The relaxing waters pulled her tired eyelids closed. Soon, her mind slowed, and with it, so did her anxiety. She had no sense of time or space as she hovered between the present and the past finally drifting off to sleep.
Moonfire slowly regained consciousness. It took her a moment or two to push the confusion of sleep away and realize something had startled her awake. She remained still in the water, careful not to make a splash and hunkered down even deeper into the steaming pool to hide. What was it that had awakened her? How long had she been asleep? Her eyes darted around her surroundings hoping to see an angry gray squirrel offended by her presence or some other woodland creature foraging on the forest floor looking for an afternoon snack.
With only her nose and the top of her head out of the water, she listened intently, but could hear no other sounds except the familiar forest noises. The sun was getting low in the afternoon sky and she knew she should get back to town. Mrs. Webber would be having a fit and had probably reported her missing by now.
She rubbed her fingertips together and felt the wrinkles from spending so much time in the water. She hadn't meant to stay this long, but she yearned to stay even longer within the peaceful surroundings that had somehow cast a blanket of calm over her chaffed nerves. If only she could.
Once again, she turned her head this way and that to pick up on any little sounds that might indicate danger. Nothing. She listened once more before quietly stepping out of the pool, her bare feet clinging to the rock-lined edge. Her skin glowed pink as the afternoon air rapidly cooled her heated skin.
Hiding in the thick bushes, she put on her dress, choosing to carry the uncomfortable corset and stockings Mrs. Webber insisted that she wear. She couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to wear such restrictive clothing and welcomed the chance to remain free of them.
Now that she was mostly dressed, she allowed herself to relax a bit and stepped clear of the bushes holding her undergarments in her hand. It was then the sound of a horse snorting nearby startled her. Falling back into the bushes she peered out through the dense branches in hopes of catching a glimpse of the horse and its owner.
Her eyes scanned the woods for just a few seconds before movement drew her attention to a spot just behind the edge of a cluster of pine trees. Not more than fifty yards away, a large black horse grazed. It was saddled and its reins trailed along the ground. She quickly searched for its rider. Could she be so lucky as to have found a riderless horse? Her heart beat wildly as excitement grew at the possibility, and her impulse pushed her to grab it and ride away, but caution forced herself to remain in hiding.
Another movement to her left pulled at her attention away from the horse until she saw the hunched form of a man. Fear shot adrenaline through her body. She hunkered down even lower behind the bush to keep from being seen. She knew she could be in great danger from this man. Better to get a look at him while she remained undetected so she pushed her head through the thick branches and spread them apart with her shaking fingers just enough to get a peek.
The man was stooped like he was looking for something he’d lost. It was hard to tell much about him, but she could see that he had a medium build with dark hair curling around the back of his head from underneath his brown hat. She couldn't tell anything else about him except that he seemed intent on whatever it was he was looking for. What could he have lost that was so important, she wondered.
Curious, she pulled the branches a little farther apart. The stranger was now on his hands and knees hovering over something in the tall grass. She heard him laugh and worried he was not right in his head. He stood and held something in his hands. Then the strange man sat down on the ground and studied something in his lap. What a peculiar man she decided.
His horse grazed closer to her hiding place and soon, the man followed, bending every now and again to reach down and pick something up off the ground. He put a few of the mysterious items inside the burlap sack hung off his shoulder and draped across his torso.
What was he doing? It looked like . . . she leaned closer because she wasn't ready to believe her eyes just yet. She watched a moment more. Yep. He was picking flowers. And leaves. And grass. When he again fell to his hands and knees and cried out in delight, she leaned further out of her hiding place to get a closer look just to be sure. Was he talking to someone? No, not someone. Something. He was talking to something on the ground. “There you are, you little scamp. I've been looking for you a long time.” She heard him exclaim.
What on earth had he been searching for? She saw him stand up and gently cradle whatever it was between his hands. Her curiosity pushed her again to strain a little harder against the limbs of the bush just a bit more. She had to see this prize he was so happy to have found. Suddenly, and without warning, one of the limbs gave way and sent her sprawling out of the bush and flat onto the ground. Stunned, she lay still for about half a second before she realized the subject of her former scrutiny was now studying her.
“Oh!” she exclaimed for lack of a better response. Shock gave way to adrenaline. She jumped up and turned to run for her life. She knew better than to be caught alone in the forest. And without a weapon for she had left her knife in her room at the Webbers for fear someone might see it and accuse her of planning to murder them.
She hiked up her cumbersome dress and turned to run, but before she could run a half dozen steps, a tree root tripped her, and she crashed headlong onto the ground.
“Please, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you,” the strange man called out to her.
She wasn't naive enough to trust a stranger in the woods. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder to see how close the man was. He was coming toward her, but he wasn't in a hurry. Perhaps he thought to rob her. Well, the joke would be on him because she had nothing of value. Nothing at all.
