Untamed

by Sharon Ihle

  "Sons?" The word alone was enough to gag her. Josie grabbed her throat, unable to breath for a moment. "You never mentioned that you had children. Why didn't you tell me?"

  He shrugged. "It never came up, I guess. Aren't they just about the cutest little pups you've ever set eyes on?"

  Chapter 16

  It was a good thing that Daniel didn't get a chance to ask Josie what she thought of his adorable pups. If he had, he'd have gotten an earful about how much she disliked children, male children in particular, and that she thought it was downright rude of him to populate the world with not one, but two little pisspots at a throw. Of course he didn't question her then and not even later, when the twins ran off to resume playing with the other children, all of them as bare-assed naked as they were. Not that her thoughts on the matter could be shared with him here in the presence of all his heathen friends. And maybe not even later, in privacy. If they ever found any.

  She and Daniel were still enveloped in that tumbleweed of savages, although as they strolled through the campsite, more and more men seemed to break off and go in other directions. The chatter continued, however, most of it female and all of it in the Cheyenne language, which made Josie feel alien and isolated.

  The biggest surprise was the conduct of the Indians themselves. While she hadn't known exactly what to expect when she rode into the camp of a band of heathens, Josie had imagined that she'd be the subject of malevolent glares and salacious leers. Quite the opposite. The few warriors she did see treated her with respect and dignity, and several of them were too shy to even look her directly in the eye.

  When the group had dwindled down to four Cheyenne women, who led Daniel and Josie to a large tipi decorated with paintings of stick figures and horses, he finally spoke to her privately.

  Waiting until after the squaws had opened the flap and ducked inside the tipi, he said, "As I suspected they might, my friends here want to honor us with a wedding feast."

  "But how can I take part in that when I don't even know what any of you are saying?"

  "I'll translate where necessary. For now all you have to do is sit quietly and let the women inside the tipi get you ready for the ceremony."

  She glanced nervously through the flap. "What are they going to do to me?"

  Daniel laughed. "Nothing you won't like, I promise. They'll dress you, groom your hair, and maybe paint your face a little. That's all."

  That's all? "Where will you be while they're covering me in war paint?"

  Again he laughed. "Conducting agency business with the tribal council. When you're ready, someone will take you to the feast, and I'll join you there."

  Josie snuck another peck inside the tipi. Four pairs of eyes glittered back at her from the semidarkness. "I don't know about this. I'm not sure I want to stay here without you. I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm more than just a little nervous about the idea."

  Daniel touched her cheek, his fingertips warm and smooth again her skin, and then he leaned in close and kissed the spot he'd touched. "I know you're afraid, and I have a pretty good idea why. After you learn a little about our customs and our people, I think you'll find we're not so different from your own family back in Miles City."

  This did not reassure Josie in the least. In fact, the thought made her want to turn and run as fast as she could back to the cabin. Instead, she sighed heavily and said, "Oh, I guess it won't kill me, at that. Will you at least be in shouting distance?"

  "Until it's time to meet you at the feast, I'll be as close as that tipi over there the whole time." Daniel turned and pointed out a lodge situated in the middle of the camp, one with even more elaborate figures and symbols than the others. "Anything else?"

  Josie glanced around, noting that the women and young girls were bustling about the other tipis, some carrying sticks to the large fire ring at the center of camp, some toting cooking supplies. Most of the men had disappeared, and several young boys were playing games with miniature bows or kicking around a leather ball. She almost laughed when she realized that Daniel had been right—the reservation did remind her of home, in far too many ways. Females worked; males played.

  "Oh, and another thing," Daniel said, bringing her attention back to him. "When you enter the tipi, be sure to go to your left before you pick a spot to sit down."

  "Why?"

  He shrugged. "It's just good manners. That, and when you do sit, don't do it cross-legged the way the men do. Women are supposed to sit on their heels or with their legs to one side. Got it?"

