With undisguised curiosity, Ardith stared up at the first true-western Indian she'd ever seen. He stood tall, well over six feet, and was muscular in that lean, graceful way horsemen often were. His face was dark-skinned and broad. He had high, molded cheekbones, dark eyes, and lines that bracketed the corners of his mouth, hinting that there was a sense of humor lurking in him somewhere. Her gaze shifted to the feathers in his hatband, to the primitive amulet bound tight at his throat, and then to the long-bladed knife tucked in a beaded sheath he wore at his waist.
That must be his scalping knife! she thought and shifted a step away.
As she did, Ardith glimpsed Jalbert's expression—experience and insight mingled with amusement. Hunter Jalbert knew exactly what she'd been thinking and was laughing at her! Ardith felt herself color up.
"How do you do?" she said, extending her hand and speaking in her most decorous tones.
Hunter Jalbert curled his broad palm around her fingers and answered in kind. "I'm so very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Merritt."
And then he grinned.
The heat in Ardith's cheeks intensified.
"Please allow me to introduce my children," Jalbert went on, putting her at ease. "This is Meggie," he indicated a golden-haired girl in her late teens. "And Andrew." Though he was darker than his sister, he was clearly not this man's son.
"This is Ben—" who seemed about ten and was the image of his father. "And our twins, Jess and William."
The twins were dark like Jalbert, but with eyes of a cool gray-green color, like the winter sea.
"This is my niece, China," Ardith responded, "and my nephew Khyber."
"They're both named for places so far away," Jalbert observed.
Ardith was a little startled that an Indian here in the wilds of Wyoming should be acquainted with world geography.
"Their father travels extensively," Ardith felt compelled to explain. It's where he was when each of the children were born.
"Have you thanked Miss Merritt for granting us permission to spend a few nights on her land?"
Ardith turned to acknowledge the woman just emerging from the tepee and caught her breath. Khy had said the woman was wearing "war paint," but his description hadn't come close to preparing Ardith for Jalbert's wife.
The woman, with her ice-green eyes and gold-streaked hair, bore an intricate tattoo high on her left cheek. Dark blue lines radiated from the circle to form a starburst design that nestled in the hollow below the bone. Yet what should have been a travesty on a woman as lovely as she enhanced her somehow, making her more compelling and exotic.
In an instant Ardith was fascinated not only by the tattoo, but by the woman herself. She needed to know how this woman had come to be marked, and where in a world bound by prejudice she'd found a place that accepted her beauty, her uniqueness.
"This is my wife, Cassandra," Hunter Jalbert said simply. "Cass, this is Ardith Merritt, and her charges, China and Khyber."
Cass Jalbert's chin came up, acknowledging them, daring them to react to the tattoo.
Ardith inclined her head and relied on the children's good manners to avoid embarrassment. "We are pleased to have all of you here with us, Mrs. Jalbert. I know Khy will enjoy having other boys to play with."
"I thank you for your welcome, Miss Merritt," Cassandra acknowledged. "I am looking forward to visiting some myself, especially since Myra has always been so good to us."
"I've never done anything much," Myra put in.
"Is there anything you need while you are here?" Ardith asked them.
"I thank you for your concern, but we're pretty well provisioned, at least as long as you don't mind my husband doing a bit of hunting."
"My brother-in-law likes hunting, too, though he is often too busy with the cattle these days to bring in much game."
"Then perhaps I can earn our keep while we are here," Jalbert offered.
"I could make wonderful things with a few elk steaks," Myra encouraged him.
"I'll see what I can do," he promised and headed toward the far corral, where a score of fine-looking horses were kicking up their heels. The Jalbert boys trailed after him, with Khy bobbing in their wake.
"Khy!" Ardith called out. "Khyber, I don't think—"
"Oh, let him go," Cass Jalbert told her. "Hunter likes children, and Andrew is used to looking after the younger boys."
"Khy can be quite a handful," Ardith warned her.
