Untamed

by Sharon Ihle

  Josie was down at the swollen creek with Daniel and the twins washing all the bedding in the house when another surprise visitor approached on horseback, this one corning in from the east.

  "Doing a little spring cleaning, are you?" he asked, climbing down from his mount.

  "Caleb," Josie cried, dropping a soggy blanket in the creek and running to him. Hugging her brother close to her breast, she said, "I've missed you so much—what took you so long to come see me?"

  "Been digging out from under that god-awful winter, I guess." He broke out of his sister's embrace and shook hands with Daniel, who'd approached. "We took a real beating down at the mission. How'd you folks do up here on the hill?"

  Daniel blew out an exasperated sigh. "Like to froze to death a couple of times, and I lost most of my cattle, but we're doing all right."

  Caleb nodded sagely, looking as if he'd aged several years since Josie had last seen him. 'There's dead cattle carcasses everywhere. Word is that ranchers in our area lost sixty percent or even more of their herds. A lot of them went out of business."

  "Damn," said Daniel. "I knew other cattlemen must have suffered some, too, but I didn't know things were that bad."

  "How bad can it be for you two?" asked Caleb, grinning like the young man she remembered. "I heard you went and got yourselves a white buffalo. Is it true?"

  "It sure is," said Josie, linking arms with her brother. "Mind if we go to the corral so I can show him, Daniel?"

  "Of course not." He shooed them away. "Go on and visit with each other for a while. The twins and I have this laundry situation under control, don't we, boys?"

  Josie could hear the twins chipping away at their father in Cheyenne as she and Caleb walked away, undoubtedly scolding him for lining them up with even more "women's work" when they should be out playing in the sun instead.

  When she and Caleb reached the corral, Josie gave him a full minute to gawk at the baby bison before she offered any commentary. Across the way, several chiefs decked out in feathered headdresses lurked near the tree line, straining to get a better view of the animal without upsetting its mother.

  "I named her Miracle," Josie said at last, casting a loving gaze on the calf. "Isn't she beautiful'?"

  "Damn," said Caleb, as awestruck as anyone else who saw Miracle for the first time. "She's something all right."

  "She's more than just something, Caleb. A white buffalo is sacred to the Indian tribes in these parts, more important even than the scripture the nuns are teaching the children at the mission. She's so special to them, in fact, that I've given Miracle to the Cheyenne. They'll take her to their encampment when she's weaned."

  It hadn't been an easy decision to make, but Josie was proud of it and the fact that she'd made it for what she saw as all the right reasons. There had been no sense of guilt or further pressure from Daniel, or any selfish motives behind the decision. While Josie had never been particularly religious, she did recognize an all-being, someone who filled a far more significant slot in the universe than mere mortals ever could. If she played a vital role in what had occurred here on Daniel's ranch, it was simply the fact that she'd been chosen by Sweetpea to guard over her so that her spiritual offspring could be born into relative safety.

  Josie suddenly realized that Caleb was looking at her with the same awe he'd reserved for the calf. "Well, ain't you something," he said.

  Still uncomfortable with the decision, or rather the reaction of those who'd learned of her decision—Daniel and Long Belly had been fawning over her as if she were some kind of saint—Josie lost her temper.

  "I'm not a greedy, selfish little hog, you know." She lifted her chin indignantly. "I can do the right thing by others when I figure out what the right thing is."

  "I wasn't calling you greedy. I just know how much you used to hate Indians, s'all, and so it kinda surprised me that you'd do something so special for them."

  Josie had to look away as her new best friend 'tears' sneaked up on her again. "Yeah, well," she muttered, "I guess that's because I didn't used to know that Indians are simply folks like us—and that they're just doing the best they can to survive."

  Caleb threw a surprisingly muscular arm across her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "I'm proud of you, Josie. I come to pretty much that same conclusion after spending the winter working with them Cheyenne kids."

