Mountain Magic

by Simmons, Trana Mae

"Thank you," Caitlyn murmured. "Now, can we go on in and check out what the furs are bringing this summer?"

  "We can go on in," Silas agreed. "Say, you gonna wear some shoes with that dress?"

  Caitlyn closed her eyes briefly in annoyance, but then handed Silas the cup and walked over to her pack. With the moccasins that matched the dress in her hand, she started to sit down to pull them on.

  "Whoa, Cat!" Silas jumped forward and grabbed her arm. "Here. Sit on this blanket over here. You don't wanna get that pretty dress dirty on the ground."

  He led her over to the blanket he'd been sitting on and gently shoved her to the ground. Racing over to the damp towel she had tossed over a limb to dry, he carried it back to her.

  "Better wipe your feet off," he said. "They got sort of dirty walking back here from the stream."

  Caitlyn gritted her teeth and took the towel. Was this the same Silas that she'd had to threaten to lock outside if he didn't at least take his weekly bath? As he stood beside her, she caught a faint hint of a smell and paused in wiping off her feet.

  "Since when did you start wearing after shave, Silas? You don't even shave."

  "Oh, Jon left some at the cabin and I thought it might make me smell good to the women," Silas told her, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth as he gazed over her head instead of into her face.

  Caitlyn shoved her feet into the moccasins and stood. "I'm going into rendezvous. Right now. Are you two coming?"

  "Sure are." Silas picked up the jug again. "Reckon we're as ready as we can ever be." He slipped Reach for the Moon a sly look. "All three of us."

  Tossing her head and sending the shimmering mass of raven hair dancing down her back, Caitlyn snorted at them and strode out of the campsite. As she passed the first wigwam on the edge of the gathering, Reach for the Moon's daughter stepped out of the entrance and smiled shyly at her. Caitlyn returned her smile, and the girl walked over to her father, joining their small group.

  A few seconds later, Caitlyn's steps faltered and slowed. It must be that darned dress. The Indian women wore tan buckskin, and her white dress stood out like a beacon. Every person she passed — some she knew, some she didn't — smiled or waved at her. A couple of the women hid a giggle behind a raised hand.

  Ahead of her, Caitlyn noticed people beginning to gather in groups lining the path she walked. Glancing over her shoulder, she stumbled to a stop. The silent group trailing behind her numbered close to fifty people.

  She flashed Silas an irritated glare. "What's going on here?"

  Silas ignored her and pulled his pipe from his shirt pocket. "Dern, I forgot I'm out of tobaccy. You got any, Reach for the Moon?"

  The Sioux handed him a pouch, and Silas busied himself opening the drawstring and poking his pipe inside.

  Caitlyn gritted her teeth and turned around. She walked a few more feet, then caught sight of a trader's flag flying over a tent behind the people lining her path. Excusing herself, she shoved through the crowd and went over to the tent.

  The lone man behind the wooden shelf displaying the trade goods ducked under the counter as she approached.

  "Sorry, miss," he said, tipping his hat to her. "We're closed right now, until after the wedding."

  "What wedding?" Caitlyn asked with a frown.

  Silas grabbed her arm and pulled her after him, and Reach for the Moon fell in on her other side.

  "Stop it, Silas," she demanded. "Where do you think you're taking me?"

  "Figured we might as well go watch this wedding," Silas replied. "Won't get no tradin' done 'til after it's over."

  "Silas, I'm not interested in going to a wedding." She jerked her arm free, and heard Reach for the Moon give a deep sigh beside her. The tall Sioux bent and scooped her into his arms.

  "Put me down, dash nab it!" Caitlyn struggled and pounded on Reach for the Moon's chest, but he continued to stride forward. One of her moccasins went flying, and Silas shook his head as he grabbed it up and followed them.

  "Put me down!" Caitlyn screeched, then suddenly fell silent as she realized her voice was the only sound in the stillness. She stiffened in the Sioux's arms and stared around her.

  "She does not go willingly to her man," a voice murmured in Nez Perce, "but her beauty will make taming her worth the fight."

  Caitlyn glared at the man as they passed. Then she glanced up at Reach for the Moon in horror.

  "What did he mean?" she asked.

