Deborah Camp (35 page)

This time he urged her ahead of him by rocking the heel of his hand against the button of flesh that triggered an avalanche of white-hot feelings. She felt her muscles contract around him and heard his swift intake of breath before he jerked deep inside her. Moments later he went limp and shifted his weight.

“Are you all right?” she asked, half-laughing at his exhaustion.

He smiled weakly. “I’m more than all right. I’m—”

The rest was chopped off by the frenzied barking of Patrol and Sentry outside. Copper and Tucker sprang from the bunk and grabbed for their robes and weapons.

Copper pushed Tucker aside when he lunged for the door. “No, don’t! You can’t be seen!”

“To hell with that. If they’re out there, I’m going to blow their damned heads off. I’m sick of this.”

“Tucker, no!” She wrenched open the door and darted barefoot into the snow while he struggled to put on his moccasins.

“Copper, damn it!” he bellowed, hobbling after her.

The dogs danced around a tree, sniffing and whining. In the weak moonlight, Tucker could only make out a dark shadow splashed across the tree trunk. When he was closer, he saw that it was a dead coyote held to the tree by a knife through its neck.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, looking at Copper’s unreadable expression. “Tell me what it means and who left it. Gros Ventre, most probably. Show yourself, you spineless bastards!” he bellowed.

“Hush up!” Copper shoved an elbow in his stomach, cutting off his wind for a second. “Maybe you want to start a war, but I don’t.”

“Start a war?” He grasped the knife and removed it with a grunt. The coyote slithered down the trunk and the dogs pranced around it, sniffing it, biting the air around it. “What do you call this?” Tucker demanded, shaking the bloody knife under Copper’s nose. “This is a war, Copper, and I’m sick of these games. If they want to fight, then let’s by God fight!”

“You don’t have a regiment backing you up this time, Captain Jones,” she stated coldly and a bit cruelly. “Just a woman and a baby. Remember that
when you taunt a tribe of Indians.” She snatched the knife from him to examine it. “There aren’t any markings on this. Whoever left it, doesn’t want to be known—yet.” She found that more sinister than the other shafts and bad medicine pouches left at her door, all clearly decorated with markings of tribe or warrior.

“What’s the significance of the coyote?” Tucker asked, mollified by Copper’s sharp tongue.

“The coyote is a creature that sneaks around like a coward.”

“So we’re cowards, is that it?” Tucker grabbed the coyote by its ruff and flung it off into the darkness.

The dogs started to bound after it, but Copper hissed a command for them to stay. They sat on their haunches on either side of her and she stroked their heads for a few moments before the chilly wind reminded her that she was barefoot and wore only a buffalo robe. She turned to go back inside.

“It’s starting to snow again,” Tucker commented behind her.

She paused to look up at the floating bits of lace and enjoy their wet kisses on her face. “Good.”

“Good? Aren’t you tired of the snow yet?”

Copper shook her head. She reached back for his hand, grasped it, and pulled him to her side. He dropped a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m sorry I blew my top. I just hate them creeping up on us in the middle of the night. They’re the cowards, not us.”

“Tucker, don’t let them get your goat.” She hooked her arm in his and ran lightly with him over the snow and into the cabin. Falling into the rocker, she stuck her feet close to the hearth. Her toes were bright pink and stinging.

“Here, let me warm them.” Tucker sat on the hearth and held her feet in his lap. He massaged them in his warm, enveloping hands. “Sure you
want it to keep snowing? These toes of yours would disagree.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, tipping her head back and closing her eyes on a long, moody sigh. “I’m just not ready for spring yet.”

B
ehind the cabin ran a trench, a foot-deep scar in the earth carved by mountain run-off. In winter the depression was dry and filled with snow, but come spring it began to fill and in summer it flowed to the stream that snaked to the Elk River.

Standing beside the creek, Copper stared at the muddy bottom. Only a week ago snow had covered the bed. Now the snow had melted to make the ground soggy. A tiny trickle of water stood in the center of the creek bed. What had been anticipated since the beginning of winter now seemed ominous to Copper. She hitched Valor to a more comfortable perch on her hip.

“Spring,” she murmured, glancing up at the white and blue mountains—more blue than white on this bright May morning. It was likely that another snow would fall before winter blew itself out, but it was leaving. The air was nippy and sharp, not bone-chilling. The sun was warmer, higher. A week ago it had seemed closer to the horizon, its beams barely reaching the atmosphere to take the edge off the bitter wind.

