Masked Cowboy (Men of the White Sandy)

by Anderson, Sarah M.

  The proverbial one-room schoolhouse, Mary Beth marveled. “Do you always stay this late?” she asked.

  “I stay with Kip. She needs…extra attention. Jacob has asked me to look after her.” As Mary Beth nodded, Mrs. Browne solemnly added, “Jacob is never late.”

  She led Kip back to a small desk off to one side. “Dear, would you like to read the book again?” Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a creased copy of Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing out from under the seat and opened it to the middle. Kip sat on her hands and stared down at the book.

  Mary Beth looked down at the silent, white child. This was as close as she’d been to her, and now, only a few feet away under florescent lighting, she could see that the girl’s skin was nearly translucent, especially her eyelids. Her eyes didn’t move as she looked at the book.

  Something about this child pulled on the very deepest strings of Mary Beth’s soul. She crouched down beside the girl and whispered, “Judy Blume is one of my favorites. I named my pet turtle Dribble because of that book.”

  Kip slowly raised her head, and it sounded like Mrs. Browne gasped. Just as slowly, she turned her head to Mary Beth and blinked, her hand silently reaching out and resting on Mary Beth’s face.

  Her hand was cold, but Mary Beth reasoned that it was because she’d just been out in the snow as she studied Kip’s face. She had the most unusual eyes Mary Beth had ever seen. They were pale purple around the irises, fading to a pale blue that reminded Mary Beth of her father’s eyes.

  Kip blinked again, and suddenly Mary Beth couldn’t breathe. Kip’s eyes were colored like a bruise erupting from an untapped well of unspeakable pain. It hurt to look at her. What had she seen?

  Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, Mary Beth realized. It—Jacob’s mask, the strange, bloodstained house in the woods, the girl who didn’t exist before she appeared—all of it didn’t just connect back to Kip—it all went through Kip.

  “They were your parents, weren’t they? And you saw…”

  For the first time, Mary Beth saw the corners of Kip’s mouth pull down—not much, just enough to answer the question. Everything. This little girl had seen everything with her bruised eyes. It hadn’t just been Jacob’s old girlfriend and her husband who’d died on the floor of that house. It’d been Kip’s parents.

  Maybe that was why she didn’t look at anything anymore. It hurt too much.

  Mary Beth fell back on her heels, her head reeling and her heart breaking. Life wasn’t fair. She knew that—had lived that. But this? This was an injustice of epic proportions. And she didn’t think she could let it stand. She knew she couldn’t.

  “Dr. Hofstetter? Are you all right? Oh, let me help you.” Suddenly Mary Beth was hoisted onto her feet, strong hands steadying her as she sucked in ragged breaths.

  Slowly, Kip turned her blank eyes back to the unread book.

  “Kip looked at you. Very odd. Kip never looks at anyone but Jacob,” Mrs. Browne went on, politely ignoring Mary Beth’s lack of coherent response. “Here, let me get you some water.”

  As Mrs. Browne disappeared into the other room, Mary Beth shook the last of the sadness from her head. That whispering urge to protect this odd child—a pull on her soul she’d barely been able to contain before—was now a screaming howl. She’d die to keep her safe if that was what it took. She didn’t understand this ferocious new power that seemed to course through her veins, but she didn’t need to. She’d stood up for her mother, then for herself. The answer was an easy one.

  She needed to protect Kip. That was enough.

  “Kip,” she whispered, but the child didn’t move. “I will keep you safe.”

  Kip raised her head but didn’t look up.

  Mary Beth swallowed hard as she gently stroked the blinding white hair. “I promise.”

  She pulled her hand back as Mrs. Browne came back in with a small glass of water.

  “You look a bit flushed. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Browne,” she replied, feeling more sure than she had in a long time. “I’m certain it will all be fine.”

  She saw the kind teacher nervously glance at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late. There’s already a good six inches out there,” Mary Beth offered, knowing full well the older woman wanted to go home.

  “Well…” Mrs. Browne hemmed.

  “I could take Kip.”

