by Stephy Smith
Emma ran into the cabin. Tears stained her face; she dropped to Sally’s side. She placed Sally on the bed. The Cheyenne shaman must have spotted the army around the cabin; he appeared suddenly at her side and pushed her out of his way.
Emma ran to heat water; she snatched up the turpentine, poultice, and bandages, and placed them on the chair by the bed. The governor’s personal doctor traveled with him and worked side by side with the old shaman.
She heard the familiar sled out front. The voices of Mr. Tucker and Kale filtered into the open door. She ran out and flung herself into Kale’s arms. Her tears wet his shoulder and his hands twisted in her hair.
“Your mother,” she said between sobs, “has been shot in the back. The old Cheyenne man and the governor’s doctor are working on her now.”
Mr. Tucker ran into the cabin. Kale pushed her back and lifted his eyes to the door.
“Are you hurt?” His anxiety unleashed, his hands now clenched around her arms. His eyes traveled her body.
“No. I’m fine. I didn’t see them. We were standing at the window and I didn’t see them. It’s my fault she was hurt.”
Fury burned in Kale’s eyes. “Who did this?”
“The Morgans and their men. The governor and his men showed up and took them away.” She shook down to her toes. Kale pulled her to him. She heard his heart thunder under his buckskin shirt. He ran a gentle hand over her hair. His soft whispers soothed her sobs.
Emma encouraged Kale to step inside and check on his mother. She paced in front of the cabin for word on Sally. Her heart pounded and her grief was getting the better of her. Tears fell again as she gazed across the mountain. The mountain wouldn’t be the same if something happened to Sally. Emma shook the notion from her mind.
She had grown to love the mountain. She was torn between going back east and staying here, and it weighed heavy on her mind. She missed her parents, her brothers and sisters. Deep down inside, she knew she would miss Kale more. But, he never gave her a reason to stay.
Emma whirled around at Sally’s voice. “Get out. No more burn.”
She poked her head in the cabin to see Sally push the doctor’s hands away. He held the bottle of turpentine. Mr. Tucker and Kale stood back a distance. They both breathed easier as they watched the fighting woman fend off the two doctors.
Emma crossed the floor to stand beside Sally. She reached for the turpentine and glared into Sally’s eyes. “I am going to clean this wound. I know it burns. You’re a strong woman. I do this to help you.”
She raised the bottle, dumped its contents on the wound, and jumped back from Sally’s flailing arms. A string of Cheyenne words flew from her mouth and Emma was thankful she didn’t understand what Sally called her or threatened to do to her when she was well.
Kale, Mr. Tucker, and the shaman laughed. The governor’s doctor and Emma glanced at each other. Emma set the empty bottle on the chair then swiveled to Kale.
“We need more turpentine.” Her gaze met the wide eyes of Mr. Tucker and Kale.
A screech from behind her drowned out the laughter. “No more turpentine. I hurt you, Bright Eyes.” Sally’s voice was cold.
A shiver ran down her spine. She straightened her shoulders and faced Sally. “As long as you are in my care, Woman With Small Voice, you will do as I say.”
Emma backed out of the cabin. She stepped to one side of the doorway and laughed until she doubled over. She didn’t doubt Sally would hold true to her threat, someday, but not until she was stronger. If that’s what it took to heal Sally, well, she would take her thrashing when the time came. At the moment, she looked forward to it. Relief washed over her.
Kale and Mr. Tucker joined her outside. “No one has ever stood up to my wife the way you just did.”
“That is my friend in there. I had to do something for her. She may rip the hair from my head when she is well”—she smiled at the two men—“but I have to take the chance.”
“That wasn’t one of the threats, Bright Eyes. What she did say she will do to you, let’s say, is much worse. For you will live to feel them. She will calm down—eventually.” Mr. Tucker waved his arm.
“You sure, Dad? I never seen mother that mad. I pushed her to the limits at times, but Emma pushed her further than I ever dreamed to.” Kale’s laughter was drowned out by Sally’s.
The three jerked around to come face to face with Sally’s slightly bent frame. She held her side and tried to stand straight.
Emma’s heart thudded. She didn’t expect the woman to regain her strength so soon. Sally reached out and pulled Emma to her chest.
“You one brave woman, Bright Eyes.” Sally used all her strength to walk back to the bed.
Chapter Ten
Emma sat along the edge of the Cache La Poudre River. She took her pen in hand and began. Dear Mother and Father…. A rustle sounded behind her, Emma swirled around, and Kale stepped from the brush.
“Hello, Bright Eyes. Mother told me you would be here. She said you are thinking about going back east. Is this true?”
“Yes. I thought I would go see my parents.” She ducked her head to hide the tears behind thick lashes.
“I will come with you.” His steady gaze twisted her emotions.
“Why would you want to do that?” She tilted her head.
“I want to meet your parents. Someday, Bright Eyes, you will be my wife.” His words were strong and held meaning. She sat speechless for a few moments.
