Even Scarlett ran her fingers through her hair a half dozen times, whereas Jo would have checked her buttons and Mariska would have smoothed down her skirt. All the women Jimmy knew possessed a certain amount of self-consciousness about their appearance. Of course, it had been many years since he’d spent time amongst a tribe. Those of Quanto’s people who’d called the Mountain home migrated each summer and fewer returned each winter.
Then one winter, they simply hadn’t come.
“Why aren’t you going to ask her?” Shane’s question brought him back to the present and Jimmy leaned forward to check the rabbits. They were nearly done. From their guest’s appearance, she hadn’t eaten well recently. A pinched look added to the haunting shadows in her eyes. Of course she hasn’t eaten. She said they slaughtered her people.
“Because she’s our guest,” Jimmy answered. “We do not interrogate our guests.”
Incredulous, Shane folded his arms and shook his head. “We don’t know anything about her.”
“We know she might be Fevered.” Still facing the rabbit, he watched Blue’s reaction to the word. She listened, but no comprehension eased the frown on her forehead. Not speaking English didn’t surprise him. Many tribes didn’t bother, not unless they traded with the whites.
Of those that did, none had ever been women. At least not that he’d met.
“All the more reason we need to know.” Dammit, Shane behaved like a dog with a bone.
Or a surly Cody. The thought sparked a moment of humor. Cody didn’t like not knowing either. For a long time, his brother stated there were two kinds of people in the world—his family and everyone else. Did? He still does. Jimmy glanced at Shane, then Blue. The only thing that had truly changed was the size of their family. “She’s our guest, Shane.” Time for a lesson. “When we invite someone to share our fire, we extend to them the courtesy and respect we would to our elders and our family. In her case, she is a shaman. At the very least, she’s a medicine woman of some power. We show her respect until proven otherwise.”
Confusion deepened the younger man’s frown. “We don’t know her.”
“No,” Jimmy agreed. “We don’t.” Then, because Blue frowned at him, he switched to his halting Cheyenne. “This one is explaining about guests to the one called Shane.” He motioned to the boy on the last word, careful to not point. Some tribes found the act of pointing an insult. Since he couldn’t remember if the Cheyenne were among them, he avoided any issues.
“The boy is right to question.” The quiet acceptance in her statement only reaffirmed his earlier decision. “This one is not known to you.”
“True,” he said, searching for the right words. “This one extended the invitation. The rule of the host fire is one I must observe…so says the man who raised me.”
A sad smile softened the corners of her lips. “Among the People, when one shares a fire, it is customary to give an offering. This one has nothing to offer.”
Oh, she had plenty to offer—conversation, distraction, and definite ease on his eyes after weeks with only Shane for company. However, Jimmy said none of those things. “This one accepts your thanks as an offering enough.”
“What did she say?” Shane asked.
“She agreed to share our fire. She also apologized because she can’t offer anything in return.” Testing the meat, he satisfied himself it was done. He took care to cut the slabs evenly and spread it between the two of them. Though still unhappy, Shane tucked into the food immediately, but Blue raised her brows.
“This one would be a poor guest if the one called Jimmy went hungry to feed me.” Either his ear was getting better or she’d slowed her speech down to accommodate his poorer language skills.
“This one is going to bathe,” he said. “Then this one will go to hunt more. Eat.” Adding another log to the fire, he glanced at Shane. “Behave. I’m going to wash up then get food.”
“So you’re leaving me alone with her?” Surprise filtered through his expression. “I’m not sure who you’re trusting more, me or her.”
“Maybe both.” Understanding swept through Jimmy. In all of his life, he’d never been fond of Quanto’s enigmatic answers, though they beat Wyatt’s terse mysteries. Shane wanted an explanation, but Jimmy didn’t have one. He trusted Blue, at least as much as he trusted anyone. She was alone and needed help. They were there and could help.
Simple.
