by Sharon Ihle
How could a prostitute be too shy to discard even a scrap of her clothing? If indeed she'd been worried about unwanted advances, the chemise beneath her gown would certainly have 'protected' her just as well—another oddity. Why did she feel she needed protection from an invalid when any man off the street could have her for a price? It wasn't as if he'd given her the idea that he planned on going where he clearly wasn't wanted. Daniel was not the kind of man who condoned or used force on women, and he hadn't given Josie any indication otherwise. Yet when he'd reached for her last night, she'd threatened to kill him. He simply couldn't make sense of her.
She stirred then, touching his upper thigh, unconsciously testing Daniel's control. After the death threat, he hadn't sought her comfort again, and now he had to wonder why he'd been so generous. Surely not because of the broken leg. A woman in her line of work would know plenty of ways to ease a man's needs, several of which wouldn't disturb his injury in the least. Just thinking about a couple of those ways, not to mention how good it felt to have her warm body snuggled against this, made him think that maybe he'd been a damn fool to let her off so easily. From the few murmured grunts and groans he'd heard in the loft before drifting off, he had an idea that Long Belly hadn't been nearly so thoughtful of the dark-skinned whore who shared his bedroll.
With a breathy little sigh, Josie rolled into Daniel, brushing her cheek against his mouth as she threw her arm across his chest. She was so close to him now that he could feel the warm puffs of her breath against his face, count each auburn hair in her long curly lashes as they swept back and forth along the crests of her cheekbones. She looked ridiculously young and innocent. A whore playing the part of a maiden. So pure, so artful, so damned defiant. What was it about this wanton that made him think he ought to protect rather than ravish her?
Josie stretched and yawned then, an indication that she would awaken soon. Her lips were parted now, inviting and teasing, making him feel like a bigger fool than ever. And as horny as a penned-up jackrabbit. Without another thought, Daniel impulsively took her into his arms and smothered her mouth with his.
The kiss was heaven for about twenty seconds.
He'd barely tasted the sweetness of Josie's lush lips or had a chance to marvel over their velvety texture before her big brown eyes flew open. A moment later the lodgepole pine attacked, reaching out with fingernails that gouged his face like splintered branches.
"Hey," he shouted, pushing her away. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
When she looked up and saw the scratches near Daniel's right eye, Josie was at once pleased and frightened—gratified to see that she'd drawn blood, but nervous about the knife he kept close at hand. She quickly rolled to the edge of the bed, and then fell to the floor in a heap.
Peeking over the edge of the mattress, she made a halfhearted apology. "Sorry, but you startled me. I didn't know where I was or who you were."
That much was, in part, the truth. Josie had been dreaming of her brief tryst with Henry in the Baum barn, remembering how his lips had felt against hers and how she'd wondered where his inquisitive hands would light next, when she'd suddenly realized that the face rubbing against hers wasn't soft and smooth like Henry's, but more like kissing a bramble bush. By the time she opened her eyes, her memory had returned and she knew exactly where she was and who was assaulting her.
Daniel grumbled a little, but grudgingly accepted her apology. "I didn't mean to scare you. I figured a woman like you'd be used to waking up with a strange man in her bed."
Even though Josie had yet to explain that she was not a prostitute, the statement startled her. How could she be so easily mistaken for such a woman? The thought was unsettling. Worse, it titillated her somehow, made her feel sexy and desirable. A little shudder of pleasure coursed through her at the wicked thought.
"l, ah, have to... relieve myself." She thought of the odoriferous stop jar, praying to God there was some other way. "Do you have a privy?"
"It's out back," Daniel said. "Turn right at the door and head straight down the incline. You can't miss it."
As Josie climbed to her feet, arms still hugged tightly to her waist, he added, "I think you'll find it's plenty nippy out there. You'd better take my coat. It's the light buckskin one hanging by the door."
The last thing she wanted was to be in this man's debt, but as Josie skittered across the room and reached for the heavy, wool-lined garment, she could have kissed Daniel for the offer, stubbly cheeks and all. After slipping on the huge jacket, staggering under its weight, she headed to the door.
"Oh, one other thing," said Daniel, stopping her in her tracks. "If winter's coming on us as fast as Long Belly says it is, I'd be on the lookout for bears."
Josie turned to look at him. "Bears?"
Daniel nodded. "They'll be getting ready to dig in now, gorging themselves with anything and everything that gets in their way. That includes a tasty little morsel like you."
For a brief moment, Josie considered using the slop jar. Then her senses returned. "What do I do if a bear comes after me?"
"Just make a lot of noise as you walk. Bears are usually more afraid of us than we are of them." He paused to consider this, and then narrowed his eyes and offered another suggestion. "Then again, that might not be true of a grizzly about ready to go into hibernation. Do you know how to use a gun?"
Although she'd never actually fired a pistol before, Josie had watched her brothers at target practice on several occasions, always with great envy. Figuring this was qualification enough, she nodded. "Of course."
Eyes still narrow, as if doubting her answer or even pondering the wisdom of arming her, Daniel finally said, "I keep a Peacemaker up on the shelf by the whiskey. Be careful getting it down—it's loaded."
After Josie reached the stove and the shelf above it, she slid her fingers along the edge of the sooty plank until she felt the cold steel barrel of the gun. Gingerly taking the weapon by the grip, she removed it and once again started for the door.
"Don't shoot right at a bear if you see one," Daniel warned as she headed outside. "There's nothing meaner than a wounded grizzly. Fire over its head if you need to use the gun. The noise alone ought to scare it off."
For some reason, this advice didn't make Josie feel any safer as she headed out into the gray, frigid morning. Holding the Colt between both hands, she waved it continually in front of herself yelling, "Shoo! Shoo!" as she hurried down the small incline to the squat log outhouse,
After Josie finished in the privy, a tiny building that was surprisingly clean and in some ways smelled a whole lot better than the cabin, she paused to lean against the trunk of a ponderosa pine that was located between the outhouse, the barn, and the house. Although she'd seen no sign of bears, she kept a tight grip on the gun as she drew in a long, frigid breath. Less afraid and more relaxed now, Josie gave herself a quiet moment to reflect on her situation.
A light snow had fallen during the night, dusting the ground more than covering it. She'd broken through this thin crust as she walked, leaving behind footprints that stood out Like the markings on a pinto pony. Soon, she thought, all traces of her march to the privy would be obliterated. Dark clouds were building overhead, threatening an even more substantial storm. If he didn't know anything else, she had to concede that Long Belly did seem to know how to predict the weather.
Relatively warm inside the heavy coat, Josie hugged it even closer to her body, determined to stay in the out of doors for as long as she could. This was where she belonged, where she'd always belonged, with the wind to her back and all her senses alive. At the Baum farm, her stepbrothers had been expected from an early age to labor in the fields, mend fences, and tend the livestock. They laughed at her whenever she begged to go along with them, telling her how lucky she was to be safe and warm doing inside chores instead of breaking her back with them on the range. They'd even said that she was crazy in the head to be coveting their work in place of the comfort of kitchen and hearth. It seemed to
Josie that if tending the home was such a darn enviable task, at least one of the boys would have begged on occasion to swap places with her. Of course, that had never happened.
Her only outings had been monthly visits to church along with semi-regular attendance at school. She was ashamed to admit the reason she'd been so adamant about getting her education was not so much for what she might learn, but for the chance to get out of the kitchen. She loved those few hours away from the monotonous drudgery of housework, in particular the ride to and from the little schoolhouse atop Duke, an old plow horse whose mixed origins gave him a high-stepping gait that didn't quite match his cumbersome body. With the exception of such days, life on the Baum farm had hardly been worth living. She'd been caged there as surely as the livestock in the barn, as much a captive as she was now. Was this all her life would ever amount to? she wondered. Escaping from one trap only to land in another?
Of the three cages she'd been penned in so far—the Baum home, the pleasure palace, and now this stifling cabin—Josie honestly couldn't say for sure which was the worst. She couldn't imagine going back to either of the first two. And yet how would she ever survive in this cabin among these dreadful savages, especially if the weather turned so bad there was no hope of escaping until spring?
Behind her, the cabin door suddenly opened, then closed with a thud.
When she turned, Josie saw that Long Belly was headed her way. He was fully dressed right down to his buffalo robe, and he carried a large buckskin satchel, the same parfleche he'd toted when he kidnapped her. She glanced from him to the gun still tightly clutched between her palms, and saw in the weapon a possible means of escape, the impending storm be damned. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned as he approached and brandished the weapon.
"Take me back to Miles City this instant," Josie demanded, her voice quivering with fear. "Or at least down to the mission by the river. If you don't, I swear I'll shoot you where you stand.
Without so much as a glance at the gun, Long Belly simply said, "You are very clever. Perhaps in the future I should call you Foolish Woman Who Plans to Kill Her Only Guide." He brushed past her then, adding, "Water boils on the stove. Wash my brother and see to his needs. He is in much pain this morning."
With that, the savage continued on to the barn.
Feeling angry and impotent, Josie abruptly wheeled around after him and raised the gun above his head. Intending to fire a warning shot as Daniel had suggested in case of bears, she squeezed the trigger. It moved a scant quarter of an inch, but the pistol didn't fire. She tugged on the trigger again, using all her strength. As before, nothing happened. By then the savage had disappeared into the bowels of the barn, leaving Josie with nothing to do but follow his directions.
Feeling trapped and helpless again, she returned to the cabin and stepped into the comparatively warm room. Still wearing Daniel's coat, she trudged over to the shelf and slid the useless pistol back in its place. A fire was roaring inside the stove, and a pot of coffee and kettle of water were perched on top of the greasy stove. Pausing there a moment, she warmed her frozen hands.
"See any bears?" asked Daniel, still lying in his bed.
"No," she muttered. "It's a good thing, too, because that gun of yours doesn't work."
"You tried to fire it?"
Caught, she gulped. "Ah—yes, I thought I saw something moving in the trees."
"There's nothing wrong with that gun. Are you sure you had it fully cocked?"
She turned to him at last. "Cocked?"
"Did you pull the hammer all the way back before you fired?"
Josie wasn't at all certain what or where this hammer could be. She only remembered seeing her brothers pull back on the trigger—again, and again, and again.
She shrugged out of Daniel's coat, hanging it back on the correct antler as she said, "I only know how to pull the trigger. It didn't work."
Daniel laughed. "My gun isn't a revolver. I guess I should have mentioned that. How's the coffee doing?"
"I don't know," she said, more concerned with her immediate problem. "I saw your brother going into the barn with his bag. He looked as if he might be taking a trip. Is he planning to take us back to Miles City today?"
Daniel pushed up to a sitting position, propping himself there by a pair of fur-covered pillows. Then he patted the mattress beside him. "Come sit down. There are a few things I ought to explain."
Although the last thing she wanted to do was get near this man, she figured Daniel was her best chance at freedom. She joined him at the edge of the bed, but did not sit down.
"I'm not your enemy," he said quietly. "And though it may not seem that way, neither is Long Belly. It was his idea to bring you gals up here, not mine, but he honestly thought he was doing a good thing. I want you to know that if I'd had any idea what he intended to do when he left here that day, I'd have done everything I could to stop him."
Josie could detect nothing but sincerity in his tone or expression. Sensing an ally, she pleaded her cause. "Then don't you think you ought to do everything you can to make him take us back?"
"I would if I could." He slowly shook his head and grinned, amused by some private thought. "As the Indian agent at this Reservation, it's undoubtedly my duty to see you ladies safely back to Miles City, but since I went and busted my leg, there isn't much I can do for now."
At this news, the fact that Daniel McCord was actually in charge of the savage who'd kidnapped her, Josie stomped her foot against the dirty floor, raising a cloud of dust
"I had no idea you were an authority out here. A man in your position should have no problem forcing that savage to take us back where we belong. There's a storm brewing that could keep us here for weeks."
Daniel smiled then with compassion and even the hint of understanding, an expression that gave her a glimmer of hope.
"As an Indian agent, my job is to see to the needs of the Cheyenne, not cater to the whims of white folks who'd just as soon see every last Indian dead."
"If I have a wish to see that Indian dead, it's only because he kidnapped me. I hardly think returning me to Miles City can be thought of as catering to a whim."
"Sorry, but he doesn't think of it as kidnapping. I'll try to talk to him about this again when he gets back, but don't get your hopes up. Long Belly is one stubborn Indian. Once he gets something stuck in his head, you pretty much need a stick of dynamite to get it out. Right now his head is full of buffalo that talk to him when he sleeps."
The Cheyenne was not only a savage, but crazy? Josie thought with horror.
"I know what you must be thinking," Daniel went on to say, "but there's no arguing with this or any Cheyenne when it comes to his dreams. Now that Long Belly has found your friend, a woman who he believes is full up with the spirit of the buffalo, he's more convinced than ever that he'll find a bull buffalo."
Josie was not impressed or interested in any quest except her own—freedom. "That savage can believe in the spirit of a three-headed goat for all I care. I just want him to take me back to Miles City, and to do it this minute."
From the loft above, Sissy's voice filtered down. "Sorry, princess, but that ain't gonna happen."
Moments later, Josie's only friend in the world inched her way down the ladder. Instead of her low-slung blouse and scarlet skirt, she was wearing a long jacket with matching leggings, both of beaded buckskin.
"This Long Belly fellah," Sissy said when she was on level footing, "has taken it in his head that the buffalo he's looking for will come to me. We're going out looking for it this morning before the weather gets too bad."
"But he can't go off chasing buffalo—everyone knows they're all dead." Desperate, Josie clasped her hands together. "Please, please, talk to him, Sissy. Tell him you're just a plain ole whore, that you don't have anyone's spirit inside you, and that you can't possibly find a stinking buffalo that isn't even alive. Then maybe you can talk him into taking us back to Lola's."
"Sorry, princess, but we
ain't got a chance of getting off this mountain until that injun is damn good and ready to take us back down—which he ain't."
With that, she went over to the stove, poured a cup of coffee, and headed out the door. Josie was hot on her heels.
"Sissy, wait," she said, joining heron the porch. "You have to help me."
"Help you do what?"
"Survive, I guess. You can't just leave me here with that... that man. We should be figuring a way out of here."
Sissy looked her over, up one side and clown the other. "You don't look no worse for the wear. If you lived through last night, you can get through anything."
"He expects me to bathe him." She shuddered at the thought. "And God knows what else."
Sissy shrugged. "Then do it."
"But I'm not a..." Too late, Josie bit her tongue.
"You're a whore now, ain't you?"
Josie shook her head.
"You telling me you spent the night in that man's bed and he didn't jump you?"
"That's right. I wouldn't let him."
Sissy snickered. "He must be a whole lot sicker than I thought."
"I don't see anything funny about this. If anyone around here so much as touches me, I'll kill him."
"Relax, princess," Sissy said with a shrug. "It's only your body. Give the man what he wants without a fight, and it'll go a whole lot better for you."
Not only was Josie less than encouraged by this advice, it made her mad enough to chew nails. "That's easy for you to say after all the men you've bedded—you probably even like what they do to you."
Sissy's dark eyes were usually flat and expressionless. Now they turned hard and mean. "I ain't never found a speck of pleasure in any man's arms. They take what they want, and I let 'em have it. You'll be better off if you do the same."
"How can you say that to me? I thought you were my friend."
"Friend?" Sissy laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "You got to be a friend to have one, princess." That said, she stepped off the porch and started for the barn.
