Swallowing his shout of release as he came against her, she drifted on eddies of pleasure. Nurturing the closeness, she clung to him long after they stopped moving and floated with him in the hot, steamy water. Only after his rapid heartbeat began to slow and her breathing returned to normal did Jimmy begin to move them toward the edge of the water.
“Thank you,” he said into the quiet.
“You’re welcome.” Amusement curved through her at his gratitude. “Though I think I should thank you.” He’d taken her stiff, sore muscles and melted her with the heat of the water and his touch. Boneless and relaxed, she surged with renewed energy. The caring he showered upon her lit a candle within the dark, lonely confines of her heart. Guilt surfaced at her joy in having found him—joy she’d only discovered courtesy of her people’s blood.
“Hey…” He settled her near the side of the pool, then cupped her chin. “What’s wrong?”
“Finding happiness because of so much sorrow,” she told him truthfully. “I feel as though I fail my people.”
“No.” He traced a finger down her cheekbone then across her lower lip. “Happiness is a rare flower. If you can find it, you should grasp it and cradle it close. Too much sorrow exists in this world.” With a sigh, he rested his forehead to hers. “I was eight years old when the fever came to my town. It was this—small prairie place, I think maybe twenty families? It seemed huge when I was younger.”
“Most places often do when we are small. The world itself grows smaller as we grow taller.” A lesson she understood. Perhaps the People had always been few, yet they seemed so very few to the stories of old. Fewer still with the loss of her tribe.
Cradling her, he shifted their positions and sat on the hard ledge, then drew her onto his lap. The intimacy seemed to draw her closer to him as though his soul wrapped around hers. Unwilling to examine it too close, she focused instead on the glimpses of his expression the moonlight afforded her.
“We came west when I was young. I know the families started somewhere in Tennessee, maybe. My father was a pastor…a man of God.”
She frowned not recognizing the term.
“A shaman for the church. I suppose it a good description of him.”
Those words, she did understand.
“He believed God told him to go west, and to take as many families with him as were willing to make the trek. We set out when I turned four, or thereabouts. I remember the wagon ride, and the way the wheels would jerk and bounce through the tall grass. I remember hunting crickets and frogs near the rivers we would camp at and I remember the first of any of the People I ever saw. He was astride a horse in the distance with this long hair. He looked fierce and my mother cried, but he didn’t come near us.”
Without more information, she couldn’t have said what tribe. A lone warrior on horseback, however, likely meant a scout. If he didn’t see them intruding on their hunting lands or in danger of encountering one of the People’s encampments, he would likely have left Jimmy’s people alone.
“We traveled for weeks. It felt like years, but it probably only took a few months.” The corner of his mouth curved. “It was all an adventure for me, I loved every minute until we found the place my father declared would be our town. We had to bring down trees, and sand wood and build…”
Woodcarving—had his father taught him? Enraptured, she rubbed her hand over his chest, a petting gesture to let him know she still listened.
“The first building we put up was the church. A thin, white building with a bell tower—though we didn’t have a bell. Pa told us we would add the bell last, after every family had their own home.” His voice took on an almost wistful cadence. “I liked building with my pa. Ma had a baby the same year we came to the town, so she was busy with him.”
The last line triggered worry within her and she pressed her hand to his chest over his heart.
“But Pa, he would tell stories while we worked together. He taught me how to line up a corner, and put up a wall that wouldn’t come down. He would talk about God a lot, tell me what God wanted for me and how the work we did would make God happy. It took us two years to get the town exactly as my pa said it should be, and every Sunday, we stopped work and we’d spend time together in the church. We lost a few people and whenever one passed away, Pa and I would take care of the body and we’d bury them. Then Pa would say a service because it was what God wanted, for us to remember him and the departed and to know the person who fell went to a better place. We had a good life, an easy one. My schooling happened at Pa’s knee or with my ma checking my letters. My little brother learned to walk in the town. Three winters we lived that way, and then one spring morning Ma was sick and so my brother. Pa and I took turns looking after them, but lots of other people got sick. Some died, and so Pa and I buried them.”