Shane wasn’t old enough to understand, or maybe he simply didn’t have the experience. Either way, his answer encapsulated his feelings on the subject. If it left Shane to work it out on his own, then it was better. Quanto would laugh at me. His father said he lacked faith, but he believed Shane would come to the solution on his own.
Still shaking his head, he gathered some supplies along with his rifle and left his two charges to the warmth of the fire. “Shane,” he said as he passed into the darkness. “Don’t let anything happen to her.” Then switching to Cheyenne, he murmured. “The one called Shane needs looking after. Don’t let anything happen to him.”
“If you say so,” Shane replied around another bite of food.
Blue hadn’t started on hers yet, but she said. “As the one called Jimmy wishes.”
He went downstream a few yards. He could still see the flickering fire and he brought his guns. Not wasting time, he stripped out of his clothes and threw his whole body into the frigid river. The cold sliced through him and his teeth chattered almost immediately. Scrubbing down as fast as he could, he dunked himself a few times until he couldn’t detect even a hint of sweat or horse. Still shivering, he crawled back out of the river and used a rough cloth to rub himself dry. The clothes he’d pulled out of the pack weren’t much better than the ones he’d worn, but they didn’t smell quite as bad.
More like the lemongrass packed into them. The herb pouch had split open. Checking his companions, he let his gaze sharpen until they both snapped into sharp focus. Shane had finished his food and watched Blue, who ate with a slow deliberateness. Instead of watching him, she studied the night around them. Intrigued, Jimmy dressed slowly so he could observe. Nothing in her manner suggested threat, yet he suspected she knew every movement beyond the fire.
A shaman? Or a warrior? The clothes were warm compared to the water. Once he’d dressed, he stuffed the dirty clothes into the bag. The next time they passed near a town, he’d find a laundress. They could wash the clothes now, but it was too cool to dry effectively and moldy clothing smelled worse than dirt. He checked on them again. Blue offered the rest of her food to Shane.
Jimmy groaned. The kid took her food. He planned to thump him later. She was still hungry…but she’s looking after Shane. Course I told him to look after her, too.
Drawing out a knife, he tested the blade edge. Sharp enough. He sliced off the too long growth of whiskers. Once he’d shorn them close, he mixed up some soap and used it on his face. He could shave in the dark effectively enough. He knew his own face and his aim was damn perfect, even when he couldn’t see the target.
Cody told him it was cheating. Says the man who can turn into a wolf to get out of doing chores requiring hands. Shaving took him longer than he cared to admit, but he wanted the hair gone. Free of it, the air was even colder on his bared face than before, but Jimmy checked his cheeks. Most of the bristle was gone.
After cleaning up, he repacked his bag and slung the satchel over his shoulder. Rifle in hand, he stepped out into the night. Shane hunkered down into his bedroll. Blue added another log to the fire and rose. She walked a slow circuit of their camp then went to each of the horses.
Pausing, Jimmy watched her put her hands on each of the animals. She would rest her palm against a neck or a side, though her lips moved, no amount of straining carried her words to him. Each horse seemed to sigh after she touched them and the horse she’d treated in the water lifted his head at her arrival and whickered softly.
Blinking, he shook his head then brought them back into focus. The horse looked—better seeme
d too inadequate a word. Healthier. Stronger. Different.
Shaman or Fevered or both, Blue possessed a definite talent. Not animal speech like Jo. Not true healing like Noah. But something. Satisfied the two remained safe in each other’s company, Jimmy scanned the night drenched landscape around him. Nothing moved then he saw a flicker of motion a few hundred yards away. Setting off with silent steps, he tracked the motion until he found the deer grazing not far from the water. Old enough, and plenty large… They’d have to linger another day if he took the animal down, but he could pack their bags with plenty of fresh meat.
In the cold, it would keep at least three days. They could regain the time he’d lost fulfilling Quanto’s request. Three certainly ate more than two, and he wanted the hungry look hidden behind her enigmatic eyes to pass. Rifle at his shoulder, Jimmy hesitated. Three did eat more, but would she go with them?