“You don’t want me to be your wife. I have done nothing but cause you and your family trouble.” She ducked her head once more. Her heart thundered at the thought of becoming his wife.
Kale stood still and then lowered his frame next to her. His hand cupped her chin and lifted it. He lowered his lips to hers and uttered a few words in Cheyenne before tasting her lips.
Her arms went around his neck. She pulled him closer to her; his heartbeat kept rhythm with hers, beating through the material that separated them.
His kiss touched her heart. Ever so gentle, the kiss deepened and intensified. Her blood boiled with the desire flaming within her. He released the hold, and her mind reeled with the thought of staying in his grasp forever.
She backed away from him, afraid of the emotions he sent through her veins. A sigh escaped her lips and tears spill from her eyes.
“I don’t suppose I should have kissed you. I’m not the romantic kind of man you need.” Kale stood to leave. In her whirlwind state of mind, she stared at him. He turned to walk away. She knew she had to stop him, but how?
“Don’t go, Kale.” Her voice was soft and low. “Why do you think I need a romantic man in my life?”
“My life is hard. Always has been, and I suspect it always will be.” He kicked a rock around.
“I never said I wanted an easy life. I had it easy back east. I love it here. I love the mountain, your parents, and…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Kale brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I want you to be my wife, Emma. I have for a long time, but it isn’t fair to ask you to give up a life of pleasure for a half-breed trapper like me.”
Emma jumped to her feet, letting the pen and paper float to the ground. She advanced toward him with her index finger poking him in the chest as she raised her voice. “I better not ever here those words come from your mouth again. What gives you the right to say what is and what isn’t good for me? Do you think I didn’t have men knocking on my door back east? Do you think I am so plain as to have been shunned by men? Well, I will tell you this, Kale Tucker. A half-breed man like you is worth more than a dozen…”
Kale’s lips took hers and drowned out the tongue lashing she aimed at him. She swallowed her words and let her heart take over her actions. Her fingers spread to touch the vast chest splayed under her palm. His muscles twitched as her hand slid over them.
Her breath labored and fought to be free from the corset and dress confining the swell of her chest. His hold loosened and her rage picked u
p where she left off. “Kale Tucker, I intend to haunt your mind just like you have mine since the first time I saw you. There is not a tree or rock you can hide behind to protect yourself from my memory, no matter what the distance. Do I make myself clear?”
Kale’s eyes danced with merriment. He pulled her to him again and in English said, “Emma Donley, I love you. Will you be my wife?”
Emma pushed him away. “And another thing—” She let his words sink in. “Did you just ask me to marry you?” Her brows furrowed and she dared not to get her hopes up.
“Yes.” He straightened and took a step toward her.
She threw herself in his arms, “Yes, yes, yes,” she said. Tears flowed down her cheeks, her legs shook, and her arms wrapped tighter around his neck. Her body seemed to float as the bonds of leaving were lifted.
Kale tried to push her back, and through a strangled breath, the words formed, “You’re choking the life from me.”
Emma back away and glanced at his reddened face.
He shook his head. “Do you or do you not want to be my wife? You said yes and then choked the life out of me. You can’t have it both ways.”
She could feel the flush rise on her face. Emma picked up her pen and paper. With a turn, she linked her arm with Kale’s to be escorted back to the fort.
Entering in the trading post, Sally called for her husband. “I think Kale has words to tell.”
Kale hem-hawed around; he made swirls with his foot on the floor.
“Well, son, what has your mother in a racket?”
Emma had all she could stand of Kale’s silence. Before she could control her tongue, she opened her mouth and the words flew out. “Kale asked me to marry him.”
“How many?” Sally asked.
Emma’s brows furrowed. “How many what?”
“How many horses he offer your family?” Sally stood stiff.
“There has been no mention of horses.” Emma shook her head. Mr. Tucker and Kale stood silent and unyielding.
Sally turned to Kale. “You no offer horse for your woman?”
Kale’s stoic expression never wavered. “I give one Shetland pony for her.”
Mr. Tucker glared at his son. “You saying this woman is as much trouble as one of those mean little critters?”
“Yes. But, I love her anyway, and I have proposed marriage to her.” Kale glanced at his mother and all three Tuckers laughed.
Emma stomped her foot. “Someone better explain. I have seen these Shetland ponies and I am not for sure what is going on here, but it doesn’t seem to be going my way in the least.”
Kale explained the Indian marriage proposal to Emma. She saw the humor in the teasing as they welcomed her into their family.
Chapter Eleven
The baby growing inside Emma had not moved all morning. She was afraid to say a word to Kale. She prayed nothing was wrong. Her appetite at breakfast faded. She ate anyway to keep Kale from worrying about her not feeding the child. Her back twisted in agony.
She cleaned the dishes and set out with Kale to check the traps and gather a few wild onions and berries. Sally taught her how to harvest and prepare the herbs for their cooking and healing powers.
