She watched them ride away, feeling her breathing slow, but still her heart pounded. “Do you think they’ll come back?”
“No. If I was a white man, they wouldn’t have left so easily, but they see my Indian blood and words. There is honor between brothers, no matter if only half. Wayo Kapi… it is truth.”
She sank to the ground and peered up at him. “Thank you for saving me again. It seems it’s becoming a habit. You have no idea how happy I am that you came back when you did.”
He smiled and knelt, and then picking up the rabbit’s limp body, he pierced its skin with his knife. The ripping noise as he slit the animal from head to foot disturbed her, and she averted her gaze from the unpleasant sight of seeing the creature disemboweled. It wasn’t something she enjoyed despite having skinned and cleaned many an animal herself.
“I watched through the trees for a while, impressed with your courage,” he said, tearing at fur. “I wanted to wait until I was sure of their intentions. Yellow Dog seemed to be the aggressive one; the other two probably wouldn’t have bothered you at all. I know from my time with the Sioux people that not many wives eagerly accept a second woman into their lodges. I’m pretty sure even the Pawnee women feel the same.”His laughter was a welcome sound.
She felt useless, sitting and watching him do all the work, but she was hopelessly lost when it came to his rustic methods of food preparation. Accustomed to a stove and utensils, cooking over an open flame reminded her of the times she’d traveled with her parents. She hadn’t liked it then or on the wagon train, still finding it preferable to eat at a table with dinnerware and napkins over sitting on the ground and licking her fingers. Recalling all she’d been through and survived, giving up a few comforts was a small price to pay.
It was a shame she’d lost the ability to see a positive side to anything.
Wolf draped the naked hare across the empty coffee pot and began gathering more logs for the fire. He returned with an armful, and dropped them onto the smoldering cinders within the ring of stones. While the flames blossomed, he sat cross-legged on the ground, working on three longer branches. He skinned one clean, and using it as a skewer for their dinner, propped it across the pit with the other two as support. The fire crackled and popped with each drip of grease splattering from the roasting rabbit; the delightful aroma teased Sarah’s nose. Rustic or not, dinner smelled wonderful.
Wolf sat with one knee bent and his arm resting atop it. He gazed into the distance, seemingly lost in thought.
“Wolf,” she summoned him back. “How did you learn to speak the language?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Of course.”
“I was just five-years-old when my father, Charles Elder, was killed defending my red-skinned mother. We lived in Montana territory—migrating there after my parents married. A neighboring farmer and his family were slaughtered by a Crow war party, and an angry mob from town wanted my mother to pay for it. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t her tribe—an Indian was an Indian.” His brow creased.
“That must have been horrible for you. If speaking about your past is hard for you, you don’t have to continue.”
“I’m fine. Pain is part of life.” He leaned forward and pulled a browned leg from the cooked rabbit. Tender, the limp released into his hand without effort. He offered her the meat then yanked a second piece free, chewed a bite, and swallowed. “So, the town’s preacher heard what was being planned and came to our house before the others got there. He hid me and my mother beneath blankets in the back of his buckboard and took us to the church while my father stayed at home, planning to reason with the townspeople. The Reverend kept us in the chapel basement until dark and then drove us home. There wasn’t much left of the place. My father’s bloodied body lay in the yard, and the house and everything in it had been reduced to smoldering ashes. The barn looked like they set it afire, but for some reason the building didn’t catch.”
“Why are people so hateful?” Sympathy stabbed at her. Why had she asked him to relive his pain? Although saddened she had, hearing about his past provided a connection between them. Maybe sharing the experience brought him closure.
“What did you and your mother do then?” Licking grease from her lips, Sarah leaned forward, anxious for the rest of the story.
“Luckily we still had the wagon and team, and after traveling for weeks, Ma and I happened upon a Lakota village—one of seven Sioux tribes who follow the buffalo. My mother, Little Feather, intended to find her way back to her own people, the Dakota Sioux, but Lame Deer took a liking to her and made her his second wife.”
