Lakota Honor (10 page)

She shook her head and focused on the task at hand. She forced her hand back to Savage's fur, moving it soothingly over his coat. A growl rumbled from his chest, but he didn't move, and she exhaled.

"Okay, boy, I'm going to wrap the sack around you and lift."

Savage gave a high pitched whine, and Nora's heart broke. He was in pain and until she got him into the cabin to examine his wounds there was nothing she could do to help him. She wiggled the fingers on her uninjured hand. The need was there, both hands pulsed and heated.

The process of lifting the dog so she could slide the sack underneath him took forever, and she was sweating by the time she was finished. Blood flowed from wounds she couldn't see because of his fur. She didn't know where to place her hands so she wouldn't hurt him. Her finger hurt like hell and she needed to stop the bleeding. She ripped a piece of the fabric from the hem of her apron and bound the finger, using her teeth to tie it tight. She winced as the last knot was made and her finger was bandaged.

She peeked at the dog. "Here we go."

She shoved her hands underneath his belly before lifting him from the ground. She hadn't realized how heavy he was, and she took two quick breaths before hastily walking toward the cabin.

She laid Savage on her bedroom floor. The animal whimpered. She struck a match and lit the lamp on the table. When she lifted the sack from him, she couldn't believe what she saw. He'd been beaten with a stick or a leather rope. Pieces of his fur were missing from where he'd been cut. Slash marks sprawled across his back and under to his belly. She swallowed. The poor thing, he'd never had a chance.

Damn you, Elwood.
She'd always known the man was cruel, but this was far too disgusting for any human to do. Savage had always been mean and it was as she'd suspected, someone made him that way.

The shaking began in her hands, relentless and unstoppable. She didn't know where to start, there were so many cuts. The white cotton wrapped around her finger stuck out as she laid her hand over Savage's black fur.

"Okay, boy, let's start slow."

One hot hand crept with ease over the longest cut. She closed her eyes, allowing his pain to encompass her body as the aching in her ribs and right side intensified. She drew in a quivering breath as she dragged her hand along the rest of the wound.

Savage moaned.

She was able to heal two more gashes before her stomach rolled and she puked in the bucket beside her. She wiped her mouth with her forearm and swept the braid back over her shoulder. The poor pup. While healing his wounds, she'd felt his pain. She rubbed her right side and inspected him. There were still so many.

A lock of hair fell in her face and she tucked it behind her ear. She'd heal the deep cuts first and then make a poultice for the others. She thought of Otakatay. The scars she'd seen on his neck and arms appeared similar to the ones Savage bore.
He'd been beaten.

"Oh, dear God."

What had he been through? Who would do such a thing? Elwood's face shot across her mind and she scowled. He'd beaten his dog. She always knew he was a louse and this confirmed it. After a few long minutes of inspecting Savage's wounds, she knew which ones needed healing fast and which ones could be bandaged. She laid her hands over the cut feeling the skin close underneath. A burning sensation sliced across her back and around to her stomach. She arched and sucked in a hissing breath.

She healed four more wounds, but before she was done the last one, her stomach heaved and she threw up all over herself. It seemed like an eternity before she was able to bring her head up from the bucket. Spasms sliced through her middle, and damp hair clung to her temples. Her finger throbbed. She was so weak that instead of emptying the bucket or gathering bandages, she laid her head on the floor and closed her eyes. Savage placed his nose beside hers and they fell asleep.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Otakatay heard the branches break, and listened to the uneven melody hum throughout the forest. He patted the knife tied to his leg and flexed his back, feeling the leather casing shift slightly. The wasichu didn't care about their heavy feet. They didn't care about anyone other than themselves. Their arrogance and ignorance was what he hated most about them. He ground his teeth together and leaned against a tall pine to wait.

The wasichu stepped through the trees and came toward him. He didn't bother to conceal his disgust for the man who had hired him. They both had a purpose for using the other and once he was done, he'd kill the white eyes.