“Spring,” she murmured again before turning away from the creek and the sadness it had created in her. Sentry, trotting along beside her, perked up his ears and whined. He looked south
and sniffed the prevailing breeze. “Someone’s coming?”

Patrol, off in the corral with Tucker, let go with a bellowing howl, triggering ferocious barking from Sentry. The black and white herder bounded for the woods. Copper trotted to the cabin and reached inside for a rifle. She lay Valor in the cradle and checked the shotgun to make sure both barrels were loaded. Valor yowled with outrage. Through the door, Copper spotted Tucker crouched behind a water barrel, the Hawken aimed at the break in the trees where Patrol and Sentry had disappeared into the woods. When she stuck the barrel of her shotgun through the hole in the side of the cabin, she saw him glance in her direction and nod, signaling that he’d seen her.

“Call off the dogs, Copper!” a man bellowed from the woods, his voice carrying easily above the hounds’ racket.

Recognizing the voice, Copper withdrew the shotgun barrel and stepped to the door. She gave an all-clear sign to Tucker and whistled for the dogs.

“What say you, Micah McCall!” she shouted. Moments later a big bay carrying Micah loped through the tree bank, followed by Rides In A Circle atop a handsome white mare with black socks.

Tucker stood from behind the water barrel and leaned on the Hawken. He waved halfheartedly at the visitors, then turned and went back to mucking out the stables.

“Don’t you dearly love drop-ins?” Micah asked, throwing back his head and laughing up at the clear sky. “Thought you were shed of me and my pregnant squaw, didn’t ya’?”

Copper glanced at Rides In A Circle and squelched her hostility toward the Lakota. “You and yours are always welcome here.”

They dismounted and Micah handed the reins
to Rides In A Circle. When he saw Copper’s raised brows, he shrugged.

“Ann likes to see to my needs. It makes her happy.”

Copper released a harsh laugh. “You’re telling that to the wrong woman, Micah. I know good and well that Indian women wait on their men not because it makes them happy, but because it keeps their men’s tempers on rein.” She motioned him inside. “But if Rides In A Circle chooses to tolerate your behavior, who am I to complain?”

“Her name is Ann now.”

Copper made a face. “More stupid behavior.”

Micah bristled. “I’m not stupid. Rides In A Circle is too big a mouthful.”

“So shorten it.”

“I did. I call her Ann.”

Copper noted the stubborn thrust of his jaw as she swung Valor out of the cradle and onto her hip. “And I call her Rides In A Circle,” she retorted, shaking the rattler to quiet her crying child. Valor sobbed, sniffed, and grabbed the rattler, which she promptly stuck in her mouth.

“Your baby is growing. She’s an alert little thing, isn’t she?” Micah stuck his face closer and laughed when Valor smiled at him. “I think she recognizes me!”

Copper felt the baby’s nappy. “Either that or she feels better after her bowel movement. I have to change her. What are you and Rides In A Circle doing out here today? Why didn’t you bring Gus with you?”

“We’re going to move closer to Fort Laramie.”

“Why?”

“Just until the baby comes and Ann is back on her feet. Then we’ll move on. I’m thinking I might hire out as a guide. Lots of wagon trains are looking for them. Nobody knows more about these mountains than me. I heard tell a man can make good wages that way.”

Copper, changing Valor’s napkin, looked around at Micah. “So you’re really going to stay with her? You’re not going to drop her off with the Lakota after the baby’s born?”

“I told you I’d do the right thing by her, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know exactly what you meant by that.” She turned back to Valor. “I’m glad you’re going to accept the child, Micah. Rides In A Circle seems to be eager to please you.”

“She can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes,” he said with a heavy sigh. “And she buttons her lip a lot when she doesn’t get her way. Gives me that stone-faced Indian look I just hate with a passion. But I do believe it’s my baby she carries and I’ve always wanted me a son.”

Copper swung the baby onto her hip again. “You won’t hold it against your son that he’s part Lakota?”

Micah turned the rocker, setting it in motion. “That can’t be helped, can it? Too late to worry about it. I suppose Jones made this rockin’ chair for you.”