  She had to tell him sooner or later. Now seemed the perfect opening. "Speaking of kids," Josie muttered. "It seems that I'm going to be having one of my own around the end of August."

  Caleb released her as if she'd suddenly grown spikes. Then he hopped back a few steps, looked her up and down, and said, "You mean you're, ah, gonna be somebody's ma?"

  She nodded, dislodging a single tear.

  "But I thought marrying this fellah was a temporary thing so you could get a ranch. I never knew you was really gonna be his wife."

  She shrugged, embarrassed. "Me neither. It just sort of happened."

  Caleb propped one of his gangly legs on the bottom rung of the corral and draped his long arms across the top rail. Then he burst out laughing.

  "What's so funny?" Josie asked, hands on hips.

  "I shoulda come to see you a couple of weeks back," he said, still chuckling. "But I was too afraid to stop by until I heard about the white buffalo."

  "Afraid of what?"

  Wiping the grin off his face, Caleb turned to her and said, "I was afraid to tell you that I ain't gonna be your partner no more, Silly, huh?"

  Josie doubled up her fist and gave him a quick rap on the forehead. "What do you mean you aren't going to be my partner? I need you, Caleb."

  In a hurry to put a safe distance between them, he tripped and nearly fell as he untangled himself from the fence. "You don't need me now that you're gonna be a ma."

  "What's a baby got to do with our ranch? We're just a little delayed is all." She pointed to Miracle. "Take another look at what we've got to entice a banker now. Not only do we have the last living buffalo, she is the mother of a rare white buffalo. With any luck, Long Belly will find the bull that sired the calf, and then maybe she'll have another. Bankers will be throwing money at us, Caleb. You can't quit now."

  He had the decency to look a little guilty, but surprising her, he stuck to his guns. "Sorry, Josie, but I never wanted to be a rancher. I only agreed to be your partner because you wanted it so much."

  Even though something inside her wasn't as fully committed to the idea as it once was, Josie wouldn't let her brother off so easily. "And now I don't matter?"

  " 'Course you matter, but now you're a wife, almost a ma—

  "Will you leave that blasted baby out of this discussion?"

  Caleb looked at her cockeyed, but nodded. "All right, but all's I was saying is that you got everything you need right here if you want to go into ranching. Me, I found another calling."

  Part of her wanted to continue arguing with him, but another, bigger part of Josie was more interested in this new side of her brother. "What calling is that, Caleb?" she asked softly.

  Looking down at the toes of his boots, he shuffled his feet as he said, "I'm gonna stay on at the mission with Father van der Velden. Maybe even become a priest like him."

  Since religion had never been a part of the Baum family life, this declaration came as quite a shock to Josie. She stood there staring at her brother for a long moment, wondering whether it would be appropriate to congratulate him or if she ought to just rap him alongside the head again.

  Finally she said, "What's got you so fascinated about church all of a sudden? Is it the Latin, the pot of smelly smoke, or do you fancy the long black robe and funny hats that priest wears?"

  Caleb looked away from her and back out to the small miracle in the corral. "None of that, Josie," he murmured serenely. "What I fancy is peace, and love, and the chance to learn the reason for our existence. I'm happy helping others, and I want you to be happy for me."

  Feeling like a piece of cow dung stuck to the bott
om of her own moccasin, Josie patted Caleb's back about the same time that Miracle, who'd been butting heads with the other calves, called to her mother.

  "I'm sorry I didn't understand at first," Josie said, preparing to let her brother out of his promise entirely. "I was just—"

  "Wait." Caleb said, staring intently at the white buffalo. He continued to study Miracle for a few minutes, then suddenly turned to Josie and said, "Did you hear that?"

  She listened a moment. "What?"

  "Your white miracle out there just bawled to get her ma's attention."

  Josie looked at him, wondering if too much smelly smoke could fog up a fellah's brain. "So?"

  "Bawled, Josie, as in mooed."

  Her opinion didn't change and neither did the reply. "And so?"

