Lakota Legacy: Wolf DreamerCowboy Days and Indian NightsSeven Days

by Madeline Baker

  “It’s bad luck to lose part of your costume. Especially a feather.”

  “Can’t prove that by you, Red. You were…” The technician raised a warning finger. “Don’t say lucky, hell. That’s what’s gonna jinx you. You were lucky not to lose an—”

  “I took a small hit,” Ryder told Meredith. “Two little stitches.”

  “Three,” the medic corrected as he closed the box.

  “Yeah, but the extra one is just for looks. This guy agreed to tighten up the skin around my eyes while he was at it. Cowboy facelift, right, Doc?”

  Meredith was not amused. “Tell me you’re finished for today.”

  “Can’t quit now,” he quipped, taking her hand in his. “Gotta get the other side done or I’ll look like Quasimodo.”

  “Whom I personally find very attractive. Esmerelda was too young and foolish to appreciate…” Laying her free hand low on his chest, she detected some kind of binding under his shirt. “What’s this?”

  He gave a sheepish smile. “Ace, the bandage of champions. That’s just for looks.”

  “Nobody can see it,” she pointed out.

  “You can.” He grinned and whispered, “Later, in private. I’ll take all the sympathy you want to dish out.”

  “That’s the house special.” She squeezed his hand and tried to drag him off the table. “Let’s go home so I can start dishing.”

  “One more event.” He wouldn’t be dragged. He opted for a nimble hop. “I’ll take sympathy for cracked ribs, but not for a light pay envelope.”

  “Cracked ribs?”

  “Tender,” he amended. “Tender ribs, like you might cook up for me tonight. Would you do that?”

  She glanced away. It was no joke. There was nothing funny about this dear man getting kicked in the head by a bucking bull. She found herself so allergic to the thought of “one more event” that it made her throat close up.

  She hardly recognized her own hoarse voice saying, “I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

  He slipped an arm around her shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I won’t get hurt. I’d tell you to stay back here and not watch, but I want to show off for you.”

  Big kid, she thought. Big, lovable kid, I can feel that tremor in your body.

  “Show off, my foot,” she muttered pointlessly.

  “Like fun,” he countered, weaseling a smile out of her as she mouthed his comeback incredulously, rolling her eyes. “Hey, those cute little piggies go to nobody’s market but mine.”

  “Okay, then. Show off, my—”

  “Uh-uh.” He touched his finger to her lips. “You ain’t showin’ off nothin’ of yours, and all I’m showing is my best tricks. Sure it sounds juvenile, but that’s the way sports are. Games to keep grownups young. My days as a bullfighter are numbered—down to double, maybe single digits. But right now I feel like a kid, and I wanna show you what I can do.”

  She loved the sparkle in his eyes. It was full of hope and joy and eagerness to please. Like his bandage and his unruly hair, it lent blythe boyishness to his mature face.

  He tried to lift a permission-seeking eyebrow, but the bandage weighed it down.

  She nodded. She knew he was humoring her, but since there was no stopping him, she might as well go along for the ride and try to fathom the unfathomable.

  The bullfighting event pitted the clown’s skills at dodging disaster against the bull that had proven most adept at toying with clowns. It was a judged event in which the clowns earned points for tempting the animal to chase, toss, lunge and plunge. They scored the most points for touching the bull without getting touched back, a feat that required quickness, agility, vigilance and raw nerve.

  Ryder possessed every trait, but there was an added dimension to his performance. He was foxy. The other men in the contest were clearly younger than he was, but they wasted moves and missed cues. In the end, ol’ Turtle racked up the most points and won the cash prize.

  Meredith waited at the appointed place and watched the crowd stream toward the Minneapolis skyway or the sidewalks, draining away to a mere trickle by the time Raven greeted her from behind with a woof that translated to found her!

  She turned to pet the dog and discovered that his master had cleaned up very nicely. He was grinning from ear to ear, striding behind his canine scout, clearly feeling his oats.