Sarah studied Wolf’s face. Despite his dark hair and olive skin, his hazel eyes revealed his white heritage. He had a striking profile—strong chin, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her heart fluttered, remembering how he had called her his wife. Her curiosity piqued. “So, how long did you live with the tribe?”
“I lived with the people until my sixteenth year. Spotted Fever took my mother and several others in the tribe, and with her gone, nothing held me there. Because I wasn’t full-blooded, most of those my age made it their callin’ to make my life miserable. In my younger years they shoved me and called me names, but as I aged and my body grew strong, the physical cruelty stopped. Still, there was always someone around to remind me I was an outsider.” He removed the skewer stick with the remaining rabbit from over the fire and extended it toward her. “More?”
She shook her head, preferring to hear the story’s ending rather than eat. “So you left?”
“Yes. That was ten years ago, and I still haven’t found where I fit.” Holding both ends of the stick, he chomped into the rabbit’s hindquarter then wiped the juices on the back of his hand. Even though primitive and missing the manners she appreciated, Wolf was a very handsome man.
Sarah gazed down into her lap, her cheeks warming. She had no business thinking such things about a man she barely knew. Thank goodness, she wasn’t small-minded enough to let his heritage determine her treatment of him, but once they got to Independence, she would thank him for his help and bid him farewell. There was no room in her life for a man, now or in the future. Still, she dared another glimpse at him through her lashes, fighting a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach.
Chapter Twelve
Sarah squinted her eyes against the morning sun and rolled away from its blinding glare. Her spine ached from sleeping on uneven ground, and a slight burn tinged the skin around the snakebite. She sat to inspect her leg and noticed Wolf’s bedroll was empty. Her heart seized.
Discomfort forgotten, she scanned the campsite for him. Scout was still tethered and munched on a patch of grass. Sarah released a breath. Wolf certainly wouldn’t abandon a horse he so obviously loved. Besides, the blossoming flames within the fire pit showed he hadn’t been gone long. Feeling useless, she heaved a sigh. Once again, he took care of business while she lazed around.
A quick glance at the bite area showed nothing of concern. The heat beneath her skin must be part of healing. Scooping up a blanket, she folded it, and then the others until the bedding was ready for travel. The sun having barely crept past the trace of morning hues revealed the hour was still early, but guilt niggled at her for having remained abed longer than Wolf. Doubts about her decision to accompany him to Independence clouded her mind, but weighing her options made it clear she had little choice. She was alive because of him.
Happy whistling announced Wolf’s arrival, and he appeared through the trees, fastening his breeches. Seeing her, his eyes rounded and his lips curled into a smile. “Good morning.”
He’d shed his long-sleeved shirt in favor of a vest, and her gaze froze on his smooth, muscled chest. Realizing she stared, she lowered her eyes. “Good morning. I’m sorry I slept so late.”
“No problem. I’ve only been up long enough to find us some breakfast.”
She looked up, eager to see the morning fare, her scant dinner long digeste
d and her stomach hollow.
Wolf pointed to the creek bank, at the dented coffee pot overflowing with dark-colored berries.
“Those look wonderful. Where did you find them?” Her mouth watered.
He gestured in the direction he’d come. “A big ol’ bush, chock full, not far beyond the tree, distracted me from…”
The silence proved awkward, although his meaning was clear. Her term of choice was morning toilette, but that sounded far too ladylike for him. She rose and inspected the appealing bounty, extracting the plumpest berry and plopping it into her mouth. Juice trickled down her chin and she wiped it away, smacking her lips with exaggeration. “Ah, that was delicious. I believe I’ll enjoy breakfast even more than I did dinner.”
Sarah grabbed the pot, plopped near the fire and enjoyed another of her fruity surprise. “Join me? The heat feels good right now, but we both know that by midday we’ll be looking for shade.”