For the first time since he’d encountered her, he considered his mission. He’d lost three days to this quest, but if they rode hard, they could make it up and try to pick up the doppelganger’s trail.
What if Blue didn’t want to go?
Then I’ll have to convince her.
He refused to leave her in the hills alone. And I can’t stay.
Squeezing the trigger, he took the nine-point buck down.
Chapter 8
Onsi, The Dark of the Night in the Hills
Though she’d been awake when Jimmy returned to the camp and helped him hang the deer he’d taken down to drain, they’d said very little. The shocking change in his appearance, however, suited him more than the face full of hair. He ushered her back to the fire and set her up with a bedroll. The blankets smelled of him, though after wearing his jacket for several hours, she’d almost gotten used to the scent.
Settling into the blankets, she let her eyes close to mere slits. The one called Jimmy didn’t sleep. He tended the deer then the fire, and finally took a seat near the flames, his back to a tree and his long rifle within reach. He’d retrieved a second jacket, having left her with the other. Instead of sleeping, he pulled out a slender piece of wood and began to carve on it with a smaller knife.
Across the fire, the younger man slept the sleep of the dead. His gentle snores indicated he’d drifted into a much deeper sleep than resting in the open should allow him. Which is why the one called Jimmy doesn’t sleep.
“This one will take watch if you wish to rest.” Sleep proved too elusive. Besides, she did not have the strength to fend off the dreamwalker this night if he came to her again. Despite her earlier collapse, she did not want to sleep either.
“Rest,” was all he replied, his attention fixed on the slender piece of wood slowly transforming under his skilled touch. “The dawn will come soon.”
In the distance, a night bird called out a lonely forlorn sound. Further away, another bird answered. The fire crackled as the flames licked over the wood. The boy snored. The soft shtick of Jimmy’s knife sliced along the wood. The animals whuffled, occasionally stamping their feet.
Still, she refused to close her eyes.
“What’s wrong, Blue?” Jimmy’s soft question washed over her.
“Sleeping brings dreams,” she answered truthfully.
Pausing, Jimmy raised his head and she could almost feel the weight of his regard. “This one…this one thinks you do not want to dream of your people.”
No. She would willingly dream of her people, not the older people haunting her visions or the old Shaman determined to plague her in her dreams. Since she could not find the words to explain, she only said, “Yes.”
“If this one’s language formed better, this one would tell you a story to help chase away the dreams.” He continued his whittling.
“The one called Jimmy speaks well.” Even if his skill was halting and sometimes it was a struggle to understand him. “This one does not know the white man’s language.”
“Does Blue wish to learn?” A hint of a smile appeared amidst the shadows cast by the fire. “This one is a poor teacher, but this one would be honored to teach you.”
She had no time for new languages. Come the rising of the dawn, she would part from their kind company. Her hunt would begin again. She had miles to cover to pick up the trail of the other men in the hunting party. Still…learning was better than sleeping.
Testing his name she said it slowly. “Jimmy.”
Another quick grin and he held up two fingers. “Two sounds. Jim. Me.”
Sitting, she dragged his blanket around herself and tried it again. “Jim. Me.”
A nod, then he tapped two fingers to his chest. “Man.”
The word sounded odd to her and she shook her head. Did he have two names? Then he added in Cheyenne. “This one is a warrior, a male. In this one’s language it is—man.”
“Man.” Even to hear ears the word echoed with an alien force, but he nodded. Then he motioned to her.
“Wo-man.”
The strange syllables earned a laugh, and he stopped his carving abruptly to stare at her. “This one is female, but also shaman. Not wo-man for man. Shaman for tribe.”
Mixing her languages took effort, and saying woman twice tickled her further. The word even felt strange on her lips. The darkest hours of night passed with Jimmy repeating one word in Cheyenne and another in the white man’s tongue. Tiredness stole through her closer to dawn, but she tended the fire and pushed aside the sleepiness.
