Dances Naked (16 page)

Red Shirt looked back to Rachel and his nephew. His arms suddenly felt so empty. He grunted and Marty knew why: give him his son. “Here’s your boy,” he said. “So, do we wait for tomorrow? I mean,” Marty tipped his head sideways and shut his eyes like he was sleeping then opened them again, “do we go in the morning after we’ve had a good night’s sleep?” he asked hopefully.

Red Shirt gave a heartfelt chuckle and smiled as he nodded. ‘Yes, they’d leave in the morning.’ This white man was funny and generous. He must be part Indian. Or crazy.

The young girl, Marty called her Big Sister, made a cornmeal gruel and set it out for everyone to share, making sure that the men had as much as they wanted before she came back for the bowl. Red Shirt had kept hold of Juni
or and used his finger
to bring the viscous blend to the lad’s mouth. Evidently, the food agreed with him because he kept hold of the digit and gnawed on it afterwards, trying to get the last bit of corn
off
it. Either that or the boy was teething. He seemed to be that age, Marty recalled.

Red Shirt offered the dinner in a dish to his niece. She brought the half-empty bowl over to Rachel and the two of them used their fingers to lick the bowl clean. Marty had wanted more and he knew that the other men d
id, too. They were all hungry, b
ut they
had eaten fish the night before.
T
he little girl probably hadn’t had much to eat and Rachel was nursing two babies. She deserved a larger share, too.

Rachel was enchanted with the young girl. Marty could see the tenderness in her eyes as she watched the girl bring more wood to the fire
side
. He theorized that if she and Grant were their only family, she had probably never had a little sister. That and she had a son; she probably wanted a daughter, too. Well, after the way she and Red Shirt had been going at it nearly all night the night before,
she’d be with child soon. Hmph! N
o wonder Red Shirt didn’t want to leave to guide him to The Trees: he was still a newlywed. Their accommodations for a honeymoon didn’t seem to bother them last night. Tonight looked like they’d have a bit more privacy
,
but he might have to share her attentions. She had a new mouth to feed.

Yes, it looked like the little brave would live now. He hadn’t seen any milk goats or cows around
, and infants did
n’t do well on corn gruel. As strange as the last 36 hours had been, it looked like this eclectic collection of people
was
meant to be in each other’s lives. God knew what he was doing. They were all fulfilling each other’s needs.

August 22, 1781

M

arty made himself useful after dinner and helped Big Sister gather wood. He felt like the odd man out in this t
ribe. Shoot, he was the odd man!
No home, no designated job or tasks, no family, he didn’t speak their language
,
wasn’t used to their pasty food… but he did have
something
in common with them: his butt flap. Red Shirt was still wearing the pants they had traded for. Marty noticed him a few times discretely grabbing his crotch to rearrange his man parts. Well, he’d wait until it was just the two of them and tell the red man that he’d be a lot more comfortable if he tucked in his shirt and used the softer cotton cloth as a barrier to the rough denim. Marty wiggled as he thought about it. The soft leather breechclout really was comfortable and non-restrictive. ‘Hmm,’ he wondered, ‘I wonder if I could get away with w
earing this when I go back home? Nah,
at least not in public. However, he realized as he thought about it more, Bibb might find an Indian buck running around in nothing but a thong and a panel of tanned deer hide
,
quite provocative. “Stop it,” he told himself
a
loud. “No fantasizing until bedtime.”

Big Sister looked over at the crazy white man to see if something was wrong. Her uncle had told her not to
fear him,
but to make sure he didn’t do anything to hurt himself: he would be useful to the tribe. She trusted her uncle
,
but this animal with two legs didn’t look like any man she had ever seen. The top half looked almost like a white man, bearded and with curly hair
, but most white men wore a hat:
he was bare headed like an Indian. The middle part looked Indian, too. She was pretty sure that Dances Naked was wearing Red Shirt’s bre
echclout, but she could be wrong—s
he never looked that closely at a man’s clothing. And then
,
there was the bottom part: bony white legs with footwear that looked different from any she had seen. Those weren’t moccasins nor were they the black shoes with buckles like the soldiers and other white me
n wore. These were very strange
and both of them had something on the inside seam. It looked like centipedes were crawling up over his ankles
,
but the insects weren’t moving. She’d keep an eye on them, just in case. Centipede bites hurt real bad and almost killed her best friend last year. She sighed in recall. Running Deer had survived the high fever, redness and swelling from the insect bite
,
but couldn’t survive the high fever and red spots from the white man’s disease
, measles. She sure missed her—
her and everyone else who had died.

Marty looked up from his fuel finding foray and saw stars. That was good news and bad news. The good news was it probably wouldn’t rain tonight. The bad news is it would be getting cold, very cold. He looked around and saw Big Sister had spread out a deer hide on the ground and was rolling out her blanket on top of it. He watched as she set up another bed next to it. Probably for her father, he surmised. Then he realized what was so strange: except for the little hovel of a tent slash lean-to that the old women
were
housed in, there were no structures in this village. Then he remembered: measles. Whenever the measles struck an Indian village, the surviving members torched the homes and settled into a new site, leaving anything that had touched the ‘bad medicine’ burned to the ground along with their abodes. “Smart,” he said softly, “gets rid of the germs even if it is a bit extreme.”