  Josie had never considered that savages might have rules of conduct to follow, much less a proper sitting etiquette for their women. The idea amused as much as fascinated her.

  "Got it," she said, suddenly eager to find out what was in store for her. "See you at the feast—be sure to save me the biggest piece of beaver tail, or whatever it is they're cooking up for us,"

  Daniel frowned and wagged a finger in Josie's face, then swatted her backside as she turned and ducked inside the tipi.

  He chuckled at the little yelp she made, then waited for her to settle in with the others before turning on his heel and heading to where the tribal council" had gathered. Damned if he didn't want to do a hell of a lot more than just swat that cute little bottom, he thought, eager for the night. He didn't doubt that there would be a few rough spots living with a consarned female like Josie over the next few months, but Daniel suddenly realized that he was actually looking forward to their life together. And hoping it would continue beyond the few months she had sentenced herself to be his wife.

  When Daniel reached the tipi that belonged to White Bull, the religious leader of the tribe, he stepped inside the open flap, and then closed it when he realized he was the last to arrive. All the others members of the council were already sitting on beds positioned along the circular wall. Working his way to the right, he eased down on the empty bed between He Dog, Long Belly's younger brother, and their father, High Backed Wolf.

  "Your leg has healed?" asked White Bull in his native tongue as Daniel settled himself.

  He nodded. ''It's a little sore yet, but good enough to hunt."

  The theologian, a man thick of jowl and neck who rarely smiled, passed his favorite ceremonial pipe, the bowl of which was an intricately crafted buffalo carved of steatite. Daniel inhaled several lungfuls of kinnekinick smoke, a mixture of agency tobacco, larb leaves, and willow bark, then passed the pipe onto He Dog. After everyone had their ceremonial puffs of smoke, White Bull got down to business.

  "I see you have brought us flour, sugar, and a small amount of bacon, but no other meat."

  Daniel sighed. "There was none to spare at the mission. The drought has hurt us all, even the whites."

  "Bah, the whites, they are bad. They have deprived us of game, conquered our lands, and stolen everything of value to us." The elder warrior, whose hatred of whites ran deep, shook his fist, rattling beads, arrowheads, and the other decorations befitting his standing in the tribe. "They will not be happy until they exterminate the Cheyenne and all others like them."

  There wasn't a hell of a lot Daniel could say to dispute White Bull's accusations. The best he could manage was, "Not all whites feel that way. Many are trying to help our people."

  "Humph. The way your officials helped last winter when four of our women died of hunger?"

  "I told them about those losses, but by then it was too late to do anything about it." Damned if he wasn't having a hard time defending a system that clearly was not working as well as it should have.

  White Bull persisted. "Will you tell them now that we shall all die before spring if we do not receive more rations? The few antelope left in these hills were killed last year, and now the ranchers come and steal what is left of our horses. We also need food and blankets if we are to survive this winter. What will the white government do about these problems?"

  "I don't know. I'll write Washington again and make sure they understand how difficult life has become here." This was the p
art of being an agent for his people that Daniel hated the most. Lying to them. "I'm sure when they understand the situation, they'll immediately send the rations we need so desperately. In the meantime, we'll just have to eat the cattle Long Belly and I are raising."

  White Bull snorted, sounding very much like a live bison. "The whites expect us to become farmers and ranchers, but do not give us the proper tools or training. They tell us to water our crops, but allow other whites to live in the best areas where the water runs free and the meadows grow high. Now we are to eat the few cattle we own? If we do that, we will have none left to sell or breed. Already we are forced to eat our seed potatoes. Soon we will have nothing."

  Daniel didn't know what to say to that. He certainly couldn't argue the point. Nothing he said would make a damn bit of difference to the old man, anyway. The best he could do was offer the one thing the Cheyenne had precious little of these days—hope.

  "We do have one thing of value that not even the whites know about," he said with a smile. "I have in my possession one of the last living buffalos in these parts."

  White Bull sat forward so quickly, he almost fell into the fire at the center of the meeting. "This is true?"