  Using his arm as a shepherd’s crook, he hauled her in by the neck, snugged her up close to his side, and demanded, “Was that so awful?”

  “Yes, it was, but you were amazing.”

  With a firm, joyous kiss, he rewarded her lips for their honesty. “Not bad for an old man, huh?”

  “The way you move? If you’re old, I’m an antique.” Putting her arm around the back of his waist she anchored herself for a walk-and-talk only he knew where. They weren’t going out the way they’d come in, but she followed along happily. He was all in one piece. “There are much safer ways to make a living, you know.”

  He flexed his free arm in a passable Popeye impression. “I yam what I yam, and it ain’t no doctor, lawyer or sailor man.”

  “How about an Indian chief?”

  “How about a rodeo clown?” Still walking, he tipped his head toward hers and poured a promise into her ear. “You play your cards right, I might give you a roll in my barrel.”

  “I’m not the best card player.”

  “You were looking for a king, and you drew a joker,” he deduced as he pushed their way through a No Admittance door.

  “I didn’t even know I was in the game, but if the winner gets a roll in your barrel…” She offered a coy smile. “Aren’t jokers supposed to be wild? They can be anything, can’t they?”

  “Not a doctor, lawyer or—”

  “But any card I need. I want that barrel ride.”

  “Get ready to rock and roll, Merry m’girl.”

  With a flourish, he pushed open the gate to the arena.

  “Here?” She surveyed the scene in disbelief. Workers were already dismantling the pens at the far end.

  “Right here in front of Mr. Target and all his toadies. Not to mention Mr. Turtle. Unless you’ve got one of these at home.” He laid a hand on the barrel he’d used during the performance. He’d apparently stashed it in a chute when he’d made his latest crazy plan. “A rubberized turtle shell? Way in the back of your garage, maybe?”

  She laughed. “I think my last clown took all his toys with him.”

  “Funny girl,” he said as he rolled out the barrel. “We both know I’m your first. Doctors and lawyers come a dime a dozen, but it ain’t every day you find a clown on your doorstep.”

  She eyed the brightly painted, open-ended barrel, then the huge arena. No one seemed to notice them. A front-end loader and a dump truck were revving up at the far end. She had about two seconds to make up her mind.

  She saved one to add to the two more she had for tucking herself inside the barrel before anybody besides Ryder and Raven could see who was making this ridiculous move. She positioned herself the way she had seen him do, so that she would somersault as the contraption rolled.

  “Use your hands and feet to brace yourself, hon. Otherwise you’ll start rattling around in there like dice in a cup.”

  “Start slow, okay?”

  “That’s always the best way.”

  End over end she went, but without much speed, it was a challenge to become part of the motion.

  “How’re you doing?” he asked.

  “Can we go a little faster?”

  “Already?”

  “Yes! Keep it going. It’s like a merry-go-round.”

  He laughed. “It’s exactly that.”

  Faster, faster still, and soon it became a bona fide carnival ride. Meredith wasn’t sure where the squeals were coming from, or the kiddish Wheeee! or the Do it some more! But she was pretty sure she was the only barrel rider in the place.

  She heard a man’s voice call out, “What the hell are you doing, Red?”

 
“Tumbling my landlady,” came the answer.

  “Hell of a way to pay the rent.”

  The rolling slowed as the laughter swelled.

  “I gotta evict you both. Time to clean up the sandbox,” the man said. “But I can’t wait to see who’s in there.”

  Ryder’s upside-down face appeared at the end of the barrel. “Need help getting out?”

  “No. Just scraping my dignity off the sides of the jar so I can…” Head spinning, she crawled out on all fours. “…put it all back in place and…” A face-licking from Raven brought her head up. Standing over her were two grinning men. “…say hello to your little friend. Mr. Target, I presume?”

  “Sam Foggerty.” He and Ryder leaned down simultaneously, each with an extended hand. “I just work here.”

  “How do you do?” She accepted both hands for the quick, if graceless, up-hauling. Time for some wit. “I’m Merry Go-Round. You’ve probably heard of my cousin, Holly.”

