He pushed himself further up. “Hell, I need to get out of bed,” he grumbled.
“Can it wait until the sun rises?” Sarah asked, a smile on her face. After two days of worrying whether he would live or die, she was elated to have him conscious again.
“It’s good to see you smiling, angel,” he said. His voice sent shivers down her spine. “I do need to get out of bed, though.”
“Surely it can wait.”
“Ah..no it can’t. Nature calls.”
Sarah felt her face grow hot. Hopefully the shadows cast by the lantern would conceal it. Why didn’t she think of that? She darted for his moccasins at the foot of the bed, hoping for a distraction.
With a loud groan, Chase pulled his legs over the edge of the bed, holding the right side of his ribcage. “God, I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train.”
Sarah knelt before him on the ground, and gently slipped his shoes on his feet. She glanced up. She could swear her heart stopped beating when her eyes met his. There was something different in the way he looked at her. She couldn’t define what it was, but the boyish silliness was gone, replaced with the seriousness of a grown man’s face. His eyes held a certain intensity that took her breath away.
“Get up, Sarah,” he said quietly. “You’re not my servant.”
“I…I just wanted to help. Your feet should be covered when you go outside.” She sat back on her haunches, and finished putting the shoe on his foot. She felt his hand under her arm, pulling her up.
“You have done more for me than I can ever repay, angel.” He stood, his face contorting in a grimace. He hadn’t released her arm yet. She’d forgotten how big he was when she stood right next to him. The last few days, she’d looked down at him. Now she had to look up.
Her eyes swept over him. His stomach looked sunken in, and no wonder. He hadn’t eaten in four days. The little bit of broth she’d been able to give him had not provided enough nourishment to sustain a man his size. His skin pulled tightly over his muscled arms and chest. He’d definitely lost weight. Nothing a few good meals wouldn’t bring back, though.
“Do you need assistance to walk outside?” she asked tentatively.
“I’ll manage,” he answered. He released her arm, and took a first slow step. “My feet feel better already,” he said. “I’m just weak as hell.”
It took him several minutes to get to the door of the cabin. Sarah watched him. There was nothing she could do but let time heal his wounds. The weakness would go away once he could move around more again, and his feet seemed to be healing well. She’d do whatever she could to help restore his strength. The question was, would he accept her help.
Sarah glanced around. It was too late now to think about going back to sleep. She built up the fire in the hearth, and pulled the kettle over it to reheat the stew she’d cooked the day before. He’d no doubt be hungry when he returned. She sliced thick pieces of bread, setting them on a plate at the table. Measuring out more willow bark into the coffee pot, she added water to it, and set the pot near the fire to heat.
When he returned from outside, his meal sat waiting. He glanced at the table, then looked at her. The warmth in his eyes made her want to melt into the floorboards.
“Sarah, you’ve got to be tired. I hate for you go through all this trouble for me.”
“Oh? So you were going to prepare your own meal, were you?” she said haughtily. “You’ve had no food in four days. Pretty soon even the wolves and bears won’t find any meat on you.”
“Well, since you put it like that,” he grinned at her, and pulled a chair from beneath the table. “You’re right, I could eat a horse. But this will do just fine.”
Sarah turned away from him to conceal the wide smile on her face. Why did he act so different? So…nice.
*****
Chase’s health improved with each passing day. Sarah insisted on tending to the wounds on his feet daily, amidst all his protests that he could do it himself, and she was pleased with the healing progress. He was able to walk longer and with less pain. The bruise on his ribs had turned various shades of yellow, a good indication that it was healing.
She still couldn’t explain the change that had come over him. He was kind and polite, and his rude comments had stopped completely. Was this his way of showing his gratitude to her? Sarah had thought herself in love with him before his encounter with the Blackfoot. The man he was now melted her heart faster than snow falling into a hot spring.