  Daniel smiled, gratified to see a gleam in the old man's eyes again. "Long Belly's woman found the place where it had been sleeping, and my woman found the beast. She talked to this buffalo and convinced it to follow her to my cabin. It rests there now in my corral."

  The men began to jabber among themselves, and White Bull closed his eyes in prayer. When he opened them again, he flashed a rare smile as he said, "This buffalo will be a good thing for our people and good for Nature too, as long as we can keep it for ourselves and away from the whites. But we still need rations. You will tell them again?"

  Looking over the head of the religious leader, since he couldn't look him in the eye, Daniel repeated, "I'll be sure to explain exactly what we need when I write my letter."

  He didn't bother to mention that rather than mailing it when he finished, he might as well put that letter in the fire for all the good it would do.

  * * *

  In the tipi with the women who were fussing and giggling over her, Josie finally began to relax and enjoy herself a little. After they'd discarded her buckskin shirt and trousers and washed her, they covered her in a splendid dress of the softest elkskin imaginable. The fringed bodice was decorated with white, black, red, and yellow beads, the four sacred Cheyenne colors that Daniel had sewed onto her boots. Those were exchanged for another pair of high winter moccasins with fringed flaps that were also made of elkskin and decorated with beads in a pattern that matched the dress. When she sat down again, careful to rock back on her heels the way Daniel had instructed, an older woman began to drag a porcupine-tail brush through Josie's hair, and another got busy painting red dots on her cheeks.

  The third, a young girl who seethed utterly fascinated by Josie's pale skin and freckles, approached her with a parfleche full of trinkets and jewelry after the painter had finished. Motioning for Josie to hold out her hands, the girl began to push a series of brass rings and bracelets onto her fingers and wrists. When her hands and arms were sufficiently weighed down with glittering baubles, the girl crawled around back to where the old woman continued to brush her hair, and then helped her to plait it into two braids that hung down the front of the dress. They left her hair unadorned and completed the wedding costume by adding a three-tiered necklace made of porcupine quills and colorful beads.

  After they'd finished with her, the women shooed Josie out of the tipi and into the waning afternoon sunlight. Chattering among themselves, they linked hands and ran up behind her, bumping against her bottom.

  "What?" she said, trying to push them away. Again they bumped her bottom. "You want me to sit on your arms?"

  She squatted slightly, pretending to sit, and they nodded enthusiastically. Shaking her head, Josie backed away from the tangle of women. "Appreciate the offer, but no thanks. I'd just as soon walk as be paraded in front of a bunch of heathens like some kind of prize."

  Despite her refusal, the armchair continued to follow her, some of the human links babbling excitedly, others giving orders. Then suddenly the older woman broke away from the human chair and came at Josie, muttering sharp, harsh words that transcended the language barrier.

  "And the same to you, you old bitch," she snapped back without thinking.

  The old woman responded by slapping her across the face.

  Josie's first instinct was to punch the weathered squaw in return, but common sense prevailed. Any form of retaliation would undoubtedly be taken as an invitation for the others to pounce on her. With four against one, it wouldn't take them long to pummel her into the ground. Or worse. There was only one thing to do—find Daniel.

  Turning on her heel, Josie hurried toward the lodge he'd pointed out. As she bent over to open the flap, the old woman grabbed her from behind and pulled her away from the tipi. This time instinct did take over.

  "Take your hands off of me and leave me alone."

  As the squaw barked hateful words in her ear, Josie whirled around, locked heels with her, and then gave a mighty shove, tripping the woman into falling backward. While her victim sat stunned on the ground, Josie returned to the tipi, tore back the flap, and stepped inside the large lodge.

  A small fire burned at the center of the room, and the air was bitter with the flavor of tobacco. The smoke made it difficult to see, but she recognized the shadowy figures of no less than ten Cheyenne warriors sitting cross-legged in a circle. She couldn't make out any of their features, but all eyes were on her as she stood there, knees knocking. Remembering Daniel's advice, she moved to the left.