She tried once more to untangle her hem from the root, but it held fast. Another yank at the calico material, it still refused to budge. A quick glance behind her revealed that the man had quickened his pace. Fear spiked her pulse and she realized she needed to prepare to defend herself. She picked up a small tree limb laying on the ground beside her. It was a bit rotten, but she would make each blow count.
He slowed when he neared her, and his gaze wandered to the poor excuse for a club in her hand. He stopped a few feet away and stuck his hands in his front pockets.
“I'm sorry if I frightened you. I didn't know anyone else was within miles of me. Please forgive me.” His right hand touched his chest where his heart resided. He seemed sincere, but one should never trust a stranger her Ute mother had reminded her time and time again.
She refused to speak to him. Instead, she studied him up close. He was quite good-looking. With dark brown eyes, surrounded by thick, black lashes, the combination gave him almost a feminine look. And yet, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and the top two buttons of his linen shirt undone, he was most definitely not a female.
When she didn't speak to him in return, he continued talking to her. “I can see you've hurt your knee. Would you mind if I take a look at it?”
She looked down and saw that she had indeed scraped her knee raw. Then, it dawned on her that her dress was hiked all the way up to the middle of her thighs.
She shot him a look of challenge and shoved her dress down to cover her ankles while raising her sad little club hoping he got the message. Instead of backing away, the man had the audacity to grin at her.
“I can see you are a woman to be reckoned with and I apologize for not presenting myself in a more formal manner. I can assure you I have no interest in harming you. I am simply offering my professional services. You see, over there,” he turned and pointed to the big black horse still grazing. “My medical bag is hanging from the back of my saddle. I’m a doctor and I swear I mean you no harm.”
“I don’t believe you. Why would a doctor be roaming the woods talking to flowers and plants? No, I do not think you are a healer. I think you are touched, and I will
not allow you to come any closer,” she stated boldly hoping her meager weapon would deter the man.
But again, he stunned her with a grin that would have made her weak in the knees had she not already been fallen by a traitorous tree root.
“I can see where a bystander might think me addled, but I can assure you I am in full control of my mental abilities. Why not test me? Here, take this and if you feel at all threatened while I take a look at that banged up knee, then you have my permission to use it.”
To her shock and surprise, he reached into his pants and pulled out his…pistol. Fear punched her ribs as her heartbeat raced at the sight of the gun. But instead of pointing it at her, he turned the butt of the gun toward her and tossed it close so she could reach it from her seat on the ground.
Without hesitation, she picked it up and pointed it at the man. He held his hands up in surrender, still grinning.
“I could shoot you, you know.” Her bravado slipping. What man did this sort of thing? Why would he give up his weapon to a stranger when it could be used against him?
“Yes, you could.” He squatted in front of her a little ways off. “But the question is, do you really want to?”
Doc grinned as he squatted a few yards away from his unexpected visitor . He hoped giving her his pistol would put her at ease, because he knew that just because he declared himself a doctor, didn't make him less of a threat in the woman's eyes.
Without turning his back to her, he took a step backwards. And then another. And then another. He retreated until he had opened a comfortable space between the two of them. “Now, I’m going to get my medical bag. I’m going to turn around, so if you decide to shoot me now, just know that you will be shooting an innocent man in the back.”
Finally, the woman lowered his pistol and raised her chin in defiance. “I will allow you to treat my knee, but know that I will be watching you, and if you make one move I don’t think is trustworthy, I will not hesitate to protect myself.”
He had no desire to tend to his own gunshot wound and he had no doubt that the woman would carry out her threat if he was foolish enough to challenge her, which he had no intention of doing.
“I understand and I am not interested in having my body riddled with bullet holes. Not today anyway.” Doc tried to diffuse the woman's mistrust with humor, but if her demeanor was any indication, she didn't find his comment funny. He decided he better get moving while she seemed receptive.
“Very well. I'll just go get my horse and medical bag.”
He turned and walked across the open meadow to where his horse was now happily grazing on the meadow grass. As he approached, he reached his hand out to the black gelding. The horse offered him a welcome nicker and nodded his big black head in the air in greeting.
“Hello, my friend. It seems we've stumbled upon a damsel in distress.” He walked to the horse's head and took hold of his trailing reins. The horse nudged the burlap bag hanging from around his torso looking for a snack. “Sorry, Jasper. Nothing in there for you.” He removed the bag and draped it around the saddle horn, and then led his horse toward the woman now standing against the tree she had tripped over. Her suspicion of him was plain to see as she watched him move closer. He smiled hoping to ease her fears.
“Whoa,” he said to his horse. He reached up and removed his medical bag from behind his saddle making his movements obvious so as not to spook the woman who held his pistol in her shaking hand. Wanting to keep Jasper close, he tied the reins to a low hanging branch. Then, he turned to the woman watching his every move. “See? I told you I was a doctor.” He lifted his medical bag at her and raised his eyebrows in question. “Can I come closer? It's a little hard to examine that knee of yours from all the way over here.”
She studied him warily for another minute or so, but finally nodded her approval for him to approach.