  "So I don't know much about buffaloes, but I do know that they grunt or maybe snort from the time they're born. They don't moo. Cows moo."

  Josie's gaze shot to the corral. "What are you trying to say?"

  "That your miracle ain't nothing but what a rancher friend of Pa's from up north calls a cattalo."

  * * *

  Josie swore her brother to secrecy, and then kept the information to herself until later that evening. After Caleb had headed back to the mission and the twins were asleep in the loft, she finally made herself approach Daniel with the news.

  "Feel like taking a little walk outside?" The nights were still chilly, so she took her jacket off the rack. "I've got something I need to talk to you about."

  Daniel had been running himself ragged trying to put the ranch in order as well as keep the constant stream of visitors under control. For a minute she thought he was going to decline the invitation and turn in early, but he grabbed his own jacket and followed her out onto the porch.

  "What is it, Josie? You're not having second thoughts about turning Miracle over to the tribe, are you?"

  "No, of course not." The fact that he thought she might do such a thing grated on Josie, but the slight paled in comparison to the subject she had to bring up. Broaching it as gently as possible, she asked, "Has Long Belly found any fresh buffalo tracks yet?"

  Daniel shook his head. "He started near the wallow that Sissy spotted a while back and has been circling it along with the area where you found Sweetpea, but nothing has turned up so far—not even tracks."

  "Well," she said, eager to get it out in the open. "I believe all he has to do to trail the sire of that baby buffalo is follow your shorthorn bull around the pasture."

  They'd almost reached the corral. Daniel stopped dead in the middle of the yard. "What did you say?"

  "Caleb thinks your white bull fathered Miracle."

  Daniel laughed. "I wouldn't normally put the words `Caleb' and `think' together. This is a joke, right?"

  "No, Daniel. I wish it were a joke, but I'm afraid it's true."

  He shot her a particularly suspicious look, and then continued his journey to the corral. Although it was so dark that it was difficult to see, Daniel moved, right up to the fence and studied the calf. Sweetpea, for once, seemed completely oblivious of his presence.

  After a while, Daniel finally said in a very quiet voice, "Why does Caleb think my bull sired Miracle? She looks just like any other buffalo calf I've ever seen, except she's white."

  Josie joined him by the fence. "Have you ever listened to her? She moos."

  Daniel glanced back into the corral, then buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Holy hell. She does, doesn't she."

  "Caleb says that buffalo calves don't make the noises Miracle has been making. They grunt or snort."

  "I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but Caleb's right."

  "I've been around buffalo of all ages most of my life. I don't know why I didn't notice that something wasn't right with her myself."

  Josie gave him a few minutes to absorb the shock, and then addressed the more pressing issue. "What are we going to do? Our Cheyenne friends have so many hopes and dreams pinned on Miracle, I shudder to think what they'll do when they find out she's not quite what they thought she was."

  He pondered this a long moment, head hung low, shoulders stumped, and finally straightened up with a weary sigh. "We aren't going to do anything. I can't tell them she's not really a buffalo. I simply cannot take the only scrap of hope those people have had in years and throw it back in their faces."

  "But won't they figure it out sooner or later?"

  "Undoubtedly. What's the harm if it turns out to be later?"

  Josie considered this, knowing that Daniel was right even if it did feel a little wrong. It wasn't as if they'd sold the tribe a pig in a poke. They'd given the Cheyenne a spiritual gift, bestowing it with nothing but the best of intentions.

  "I'm not telling—ever," she said, forging a pact.

  "Neither am I." Daniel turned to Josie and pulled her into his arms. "What about Caleb?"

  "I made him swear on a Bible that he'd keep our secret safe. He wants to be a priest, so I figure we don't have any worries there."

  "A priest? Caleb?" Daniel laughed, but then quieted almost immediately. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. Working at the mission ought to cut the odds to zero of him carrying a gun and accidentally shooting some poor fool's head off. Neither one of you should be allowed to handle weapons."

