by Aimée Thurlo
The peddler closed his eyes, then nodded slowly. “It is the flu, nothing more. Many years ago I would have shrugged this off, but I am an old man now, and my body complains at the slightest problem.”
“Okay, let’s start there. How old are you?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t really know. Nobody’s ever asked, and it was never important to me.”
The answer didn’t sound as odd to Lucas as it might have seemed to an Anglo. He’d heard similar explanations from others of his tribe. “Can you approximate?”
He exhaled softly. “I remember buying gas at twenty cents a gallon, if that helps. Years are just memories of the seasons to me. Time passes, that’s all I know.”
Hearing those words from this peddler, particularly because of all the crazy stories, made the hairs on the back of Lucas’s neck stand on end. That was the problem, he concluded. An undeniable mystique followed this man. The legend had grown from a grain of truth, like a misshapen pearl. “Your name?”
“I was called ‘Gray Eyes’ when I was a boy. Now I’m just the peddler. No one asks my name anymore. It isn’t necessary for buying and trading. I don’t take checks.”
Frustration tugged at Lucas, but he knew the futility of giving in to it. He decided to concentrate on the present “How long have you been sick?”
“Two or three days. I was on my way here to Four Winds when my body began to hurt. My skin burned. I had some herbs, and I used them, but they weren’t enough. Not this time. That’s why I came into town. I knew I could find a place to rest here at the boardinghouse and, once I found you, I was also certain you’d help.”
“Have you ever been to a doctor?”
“No. It hasn’t been necessary.”
“But you came to find me. Why?”
The eyes that held Lucas’s seemed to gleam with an inner fire that spoke of power barely contained. Lucas saw himself reflected in the silver pools and, for a brief instant, he felt a sense of recognition, an acknowledgment that fate was demanding its say.
“You and I are alike in many ways, nephew,” he said, using the traditional Navajo term to denote respect or friendship between an old man and a young one. “When others come to us for help, we are honor bound to find ways to meet their needs. That’s why I know I can count on you. You’ve walked that difficult road between the old and the new. I knew you would help me while still respecting my ways.”
The words disturbed Lucas more than they had a right to. “You and I are not the same. I try to make things better for people, but every time you come into town, trouble is close behind.”
“I’ve heard those rumors. But what of the blessings? You should learn from your brothers and stop seeing only the darkness in the world. The gifts I gave their wives brought good, too, not just evil. Remember what you were taught. Everything has two sides, and only by seeing and accepting that reality can you find harmony and peace.”
Lucas studied his features carefully. “You sound like a Navajo, Uncle.”
“I come from no tribe and all tribes,” the peddler said, and closed his eyes again.
“You’re speaking in riddles.”
“I’m tired now. If you can, find something that will ease the ache in my body so I can rest. I won’t be staying any longer than I have to.”
“As always,” Lucas muttered, stepping toward the door.
“Yes, as always.”
Lucas heard the whispered words. They touched him like an ill wind, and left him feeling more unsettled than ever. He quickly uttered a Navajo blessing, one Joshua had taught him.
As Lucas stepped out into the hall, he saw Marlee there, waiting. Compassion and determination were etched in her features. He had no doubt that, even if the entire town had stormed her front door demanding she run the peddler out, she would have refused. The peddler had chosen wisely all the way around.
“Our patient should recover. It appears he’s got a mild case of the flu. What he needs is rest, and some aspirins to bring the fever down. He’s unlikely to accept more than that.”
“I’ll bring him something warm to drink. He needs to build his strength up, even if he’s not hungry.”
“That’ll be good, but my advice is for you to stay away from him as much as you can.”
“Why? What are you worried about? I’m not afraid of the flu.”
Lucas shrugged, hating the vague feeling he had that assured him something was wrong, without giving him the ability to define it in a more logical manner. “I don’t believe in superstition. That means I don’t believe all the crazy stories about the peddler. But I’d be a fool to discount the things that I do know about him. This man is the perpetual outsider, stirring up trouble, yet never really becoming part of it. I have a gut feeling a lot of what he does is premeditated.”