"No more than the twins, I assure you," Mrs. Jalbert said with a laugh. "I have just brewed up spicewood tea for Meggie and me. Would you all like to join us?"
Ardith immediately accepted. She had read about Indian tepees in her ten-penny dreadfuls, but had never expected to see one close up. She followed Myra through the deerskin door, noticing immediately that the interior of the conical structure was warm and dim. A small fire lay in a ring of stones at the center, and wisps of smoke trailed upward to escape through the gap where the poles came together at the top.
As Ardith took a seat on one of the low, blanket-padded cots, she was amazed by how colorful the lodge was inside. Tied to the poles on the lower half of the tent was a yard-deep inner flap painted and embroidered with intricate designs. Brightly decorated boxes made of leather were piled between the beds and must have held clothes and household articles.
Cass opened one of them and retrieved five tin mugs. She dipped tea from a pan steaming at the edge of the fire and served each of her guests.
Ardith tasted the brew and found it almost gingery.
"What is it that brings you here?" she asked after she had complimented her hostess on the tea.
"Selling horses," Mrs. Jalbert explained.
"Hunter's the best horse breeder and trainer north of the Platte," Myra put in.
"We fulfilled our contract with Fort McKinney yesterday," Cass went on. "We'll sell the rest of these horses to a man who hopes to start a stagecoach company north from Cheyenne."
Ardith nodded and sipped again. "How long do you expect to be staying with us?"
"No more than a few days. We appreciate Mr. Northcross allowing us to pasture our horses on our way south."
It might have been nicer if Baird had thought to mention giving the Jalberts permission to camp here, Ardith thought, though she was more than pleased with her new acquaintances. In truth, she could barely take her eyes off Cassandra Jalbert's face, the way the light played over her features, the strength of her brow and jaw, the contrast of vulnerability and sensuality in her well-shaped mouth. And of course there was the tattoo, enhancing her natural beauty, turning it pagan and romantic. More than anything, Ardith wanted to paint her.
"I was wondering, Mrs. Jalbert, if I might ask you a very impertinent question," Ardith began.
For an instant Cass Jalbert's expression froze, as if she were steeling herself for impending unpleasantness. "What is it?" she asked warily.
The other woman's discomfort made Ardith sorry she'd begun, yet she could hardly back away from the request she'd meant to make. "Please, Mrs. Jalbert, I have a certain skill as an artist, and I was hoping that while you are here, you would allow me to paint your portrait."
Cass started at the request, and then her pale eyes narrowed as if she were seeking the motives beyond the words. "Why would you want to do that?"
Ardith hesitated, realizing her answer could affect far more than whether Cass Jalbert agreed to sit for her. It would speak to the vulnerable core of this woman, speak to the dichotomy of what her life in the world outside her home and family must be like.
Ardith moistened her lips, suddenly needing to put into words a few half thought-out notions about the West and some of the observations Baird had made about her paintings.
"I think it takes a particular kind of woman to live out here," Ardith began carefully, "to love a Western man, to live with him and make a home. I think that uniqueness is evident in the independence with which Western women act, the way they carry themselves—and I think it is evident in
their faces. I think women like you and Myra embody a kind of courage and strength of character that says something important about this frontier, about living in this time and place."
They were concepts she'd been rolling around in her head since that night on the porch, a string of observations that had suddenly been given a cohesive form. "I think it's something I could capture with brushes and paint, Mrs. Jalbert, and I would be honored if you'd agree to sit for me."
Ardith waited in silence for Cassandra's reply, and the woman eyed her consideringly. "So you paint?"
"Since I was a child."
"And are you any good at it?"
"She made a portrait of me," Myra spoke up, "and did a damn-fine job of it. There's an art dealer back in Boston who wants her work for his gallery, too."
Ardith flashed Myra a grateful smile. The older woman had expressed no real opinion about the small oil portrait when it was done, and she was glad to know Myra was pleased with how Ardith had depicted her.