He walked to his grazing mare and patted her neck. “It’s already too warm to my liking.”
“Well you know what they say about the prairie. If you don’t like the weather, wait a few minutes and it’ll change.”
She smiled and Wolf crinkled his brow.
“What’s wrong?”
He chuckled and tapped his mouth.
She held up open palms in confusion.
“Berry juice has blackened your teeth.”
Embarrassment rather than the fire warmed her cheeks, and she covered her mouth, trying to lick the discoloration away behind her hand.
Wolf bent and popped two berries between his lips, grinding them until the juice darkened his own sparkling white smile. “They don’t call them blackberries for nothing.”
Sarah dropped her hand and laughed, wondering if this man even had a mean-spirited side. So far, she’d seen nothing but a kind, compassionate being that went out of his way to make her feel comfortable no matter the situation. How could anyone dislike such a wonderful person, despite who bore him? His sweetness rivaled the juice awash in her mouth. No longer concerned about appearances, she gobbled down her breakfast and helped break camp.
Canteens filled and supplies stashed for traveling, Sarah and Wolf started the next leg of their journey. Already the summer sun brought a sticky heat that stuck Sarah’s shirt to her skin. She wore the wagon master’s hat low on her forehead, hoping to keep her nose from turning brown. Her childhood freckles had faded with age, and she wanted to keep it that way.
She insisted her leg was healed enough to share riding time, but Wolf remained adamant she take the first turn. He walked alongside Scout, the lead rope hanging loose in his hand.
“So tell me, Sarah…why isn’t a handsome woman like you married?” His voice broke the tedious plodding of the horse’s hooves.
Wolf’s question took her by surprise, stirring old hurt. She adjusted herself against Scout’s prickly horsehair, trying to find the right words.
“Was that too personal?” he asked.
“No,” her voice trembled slightly, “the question just brought back another unpleasant memory.” She licked dry lips. “My parents betrothed me when I was nineteen, but my beau was killed before we could wed.”
Tears welled despite the years passed.
“I’m sorry I asked. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No apology necessary. His death was an unforeseen tragedy. Austin was an experienced horseman and had just finished breaking a beautiful black stallion. He took the animal for a morning ride, and I suppose enjoyed a brisk run when….” Her voice cracked and she swallowed. “When he didn’t return home for a time, his father searched and found him. The horse was down, its leg broken, and Austin de…dead.”
Wolf’s brow creased. “Even skilled riders fall victim to the perils of the land.”
She gazed down through blurred eyes, amazed by his flair to always say the right thing. His eyes displayed kindness she doubted he’d ever known.
She raised her gaze. “Thank you for not minimizing Austin’s abilities. It was hard enough to lose the man I cherished, but then to hear some say he died because he was careless only added to my pain. He died doing what he loved, but it was still a useless waste of a good person…and animal.”
“Would you like to stop for a while?” Wolf changed the topic, pointing to a lone sycamore, its branches wide and full.
“I’d like that. I doubt I’ll ever be fond of riding.”
Wolf led Scout to the welcome shade and helped Sarah dismount. Sliding into his arms, she inhaled his musky scent. Her heart fluttered. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she backed away, running nervous hands over pants that didn’t require smoothing. “I’d really like a drink of water.”
Uncrossing a strap from his chest, he pulled one of two casks over his head and handed it to her. As she unscrewed the lid, his gaze remained on her, increasing the heat in her cheeks. Gold flecks in his hazel eyes created a sparkle that further added to her discomfort..
After three long draws on the canteen, she passed it to him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thank you. I needed that.”
With hands stretched high overhead, she bent from side to side, easing the kinks in her body and scanning the area for a place to relieve herself.
“Would you like some privacy?”
Uncanny, how he always sensed her needs.
She nodded.
“We’ll just mosey over there a little ways and you can use the tree.” He led Scout back toward the trail.
Sarah hastened around the thick trunk, lowered her pants and dropped into a squat. The splatting of urine against the ground echoed in the dead silence, and she tightened her jaw at being embarrassed at something so natural.
“Do you think we’ll meet anyone on the trail?” she called out to cover the sound.
“It’s not likely we’ll meet another wagon train, but we could encounter a traveler or two.” Distance dimmed his voice, making her feel better.
She rounded the tree, feeling refreshed and ready to go. The sooner they got to Independence, the better; she had a life to plan. Although not knowing what a new city held in store for her, she was certain whatever she did wouldn’t include horseback riding.
“My turn,” he called, dropping Scout’s rope and darting behind the tree.
Sarah repaid the courtesy and ventured to where Scout grazed, and beneath the animal’s wide-eyed stare, she stroked its muzzle. “I’m sure glad you can’t talk. You could get me into a whole lot of trouble.”
“Did you say something?” Wolf’s voice caught her off guard.
“Ah… no, I’m just chatting with Scout.” She forced a smile, her stomach clenching at her carelessness. If only she could just tell him and put her mind to rest. But she couldn’t risk angering him. Besides, how did you drop that kind of news on someone?
Wolf hefted Sarah onto the horse’s back, spun the canteens over his shoulder and mounted behind her. With only a gentle nudge in Scout’s side, the mare moved forward.
Sarah flinched at having a man’s body pressed so close, but riding double she had no choice. It was sweet torture, suffering the reality of his nearness while feeling guilty for enjoying it.
“We should reach the cutoff for St. Mary’s in a few days.” His words sent warm breath washing over her neck, totally distracting her. Although unable to see his face, she pictured those captivating eyes.
“Did you hear me?” He tapped her shoulder.
She glanced back at him. “Oh…sorry. Yes, is that a town? I don’t recall passing through it.”
“It’s more of a settlement spread out around a mission, but wagon trains have made it a regular stopping place to give their animals a rest. There’s a Potawatomi village and trading post not far from there.”
The thought of encountering more Indians caused tension to knot her stomach. “Can’t we just stop at the mission and bypass the village?”
“Don’t fret. The tribe is friendly. You only have to worry about the maraudi
ng ones.”
She took in a long breath. “I’m not sure how to tell the difference, and I certainly don’t understand the need for violence.”
Without halting the mare, Wolf slid to the ground and walked alongside. “I’m not making excuses for what happened to the wagon train, but I know firsthand what it’s like to have your life, family and everything you own threatened or taken away. Not long ago, the land for as far as you can see belonged to the Indian people. They followed the buffalo for food and wasted nothing of the remains. The white man’s useless killing of the animal has thinned the herds and made life difficult for the red men. And their land…the government has robbed them of their sacred ground, scattering the tribes like seeds in the wind.”
She detected sadness in his voice. “I didn’t know. I guess I’ve led a fairly sheltered life as far as knowing what went on outside my own little corner of the world. It must be hard when you have connections to both sides.”
“You have no idea.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Like I said, I’m trying to find out where I fit in life.”
“Why don’t you let me walk and you ride?”
He shook his head. “I feel like walking for a bit. I promise I’ll take a turn later.”
“So,” she changed the subject. “Tell me more about your friend in Independence. What’s she like? Do you think she’ll mind having me stay with her? I don’t have much money. How will I pay for room and board? Buying the wagon and team for my trip took most of the cash I had left.”
“Whoa, one question at a time.” He smiled up at her. “Maggie Smith is my friend’s name, and I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. She’s probably mid-fifties, more on the plump than thin side, gray hair and a smile that rivals the sun. She’s a…what do you call that special type of angel?”
“Guardian?”
“That’s it. She’s a guardian angel who tries to help wherever she can. But let me warn you, she’s a force to be reckoned with if you get her dander up.”
“How would you know that?”
“When she first helped me, she suffered the wrath of the townsfolk for aiding a heathen, but she soon put them in their place. Now they mind their own business and stay out of hers.”
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