One more kill.
He shook his head. The reminder called to him, taunting and sinful, while evil fingers pressed along his consciousness squeezing out the last of his reason. Would the nightmares cease after he killed the last one? Would he forget the softness of their skin while he clutched them close, or the sound of his blade cutting their throats? He tensed. Visions of thick scarlet covered his hand, hot and sticky. No cry. No whimper. Silence—a quiet he will always hear—a stillness that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

The killer inside of him mocked him for letting the girl go. He heard the sneer, the laughter, the growl for blood. And he'd saved her, even if for one day. He pushed her from him. The need to finish what he'd started to fulfill his promise crawled over him, biting at his reason. When he closed his eyes, he saw the mark and the face that went with it.

"Have you found any more?" The wasichu's voice brought him back to the conversation and the task at hand.

Tall and lean, the wasichu stood a few feet from Otakatay and he wondered why the white man hired him to kill these women. He never believed they were witches, as he'd been told. But for some reason unbeknownst to him, the man was obsessed. The women consumed him, and each time they met he pressed Otakatay for more.

"There are none." He thought of the girl, Nora, and decided to keep the information to himself.

The wasichu eyed him and murmured, "I have someone I want you to follow."

"I do not follow anyone."

"She may have the mark. I need you to be sure." He smiled. "And then I need you to kill her."

There was someone else? Why he felt relief that it wasn't the girl, that it wasn't Nora, he didn't know, and he brushed the reprieve aside.

"Where is this one?"

"She lives behind the blacksmith's shop in a cabin with her drunk of a father."

He froze.
Ina.
He struggled to stay with their conversation as a rush of emotions crashed down upon him. He couldn't draw air into his lungs. His chest ached. Ina—mangled and bloody, his brother, broken and frail and he could do nothing. He dropped his head, and inhaled slow and steady before he said in a low growl, "Fifty dollars is the price for this scalp." He was done. No more killing. He would fulfill his promise.

"Damn it. That's too much." The wasichu took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. "I will pay the regular fee."

"No." Otakatay pulled his knife from his back and took a step toward him. "You pay what I want. Nothing less."

"Are you going to kill me, Savage? Out here in broad daylight?"

Otakatay sprung forward, pushing the wasichu up against a tree. With his forearm against the man's throat, he dragged the blade of the knife along the whiskers on his cheek.

"Today I am feeling generous." He smiled. "How do you prefer to die? A slice across the neck so you bleed out slowly, or punctured in the stomach and gutted?" He pressed the blade into the wasichu's flesh, cutting him.

Blood dripped down his cheek and the wasichu's Adam's apple worked up and down. "Fine, fine. I will pay the fifty."

He reached into the man's front pocket and pulled out two bills. "I will take half now." He shoved the weasel from him and walked toward Wakina.

"You will kill her, if she has the mark, right?" he asked, while rubbing his neck.

"It will be done."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A knock at the door woke Nora. She'd fallen asleep on the floor, and the uneven boards did nothing for her aching muscles. She rolled over, feeling the ridges of the wood dig into her skin. Every joint screamed in agony.

She wanted to crawl into bed and sink into the covers for the rest of the day. Savage was still where she'd left him last night, resting on the blood-stained burlap sack. She could tell by the even rise and fall of his chest, he was out. Slowly, and with great care for her sore back, she stood and stretched before going to see who was at the door.

She'd look at Savage's wounds this afternoon. They needed to stay clean, lest infection set in. The sun peeked through the window, bright and welcome. She didn't hear father come home last night and wondered if he'd gone to work this morning. The rumpled cushions on the sofa and the pale blue blanket piled in the corner told her he'd been here, but there was no sign of him now.

Even after they reconciled yesterday, he still wanted nothing to do with her. A razor sharp spasm slashed across her middle. She bent over and tried to draw in air that wasn't paired with pain. She was helpless
to the way her body dealt with Pa's rejection. Another knock. She tucked her mangled insides away and opened the door.

"Mornin'," Jess said, "Damn, girl, you look like hell." A worn Stetson sat lopsided on her head, and a broad smile spread across her face.

Nora hadn't realized how terrible she looked until Jess had mentioned it. She glanced down, shocked to see the blood from last night still smeared across her apron and along her arms and hands. She'd fallen asleep and forgot to change. She lifted a hand to try and fix the stray hairs that had fallen from her braid, but she gave up and stepped aside.

"Please, come in."

Jess smiled and sauntered past to plop down in one of the two chairs at the table.

"Shit. Were you butchering a pig? Why in hell are ya covered in blood?"

