Marco and the Devil's Bargain (31 page)

“
Probably just what you are suggesting,” she said with matter-of-fact aplomb.

He gave a hearty laugh and draped his arm over her shoulder as they walked toward Eckapeta's tipi. “This is a real kindness for our little obnoxious doctor,” he teased.

“
He's not so obnoxious around Ayasha,” she said. “Have you noticed?”

Marco had to admit he was innocent of that much observation. “She helps him at every opportunity, and he returns the favor by checking on the Old One that Ayasha tends. That's how they work in this encampment.”

“
I
have
noticed that,” he said. “Everyone seems to be everyone else's keeper. I could tell Father Francisco, but he would probably not believe so much Christian good will from,” he leaned closer to Paloma's ear, “savages.”

Paloma nodded, smiling when he kissed her ear. “Maybe we colonists need to look closer and see the good.”

“
I believe we do.” He looked across the encampment to where Eckapeta was helping Toshua with the pathetic turkey. “You could get a head start right now on bartering for the rosary I am going to buy you in Santa Maria.”

“
I could.”

“
I've also noticed that when the tipi flap is down in place, no one enters.”

“
I've noticed that, too,” Paloma said with a blush.

“
Big man's woman?” he asked as he closed the flap and helped her—such a kind husband—with her buttons.

“
That's what Eckapeta says.” She took over. “Marco, you're not so good with little buttons.”

The next morning, Antonio complained that someone had stolen his medical bag. Paloma just glanced away with a smile, looking everywhere but at Ayasha.

Marco put his arm around the doctor's shoulders and drew him aside. “I think your bag will reappear soon enough.
Ay!
Like magic.”

Two days later it was returned, arranged on the tree stump that had served as Antonio Gil's medical bay, the whorls and diamonds on prominent display. Marco couldn't help smiling at the delight on Antonio's face. “Owl Woman?” he asked Paloma, who nodded.

“
Antonio, did you happen to notice Paloma's rosary in the Old One's tipi.”

“
I did, come to think of it,” Antonio said, his eyes on the beautiful beading. “That was nice of Paloma.”

“
I thought so, too.”

“
You're a tease,” Paloma said after Antonio wandered away, still admiring the beadwork. “Owl Woman did it. I asked her please to cut the straps and overlap them, because the bag is too long for him. I wonder, did she have time for that, too?”

They watched from a distance as Antonio slung the bag over his shoulder. His smile at the better fit answered her question.

“
I'd like to drop him off the cliffs above us, but you and the others will kill him with kindness, eh?”

“
Everyone needs a change in luck,” she said simply. She gestured at the shabby camp. “Just look around you.”

Paloma heaved a sigh of relief on the morning that Kahúu's husband sat up, blinking his eyes and probably wondering where the time had gone; she remembered the feeling. Paloma had been tending both babies while the mother slumbered. She touched Kahúu's foot and the woman woke up, alert.

“
He is better now.”

To Paloma's amazement, Kahúu burst into noisy tears, which so startled the quiet babies that they cried, too. His eyes wide open, the warrior shook his head and lay down again, pulling his buffalo robe over his head, which made Paloma laugh.

The warrior's recovery from the inoculation was the first of several that day. By two suns later—Marco had no idea what day it was—the camp was recovering. To his astonishment, and even Antonio's surprise, no one had died.

“
I don't understand. We're all hungry and I know discouragement when I see it,” Antonio said.

Then you haven't looked hard enough
, Paloma wanted to tell him. She had learned years ago that life was divided into small means. Little by little, she had watched The People grow strong in more ways than health. Maybe physicians in Georgia lived far better than she could imagine, and he just didn't understand.

“
Can we leave in two days?” Marco asked the physician. “Will they be able to withstand the journey?”

A week earlier, Paloma thought Antonio Gil might have made some uncaring comment about trundling them up and who cared what happened. To her inward delight, he considered the matter. “If we are careful with them,” he said finally, “very careful. There can be no exertion.”

“
We can manage that,” Marco said.

Antonio nodded. “I really want to find the head chief, who might know where Pia Maria is.”

“
Where do you get the notion that there is a head leader, one man who controls everything?” Marco asked.

“
There
isn't
?” Antonio's disappointment was almost ludicrous, but Marco didn't bother to laugh. He leaned in close to the man.

“
These are
savages
. You have said it yourself. What do they know of organized government?” He did laugh then, but Paloma heard no humor. “We barely achieve that in our colony, Señor
Médico
!”

Paloma tugged him away, babbling something about Toshua needing a word with him. When they were out of earshot, Marco looked back, his eyes stormy. “Maybe I
should
have killed him.”

“
No!” She gave him a little push. “I think our doctor is genuinely concerned, but he also wants to find his daughter.”

Marco grimaced and held out his hand. “Go ahead, slap it. I'm too suspicious of the man.”

“
Silly man,” she said, her eyes merry. “Don't you see what's happened to
you
, my husband?”

“
I'm a grouch?”

She shook her head. “You're a
juez de campo
here, too, always concerned about everyone's welfare.” She kissed his cheek. “I like that about you.”

He shook his head, rueful now. “
En realidad
, we should probably leave tomorrow. We have trapped and shot everything we can eat. I know, I know, patience. Don't I always tell you that?”

“
For a different reason,” she murmured, which meant he put his arm around her and kept it there, the
juez de campo
concerned about everyone's welfare.

She never understood how word traveled in an Indian camp, but by morning, The People who were strong enough were starting to pack. At this point Paloma had little to her name. She and Ayasha had ripped up her other skirt to make bandages and her petticoat was a muddy ruin. She debated whether to step out of the noisome thing, hoping it would crawl away and die somewhere.

