A Yellowstone Christmas (Yellowstone Romance Series (Christmas Novella))

by Peggy L Henderson

  He tried to shake off his worries. His wife was highly capable of fending off an intruder. Daniel had taught her to shoot a flintlock much to Aimee’s protests more than five years ago when she chose to live her life with him in this remote Rocky Mountain wilderness, a place she called Yellowstone. She’d proven herself handy with a knife, and her tomahawk skills were getting better all the time.

  Daniel couldn’t help but smile as memories of his first suggestions at showing her how to fire a rifle entered his mind. She had been adamantly against the idea, something he couldn’t comprehend at the time. While her unconventional ways and speech still left him shaking his head at times, he had fully accepted everything that was different and special about her. She had given up her entire former existence in order to live her life with him, and he respected and loved her deeply for it. Even her annual wintertime ritual of chopping down a young pine tree, and decorating it with various carvings he had made for her over the years, and other trinkets she’d fashioned from stones, shells, and feathers was something he participated in because it pleased her. No matter that his Shoshone brother ridiculed her tradition.

  His face sobered. If they hadn’t gone out on their foray to find Aimee’s Christmas tree, would the woman and her baby be safely at his cabin right now, or would she have chosen to give birth out in the elements if she saw that someone was at home? Her uneven tracks in the snow, the occasional impression of hands and knees sinking in the powder, told Daniel that she was in a hurry, but the going was rough and she was not well. Several times, large bog-like impressions indicated that she had fallen.

  Trudging through the snow for half an hour, Daniel had been unable to determine this woman’s destination. Once she veered up a steep hill, then seemed to change her mind and headed back toward the flatter terrain closer to the Madison River. It quickly became apparent that the woman’s struggles had increased. Her strides became more irregular and uneven, and she fell more often. Coming over a low rise, he finally spotted her several hundred yards ahead. She stopped and turned. She must have sensed him. Immediately, she scurried forward and increased her efforts to move through the snow. Daniel jogged easily down the incline, his snowshoes preventing him from sinking deeply into the soft powder. He quickly cut the distance between him and the fleeing woman in half with very little effort.

  While the forest had been sparse up to this point, the woman suddenly veered toward a thick grove of trees. The snow would be less deep in this area, and she might have an easier time hiding. Daniel was growing tired of this senseless pursuit. In a loud voice, he called in the language of the Shoshone, “Stop, woman. I am a friend.”

  She didn’t stop, but darted between several lodgepole trunks.

  “Damn,” Daniel cursed under his breath. Inhaling deeply, he renewed his efforts. Aimee was no doubt anxiously awaiting his return with the hungry infant’s mother.

  “I mean no harm to you. Your child will die if you don’t return with me to my cabin.” Daniel hoped her maternal instincts might take hold if he reminded her of her baby.

  The woman suddenly charged from behind a lodgepole, a shrill scream echoing through the forest. She stumbled toward him, her loose raven hair hanging in limp strands down the sides of her face, some sticking to her sweaty forehead. Her wide brown eyes showed a mixture of pain, fear, and desperation. She lunged herself at him with a knife held high above her head. Daniel ducked to the side and avoided her attack. Her momentum caused her to fall to the ground. He turned completely to face her, ready for a renewed attack. The woman groaned, then collapsed into the snow.

  Daniel rushed to her side. He turned her gently onto her back. Her eyes remained closed, but the faint gray swirls of her breath as it met the icy winter air assured him that she had merely passed out. Quickly, he scanned her from top to bottom. She wore a plain deerskin dress fashioned in the style of the Tukudeka, and tall rabbitskin-covered moccasins. Her eyes were sunken in her sallow-looking face, and her lips held a tinge of blue. She was young, perhaps no older than sixteen or seventeen summers.

  “Come on, little mother,” Daniel said softly, and gathered the woman in his arms. “I won’t allow you or your child to die. And neither will my wife.”

  Many questions flooded his mind. The answers would once again have to wait until this woman was well enough to talk. He adjusted his hold on her as he stood to his feet, and headed back in the direction of his cabin.