“Yes. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” He stepped outside and cupped a hand at the side of his mouth. “Ann, what’s takin’ you so long? Quit jawin’ with Jones and get yourself in here!” He shook his head. “That woman likes talkin’ to men entirely too much. I’m going to have to break her of it.” He caught Copper’s wary look. “I don’t mean I’m going to beat her or anything. I’m only going to talk to her about how it ain’t right for a married woman to be so familiar with other men.”

Copper smiled. “You don’t have to worry about Tucker. He’s only being kind to her.”

“Like he’s being kind to you,” Micah drawled, unconvinced of Tucker’s good manners. “Well, it’s about time,” he grumbled, stepping back to let his
wife enter the cabin. “Say howdy and thanks for Copper’s hospitality.”

Rides In A Circle opened her mouth to speak, but Copper shook her head and turned away to put Valor in the lower bunk.

“No need for that.” She met the other woman’s eyes. “You and Micah are welcome here.” She swung her gaze to Micah. “And I’d appreciate it, Micah McCall, if you’d quit telling her what to say to me. She’s grown and can speak for herself.”

“It appears that Copper doesn’t approve of my treatment of you, Ann.” Micah chuckled. “I was going to ask you to bring in our bedrolls, but I suppose I’d best do it myself.”

“No, I will.” Rides In A Circle darted outside.

Micah shrugged. “I tried.”

Copper rolled her eyes. “That’s a Lakota for you. Dumb as a stump.” She smiled past him to Tucker. “There you are! Should we feed venison or rabbit to our guests?”

“Don’t go to any trouble on account of us,” Micah objected, looking curiously from Tucker to Copper. “We’ve got our own provisions.”

Copper heard the different, slower tempo of Micah’s voice and realized he sensed the change between her and Tucker. She tempered her smile. “Nonsense. We’ll have venison. I won’t have you eating your own grub in my home. Tucker, could you rustle up some turnips and onions for me? And fire the outside oven. I think I’ll stir up a batch of biscuits and maybe even a raisin pie.”

“Shoot! We’re not royalty.” Micah tweeked Copper’s cheek. “Don’t make such a fuss.”

“How long are you staying?”

“Just the night, then we’ve got to push on for Laramie.”

“Take off that coat and sit a spell. Tell me how Gus is doing. Did you stop by that squatter—Harlon Moss’ place? Is Floating Flower still there? Did they seem content?”

Tucker went outside, leaving Copper to catch up on news from her good friend. For his part, he tolerated McCall, but that was as good as it got for him.

“Here, let me help you,” Tucker said, taking a bedroll from beneath Ann’s arm.

“I can carry,” she said, but smiled her thanks. “You don’t like my husband.”

Tucker shrugged. “I don’t have to. I didn’t marry him.”

She giggled, hiding her smile behind a slim hand.

“Stash those things outside here and come dig potatoes and turnips with me.” He made a face at the closed door. “Let those two chatter like magpies about things and people you don’t give a hoot about.”

She giggled again, but dropped the bedroll and followed him to the back of the stables where Copper had built a vegetable mound out of dirt and hay. Tucker dug out the needed vegetables and dropped them into Ann’s gingham apron, held out from her body to make a pouch. Tucker noticed that she was dressed like a white woman in a blue, long-sleeved, high-necked blouse, long black shirt, and blue gingham apron. She wore boots instead of moccasins. But she was still clearly Lakota with her teak-colored skin, sloe eyes, and long, straight hair tamed into a single braid, the lower part of it wrapped in a piece of wide, blue cloth. McCall could throw away her leather, beaded shifts, and moccasins, but he could never remove the Indian from her. Never. Tucker’s gaze slipped to her stomach, and he wondered if McCall would really accept the child Ann was carrying.

“You’re headed for the fort?”

“Yes, until the baby comes.”

“That’s good. There are doctors there to look after you.”

“I’ll have no trouble.”

“Have you had other children?”

She shook her head. “But I’m big and strong. I’m built for child-carrying.”

He smiled. “It’s still good to be near doctors. Are you happy, Ann?”

She looked puzzled for a moment and then answered slowly, “Yes.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“I never thought about happy. I thought about safe. I’m safe with McCall. He is good at watching over me. He does not let anybody take what belongs to him. I belong to him.” She laughed when he dropped two more turnips into her apron. “Enough! We do not number so many!”