Mountain Magic

by Simmons, Trana Mae

  "Got me an invite to Virginie all of my own, Cat." Silas tossed her a smirk through his beard. "Reckon to spend me some time being waited on and pampered 'til I decide it's time to come back out here and check on Little Sun. Spin me some tall yarns with my partner. 'Sides, I gotta take Jon his marker for his share of the furs. We agreed I'd do that a'for he lit out."

  "Well, you do what you have to do," Caitlyn grumbled around the stab of torment whenever she heard his name. "Let's get on down there and sell our furs before the traders give all the best prices to the trappers who got here ahead of us."

  She picked up the lead rope of her pack horse again and kneed her pinto forward. "And I have to find Sky Woman and let her know what happened to Tall Man."

  "She probably won't be none too surprised," Silas said as he rode beside her. "That Indian always was meant for a bad end."

  "He was still family to her, Silas. We don't get to pick and choose who our family is."

  "I ain't quite in agreement with that, Cat. We had us a nice little family going up there on that mountain, 'til you...."

  "Damn it, Silas!" Caitlyn turned in her saddle to glare at him. "You don't know a darned thing about my reason for not marrying Jon! And I'm not going to discuss it with you!"

  "Yeah, and far's I know, you didn't discuss it with Jon, neither. You growed up into a woman over the past winter, Cat. You sure did. A woman who ain't got the sense God give a goose!"

  Caitlyn drew in a furious breath, but Silas held up a hand to forestall her words.

  "You ain't got Ol' Mick around to tell you when you're makin' a bad mistake, Cat. And I figure it's part of the responsibility I took on with you to tell you when you're bein' a dadblamed fool. And I aim to keep on tellin' you it 'til you get it into that danged fool woman's brain of yours!"

  "I don't have to listen to you, Silas. Consider me out from under your 'pertection' as of right now! Paw would understand. He told me there would be times when I'd have to hurt people I loved for their own good!"

  "So you still love him, huh?" Silas asked in a milder voice.

  Caitlyn's shoulders slumped and she thinned her lips, biting back her retort. She urged the pinto into a trot, but Silas stayed beside her.

  "Answer me, Caitlyn O'Neal," Silas demanded.

  Caitlyn shot him an angry glare. "I still love him! There, does that satisfy you? And because I love him, I'm not going to marry him. Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Now, will you leave me alone?"

  "Nope," Silas said. "I got no intentions of leavin' you alone, Cat. And you can smoke on that 'til it comes out your ears, you're of a mind to."

  "Wasn't almost getting killed over me once enough for you, Silas?" Caitlyn pleaded.

  "Guess not," Silas said with a shrug. He faced forward on his horse again and ignored her, whistling a tune that announced them as they rode toward rendezvous.

  At least there would be a different campsite this year — a different pond to bathe in. The traders held the annual gathering at various places in the mountains each year, yet somehow word always spread through the mountains as to where the rendezvous site would be that summer.

  Caitlyn never understood why they changed the site yearly, since almost the same people came to the trading fair year after year — season after season. The same mountain men, except for those who hadn't made it through the winter, like Mick last year, or a new face here and there, like Jon last summer.

  The same Indian tribes, with a few elderly faces missing, replaced by new babies peering from their mother's backboards. The war-like Blackfeet never came, of course. Mick had told her once that the Blackfeet seers believed the whites would eventually overrun their hunting grounds and thought tribes like the Nez Perce and Sioux foolish for allowing the trading with the whites.

  She and Mick had discussed that once or twice. He'd told her that the trading with the Indians had been going on since the first white foot stepped onto American shores. And, yes, the land to the east had been taken from the Indians after a lot of bloody wars. In this vast wilderness out here, though, surely there was enough land for the two races to coexist in peace.

  She wasn't quite as sure about that this year as last year, before she had read Jon's books and realized just how many people had arrived in America. But she could still almost make herself believe that whites and Indians could live together in peace. The Indians wanted the trade goods brought in — some of them even trapped furs, though they didn't trap as heavily as the white men they allowed free rein in the wilderness.

