Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) (22 page)

I glanced again at Leaning Bear, then back to her and her frown deepened. Ah, so she had her heart set on him and now I was in the way. If only she knew how happy I’d be to see him shift his attention to her and leave me out of it.

“Each of us wanted to be the first to catch a rabbit and bring it back for dinner. I was in the lead as we ran around a rock.”

He paused and used the moment to grin and waggle his eyebrows. From the corner of my eye I saw Emmett wipe his hands down the length of his thighs. He had to be nervous. How could he compete with a favorite story told by one of the clan’s favorite sons? I realized I’d given him an impossible task. Had I misjudged? My goal had been to even the playing field and avoid a physical fight where Emmett would be at a disadvantage because of his injuries. Now I wondered if my choice had been a mistake.

I reached over and gave Emmett’s hand a quick squeeze. I couldn’t help a brief glance at the girl who’d been watching me. She looked down at my hand on Emmett’s, then back up at me, and smiled, understanding passing between us.

“My eyes were on the rabbit so I didn’t see the bear leaning on the tree, scratching his back, until I ran into his belly and bounced backwards into Gray Skunk and Youngbird.”

The crowd roared with laughter. I couldn’t help snickering, myself. I imagined Leaning Bear at ten or eleven, doing such a harmless young boy thing as chasing bunnies, rounding a corner entirely unaware and literally running head on into a big bear, minding its own business. They must have both been taken aback.

Emmett tensed next to me, which caused me to tense. I’d been caught up in the story, forgetting the consequences. What would my life be like as part of the clan? Yellow Hair Woman seemed content. She’d said if given a choice she’d never go back to the white world. These people had been warm, kind, and generous with us, but I still felt like an outsider and I couldn’t imagine becoming one of them, much less marrying Leaning Bear.

He had an easy smile, and despite his reputation as a feared warrior, he clearly had no problem telling stories that invited people to laugh at his mistakes. In fact, his very name was based on a humbling childhood event. He was the kind of man who embraced and lived beyond those stories. I admired that, but not enough to want him as my husband. I would happily call him friend, but when I imagined him kissing me the way Emmett had kissed me, my body had no reaction. There was no heat or eagerness; none of the tingling anticipation of Emmett’s touch.

I tried to swallow past the dry lump in my throat as Leaning Bear slid a triumphant glance in my direction and past me to Emmett.

Once the laughter died down enough, Leaning Bear continued. “The bear was so surprised by a boy launching himself into his belly that he just stared at me. I thought for a moment he looked offended that I’d interrupted his satisfying scratch.”

More snickers encouraged him to finish. “We didn’t wait for him to get angry with me. Instead we gave up on rabbit for supper and ran back to camp.”

“Not before he bowed and apologized,” a man called from the back. I had to assume he was either Gray Skunk or Youngbird. His interjection earned another round of laughter.

Leaning Bear bowed for the crowd as if to demonstrate. “Youngbird and Gray Skunk, of course, shared the story with all the hunters, and that’s how I earned my name.”

Cheers went up and the audience clapped and pounded the ground to show their appreciation. Four Bears held up his hands to get their attention.

“That is always a good story, Leaning Bear. Thank you for sharing it with us.” At that moment, all eyes in the room turned to Emmett, including Four Bears. “Hole in his Side, what story do you have to share with us?”

Emmett folded his hands in his lap and scanned his audience, making eye contact with everyone as he did. To look at him, I’d think he enjoyed storytelling as much as Leaning Bear, but his muscles tensed against my leg, and when I glanced down at his hands, he squeezed them together so tight that the knuckles had turned white. So he didn’t enjoy it, or maybe the stakes had his nerves strung tight.

He cleared his throat before speaking, and as he did, Yellow Hair Woman translated for the audience. “A long time ago, a young woman named Red Face lived far away with her clan. They were all women: a healer, a mother, a trickster, and Red Face, a storyteller.”

My face flushed hot, reinforcing my name. A murmur went through the crowd as they all looked at me then back to Emmett. Their approval was evident from their nods and smiles that he’d chosen to tell a story about me in order to win me. Emmett sat up straighter next to me, a bit more confident in his choice.

“Everyone loved her, but her heart was so big she spent all her time caring for others and didn’t see how much they all loved her in return.”

I thought of Beth, Daisy, and Nellie, and I missed them and what our lives had been. I did love them.

“One day, her brother sent a crow to her with a message that her mother was ill, and asked for her to visit. Red Face, being a good daughter with a loving heart, hurried to her mother’s side. But her brother had turned himself into a wolf and eaten their mother, and waited for Red Face so he could eat her too.”

The people were quiet, their eyes wide, waiting to find out what happened next. I recognized the story of Red Riding Hood in Emmett’s version of my life. But the Indians didn’t know the Grimm fairy tale, and that it was meant for children. It was clever that he’d given it an Indian turn with the transforming animals. It seemed as if the breath the audience held was fat with expectation.

“She walked through the woods to her mother’s house, listening to the little birds singing sweetly, and picking pretty flowers for her mother. When she went inside her mother’s house, she saw her sleeping in bed and thought she looked strange. ‘Mother, what big ears you have,’ she said. ‘All the better to hear you with,’ her mother said.”

Some of the people nodded, others made
tsking
sounds at the evil wolf. I had to hide a smile.