  “Can’t say that I have. Have you heard the one about the crazy rodeo clown who put his landlady in a fake turtle shell?”

  “And there he kept her very well,” Meredith recited, head wobbling woozily.

  Ryder caught her when she swayed. “It’s a cheap high, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know how you walk straight after that, never mind evade the horns of any dilemma. Do I look as silly as I feel?”

  “How silly do you feel?” Ryder teased, backing away. “Don’t tell me. Let me find out for myself.”

  She started to whap Ryder in the chest but remembered the Ace bandage and turned the whap into a wave. “Nice meeting you, Sam.”

  “Yeah, same here.” Pausing to take another closer look at the barrel, Sam turned to Ryder. “You think I could get my wife into one of these? I want to see that look on her face.”

  Ryder laughed. “It helps to play with a few cards up your sleeve.”

  Chapter 7

  It was unlike Ryder to disappear after they had shared a late, light supper. Meredith couldn’t help having a peek out the front window to reassure herself that his pickup truck was still parked in her driveway. Since they were nowhere to be found downstairs, she assumed that her boarder and his faithful companion must have been too tired from their day’s work even to say goodnight. But on her final window-and-door check, she discovered a black dog on her back doorstep.

  “What are you doing out here, Raven?” She flipped the porch light on.

  “He’s asking you to come out and play,” said a voice that seemed to come from the backyard gazebo. “In the dark.”

  She turned the porch light off. “I’ll grab a sweater.”

  “In the nude.”

  Her laughter misted in the early-autumn air. “Raven, you dog, you. You’ve got yourself covered.”

  “I’ll have you covered as soon as you get yourself over here, Merry, m’girl. What do you call this thing?”

  “A gazebo.” She followed Raven across damp grass, past the moonlit white birdbath and the huge old maple that was just beginning to drop its leaves. “I’ve hardly used it since my boys left,” she said. “I’ll bet it’s full of spider webs and dusty furniture.”

  “Not anymore,” the voice said lazily. “Is it for rent? I think I could live here.”

  The screen door whined as she let herself in. Even though the octagonal interior was dark, she could see that the wicker furniture had been moved to accommodate the hammock, which she hadn’t hung up in years. No wonder Ryder’s voice sounded so relaxed.

  “If I covered the screens, it would feel like a tipi,” he went on. “’Course I’d be knocking on your door pretty often, looking for conveniences.”

  “Like…?”

  “Well, you know, indoor plumbing. Probably food and water.”

  “I’ve spoiled you,” she murmured, hanging back, wondering whether he thought of her as a convenience, too.

  “That you have. Come over here and let me return the favor.” He made no move to get up, but she could see him reaching out to her in the dark. “I think this is a two-passenger contraption.”

  She joined him under the quilt that she had left neatly folded on the foot of his bed. Immediately he enfolded her in his arms, and unless her nose was mistaken…

  “I came out for a smoke and decided to make myself at home,” he confessed.

  “I didn’t know—”

  “I don’t, not really—except once in a while when I’m celebrating. I used to celebrate big. Now it’s just a cigarette and a ‘Way to go, Red Hawk. Well, thanks, Red Hawk.”’

  “Didn’t I congratulate you?”

  “Uh-huh.” He nuzzled her temple, touched his lips to her cheek.

  “Didn’t I make you a special flaming dessert?”

  “Very special,” he whispered. “I would have offered to share my cigarette with you, but I was too busy trying to hide it from you.”

  “Well, don’t. I’m not your mama.”

  “And I couldn’t be happier.” He slipped his hand beneath the bottom of her sweater. Warm fingers on her abdomen. Warm breath against the side of her neck. “Because I have something else I want to share with you tonight. I’m betting that cherry dessert was just the first of the flaming sweets you’ll want to share with me.”

  “Oh, Ryder,” she whispered. She wanted to bet on him, too, but she was afraid of the odds. Meredith Woodward was a safe bet, but surely the odds-makers would tell her that Ryder Red Hawk was not. “I’ve never been so scared as I was today, watching you escape that bull by the skin of your teeth. My heart was in my throat the whole time.”