  But Sky Woman stepped out of the crowd, and Reach for the Moon gratefully set Caitlyn on the ground and backed away. Silas shoved her moccasin into her hand and followed the Sioux, chortling under his breath and dancing a little jig that sent up dust puffs.

  "My daughter, I knew you would be beautiful on this day," Sky Woman said, holding out her arms for Caitlyn.

  With a whimper of confusion, Caitlyn ran into her embrace. She hugged the woman she had called mother tightly for several seconds, before stepping back and allowing her turmoil and embarrassment to show on her face.

  "My mother, I don't know what they're doing to me. Please. Take me somewhere we can talk."

  "There is another waiting to speak to you first, daughter. He has waited many days, and he is anxious to see you. Go now."

  Sky Woman took Caitlyn by the shoulders and turned her around, giving her a little shove. Caitlyn stared wildly around her, unsure which direction to go. Then she felt Sky Woman's hand on her shoulder again.

  "Wait, daughter. Here."

  Sky Woman knelt, and Caitlyn glanced down and lifted her foot to slip the moccasin back on. When she looked up again, Jon stood barely six feet away.

  "Hello, darlin'," he murmured.

  Caitlyn's mouth went dry, and she licked her lips with a tongue as powdery as the dust Silas had kicked up. She fought the urge to run to him with every bit of willpower she could dredge up, but her willpower fell far short. With a glad cry, she ran into his arms.

  Jon grabbed her up and whirled her around, but when he set her down and she turned her face up for his kiss, he covered her mouth with a finger.

  "The next kiss I give you is going to be as my wife, sweetheart. There's a minister waiting over there for us."

  "Jon, I can't...." she began with a whimper of pain.

  "Listen to me for once in your life, Caitlyn," Jon ordered in a stern voice. "And you remember this — this is the last time I expect to have to read your mind and try to figure out what's going on inside your head. From now on, if you refuse to talk to me about something, I'm going to tie you to our bed until you do talk."

  "That's better than the tree Silas was going to tie me to," Caitlyn grumbled with a pout.

  Sneaking a look around her from beneath her lashes, Caitlyn saw the crowd of people still surrounding them, listening avidly to every word.

  "Jon, can't we go somewhere else and talk?"

  "Nope. These people are going to be part of our life from now on, since I've bought a share in one of the trading companies. We'll be coming out here each summer to trade with them. And they've helped me plan this wedding."

  "Jon! But your family at the plantation...and...Jon, damn it, I can't marry...!"

  Jon threw her over his shoulder and strode through the crowd. Caitlyn screeched and pounded on his back, biting back her next scream when she heard the women's titters and men's laughter behind her. Shoving aside her hair, she craned her neck and saw the crowd following them yet again.

  "Darn fool women," she heard Jon mutter. "First you can't get them to talk, then you can't get them to shut up."

  "Put me down, Jon Clay," Caitlyn ground out.

  Jon complied at once, and Caitlyn staggered a step until she caught her balance. When she glared up at Jon, furious daggers of blue rage spitting from her eyes, he gripped her arms and held her gaze steadily.

  "This is a time to listen again, Caitlyn," he said. "There's someone else here you need to meet."

  Caitlyn swept her arms up, dislodging Jon's grasp. "I'm not going to marry you
, Jon," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and sticking her lower lip out mutinously.

  "Oh, lord." Jon raised his eyes skyward for a brief second. "This is going to be some marriage."

  "I'm not...!"

  "Ye're surely gonna have yer hands full, son," a soft voice said. "She's the spittin' image of me darlin' Mauvreen."

  Caitlyn gasped. Hair flying, she whirled on the new voice, only to have Jon grab her around the waist and clap one hard palm across her mouth.

  "I told you it's time to listen now, damn it," Jon growled. "And listen you will."

  Caitlyn couldn't have spoken even without Jon's hand on her mouth. She stared at the tall, white-haired man before her. A dim memory came back to her of this same man and her mother, yelling and screaming at each other in the huge, stone hall of a castle.

  The man had been younger then — salt and pepper rather than snow white hair. But he had the same brilliant blue eyes and stern chin. The voice had roared in anger that time, but she seemed to recall other times, when he spoke as softly as he just had.

  "I'm ye're grandda, Caitlyn," he said now in a hesitant voice. "Sean Keefe. Do ye remember me?"