  As they rode closer to the thousands of tipis, traders' tents and mountain men's campsites, Caitlyn glanced at the mountains beyond. Even this huge gathering was only a tiny speck in all the vastness around them. Surely there was enough land here for everyone.

  Caitlyn finally gave up fighting the memories that rode with her. When she left again in a day or two, she might never see this land again. She'd gone to Mick's grave one last time, trying without success to gain an answer as to whether she had made the right decision. But the cold cairn of stones didn't respond.

  Spirit Eagle had told her almost the same thing that Silas kept nagging her about — only in different terms. He reminded her that he and Morning Star had stood together during the time they were allowed to share their love. She hadn't told her friend, either, her reason for cutting Jon out of her life. And Spirit Eagle had that superior smirk on his face when he refused to tell her goodbye — told her that her heart was in these mountains, and that he and Little Sun would see her again.

  "Reckon this looks like the best spot we'll get to set up camp, Cat," Silas said as he led the way into a grove of trees. "All the spots closer to the tradin' tents are already took. But I can hear water over there, and there's shade here, if it gets hot."

  Caitlyn shrugged her shoulders and dismounted. Even if somewhat inconvenient, the camp would serve for a day or so — all the longer she would be here. She could get a map from one of the traders to show her the trail back to St. Louis. Probably, though, all she would really have to do would be follow their recently-flattened path out here.

  She had a vague idea about where St. Louis lay — somewhere east, on the other side of a river called the Mississippi. And Jon had said it could take them up to two months to travel that far.

  While Silas cut pine boughs and fashioned two lean-tos where they could sleep that night, Caitlyn unloaded the horses and gathered firewood. Now and then, hints of the rendezvous activities drifted toward them on the wind. A shout of laughter, rifle shots from a marksman contest, the smell of food from the cooking tents. Her stomach growled — not really from hunger, since she and Silas had shared breakfast a couple hours earlier. But there would be food at the tents that she hadn't tasted all winter. Fresh ham and bacon — maybe some eggs.

  A vision of the orange Jon had promised to buy her last summer wavered in the flames as she fed the fire. Guess he had forgotten, because they'd left rendezvous without that treat. Maybe she would get one for herself, she thought as she swallowed against the moisture in her mouth, recalling Jon telling her how delicious that fruit was.

  "Gonna get me a bath and a change of clothes a'for I go down there and find me a jug, Cat," Silas said. "How 'bout you?"

  Caitlyn glanced down at her tattered dress. Even the sturdy buckskin clothing showed signs of wear and tear every spring.

  "I've got on a good enough best dress for now. I'll find another one already made up at an Indian tent."

  "You wear that dress down there, Cat, you sit down and sew up that rip on the front of it first. Otherwise, you'll wait here in camp 'til I go find you somethin' more decent to wear."

  "Silas, you're not going to order me around again this year! I'll do what I please!"

  "You just try goin' down there 'mong all them men with that torn up dress on. I ain't so old I can't haul your little fanny back here and spank some sense into you — at least 'bout that, even if you won't listen 'bout the other thing."

  "Leave it alone, Sil
as."

  "Nope. Ain't gonna do it." Silas propped his hands on his hips and thrust out his chest. "Done told you that. Now, you wanna stand here talkin' 'bout Jon, or you gonna find something decent to wear, so I don't have to tie you to a tree while I'm gone?"

  "You'd probably try to do it, too, wouldn't you?"

  "Wouldn't try — it'd get done. You give me your word you'll stay here while I get my bath."

  Caitlyn shot him a smirk of defiance and Silas moved faster than she would have thought possible. He grabbed her by the waist and started dragging her toward a tree. She fought and twisted in his grasp, but the old man had muscles of steel from all his years in the wilderness.

  Suddenly picturing in her mind what they must look like — this old, grey-bearded reprobate dragging a young woman with him — she collapsed in giggles. Ceasing her resistance, she swatted at Silas's hands.

  "All right, all right," she said around her giggles. "I'll wait until we get our baths, Silas."

  Silas stepped back from her with a frown. "And?"

  "And I'll find something decent to wear," Caitlyn agreed.