  “Oh, I’m not sure that’s—”

  Kip stood up and slipped her small hand into Mary Beth’s. It was still cool, like she was a few degrees colder than normal people. Mary Beth smiled as she looked down at the child, although Kip didn’t look up and didn’t smile back.

  “Kip? Dear, are you sure?”

  It occurred to Mary Beth that Mrs. Browne was the only other person who Kip could trust, and that perhaps Mrs. Browne didn’t relish sharing her special charge. But as Kip stood there silently, her hand resting in Mary Beth’s, the older woman shrugged. “I do have to be running along…we could leave Jacob a note on the door…”

  “Whatever you think would be best.”

  Mrs. Browne looked at the clock again. “Yes. Well, let’s check for Jacob one more time.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mary Beth shoved open the sticky door with an oof before she flipped on the light. “This is where I live, Kip,” she explained. Mrs. Browne treated her as if she were sweet but retarded, but Mary Beth knew that wasn’t the truth.

  Kip was smart—smart enough to survive.

  “I’ll make some dinner. Do you like chicken?”

  Kip sat at the table.

  “Okay. I make a mean chicken and dumplings. My cousin’s recipe. You’ll like it. Maybe the next time you come, we can make cookies.”

  Quickly, the pot was bubbling. Mary Beth kept an eye on the child sitting perfectly still at her table, but Kip was a statue. Maybe she’d been giving Jacob lessons in inscrutability.

  “Do you talk to Jacob, Kip?”

  There was no response.

  “No, I would imagine not. He keeps you safe though.”

  In the face of overwhelming silence, Mary Beth felt compelled to keep up a one-sided conversation.

  “You ride your horse really well. Does Jacob let you ride around after school?” She shrugged, getting more used to the lack of a response. “I rode when I was a little girl. My mom says that she thinks I was born on a horse, next to a cow. By the time I was your age—you’re seven, right?—by your age, I was helping wean new calves. Do you help Jacob?”

  Suddenly, someone was pounding on the door. “Kip!” a deep voice rumbled.

  Mary Beth spun to grab her knife from the counter, and when she turned back around, Kip was gone. She just caught the movement of the curtain that covered her little washer-dryer combo flutter.

  “Good girl,” she whispered as the pounding continued. The knife at the ready, she growled at the door, “Who is it?”

  “Mary Beth? It’s Jacob,” he said, his voice softening. “Please tell me you have Kip.”

  She swung the door open, oblivious to the snow piling in and only lowering the knife a bit. Jacob stood there, nearly as white as Kip from the flakes that dusted him completely. His shoulders slumped in relief until he saw the knife. “What are you doing?” he snarled.

  Seeing that he was alone, Mary Beth scowled at him as she yanked him into the house. “Where have you been?” she spat at him, stalking back to the kitchen. She slipped the knife back into the sheath and stirred the dumplings. They were almost done.

  “I got stuck with the buffalo. Half those men Buck hired didn’t show today. Something about a blizzard, I guess.” He looked at the clock, smacking himself in the forehead. “Where is she? Is she all right?”

  Mary Beth pointed to the curtain that was as still as it could be. “She’s fine.”

  Kip was nowhere to be seen. “Kip? Where are you? It’s me, Jacob!”

  “If I were Kip,” she said, realization dawning, “I’d be hiding in the washing mach
ine.”

  Jacob flipped up the lid and, making an uncharacteristic squeak, plucked the shaking child from the drum. “Good Lord, Kip, you scared me.”

  He gave her a quick hug, which brought Mary Beth up short. The tenderness—she’d never seen that from Jacob before. This wasn’t him awkward or unsure or even surly. This was him looking almost like a regular dad. Except for the mask, of course.

  Mary Beth set the steaming bowls of dumplings on the table with a flourish. “Dinner is served. Kip, would you like some milk?”

  While Kip didn’t talk, she did eat. She ate three bowls of the dumplings with three whole glasses of milk. As Mary Beth marveled at the girl’s appetite, she asked, “So, tell me about the buffalo.”

  Grinning, Jacob shook his head like he was talking about a toddler that got into the candy jar. So protective of them, Mary Beth realized. So protective of us all.

  “This one buffalo bull got wrapped up in some barbed wire.”