  Caitlyn managed to nod her head, and Jon loosened his grasp on her mouth. He eased his hand away, but kept it near her face, ready, she realized, to cover her mouth again if she said the wrong thing.

  "I...." She cleared her throat. "I remember. You and my mother fought. I...was listening — up on the stairwell."

  Tears misted the old man's eyes, and he nodded his head. "I ran her off, and it near broke me heart. Tried to find her, I did, to tell her to come home. Bring her young man with her. And ye, a'course. Didn't...didn't know about the other wee one until I learned how she died."

  "But you tried to have me killed, too."

  "Nay, child," Keefe denied. "T'was another big mistake I made, trustin' ye're cousin Patrick — me only nephew — to handle the search for ye, after I found out two years ago ye were still alive. He would've taken it all after I died, ye see, had I not found me darlin' grandchild."

  "I don't know that I believe you," Caitlyn said. "And, even if I do, I don't know that I can forgive you. My mother and father died because you wouldn't accept their marriage and they had to leave Ireland."

  The old man's head bowed, and his shoulders shook. A tear crawled down his face, and Caitlyn noticed the discoloration on his weathered cheek, which looked like a fading bruise.

  "What happened to his face?" she asked Jon quietly.

  "I didn't give him much of a chance to explain himself when I found him here at rendezvous looking for you," Jon replied. "But Sean had already been talking to Reach for the Moon, telling him the real reason he'd been searching for you. Reach for the Moon dragged me off Sean before I could beat him to death."

  Caitlyn remained silent, watching her grandfather turn his back and draw out a handkerchief from his pocket.

  Jon continued, "Sean found a report that Hogan sent back to your cousin. After he read it, he realized that his nephew had been trying to find you to kill you, instead of begging you to come back to Ireland."

  Jon grasped Caitlyn's shoulders and turned her to face him. "Darlin', he came over here to find you himself. And Patrick's dead. They fought, and Patrick pulled a knife, trying to kill Sean. Sean's butler shot Patrick before he could stab Sean."

  Caitlyn heard her grandfather's gruff voice again, and stiffened when his hand fell on her shoulder.

  "I don't blame ye, me wee little darlin'. I can't forgive meself, either. Mauvreen was the pride o' me heart, and I failed her. Tried to force her to my way, when I knew all along she had her mother's stubbornness and would only marry again for love — like me and your gramma did."

  He dropped his hand and Caitlyn said without facing him, "You...used to call me that."

  "Me wee little darlin'? Ye were, Caitlyn. Ye'll always be that to me, no matter if you hate me forever."

  Caitlyn took a deep breath and glanced up at Jon. "I didn't want to marry you, because I was afraid whoever was trying to kill me would come after you — and our children."

  "I thought it might be something like that," Jon said with a nod. "But from now on, we face things together."

  "Yes, Jon," she murmured.

  Sean gave a wry chuckle. "Take me words as a weddin' gift, son," he said to Jon. "The Keefe women only say yes when they really mean it."

  Holding Caitlyn in one arm, Jon clasped Sean's hand when he held it out.

  "Will ye at least write to me, Jon?" Sean asked.

  "I'll write," Jon promised. "But aren't you staying for the wedding?"

  "No. I won't ruin me wee darlin's day. I'll get started on back. Take care of her, son. And if some day she finds it in her heart to forgive me...."

  "I'll let you know," Jon said.

  When she finally heard Sean's retreating footsteps, Caitlyn turned to watch him leave. The tall figure walked with shoulders hunched, his hands in his pockets. He looked smaller than she remembered him, when he would reach down and pick her up — toss her into the air with her skirts flying, as her mother laughed tolerantly at the side of the room.

  Then her grandfather's eyes would sparkle with laughter, not the tears she had seen a moment ago. His voice would boom out, echoing from the rafters when he called her his wee darlin', instead of cracking with gruff torment.

  "Jon," she whispered. "Did he tell you why he refused to give his consent to my mother marrying my stepfather? Why they ran away?"

  "Yes. Your stepfather, James, was a younger son, Caitlyn. He didn't have any prospects, and he'd already decided to come to America and try to make his fortune in the fur trade. Sean didn't want your mother to leave — she was his only child. Sean offered James a share in his own holdings — told him that since he didn't have a male heir, it would all be Mauvreen's someday anyway."

