They settled down to talk about unimportant things until the conversation faded. “I’m getting so sleepy,” Anne told him with a yawn.
Ned could hardly keep his eyes open, rare for him, but the combination of comfort, weather, good sex, and the drain on his system made him very drowsy. “Me, too,” he said.
“Really?” Anne sounded surprised. “You hardly ever sleep. I was beginning to think you didn’t.”
Her words marked the first time she’d made a casual reference to his claim to be a vampire. Maybe she’s considered it, he thought, and maybe someday she’ll realize it’s true. Aloud he said, “I don’t, much, probably not as much as I need.”
“Then you’re overdue,” Anne told him. “Shut your eyes and rest, darling.”
Overcome with the need to recharge his inner batteries, to preserve the spark of life flowing through his veins, Ned did.
Chapter Ten
Ned woke disoriented. In the first moments of awakening his sense of time skewed and he wasn’t sure if it were day or night. The once familiar buffalo robes lulled him back into the past until he caught sight of the firelight casting shadows on Anne’s fair skin. Then he recalled the present, when and where and what he was. He’d left a lamp on, though, so it shouldn’t be this dark. He slid out from between the buffalo furs and flipped the switch. Nothing happened so he padded into the kitchen and repeated the action. It confirmed what he’d already realized: the electricity was out.
“Ned?” Anne’s voice floated from the living room. “What happened?”
“The storm must’ve knocked the power off,” he answered. “I’ll grab one of the oil lamps. Stay there and be warm, okay?”
“I will. Did you get dressed?” He hadn’t so he took time to pull on his clothes. Then he got two oil lamps, one a glass hurricane-style lamp, the other the kind with a tall clear chimney. He filled both from the lamp oil he kept under the kitchen sink and lit one. Ned carried it into the front room and placed it on the end table beside the now useless table lamp. Its flickering flame cast tall shadows against the wall. Anne peeked at him from under the hide, her face softened by the illumination. She watched him as he stoked the fire. “I’m going to bring some more wood in,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”
When he stepped out onto the back porch, the frigid air cut through him like a sharpened blade. Ned shivered and wished he’d at least donned his blue jean jacket. Most of the snow had slacked off but he gauged at least ten inches, maybe twelve on the ground. He used his hands to pull more wood from the pile and carried it inside. Ned left most of it on the back porch. Anne met him in the kitchen. “I’m heating up what’s left of the coffee,” she told him. “You look frozen.”
“Almost but not quite.” He kept his voice light. “Before I settle down, I need to move the stuff from the fridge out to the back porch or it’ll melt. The power may be out several days, maybe more.”
Anne looked shocked. “You’re kidding.”
Ned shook his head. “No, it’s been out before, sometimes quite a while. I think there’s a couple of steaks in there if you wanna cook them for supper.”
“Beef or buffalo?” Anne asked.
“Beef will do.” He’d prefer buffalo but he didn’t have any on hand. “I’m hungry.”
Anne grinned but he had no idea why until she said, “Well, wonders never cease. You slept for hours and now you want to eat. Your human nature is showing, Ned.” The notion appeared to please her and although he appreciated the fact she could joke about the very thing, which had upset her, Ned worried. Sooner or later, the truth would come out, probably in an ugly or dramatic way although he didn’t even want to imagine how. Instead of an answer, he cupped her cheek with his ice-cold hand. “I bet I feel more like a snowman right now,” he told her and she laughed.
By the time he’d transferred anything perishable to the back porch, Anne had the steaks ready, cooked to tender perfection in butter. And though Ned hadn’t asked for any, she’d also peeled and fried some ‘taters. He preferred them to French fries anytime and grinned when he saw them on the plates. “It’s ready if you are,” she told him. “Do you want to eat in the kitchen? It’s warm now.”
“Sure.” Heat emanated from the gas range she’d just used to make the meal. “Good thing the stove’s too old to have electric ignition burners, huh?”
Anne nodded. “It’s a little bit scary, but I managed to use it and light the burners. Let’s eat.”
