Lauraine Snelling - [Wild West Wind 01] (11 page)

“Hey, Indian woman, are you getting stronger?” When there was no response, Cassie spooned a couple more times before she stopped. Broth would be better, but what did they have to cook to make it? Between them and the dogs, they’d eaten all the rabbit. She should have kept out enough to boil into broth. How was she supposed to think of everything? Now, not only did she have to think about the cattle, but food for all of them, including two dogs and a severely wounded Indian woman. Knowing for certain where they were going might help make things easier, but perhaps not. For a person who was usually so decisive, she found herself flapping like a flag in the wind.

“You riding with her?” Chief asked later as they were ready to leave.

“I guess so. What if she wakes up and tries to get up?”

Chief didn’t answer. Just nodded and, slamming the steps in place, climbed up on the wagon seat. The jerk when they started moving was announcement enough that they were under way.

A moan came from the woman in the bed. Cassie immediately moved back to her side and soothed a hand over the brown cheek. “You are all right. You are safe now.” The eyelids fluttered, and with a sigh, the woman relaxed again. She had warmed up through the night, but she wasn’t overly warm. Cassie slid her fingers under the woman’s head to feel the lump. It had definitely shrunk. The rocking of the wagon made spooning water impossible. So what could she do?

Her gaze fell on the skirt hanging on the line above the stove. After making sure it was dry, Cassie retrieved her sewing kit from the drawer where she had stashed it and sat down in the square of light from the small window in the door. After several attempts, she was finally able to thread the needle. She knew she’d never win any sewing contests, but she could make the skirt wearable again.

Stitch by stitch she sewed the cut and ripped pieces back together. When finished, she held the skirt up and turned it this way and that. Satisfied, she folded it and laid it at the bottom of the bed. Cassie turned her attention to the woman’s shirt, which had at one time been white or a light color. Now, stained gray was the only description possible. It was a shame she didn’t have any bluing to soak it in. Nor had she brought flatirons for ironing.

The wagon lurched to a stop and Cassie could hear the steps going down before Chief opened the door. “How is she?”

“She moaned and I thought she might be waking up, but . . .” Cassie pointed to the bunk and shrugged. “I’ve been mending her clothes.”

Chief grunted. “Watering here.”

“Good. You want something to eat?”

He shook his head, giving her a feeling of relief. What did she have to offer the men? They’d dunked the rock-hard biscuits in their coffee for breakfast.

“Come out. Walk around.”

Wind Dancer nickered as soon as he saw her. What she wouldn’t give to be riding him in the glorious sunshine instead of being cooped up inside the dim wagon. She stretched her arms above her head and bent from side to side. If she didn’t work through some of her routines fairly soon, she’d be too stiff and out of practice to make it through even one repetition. But what was the sense in practicing? If those days were really behind her . . . The thought made her blink. Her throat caught on a swallow, and she coughed to clear it.

“We will go hunting tonight.”

She nodded. Hopefully it would be too dark to actually shoot at another deer. As Othello was her nose in the wilds here, was she supposed to be Chief’s eyes? Micah rode up and leaned over to talk more easily. “How is she?”

“Same.”

“Must be rough, riding in the wagon.”

Did he mean for Cassie or the Indian woman?

“Would you rather guard the stock?” he asked.

She shook her head. She wanted to be near when the woman opened her eyes.

“Ready?” Chief swung up onto the wagon seat. Cassie climbed inside so Micah could lock the steps in place. And with another jerk they were off.

She rapped on the small door behind where Chief sat. When he opened it, she hollered, “Is her dog still with us?”

“Beside the wagon.”

“Good.” She wasn’t sure why she was so concerned about the dog, but she wanted the woman to have something of her own when she woke up. Something familiar. Sewing now on the woman’s vest, which had some beading along the front edge, she studied her patient. The two front pieces of the vest were soft leather, while the back was cotton. She’d cut the back to pull it off the woman. What was she going to do when this chore was finished?

The rocking of the wagon answered her question. She fell asleep and nearly fell off the chair. A nap in the hammock sounded better than on the floor, so she climbed up in it and instantly fell asleep.

Something woke her. She lay there and listened. The wagon was still moving. She heard Micah say something to Chief, but what had awakened her? The mumble came again. She slid out of the hammock and knelt beside the bed. Sure enough, the woman was making sounds. Not English, that was for sure, and since Cassie didn’t know any Indian words, if the woman said something discernable, Cassie would be no help. She rapped on the small door again and told Chief what had happened.

“You come drive and I will listen.” He stopped the wagon, and they changed places. Cassie hupped the team and they continued south another hour or so. Off in the distance she saw smoke rising. Maybe it was a ranch and they could buy some supplies. She opened the little door.

“Ranch ahead.”

“Trade places.”

She stopped the team and climbed down to lower the steps. She’d heard about western ranch hospitality. Would they be welcomed as she’d heard if they went there, or were they taking a chance? Chance of what, she wasn’t sure, but . . .