While he treated her with nothing but respect, there was a certain ferocious resolve about him that she couldn’t explain. She sometimes caught him looking off into the distant mountains, gripping his tomahawk with such intensity, she’d see the sinewy tendons and muscles on his forearms stretch taunt. His easy going expressions she’d come to love, and found infuriating at the same time, were absent. While his outer wounds healed with each day, the invisible scars in his mind seemed to fester and grow worse.
Sarah didn’t know what to do. She had learned over many years of dealing with her brothers that a man did not like sharing his inner thoughts. Her father seemed to be the exception. There was nothing he didn’t communicate to her mother. But she did not share that closeness her parents had with Chase. She didn’t know how to approach him about his inner demons. The battle for his life with the Blackfoot must have left a deeper scar within him than any physical wounds ever could.
With concern, she watched him push his physical limits every day. He carried fresh buckets of water from the river, whether she needed them or not. The wood box was never empty. Sarah had argued with him, and lost, that chopping wood wasn’t something he should be doing yet. She caught him practicing his throwing skills with the tomahawk with fierce tenacity, sometimes for hours at a time. Many trees in the vicinity bore the scars of his persistence.
“Would you like some water?” she called, walking up behind him during one of his practice sessions. His back glistened with sweat in the noontime sun. He turned to face her, accepting the water bag she held out to him. He wiped his hand across his forehead and took a long drink.
Sarah couldn’t help but watch the muscles move along his chest and arm, and how his scorpion tattoo moved as if it were alive. His body had grown stronger, his muscles leaner and firmer with each passing day.
“What are you staring at, angel?” he asked, his voice teasing. He handed the water bag back to her. She hadn’t been aware she’d been watching him so intently. Her face flushed, embarrassed at being caught openly staring at him.
“I…was just wondering about the tattoo you have. I’ve never seen one so perfect.”
“No? This one’s a real simple one.”
Encouraged that he remained polite, she couldn’t help herself from asking the question that had been on her mind since she’d first seen the tattoo. “What is the meaning of the scorpion?”
“My high school football team was called the Scorpions. We all had this done at the beginning of our senior year.”
Sarah shook her head, not understanding.
“I know, you probably don’t know what I’m saying. It’s kind of like a mascot. Do you know what that is?”
“A good luck symbol?” she ventured a guess.
“Yeah, something like that.” He smiled.
Sarah looked up at him. His green eyes had turned dark like the forest around them. His face grew serious.
“Why did you kiss me that day in that Indian village, Sarah?” His words were spoken in a low, quiet voice. It was a question she was not prepared for.
“I….I thought you would die.” She lowered her head. He chuckled.
“Last meal for a condemned man?” he asked, his tone strained. She directed her gaze at him once more.
“Chase, you have done what no man has ever done before. I have never heard of anyone, especially a white man, surviving what you survived. Men will talk of your deed for many years. You defeated the best young warriors of their tribe. This is not a feat to be taken lightly.�
�� She tentatively put a hand on his forearm. “You will be remembered in many lodges as a great hero to those who count the Blackfoot as their enemies.”
Chase scoffed. “Some hero. If I had listened to you, or if I knew how to defend myself in this godforsaken wilderness, this wouldn’t have happened. I can’t even take care of myself. Every time I turn around, someone’s trying to kill me.” The fierce look in his eyes, the angry set in his jaw, made her back away.
“No man can say you are incapable, Chase. Your ways may be different, but you still bested them. A man does not survive here by chance. You may be unfamiliar with the ways of the people here, but this can all be learned in time.” She smiled encouragingly at him. Why couldn’t he understand he had not failed?
Chase took a step closer to her. She held her breath. His eyes were locked onto hers with such intensity, she thought he stared right through her. Suddenly his features softened, and his hand reached up to touch her arm, sliding slowly upward.
“I’m glad you’re here to believe in me, angel,” he said softly. His touch, and the way he spoke to her, sent delicious ripples down her spine. In the distance, a dog barked. Sarah turned her head.