As he sat down Ned noticed she’d lit a candle and placed it in the center of the table. She’d put out paper napkins, something she must’ve bought because he wouldn’t have had any. His first bite of steak delighted his taste buds and as much as he preferred meat, the potatoes came in a close second. Although he downed twice as much meat as fried taters, Ned enjoyed the meal. If he didn’t do much more than loll around and stay warm, he probably could do without blood another day, maybe two. After that, he might be able to hold on with horse blood until the roads cleared. At the thought of his ponies, he remembered he’d need to feed them come morning. He ought to check on them, but decided he wouldn’t. The more time he spent out in the arctic force winds, the more body heat and strength he’d use. They talked about the snow as they dined, then he smoked one cigarette while she stacked the dishes in the sink. Without power, the well pump wouldn’t work, so no more than a thin trickle of water could be coaxed through the pipes. With care, they could eke out enough to make coffee, maybe, but nothing more.
When Anne finished, she blew out the candle. “What now?”
“If we want to stay warm, let’s get comfortable with the hides,” Ned said. Enough time had passed the kitchen wasn’t so warm any longer. He’d like to enjoy her again, but he wasn’t sure he’d have enough energy. “We can cuddle up and talk if you want.”
Anne sneezed hard, twice. He thought she looked a little peaked around the eyes. “Don’t you feel well?”
On cue, Anne coughed, but he could see she wasn’t faking it. “I don’t feel bad,” she said. “But I don’t feel so well, either.”
Concern gnawed into his post-meal contentment. “Do you have a fever?” he asked as he put one of his big paws on her forehead. Her skin seemed cool to his touch. Anne shook her head, “Oh, no, I don’t think so. Ned, you’re sweet to worry but it’s just a nasty cold.”
“Let’s go get warm, then,” he said. After adding wood to the fireplace, he tucked Anne between the buffalo hides and joined her. So he wouldn’t need to get up anytime soon, he turned off the oil lamp before he did so no more than a faint illumination came from the hearth.
“What time is it?” Anne asked.
“I don’t know, it’s not very late,” Ned told her. “Maybe eight or eight-thirty.”
“Really? I’m sleepy, though. Maybe it’s my cold.”
“Probably more like the temperatures. Even animals want to sleep when it’s this cold outside.”
“You’re not sleepy.”
He wasn’t, not right now. “No, but I’m used to working all night. I’ll drift off, maybe, when we get comfortable.”
“Are you supposed to work tonight? You didn’t call in to work.”
Shit, no, he hadn’t, Ned realized. “No, I guess not.” He’d meant to earlier but forgot. “Can I use your phone?”
She wiggled against him. “Yeah, I’ll have to go find it. It’s in my purse.”
“Stay here, honey. I can find it. I can probably see better in the dark than you can.”
Ned wallowed out and tucked the top hide over Anne. “Keep it warm for me, okay?”
“Okay. Will the casino even be open?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s open. They never close and it’s probably more crowded than you’d think.”
“Are you telling them you’re snowed in?”
He considered her question before he replied. “Naw, because somebody will have managed to make it in no matter how much snow, or stayed. I’ll probably lie and say I’m sick or something.”
/> And he did, using Anne’s phone. “How soon do you think you’ll be back?” the manager on shift had asked, sounding harried and hassled. Ned forced out a faux cough. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d say soon as I can.”
As Ned tucked the phone back into Anne’s purse, he heard her coughing. A hard, dry sound to it worried him enough he lingered and wracked his brains to remember any ways his people treated a cough. He doubted Anne would like him to attempt to call upon the spirits or forces of nature or paint her face so he searched the cupboards for some honey. When he came back, he poured some of the thick syrup into a spoon. “Open your mouth.” She obeyed and he stuck the utensil between her lips. Anne’s hand came up to bat it away then she tasted it. “It’ll help your cough,” he said.
After a moment, she licked her lips. “Thanks,” she said. “Maybe so. Did you call?”
“Yeah, I did.” He crawled beside her and took her into his arms. “If you’re tired, why don’t you sleep?”
“I might. What’re we doing tomorrow?”