  Oh, heavens, buffalo in barbed wire. “Was it okay?”

  Jacob chuckled. “Barbed wire is no match for buffalo fur, but he was plenty pissed at being tangled up. Every time we’d start to get him unwound, he’d spin on us and we’d be right back to square one. You’re lucky I didn’t call your butt out there.”

  “You’d have had to come get me, you know.”

  His eye held hers as his eyebrow moved up. “I know.” Something in the way he said it sent her temperature spiking up, but before she could dwell, she saw Kip’s head began to nod.

  Mary Beth looked outside. The drifts completely covered her porch, already erasing any trace of Jacob’s footprints. This was no weather to send a child out into. “Did you bring the paint?”

  “Mick? Not in this weather. I rode the snowmobile.”

  Mary Beth swallowed down the nervous anticipation. Would he go if Kip stayed? “She’s already half-asleep, so I guess you’d better leave her here.”

  “I don’t leave her. Not at night.”

  Mary Beth wasn’t sure if she was breathing or not, but she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by. “Then I guess you’ll need to stay too.”

  “Guess I will,” he casually answered, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

  Jacob pulled the back cushions off the couch while Mary Beth dug out all the extra blankets. Soon, they had Kip snuggly tucked in, almost invisible amongst the piles of comforters.

  “Will she be all right here?” Mary Beth whispered, unconsciously slipping her hand into his.

  He tightened his fingers around hers. “She sleeps okay. She should be fine.” He let go of Mary Beth and knelt beside the resting child. “Good night, Kip,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead. Nearly lost in the warm blankets, Kip smiled in her sleep.

  Mary Beth felt the part of her heart that had broken earlier in the school stitch itself back together. Whatever had happened to Kip’s parents and Jacob’s face, he refused to curl up and die. He did everything he could to protect this little girl.

  It was a feeling she understood more and more.

  “I have to know what’s going on,” she whispered in his ear. From this angle, she could just see where the mask separated from his face, a few millimeters of space.

  “I told you what I know,” he replied.

  Kip rolled over on the couch, so Mary Beth pulled Jacob into the bedroom. He shot her a snide look, but she defended, “It’s either this or the bathroom if you want to talk.” Amongst other things.

  Without a word, he flopped down on her side of the bed and kicked his boots off.

  “What makes her special?” Mary Beth asked as she folded cross-legged onto the far side of the bed.

  He shrugged, but she could see him watching her under those heavy lashes.

  “And I don’t mean special like Mrs. Browne thinks she’s special. She’s not dumb and she’s not autistic.”

  “What makes you think she’s not?” he asked, carefully testing the waters.

  “Aside from the fact that she’s an albino? Jacob, I can’t explain what happened. I knelt beside her and said something about the book Mrs. Browne put in front of her, and she looked at me.” Jacob snorted, but she had his full attention.

  “She’s not blind.”

  “First off, lots of albinos are. Have you had her vision checked?”

  His confident exterior faltered just a bit. “No…do I need to?”

  “Albinos have a lot of vision problems. You need to be getting her to regular check-ups,” she replied, sounding like a doctor again. This part, she could handle. The rational, known medical reality.

  “Oh,” he said, his voice unusually soft and vulnerable. For a split second, he actually looked adorable, mask notwithstanding. But as he said, “Second off?” the note of vulnerability disappeared.

  The part she couldn’t handle. Mary Beth took a deep breath, resting her hand on her chin. “You know damn well she doesn’t look at people. I’ve been watching you get her for months, and she’s never once looked at me or anyone else at the café, not even Robin. She looks at the ground. If she can’t see people, she thinks they can’t see her. She thinks it makes her invisible. And she looked at me.”

  “You’re pretty observant,” he dryly remarked.

  “I’m a doctor.”

  “You’re a vet,” he corrected, leaning forward and kissing her.

  Unlike the haul-you-out-of-the-saddle kiss he’d given her on horseback a few weeks ago, this was a tender kiss, like the kiss he’d given Kip’s forehead while she lay sleeping.