"Could you teach someone to draw and paint if she was interested?"
"I've never taken students." Ardith looked at her in surprise. "Do you want to learn to paint?"
"Would you be able to judge another artist's work if you saw it? Could you tell if that person was good enough to warrant further study?"
"I could try," she answered cautiously.
Cassandra Jalbert nodded to where China and her daughter Meggie were seated side by side on one of the beds. "Show Miss Merritt your paintings, Meggie," she directed.
Meggie stared at her mother in horror and shook her head.
"Show her," Cass persisted.
Meggie shot her mother an imploring glance.
Ardith knew what the girl was feeling. Showing your work to a stranger was one of the worst moments in any artist's life. Ardith remembered the hot panic creeping up her throat as she'd watched Gavin leaf through her sketches that first time. She remembered how she had yearned for praise and expected derision.
"Why don't you let me see your sketches?" she coaxed gently.
Meggie stared, taking her measure, then turned and slid a dozen drawings and paintings from one of the leather folders.
Ardith went through them slowly, one by one. There were portraits of her family, several rugged landscapes, studies of individual plants and of the horses. The girl drew well, with a good eye for both detail and composition. Without instruction, she had mastered basic techniques and begun to improve on them. She used color with rare skill, and her work showed a sensitivity that went well beyond her years.
Ardith looked up at Meggie. The girl's hands were knotted demurely in her lap, though her eyes were alive with turmoil.
Ardith reached across and took her hand. "These are wonderful, Meggie! You have a great deal of natural talent. How did you learn to draw and paint so well?"
The girl flushed, and lowered her lashes. "I practiced until I got things right."
"She takes after her father, my first husband," Cass Jalbert put in. "He began drawing when he was in officer training at West Point. After he came west he painted—"
Cassandra abruptly looked away, and Meggie, who must know what she was remembering, reached across and caught her mother's hand.
Ardith sensed the grief in both of them, things that were buried deep, regrets that had yet to be resolved. "Well, wherever she gets it from," she said, "Meggie has a wonderful gift."
Still holding her daughter's hand, Cass Jalbert raised her gaze to Ardith's. "While we are here, could you give her a few lessons, show her ways to make her drawing and painting better?"
Ardith considered how she could help Meggie improve her work.
"If you agree to teach her," Cassandra Jalbert went on, ready to bargain for what she wanted, "I'll let you paint my portrait."
* * *
There were all manner of strange people gathered on the back porch of the ranch house. As Baird approached, he could see Durban scowling across a chess board at a boy a few years older than he, and China giggling as she and a lovely, fair-haired girl struggled to roll a knotted skein of yarn. Ardith was seated on the steps, turning the crank on some sort of barrel apparatus, as Myra and another woman offered suggestions and encouragement.
Khy noticed his arrival first, rounding the corner of the house with what appeared to be three Indian children on his heels.
"Papa! You're home!" Khy shouted and barreled into Baird with enough force to rock him on his feet. "Aunt Ardith said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow or the next day."
"I got lonely," Baird admitted and stroked his son's wind-ruffled hair. "And who are these young gentlemen?"
"This is Ben, Jess, and William Jalbert. Or maybe it's William and Jess—I can't ever tell. They're camped in a tepee down by the creek."
Jalbert—the name jogged Baird's memory. Buck had asked if a horse trader he knew could stay a few nights on his way to Cheyenne. Baird had expected a single Frenchman and three or four horses, not a mixed-blood family and the good-sized herd he'd seen as he rode in. Still, as he approached the house, it was clear that the two families were getting on.
"What's all this?" he asked as he came nearer.
Ardith looked up and gave him a smile so broad and welcoming that it made him go warm all over.
"Oh, Baird, you're just in time! Myra's roasting a haunch of venison over the fire, and we're making ice cream."
"Is that what that contraption's for, making ice cream?" Baird liked ice cream, but never once in his life had he considered where it came from. "What flavor is it?"
"Vanilla," answered the woman squatting to Ardith's left.