Doc walked toward her, never taking his eyes off hers. He was mesmerized by the color of her hair. It was a fiery red and, on another woman, perhaps would have been garish, but on this beauty, it was exactly right.
She glared back at him with her crystalline blue eyes. He could see intelligence in those eyes, greater than her years. It was apparent from the tattoos marring the left side of her face that the woman had experienced her share of hardships. He knew what those marks meant. He had seen marks similar to hers before. It was evident she had been kidnapped by Indians and kept as a slave, but somehow she had been returned to the white man's world again. He knew that couldn’t be an easy life and he wondered at her story.
“Are you gonna see to my knee or stand there and stare at me?” Her words sliced through his thoughts pulling him back to the present.
He could lie to her and tell her he wasn't staring at her tattoo and wondering how it happened, but he sensed she wouldn't appreciate his deception. He shrugged and walked closer. “I was studying the marks on your face. I've seen those before,” he offered as an explanation.
“And where would you have seen tattoos like this?” she demanded to know. “You don't seem the type to trade in human goods.” Her anger evident by the spark in her blue eyes and the blush on her cheeks.
How could he answer that without giving away more than he wanted to? “Let's just say I've been treating both white man and red man around these parts for a long time. I've seen a slave or two in my travels.” His words spoke the truth . . . just not the whole truth.
She studied him as if sensing there was more behind his words, but then he grinned and nodded at her knee. “Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable while I unpack my bag.”
She hesitated for just a moment and then sat down against the tree, one hand on the butt of his pistol and the other holding tight to the hem of her skirt.
Doc unpacked his bag and pulled out a small tin cup. He poured antiseptic into the cup and dipped a clean rag in it, then turned to her and waited for her to allow him access to her knee. “If I wanted to harm you, I could have already done so, ma’am,” he reminded her.
She hesitated for a moment longer, then he saw her shoulders droop in resignation. “This is true, but don’t try anything a doctor shouldn’t.” The hard look in her eyes said much about the courage of the woman sitting in front of him. He sensed there was much tragedy behind her distrust.
“I promise, I will not.” He waited for her to give him permission. Finally, she pulled the hem of her skirt to just above her knee and held it there to make sure it went no further. She made sure he knew she was watching his every move with her hand resting on his pistol in her lap, the barrel pointing at him.
He scooted closer to her and slowly inched the soaked rag toward her knee. “This may sting a little bit,” he advised her.
She scoffed, “I'm sure I've experienced worse pains during my lifetime,” she assured him.
Doc shot another look toward her tattooed cheek and nodded. “I'm sure you are right. What is your name? If you don’t mind me asking?” He moved his eyes to meet hers and they stared at each other for a few seconds before she finally broke their gaze and pointed down at her knee. “Get busy. It's getting late and I must get back to town before I am missed.”
He nodded his understanding. She wasn't going to give him her name, at least not yet. He leaned in and gently touched the rag to her knee. He was surprised when she didn't pull away from the sting of the antiseptic against the raw flesh of her scraped knee, but he could tell she was affected all the same by the set of her jaw.
Doc pressed the rag against the wound a little harder ensuring all areas of the scrap were covered. The knee was one of the worst places to get an infection. And each bend of the joint would cause terrible pain when the infected scab spread open.
He worked on the woman's knee until he was satisfied it would not become infected. Then he used a clean rag and wrapped it around the knee to keep dirt out of the wound until a protective scab could form. “You did quite a number on that knee. Was I really that frightening to look at?” he teased.
She raised her gaze from his handiwork to his face. He could see she was studying him, but for what reason, he couldn't say for certain. When she did finally speak, he was surprised.
“My name is Mi-toge-koon,” she offered with pride.
He was surprised she spoke Ute. The Ute didn’t usually keep slaves so they must have bartered with another tribe for her.
“Moonfire,” he said, translating her Ute name into English. He was amused at the shocked look on her face.
“How do you know the language of my people?”
“Your people?” he asked in surprise.
When she didn’t speak again, he thought it best to keep the communication between them friendly. “Well, as I said before, I've spent a lot of time among the tribes around these parts. A person picks up a word or two,” he offered his explanation without giving too much information about himself. “I have to admit, the name fits you, at least the fire hair does, but those bright blue eyes of yours aren't exactly standard issue among the people of the Ute tribes. Care to explain how you ended up with them?”
“I will tell you. But only if you can explain why you roam around the forest talking to plants like someone who is ur-nip-a,” she retorted.
He laughed. “So you think I’m crazy, do you? Well, it probably wouldn’t be the first time someone has called me that, but I’m not ur-nip-a.”
“How do you—” She studied him a little bit closer. “So, you know much about the Ute people to speak their language. I would know more about you, strange doctor.”
Chapter 3
She had been hesitant to trust the stranger in the woods, and when he identified himself as a doctor, she had been skeptical. But, true to his word, he had a medical bag full of doctoring tools and he had a gentle way about his touch. But most of all, his dark brown eyes held a great deal of kindness in their depths.
Mary Page 3
