"Where's the boy?" Silas called.
"In...inside," Caitlyn answered.
Jon glanced at Silas, and Silas nodded.
"Take care of Caitlyn," Jon said.
"I will, boyo."
Jon reined his horse around and kicked it into a gallop. With a half-whine of apology at Caitlyn, the dog took off in a limping run after Jon.
Jon followed the trail easily enough for the first mile or so, since Dog quickly took over the lead, nose to the ground. But as the snow fell more heavily, it began obliterating the signs, and even Dog slowed. He sniffed in one place, then cast in a circle.
Jon glanced ahead of them and saw a freshly-broken twig on a bush. Whistling to Dog, Jon pointed and urged his horse forward. A wind-swept portion of bare ground lay ahead of them, and Dog caught the scent again.
Jon scanned the mountainside ahead as he rode. The traces of hoofprints he followed indicated that the horse was still running full tilt, but there were any number of ambush spots around.
Whoever had attacked Caitlyn didn't have a real good start on Jon and the dog. He had the advantage, though, of not worrying about someone waiting ahead of him. The necessity of assuring himself the man he trailed wasn't hidden in a crevice waiting for him — or didn't circle back like a wounded grizzly on the prowl — slowed Jon's pace.
And the snow fell more thickly, fat flakes as large as silver dollars drifting earthward in a deceptively-lazy spiral. Piling on one another in soft silence, they layered over the leaves and pine needles, covered the trail ahead and behind. They melted on exposed rocks and boulders, which still held remnants of sun rays, but the falling temperature would soon assure a blanket of snow even on those outcroppings.
When Jon found himself straining his eyes as he tried to peer through the snow-streaked openness ahead of him, he reluctantly pulled his horse to a halt. Dog was again casting circles across the trail, having lost the scent again.
Jon didn't know who he was following, or what weapons the attacker might have. His fury and determination to wreak his anger on whoever had left Caitlyn in that stunned, fearful state had carried him this far, but he'd be no use to Caitlyn if he got killed out here. And if he let something happen to that crazy pup she adored....
Jon dismounted and called to the dog. Tongue lolling, the animal limped toward him, favoring one hind leg even more than Jon had noticed before. He knelt and picked Dog up into his arm, prepared to drop him in an instant if he snapped at him as he had on occasion.
But Jon got a slurpy tongue on his face. He laid Dog across the saddle and climbed on behind him.
"No, fella," he said, laying a firm hand on the animal when Dog tried to jump down. "We'll go back and find out if Caitlyn knows who the son of a bitch was. If she does, there won't be a place in heaven or hell where he can hide from me."
Tall Man's exhausted pony stumbled once again, but he whipped it mercilessly across the rump and jerked its head up. At any time he could have turned to confront his pursuer — his bow and arrow quiver were strapped securely on the pony's rump. But still he rode on, chasing the face in his mind — hovering just out of reach.
Shreds of sanity scattered on the wind rushing past him, replaced in his head by the humiliation he had suffered from his tribal members when word of Morning Star's betrayal and disappearance had spread through the camp. Angrily he had turned his back on the offer to return his prize stallion and mares when Morning Star's uncle had extended the lead ropes. Proudly he had endured the council meeting, which had culminated in the treacherous bitch and her lover being designated as shunned — their names never to be spoken again by the Nez Perce.
The pony stumbled a final time and went down. Tall Man leapt from its back as it fell and, ignoring the poor beast's rasping gasps for breath, shook his fist into the falling snow.
"By the spirits of all who have gone before me," he shouted, "I vow vengeance on that cur who deceived me! He will die, or I will not never again walk in oneness with your spirits! The shadow on our name will be gone before I leave this earth! This I say! This I swear! This I vow!"
*****
Over the next few days, whenever she wasn't busy cooking or cleaning, Caitlyn alternately paced the cabin floor and stared out the lone window in the front of the small structure. Once when she reached out to scrub at a film of frost, she remembered how proud Mick had been when he presented her with those two, precious panes of glass one Christmas morning. He would never tell her how he'd managed to come by that glass — probably ordered it at one rendezvous and had a friend pick it up for him the next summer and spirit it out to the cabin to hide until Christmas.
The snow had finally stopped today. The storm never did turn into a full-blown blizzard, merely minuscule white slices gathering into ever deepening, feathery layers. Silvery moonlight bathed the clearing this evening in an almost eerie light, the shadows of tree trunks flickering as the night breeze blew the towering tops of the pines back and forth.
Little Sun stirred and stretched in his crib in front of the fireplace, and Caitlyn instinctively tensed. But she heard him murmur quietly, then turn over to a more comfortable position.
Jon and Silas had built the crib the evening after Little Sun arrived, lining it with a portion of a buffalo hide. At first, Caitlyn had been tempted to place the crib in her own room. It crowded the small front room of the cabin, but placing it by the fireplace assured Little Sun of being warm while he slept. Jon and Silas fed the fire at intervals during the night, though her own room still grew chilly now and then.
She hadn't been sleeping at all well herself, so she heard any sound the little boy made during the night. Just last night he had whimpered the Nez Perce words for mother and father in his sleep, and Caitlyn had padded out to hold him until the dream passed.
Caitlyn watched a snowshoe rabbit hop into the clearing, then turn in a flurry of snow and race back into the underbrush. The owl glided after the rabbit on silent wings, but missed its prey by several inches. Its talons dragged the snow, and it swerved back upwards, into the tree tops.
She barely took note of the life and death confrontation. Behind her, she could hear Silas scraping the tobacco dregs from the pipe he had taken to smoking in the evenings, and Jon's barely audible humming as he worked on a pair of snowshoes Silas was teaching him to make.
That darned nightmare was back. She rigidly fought sleep each night, knowing that soon after she fell into the darkness it would wake her in soundless, screaming fright.
She thought she knew what had brought it on. Any time she had been close to a small child in earlier years it had returned. But why, then, hadn't it started as soon as Spirit Eagle left his son with her? Why hadn't it begun until after Tall Man showed up, leaving behind a large chink in her self-assurance?
She'd never been so afraid in her life as when Tall Man glared at her from across the clearing. She looked at the spot where he had sat on his horse and shivered slightly. Could it have been the thought of not only having to protect herself, but also the small, defenseless child in the cabin?
Caitlyn closed her eyes for a brief second, fighting once more the growing resentment she felt against Little Sun. She thought she had covered it up fairly well. She still cared for him, made sure he was clean and well fed. But last night, when she had picked him up to comfort him, the little boy must have felt the stiffness in her arms and lack of conviction in her voice.
He had stared up at her, his small face outlined in the dancing firelight, whimpering and struggling to be laid back down. After she placed him back in the crib, he turned and curled away from her. With a sigh, she had covered him once more and returned to bed, wondering what she would do when Silas and Jon left for the traplines, leaving her solely in charge of Little Sun once more.
Lying wide-eyed in the darkness, she had resisted the exhaustion with every fiber of her being. She realized she had succumbed to sleep only when she sat up in bed, beads of sweat covering her forehead and her mouth straining in achin
g openness.
"Cat," Silas said. "Where'd you hide the tobacco?"
Caitlyn turned from the window. "Right where I always hide it," she said with an attempt at a smile. "Beside the coffee."
"That there's almost gone. I know I bought some at rendezvous this past summer."
Caitlyn walked over to the lower shelf beside the fireplace, where she had stored some of the extra supplies. "Well, I'd hope you bought another supply for yourself. You never smoked this much before."
"Don't smoke when I'm out huntin' — scares off the animals. But there ain't much to do around here right now. And when my feet get itchy, smokin' seems to calm them down."
With a tolerant smile, Caitlyn handed Silas a brown-paper wrapped parcel. "This is yours. It felt like tobacco when I put it away."
The fire flared up and Jon studied Caitlyn's face. Dark shadows lay under those beautiful eyes, highlighting their blueness, and her cheekbones stood out. He could almost swear she had lost weight in the past three days.