“Probably the same as today unless the snow melts,” Ned told her. “I’ll have to feed the ponies sometime.”
“Maybe we can decorate for Christmas,” Anne said. He figured she was joking so he didn’t answer her and a few minutes later, he heard the subtle shift in her breathing as she slept.
In the morning, however, he found out she’d been serious. Anne, thick-voiced and a bit hoarse with her cold, asked if he’d get out his Christmas decorations. “It’ll be fun,” she told him.
Ned drank more coffee before he answered. “Anne, I don’t have any. No Christmas tree, no wreath for the door, no strings of lights, nothing.”
Her forehead wrinkled as she frowned. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, I’m not. Anne, I’ve never celebrated Christmas.”
Anne put her cup down on the kitchen table so hard he thought it might’ve cracked. “I don’t understand why not. I thought everyone did.”
He might not have a university education. Hell, he had no real education recognized in the white man’s world, but he knew better than that. “They don’t, Anne, and I never have.”
“Why not?”
“I’m Comanche,” he said. “We’re not super religious and traditionally we weren’t Christian.”
“I know a lot of Native Americans who are very devout in their faith,” Anne said. “Didn’t your family have Christmas when you were growing up? Surely they did, Ned!”
“No,” he said, able to tell the truth without enhancement or omission. “They didn’t.”
“Oh, Ned.” She sounded sorry for him and he didn’t want pity. She also sounded hurt.
“Honey,” he began and tried to find the right words. “I’ll do whatever you want for Christmas. I’ll go home to your folks with you and I’ll buy you a present. I’ll sing holiday songs and whatever else you want. But I don’t own any Christmas decorations and I’m not going out to buy any in this weather.”
She made some soft snuffling sounds and he wasn’t sure if she might be congested or crying. Either way, he knew he’d managed to upset her with his lack of holiday cheer. “But if you need cold medicine, I’ll go to Lawton and get whatever you tell me to buy.”
Anne tightened her arms around him. “Oh, no, I don’t want you going anywhere when the roads are like this. And I’m sorry if I was nagging, but I’m surprised. I love you, Ned, and it doesn’t matter if you keep Christmas or not.”
“It does if you like it.”
“I love Christmas.”
Ned laughed a little. “I noticed. Honey, I don’t even know much about what it’s all supposed to mean. Oh, I know the history, the baby born in a stable was the Christ, Son of God, but I’ve never got where all the other junk came from or how any of it connects. Or why people put up trees and hang pretty stuff on them. But it seems to be important to you, so I’ll try to get into it.”
When she shifted position, Anne ended up with her head tucked against his shoulder. “I’m glad and I appreciate it. You know, I’m not sure how all of it became part of the holidays. The reindeer comes from a song and then a television special, but it doesn’t matter. Christmas is really about family and being with people you love.”
He’d never heard it expressed in those terms but if Anne believed it, so could he. “I can do Christmas like that, honey,” he said. “I love you and I’ll do my best not to scare the hell out of your family.”
Ned spoke with feigned bravado. He’d do it, go home with Anne and meet her family. He’d spend a few days under their roof, mind his manners, and hope the weather wasn’t fine. Ned would do it because he loved Anne in every way he figured a man could love a woman, but it terrified him. Being penned up tight with a lot of ordinary humans packed potential for disaster in more ways than he could count.
“You won’t,” Anne said. “I think they’ll love you, Ned.”
“We’ll see,” he replied. If he’d been a praying man, he would’ve said a prayer or two or three. Instead he held Anne as she slept and coughed and sneezed. Somewhere deep into the bottom of the night, Ned slept too.
He woke to Anne’s harsh coughing, her body jarring against him with each bark. She sat up, choking on mucous and put a hand to her chest. “You okay?” he asked as he propped up on one elbow.
She shook her head. Anne coughed again. “I think I’ve got bronchitis. I’ve had it before.”
Ned placed his hand against her back when another round of coughing wracked her. He could hear the rattle of her congested lungs with his superhuman hearing. “What do you need, sugar?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Anne sounded petulant as a child. “Do you have any aspirin, maybe?”
