Pale Moon Stalker (The Nymph Trilogy) (34 page)

Fawn sighed dramatically, completely unaware of the silent exchange that would shape her future. "Well, after Sky and"—she paused and glanced over at the old medicine man—"Grandfather explained to me about white men's foolish customs, I decided it would not be a good idea for us to marry. But it is great fun to tease you," she confessed with a sly grin. Then her face became solemn once more. "Besides, it was you who told me that you would soon be too creaky with age to be a good warrior."

This time Sky laughed out loud. True Dreamer and Bronc joined in while Numbers began barking happily.

Max spilled the cup of coffee he was holding. "I was jesting about how soon I would creak, Fawn! It won't be—for at least a year or two," he quickly added when he realized he might just dig himself a deeper hole if he didn't remove his foot from his mouth and close it immediately.

"You're a quick-witted devil, m'lord," Sky murmured as she handed him her dirty dinner plate for washing. "I have first turn with the cattle. Have fun in the kitchen."

"You'll pay for your saucy insolence, m'lady," he called after her. Suddenly, he felt more certain she would not leave him...or was he only deceiving himself with wishful thinking during a moment of shared laughter.

* * * *

When they drove the herd into the small, impoverished Cheyenne village beside a stout log trading post, around seventy or eighty men, women and children came out to greet them, exclaiming joyously over Fawn's miraculous return. Although Max and Bronc could not understand their language, the sentiment was clear enough. One old woman wrapped her arms around the little girl and allowed tears to slide down her leathery cheeks. Several children around Fawn's age jumped up and down, crying out what must have been her name in their language.

A group of older men gathered around True Dreamer, gesturing to the cattle and the strangers who accompanied them. "I imagine he'll have quite a tale to tell before the day is done," Max said wryly.

"That ole feller could spin tales till all the snow melts on Pikes Peak. 'N not a man alive'd doubt a word he said," Bronc commented.

"You and he will both be heroes now," Sky said to Max.

Preoccupied, he looked past the crowd of Cheyenne to the large log building situated by a stand of cottonwood trees several hundred yards away. A tall, rangy man, slightly stooped with age, climbed down from the front steps with a wide smile on his face, raising his hand in a friendly salute to True Dreamer as he called out his name.

"My friend, Good Heart, I am happy to see you once more," the old Cheyenne said as the people around him parted to admit Clyde Campbell. The Indian agent wore a shaggy handlebar mustache and his curly gray hair hung to his shoulders. Clear brown eyes peered from beneath a set of thick dark eyebrows. When he spoke, the unmistakable burr of the Highlands was in his deep voice.

"I dinna ken how you could find the lass. I was a fool to doubt," he said, bending down to give Fawn a fatherly hug.

"We have so much to tell you, Mr. Campbell," she said excitedly.

"Aye, that I can see," he replied as he looked at the three strangers and the herd of cattle that had accompanied True Dreamer and Fawn home.

"I have returned your fine pony, Good Heart. I am sorry you were not here when I had to borrow it," True Dreamer said to the agent as he motioned to the gruella tied to the rear of the wagon.

"Dinna fash yourself, my friend. After I returned and was told Fawn had been kidnapped, I found your talisman in the stall. I ken why you had to take the beastie."

True Dreamer grunted. "I hoped you would think this."

"I have coffee on the stove at my post. Please, join us," Campbell offered Max, Sky and Bronc.

"We best get the beeves settled down first, Max," Bronc said, gesturing to a few patches of green alongside the small stream behind the trading post.

"I do believe he's right," Max said to the trader as he offered his hand with a wide smile. "We've struggled to get them here all the way from Fort Worth. Is it all right if we loose them by the water's edge?"

"Aye, that would be fine," the Scot replied as he shook Max's hand. "Are the cattle yours?"

"No, they're the property of this band of Cheyenne, courtesy of one Johnny Deuce, now deceased," Max replied.