The words faded and Jimmy frowned. Wherever his gaze went, it wasn’t to her. She could almost see the prairie town in his description.
“More people sickened, and we didn’t have a proper doctor, just a midwife and a couple who knew some medicine. They died in the first couple of days. My ma went a day or two later, and my little brother…Pa and I tried to bury folks, but soon we had more bodies than energy, and I got sick. So did Pa.”
Heartbreaking, but she stayed steady. He needed to tell his story, so she would listen to every syllable, even the words she didn’t quite understand.
“A funny thing happened. I got better. No one else did. I woke up one morning and the fever was gone. I was really weak, but I didn’t feel as awful as I had. The first thing I did was get some water, the second was look for my pa.”
Onsi closed her eyes. His arms tightened around her. She didn’t need to hear the rest to know what happened next.
“He died. Everyone died. I didn’t understand it, not really. We’d buried my ma and my brother, so I tried to take my pa to where we’d buried them. Took me all day, and I kept having to stop, but I got him buried. Then I went home and slept. The next day, I went looking and started to bury everyone I could find. People die, they need to be buried. That’s what God wants, and I know Pa toward the end said this was God’s will if we survived or not. Somehow, we’d failed God, this little town of twenty families.” His calm veneer cracked, then he blew out a breath. “I always kind of thought God failed me. I was still trying to bury people when my father found me.”
His father, the dreamwalker.
“I still remember seeing him ride into the town. He reminded me of the man of the People I’d seen on the hill when we’d gone west. Long-haired, he wore buckskins. He even had a feather attached to one of his braids.” Jimmy smiled, a quick flash of light in the darkness. “I wouldn’t go until I’d buried the bodies, so he helped me. Then he gave me a place to ride behind him. We burned the town—all those pretty buildings I’d helped make, and he took me home with him.”
When he finally went silent, she rested her head to his shoulder. “This one has known much pain.”
“I’m grateful for my family, Blue. For Cody, Buck, Ike, Noah, Rudy, Wyatt, and Scarlett. They’re my brothers and my sister. I have more family in their wives and her husband and her husband’s brothers. They make me happy, and I am damn glad for all of them.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead. “I wouldn’t have any of them if not for the Fever killing everyone I know. Being happy is a gift, and it pleases me to know I make you happy, but it’s not wrong to be happy when others have died or because something tragic happened.”
Understanding flooded her, and she lifted her head. Facing him, she raised her brows. “Thank you for sharing your story with me.” Recognizing the truth of his confession as the gift it was, she needed him to know she not only understood, but also appreciated the words.
“Glad to help.” His grin tilted and he brushed another kiss to her lips. “I’m grateful for you, too, Blue. But I should get you out of this water before we wrinkle and our skin falls off.” He eased her from his lap and kept her steady until she found her feet. When he str
ode from the water, Onsi watched the way the light from the moon and the fire danced over his muscled form. Beautifully masculine and strong, but also kind—he was a good man. He added more wood to the fire, then gathered a blanket from the few he’d set to air out. Striding through the cold back to the spring, he moved with a quiet, almost predatory grace.
He didn’t pretend to be anything other than himself, a man with a powerful soul and a determined spirit. Holding the blanket open for her, he wrapped it around her after she exited the pool before the chill could make her shiver. Pulling her close, he folded his arms over hers in the blanket. “Thank you for coming back today,” he said against her ear.
The soft reminder prompted her. “Are you ready to hear about the man you hunt?”
“No,” he said, though some humor eased the dark note in his voice. “Let’s get you warm and settled by the fire, then eat. Afterward, you can tell me.”
The specific instructions gave her pause. “This one does know how to do more than one thing at a time.” She could easily eat and fill him in.