The older woman's crassness was something she wasn't used to, but for all the spit and fire she was, Jess Chandler was indeed a kind hearted soul.

Nora sat across from her. "I rescued Elwood's dog, Savage. The bastard beat the animal just short of killing him."

Savage still had a long way to go until he recovered, but Nora had healed the worst of his wounds, the ones that would've killed him. She stretched her hands out on top of the table. The sleep had helped her to recuperate after healing the deep cuts, but it made her violently ill and very weak. Even now she still didn't feel up to grade.

Jess's eyes narrowed. "You be careful around that damn mutt. He's vicious and will kill if provoked."

She shook her head. "He's been mistreated."

Jess pointed to Nora's bandaged finger. "Where did ya get that?"

"He was scared and hurt. The animal was protecting himself. He's fine now."

The woman raised her thick eyebrows.

"Honest, he won't hurt me."

Jess took off her hat and placed it on the table. Her silver blonde hair was in a neat bun, and Nora noticed for the first time how pretty she was.

"Well, you better let me have a look." She held out her hand, and Nora laid her finger on the table. "That no good scalawag Elwood Calhoun is pure evil." She pointed her finger at Nora. "Probably could use a few stitches."

She winced.

"Pour a little whiskey on it and bandage it good. You don't want an infection."

She nodded.

"Listen here, girl. You'd be wise to stay away from Elwood."

"Oh, I can assure you that I plan to stay far away." She glanced at the doorway where Savage lay. "But he insists on courting me, even though I've refused several times."

"Well, to hell with him." Jess swatted the air and pulled a gun from the holster around her waist. "You point this in his direction, and I'll damn well guarantee that louse will be a runnin'." She slid the Colt .45 across the table and winked.

Nora didn't like guns. They scared her something fierce. But she saw her friend's point. If Elwood came by, she needed to protect herself and there was no better way than with a loaded gun. She ran her hand along the cool barrel and wrapped her fingers around the ivory handle. The gun was heavier than she expected, and she laid it back down on the table with a loud thud.

"Is it loaded?"

"Sure as hell is. Doesn't hold much use if'n it ain't." Jess paused. "You ever shoot one before?"

She shook her head.

Within the confines of the cabin, she learned how to load, cock and fire the gun. Nora placed the loaded weapon up in the cupboard.

"Time's a wastin' with that finger of yours. Get on over here so I can clean it up."

Nora sat across from her and watched Jess pull a silver flask from her pocket.

"What's that?"

"Whiskey."

Without another word, Jess poured the potent stuff all over Nora's finger.

"Hell and tarnation." She placed her head on the table and groaned.

"Ah shit, girl, you're tougher than that. I'm afraid you're in need of some sewin'." She doused the needle and thread with whiskey before taking Nora's hand and poking the skin.

Nora bit her lower lip and hummed. The sharp needle pricked her skin again, and she tensed.

"Almost done."

She hissed as the last stitch went through.

"Good as gold." Jess patted her hand.

Relieved the finger was bandaged and she'd never have to feel the fire from the whiskey on it again, she excused herself to change into a clean dress and apron.

"How long have you lived here, Jess?" she asked while pouring two cups of coffee.

"My husband Marcus and I bought our land ten years ago."

She saw the far off look in Jess's eyes and knew the woman was thinking of the past. Unsure if she should pry, she waited patiently for her friend to continue.

"Marcus wanted to be a farmer. And he was good at it, too. We had a few hundred acres back in Wyoming but lost everything from years of drought. We packed up and traveled around the country for a while. We buried two babies on those trails."

Nora placed her hand over Jess's. "I am so sorry."

"Ahh hell, it's in the past. Ain't nothin' nobody can do. After the disappointment and heartbreak, we decided not to try for any more children." She smiled sadly.

"We found Willow Creek and liked it here. I wanted to stay in town and work until we had enough of our own money to buy land, but Marcus was dead set on finding land first. And once Elwood had sunk his rotten teeth in, offering land and the money to loan us, Marcus signed the papers without even asking me." She took a long drink of coffee before she continued. "Four years later, my husband is shot out in the field and no one knows who did it."

"Why would someone kill, Marcus?"

"Money brings people to do things, horrible things."

Nora couldn't imagine losing a husband. The pain, the anguish Jess must have felt tore at her heart.

