Acting shy, the girl held up a small rope.
Faith took it and looked down at her garb. Nothing seemed to be missing. “What’s this for?” She chuckled at her own silliness. “Never mind. Of course you can’t tell me.” Holding it out, she asked, “Show me?”
The Indian girl gestured to her waist, then made a tying motion, so Faith knotted the rope around her dress like a belt, much to her companion’s muted glee.
Shaking her head and covering her smile, the girl went to work on Faith’s hair with a wide-toothed comb, eventually making long braids, leaving them loose instead of rolling them as Irene’s had been. She then led her to the food she’d brought and presented it proudly, using hand signals to urge her to eat.
Faith was so intent on devouring the dried fruit and stringy meat she didn’t even bother to protest when the Indian girl gathered her ruined calico into a bundle and ran from the lodge with it.
At dusk, Connell waited patiently outside the door to Irene’s teepee. A blanket was draped across his shoulders in spite of the continuing heat.
To his consternation, he wasn’t her only suitor. A muscular brave who looked to be about twenty-five, had come to stand beside him. The enmity in the Indian’s eyes was as sharp as an arrow point and as menacing as the fangs of a prairie rattlesnake.
Connell’s only advantage was that he had arrived before the brave and was therefore closest to the teepee door. If Irene stuck to Cheyenne custom, she would speak to him first, perhaps ignoring the other man entirely. In that case, Connell knew he’d best not turn his back on his rival unless he wanted his hair parted with a war club.
He could hear Irene inside the lodge. She was talking to the old medicine man in a mixture of Cheyenne and Arapaho. Pleased at the sound of her familiar voice, Connell listened. It seemed strange to hear her speaking languages other than English, but he was proud that she’d become so accomplished. Some prisoners never even tried to understand their captors, let alone learned from them.
Neither man moved a muscle when the old Arapaho appeared at the teepee door, paused to tell Irene he was going off for a quiet smoke, then limped away.
Tense, Connell waited for her to come out. Seconds seemed to tick by very slowly. Like a pocket watch in need of winding, he reflected. His heart swelled with gratitude that Irene had had her amazing watch with her when she’d been kidnapped, and that she’d had the intelligence to use it to such good advantage.
He could only think of one other woman who would have done as well, and that woman was Faith Beal. Except that Faith would probably have talked too much or acted stubborn and gotten herself into a worse pickle, Connell thought, smiling to himself. She was quite a woman. Unique. With a heart as big as the prairie and courage that would put many a man to shame.
His musings came full circle and his gut gave a twist. Irene was his betrothed, not Faith. Irene should be first in his heart even if they were both merely honoring an old promise rather than being madly in love, so why did he keep thinking of Faith with so much affection? And why had no other woman ever stirred such fervor within him? Not even Little Rabbit Woman.
As if summoned by his turbulent thoughts, Irene Wellman left the confines of her lodge to face her suitors.
Connell lifted the front edge of his blanket. So did the brave standing close by.
She hesitated, looking from man to man, and raised her hand toward Connell, palm out, as if urging patience. To his total astonishment, she then stepped into the arms of the Cheyenne brave!
Connell froze. Had his worst fears been confirmed? Was he going to have to resort to the same kind of warlike tactics that had put her in the Indian camp in the first place? He strained to hear what she and the brave were saying, but their words were muffled beneath the wrapped-around blanket. All he could hope at this point was that she’d give him a chance to talk to her, too.
A tug on his buckskin distracted him momentarily. He looked down to see who had had the audacity to break into a courtship ritual. The most unlikely Indian he’d ever seen was grinning up at him.
“Thank goodness I finally found you,” Faith said.
Connell scowled. “I should have known. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, mostly.” She pivoted to display her dress for him. “A sweet girl brought me this. Isn’t it wonderful? And so comfortable. Even my sore ribs feel better. She fixed my hair and fed me, too.”
He was eyeing her costume. “Who dressed you?”
“The same girl. She didn’t understand a word I said and I didn’t understand her, either, but we managed just fine.”
One corner of his mouth twitched in a repressed smile. “Not entirely.”
“What do you mean?”
“Irene can explain it to you,” he said, cocking his head toward the blanket where the two still stood, wrapped together from the waist up. “When she’s done with him.”
Faith lowered her voice. “That’s her? Under there?”
He nodded. “Why don’t you go into her lodge and wait for us. There’s nobody else home right now so it’s perfectly safe.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He allowed his smile to spread. “I’m sure glad I already warned the tribal council you were crazy in the head.”
“Why?”
“Never mind. Just get inside, out of sight, and wait for me.”
Faith faced him, hands fisted on her hips, and pressed her lips into a stubborn line. “No. I’m not going anywhere till you tell me what’s so funny.”
“You won’t like it.”
“Try me.”
“Let’s just say, as your uncle, I’m disappointed in your upbringing and leave it at that.”
“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Talking in riddles won’t get you off. I intend to know what’s going on around here or else—even if I can’t speak the language.”
“Okay,” Connell drawled, “but remember, I didn’t want to do this. You asked for it.”
Pausing for effect, he smiled and added, “Little Dove Woman, I regret to inform you…you’ve tied your chastity belt on the outside of your clothes.”
Mortified, Faith had immediately wheeled and run for the privacy of Irene’s teepee, fumbling to untie the rope as she went.
Although she’d now had hours to examine the knotted cords more closely, she still couldn’t visualize how they were supposed to be applied or what good they’d do.
Her cheeks flamed. No wonder the Indian girl had giggled and looked so embarrassed when she’d mistaken the rigging for a sash!
In retrospect, she felt slightly vindicated, however. Never in all her reading or listening to tales of fellow pilgrims had she heard even a whisper about Indian women wearing such things. On the contrary, more than one emigrant had sworn that promiscuity was the norm for the tribes of the plains.
Was it? Were the Cheyenne that different from all the rest? If so, they must have a terrible time adjusting to living and working beside other groups. No wonder so many of them fought amongst themselves as well as against white men.
With neither pockets nor a reticule in which to hide her humiliating error, Faith wadded the string girdle into a ball and stuffed it beneath the edge of a buffalo robe, then sat down on the robe to wait for Irene and Connell.
The soft background hum of the camp blended into a slumberous blur. Weariness encroached on her mind, urging much-needed rest. She gave in only enough to lie back on the soft skins, fully intending to remain awake. Her lids grew heavy, her aching body finding the respite it so desperately craved.
The next thing she knew, the rumble of Connell’s voice was pulling her back from a dreamless sleep.
“She’s game,” he said.
A woman answered. “Young.”
“Yes. And all alone, thanks to Ramsey Tucker.”
“We must take her with us.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve already promised to escort her to California.”
Connell ca
me across the room and stopped. Faith could sense him standing over her. She tried to keep totally still, but a flutter of her lashes gave her away.
“I think she’s awake,” the woman said.
“Yes, I am.” Faith opened her eyes and sat up with a yawn and a languid stretch. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to doze. It’s been a long day.” She smiled up at her companions. “Actually, the last couple of months seem like a lifetime.”
The woman smiled sweetly. “It is easy to lose track of time out here, even if you have a pocket watch.” She offered her hand. “I’m Irene Wellman. Connell tells me your name is Faith Beal.”
“Yes. It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Wellman. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Please, call me Irene.” Grasping Faith’s outstretched hand, the older woman pulled her to her feet. “How would you like to sleep here with me, tonight?”
A terrible weight lifted from Faith’s conscience. “Oh, could I? I don’t know all the rules and I’m so afraid I’ll make another dreadful mistake if I don’t have a woman to ask for advice.”
Irene looked puzzled. “Advice about what?”
“Everything!” she interjected, hoping and praying that Connell would be gentleman enough to refrain from explaining her most recent cause for embarrassment. It was bad enough that he’d noticed the belt in the first place. Bringing it to her attention in public like that was an inexcusable breach of etiquette.
Faith’s cheeks burned as if she’d just spent another week under the scorching sun without her bonnet. Yes, she knew she’d pressed him, even threatened him, but that didn’t mean he’d had to listen to her.
“I think I’d better be going,” Connell said with a low chuckle, “and let you ladies talk privately.”
“What about the old man? Where’s he?” Faith asked.
“Walks With Tree is going to stay in Connell’s lodge. It’s all been arranged. You and I will have this one all to ourselves.”
“Praise the Lord!”
Irene laid a hand lightly on Faith’s arm. “It would be best if you didn’t mention our God quite so loudly. The Cheyenne are tolerant of other people’s beliefs, but this teepee is considered sacred because I keep the watch in here most of the time. I have to be very careful.”
“Sorry.” Faith pulled a face. “That’s what I mean. I need advice. Lots of it.”
“My pleasure.”
In the background, Connell huffed with derision. “I hope she takes directions from you better than she has from me. Little Muddy Dove Woman can be as hardheaded as a bull buffalo.”
Laughing, Irene repeated the Indian name, then asked Connell, “What made you call her that?”
Faith answered instead, rather than give him the chance to explain that her ruined reputation on the wagon train had been the initial reason for the nickname. “And mud seems to follow me wherever I go. I washed up, but I’m afraid my hair is far from clean.”
“I’ll help you work on that.”
“Oh, would you! That’s wonderful.”
Irene glanced at Connell. “Weren’t you leaving?”
“I sure was. When two women start to sound off like a gaggle of geese I’d just as soon skedaddle.”
Raising his hands, he ceremoniously folded his arms across his chest, each fist coming to rest at the point of the opposite shoulder. All teasing ended, he bowed slightly and said, “Good night,” before ducking out the door.
Faith’s breath caught. No one had to tell her that the sign he had made in parting was one of affection. Its meaning had been evident, both from his manner and his expression when he’d looked at Irene.
I was right here, too, Faith’s pride insisted. He could have meant it for me, as well.
She would have loved to convince herself of that but she knew she was only making believe, just like the Indian children who had pretended that darling puppy was a real baby. Connell belonged to Irene and Irene belonged to Connell. End of story. Except…
Faith looked over at her doeskin-clad hostess. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Of course. You and I should have no secrets.”