  Josie slapped at his chest. "Don't pick on me or my brother. He's my favorite, remember?"

  Daniel kissed her forehead. "I remember. I also recall that Caleb was going to be your ranching partner. How can he do that and be a priest at the same time?"

  "He can't." Josie sighed. "I guess I'll just have to go it alone."

  "You don't have to, you know. Seems to me like you and I would make pretty good partners, and we already know that our livestock gets along."

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Josie knew that she'd been thinking the same thing herself. It would cost her the precious freedom she'd worked so hard to claim, but then, what was freedom if not the right to choose her own circumstances? She no longer felt trapped or dependent, stifled or caged. She was as free as she'd ever been in her entire life.

  Snuggling against Daniel's chest, Josie whispered, "You mean you want to breed your bull to Sweetpea again?"

  He shrugged. "Why not? If it worked once, it can work again. We might even get another white buffalo, one that we'll have to market as a—a—"

  "Cattalo according to Caleb."

  "A cattalo, huh?" With a husky chuckle, Daniel took Josie's face between his gentle hands. "What about your ranch, sweetheart? I know how important it is for you to own your own ranch."

  She shrugged, but didn't feel the slightest bit indifferent. "I'm willing to wait a couple more years before looking into that. You know, until we get your herd built up enough for the Cheyenne to take over."

  "We?" he said, his voice faint with hope. "You mean you'd help me here for as long as it takes?"

  "Sure. I know a whole lot more about cattle raising than you do, and might even get it done quicker than you think." She glanced at him with a conciliatory smile. "Besides, now that I know a few members of the tribe, I want to help them out. After all—the only bad Indians I know of are the ones who killed my family."

  "Josie." Daniel reached for her, tucking her into his embrace. "What about after, when the Cheyenne can manage on their own? Will you still want your own place?"

  "The Buffalo Queen Ranch? You bet I will."

  She felt him stiffen as he said, "Then you haven't changed your plans about leaving us."

  "Leaving you?" Those damnable tears sprang into Josie's eyes, but before she dissolved into sobs, she managed to say, "If I have my way, you're the ones who are going to have to do the leaving."

  Daniel looked so confused by then that Josie quickly put him out of his misery.

  "I never said you and the twins couldn't come live on my ranch, did I?"

  PART THREE

  No one can be perfectly free till all are free;

  No one can be perfectly moral til
l all are moral;

  No one can be perfectly happy till all are happy.

  —Herbert Spencer

  English philosopher

  Chapter 27

  Late August, 1887

  Josie rolled off the bed and lumbered toward the door. "That's it," she said. "I'm not going to do this."

  Daniel beat her to the door, no big trick considering that Josie's belly was so huge, it took her an hour to cross the room.

  He stood before her, blocking her path. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

  "Anywhere but here, so get out of my way. I am not doing this."

  Daniel folded his arms across his chest and stood his ground. "You don't have any choice, sweetheart. That baby is coming whether you like it or not."

  "Well, I don't like it and I'm not having it."

  About that time another pain rolled across her belly and tightened the muscles there into a fist. She leaned against the wall, grunting involuntarily, like a buffalo in heat, and waited for the worst of it to pass. She glanced out the window and saw the twins playing in the yard. They were riding little stick horses and carrying toy bows and arrows, each doing his best to try and murder the other one first. Boys being boys. Please God, she thought, trying desperately to believe in Him. If I have to have a baby, let it be a girl.

  "Josie, sweetheart." Daniel reached out to her as if thinking of drawing her into his embrace.

  "Don't touch me, you no-account bastard. Leave me be a minute."

  He leapt back as if scalded, then stood there waiting for her next signal. Unfortunately for Josie, it was a long time in coming. Not only were the pains hitting her so frequently now that it was all she could do to catch her breath between them, but once they grabbed hold of her belly, they hung on with the tenacity of a mink on a mouse.