“The fire is hot.” The words were strange, but she understood them. More, her teacher grasped them as well. He moved on to another set of phrases and continued his whittling. By the time the first rays of dawn touched the sky, she was almost soothed enough to lay her head down. Then Jimmy held out the piece he’d worked on through the night.
He’d carved an eagle, right down to the fletching patterns on the outstretched wings. The level of intricacy and detail took her breath away. She had no words to describe it.
“Keep it.” Jimmy closed her fingers around the wooden figure. “This one, I will check on the deer. Then we can get it roasted, so we can pack away the food.” The mixture of languages wasn’t lost on her, yet she still managed to understand him. Pushing back the blankets, she rose to follow him, but he stopped her with an upheld hand. “Would you add wood to the fire? We need to build it up.”
“The animal should be thanked.” Though she distanced herself from the spirits, the animal still deserved gratitude for surrendering his life for their sustenance. Hardening her heart to the ancestors didn’t mean dismissing the gifts other lives presented to them.
He hesitated and a muscle ticked in his cheek. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”
The words were not a refusal. After letting the blanket drop to rest on the bedroll, she circled the fire. “To greet the day is to thank the spirits for living.” She hadn’t thanked them once and never intended to do so again. Yet… “But to thank the animal is to thank them for their service, for what they have done for Jimmy, for Shane, and for Onsi.”
“You’re shaming me, Blue.” The long sigh accompanying his statement said more to her than his words.
Insight glimmered within her. The request bothered him on some level, yet he struggled with the answer. “What troubles Jimmy?”
“Come. Thank the animal.” He extended a hand to her. “Not that the animal will care.” The bitterness in his final statement needed no translation.
Studying his expression, she accepted his offered hand. He had large hands, long calloused fingers, and warm skin despite the chill. “This one will do the thanking, if the act displeases you.”
“Gratitude does not displease me.” He sighed again, but closed his grip around hers. With Jimmy leading, they left the fire. The further from the flames they walked, the warmer he grew. The inner alarm increased in tempo and intensity. “My father, the one who raised me, he taught of thanking the land for its gifts and the animals for their sacrifice…”
“A wise man raised Jimmy. Did the one who raised J
immy explain why?” Someone had gifted him with languages not only for her people, but also for many, even the irritating Apache and the wild Comanche.
They’d arrived at the deer, a male, full grown, with a strong set of antlers. He’d seen a few summers and hadn’t lost his rack to battle with another male. Strung by the hindquarters for draining, the blood gathered amongst some rocks and into a half-dug crevice in the earth. He’d added dried moss and mud from the riverside to the pit. The combination absorbed the scent of blood.
His father taught him well.
Jimmy continued to hold her hand as he checked the clean slice he’d made. The deer was a beautiful creature, healthy and hearty. Touching her palm to the center of the animal’s chest over the heart, she closed her eyes. The prayer rose from the deep well within in her soul. “There were two beneath the sky, the thing I came to kill and I. Quietly, I watched him sense eternity, from quivering tail to pointed nose, his gun to shoulder-level rose. And then I felt, though I could not see, far off the animal accepted me. For there were two who had to die, the animal we killed and I. Thank you for the blessing and the bounty you bring, to you shall we make our offering and sing.”
The last images of the animal’s life unfolded before her. Through his eyes, she saw Jimmy line up his shot and sensed the animal’s understanding. The breeze carried a whisper of the words he’d spoken before he pulled the trigger. The quiet certainty and gratitude in his tone, repeated as though by rote, revealed a truth buried within his earlier hesitance. Certainty and gratitude did make for conviction. He gave voice to the words because he’d been taught, not because he believed.
Somewhere along the road of his life, he’d lost the wings of belief. The sudden and immediate kinship sparking within her added another note to the disquiet his company brought to her. Despite the cold, his hand continued to bathe hers in warmth. She could feel the weight of his regard, he watched her so closely. Yet, when she opened her eyes, she could barely make out his features, so indistinct with the shadows of the night.
The Quick and the Fevered Page 11
