Untamed (22 page)

'I think," he said, extending his hand, "that we got ourselves a deal."

Laughing with him, she said, "Get your horse saddled up. I'm going to go get my buffalo."

"Your what?"

"My buffalo, Sweetpea. She's the surprise I was telling you about, the one that's going to get us started in the ranching business."

Caleb scratched his head. "You can't start a cattle ranch with a buffalo."

"Oh, yeah? Who says I can't?"

"I do, for one," said a third voice.

Josie turned to see Daniel leaning against the open door of the barn. All the tenderness she'd felt for him earlier vanished. "And I say you're dead wrong. That buffalo is going with me and that's that."

He strolled down the aisle toward them, his leg so well-mended, his limp was even less noticeable than Caleb's.

"Even if you figure out a way to herd that animal," Daniel went on to say, "and I don't think you can with that buffalo slowing you down, you'll never make it back to Miles City before the next storm hits."

"Take another look outside," Josie said with a laugh. She'd been pleased to encounter the sun when she stepped from the cabin that morning, even though a few clouds lingered over the mountaintops like clusters of fat sheep. "The weather has warmed up so much the snow is beginning to melt."

"I noticed." Daniel paused a moment to rub the buckskin's nose. "Unless this is your first winter in Montana, I think you already know how fast the weather can change in these parts. You'll be taking enough of a chance just trying to get yourselves back to Miles City before the next storm hits."

He had a point, but Josie wasn't about to concede it or Sweetpea to him. "It can also stay nice and warm for a couple of weeks or more. I'll take my chances."

Daniel turned to give her a particularly pointed look. "Long Belly says he heard some white owls calling last night. It sure as hell wasn't the sun that chased them out of the Arctic this early. Leave that buffalo here. I'll see that she's well taken care of."

Josie hated to admit that Daniel was right, but in this case, he was. Even then she stubbornly went out to the corral and made a feeble attempt at fashioning a halter for Sweetpea in hopes of leading her away from the cabin. The minute the buffalo saw the rope, she panicked and nearly ran Josie down. There didn't seem to be any way to justify the risk of taking the beast back to Miles City at her own, unpredictable pace, not with the weather every bit as unstable.

In the end, since she and Caleb were not welcome at the cabin any longer, Josie had no choice but to head back to town, leaving Sweetpea behind. She did so vowing to her and to everyone in earshot that she would be back come spring to claim what was rightfully hers.

Josie was not, however, a fool.

She knew that if she waited until spring to return, her hope for the future would be long gone. In fact, she was quite certain that the minute she rode out of sight this morning, Long Belly would be making plans to transport Sweetpea to the Cheyenne camp. She didn't know as yet how she would prevent this from happening, but she got to work on a scheme the minute she mounted the little brown mare.

The ride between the cabin and the Saint Labre Indian Mission was only about ten miles, but thanks to the heavy snowfall and drifts in some places as high as their mounts' withers, it took them a good four hours to cover the distance. Daniel, who had business at the mission, led the way aboard The Black. Caleb and his mount brought up the rear, with Josie sandwiched between the two, her mind working every bit as hard as the mare's slender legs.

Early on in the ride she came up with a reckless plan that would keep Sweetpea by her side and to some extent ensure that she would retain ownership of the animal. Josie dismissed this insane idea time and time again in hopes of finding a less volatile, more viable alternative. By the time they reached the banks of the Tongue River and the long, rustic cabin that served as the mission, there didn't seem to be another choice.

She would go ahead with the daring plan, even though it was risky in ways Josie didn't want to think about. She would not only go ahead with it, but she would see the crazy scheme through to the finish, come hell or high water.

In fact, an entire herd of wild buffalos couldn't have stopped her.

Chapter 14

Christmas preparations were under way when Daniel and his little group arrived at the Saint Labre Mission. There were two buildings on the property—the mission itself, a long three-room log cabin with a huge wooden cross rising from the roof, and a two-story structure known as 'the White House.' It served as convent for the Ursuline Sisters, who ran the school, housed classrooms and the girl's dormitory, and also supplied a small chapel for daily worship. Sister Ignatius McFarland was passing between the two buildings, carrying a miniature manger complete with crib, as Daniel rode up.

"Hello," she called, her long black habit flapping in the wind. "With that broken leg of yours and all this bad weather, I was worried we wouldn't see you again until spring."

Daniel swung down off The Black, careful not to land on his bad leg, and then tore off his hat and canted his head. "I couldn't wait until spring to see you again, Sister Iggy," he said, using his pet name for her. "I'd have crawled through a blizzard long before then if I had to, just to see your pretty face again."

She chuckled, her round little cheeks crimson against the stark white coif of her habit, and then turned to his companions. "Why, it's Mr. Baum, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Caleb said, dismounting. "I found the agent's cabin just where you said it'd be."

As Josie climbed down off the mare, the nun greeted her. "And you must be Mr. Baum's sister."

"That's right," she said, shaking her hand. "Josie's the name."

"I'm Sister Ignatius. Please, come to the White House with me, everyone. We were just about to sit down to hot chocolate and sandwiches."

