumination for him to make out full lips set in a grim line, and a delicate nose in good proportion to her other features. Her eyes were shuttered, but he supposed they were brown, like those on other Indians he had met.

  "Jon!" Silas repeated in a warning voice.

  "All right, all right," Jon grumbled as he walked toward the woman. "But I'd like to know what the hell this is all about."

  As soon as he got close, he could smell her. A fortunate wind had blown her scent away from him at first, but even the breeze couldn't carry away this noxious odor. The smoke from a thousand cooking fires permeated her garment and rose from her gnarled black hair. Grease spots were visible now on almost every inch of her ragged dress. And something else — smelled like she'd gotten mixed up with a skunk sometime in the near past.

  "Damn it, Silas, she stinks," Jon grumbled. He glanced over at Silas and missed the almost imperceptible further tightening of the the woman's mouth and lift of her chin.

  "Then hold your breath," Silas growled.

  "What am I supposed to do?" The odor penetrated the whiskey fuzz of Jon's brain and he lifted the tin cup, mighty displeased to find it empty.

  Tall Man gave a grunt and moved over beside Jon. He grabbed one of Jon's hands and placed it on the woman, covering Jon's fingers with his own and urging him to squeeze the upper portion of the woman's arm. Nodding his head, he spoke a few guttural words and looked to Silas to translate.

  "Feel her arm, Jon," Silas said. "Up and down along the muscles, then do the same to the other one."

  "Silas, I can't...."

  "You damned sure can and you damned sure better," Silas returned.

  Jon gave a sigh and tried to breath back in through his mouth as he complied. The woman held herself even more rigid if possible during his examination. He turned her toward him in order to reach her other arm and she closed her eyes. After a cursory examination of that arm, Jon dropped his hands and glanced at Silas.

  "Now, open her mouth and look in," Silas ordered.

  Jon reached a tentative hand toward the woman's face and she jerked her head aside as soon as his fingertips touched her chin. Beside him, Tall Man surged forward and grabbed the woman's chin, his fingers crushing cruelly. Jon's arm flew up and he knocked the Indian's hand away, turning on Tall Man with a snarl.

  "There isn't any damn reason to hurt her," Jon spat. "I'll do this my way!"

  Tall Man understood the tone of Jon's voice, if not his words. His eyes narrowed dangerously, but he glanced at the pile of plunder Jon had won from him and gave a shrug. With a wave of his hand, he indicated for Jon to continue.

  The woman's head was bent finally, her shoulders burrowed forward and her arms clenched across her chest. Jon's heart went out to her and he spoke softly as he brushed back a clump of hair from her face. The back of his finger inadvertently touched the side of her neck, and the silky feel of her skin surprised him. But he'd already noticed she kept her upper body a lot cleaner than her lower.

  "I'm not going to hurt you like he did," he assured her. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but I do know that if I don't do exactly what Silas says, we'll have this whole camp of Nez Perce after our scalps. Bear with me, will you?"

  The woman shuddered and clenched her arms tighter.

  "Damn it, Silas." Jon turned toward his partner. "I'm not gonna paw this woman like some horse I'm tryin' to buy. You tell Tall Man to explain why he brought her out here, then we'll talk about it."

  "I think you've already figured it out, son," Silas said mildly. "You ain't no idjit. Leastways, you ain't seemed to be so far. Otherwise, I wouldn't've wasted my time with you this past winter."

  "You mean...?" Jon turned back to the hunched figure before him. Her bowed head would barely reach the top of his shoulder, even raised on that silky-skinned neck. Jon's eyes widened and he felt a desperate need for another drink.

  "Here, boyo," Silas said as he reached for Jon's cup. "Reckon we can take care of that."

  Not even realizing he'd spoken aloud, Jon nevertheless held out his cup. As soon as Silas filled it from the jug that had never been too far from his side all day, Jon tipped the cup to his lips while he scanned the mountain tops around him. The fiery streaks of vermilion and chartreuse left behind by the now vanished sun reflected the feeling of the liquid burning a path to his stomach.

  "Silas, he wants me to gamble what I've won against him for this woman, doesn't he?" Jon questioned.

  "Yep. An' it ain't proper for the winner to walk away with what he's got off the loser, as long as the loser's got somethin' else to risk," Silas informed him. "You ain't got no choice. If you don't do it, we won't be able to trade with none of these tribes for winter supplies. They'll all find out about it and they won't have nothing to do with anybody they think's dishonorable. And, like I told you when we headed here, we can get some of the stuff we need from the traders. But we ain't gonna make it through another season without the food the Indians'll trade for."

  Jon gulped down the remainder of the whiskey and walked over to the fire without looking at the woman again. He squatted and waited until Tall Man took his place across from him. With a nod at the Nez Perce, he indicated for him to take the bones first.

  Tall Man picked up the small stack of white bones and rolled them between his palms. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed them to the
ground between them. A satisfied smile tipped his lips when he looked up at Jon.

  A shadow fell on the pile of bones. Jon's nose told him even before he made out the shape who the shadow belonged to. She had moved around to stand by the fire, the flickering flames casting her outline toward them.

  Tall Man's head came up and he shouted at the woman.

  "Leave her," Jon said in a steely voice, having correctly interpreted Tall Man's order for the woman to move. "She's got an interest in this."

  "Not according to Nez Perce rules, Jon," Silas said as he moved over and took the woman's arms. "It's bad luck for a woman to stand near."

  Tall Man spoke again and Jon looked at Silas.

  "He says it won't be fair to him for you to hold him to that shake if you beat him, since the woman gave him bad luck," Silas explained. "He'll get another shake if he wants it."

  Jon nodded in agreement and picked up the bones. As Silas moved away with the woman, he imitated the Indian's movements, then flicked the delicate white bones to the ground. He heard Tall Man give a whuff of disgust when the Nez Perce saw the winning layout of the bones.

  Jon remained squatting while Tall Man gathered the bones again. The Indian let out a whoop when the bones landed on the ground, but his face quickly clouded over when one bone teetered back and forth for a second. The bone fell toward Jon, and Tall Man quickly fixed his face into an impenetrable mask as he stood.