"Marcus found oil, and within two days of hearing it, Elwood was there willing to forget the money we owed him if we gave back the land. Marcus refused, and the next day he was found shot up in the east quarter of our spread. A week after I buried him, Elwood brought in his men to drain the oil. They didn't leave a drop. He's determined there's more on the land, but I won't let him near it. Between myself and the few cowhands I have left we protect what Marcus fought hard to keep."

"Oh, Jess, that's terrible."

"I get by. Marcus wouldn't want me to lie around and weep. I'm tougher than that. Hell, I'm made out of nails and I'll fight for what's mine."

"Your Marcus sounds like a fine fellow."

"He was, dear. He was."

She poured more coffee and enjoyed their conversation. The woman she'd come upon in the field weeks before had become her friend and she was thankful.

After Jess left, Nora went to check on Savage. The name irritated her, and every time it left her mouth she felt dirty. She thought of Otakatay and how he'd been mistreated. How he'd been called names and shunned by his people. It didn't matter to them that he was half white, when they stared at him all they saw was red. She was disgusted and ashamed to be a part of a race that was so cruel.

She ran her hand along Savage's black coat.

"Savage is for something wild or ferocious, and you, dear friend, are neither. I will call you Pal."

She smiled, satisfied with the name and the meaning it held. Nora inspected his wounds, a yellow crust had formed around the cuts. She needed to draw out the puss. She hurried into the garden and rummaged through the sparse rows. She scooped up the last cabbage, went into the house and boiled it.

On her knees, she placed the warm cabbage over Pal's cuts, breaking off bits to feed to him as well. There was no trace of meanness in him now. He put his head on her lap and nuzzled his nose into her hand. He was a good dog, part wolf, which made him intimidating, but she knew he'd never harm her again.

It was late afternoon when she'd gotten around to making bread, and she could now smell the mouth watering aroma throughout her kitchen. Pal had limped out of her bedroom to lay by the warm stove. She smiled and ruffled his fur when she heard Joe call her name from outside.

She opened the door and was greeted by a very happy Joe and the hotel's maid, June.

"Good afternoon, Miss Rushton," June spoke with clipped English in which every word was enunciated.

"Hello, Nora. Hello," Joe called from beside June.

"Hello, Joe." Nora laughed.

"Miss Rushton, I promised Joe I'd walk him over to visit with you. He's been wanting to see you for some time now."

"I'd love to visit with him. I can walk him to the hotel before supper." She moved to the side so Joe could shuffle in.

"That is most kind of you. His father sits down to dinner at six."

"Very well. He will be there by then."

June nodded and turned to leave. "Miss Rushton," she called, before Nora closed the door.

"Please, call me Nora."

"Nora, you can bring Joe to the back door by the kitchen. Mr. Calhoun never comes that way."

She eyed the maid. She'd never really talked to her, but June was aware of Elwood's infatuation with her and Nora was glad for the suggestion.

"Thank you."

She closed the door, turned and bumped right into Joe. His wide eyes gaped at the dog. Fear etched across his face, and his eyelids started to flutter.

"Joe." She touched his arm. "Joe, Savage is a good dog. He won't hurt you."

He shook his head from side to side and his bangs blew from his forehead.

"Let's sit you down." She walked him to a chair and eased him into it. "Savage was hurt real bad, and I brought him back here to help him get better."

"He's a bad dog. Bad dog."

"No, Joe, he's a scared dog. Someone mistreated him."

He peered into her eyes, and she saw something familiar within the blue depths. "Pa is mean to him. Mean to him."

"Yes, I know. I've fixed him up and he's on the mend."

Joe stood and went to the dog. He slid down the wooden sticks he used to walk, and sat beside the animal. "Poor puppy, poor puppy."

She knelt beside him. "Yes, he's been through a lot."

"Savage, Savage," he sang while playing with his fur.

"Joe, he's not a mean dog anymore, and therefore he needs a nice name, don't you think?"

"Yes, yes." He clapped his hands.

"I like the name,
Pal
."

She'd already named him, but she wanted Joe to take part.

Joe mouthed the words a few times before he said, "Pal, Pal. I like it!"

Nora laughed. The boy had nestled himself deep within her heart, and she cared for him like the little brother she never had.