Jimmy shifted the bedroll closer to the fire, and held up a blanket while she slipped on her dress. The doeskin stiffened in a couple of places, but helped warm her. Pulling her damp hair over her shoulder, she retrieved the comb he’d made for her. Once she settled on the pallet before the fire, he dragged on his clothes with a grimace.
“Blue, I need to know you’re all right. You did something amazing today. My brother needs to eat a lot to keep his strength when he shifts. Using power has a cost and, not only did you use power, but you flew for hours. I can only imagine it as running the whole time. You were so tired when you returned. Would you let me take care of you?”
Hard to argue with compassion and concern, and his request mollified her temper. Easing the comb through her hair, she considered him. His offer was not the first time he’d taken care of her, nor she suspected would it be the last. Some warriors needed to care for others, to bring food, or to see the fire set. It mattered not to them if she were capable of these things on her own, only that they could ease her burden somehow.
Who took care of Jimmy? He protected and cared for her and his apprentice, but who looked after him?
“I would be honored to grant your request if you would grant me but one in return.”
“Anything.” The swiftness of his agreement made her smile.
“This one will keep watch tonight while you rest.” Because he had not slept, not truly, since she’d met him. What little she’d managed was far more than he.
Jimmy frowned. “I can see further…”
“Yes, but the body needs rest. As you said, using a gift requires energy and the body must replenish the energy. If you will sleep, I will let you do these things for me.”
A struggle played out in the shadows on his face. He took a seat next to her and served out some of the stew into two of the bowls. When he offered one to her, she glanced from the bowl to him and waited.
“You drive a hard bargain, Blue.” Disgruntled, he still smiled.
“When you agree, I will take your food.”
Stretching, Jimmy sighed. “Very well, I will sleep until the moon begins to set.”
Glancing to the sky, she judged the angle of the moon. It would only be a short time, but the agreement was enough. Accepting the bowl, she pressed to two fingers to his lips. “This one thanks you for the care…and the trust.”
“You’re welcome. Remind me not to make more deals with you.”
She chuckled. The bland stew filled her stomach. The rich flavors of deer and vegetables were too-watered down to have much taste. She ate a full bowl and Jimmy finished two. When they completed the meal, she returned to combing her hair while Jimmy added more wood to the fire. He’d built it up some, the warmth buffering them from two sides kept the cold night completely at bay.
When no tasks remained, he settled into the bedroll and laid his head on her lap. “Tell me about him.”
Him—the man he hunted. He’d avoided discussing him until the moment he needed to sleep.. If she answered him, he would have to stay awake for the story which delayed his sleep further. “When the moon sets.”
His brow furrowed and he sat. “Blue…”
“You can do nothing about him this night, and I know where he made his camp. You are less than two-day’s journey behind him. His horse is injured, as is he, if he is the one I believe him to be. He moves slowly. Now sleep.”
Glancing over the area, he rose and did another sweep. She let him content himself with their security before he took to the bedroll again. Her hair was nearly tangle-free but remained wet from the water. The fire would help dry it, but it would take time.
Patting the bedroll next to him, he held out his hand.
“My hair will make the blankets wet.”
“I don’t care. I want you near me.” Hard to say no to his request. She set the comb aside and shifted until she could lie next to him. Jimmy wrapped an arm around her waist and closed his eyes. “When the moon sets, Blue, promise me.”
“When it sets, I will wake you.” She rubbed her hand along his arm, smoothing over the skin. On the third such pet, his breathing evened out and he gave in to the sleep he needed. On the opposite side of the fire, Shane slept deeply. He never even twitched when they left the water.
Staring at the flames, she kept her senses attuned to the world around her—the sound of Jimmy’s breathing, the steady beat of his heart, Shane’s snores, and the horses’ soft whuffles as they shifted in sleep. She may not have Jimmy’s sight in the dark, but she could extend her awareness.
Inside, she nudged open the connection to the spirits. The eagle sat on a rock near the fire, his white and silver expression fierce in the half-light. Nearby a cat spirit prowled and, farther out, she thought she heard the rumble of a bear. The spirits remained with her and gratitude sifted through the complicated emotions clouding her mind.
