by J. R. WRIGHT
“I don’t know, James. I’ve got two wives in my head as it is. Sarah hasn’t been dead that long, and Breanne is very much in there somewhere too.”
“Those are just ghosts, Tom.”
“I don’t know that Breanne is dead,” Luke argued.
“She may as well be. I doubt you’ll ever see her again.”
“Maybe so, but I can hope, can’t I?”
“Hope is a lonely word, my friend.” Bordeaux studied him. “Nobody ever lived on it for long. You’re still fairly young, Tom. However, not so young that you shouldn’t be living every day as if it was your last.”
“I don’t know, James…”
“I’ll tell you what, Tom, why don’t you stay over for a few days and think about it. Hell, she has that little cabin out back all to herself. Sleep with her and see what you think.”
“What would Cola say?”
“She’s all for it,” Bordeaux said. “Hell, I may as well tell you. Sleeping with her was Cola’s idea. She’s even discussed it with White Bird. She’s game, Tom.” He laughed.
“I would never have thought that,” Luke said. “Now I’m starting to feel pressured.”
“Well, they don’t think like us, Tom. Happiness and daily pleasure is about all they live for. And they take full advantage.”
“After all that, I could use a drink!”
“Come on in, the bar is now open,” Bordeaux said merrily and led the way into the store. “It’s just as well you take your time; White Bird is back there taking a bath anyway.”
“She’s that certain I’ll accept the offer?”
“A bath is a bath.” Bordeaux laughed. “Either way she’ll be just as clean. And she is clean, Tom. The Omaha are that way. That’s why I went to them for a wife after my first one died on me. But at the time, I never expected to ride away with one as beautiful as Cola. White Bird was just a baby back then.”
“I take it, then, Cola didn’t know her well before bringing her here.”
“She watched her grow up. We made regular visits once or twice a year until those Indian wars kept us away.”
“Maybe I ought to have a bath,” Luke said, trying to think when he’d last had one. Sarah had always seen to it he had one every few days. But now that she was gone, his frequency was up to a week or even two at times.
“Go ahead. I’m sure she’ll share her water with you. Maybe you ought to get White Bird to trim up that beard while you’re at it. It’s gotten a little shaggy.”
“Right now I just want a glass of that whisky,” Luke reached the bar and bellied up to it.
Bordeaux wasted no time in gathering a bottle and pouring him one. He then poured a glass for himself and promptly hoisted it. “To a long happy life, my friend,” he said, then went on to say something similar in French: “Vivez votre vie et soyez heureux,”
“Likewise,” Luke said, having understood the French version as well. Pierre had said it often: “Live life and be happy.” He then slugged down the entire glass and pushed it over for another.
“My, you were in need!” Bordeaux said and refilled the glass.
Luke dumped that one down as well, then slammed the glass to the bar. “I can’t let myself do this thing, James. Hell, that little gal can’t be out of her twenties.”
“Twenty-six or seven, I suppose.”
“Tell Cola I’m sorry!” Luke pushed away from the bar, left through the side door to where the stable was located, saddled the red stallion, and rode away. He was happy with the voices in his head Bordeaux had passed off as ghosts. What would he ever do without them? There just wasn’t room in him for another woman. Not even one as beautiful as White Bird. And unless one or the other, or both, the women there presently departed, he may never have room again, he feared. The burden would just be too great. Already it tugged at his soul, just from the thought of White Bird bringing him into her bed, if only for a night or two, as he originally thought would happen. But that was then; now it seemed James and Cola had the two of them married already. Preposterous! Run, his instincts told him! And running he was, just as fast, in the moonlit night, as the mighty red horse could take him.
But that lasted for only a mile or so. It was then the exhausted horse slowed to a walk, and Sarah’s voice suddenly came to him. It was just as loud and clear as if she were only inches away.