As she turned to speak, he saw that a tattoo spread across her cheek like a ruinous stain. He immediately averted his gaze, shocked that any woman should be so horribly disfigured.
"Let me introduce you to everyone," Ardith said, pressing ahead. "This is Cass Jalbert. Her husband, Hunter, is a friend of Buck's. They've stopped with a band of their horses on the way to Cheyenne."
Baird turned to the woman again, and could see by the wariness in her eyes that she had recognized his reaction. A flush of shame creep up his jaw.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Jalbert," he answered formally. "I hope you're enjoying your stay with us."
She regarded him for one long moment, then inclined her head. "I'm very pleased by my stay at the Sugar Creek, Mr. Northcross, so far."
"I see you met Ben and the twins," Ardith continued, struggling to crank the ice cream maker as she talked. "That's Meggie all tangled up with China in the yarn, and Andrew playing chess with Durban."
The children looked up and greeted him. They were a well-mannered and attractive lot, including the three younger boys, who were out in the yard teaching Khy to turn cartwheels.
"They've agreed to stay on a few extra days," Ardith informed him above the din of the younger children's laughter. "I'm going to paint Cassie's portrait."
"Perhaps," the woman countered—not as if she meant to refuse, but as if they enjoyed bickering over the matter.
"Sitting for the sketches wasn't so bad, now was it?"
Cass Jalbert lifted one delicate eyebrow in answer, and Ardith laughed. Something about the way everyone was getting on made Baird feel as if he was intruding.
Just then Myra pushed away from the railing, where she'd been supervising the ice cream making. "I guess I'd better go see how the rest of supper's coming. I expect we'll be eating in about an hour."
Ardith turned to Baird again. "I'm so glad you made it back in time for dinner."
Feeling a bit more a part of the group, Baird slung his saddlebags over the porch railing and squatted down beside her. "If you tell me what to do, I'll be happy to help with that."
"It's easy enough," Ardith answered, relinquishing the crank and helping Baird settle the ice cream maker between his knees. "You need to keep the metal cylinder rotating while I put ice and salt down inside the barrel."
As she spoke, she sprinkled a handful of rock salt ov
er the ice that had melted halfway down and added more from a second barrel that had been insulated with straw.
"Where did you get the ice?" Baird asked her, straining a little as he worked. It was a good deal harder to turn the crank on the ice cream maker than he'd expected.
"Cullen McKay brought it over from the Double T," she told him. "One of their guests had something shipped in on ice from California."
"So they're having more of their investors visit, are they?"
Ardith lowered her voice. "Durban tells me he's seen Cullen showing a couple of them the Sugar Creek facilities, though McKay has had the decency to keep his distance from the house."
"He's hardly made a secret of the fact that the men backing him are looking to buy the Sugar Creek, and I don't see how I'm going to sell enough cattle this fall to keep the place viable."
"You haven't had more cattle disappear, have you?"
He shook his head.
"You're doing the best you can," she went on fiercely, inching nearer so the others wouldn't hear. "No one can expect more of you than that!"
He looked into her face, a mere hand-span from his own, and was struck by the conviction in her eyes. It made him feel irrationally better. Up this close, he could see how translucent her skin was, as delicate as porcelain, the color of cream. That her lashes were bristly and dark. That her irises seemed clear gray-green all the way to the bottom.
Whether the desire that came over him was based on those discoveries or on his appreciation of the faith she had in him, Baird could not say. All he knew was that crouched there beside her, he had an almost overwhelming impulse to curl his palms around the breadth of Ardith's jaw, draw her to him, and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.
But that was hardly something he could do with so many people looking on, and he focused his attention on the ice cream maker instead.
Ardith, who seemed as distracted as he was, put another handful of ice into the bucket and added salt.
"I suppose if Durban knows McKay has been showing his investors around the Sugar Creek," Baird observed, "he and Cullen have been spending time together."
Color of the Wind Page 25