  "Why didn't my stepfather accept it?" Caitlyn asked.

  "Pride, I guess. Male pride takes over instead of common sense sometimes, darlin'." He tilted Caitlyn's chin up. "My own stupid pride sent me away from you, instead of staying there and working things out. Making you tell me what was bothering you. It hurt like hell when you said you wouldn't marry me — hurt my pride that you didn't think I loved you enough to take care of you."

  "I've always loved you, Jon."

  "And I love you, sweetheart. Now, that minister's waiting over there by Sky Woman's wigwam."

  Caitlyn took his hand and walked beside Jon, her head held high and her love shining in her eyes. The crowd parted for them, and more than one man nodded at Jon and gave him a wink. But Jon only had eyes for Caitlyn, who would be his wife forever in just a few more minutes.

  They stopped in front of a black-robed man, who stood in front of the wigwam Caitlyn recognized as Sky Woman's. Caitlyn held out her hand to the Indian woman.

  "Stand with me, mother," she said softly.

  Sky Woman nodded and joined them, as Silas walked up in response to Jon's wave of his free hand.

  "Here, boyo," Silas said with a sly wink. "Reach for the Moon said for me to give you this from Caitlyn's grandfather."

  Silas handed Jon something, and the glint of sunlight that shot from it drew Catilyn's attention before Jon closed his fingers.

  "What's that, Jon?"

  "A ring your grandfather brought with him, darlin'. We need a ring, you know."

  Caitlyn picked up Jon's hand and pried at his fingers, but Jon closed his fist tightly.

  "Huh uh. You can see it when I slip it on your finger, not before."

  Caitlyn stuck her lip out at him, then gave in grudgingly and faced the minister. The minister began the age-old ceremony, and Caitlyn's eyes filled with tears as she tried to concentrate on his words instead of a half-surfacing, nagging thought in her subconscious. The tears were only for the beauty of the ceremony, she told herself.

  She made her replies in a choked voice, and when Jon finally said, "With this ring, I thee wed," she glanced at the ring through misty eyes.
>
  "Jon!" she said with a gasp. "That's one of my mother's rings. I remember her wearing it!"

  "Caitlyn, give me your hand," Jon muttered as he heard a titter here and there in the crowd.

  "Don't you see, Jon? He kept it for me and brought it all this way. And...."

  Caitlyn's eyes widened and she whirled, standing on tiptoe to try to peer over the heads of the crowd.

  "Where did he go, Jon?"

  "Caitlyn," Jon said through gritted teeth. "Turn your butt back around her so we can finish getting married!"

  "I will not!" Caitlyn said with a stamp of her foot. "I want my grandda here when I get married!"

  "Damn it, you told him you couldn't forgive him!"

  "That was before I realized that it wasn't his fault. You told me that yourself a minute ago, Jon."

  "What the hell wasn't his fault?" Jon demanded.

  "Mother leaving Ireland," Caitlyn said in an exasperated voice. "Don't you see? She left with my stepfather because she loved him — because he was going, and she wanted to be with him. She would've gone anyway. Grandda didn't run her off, and he was protecting me by not telling me that. He took the blame, rather than letting me know my mother had made her own decision. She died because she wanted to be with my stepfather — not because Grandda ran her off."

  "Caitlyn...."

  Caitlyn whirled and shoved through the crowd. Once free, she gazed wildly in the direction Sean had gone and saw him sitting on a horse a few hundred yards away.

  He hadn't left yet. He was waiting to see her get married.

  "Grandda!" Caitlyn pulled the doeskin dress above her knees and started running. "Grandda, wait! Don't go! Please!"

  Jon followed more slowly, ignoring the muffled guffaws from the men as they elbowed one another when he passed.

  "She will be a fine one, if you can ever tame her," one Indian man shouted after Jon.

  Jon turned and smiled at him. "I don't want to tame her," he said. "I love her just fine the way she is."

  The Indian nodded his agreement, and Jon started after Caitlyn again. He watched Sean dismount in time to catch Caitlyn in his arms and hug her tightly. He walked more slowly, giving them plenty of time to talk before he interrupted them.