Big Sister heard him speak in the strange tongue of the white man. Her uncle knew many words and had ta
ught her a few of them—‘hello,’
‘please
,
’ and ‘thank you’
—
and had promised to teach her a few more. He told her she would get more respect from the white man if she knew some of their language. If she didn’t know any words
,
they would take advantage of her. But
,
he wouldn’t teach her very many words. It was best for her to know just a few, he said, and let him deal with the white man.

Red Shirt walked up to Marty with a bundle under his arm. He looked Marty in the eye and returned his blanket roll to him, no words crossing his
lips but his demeanor saying, ‘H
ere,
I think this is yours.’

“Why, thank you,” Marty said politely. He was just deciding on whether to ask Red Shirt where he should bunk
,
or should he wait to be shown his spo
t,
when the apparent chief dipped his head in farewell, a smirk
growing
on his face as he turned away to his own designated area. He was going to sleep with his wife again tonight. Marty watched as the hint of a smile blossomed into a full-blown grin of lust. No, he wouldn’t break his friend’s concentration; he’d just find his own empty space to drop his blanket then throw himself down on top of it. All of the sudden
,
the hard earth and lying horizontal sounded obscenely enticing. He had walked and trotted beside the horses all day. He was sixty-seven, no, sixty-eight years old. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” he groaned as he picked up another armload of
tree pieces to add to the wood
pile.

Big Sister scurried over to his side and waited patiently for him to acknowledge her presence. “
Please,” the young girl said, and
then pointed to an area on the opposite side of the fire from her. She had swept away the dropped twigs and kicked the larger stones from the new bedroom site for her tribe’s guest, the man who was of use to them, the man who didn’t know how to dress, the man her uncle called Dances Naked.

“Why, thank you very much,” Marty replied and gave the lass a quick bow. “I appreciate the hospitality, miss. If there’s anything I can assist you with, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Big Sister’s eyes widened on hearing so many words come out at one time. He talked more than Old Woman did! She didn’t know what to do or say so nodded and said, “Thank you.” She had already said ‘please’ and they were already in each other’s presence so ‘hello’ wouldn’t be appropriate so ‘thank you’ must be the right words.

Marty saw her shock then realized that he was being a bit too garrulous, again. Oh well, that’s who he was and if
he tried to be someone else, he’d risk Red Shirt not liking his fake persona.
“
Nope, ‘to thine own self be true,’ Melbourne. Now go to sleep.
”

Ж

Marty was awakened by a familiar foot prod. “Yesss,” he drawled as he rolled over to see a stern-faced Red Shir
t. He smiled at his new friend—
he knew the near scowl was pasted on. He had heard the moans and giggles during the night and they weren’t all from Red Shirt. Rachel seemed to like being a newlywed as much as her husband did.

Marty rolled up his blanket then looked around to find the best area to make his toilet. He saw Number Two coming back from what he hoped was the designated area
, and
then headed to the same cluster of bushes. When he came back
,
he saw that breakfast was going to consist of hot water. Hopefully
,
a town or trading post or whatever it was called
,
was nearby. He wasn’t privy to the level of foodstores that this little tribe had but he was pretty sure that they were meager.

Red Shirt wasn’t demonstrative but did take the time to pick up Junior again and hold him, tickling the boy’s nose with the end of his finger. He waited for the lad to grab for it then pulled it away quickly. Smart father: teaching the boy to be swift at such a young age. Marty saw the tender look Rachel gave Red Shirt when she took her son back. She really was smitten with him and not just grateful to be out of a bad situation with her brother. Yes, Marty would be happy to help the extended family unit get back on their feet with the purchase of supplies
,
whether he got anything out of it or not. But
,
he still wanted to go home.

Red Shirt handed
Marty
the reins to the mare
he once
own
ed,
motioning
to him
that he was to saddle up the horse.

“
Sure,” Marty replied. Yes, it would be wise of him to be on a saddled horse when he got to the store. He was already suspect
;
wearing a breechclout instead of pants, but a white man riding in on a blanket might look a bit strange. “Hmph,” Marty grunted aloud. He was going to look odd no matter what. But then again, white men who traded with the Indians often took on their customs. “Hey,” Marty called to Red Shirt, “If you don’t want the saddle,” he said as he pointed to it, now cinched up on the horse, “maybe I can trade for more food and supplies. Sound like a plan?”

Red Shirt knew what Dances Naked was saying and nodded in agreement. Yes, that was a good idea. He had thought of it, too, but hadn’t wanted to suggest it to the white man. He’d save his words for another time. Besides, the two of them seemed to get along great when he didn’t speak. “Hmph,” he added, imitating the man’s grunt: let’s get going.

So
,
Red Shirt and Marty rode toward town, leaving The Young One and Number Two back at the camp. Marty didn’t know if they were there for the clan’s protection or if they were going hunting on their own. He hadn’t heard of any military conflicts in the area but
,
then again, he hadn’t been concerned with the war. All he had cared about was making sure that James made it to the right time and place and could save the life of his ancestor, Ian Kincaid.
And
,
that he was there to meet him. He had missed James terribly and felt guilty about letting him believe that he had died alone, out at sea, of a mysterious terminal disease.

At least that was all he had cared about for the last six months. That mission had now been accomplished. Five days ago
,
the group had parted ways with new agendas. Wee Ian
was left
in charge of his wounded father.
James and Leah’s
mission was to find the Pome
roy’s Place and her mother. H
is mission
, now,
was to find his way back to The Trees, the time portal, so he could return to the 21
st
century; to
Bibb, the love of his life
,
and Billy Burke, the son he never knew he had who for some strange reason had the same name as the actress who played Glinda, the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz.