by Sharon Ihle
"Your family raises cattle around here?" asked Daniel.
She nodded. "It's the Baum Ranch, just east of Miles City. We had around five hundred head, last I heard."
This so surprised him, Daniel almost blurted out the obvious—what were you doing working in a whorehouse if you have family so close by? He didn't, but the question remained in his mind as he said, "You know a lot about cattle ranching, do you?"
Josie shrugged as she headed to the stove to warm herself. "Some. Enough to know that you don't have anything to worry about yet. Your cattle have the forest to help shelter them from the cold. All those trees also keep the snow from piling up so high they can't forage. Surely you know that."
At the table, Long Belly chuckled. "My friend knows nothing of cattle. He is, as he has told me, a blind man who wishes to teach those without eyes. I do not understand this."
"It's the blind leading the blind, you fool," said Daniel, frustrated with far more than Long Belly's attempts at levity. "And it simply means that I, someone whose knowledge of cattle is pretty much restricted to how thick my steak is, am trying to teach you and your starving tribe how to raise beef so you can support yourselves."
Josie looked from the Cheyenne to Daniel. "So this is your first herd, that scraggly little group I saw when Sweetpea found me?"
Daniel felt somehow less a man to admit, "Yes, all twenty head of them, give or take. I'd have a better idea of how they're doing if I hadn't broke my leg and this damned fool here didn't go off looking for buffalo every time I ask him to go check on the herd. Maybe all of that will change now that we've got good old Sweetpea out in the corral."
Long Belly sat back in his chair, pencil to his lips in thought. "Broken Dishes says the herd will be fine. This means that I can continue my search for a great bull. Sweetpea must have a mate."
His frustrations mounting, Daniel felt something inside him snap. "You're done looking for buffalo, you hear me? It's about time you faced your responsibilities."
As he hobbled over to the table, still scolding Long Belly over what he saw as his shortcomings, Josie shut her ears to the noisy argument. She was more concerned with her own. problems. In order to ensure her future success, she probably would have to breed Sweetpea. How was she to do that without a bull? Even though Josie planned to raise cattle as her main business, the fact that she also had buffalo was the one thing she counted on to set her ranch apart. It was the very reason, and probably the only one, that could convince a banker to take a chance and back her.
Turning to the men and their ongoing argument, Josie joined the fray. "I think Long Belly should be allowed to search for a bull. After all, if we found one buffalo, why not two?"
Daniel blew out an exasperated sigh. "I think you should just stay the hell out of this. It doesn't concern you:"
"It concerns me as much as anyone in this house."
"Broken Dishes is right." That said, Long Belly climbed out of his chair and directed his next comment to Daniel. "I will not allow you to speak to this woman in such a manner. She is to be respected above us all."
"You won't allow me?" The veins in Daniel's throat stood out like the ribs of a tipi. "Why, if I had both my legs under me, I'd march you outside right this minute and give you the beating of your life."
"And," said Long Belly, "I would accept this beating. I owe you this much."
Hands gripping the edge of the table, Daniel kicked his crutches aside. "Then maybe I ought to just beat you where you stand."
Sissy, who'd been resting, groaned and climbed off the bed. "I kinda wish that horse had squashed my head," she muttered, moving stiffly to the stove. "At least then, I wouldn't have to listen to all this shit."
Josie burst out laughing. "You hear that, fellahs? I think you've disturbed the patient."
"So have you, princess," said Sissy as she joined Josie. "If you'd just give 'em their damned buffalo and be done with it, none of us would be disturbed around here."
"But it's my buffalo." Why didn't anyone see that but Josie? "I can't think of one good reason to give her up."
"I can. They're men and know what to do with her. What's a slip of a girl like you gonna do with a big ole stinky buffalo, anyway?"
Josie thought of telling her exactly what she planned to do, but held her tongue. Sissy would only laugh at her plans for a ranch, and at the moment, the last thing she needed was hers or anyone's ridicule.
"How are your ribs feeling?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Fine, now that you got 'em bound good and tight. It's my ears that's suffering." After a meaningful look, Sissy glanced toward the window. "Cain't even go outside for a little relief from all this fighting over a stupid buffalo. It's blowing hard enough for December out there. We been here that long already?"
It struck Josie that she didn't know. She glanced at Daniel and Long Belly, noting that their argument had simmered to vicious glares and muttered insults, and asked, "Do you fellahs have a calendar or know what day it is?"
Daniel turned to her with a shake of his dark head. "Don't have much use for a calendar, but I'd say we're about done with November, give or take a few days. Why?"
"You ask why?" she said, remembering a promise she'd made to herself. "It's Thanksgiving, that's why. We have to have a celebration."
After that startling announcement, Josie didn't allow anybody to get in her way. She sent Long Belly to the smokehouse for a ham and some beefsteaks, and then set a pot of potatoes to boil on the stove. After the Cheyenne returned with the meat, Sissy joined him at the table, an interested observer as Daniel continued teaching his brother-in-law how to read. This left Josie in relative privacy to cook up her surprise. One, she hoped, that would somehow make up for Sissy's loss of status as the buffalo spirit. Not a word had been spoken about the transfer of power between the two women, but Josie had felt Sissy's envy and accepted the guilt, deserved or not. This was her chance to help the woman shine again. A chance to show them all that she knew how to be a true friend.
Using the meager supplies at hand, Josie mixed up a batch of biscuits, and then set to making a cake, leavening both baked goods with sour milk and molasses. Although no one disturbed her as she worked, she couldn't help but notice that Daniel was watching her with interest as she fluttered about the stove. He wondered about her sudden prowess as a cook, no doubt, but she would have to worry about an explanation later. For now, she had a birthday supper to prepare.
When the meal was ready and the group gathered around the table, the women sitting on chairs, the men on barrels, at first the others were too stunned to fill their plates. They just sat there staring at the sliced ham, steaks, mashed potatoes and gravy, and the skilletful of fluffy biscuits. Finally, Josie got things going herself.
"Isn't anyone hungry but me?" she asked, dropping a blob of potatoes into a bowl. Thanks to her conniption fit over washing dishes, she no longer had a plate. "Dig in while it's still hot."
This got the others moving. Daniel was the first to load his plate, but it wasn't until after he split one of her biscuits and slathered it with butter that he commented on the meal.
"Oh, man, this is good." Butter dripped off his chin as he savored the first bite. "I haven't had real biscuits like these in so long, I forgot what they tasted like."
"Mmmmm," Long Belly agreed after stuffing an entire biscuit into his mouth.
Sissy, who was slow filling her plate, simply said, "Looks good, Josie. Best I've seen since we left Lola's."
"Hell," said Daniel, talking through a mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy. "This is the best grub I've had since—well, since I can't remember. I thought you couldn't cook."
"I can't," Josie claimed, expecting the question. "So don't get used to this. These are just a couple of recipes I picked up here and there."
Daniel was working on a chunk of ham he'd sandwiched between the halves of a biscuit, but that didn't stop him from saying, "Here and there, or on your father's cattle ranch?"
"Here and there." She lo
oked at him sharply, hesitating a moment before she added, "Now shut up and eat."
The old Josie Baum would never have delivered such a rude comment, but then the person she'd once been had spent a lifetime hearing her stepbrothers and Peter Baum let her know in those same words that her thoughts and opinions were unwanted. To deliver rather than receive the foul reprimand felt much better, if not proper.
Daniel apparently had no problem with Josie's insolent tongue. He simply dove into his food, finishing the rest of the meal in silence, save for the slurping and gobbling of men unused to sharing their table with women. When the last fork was laid in surrender across an empty plate, Josie cautioned the group to remain in place.
"Don't move," she said, heading to the stove. "I have one more surprise, so I hope you saved room for it."
She'd left the cake at the back of the cooktop hidden beneath a scrap of clean toweling. It hadn't risen as high as she'd have liked, but after drizzling the top with a mixture of sugar and water, then sticking a wooden match in the center to serve as a candle, she thought it didn't look too bad under the circumstances.
After lighting the match, Josie turned to the group at the table and said, "Happy birthday, Sissy."
Daniel joined in offering muttered birthday wishes as Josie brought the cake to the table. Long Belly just sat there looking puzzled.
"Make a wish," Josie urged, pushing the cake beneath Sissy's nose. "Then blow it out quick before the match burns down."
Sissy made a funny little sound in her throat, something close to a sob, and then pushed out of her chair. She hardly looked up at Josie, but what she could see of her eyes looked wet.
"I ain't never had no birthday before, and I don't see the need for one now. I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
With that, she went to the ladder and made her way up to the loft, damaged ribs and all.
* * *
Later that night, after Josie had finished scrubbing the kettles and dishes she'd insisted on cleaning herself, she finally joined Daniel, who'd been lying in bed for what seemed like hours. Until Sissy's disturbing reaction to the birthday cake, he'd figured he'd seen the last of his own bed until the women were finally able to go back to Miles City—a thought Daniel would just as soon not contemplate.
The fact that Josie had a whore's disease should have been enough to make him glad she'd be leaving soon, but dammit all, he still wanted her. How could she have wound up in such an occupation in the first place? he wondered, again thinking about her family in Miles City. He didn't know much about the whoring profession, but he had heard that most loose women were either orphaned, abandoned, or just plain booted out of their families. He couldn't imagine Josie in any of those circumstances, but then again, he had trouble picturing her as a whore, too. She was, at the least, a very complicated female. One that he wanted so badly, he'd finally figured out a way to have her. Earlier Daniel had dug through his possibles bag and found a little item that would smooth the way toward easing both their frustrations.
When she finally blew out the lantern for the night and joined him in bed, Josie surprised Daniel by going back to her old posture—as rigid as a lodgepole pine. And just as quiet. Now what the hell was wrong?
He took a stab at the cause. "That cake you baked was good. Real good. Best I ever had."
In the darkness came one word. "Thanks."
Digging deeper, he said, "It's too bad Sissy didn't appreciate it more."
"Yep."
He tried another tack. "Think maybe she's got a burr in her saddle because you found that buffalo, and not her?"
"Maybe. I don't know. I just know that I was only trying to be her friend tonight."
Success at last, or so he thought. "Well, I just want you to know that I think it was a right friendly thing you did baking up a birthday cake like that, especially since you don't—er, cook."
Josie sighed heavily, the first real sign that he was getting to her. Then, unfortunately, she let him know exactly what she was feeling.
"Shut up, Daniel. I want to go to sleep."
Undeterred, he rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around Josie's waist. She wore only her chemise, her body soft despite the rigid core, and she smelled sugar-sweet, just like a birthday cake. Best of all, no longer would he have to lie next this woman, touching, holding, but not really knowing her—at least not in the way he needed to so badly. It was time to let her know that.
"You've been seeing to everyone else's needs tonight," Daniel whispered. "Would it interest you to know that I've been thinking of yours?"
"What's that mean?"
"I want to make love to you, Josie—real love and real pleasure, not what we've been doing."
She stiffened in his arms. "But we can't. I told you why."
"I know," he said, barely able to contain his glee. "You're sick and all, but what if I told you I figured a way around that?"
He wouldn't have thought it possible, but Josie grew even more rigid. "You have... but how?"
Daniel reached under his pillow and withdrew the item he'd hidden there. Dangling it between them, even though she couldn't possibly make it out in the darkness, he said, "Guess what I found?"
Chapter 13
"Damn, Josie, it's a rubber, not a snake. Since I got it from a gal in your line of work, I assume you've seen a couple before. Quit playing around and get back over here."
She didn't know exactly what a rubber was or how it could be used to save a man from a diseased woman, but Josie knew precisely what Daniel had in mind. That was why she'd jumped out of bed and run over by the stove.
"Come on, sweetheart," he urged. "Don't tell me you'd rather stand there freezing in the dark than climb back in this bed with me for a night of unbridled pleasure."
She stifled a moan, understanding at least what he meant by pleasure. She wanted nothing more than to lie in bed with Daniel while his lips and hands did what they would to her. But tonight he wanted more, and apparently he had the means to take it. How to turn him away this time? After all the lies she'd told, Josie doubted that Daniel would appreciate the truth at this late date. Trouble was, she couldn't think of another lie.
"Go to sleep, Daniel," she finally said, hoping that would do the trick. "I want to sit here by myself and think a while."
He took a long time replying, and when he did, Josie wasn't honestly surprised by his reaction. "Well, to hell with you, Miss Baum, and to hell with your thinking. In fact, to hell with playing the gentleman. You like that chair so much, you can just stay in it for the rest of the night."
"What?"
"You heard me. If you can't bring yourself to make love to me, then I sure as hell can't imagine why you'd want to sleep with me."
"But—"
''That's it, Miss Baum. I'm going to sleep."
While things hadn't turned out exactly the way she'd hoped they would, Josie counted herself lucky—for tonight, anyway. Wrapping herself in Daniel's coat, she curled into the chair nearest the stove, and tried to make herself comfortable.
Fuming, Daniel lay on his back trying to figure out what it was that made Josie Baum the woman she was—and why he couldn't stop himself from wanting her.
She was still an enigma in certain areas for sure, that frustrating virginal whore act, in particular. With the exception of her friendship with Sissy, she seemed to care about only one thing—that stupid buffalo. On the other hand, Josie had more than enough hate to go around. Near as Daniel could figure, she hated all Indians with cause enough to hate only a few; hated being told what to do, especially in regard to what most sane people would consider female work; hated her life as a whore; and most of all, hated him. Daniel figured he knew why, too—his Cheyenne blood. Why else would she continue to refuse him what she'd probably done for a hundred others?
Fuming all over again, he tried to look for another reason that she might have refused him. Could be, he supposed, that Josie had decided to find another way to support herself once she got back to Miles City, a
n admirable plan if it were true, but also damned inconsiderate. Fact was, he wanted her now, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that she wasn't worth the humiliation, he knew he wouldn't be happy until he'd had her. So what had he done toward that effort? Tossed her right out of his bed.
"You stupid ass," Daniel muttered to himself as he felt along the night table for the box of matches. He'd half hoped that Josie would come creeping back to bed on her own, begging and pleading for sanctuary, apologizing for putting him through this endless agony. Now it seemed plain that if she were going to join him beneath the blankets again, he would have to go get her and drag her back to bed.
After he got the candle lit, Daniel squinted into the darkness across the room. He could barely make out her shape in the scanty light, but he could see that she had curled up on a chair and fallen asleep. Guilt pricked at him as he limped over to where she sat. She would be as stiff as a poker and kinked up like a ball of barbed wire if she stayed in that position much longer. And it was his fault. All his fault,
"Josie?" he whispered. "Wake up and come to bed. This is no place for you to sleep."
Her head bobbed against her chest, and then she abruptly looked up at him. "What?"
"I want you to come back to bed."
"Oh, no, you don't. I'm staying right here." Daniel wrestled her out of the chair, bad leg and all. "Come on to bed now."
"No."
Josie struggled against him as Daniel peeled her out of his coat. Then, sparing his tender leg as much as possible, he began to drag them both across the room. "You're getting in that bed with me now, or I'm—"
The door to the cabin crashed open then, a chill wind blowing the rest of Daniel's words right out of his mouth. The lean shadow of a stranger filled the doorway for a split second, and then it pounced into the room.
"Turn her loose," the intruder demanded, sounding young and unsure of himself. This curious announcement was immediately followed by the blast of a shotgun.
"Oh, damn. Damn." The shadowy figure howled and began hopping up and down.