Emmett continued, “‘Mother, what big eyes you, have,’ she said, and her mother replied, ‘all the better to see you with, my dear.” By now he had added a high pitched voice for me and a gravely older woman’s voice for the Mother. The people watched Emmett, engrossed in the story as if they understood his every word even without Yellow Hair Woman’s translation. “‘But Mother, what big hands you have,’ Red Face said. ‘All the better to hug you with,’ her mother said and reached for Red Face, but Red Face backed away and said, ‘Oh, Mother what big teeth you have,’ and Mother grinned with a mouth full of wolf teeth and said, ‘All the better to eat you with,’ and lunged for Red Face.”

The audience gasped.

“The crow had been worried about Red Face and followed her on her journey. When the wolf tried to eat Red Face, the crow flew in the window and pecked the wolf and flapped his wings about the wolf’s head and chased him outside. Red Face closed the door behind the wolf, but the wolf was angry he’d been cheated out of his meal, so he circled the house looking for a way in. He finally climbed to the roof, thinking he could fool Red Face by sliding down the chimney into the house.”

I glanced sideways at Emmett. In my recollection the story of Red Riding Hood had ended differently. Was he confused?

“‘Red Face,’ the wolf called. ‘I will eat you and your crow friend.’ The crow turned himself into a man, and Red Face was afraid, but the man told her, ‘don’t be afraid. I’m here to save you. I’ll keep the wolf busy on the roof. You go draw water from the well and pour it in the pot on the hearth.’ Red Face saw there was still meat in the pot and she understood what the man had in mind.”

I sensed Emmett had veered into the story of the Three Little Pigs, and couldn’t imagine such simple children’s stories could win this contest. I only hoped he knew what he was doing.

“Red Face filled the pot and the wolf liked the smell so much he stretched his neck far over the chimney to sniff the meat and slipped and fell down into the pot and drowned.”

Emmett stopped as if he had finished, but everyone watched him, waiting for more. Yellow Hair Woman prompted him. “What happened to them?”

“Oh, after the wolf was dead, Red Face put her hand in the man’s and took him home to her clan. They welcomed her back, and welcomed the man into their family, and Red Face understood that it was okay to allow other people to love her, too.”

The audience clapped and pounded the floor, and murmured their approval. The stories had been completely different, but the response sounded, to me, just as enthusiastic. These were a people who appreciated all kinds of stories, and in that way, they weren’t so different from me and my students and, when I thought about it, people everywhere.

Once again, Four Bears held his hands up for silence. When he got it, he said, “We have been lucky tonight to hear two very good stories. Leaning Bear, your stories always leave us satisfied, and the story of how you got your name is especially a favorite.”

The spectators whooped with pleasure and my stomach dropped. So Leaning Bear had won.

“But tonight we were treated with a new story,” Four Bears said. “Hole in his Side, you are a clever storyteller. Leaning Bear made us laugh, but you made us think.”

I held my breath and watched Four Bears. It sounded as if he liked Emmett’s story better, and that it should win. The crowd nodded, and the noises they made sounded positive, but it wasn’t the roaring approval Leaning Bear received.

Four Bears dipped his head, acknowledging their reaction, and I closed my eyes waiting for the verdict. I wondered how I’d fit in, and how I’d say goodbye to Emmett.

“Hole in his Side,” Four Bears said, “Your story was a valuable gift, and is worthy of the prize.”

My eyes popped open. Emmett had won. I slumped in relief. My heart thrummed inside my chest, and I had to concentrate on slow breathing to calm it. Dear God, that had been too close.

I glanced across at Leaning Bear. His furrowed brow implied how much he disliked losing, but a hint of respect in his eyes suggested he’d enjoyed Emmett’s story.

Four Bears retrieved a pipe from the pouch at his waist, packed it with tobacco, and lit it using a stick lit from the fire. He puffed on it, then passed it to Leaning Bear who took a long draw, then handed it across the way to Emmett.

Emmett looked somewhere between needing to be sick, and a proud new father, but he took his turn with the pipe and handed it back to Four Bears.

“We’ve given you the gift of saving your life twice, Hole in his Side, first when Leaning Bear took you from the cave, and second when Little Feathers healed you, and you’ve given us the gift of a new story. We’ve smoked together, we’ve shared a feast together. You may take your wife to your lodge.”

“Wait. What?” Emmett asked.

Breath somehow wouldn’t enter my lungs.

“As is our custom, we have exchanged gifts, smoked, and feasted. You are married.”

Lydia sputtered and tried to express her distress, but between the excitement over the competition, and the celebratory atmosphere over the marriage of their special guests, nobody but I noticed her objections. In the midst of the crowd was no place to deal with them.

They ushered us to a lodge set up temporarily, just for us. I suspected it had been set up by Four Bears and Leaning Bear, both of whom had engineered it as part of their project to marry Lydia to Leaning Bear. I was more than happy to put a stop to it, but Lydia didn’t seem nearly as glad of the outcome. Part of me was put out that I’d done exactly what she needed me to do—save her from marrying Leaning Bear and end up trapped here against her wishes—yet she didn’t seem pleased about it.

Once we were escorted to our lodge amidst all the well-wishers, we ducked inside and Lydia turned on me.

“Don’t for an instant think I’m acknowledging this as a legitimate marriage,” she said, pointing a warning finger at me.

Her determined protests set me on edge. I’d literally risked my life at her behest, and all she could do was berate me for it.

“Is the thought of being married to me really so repulsive?” I asked, turning to stoke the little fire pit someone had been thoughtful enough to prepare for us.