“Grizzly?” she called. The warm sensation of Chase’s hand remained on her arm, even as she spun to look into the distance. To the west, heading towards the cabin along the Madison, she spotted three figures walking along the riverbank. Her dog bounded through the grass in front of them. He’d obviously healed from his ordeal as well.
“It’s my uncle,” Sarah said. Chase stiffened visibly next to her. She gave him a searching look. “Would you come with me to greet him?”
“You go ahead,” he motioned with his head. All softness had left his eyes. “I can say hello when he gets here.”
“Chase, these men are not Blackfoot.” Did she have to remind him? “The Tukudeka are hunters, not warriors. They avoid conflict.”
His cheek muscles worked while he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He forced a smile. “I know, angel. Go out and meet your uncle. And, Sarah…don’t say anything to them about what’s happened.”
Sarah searched his face. Reluctantly, she turned and headed out to meet her relatives. They were still quite a distance away, too far to recognize individual people. Who else traveled with her uncle? She glanced over her shoulder. Chase hadn’t moved. She headed out across the meadow. Grizzly’s barks grew in their intensity, and he ran at her at full speed when she whistled to him. The giant dog leapt at her, knocking her to the ground.
“Easy, you big beast”, Sarah laughed. “I’m glad to see you, too.” She wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck, while he attempted to lick every inch of her face. She still sat in the moist grass when the three men drew near.
“Your dog was anxious to return to you,” she heard her uncle’s voice. Looking up from wrestling with Grizzly, the smile froze on her face. She quickly jumped to her feet, wiping her hands on the seat of her britches. Standing next to her uncle was his son, Touch the Cloud, and next to him stood Hawk Soaring. Her cousin smiled brightly at her, much like Elk Runner. Hawk’s face remained passive. He nodded politely at her, then focused his eyes further into the distance.
“Imaah, it is good to see you are well,” Touch the Cloud said.
“And you, tangumpua. You must be proud that you have a son.” She swiped some stray hair out of her face.
“It will not be soon enough when I can meet him and hold him in my arms,” Touch the Cloud said proudly.
Sarah’s eyes darted to the man standing next to her cousin. He stood tall and proud, his hand firmly around his horn bow. He wore a simple buckskin shirt and fringed pants. Around his waist hung his weapons belt, with tomahawk and hunting knife hanging on either side of his hips. His moccasins were plain and unadorned with quills or beads. In his long black hair was tied a single hawk feather. A quiver full of arrows hung over his shoulders, as well as a large leather pouch.
Sarah forced a smile. “I see you are well, Kwiyoo Natukunto’eh. It has been a while since we last met.” She’d always been so at ease around him. Now, she didn’t know what to say.
His eyes turned to her, and he bowed his head. “Imaah. I have brought you a gift.” He stepped forward and offered her the leather pouch. “Meat from a successful hunt,” he added. “You will not need to find your own for the remainder of the time your parents are away.”
Sarah took the offered pouch. It was heavy. “Thank you, Kwiyoo.” Her eyes darted to her uncle, who smiled smugly. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“Will you come to the cabin for some food? I have fresh huckleberry pie. I know you like that, uncle. I thank you for bringing my dog to me.”
Elk Runner’s face lit up. “I will not say no to that,” he said. Sarah nodded and headed back in the direction of her cabin. Her uncle walked beside her, and the two young hunters brought up the rear.
Sarah’s heart beat faster. Behind her walked the man who wanted her for his wife. Ahead somewhere was the man she wished would ask her to be his wife. And her uncle was well aware of this fact. Why would he bring Hawk Soaring, other than to toy with her? He had to know that Chase was still here. She shot him a heated sideways look. He smiled brightly at her, shrugging his shoulders. She wanted to give her uncle a piece of her mind. Looking up ahead, Chase stood still, waiting on their arrival. Sarah wondered if he would be civil, or if his anger with the Blackfoot carried to her relatives as well.