  Chapter Three

  “She’s resting with her baby.” Aimee entered the main room of the cabin, softly closing the bedroom door behind her. Daniel stood from stoking the coals in the hearth. He met her halfway across the room, holding his arms open. Aimee went willingly into his embrace and leaned her head against his chest, letting out a weary sigh. Daniel’s hands slid slowly up and down her back, melting away the tension in her muscles.

  “I’ll bring her something to eat in a little while. Right now she just needs sleep. She’s lost a lot of blood. If you have any rusty nails or chains, I need you to soak them in some water. She’ll have to drink that to try and replenish the iron in her blood. And she’ll need fresh meat.” Aimee lifted her head to look up at her husband. “I still can’t believe she made it as far as she did before you caught up with her.”

  Daniel offered a soft smile. His palm caressed her cheek. “You’ve done all you can for her and her son at the moment.”

  “Can we sleep up in the loft every night from now on?” Zach and Matthew’s heads popped out from between the banister rails at the top of the loft. Matthew nodded vigorously next to his brother.

  “You’ll get your room back as soon as our guest is well enough and we find her family,” Daniel said. “You two need to be asleep. It’s late.”

  The boys’ heads vanished into the darkness as abruptly as they had appeared. Hushed voices drifted down from the back of the loft.

  “They like it up there,” Aimee whispered. “I don’t see why they couldn’t stay there if they want to sleep up high like that.”

  “Sam might not like sleeping in the spare room by himself,” Daniel said, and guided Aimee to the rocking chair in the far corner of the cabin. “Sit. I’ll bring you some tea.”

  Aimee watched her husband’s back as he rummaged at the workbench, opening tins and peering into leather pouches. This day certainly hadn’t ended the way she’d planned. Her Christmas tree should be standing in the corner opposite where she sat, and be all decked out with the ornaments she’d made over the years, and the ones Daniel had carved for her. After the kids were put to bed, she’d planned to tell him what had been on her mind for days. With all that had happened today, now was not a good time to bring it up.

  “My favorite is on the top shelf, the pouch on the far right,” Aimee said with a smile, deciding it was time to help Daniel in his search for her preferred herbal tea blend.

  Daniel reached for the correct pouch and shook out some dried leaves and nettles into a tin cup, then added hot water from the kettle hanging over the fire. While the tea steeped, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

  Countless questions about the young Indian girl and her baby floated through Aimee’s mind, but she remained quiet while Daniel prepared the tea. He was not a man of many words, and she’d learned over the years that he would talk when he was ready. Only after straining the tea through some cloth into another cup did he turn to face her. Their eyes met for several seconds before Daniel brought her the steaming cup.

  “She’s not Tukudeka,” Daniel answered her unspoken question. He pulled up a chair from the table and sat facing her.

  “What makes you so sure? She hasn’t spoken a single word, and she wears the clothes of a Sheepeater.” Aimee sipped at her tea, her eyes never leaving her husband’s.

  “The knife she carries is made from buffalo bone and flint.”

  Aimee knew the Sheepeaters fashioned most of their cutting tools and arrowheads from obsidian, which was found in abundance in this area. The volcanic glass was extremely hard a
nd brittle, and could be fractured into very sharp edges that would rival a surgeon’s scalpel. The Tukudeka frequently traded the commodity with other tribes during the summer months.

  Even after knowing Daniel for more than six years, it still amazed her how he picked up on the smallest details about his natural surroundings and the people he encountered. Aimee doubted she would have even taken notice of the type of stone the girl’s knife was made of. Daniel had taught her a lot about survival in this harsh mountain wilderness they called home, but Aimee often wondered if it would take a lifetime to learn everything that Daniel knew. If he was convinced this young woman was not a Sheepeater, then she believed him.

  Daniel held his tin cup to his lips and took a long drink. His eyes narrowed slightly when he lowered the cup. He made eye contact before he spoke again. “She’s Blackfoot.”

  Aimee coughed in surprise, and blinked. Her eyebrows rose, and her heart rate increased. A sudden cold wave of dread seeped down her spine.

  “Blackfoot?” she echoed Daniel’s word. Hastily, she sipped more of her tea, hoping to dispel her sudden apprehension. The Blackfoot Indians were a warring tribe, and enemies of almost everyone.