“This one would ask for you to watch over those who sleep. Will you protect them?”
None responded immediately, then the eagle turned his head. The weight of his regard bore down on her. Who asks this question?
A fair request. The medicine woman Onsi turned her back on the spirits after the slaughter of her people. She’d cut ties, and though they remained with her, she could no longer be the woman of the People who called upon them from sacred ground. She became someone else, something else… “The one called Blue asks for your assistance Great Eagle. Will you share your blessing with me? Help me to protect these men?”
Benevolence washed over her. I am honored to assist you, little sister, Blue.
An ancient drumbeat resonated within her, one dating back to her first naming, and she understood the choice she’d made. Jimmy’s arm tightened around her and Blue smiled. Sometimes the spirits gave names and she’d been named by a Fevered, a man infused by spirit. It was a good name. Onsi passed with her people.
Blue remained.
Chapter 14
Jimmy
The weight of a hand on his shoulder, a light squeeze, roused him from a hard sleep. Never one for deep rest when on the trail, he was awake and aware within seconds. Blue sat next to him on the bedroll, and her hand on him stirred him from his slumber. “Stay your hand,” she warned him. They were not alone. The soft shush of movement brushed his ears. At some point, she’d banked the fire and, though it continued to glow and burn, the flames had diminished.
“How many?” He kept his voice low as he scanned the area. Whatever moved in the darkness used the landscape to their advantage.
“Unshod horses,” she told him.
Understanding kicked him. Pushing back the blanket, he slipped an arm around her waist, lifted her, and set her behind him in one smooth motion. Reclaiming one of his Colts, he studied the area. “How long?”
“They have circled the camp once.” Good girl, she’d woken him as soon as she became aware. “If they meant harm, they would have struck.”
He didn
’t disagree. Most hunting parties would have struck the moment they discovered them, not allowing them an opportunity for defense. Their lack of attack, however, did not make them allies.
Wanting to get a look at them, he rose and circled the fire. After nudging Shane with his boot, he crouched and held a finger to his lips. Sleep fled the younger man’s gaze and he nodded once. Motioning a circle around them so Shane would understand, Jimmy stood, then returned to Blue. Colt in one hand, he retrieved his rifle and waited.
The low fire would give both Shane and Blue a better chance of seeing, but Jimmy simply waited. Since he knew what to listen for, he heard the soft clod of unshod hooves striking the earth. The faintest of cadence and lacking the harder strike of iron shoes. As though they’d waited for him to be ready, a party of five seemed to melt out of the darkness. All dressed in buckskin, they formed a semi-circle at the edge of the camp.
Blue rose, but she didn’t try to circle around him. His smart girl took her place at his back. He wanted her absolutely out of the line of fire. The itching between his shoulder blades increased, and the quiet beast inside of him surged upward. The guns were hot in his hands, but he kept them lowered—for the moment.
Wood crackled in the fire, but silence reigned with their uninvited guests. The man in the center nudged his horse forward, his eyes narrowed not on Jimmy, but on Blue. He raised one hand and the others backed away two paces. Shane slanted a sideways look at him, but Jimmy shook his head. They would wait for the others to make the first move. Hostility didn’t mark their current manner. If anything, they appeared hesitant and guarded.
The leader slid from his horse and took two steps forward, his attention still on Blue. After his third step, Jimmy raised the gun and pointed at him. “That’s far enough.” Time to test whether they understood his language or if he needed to sort out theirs. None wore any paint or markings. The deep bronze of their coloring and the midnight black of their hair was like enough to Blue’s to be related, but said nothing of their tribal leanings. Definitely hunters of some type, they wore buckskin on their legs and, in deference to the drop in temperatures, light buckskin shirts. Moccasins on their feet were well-worn, but they had no sign of jewelry, feathers or other distinctive signs.
The Quick and the Fevered Page 21