She steeled herself for the disavowal she was certain would come. “Who was that man out there under the blanket with you?”
“Ah. That was Red Deer.” Irene’s eyes misted. She sighed. “I will miss him terribly. He and I were planning to be married as soon as the first snow fell. He loves me—in spite of the fact that I’m almost seven years his senior.”
Faith could hardly believe her ears. “Married? What about your promise to Connell?”
“I’d been assured he was dead. I thought I’d never see him again,” Irene said sadly. “Ramsey lied to me about that, too.”
“Perfidy seems to be his keenest skill.”
“So I’ve learned.” She mellowed noticeably. “Connell is amazing, isn’t he? Imagine him locating me after all that’s happened. When my so-called husband tried to do away with me, I should have presumed Connell was still alive and would keep searching till he found me. He was always very tenacious, even as a boy.”
“How long have you known him?”
The older woman signed. “Forever. Our families were neighbors when we were children. After Connell’s mother died, he and his father argued all the time. His father used to get drunk and beat him terribly. He ran away several times and came to our house for refuge. I think he was about thirteen and I was nearly seventeen when we pledged our troth.”
“That’s a long, long time ago,” Faith offered innocently.
Irene smiled. “Not that long.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you were old. It’s just that when I think about my life when Mama was alive, it seems like years and years have passed.”
“How long have you been on your own?”
“About three months. I’ve kind of lost track since I left the wagon train.”
“Connell says your sister is still with the Tucker train.”
Faith made a sour face. “Unfortunately. She told Connell she’d married the captain. There’s nothing I can do for her as long as she insists on believing Ramsey Tucker’s lies instead of listening to her own kin.”
“How about you? Is there no special boy waiting back home for you?”
“I shall never marry,” Faith insisted, thrusting out her chin for emphasis.
Irene merely laughed. “We’ll see about that, Little Dove Woman. I hear there are many lonesome men in California yearning for a good wife.”
“Well, it won’t be me. I’ve learned plenty since I left Ohio. Men can be nasty and cruel. Look at Tucker. And Ab. And Stuart. Mr. Ledbetter was nice, but I couldn’t even count on him for help when I needed it. I want nothing to do with the likes of any of them.”
“Not all men are so unfeeling,” Irene cautioned. “For instance, I happen to know that Connell admires you greatly.”
“He does?” Faith’s heart leaped like a frightened jackrabbit and landed in her throat.
“Yes. And I’m sure that if you can’t find your father, Connell will be happy to take his place and make sure you get a good, honest, hardworking husband.”
Faith’s jaw dropped. If she could have thought of anything to say in reply that didn’t sound unkind or ungrateful, she would have spoken. Unfortunately, assailed by such conflicting emotions, she had no adequate words to express her consternation.
Instead, she bit her tongue and prayed silently for God’s forgiveness for the thoughts whirling wildly through her mind. It wasn’t Irene’s fault that they were all victims of such a complicated dilemma. Blame lay at Ramsey Tucker’s door. Faith knew that.
She was also positive that whatever Connell’s eventual place in her life became, she would never be able to see him as anything like a father figure. Never.
Chapter Twelve
Morning in the Cheyenne camp came early. It seemed as if Faith had barely closed her eyes when she heard Connell in conversation outside Irene’s teepee. He was probably speaking in
Cheyenne, although it could just as easily have been Arapaho or any of the other odd languages she’d heard of late and she’d not have known the difference.
The timbre of his voice sent shivers dancing over her skin and skittering up her spine to tickle the fine hairs at the back of her neck. After the conversation she and Irene had had the previous night, she was even more confused. Faith didn’t know exactly what she wanted Connell McClain to be to her, now or in the future, but she was certain she didn’t need another daddy. Or an uncle, for that matter.
Then what? she asked herself. What was he? Rescuer? Friend? Cohort? Boon companion? Her guardian in buckskins? He had been all that…and more. When she looked at him her heart raced. The sound of his voice made her tremble. Mere thoughts of his gentle touch stole her breath away and left her yearning to seek him out, to be near him once again.
“Foolish, foolish, foolish,” Faith muttered, disgusted with the flight of fancy her imagination had taken. It was one thing to appreciate the big plainsman as a heaven-sent blessing, yet quite another to let her thoughts imbue him with characteristics beyond the norm. He was simply a man.
Ah, she mused, but he is so much more!
“And I am crazy,” she grumbled as she got to her feet. “Lock me up in the woodshed and hide the ax crazy.”
From the doorway Connell said pleasantly, “If you say so.”
Faith jumped. “Oh! You startled me.”
“Sorry. I heard you talking and I was afraid Walks With Tree had sneaked past me.”
She quickly scanned the empty lodge. “No. I’m alone. I was having an argument with myself.”
“Oh? Who won?” he teased.
“I did, of course.” Faith couldn’t help grinning at him. “I couldn’t hardly lose, given the lack of an intelligent adversary.”
That candid observation made Connell laugh aloud and shake his head. “Has anybody ever told you how naturally funny you are?”
“Not as a compliment.”
“Well, consider this to be one. If I wasn’t so worried about our current situation you’d have me in stitches all the time.”
Frontier Courtship Page 13