Campbell chuckled. "For a Sassenach, you are a bray laddie, then."

"This is Pale Moon Stalker, the one I saw in my vision. He and his warrior-woman saved Fawn and returned our honor."

"Otherwise, I'm called Maxwell Stanhope and this is my wife, Sky. That tough old drover is Bronc Bodie."

"I am Clyde Campbell, the agent for the Cheyenne," he said, shaking hands with Bronc and bowing politely to Sky.

Within a quarter hour they had the cattle grazing peacefully. Fawn went with the women, disappearing inside a crudely patched teepee. True Dreamer spoke briefly with several of the leaders, but then joined Max, Sky and Bronc as they walked up to the post.

The agent's abode was a combination of general store, trading post and official place of business between the Bureau of Indian Affairs and the various Cheyenne bands living in the surrounding area. The place was dimly lit and disorganized. Shelves holding canned foods, bolts of cloth and blankets had many empty spaces. The pungent smell of tobacco filled the air, but fresh coffee wafted over it.

"As you see, the Great White Father in Washington could teach a Scot a bit aboot frugality," Campbell said sourly, offering his guests seats around a battered oak table in the small back room that served as his bachelor's kitchen.

"Good Heart does battle to get food and blankets for us, but it is hard to make greedy men give what we have been promised," True Dreamer said.

"Aye, but I am not done yet. Before winter, I will make another trip East." He handed a letter with the official seal of the Bureau of Indian Affairs on it to Max.

Skimming it quickly, Max said, "You've found a friend high on the pecking order. This should get your allotment on its way."

"But only if I have someone here to run the post while I am gone. I dinna ken who I could trust."

Max and Sky exchanged a glance before she said, "We would all vouch for Bronc to take care of this place—that is, if he's willing?" she added, looking at the white-haired old man.

"Think you could stand a winter this far north, old chap?" Max asked.

Bronc nodded. "Save me a long ride back to Texas. Not much work for a busted-up old drover anyways." He looked at Campbell to see if he was interested.

"Dinna fash yourself, Mr. Bodie. I would be happy to offer you a job—permanently, not just for a month or two. I am no the best housekeeper, as you may have noticed," he said with a wry grin. "Riding from village to village, dispensing what I have of food, blankets and medicine leaves little time for aught else. The pay isna much but there is a second bedroom and your meals would be part of the compensation."

"Sounds like a real fine deal. Onliest problem I see is understandin' what you're a saying half the time," Bronc replied, offering his hand, which the Scot shook enthusiastically.

Then Campbell asked, "Can you cook?"

Bronc shrugged. "I reckon I'm a passable trail cook. Good as some others I seen," he could not resist adding as he tipped his head toward Max.

"I managed not to poison any of you," Stanhope replied as the others laughed.

* * * *

That night the whole village celebrated Fawn's safe return. One young woman shyly offered Sky a well-worn but still beautiful deerskin tunic worked with quills and beads in intricate designs, explaining that it had been her grandmother's. Although Sky knew such a precious gift should remain with this impoverished family, she also knew that refusing it would be considered most ill-mannered.

She accepted it graciously and offered in return a necklace that Will had given her when they were first married. She'd carried it with her for the past bitter year. Perhaps it would bring happiness to her new friend that Sky herself had not found. With help from the other Cheyenne women, they plaited her hair in two long shiny braids, interlacing the black tresses with beads and bits of copper ornamentation.

Max, too, wore gifts from Fawn's grateful family. In exchange for the gold pocket watch he'd carried since arriving in America, he accepted a pair of butter-soft moccasins, a buckskin shirt and a beaded headband that gave him a wild, rakish appearance. He wondered if this was how Clint Daniels looked when he was Lightning Hand of the Sioux.

Along with Bronc, who had also exchanged gifts with their new friends, they took their place as guests of honor beside True Dreamer and Fawn. The drumming and dancing had just begun when Campbell came strolling toward the large bonfire, carrying something that glittered in the firelight.