“Now you listen to me, Luke McKinney! You’re not going to pass up this opportunity! White Bird is a fine woman, and you need her just as much as she needs you. When I was alone and scared in the wilderness, God sent you to me. And I will be eternally grateful for having you. But my time has passed. I’m gone, Luke. Now, here is another woman lost. Take her, as you did me, and be happy again. Live on and don’t look back – ever again. Goodbye, Luke.”
Luke looked off into the night wondering what had just happened. Would he not hear from Sarah ever again? Now he was confused. He reined up and stepped to the snowy ground. Once there he began to pace. At first in circles, to the amusement of the horse, which watched his every move. And then back and forth, equally amusing. Finally, after near an hour of this, he remounted the stallion and turned back for Laramie.
While unsaddling the horse back in Bordeaux’s stable, his eye caught some movement out in the moonlight. It was White Bird, raven hair freshly braided, clothed in a white cotton nightdress, patiently waiting for him. And when he eventually reached her with his bedroll and saddlebags over an arm, she put out a hand, led him to the little cabin close by, drew him inside, and gently closed the door. There was fire in the fireplace, and before it was a copper bathtub, steaming from freshly poured hot water. Without hesitation she removed his hat and heavy coat, then began unlacing his buckskins. Her big brown eyes never left his as her nimble fingers worked. The shallow dimples of her cheeks showed prominently in the faint light. The light also outlined her slender body beneath the gown, and he reached to caress her firm buttocks. She did not shy away from his touch, but rather moved into him as she lifted the buckskin shirt gently over his head.
The embarrassing part for Luke was when she dropped to undo his trousers and found them difficult to remove, even though completely unlaced. Giving her a hand, he quickly kicked free of them, stripped off the red flannels, and headed for the tub. White Bird, however, had a different notion about that and guided him instead toward the bed.
Even though she was a shy woman around others, there was certainly nothing modest about the way she performed in bed. For a time Luke wondered who was doing what to whom. He had started out gently on top, but with all of the thrusting that occurred later, on both their parts, he soon found himself on the bottom with her in the driver’s seat. That is, until she pulled some quick maneuver that put her beneath him again.
That’s when he heard her laugh for the first time ever. Actually, it was more of a giggle, like that of a very happy young girl, and she did so until she playfully had him out of the bed and into the tub. Then, after adding another dipper of hot water from the pot over the fire, she began scrubbing him like one would a child, gently but thoroughly.
When White Bird was satisfied he was clean, she added some cold water to the pot over the fire and poured dippers of it over him as he stood to rinse away the soap. She giggled while doing this as well. Then, as he stood by the fire toweling off, she made a quick trip into the tub herself for a quick lathering of her female part before joining him there to dry.
Through all of this, not a word had been spoken, of either Omaha or English. To break the silence, Luke said,“Zitkala Skah?” He then looked down on her near perfect body and waited for a reply.
“Cola call me White Bird, la mita Waniyetu Zitkala.” Her brown eyes slowly came up to meet his.
“Then your real name is really Winter Bird, in English?”
“Ha.” (Yes.)
“Then what would you like me to call you?”
“Honey!” she was quick to say and laughed heartily. It was a deep throated, woman’s laugh this time.
&nb
sp; Even Luke thought this was funny and laughed along with her. “Seriously?”
“Only Tom Hill call White Bird that.”
“I would be honored.”
“What is honored?” she asked. Could it be associated with marriage? She hoped. Already she loved this man, she thought.
“I feel special that I am the only one…”
Suddenly feeling the urge, White Bird planted a clumsy kiss on his lips. Luke was shocked. It was something he hadn’t expected. In fact, he didn’t even know Indians did that.
Seeing his expression, White Bird said. “Cola say I should do that. You would expect it.”
“Oh, yeah? What else did Cola tell you to do?”
“Take to bed. Tom Hill lose wife, not have woman for long time,” she casually came out with it. “Want again?” She took him by the hand.
“No!” Luke said, angry with Cola now. “So you did that just because Cola told you to?”
“Cola not make. White Bird have mind of own. Do that for White Bird. Very much want to feel Tom Hill inside.” She smiled sensuously.
“How did we do?”
“You do like stallion with mare in heat. Very good pleasing White Moon. Want more?” she asked, again without shame.
“Later, if you want. Right now it’s time I got some sleep, okay?” He went to the bed and climbed under the blankets this time.
“Okay.” White Bird put on her nightdress, then came to the bed with an oil lamp, a pair of scissors, and a comb. “I will cut the hair on your face now. Cola say for me to do this.”
“Oh, she did, did she? Will you be careful?” Luke moved the feather pillow under his neck to elevate his chin and make it easier for her to get to the entire beard.
“Be very careful. Already practice on Bordeaux. Cola help me.” Gently she began combing the shaggy beard and brought up the scissors to begin, her beautiful big brown eyes fully focused on her work.
“Oh, good! I was wondering where you learned.” Luke relaxed somewhat and allowed her to continue. There wasn’t much chin hair in an Indian village to practice on, he knew. Whatever showed up was plucked out, rather than cut or shaved, anyway.
Luke noticed that she was being very careful not to clip away too much at a time, and soon he fell fast asleep. Sometime later he awoke to find her asleep nestled close beside him, her head on his shoulder. Sleeping, she was even more serene than awake, he noticed by the oil lamp that still glowed by the bed. What was this person, this lovely person, twenty years his junior, doing in his bed? There must be a God, he thought, and fell contentedly back to sleep.
At daybreak he awoke again to something quite different than before. Somehow White Bird had managed not only to arouse him, but to be astraddle him, very gently pleasuring them both, without him knowing until now that she was there.
“Did White Bird wake you, Tom? Sorry,” she said softly, but didn’t stop in the gentle movements she was making. She then leaned in and began practicing her kissing, to boot.
“Don’t stop… Don’t ever stop,” he whispered.
Sometime later, when both were contently satisfied, Luke arose from the bed to dress and just happened to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. At first it frightened him. He thought James Bordeaux had somehow entered the room. Upon closer look, however, he realized White Bird had given him the very same trim beard cut that Bordeaux wore. There were some shaved areas under the chin and higher on the face – how had she done that? It was then he saw Bordeaux’s shaving mug and razor on the table. She must have gone for it in the night. Glancing back to the mirror, he decided it was very presentable, and perhaps even made him look younger. But would it serve to hide his true identity, the reason for the full beard from the beginning? He hoped so. He did like the look, though. And may even keep it, if White Bird was willing to see that it remained that way.
He guessed, after analyzing the last thought, that he had already made up his mind as far as White Bird was concerned. He then turned to look at her asleep in the bed. She was an angel, he had no doubt about that, but how long would she stay with him, he wondered now? Him being so much older.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Luke stayed five more days at Fort Laramie before returning to the Tea Cup Ranch. After tying up at the rail in front of the big house, he lifted White Bird down from the red stallion. She had ridden double with him all the way. Now, after three days of hard travel, they were both ready to plant their feet on solid ground for a spell. A bed would feel good again, as well.
On the way here, Luke had paused on the eastern rim overlooking the huge basin below where the ranch stead was located. He’d pointed out the waterfall at the far north end where the river spilled hundreds of feet to its counterpart on the valley floor. The way it then meandered all the way through to the only opening into this special place at the south end.
“Magnificent!” White Bird had uttered, completely in awe at the sight, the likes of which she had never seen before. “Woh ee-dohu-pay,” she’d added in Sioux to be sure he knew what she meant. Wonderful!
Luke had wondered where she had gotten the word, magnificent. But then he’d figured there would be many more surprises coming from this woman he barely knew, as time went on. Not that there hadn’t been plenty of those already. Perhaps she had heard Bordeaux say it? He was a mildly educated man, who used such words, not often heard elsewhere in these parts.