He did, because the casino once handed out first aid kits. His remained intact, but there were a couple of packets of aspirin. “Yeah, I think so. I’ll go get them for you.”
When Ned returned he found Anne on the couch. Her arms folded around her body as if she must be cold and when she lifted her head, she appeared sick. Her glazed eyes revealed her misery and when a coughing fit wracked her body, Anne trembled with the force. “Here, honey,” he said as he handed her the tablets and a glass of water. She swallowed them and tried to smile. Ned put his palm across her forehead and found it warmer than it ought to be. “I think you’re running a little fever.”
Anne nodded. “Yeah, I think I am. I’m pretty sure it’s bronchitis.”
Although he wasn’t entirely sure exactly what that might be, Ned knew his woman was ill. “Listen, honey, if you need to go to the doctor I can get you there. It may take a while, but we’ll make it.”
“I don’t want to risk it. He’ll just give me some high-powered cough syrup anyway and tell me to rest. I wish I felt better, that’s all and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Anne. You didn’t get sick on purpose. Want some more honey?”
“I guess,” she said. “I’d like some coffee too, anything hot.”
“I’ll stir up the fire and add wood. Then I’ll make coffee on the stove. If you want, lay back down. It’s probably warmer.”
“I don’t know. I love the buffalo hides, but the floor’s getting hard.”
She’s fussy because she doesn’t feel well. Ned paused before he replied. “I’ll drag the mattress from the bed in here if you want.”
“I’d like that,” she said with the faint glimmer of a smile. “Thank you.”
Ned dosed her with spoonfuls of honey then made coffee. He used some of the gallon jugs he kept around for such occasions. By now, he wouldn’t be able to dredge much out of the pipes. She drank two cups of coffee then lay down on the mattress he delivered. Ned covered her with the hides and fetched pillows for her too. “Aren’t you going to climb in with me?” she asked.
He’d had more rest than he could manage now. “I need to go out and check on the horses, toss them some hay. Then I’ll see if I can rustle something up for dinner. Try to rest, honey, and feel better if
you can.”
Anne’s sigh carried the force of the wind. “I’ll try. Hurry back, okay?”
Ned bent down and kissed her feverish forehead. “I will, honey.”
Her illness worried him, not because he thought it serious, but because it brought back unpleasant reminders of when his daughters died. They coughed, too and struggled to breathe, but they had a white man’s disease, diphtheria, not bronchitis. Ned recalled all too well how harsh their coughs racked their slender young bodies and the way their skin glowed with a bluish cast––something the eagle doctor said meant they lacked air in their lungs. Anne wasn’t as sick as his children but the slight similarities frightened him. As he fed the horses, he wracked his brain for ways to help his woman. It’d been so long since he’d thought about healing and even long ago he hadn’t done much, but depended on others. Sage tea came to mind and so did sweat lodge. He gave hay to the ponies and decided he’d best take a little blood. Within a day or two at most, he would need human blood or he’d sicken too.
Ned selected Taabe, his favorite, one of the paint stallions. He moved in close, held it by the halter and bit the animal on the withers. He’d learned enough finesse over the decades he could make his bite all but painless and the horse didn’t protest much. The taste of its blood rankled in his mouth, the flavor very different than human. After, he cleaned his mouth out with snow and spit to rid the lingering aftertaste on his tongue. Before he checked on Anne, he poured a cup of lukewarm coffee from the pot on the stove. Then he wiped his lips in case a drop or two of blood lingered.
Anne slept, curled on one side, but her breathing sounded rough to him. Ned waited until his hands warmed up before he touched her but her skin still burned with too much heat. He smoothed back a stray bit of hair and returned to the kitchen. Although he wasn’t sure how he’d get her to drink it, he brewed some sage tea. He hadn’t had any in years, and if Anne hadn’t stocked his cupboards, he doubted he would have had the herb on hand. Ned drank a sip and made a face. The bitter flavor rankled so he added a bit of sugar. He tasted it again and decided it might be palatable.
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