S
o do we go visit that ranch and see if they will sell us some supplies?” Cassie looked from one stoic face to the other. Micah shrugged and Chief seemed to be thinking on it. She sipped from her coffee cup. What if they could buy eggs and butter, grain for the horses, meat other than rabbit? Surely they would be coming to a town where they could buy a real ax—or maybe two. She thought of the roll of money Jason had handed her. She had no idea how many fifties it contained but that’s what was on top. If it were all fifties, they would buy two axes for sure.

“Might be better for one to go, not take the wagon and animals down there.”

Cassie tried to understand if he was warning her about something. Better to ask than be caught dumb. “Why not all of us?”

Chief nodded to the wagon. “People might think Gypsies. Don’t like Gypsies. Not Indians either.”

“Why?” She knew he didn’t like a lot of questions, but she needed to understand.

“Gypsies steal. They think Indians do too.”

“So people think all Gypsies are thieves? And Indians?”

He nodded.

Cassie heaved a sigh. “So I should go.”

“Not by yourself.”

She almost asked why but hesitated.
Think like Chief would think.
The silence stretched. “I’d take a gun.” She looked at Micah, who was doing the same thing as Chief, studying his clasped hands, arms resting on his thighs.

Chief shook his head. “Take Micah with you.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right. But let’s get going.”

Within minutes he’d saddled the horses and was waiting for her. As they headed west, she looked for the chimney smoke again. Nothing. They loped under the entrance arch and down a trail with two tracks for wagon wheels.

Maybe they’d be able to buy a loaf of bread, cookies, ham, or some other meat. She’d not realized how the thought of seeing a woman’s smiling face had branded itself on her mind, but the picture of a woman in her kitchen wouldn’t leave her.

They’d been riding for more than half an hour when they finally crested a hill and saw ranch buildings laid out in a shallow valley. There was no visible smoke, although cattle were grazing on the valley floor. Haystacks waited to winter feed, and three horses in a corral whinnied when they saw them coming. They reined in the horses at the hitching rail in front of a long, low log house. Micah shrugged when she looked at him.

She dismounted, climbed the three steps to the porch, and knocked at the door. Nothing. No answer, no sound from inside. She knocked again, the sound thudding around her. Disappointment doused her like cold water. There would be no fresh food, no grain for the horses, and no friendly voice. She left the porch and remounted without saying a word. After they’d loped beyond the hill she turned to Micah. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“We’ll find a town soon.” Knowing that she’d not given the trip south any thought, let alone planning, made her wonder about her sanity. But then, she’d been pushed into this, ordered actually. If her father were running the trip, the important things of life, like food and a comfortable place to sleep and feed for the animals, would have been taken care of. Jason let her down. That was it, pure and simple. Some family friend he’d turned out to be. All he had worried about was getting himself on the next train before the men arrived to confiscate everything. And now they were traveling south through land that was so sparsely populated that they’d not seen a single traveler other than the injured Indian woman. She couldn’t think of a name bad enough to call him. Sparks of anger made her tighten her jaw.

Wind Dancer tossed his head, then shook it.

“Sorry, fella.” She forced her hands to relax on the reins and her legs against his sides to do the same. When they arrived back at the wagon, Chief was rounding up the livestock and the horses were already hitched to the wagon.

After letting Wind Dancer loose, she returned to her vigil in the wagon. What a waste of precious time. She picked up the vest to finish stitching it back together.

That evening no one mentioned the waste of time the ride to the ranch had been, and Cassie kept to her duties without comment. Spooning water into their patient didn’t seem to be helping, but other than keeping her clean and dry, she didn’t know what to do. With the men sleeping under the wagon again, Cassie enjoyed her hammock.

The next evening when Chief called a halt for the day, he stuck his head in the wagon.

“She seems to be waking up,” Cassie told him.

Chief stared from the woman to Cassie.

“She’s restless and muttering again.”

The woman had been unconscious for two days. Three days if they included the day they found her. Since that brief time when Chief had sat with her, she’d said nothing.

“Any words?”

Cassie shrugged. “If there are, I don’t understand the language.”

Chief nodded and let down the steps for Cassie to come out.

An hour later she gave the bean pot a stir. They’d cooked beans again and then added the latest rabbit after it sizzled over the fire. Snaring only one wasn’t much to feed three people, let alone four. And two dogs. Cassie had skimmed the juice off the mixture and spooned that into the woman’s mouth. She got at least a little nourishment. So far she’d not spit anything out. But the woman was wasting away before their eyes. What if she never really woke up? But surely the sounds she was making indicated a recovery—of sorts.

The thought made Cassie fight back tears. Even though she had no idea who the woman was or what had happened to her, she’d come to care for her. She’d tried talking to her, but there was no response. Not to singing either. The muttering had stopped again too. “What if we bring her dog in here?”

“Indians don’t make pets of dogs like white man. When hungry, dog is good.”

Cassie closed her eyes. Yes, she’d heard that the Indians ate dog, but one would have to be starving to do that. But people often ate horse meat too. She shook her head. She’d better watch out for her two best friends when they got to the Pine Ridge Reservation, where Chief had lived before he joined the Wild West Show. “I’m going to bring him in.”

“Won’t come.”