White Bird had taken the opportunity to change into a nicely beaded buckskin dress and matching moccasins while on the ridge above. She had seen all the people milling around the nearby corrals from there and wanted to make her best presentation.
While Luke brought up the mule he had borrowed from Bordeaux to transport White Bird’s things and tied it to the rail, Mary Tinkman burst through the screen door onto the porch.
“Well, the lost has returned!” she said cheerfully. “And what have we here?” She just noticed the young Indian woman standing shyly near the red horse, where Luke had put her after dismounting. “Oh my, you are so pretty! Where did you come from?”
“Mary, this is White Bird,” Luke said and went to White Bird’s side.
“White Bird,” Mary said sweetly. “Pretty name, too. And what a darling dress!”
“Mare-ee,” White Bird returned awkwardly.
“Did you make it yourself? What beautiful beadwork!” Mary smilingly came down from the porch for a closer look at both the dress and White Bird. It was then she noticed the gleaming gold ring on White Bird’s finger. Bordeaux had made it by hammering together and shaping some of the pale green and yellow gold nuggets Chaska had given Luke. It had a braided look, which was symbolic of marriage to most Indians.
“Are you married, Tom?” Mary instantly tossed her eyes to Luke as her mouth fell open.
“I am…We are,” he said, taking ahold of White Bird’s hand, who seemed a bit overwhelmed.
With that, Mary clasped a hand over her mouth while shifting her eyes from one to the other, as if in total shock. Then she pulled the hand away and yelled, “Cal-vin…!”
The marriage ceremony had been performed by Cola, not that there wasn’t always a preacher or missionary hanging around Fort Laramie who could have done the job. Being she was the eldest in the family, now that her parents had passed, Cola felt she had every right to tie the knot and did so just as she, herself, was married decades ago. The only thing missing was the giving of horses for the bride. Luke had gotten by cheap in respect to that. He did give Cola a twenty dollar gold piece, just to make it legal by unwritten Indian law, however.
Thinking Mary was in danger, Calvin soon charged through the screen door and landed his tall, slim frame firmly on the porch.
“They’re married!” Mary shouted the instant she saw him.
“Hey!” Calvin Tinkman brought a slow smile to his face once he had looked the two of them over from head to toe. “Congratulations, Tom!” he said, coming down the steps.
“Look how pretty she is, Calvin.” Mary took White Bird i
n for a hug.
Reaching Luke, Calvin poked out a hand and said, “She’s a looker.” He smiled impishly.
Luke took the hand but really didn’t appreciate the remark or the look on his face. Then, when he saw Calvin go to White Bird with a hug as well, her being handed around like a new puppy, he put a stop to it. “Everything on that mule goes up to the bedroom, Calvin. And Mary, we’re famished. I’m in the mood for a steak.”
“Yes, Tom,” came from both of their mouths, and they went hurriedly in separate directions to complete the chores assigned them.
With that, Luke took White Bird by the arm and guided her up the steps and into the house. He started with a tour of the spacious interior that ended up in his office, where he closed the door and went directly to his desk. From one of the drawers, he came out with a small black box, sat it on the desk top, and opened the lid. Inside was a gold chain, and dangling from it, as he brought it up, was a miniature gold eagle claw, and in its grasp was a small white pearl. He had bought it from a peddler in Cheyenne some years back to remember his dead daughter, Abigail, by. But Sarah thought that was silly and refused to wear it. So now he was passing it on to White Bird. This was a way he could see it often, as he had always wanted. And the symbolism of the charm fit her so well: the white pearl along with the bird claw. Now he wondered if the purchase of it wasn’t pre-destined. Perhaps it was White Bird he had seen in his future that prompted him to buy the necklace, so many years ago.
“For me?” White Bird said as he undid the clasp and proceeded to put it around her neck.
“For you, yes.”
Tears then formed in the corners of her eyes as her fingers toyed with the claw and pearl. No one had ever given her anything this pretty before. And this huge house she would be living in. Everything was so overwhelming.
“It’s a pearl.”