  “Impressed you, did I?” Talk of his triumph momentarily distracted him from feeling her up. “Who’s that other guy you like? Russell who?”

  “He’s just an actor. You’re the real gladiator.”

  “My hat’s gonna be too small, you keep this up much longer.” He turned to face her, pressing his hips to hers. “This, on the other hand…”

  She smiled in the dark, glad she had him back. She struggled to shift her trapped arm as she slipped her fingers beneath his belt buckle.

  He chuckled. “No, the other hand.”

  “Where’s your next rodeo? Where and…” She gripped his belt, felt him growing, going harder inside his jeans. “How much longer…”

  “How much can you take?”

  “Of you?” Her throaty laugh sounded as naughty as his. “I don’t know. I know I haven’t had enough.”

  “I don’t know what else—”

  “How much longer can you stay?” she demanded, hauling on his belt as though it gave her a real handle on him.

  “I’ve got staying power to spare. You can count on that.”

  “Can I?” She tugged at him again. “How about tomorrow? Can I count on it tomorrow?”

  “Are we shooting for a record or something?” A slight shift of his weight had rope noisily rubbing against rope, body quietly rubbing against body. “Hey, I’m game.”

  “Men and their power.” She drew a slow, deep breath. “Power this, power that. I don’t know about staying power, but you’ve all got plenty of going power. Always places to go.” The last came on a whisper.

  “We don’t always have places to stay. That’s the hard part, and it gets harder as time goes by. You stay in so many different places, but they all feel the same. Temporary.”

  “I wouldn’t like that.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  She wouldn’t, and she wished he wouldn’t. Not this time. Silently she counted his buttons, imagined undoing each one as she touched it, but she was more pressed to snuggle awhile. It was a special kind of warmth they made together—all the better because it was natural, and the crisp night air was natural, and it all came together perfectly.

  “Does this house feel the same to you as the others?” she asked.

  “Not with you here. You made it feel different as soon as you let me in. Even when you were talking like you didn’t have a spare room, I felt like you had room for me.
” He smoothed her hair back from her face, which followed the direction of his hand as though magnetized. She kissed his palm, and he whispered, “Ah, Meredith, I’m glad I stopped here. I came so close to driving on.”

  A wild thought flew from head to tongue to ear before she could clip its wings.

  “You could stay.”

  He looked at her. She didn’t have to see the look in his eyes. She could feel it. She felt him go tense in ways that had nothing to do with to the proximity of her body, in muscles that the motivation to move on would surely engage.

  She was going to lose him.

  She shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t push it, but it was out now, and she couldn’t make herself leave it at that. She had to run on. Clarify. Make it worse.

  “Live here,” she urged boldly, more brazen than she had ever been in her life. “Not as a boarder, but…”

  “A live-in boyfriend?”

  “You may be a few years younger than I am, but you’re hardly a boy.”

  “A live-in lover, then.”

  Say yes, she told herself, but she swallowed the simple answer and moved, oh so foolishly, to further complicate.

  “I enjoy your loving, but there’s more to it than that. I enjoy your company. I would enjoy having you live here with me.”

  Ryder took his time.

  Meredith literally had to hold her tongue between her teeth to keep it still.

  “This might sound old-fashioned,” he said finally, “but I don’t think a man should be living with a woman rent-free unless they’re married.”

  “Oh, all right,” she blurted out. “I’ll charge you rent.”

  “What’s wrong with the other option? I’ve never been married, but it can’t be that bad.”

  Of all the responses she might have predicted, she would never have been ready for that one.

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I’ve never been married, either.”

  Unless she missed her guess, it had been her turn to dish out a bit of a shocker.

  “My son didn’t tell you that I wasn’t married to his father?”

  “I don’t know why he would. I sure never asked.”

  “But you’re sure surprised. I can feel it in your bones, Ryder, so don’t even try to deny it.”