  "Ah—afternoon, gentlemen," she said, wondering if she hadn't made a mistake in coming here. "Don't bother to get up on my account. I was just wondering if I might have a word with my husband. Is he here?"

  In the midst of a sudden profusion of male chatter she couldn't understand, Josie heard Daniel's voice coining from somewhere in the shadows. "Yes, unfortunately, your husband is here. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

  Following the sound of his voice, Josie picked him out of the darkness. "I'm having a little trouble with these fool women outside. You said you'd be here if I needed you. What did I do to get these fellahs so riled up? I went left like you said."

  "I didn't say you could come inside this particular tipi, and you are never to just waltz into any lodge unannounced if the flap is closed. Never."

  As her eyes grew used to the darkness, Josie realized that the malevolent stares she'd been expecting had finally descended upon her. "Sorry. I didn't know."

  "You sure as hell know now." Daniel sighed heavily, then said something in Cheyenne to big-bellied Indian seated directly across from him. After he got to his feet and picked his way through the men to where Josie stood, he took her by the arm and escorted her out of the tipi.

  The minute they were outside, the group of women converged on Daniel, each of them firing a steady stream of complaints as they pointed accusing fingers at Josie. The old woman got in the most licks, and finally finished her tirade with arms folded tightly across her breasts.

  "What did she say about me?" Josie asked. "All I did was refuse to be carried around by them. The old woman even hit me, trying to make me sit on their arms."

  "You really got them mad," Daniel said, glancing from the women to Josie. "They were just trying to carry the bride to the feast, as is the custom."

  "If that's a custom, then you should have told me about it."

  "Yes, I should have," he conceded, furrowing his brow anyway. "Did you knock the old lady to the ground?"

  She hesitated as long as she could. "Sort of."

  He nodded. "She's pretty pissed about that."

  "She had it coming. She's the one who slapped my face."

  "That doesn't matter," Daniel said, still stern. "You'll have to make amends somehow. They like your pretty red hair—a lot."
r />   "You—you mean they want to scalp me?"

  "I don't think so, but then again, I'm afraid you picked a mighty ornery female to piss off. Maybe if you let me cut a length of your hair as a present for her, she'll calm down a little."

  Josie glanced at the old woman. Her arms were still crossed over her chest, her nose was tilted up, and her mouth was set in a firm, hard line. There was no way that woman was going to get so much as a strand of her hair. "Over my dead body."

  "I'm sure that She Bear would consider that amends enough." Daniel turned to the old woman and began to speak in that funny, choppy way.

  "Wait a minute," Josie said. "I didn't mean that. Go ahead, cut off whatever you think she wants."

  "Now you're learning. Excellent decision, sweetheart."

  "Just get on with it," she snapped in a whisper. "Before that bitch takes it in her head to come get the hair herself."

  Daniel took a knife from the scabbard he wore at his hip and quickly shortened each of her braids by a couple of inches. He then dropped the severed sections into her palm, removed the thongs from each, and used the bits of leather to tie the now-reduced plaits in place.

  "I suggest," he said, sheathing his knife, "that you make the offering yourself. Just be careful about the name-calling. I think she has a very good idea what a bitch is. I've used that term on her a time or two myself."

  Josie had taken a step toward the woman, but paused to look back at Daniel. "Why would you have used that name on her?"

  "Because she's my mother-in-law," he explained. "And believe me, they don't call her She Bear for nothing."

  Josie turned back toward the old woman with new respect, to find that She Bear was glaring at her though narrow eyes as black and hard as coal. Keeping her distance, she held out the severed tails of her braids. "These are a gift. I'm sorry if I offended you."

  The old woman lunged toward her, snatched the hair out of her hand, and then retreated with her prize. As she flaunted her new possession to the other women, Josie said to Daniel, "Don't you think you might have mentioned She Bear's relationship to you before you left me at her mercy?"