"You returned my horse. I return your powerful medicine," he said gravely to True Dreamer, handing him a heavy brass medallion. It was ancient and engraved with strange pictographs that obviously were very important to the old Cheyenne.

True Dreamer accepted the necklace with equal gravity and placed it around his neck to words and nods of approval from the people. "The Powers have blessed us but have still more to give," he said, looking at Max and Sky.

In the firelight, his eyes seemed to glow as if he was receiving a whole new vision. Sky felt the hairs on her nape prickle. Looking over at her husband, she sensed that he, too, felt the same thing. But the old man said nothing further.

Fawn introduced her new friends to everyone. Sitting with the old women while the younger people danced, Sky learned that the little girl had lost her mother and father in a smallpox epidemic when she was four years old. Her only immediate kin was her mother's father, the great medicine man and one of the tribal elders. But she was surrounded by loving people who would care for her. Still, Sky hated to part with the child.

You only wish she were yours. You, who may never have children of your own.
She could not help looking across the flames to where Max sat with Campbell, Bronc and True Dreamer. What had the medicine man meant when he said the Powers had more to give them? She had no idea what would happen when they rode away the next day.

Someone from England still wanted them dead. Cletus? Or Bartlett? She was certain it was the solicitor, but until they found the answer, she and Max would be forced to stay together. As to what would happen once that riddle was solved, she had no idea.

Would McKerrish seek vengeance for his humiliation? She shivered, wondering if their mysterious Englishwoman would come to their aid, but somehow doubted it. Fawn interrupted her troubling reverie, sitting down beside her and giving her a hug.

"I will miss you very much, Sky. Will you and Stalker come to visit us one day?"

Sky somehow managed to smile reassuringly. "Yes, of course we will. And in the meanwhile, I will send books so you can continue your studies. Mr. Campbell will help you with them."

"That would be wonderful! Good Heart is a fine teacher, but he has only old newspapers and a few primers for those children who wish to learn about the white people. I want to study England," she added impishly.

"I'll send you a book of English history," Sky promised, hugging the child, missing her already.

When the fire began to die down and all the children were fast asleep, Max approached his wife, saying, "We've been given an honor by True Dreamer and the other tribal elders—their finest lodge to sleep in tonight. We couldn't refuse their hospitality, could we, love?"

Chapter Eighteen

"That old schemer won't give up, will he?" Sky said with a sigh. They had been so busy since arriving at the village, she'd given no thought to sleeping arrangements. Max shrugged, his face inscrutable by firelight as he bent down and offered her his hand. She almost refused, but realized they were being watched by many of the late revelers. Rather than fuel gossip and cause Fawn more worry when she heard it, Sky accepted his hand.

When they touched, a frisson of heat tingled down her arm and radiated through her body. It was one thing lying beneath the open skies with other people around, but quite different sleeping together in the privacy of an isolated lodge. Reading her thoughts, he said impatiently, "I won't fall on you and rip away that lovely tunic, Sky."

"You know it wouldn't be a matter of force, Max." She slipped her hand from his, afraid to look into his eyes as she walked beside him toward the shelter that might prove her undoing.
No, it won't!

After they'd passed a dozen or so lodges, the old woman who'd been the first to hug Fawn stepped in front of them. In broken English Bright Leaf held up a ceremonial cup decorated with brightly painted designs and said, "Good medicine to help sleep. Thank you from us...for Fawn."

Beaming with pleasure, she offered it to Sky. How could she refuse? Sky took the cup and sniffed the cool liquid. Its scent was slightly tangy, some herb she did not recognize.

Gingerly, she tasted. It was sweetened with honey. After taking several swallows, she tried to hand it back, but Bright Leaf shook her head.

"Now your man drink. You give?" She made a gesture indicating that Sky should hold it for Max.

"A love potion?" he murmured, taking a sip.