“Maybe it’s a skill he’s had to acquire. He survives with very little,” Marlee said quietly. “People learn to get by.”
The empathy in her voice surprised Lucas. She had revealed much about her own life with that statement, which was something Marlee seldom did. He was about to explain why he was worried about leaving her with the peddler, a man who’d caused so many problems for his family, when the pager on his belt went off. “I have to use your phone,’ he said quickly.
Lucas hurried to the living room and dialed the number on the display. It took only a few minutes to learn that the Ayers boy had taken a bad fall off a haystack while rushing to get their last cutting under a tarp before the rain. His parents were worried. Lucas checked his watch and swore briefly under his breath. “Don’t move your son at all, and keep him warm and dry. I’m on my way.”
As he hung up the phone, Lucas saw Marlee watching him. “I have to go,” he said, checking his watch. “By now my backup medical help has already left for Santa Fe. He only promised to give me a few hours, and there’s an emergency I have to take care of. A boy’s been hurt, and I need to go check him out.”
“Do whatever you have to. I’ll be fine. I’ll heat some soup and give the peddler that and some aspirin, as you suggested. I’ll also monitor his temperature, if he’ll allow it.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Hopefully there won’t be any other, calls, but with the storm and it being Harvest Festival, who knows?” He drew in a long, deep breath. “The peddler came here to find me. He’s linked to my family, you know, not just to Four Winds, so do me a favor and be careful. I don’t want you hurt in any way, not because of me.”
Marlee smiled gently. “Stop worrying. I can handle it.”
He stood there, sensing her fears, yet knowing that she would not welcome any comfort from him. Despite the friendship that had grown slowly between them in the past two years, to Marlee independence meant the right to her secrets. It was her lifeline. His, too, he had to admit. It was in freedom that he’d found his purpose. He didn’t want to tie himself down to any responsibility that could interfere with his duty to Four Winds.
Lucas opened the door to the occupied guest room for a last quick look. The peddler’s even breathing told him that the man was dozing. Lucas walked to the bed and studied his patient. Had he really been in pain, in the throes of a high fever, would he have been able to sleep so quickly, without even having taken one aspirin?
Lucas sensed a change in the sleeping man, and the atmosphere in the sick room suddenly became charged, as if the air itself had been sparked with a burst of electricity.
“You have no need to worry. All is as it should be,” the peddler mumbled, his eyes still closed
Lucas knew the old man’s response shouldn’t have unsettled him. His brother Joshua had that same ability to sense another’s presence without having to rely on his vision. Still, his body grew tense again in readiness for trouble. “See to it that you repay in kind for the help you’ve been given here today. I want no harm to come to the woman in whose house you’ve taken shelter.”
The light in the hallway dimmed as a loud clap of thunder echoed outside. Inside the guest room, lig
htning illuminated the walls and bed in strobe-light flashes.
“Go. You have a patient who needs you now,” the peddler whispered.
Lucas looked down at the old man, aware of how little he knew about his new patient. The peddler’s face was hidden in shadows, only a memory in the reduced light “I’ll be back,” Lucas said.
The peddler’s breathing became slow and even again.
Lucas met Marlee in the living room and reached out to take Chief’s bridle from her. “If you need me for anything at all, call my cell-phone number. I won’t be far.”
“Would you like to take my car? I’ll make sure Chief’s okay.”
He shook his head. “I can take a shortcut if I ride, and be there in half the time. It’s a good thing you had that medical bag or I’d have to go over to the clinic first.”
Their hands touched as he took Chief’s bridle. Marlee laid her hand over his gently and held it there for a second. “Call me if there’s anything else you need. I can drive out to the clinic for it. And be careful out there. The rain’s picked up again, and it’s one heck of a night for a ride.”