Hands on her hips, she stood staring at the paltry contents of her other leather bag, when Marco cleared his throat and ushered Kahúu forward. Without thinking, Paloma held out her hands for a baby, but Kahúu had a beaded deerskin dress over her arm this time. Eyes down, she ran her hand over the beads in a loving way that told Paloma exactly whose dress this was.

“
Oh, I couldn't,” she started to say, then stopped when Marco, standing behind Kahúu, shook his head slightly.

I must accept this
, she thought, as the weight of the honor settled on her so gently. “Nami?” she asked, trying out the Comanche word for sister, as she took the beautiful garment. Kahúu's brown eyes, as round and lovely as her daughter's, filled with tears as she nodded.

Paloma looked at Marco, who signed “thank you,” extending his hands out and down from his heart. Paloma imitated his gesture.

Kahúu was just beginning. Next she handed Paloma a knee-high pair of winter boots.
I will not be cold
, Paloma thought. Another thank you followed, but when Kahúu gestured for her to come out of the tipi, Paloma gasped.

It was a woman's saddle, with a high red pommel and brass tacks for decoration. It was so lovely that she had to remind herself to breathe. Thank you with her hands wasn't adequate. She put her arms around Kahúu and they clung to each other.

Kahúu was the first to dry her eyes. She gestured to Eckapeta, who had watched the lovely transaction. Kahúu spoke in the language of The People this time, as if afraid that her rudimentary Spanish would not do the moment justice. Eckapeta nodded, and touched Kahúu's shoulder, before the young mother darted away, her hands to her face.

“
What did she say?” Marco asked, when Paloma could only wipe her eyes and sniff.

“ ‘
Ride proud. You are the woman of a warrior, too,' ” Eckapeta told him.

Marco sucked in his breath and turned away. As Paloma watched him, he walked to the edge of the clearing, fell to his knees, touched his forehead to the ground, then stood again and kept walking until he was out of sight. Paloma turned to Eckapeta, worried.

The older woman touched her shoulder. She laughed into her hand, then whispered. “Give him a few minutes. Then take his hand and lead him back to the tipi. I promise you that Toshua and I will be busy helping The People pack.” She made the sign for the sun halfway down, then dipped it lower. “Take buffalo robe time with a warrior.”

T
hey left in two days, barely nourished by another bony deer and more mice, but having acquired something that resembled confidence. That morning in the tipi, Marco had proved little help in getting Paloma into the dress belonging to Kahúu's sister. Paloma insisted she should at least still wear her ragged chemise, even though he tried to take it off her, brushing his hands against her breasts.

“
You are a rascal and we are trying to leave,” she reminded him, but only in a halfhearted way, which told him precisely how satisfied she was.

“
By all means, my dove. Just think of a hot bath and your own bed, which you so generously share with me.”

She gave him a long stare then, and he knew when to suddenly become more helpful. “Hold up your arms, and I'll drop it down.”

She did, and the soft folds of deerskin settled around her, falling almost to her ankles, because Kahúu's
nami
must have been a taller woman. No matter. The slits up the sides would accommodate a woman riding astride.

She had the same look of pleasure as when Señora Chávez had made beautiful dresses for her, twisting her head this way and that to look at the beading. She turned around a few times, just to watch the fringe sway. “You probably think I'm a big silly,” she told him, faintly embarrassed.

“
I think you're beautiful and I love you.”

He sat her down and helped her on with the winter boots, glad to know she would be warm.

“
They tie behind your knees,” he said, and tickled the back of her leg.

“
Marco, you're trying me!”

“
Very well,
mi chiquita
. Let's help dismantle this tipi and ride.”

He had to struggle to keep from laughing as she looked over her horse and the new saddle, a far cry from the side saddle she had ridden into the canyon … such a Spanish lady.

“
Just put your foot in the stirrup like so and swing your other leg all the way over,” he said, trying to be helpful without insulting her intelligence. Still she stood there. “I can adjust the stirrups, once you're up,” he coaxed.

Her face turned red. She gestured to him to come nearer, even though the only thing close by was her horse, also looking at her expectantly. “Marco, I just have that scrap of a
camisa
on under this dress. What will happen when I swing my leg over?”

We'll all get an amazing view of what I normally see and no one else
, he thought, amused, but he wasn't about to say that. He looked in the direction she pointed, touched to see her point with her lips, like The People. No one was watching. Before she could object, he picked her up and boosted her into the saddle. “Well? No one saw and the horse didn't bolt.”

“
I don't mean to be silly,” she told him in that gruff voice he adored.

He just smiled and handed up her ragged cloak. “Wrap tight.”

Paloma leaned over. “I really want to carry the baby. Will Kahúu let me, do you think?”

The eagerness in her voice pained his heart. “If she thinks you can manage, I expect she will.”

His wife hadn't long to wait. Wearing the harried look of any busy mother packing for a journey, Kahúu came close and cleared her throat in that polite way of someone not wanting to invade privacy. Of course, she cleared her throat a little louder than necessary, which made Marco smile inside. Obviously she and Paloma stood on little ceremony now, and Kahúu needed her. He stepped back and Kahúu hurried forward, holding out the sleeping baby in her cradleboard.

“
How do I get her on my back?” Paloma whispered to him.

“
She'll show you what to do.”

In practiced fashion, Kahúu stood on tiptoe and slipped one rawhide loop over the red pommel. The cradleboard dangled down from the saddle, and the baby's aunt arranged it just so, tucking the soft deerskin here and there. The child slumbered on. Paloma reached over and fingered the baby's hair in equally practiced fashion. She nodded to Kahúu and the woman patted her leg, then returned to her own horse, where her child slept, too.