  Daniel had nearly died six years ago after a Blackfoot ambush. Over the years, they’d had several more unpleasant encounters with hostile tribe members. Aimee’s first experience with a direct conflict had occurred in the spring of her first full year of living with Daniel, when several warriors stole Daniel’s two pack horses and several of his valuable beaver traps. Luckily, a band of Crow had been nearby, and with their help, Daniel had been able to steal his possessions back.

  “Your life is more important than a few traps and a couple of horses,” Aimee had told him adamantly, when Daniel informed her he was going after his valuables.

  “If I don’t retrieve what is mine, it will be considered a sign of weakness. I will not stand by and allow a bunch of Blackfoot thieves to rule over my life. I can’t protect you or my family if I don’t act.”

  Yet another lesson she’d had to learn. The rules and unwritten laws were different in the wilderness than where she’d grown up, in a century and world vastly different from her chosen life now. Although she feared for Daniel every time he faced an encounter with the Blackfoot, she came to understand that it was part of life here, and a man was judged on his bravery and honor.

  Aimee pushed herself out of the rocking chair, and carried her cup to the workbench. The skin along her neck tingled seconds later. She didn’t have to turn to know that Daniel stood directly behind her. Just as he always seemed to be aware of her every move, Aimee was more in tune to her husband than anything she’d ever experienced. Slowly, she turned, looking up into his waiting eyes; those deep brown eyes that drew her to him like a magnet and never ceased to take her breath away.

  “I promise we’ll get your Christmas tree brought into the house tomorrow, and you can decorate it then,” Daniel said quietly. His lips curved in a grin, and he pulled her into his embrace. Aimee snaked her arms around his neck.

  “Christmas is still a week away, if my calendar is correct,” she whispered, as Daniel’s lips descended on hers. Aimee leaned into him, her fingers weaving through his thick hair. He drew her fully up against him and deepened the kiss, eliciting a soft moan from her throat. No matter how often he touched and kissed her, it always ignited the same feelings of a first time in her. As long as she lived, Aimee knew that she’d never tire of her husband’s touch.

  When she was sure her legs had turned to putty, Daniel pulled his face away. His eyes smoldered with desire, and the slow wicked grin on his face melted her insides. He slowly caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, his eyes speaking to her in a way that required no words. Her heart overflowed with love for this man. Not for a moment had she ever regretted her decision to leave the modern world of the twenty-first century behind to live in this primitive nineteenth century wilderness. She couldn’t imagine any other life; a life without Daniel was inconceivable.

  Aimee slowly, reluctantly, pulled out of his embrace. She would much rather spend her time wrapped in her husband’s arms, but at the moment, their unexpected houseguest required her attention. “I hope we’ll find out more about our guests before the week is over,” she said, and took a step back. Daniel’s hand lingered at her waist. “I still don’t understand how a Blackfoot woman, wearing Tukudeka clothing, came to be here in this valley this time of year.”

  “She will have to provide the answers when she is awake. I don’t want any –” Daniel’s words were cut short by the loud wail of an infant. Aimee ducked around him and headed for the bedroom that her three sons had shared up to this point. Hopefully the baby’s cries wouldn’t wake Sam, who slept in the main bedroom.

  Aimee glanced over her shoulder at Daniel before she slowly opened the bedroom door. He nodded to her, but didn’t make a move to follow. Aimee entered the room. The young mother scrambled to a sitting position in the bed, and gathered her baby to her breast.

  Aimee offered a soft smile and closed the door behind her. The young woman’s eyes widened in fear and wonder. Her gaze lingered on Aimee’s hair. Aimee was used to stares from the Indians and occasional white trappers she encountered. Her golden blond locks caused wide eyes of wonder wherever she went. Even in St. Louis, a place she’d visited with Daniel on a couple of occasions, people stared at her. She’d learned quickly to ignore the hungry, intent looks in men’s eyes, and all it took was one glare from Daniel to send most mountain men scurrying in the other direction. Her husband protected her with the ferocity of a mother grizzly, and no one had ever dared to challenge him.