Her touch sent a rush of desire through him like lightning. He wondered if she’d pull away if he leaned to kiss her, and hated that it mattered to him. Either way, there was no time to find out now.
As another peal of thunder shook the house, he heard Chief whinny.
Marlee stepped back. “Call me when you can. I’ll be worried until I hear you’re back at home—or at least the clinic.”
The words filled him with pleasure.
“Friends are important to me,” Marlee added, her voice husky with emotion. “Take care.”
Lucas hurried through the rain to where Chief was standing, pawing the ground. He quickly replaced the bridle, adjusting it deftly. Marlee’s explanation hadn’t fooled him. Whether she was willing to admit it or not didn’t change the fact that they were more than just friends. The attraction between them had been too strong from the day they’d met. He’d made sure Marlee had thought he wasn’t interested in her. That had given her the illusion of safety around him, something he’d felt she’d needed, particularly when she’d been his patient. But there was no safety for either of them whenever they were together now.
“I envy you, horse. Everything you need to be happy is out here at your feet.” Lucas climbed lightly into the saddle and rode off, ignoring his wet clothes and the cold, driving rain. As he left the boardinghouse behind him, his thoughts remained on the woman he’d wanted to kiss, and the peddler who’d appeared out of nowhere and stepped into theirlives.
Chapter Three
Marlee went into the guest room, feeling a bit apprehensive though she couldn’t explain why. The truth was she wasn’t scared of the peddler. She wasn’t even afraid of what the townspeople would say if they learned he was here. She’d met opposition before and knew exactly how to handle it. She also knew she’d done the right thing by giving the old man shelter.
The memory of Lucas’s concern still warmed her, and maybe that was part of what was troubling her. Sometimes it felt as if destiny was determined to bring them together. Yet she knew she could never allow that to happen. She was a woman with an unforgiving past, and an uncertain future. A man like Lucas could never be a part of her life.
As she stepped inside the room with a tray of soothing herbal tea and some aspirins, she saw the peddler was sitting up.
“You look better,” she said cheerfully. Hiding her thoughts was something she’d learned to do well around everyone, except maybe Lucas.
The lines of weariness on the peddler’s face eased, and he smiled. His eyes gentled, and as they captured hers, she saw compassion mirrored in them. For a brief instant, another emotion flickered there, but it was hard to identify. Resignation, perhaps? In the time it took her to consider it, his expression became inscrutable again.
“I brought you some camomile tea, and these are the aspirins Lucas said to give you. Is there anything else you’d like? Maybe something to eat? I have some soup warming on the stove.”
“If it isn’t too much trouble,” he said.’ “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to eat.”
Marlee nodded, then returned to the kitchen. She dished up some of the homemade soup she’d made earlier that day. Placing a hot bowl and two slices of oatmeal bread on a tray, she returned to the room and placed the tray on the bed before the peddler.
As she watched the old man eat, she realized just how hungry he was. She turned away to the window and looked out, hoping she hadn’t been staring. Protecting a person’s pride was important. She knew how hard it was to be on the road all the time, making just enough money to keep body and soul together. It must have been particularly hard for a man the peddler’s age. Remembering the lean times she’d experienced before she came to Four Winds, and the loneliness of that life-style, she felt a pang of sorrow and sympathy for the peddler.
Hearing the phone ring, Marlee excused herself and went out to the living room to answer it. As always, the sound of Lucas’s rich, deep voice sent a thrill through her. For one heart-wrenching moment, longing for what she knew she could never have filled her.
“How are things going?” he asked.
“Everything’s fine.” She knew her voice sounded too soft, and she cleared her throat to mask it. There was no way she was going to burden Lucas by allowing him to think that he owed her anything or was responsible for her safety.
“The Ayers boy will be okay, but I have two more patients coming by the aid station. I won’t be able to get back to your place for a while.”