  "Your word, Cat."

  "Dash nab it, Silas! Go get your darned bath and let me get ready, too. Otherwise, you're gonna be waiting until hell freezes over before you get your jug!"

  Silas crossed his arms over his chest and stood without moving. He glanced at the tree, then back at Caitlyn.

  "You've got my dadblasted word!" Caitlyn shouted after a second.

  Silas stifled the chuckle in his chest as he dropped his arms and walked away. If that's what it took to bring Caitlyn out of those danged doldrums she'd been lost in the last few weeks, he'd fight and argue with her every waking moment. He much preferred the Cat who forgot her proper English and reminded him of the little ruffian he had first seen to that silent, morose Cat.

  And maybe if he got her mind working again instead of leaving her sunk in whatever danged fool notion made her decide to give up Jon, she'd do some more thinking. Little Sun was growing fast, and he had an itch to bounce a new baby on his knee while rocked in front of a fireplace. The new baby he wanted had blue eyes, since both Jon and Cat's eyes were blue. He didn't much care whether it was a girl or a boy, but he could get neither until Cat got back with Jon, so Jon could father that baby.

  Before they left rendezvous, too, he was going to find out just what stupidity Cat had in her mind that made her send Jon away. Even if he had to still tie her to that tree and wait for her to talk.

  As soon as Silas disappeared, Caitlyn dug into her pack, knowing already she only had two choices as to what Silas would find acceptable for her to wear. She hadn't been able to bring herself to leave Jon's shirt behind when she found it stuffed back in a corner of the shelf after he left. But as she held it up, a thrust of had agony stabbed her.

  Still, she only had one dress she would consider wearing — the one Jon bought her last summer. She hadn't worn it much over the winter, thinking it too nice to work in. It would tear her up even more to wear that dress. Every swish of fringe on her legs would remind her of Jon.

  Her britches were in fair repair, and the shirt would hang down far enough to cover that stain on the front of them. She'd shoved the beaded belt into one of the pockets on the pack.

  Hearing a footstep, Caitlyn jumped to her feet and whirled, her hand going to the knife on her belt. The tall Indian who walked toward her smiled and held his hands out to his sides.

  "Hello, Reach for the Moon," Caitlyn said, returning his smile and dropping her hand from the knife. "How have you been?"

  "I have had a good winter," Reach for the Moon said. "I do not see your wedding present here."

  Caitlyn quickly explained that she had left Dog with Little Sun, then offered the Sioux a seat.

  Reach for the Moon shook his head. "I have come to see Swift Feet. I saw you both riding down the ridge earlier."

  "He's over there in that stream, taking a bath."

  The Sioux walked away, and Caitlyn knelt again by her pack.

  Fifteen minutes or so later, Caitlyn stalked around the campsite, waiting for Silas to return. Darn it, he and Reach for the Moon could talk just as well back here, while she washed herself. She'd heard bursts of laughter twice, and just knew the two men were sitting over there enjoying themselves, while she stewed at the delay.

  Caitlyn finally grabbed up her clothing and a bar of soap. Just as she started toward the stream to hurry Silas along, he and Reach for the Moon reappeared. Silas wore the shirt she had made him for Christmas, the matching one from the trio she had decorated for him, Little Sun...and Jon.

  "You can go wash now, Cat," Silas said, sneaking a mysterious smirk at his companion. "What'd you decide to wear?"

  "Something that will cover me to your satisfaction, Silas," she replied. "I'll be back in a lot shorter time than it took you to bathe."

  Silas planted himself in the path and shook his head. "Not 'til you show me what you're wearin', Cat."

  "Dang it, Silas...." Caitlyn swallowed her exasperation when Silas crossed his arms over his chest again. With a glare of defiance at him for his audacity in attempting to judge her choice, she shook out the white shirt, then pulled the britches from her shoulder and held them up.

  "Nope. That won't do, Cat." Caitlyn's eyes narrowed further when Silas glanced up at the tall Sioux. "Won't do at all, will it, Reach for the Moon?"

  "No," the Indian agreed. "But you have much to learn about how to get a woman to do what you want, Swift Feet. It is no wonder you do not have a woman to warm your bed."