Emma and Kale talked about the changes in the mountain as they made their way to the traps. The green leaves of the underbrush glittered with sparkles as the bright sun filtered from the tall trees sloped on the side of the mountain.
Kale pulled the sled to the trap. Emma had her knife ready to take the pelt of the beaver once Kale removed it from the trap. For each pelt she skinned, Kale let her keep. The lining for the papoose was almost finished. She wanted it ready by the time the baby arrived.
She held her tongue as she skinned the beaver. Kale gazed in her eyes. A strange twinge of pain shot from the cramp in her back around her side to harden her stomach.
“Emma, are you sick today?” He touched her arm.
“No, I’m fine.” She bit back another contraction and lowered her head to the pelt. “This is a fine pelt, Kale. Are you sure you don’t need it to trade?”
“My child gets first choice. His mother knows what kind of pelts are good for our babies. She was taught well in the selection of the best pelts around.” Kale’s lips upturned.
Emma laughed and bit her lip. She turned to walk to the next trap and stopped by a tree. A moan escaped her lips when she stooped over, and her hand went to her stomach. Kale ran to her side. He reached for her arm to help steady her. A small moan grumbled in her throat again.
“This is the last trap for today,” he said, and offered the sled to his wife to sit on. Emma knew it was a lie. They still had many more traps to check. He raised her legs onto the sled, turned it to the cabin, and with hurried steps, headed home.
Sally and Mr. Tucker waited on the porch of the cabin. A few days earlier, they’d returned from the Cheyenne village to check on Emma. Sally informed Kale it wouldn’t be long before the baby made its way into the world, and its grandparents would be there to welcome the child.
Kale pulled the sled to the door. “It’s time.”
His mother and father remained seated in the chairs. They glanced at each other, and both jumped up and ran inside the cabin. Kale was lowering Emma on the bed.
Sally pushed Kale out of the way. Emma moaned and Kale pushed Sally from his wife’s side and wiped Emma’s brow. Sally pushed Kale again and held onto Emma’s hand for the next contraction.
Emma resisted the urge to scream out. She sent all of her energy to the delivery. Silently, she cried to herself, Please just stop the pain; get it out. That’s all I ask; just get it out.
The pushing match continued between Kale and Sally until the two heard the cries of the baby Mr. Tucker was holding in his arms.
“Why didn’t one of you say something? I missed the whole thing.” Kale waved his hands. “What do we got here?”
Kale’s hand lifted the blanket wrapped around the tiny form. A smile formed from ear to ear. Tears twinkled in his eyes. “Emma, we have a fine boy here.”
Emma glanced at the baby as another contraction hit harder this time. A groan rumbled in her throat and Mr. Tucker held his position to deliver the next child.
Sally took the baby from Kale. They inspected him, counting toes and fingers, fiddling with his ears and his little nose, both mouths rapid-firing something in Cheyenne.
Kale wrapped the blanket around his son when another wail from behind him caught his attention. His father held another baby and wrapped it in a blanket.
Sally laid the little boy beside his mother to see the second one. She glanced at her son. His face went pale and he collapsed in the chair. Mr. Tucker brought the second baby and laid it across Kale’s arms.
With a shaky hand, Kale drew back the blanket. His eyes lit like candles and tears ran down his cheeks. His voice was so low it was barely heard above the breathing in the room. “A girl. She looks just like Bright Eyes.”
Emma sat up in the bed. She held her little son in her arms. Sally rolled up a robe and tucked it behind Emma.
“Kale? Don’t you think you better get busy?” Emma’s tilted head went to her husband.
His creased face went to her. “I am busy. I’m inspecting the merchandise.”
“I don’t think they’re both going to fit in the papoose.” She smiled. Kale’s face reddened.
“You’re right. I will build another one. Mother, I need the best pelts for the lining.” Mr. Tucker watched as the two rivals headed for the door. Mr. Tucker took the boy to the chair; Emma held the girl.
“What are you calling these two?” His eyes sparkled with delight.
“Their English names will be Amelia, after my mother, and Jerome, after you and my father. Sally and Kale can fight over their Cheyenne names.”
Mr. Tucker kissed the two children on their chubby little cheeks. “Welcome to the new world, Amelia and Jerome.”
About the Author
Stephy Smith was born and raised in the Northwest Texas Pa
nhandle. She owns and operates her own ranch. Stephy enjoys her family, country living, horseback riding, reading and writing.
Also from Stephy Smith:
Orphaned at fifteen, Elizabeth George learned to protect herself and her ranch from ruffians trying to steal her part of the Rocky Mountains. Interrupted while tracking a mountain lion, she follows the smoke filled air to the half-frozen body of Frank Walling. Caring for the wounded confederate soldier, his demise stirred emotions Lizzie thought she was incapable of feeling.
Frank Walling fought for his beliefs during the Civil War. Wounded and half-frozen on the side of a mountain an angel appeared at his side. A new and difficult war of emotions boiled inside him. He determined he could not now, not ever—leave his angel unprotected on the mountain alone.