“You don’t have to come back tonight. Your patient’s doing just fine,” she explained, wondering why she’d hesitated to mention the peddler specifically. Was it a touch of paranoia about conversations held via the phone? She shook free of the thought, and tried to concentrate on the present. “If there’s a problem, I can always call you.”
Marlee heard someone start speaking quickly on Lucas’s end of the line, and he put the phone down. When he picked up again, he said, “I have to go. But I’ll stay in touch.”
Marlee hung up the phone slowly. Something undefin-able always shimmered in the air between her and Lucas. Denying that was as useless as trying to ignore the way the scar on her face tingled whenever she grew aware of her appearance, which happened often when she thought of the handsomest Blackhorse brother.
Regret clung to her spirit, chilling her like a winter storm. Lucas was free, and it was in that freedom that his love for life shone through. He made the most out of each minute. That was what she loved best about him. Capturing Lucas would be like trying to still the breeze or stop the river from flowing. She wouldn’t do it if she could, and she doubted anyone else could. That thought comforted her.
When she went back into the guest room, Marlee was surprised to find the peddler sitting at the desk. He was leaning over something he was working on, holding something small and dark in his hands.
“Are you okay?”
He looked over at her and smiled. “I’m not used to all the luxury you have here in your home. The roughness of this wood I’m whittling helps me relax.”
“That’s beautiful,” she said, peering over the table to take a closer look. The delicate carving of a bird captured her attention immediately. Scarcely aware of what she was doing, she ran her index finger over the carved feathers. It looked so lifelike.
“It’s a raven. Raven is said to carry magic, and give a person the courage to face all the mysteries about themselves and the world around them. It brings awakening.”
“That’s a beautiful thought,” Marlee said, letting him know gently that, while she appreciated that beauty, she did not believe in such things. She looked at the empty bowl and cup. “Shall I bring you some more food?”
“You have been very kind to me, and at some risk to yourself. I don’t forget a kindness. It’s not something I encounter very often.”
Once again her heart constricted. She, too, knew a
little about the cruelties of life.
Marlee picked up the bare tray. “If you feel up to it, I’ll just bring you a bit of dessert. I hope you like apple pie.”
He nodded. “I will continue to work on this.”
Marlee went back to the kitchen. As she started to cut the pie, a soft rustling sound outside caught her attention. She froze in midmotion, listening, and heard the sound again, followed by the faint rumble of a car engine. Wondering if Lucas had returned, she walked to the front door and stepped out onto her porch. She looked up and down the street, but there were no vehicles anywhere in sight
Disappointed, she decided to go back inside. That’s when she heard a scraping noise nearby. Marlee turned her head just as a blur of white fur came crashing down on her.
She yelled and staggered back, but the bundle in her arms attached itself to her, digging its claws into her shirt. “Winston, you dumb cat!” she said, recognizing the trespasser as her neighbor’s pet. “Don’t you know enough to stay off rooftops on a blustery night like this?”
The cat began to purr, completely undisturbed by her reprimand.
“Oh, never mind. Come on in. It’s cold out here. Mrs. Sanchez must have locked you out again. I’ll give you something to eat, then let her know where you are.” She put the cat down, and he shot through the doorway, making a dash for the sofa in the living room.
Marlee walked over, picked him up and carried him into the kitchen, where she placed a small dish of tuna on the floor before him. “You stay here while I take care of my other guest.”
When Marlee returned to the guest room with the peddler’s dessert, she found him leaning back in the chair, his eyes closed. For a moment, she thought he’d fallen asleep again, but then his eyes opened and she realized he’d only been resting. She placed the tray on the table, and he eagerly took a forkful of pie. While he was eating, Marlee reminded herself again not to watch or hover like an annoying waiter.
Finally, after he’d taken his last bite, he picked up the carving of the raven from the table and held it out to her. “I want you to have this. It isn’t much, but it’s all I’ve got to pay you for your kindness.”