She had brushed him off whenever he tried to talk to her, though. As small as the cabin was, Jon wouldn't have believed it possible for Caitlyn to avoid him, but she did. She carried an impenetrable armor around with her, appearing pleasant enough on the surface — but any time he or Silas got within a foot or two of her, she found something to do on the other side of the room.
She refused to discuss what had happened to her beyond informing them that it had been Tall Man who had been there. Maybe she had told Silas a little more before Jon returned after losing the Indian's trail — there hadn't been any privacy for him to talk to the old man yet.
Some other decisions had to be made, also. They couldn't leave Caitlyn and Little Sun alone here at the cabin while they set out and ran the traplines. There were only two rifles for the three of them, and neither he nor Silas would feel comfortable out in the wilderness without a gun. Who knew whether Tall Man had left, or was still skulking around?
Little Sun let out a brief howl, and Jon saw Caitlyn grow rigid. That had changed, too, the last three days. She also avoided the little boy whenever possible.
"Take care of him, will you, Silas?" Caitlyn said as she headed toward the door to grab her wolfskin jacket. "I need to go to the outhouse."
Jon threw aside the snowshoe and stood, reaching for his rifle, propped in the corner by his bunk. He didn't forbid Caitlyn to go out alone, but as soon as the door closed behind her, he opened it and stepped halfway out to watch her. He heard Silas at the crib, cooing and nudging it to rock it, and opened the door a little farther when Dog bumped at his leg.
"Is he going back to sleep?" Jon asked over his shoulder.
"Yeah, he always does," Silas replied.
Jon waited until Caitlyn closed the outhouse door and Dog laid down in the snow in front of the building before he spoke again. "What are we going to do, Silas?"
Silas gave a deep sigh. "Reckon I'm as worried about her as you are, boyo. One thing for sure, we can't leave her here while we run our lines. She'll have to come along with us."
"A few days ago, I'd have said that Caitlyn would throw a fit if we tried to keep her with one or the other of us all the time. But she's scared, Silas. What the hell did that bastard do to her? She won't talk to me."
"Me neither. I been trying to piece it together in my mind, but there's a piece here and there missin'. You heard the story of Spirit Eagle and Morning Star yet?"
"No," Jon admitted.
Silas briefly related the tale to Jon — a story that had spread through the mountains with the speed of wildfire as soon as it happened. Anger slowly seeped through Jon's mind, and not just at Caitlyn's foolishness in making an enemy of Tall Man.
She must have some awfully strong feelings for Spirit Eagle to take a chance like that. Though Silas said that Caitlyn's involvement with Morning Star's escape from marriage to a man she didn't love had never been proven, what else could explain the mess they found themselves in now?
Shunned by his own people, Spirit Eagle had brought his son to a woman he knew would care for the boy — Caitlyn, who had shared his childhood. What else had been between the Indian man and Caitlyn? Had she maybe chosen him for her own, then stepped aside in the name of love when her friend, Morning Star, fell in love with the warrior?
Caitlyn emerged from the small building, but instead of returning to the cabin, she walked several yards away and stared across the clearing. She crossed her arms in front of her, her head leaning slightly toward one shoulder as though she were contemplating her thoughts — or missing someone.
Missing Spirit Eagle? Had her withdrawal from Little Sun the last few days been due to her distaste at handling the son of the other woman her Indian love had married? Had she vowed not to marry because she knew no one could ever take his place?
Now that he was free, did she plan to make another attempt to win his love?
"Jon...ah...." Silas stopped beside Jon, and took a drag on his pipe. He glanced out the doorway, a worried frown on his face.
"What is it, Silas?"
"Maybe you ought to shut that door. Don't want it to get chilled in here."
Jon swung the door to, but left a crack through which he could peer out at Caitlyn.
"That better, Silas?"
"Yeah. Listen, boyo, I...."
"Spit it out, Silas. What's on your mind?"
Silas bit his pipe stem for a moment, then pulled the pipe from his mouth. "Look, Jon, I've told you time and again how much I like to be by myself in these here mountains. But we gotta run them trap lines every day, or ain't no use even settin' them out. Wolverines and wolves'll tear up our pelts, we don't get to them right away."