Chapter 22
Chase stood by the woodpile and watched the group approach. Unexplainable anger welled up inside him. They’re a different tribe of Indians, Russell. You can’t be mad at all of them now because of what you had to go through. The Shoshone people that Sarah considered her relatives lived completely different from those Blackfeet. He’d always pictured Indians as living in tipis, riding horses, shooting guns and arrows. The Blackfoot matched that description, but not these Sheep Eaters.
From what Sarah had told him, the Tukudeka were the only tribe that lived in these mountains permanently. The other tribes, like the Crow and Blackfoot, traveled through here, but didn’t stay the winter. He’d experienced first-hand how they lived in close-knit little family units, not in a large tribe. None of them had rifles. They hunted with bows they made from bighorn sheep and elk antler horn, and utilized their dogs as helpers in the hunt.
Chase watched the four people approach. He knew Elk Runner. He’d never seen the other two. He could almost guess who one of them was. He didn’t recognize either of them from the village. They were much younger than the older men he’d seen there, probably close to his own age. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, gnashing his teeth together. How was he going to act around the guy who wanted to marry Sarah? He hadn’t asked her again how she felt about the arrangement. He had gotten the impression that she wasn’t too happy about it, which suited him just fine. But what if her father had already sold her off to this Hawk guy?
You’re a real coward, you know that, Russell. Why can’t you tell her how you feel about her? He could just picture himself walking up to her father, asking for his daughter’s hand. He’d probably get shot, and he hadn’t even met the man. He couldn’t even take care of himself here, how would he convince someone he could take care of a wife.
Wife! What the hell are you thinking! You haven’t even asked her out on a date yet. What are you going to do, take her with you when you go home? Yeah, he could just picture Sarah living in the twenty-first century. She’d never fit in to modern society. Heck, she’d only been to a city a few times from what she’d told him. Her whole life was built around her family and Indian friends.
Chase pulled his shirt on over his head. If he had any sense, he’d be happy for her to marry this Hawk person. She’d no doubt be well taken care of. Images of her living in one of those wooden wickiups, surrounded by a cluster of little black-haired kids wearing nothing but loincloths flooded his mind. Damn!
Just be polite and don’t make a scene. Elk Runner already suspected that
he was in love with Sarah. He’d made comments even before Chase had realized it himself. It was time to put on a smile and a poker face, and be civil to the guy who would get the girl he wanted for himself.
He recognized Sarah’s nervousness immediately when she and Elk Runner and company approached. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and she clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her. A large pouch was draped over her shoulder. He hadn’t seen that before. Her eyes were round as saucers when she met his gaze. She was probably hoping he wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass her.
Chase plastered, what he hoped, was a welcoming look on his face. The only one with a genuine smile was her uncle. The younger men walked silently, their facial expressions not giving away any inner thoughts they might have as to his presence. Did Elk Runner even mention him? Their looks showed mild interest, more like curiosity. Chase didn’t see anything he could consider hostile.
Elk Runner extended his arm and opened his hand. “Chase Russell, you still lost?”
What the hell kind of question was that? “As lost as ever,” Chase clasped the older man’s hand.
Elk Runner pulled him to the side. He turned to Sarah, and she nodded when he spoke to her. Chase met her nervous glance. “I will have some pie ready in a moment.” Obviously Elk Runner had sent her away. He didn’t want her to listen in? He eyed the other men.
“This my son, Sungkwa ‘ ah Pakuunappuh, and friend, Kwiyoo Natukunto’eh.”
Chase shook both their hands. The Indians nodded respectfully, but Chase could tell he was being sized up. That was fine by him. He was taking their measure as well. Both of them were considerably shorter than he, but their proud and confident stance made them appear much larger. He and the guy Chase suspected to be Hawk held each other’s stare longer than necessary.
“You need go on spirit journey.”
Chase broke eye contact to look at Elk Runner. “The only spirit journey I’ve ever been on came from a bottle. And look where that landed me.”
Yellowstone Redemption Page 17