  “How are you feeling?” Aimee asked softly in the dialect of the Sheepeater Shoshone. She wasn’t sure if this young woman could understand her, but Aimee hadn’t learned to speak but a few words in the language of the Blackfoot, and she doubted the girl would know any English.

  The young mother continued to stare at her with wide eyes. Aimee moved closer to the bed, causing the girl to scoot as far as possible to the opposite edge of the mattress.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Aimee said. “You are weak after giving birth. Please don’t be afraid. My husband, White Wolf, and I, are concerned for you.”

  The girl swallowed, then opened her mouth. Abruptly, she closed it again, apparently changing her mind about speaking.

  “Are you hungry?” Aimee asked, stepping closer to the bed.

  The girl nodded slightly. Aimee smiled fully. In the back of her mind, she wondered how a Blackfoot girl would know the Shoshone language. That she understood what Aimee said became obvious.

  “I’ll be right back with some food,” Aimee said and moved to leave.

  “You are the woman they call Dosa Haiwi?” The girl spoke in broken Shoshone. Aimee turned back toward her.

  “Yes.” She nodded her head. “I want to help you and your son.” Encouraged that the girl had finally spoken, Aimee walked up to the bed, and sat on the edge of the mattress.

  The young woman glanced at the baby suckling at her breast. “Will he live?” she asked tentatively.

  “If you get well, he will live,” Aimee said. “He looks strong and healthy, but you must regain your strength so you have milk to feed him.”

  The girl nodded. Slowly, she raised her head and made eye contact with Aimee. “I want him to grow strong, like his father was,” she said softly. Tears shimmered in her eyes.

  “Where is your husband?” Aimee asked tentatively. The fact that this girl spoke of the baby’s father in the past tense didn’t escape her. Her heart went out to the young mother when tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “He died, trying to protect me,” she whimpered.

  “Protect you from what?” Or from whom?

  The girl shook her head. Instead of answering her question, she said, “My husband fell from a ravine two days ago. His fall caused the snow to loosen all around him. He was buried under it. He told me even before then that if anything were to happen to h
im, that I should seek out the white woman with the golden hair living in the valley of the Madison, the one they call Dosa Haiwi.”

  “Your husband was buried under an avalanche?” Aimee reached for the girl’s hand and squeezed gently. A slow nod was her answer. “How do you know he’s dead?”

  The girl looked up at her. “He was buried under so much snow, I couldn’t see him.” She sobbed, and Aimee patted her arm.

  “Don’t talk about it now if you don’t want to. It’ll only upset your baby. Let me bring you some food, and you can tell me more when your baby sleeps.”

  The girl shot her a grateful look, and nodded again. Aimee stood, and quietly opened the door. More questions filled her mind now than when she first stepped into the room.

  Chapter 4

  Daniel shook the snow from the young pine tree, holding it out to the side like a warrior holding a war lance. He planned to join the trunk of the tree to a base of two flat boards of wood and have the tree standing beside the window in the cabin before Aimee was awake. The warmth of the cabin would melt away any remaining frost on the needles.

  He was sorry her plans had been interrupted the day before. His wife always looked forward to this time of year, and decorating her tree was one tradition she never wavered from. Daniel participated in the ritual because it brought such joy to Aimee, even if he didn’t fully understand it. As an added incentive for his cooperation with her traditions, Aimee always baked gingerbread on the day of her tree decorating. She’d been nearly beside herself with happiness when she’d seen the aromatic spice at the dry goods shop in St. Louis the first time he took her to the city four years ago. Along with nutmeg and cinnamon, ginger was one of her most guarded pantry items.

  Daniel glanced toward the cabin, wondering if anyone was awake yet. He hadn’t heard the infant cry. He fully intended to speak with their unexpected houseguest this morning, but he would wait until Aimee was awake. He didn’t want to frighten the young woman by interrogating her alone, but he needed some answers soon. What if there were other Blackfoot in the area? He had to be prepared for a potential attack. During the cold months, the Blackfoot migrated further to the south or north of the Yellowstone Plateau to winter in less harsh conditions. Just like the mighty grizzly bear hibernated and posed no threat during this time, neither did the Blackfoot.