  "Get out of my way, both of you," Caitlyn ground out.

  Instead of moving, Reach for the Moon pulled something from his shirt pocket. He held it out on his palm under Silas's nose, and the old man sniffed at it.

  "Smells right perty," Silas said. "Not that I'd wanna wash myself with a piece of soap that smelled like roses, but Cat here might like it."

  Reach for the Moon quirked an eyebrow at Caitlyn, and she stared longingly at the bar of soap in his hand — thought of the bar of raw lye soap wrapped in her towel with her comb.

  "Where'd you get that?" Silas asked as he watched Caitlyn closely. "Been tradin' already?"

  "It was given to me by someone," Reach for the Moon explained. "And I would gift it to Mick's daughter. But a woman who uses this should look like a woman, as she smells. She should not wear a man's clothing."

  Caitlyn gave Reach for the Moon a grudging smile and wadded up the shirt and britches. "You could learn a thing or two about getting your own way from him, Silas."

  "Person ain't never too old to learn, Cat," Silas said with another mysterious smirk. "Or too young."

  Shaking her head at the two men, Caitlyn went back to her pack. Instead of the dress Jon had given her, though, she removed the dress Sky Woman had thrust into her hands before they parted. Removing it from the layer of protective buckskin, she held up the white, doeskin dress, decorated with pale blue beads and porcupine quills dyed to match.

  "Will this do?" she asked.

  "Perfect," Silas said.

  He and Reach for the Moon stepped to the side of the path as Caitlyn approached. The Sioux handed Caitlyn the soap, and she walked a few steps past them before she turned, holding the soap safely behind her.

  "Thank you," she told the Indian. "Now, what's going on here that you're not telling me?"

  "Why, Cat," Silas said in a wounded voice. "We just want you to look nice when we go into rendezvous. Don't you remember me sayin' you'd growed up into a woman over the winter?"

  "I also remember you telling me what sort of woman you thought I'd grown into, Silas."

  "Aw, Cat, maybe I was wrong. We all make mistakes now and then."

  Caitlyn glared suspiciously at the two men, but finally turned and headed for the stream, sniffing deeply of the bar of rose-scented soap as she walked. Behind her, she could have sworn she heard two snorts of muffled laughter, but she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of turning to confront them
again.

  ****

  Chapter 32

  Caitlyn combed through one final snarl and shook her hair back over her shoulders. She had washed her hair yesterday, but been tempted to rewash it with the scented soap. It would take too long to dry, though, and she had already lingered longer than it had taken Silas to bathe, lathering her body once, then unable to refrain from doing it again.

  She debated braiding her hair, but left it loose. Laying the comb down on the rock beside her soiled clothing, she ran her hands down the sides of the white doeskin and fiercely gulped back a sob. She had meant to wear this dress if she and Jon found a minister before they arrived in St. Louis, where she could get more proper attire. But now that she had made the mistake of letting Silas and Reach for the Moon see it, she'd have a devil of a time convincing them that she wanted to change again.

  One thing she would do before she left rendezvous was give this dress back to Sky Woman as a final symbol of her plans for a life with Jon having ended. She had enough memories — she didn't need any physical reminders of her lost dreams.

  Silas didn't try to hide the jug when Caitlyn walked into the campsite and saw him and the Sioux sitting by the fire. He just winked at Caitlyn and said, "Reach for the Moon brought me a present, too. Left it behind a tree 'til he could give it to me in private."

  "Well, maybe I'd like a drink," Caitlyn said.

  "Reckon that'll be all right, 'specially today," Silas said as he stood held out the tin cup in his hand. When Caitlyn shot him a distrustful look, he hurried on to say, "It's our first day at rendezvous. First day always gets celebrated with a drink."

  "More than one usually," Caitlyn said with a tolerant smile as she accepted the cup. She took a tentative sip, almost spitting the bitter brew out before she could swallow it. But when Silas laughed and reached for the cup, she shook her head and finished the inch or so of liquor.

  "You sure do look perty, Cat," Silas said after Caitlyn lowered the cup.