"Get to the point, Silas. I know all that."
"One of us is gonna have to take Cat and the boy along," Silas finally grumbled.
"And you'd rather it be me than you that they go with?"
"Well, yeah, boyo. I know I'm the one who took Cat on. And she's under my pertection. But...."
A smile crawled over Jon's face. "You owe me for this, Silas."
Silas chuckled under his breath. Oh no, Jon, my boy. This is one you owe me.
****
Chapter 17
Little Sun chortled and clapped his mittened hands as the sled bounced along behind Dog. As soon as he had laid eyes on the sled several mornings ago, he had exhibited a stubborn streak that seldom surfaced. Twisting and squirming in Caitlyn's arms, where she held him on the pinto's back, he had made it clear that the sled would be what he rode on — pulled by his friend, Dog, of course.
Dog padded tolerantly in the harness, following the trail broken by Jon's horse, and Caitlyn's heart melted as she looked at the little boy's bundled-up body, tucked into the buffalo robe.
She'd made him a pair of rabbit-fur-lined moccasins, wolfskin leggings and a small, wolfskin jacket to match her own. She'd unravelled one of Jon's red, knit hats, studying the stitches as she went so she could refashion it into a smaller version for Little Sun.
But that had been a waste of time. She laughed silently to herself. Dressed in his new togs, Little Sun had seemed to realize just what they were for. He'd toddled over to where Silas hung his wolfskin hat and pointed up at it in a determined manner. Then he'd pulled the knit hat from his head and dropped it on the floor.
"Hat," he'd said clearly. "My hat."
Silas had given in graciously and a smaller hat, made from Silas's extra hat in his pack, now perched on Little Sun's head, the shortened tail bouncing in rhythm with the sled.
The nightmares had finally fled. Shoot, who could dream when she fell into bed each night happily tired from days spent out in the wilderness she loved?
She and Jon ran the two, shorter traplines, varying their path each day. They arrived back at the cabin in late afternoon, spending the evenings curing the furs. Now and then they had to devote an entire day at the cabin to tanning, if Silas brought in an especially large load of furs, but even those days were a welcome break in their daily lives.<
br />
She'd pushed Tall Man into the back of her mind, telling herself he wouldn't be foolish enough to attempt anything with Jon always near. He was probably back at his winter camp. Surely he wouldn't be stupid enough to try to winter out here on his own.
The nagging thought that kept her from complete contentment was her knowledge of an Indian's patience. After living among them all her life, she knew a warrior would wait months, even years, to avenge himself.
Jon led the way to a sheltered nook, where he had stored dry wood inside a small cave in the mountainside. They usually stopped here for their noon meal, and remnants of previous fires lay inside a stone ring.
As usual, too, Jon swung down and came over to help Caitlyn from her pinto. She gave in with a sigh. No matter how many times she told him she could get off that darned horse on her own, he ignored her. And no matter how many times she decided that she wasn't going to react this time, she slid down against his body and allowed him to hold her for that extra-long second.
"Cold?" he murmured, his palms rubbing up and down the back of her jacket..
Cold? How could she be cold standing this close to him? She shook her head slightly, hands still on his shoulders and head tilted back a little. His face was always so close to her own when he held her like this, and he usually....
She parted her lips and gave a little sigh as Jon bent his head. His lips met hers gently, but briefly, before he stepped away.
"Let me know if you get cold, honey," he said, then walked over to the fire site.
Caitlyn glared at him. He must have kissed her three dozen times like that since they started running the lines — not that she was keeping count.
The first time he took her by surprise. He hadn't pressed the matter then, either, just sipped a kiss, then gone on about the fire building business. And despite her wariness from then on, he wouldn't turn her loose until he got his kiss.
He never demanded it in words — instead, he waited patiently until Caitlyn gave in and tilted her head up. Darn it, why didn't he just take one good long kiss and make it last all day?
Mountain Magic Page 17