  For just a second, Mary Beth let herself be distracted as she tasted his deep musk, salty and earthy. But then her brain snapped back to attention, and she realized she’d almost fallen for the trap. Fine. You’re going to play dirty, I’m going to play dirty. Stealthily, she reached up to grab at the strap of his mask.

  In less than a heartbeat, he had her hand and was holding her flat against the bed.

  “I told you not to do that,” he growled as the weight of his body pinned her against the mattress.

  “Then stop changing the subject,” she quietly snarled back. “If you’re going to be a jerk, I’m going to be a jerk, okay?”

  “Fine. No jerks allowed.” He frowned as he let her go and they both sat up.

  Hell, she wasn’t sure she believed it either. “Now,” she demanded, hopping off the bed to pace around the small room, “tell me why you watch over her, and I don’t want to hear any crap about how you used to love her mom. She’s special, and I want to know why.”

  Jacob sat there, his shoulders tense as he hid his eye behind his hand.

  “Jacob?” she asked, fearful she’d pushed him too far. “What is it?”

  “You aren’t supposed to know about her,” he whispered, his voice dangerously low.

  “Apparently, I’m not supposed to know a lot of things,” she replied evenly. “And yet here we are.”

  Jacob threw himself off the bed and walked right up to Mary Beth, grabbing her by the shoulders so tightly she was afraid he would leave marks. “Kip—here’s the thing,” he said as he leaned into her ear, like he was afraid someone would hear them. “I think—it’s possible—she’s a holy woman.”

  “A what?”

  “Okay. This all makes sense if you just believe,” he whispered, his eye pleading for understanding.

  “Believe she’s a holy woman?”

  “Kip comes from a long line of powerful women. Susan was the daughter of the last holy woman to lead our people, Joy Clear Waters, although Susan didn’t get the same gifts.”

  “You are talking about psychic powers, right?”

  “Right.” He nodded. “It’s more common for those who follow the traditional old ways.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Of course,” she said as she forced a smile. “Makes perfect sense.”

  “It does if you believe,” he replied, finally letting go of her, albeit slowly, trailing his fingers down her arms.

  Darned if he didn’t give her
goose bumps even through the sweatshirt. “Do you believe?”

  At that, he seemed to struggle. “I…I believe I’m supposed to keep her safe. That’s good enough for me.”

  He didn’t sound convinced—at least, not about the whole holy-woman thing. But she wasn’t going to push him on that. She had no room to talk about spirituality or religion or anything. “Okay. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I believe. Stranger things have happened. How does that explain anything?”

  “Okay. If you believe, it makes perfect sense,” he repeated, although he didn’t look like he thought he could convince her. “After Joy Clear Waters died, there was a vacuum in power in the tribe.”

  “One woman held the tribe together?”

  “It’s not like that,” he scoffed, and Mary Beth resolved to keep her mouth shut. “She kept the tribe rooted in the old ways—our traditions, our culture—what makes us Lakota. And when Susan didn’t take her place, a lot of people thought that was a sign that the old ways had died too.”

  “So when Kip was born—”

  “A white child is special.” That was something of an understatement—how many albino Indians were there? But the way he said it made it clear that he meant special in a different sense. “Susan and Fred knew she had received her grandmother’s gifts. But a lot had changed in fifteen years.”

  “You’re saying some people wouldn’t want the old ways—which I still don’t understand, but that’s okay—to come back.”

  “Buck McGillis sure as hell doesn’t,” Jacob grumbled.

  Lord, am I ever going to be able to keep up with what goes on in this town? She tried not to sound like a smartass. “Why does he matter? He’s not Lakota, is he?”

  “Rumor is that his grandmother was—a black soul who abandoned her people for the white man.”

  That doesn’t bode well for whatever we’ve got then. Mary Beth winced as she tried to sympathetically nod.

  “And since Joy’s death, McGillis has convinced some in the tribe to sell their lands, taken it from others.”

  “Okay.” She knew she was whining, but she couldn’t help it. Her head was swimming. “I really don’t understand what he wants with the land. I mean, no offense, but when all of us bad white people shoved all you noble Natives onto reservations a hundred years ago, didn’t you get the worst land there was and the whites got the good stuff?”