“I can try.” She swung the door open and, once on the ground, looked for the dog. There he was, right under the wagon under the bunk bed. She returned to fetch a biscuit dipped in bacon fat. Surely no dog would be able to resist that treat.

She held it out. “Come on. You can have it.” He reached out, nostrils quivering. She backed up. He followed a couple of steps, nose quivering all the while. She backed up again. He lunged, jaws snapping. She fell back on her rear and yelped. He grabbed the biscuit and retreated back under the wagon, growling while he devoured it. Cassie checked her hand. He’d not even left a scratch, but she was still shaking.

Chief stood on the steps, his sober face fighting a smile.

“Go ahead and laugh. At least I tried.” She picked herself up and dusted the back of her pants. “You can be sure I won’t try that again.”

“Told you.”

“You told me he wouldn’t come. Well, he came all right. Where’s Othello?”

“With Micah and cattle.” Chief sat down on the step. “Need to go hunting.”

Cassie groaned. While she understood the need for more meat, the thought of killing for it made her stomach do flip-flops. “I guess. But who will stay with her?”

“She safe here. I bring up horses.”

Cassie stepped back into the wagon to get the rifles. If a deer came close enough, maybe Chief would be able to shoot it. As she started to leave, she looked over at their patient. Her eyes were open, and she was looking around. “Welcome back.”

The gaze wandered over to Cassie and stopped.

The two women studied each other without moving.

“Hello,” Cassie whispered, as if she might frighten the woman with any louder noise.

The woman nodded—barely.

“I am Cassie.” She pointed to herself.

“I Runs Like a Deer.”

The words were so soft and scratchy that Cassie could hardly understand them. “Runs Like a Deer?”

A nod.

“And you speak English?”

“Some.” She touched the board at her side.

“You have a broken leg.”

“Broken?”

Cassie nodded. “We set your leg and put a splint on it. Sorry the board is so big. That’s all we had.”

The woman stared at her, making Cassie wonder if she understood.

“Splint?”

“To keep the break from getting worse.”

The woman asked something, but Cassie didn’t understand her, so she shrugged.

“Can walk?”

“Not yet, but one day.”

“One day?”

“Someday.”

“Oh.” Runs Like a Deer closed her eyes, slowly rolling her head from side to side.

Cassie couldn’t figure out how to tell her where the break was. With the size of the board she probably thought her entire leg was smashed, instead of just her shinbone.

“Can I get you something to eat?”

“Ready?” Chief called from outside.

Cassie opened the door and stuck her head out. “She woke up. Her name is Runs Like a Deer, and she speaks some English.”

Chief shook his head. “No more Runs Like a Deer.”

“It might heal perfectly straight.”

He shrugged and shook his head.

“I need to feed her something.”

“Hunt first, before dark. She sleep.”

Cassie heaved a sigh and fetched the rifles. He was right. Now they needed more meat than ever. She shoved her rifle into the scabbard and mounted Wind Dancer. “Let’s go.”

They rode quite a ways, with Chief watching the ground intently. When he stopped and slid to the ground, she rode up to him.

“See? Deer sign.”

“So?”

“Fresh.” He studied the tracks. “Go that way.” He pointed down the hill. “Water running over there. Tie up your horse.”

Cassie did as ordered and slid shells into her rifle, handing Chief some for his. But trying to mimic the way he moved without a sound sent a pebble bouncing before her. He shook his head, a frown making words unnecessary. He pointed to a rock behind a low shrub. “You wait there. Be ready to shoot.” He pointed ahead. When she nodded, he left the trail they’d been following and swung off to the right. Since he’d explained his method of scaring up the deer for her to shoot, she understood what he wanted. But it still meant she would have to kill one of the beautiful animals. Or maim it. The thought made her choke.

“You have to hit it,” she told herself. “This could be life or death.” She positioned her rifle and made herself comfortable on the rock. Chief had disappeared. A hawk
scree
d high overhead. She loved the sounds of the hawks and eagles flying so free.

Never had she been on the land this long before. She’d only taken short rides sometimes after a show, to see one of the local sites, but never this close to wild things.

A movement caught her attention. She raised the rifle just as a buck broke through the thicket. She tracked his front shoulder and fired. The deer dropped as if he’d hit a wall.

Cassie stood and made her way down to the fallen animal. She’d shot well. Her father would be proud, but the bloody hole in the beautiful hide made her throat choke.

Chief appeared at her side. “Good.”

She turned away, drawing in deep breaths of clean air not yet tainted by the smell of blood.

“Now, cut his throat so he can bleed.” He handed her his knife.

She shook her head, her hands, whispering, “No, no. I can’t.” Then she turned and retched into the brush.

Chief muttered. She could hear him doing something but kept herself from looking. She’d shot that beautiful creature. Surely that should be enough. But when she heard Chief grunt, she turned back and helped him hoist the carcass onto the rump of his horse and tie it to the back of the saddle. She carefully kept her focus away from the pile of entrails left behind.

“You okay?”

She nodded. Surely she would be able to get used to this. After all, they had to have meat, and in order for them to eat it, it had to be killed and dressed. She understood that fact of life, but it didn’t mean she had to like it.

They rode back to camp without a word.