"The rest of you go ahead." Daniel fitted his hat to his head. "I have some business to go over with Father van der Velden. Is he at the mission?"

She nodded. "I believe he's in the kitchen with some sickly boys who just arrived."

Daniel beaded toward the log cabin, wishing there were at least three of Father Aloysius van der Velden, a Dutch Jesuit who not only offered the Cheyenne religious and educational instructions, but medical knowledge and pure unbigoted friendship. If there was a fault in the man or the mission system, it was the fact that he tried so hard to convert the Indians to Catholicism when they already had their own belief in God and their own religion, which was a part of their daily lives. Another problem was that the Cheyenne saw themselves as extensions of nature and related to it spiritually, which sometimes looked like pagan ritual to Christians. Daniel found those ceremonies no more primitive than the rituals Father van der Velden performed at the mission—especially when he went around swinging a smoke pot or sprinkling holy water on everyone who got in his way.

As rustic on the inside as it was on the outside, the cabin had no doors or partitions separating its three distinct sections, but each had a clear purpose. The smallest room was the rectory or priests' quarters; the middle, formerly the classroom, was now the boys' dorm; and the largest formed a combination kitchen and dining room. It was in this largest section that Daniel found the Jesuit, who was serving bowls of soup to two young, pale-faced Cheyenne boys.

Father van der Velden looked up as Daniel stepped into the room. "Ah, if it isn't our awkward Indian agent. How is your leg doing?"

"Fine," he grumbled, anxious to move to another topic. "Has the government sent more supplies yet? We could sure use a fresh load at Lame Deer."

"We got some flour and a few more staples, but I'm afraid they didn't send money for meat this time. We barely have enough for us to survive at the mission this winter."

Daniel nodded, even though the priest's back was to him. "Just like last winter, huh?"

Father van der Velden looked away from the soup pot and turned to Daniel with a rare frown. Blue-eyed and fair-haired, the priest usually had a smile and a kind word, no matter the subject. "I'm afraid so, but also like last winter, we expect the Lord will provide."

Not much Daniel could say to that except, "Well, I'm sure the tribe will appreciate the flour and staples. I wrote another letter to the agency. Who knows, maybe they will provide this time and the Lord can take this winter off."

"We can hope." The priest returned to the soup pot and began filling a couple of bowls. "I could use a little fresh air. Why don't you join me outside for a stroll as soon as I have these boys settled in with their meal?"

A walk didn't sound particularly good to Daniel, not with the dull ache pounding in his shin, but he sensed the clergyman wanted a little privacy for the rest of their discussion. When the soup had been served, he followed van der Velden back to the grounds, a hundred and sixty acres of good farmland that was not officially part of the Cheyenne reservation.

With the mission so far away, it meant that members of the tribe had to travel upwards of twenty miles in all kinds of weather to get their supplies, making it difficult for most of them to receive the rations they needed so desperately. That was but one of the problems Daniel hoped to address here today. The other had to do with the persistent rumor that the government intended to put the Cheyenne Indians on the Crow reservation, merging them with the very people they hated the most. If Daniel had his way, this would never happen, at least not without a lot of bloodshed and needless waste of human life.

When Father van der Velden felt secluded enough to speak up, he surprised Daniel by addressing another issue entirely. "A young man came here a couple of days ago looking for an Indian who'd kidnapped a young white woman from Miles City a few weeks back."

Daniel groaned, unable to stop the involuntary reaction.

"Your brother-in-law came here about six weeks ago and asked us to look after his horses while he borrowed a boat and went into town." Father van der Velden linked his hands behind his back, and deep furrows cut into his forehead. "When he returned the following night, he collected his horses without alerting anyone. Do you know if he is the Indian in question?"

Again Daniel groaned. "Well... yes. He's the one all right, but Long Belly didn't exactly kidnap the women."

"Women?" The clergyman clutched his chest through his black robe. "He took more than one?"

Daniel nodded as he considered ways of explaining the situation without slinging mud on the ladies or on Long Belly. "My brother-in-law thought that he paid for the women, not just a few minutes of their time, and brought them home to me as gifts."

The priest raised his sandy eyebrows. "He believes that females can be bought and sold as gifts, Daniel?"

"Well... yes. At least, he did."

Falling all over himself, he then tried to explain the whorehouse away without actually explaining. "You see, because of this broken leg of mine, Long Belly decided that I needed more help than he could give me. When he heard that white men have places that—er, sell women, he figured he could get the help I need there. Understand?"

Father van der Velden held his gaze steady. "I am a priest, Daniel, not a saint. I am aware that such places exist and I know why they continue to thrive. Do go on. Tell me about this second woman. Is her family also looking for her?"

"Not that I know of." Too embarrassed to look the priest in the eye, Daniel made a show of cleaning his fingernails instead. "Sissy has been working at the—ah, pleasure palace for some time, but she decided she'd rather winter on the reservation with Long Belly than return to Miles City right away."

Father van der Velden stopped walking. "And you're quite sure this was her choice, not something your brother-in-law forced her into?"

"Positive," Daniel was able to say. "Those two have what you might call a hankering for each other."

The priest nodded, thinking things over. "And what's become of the other woman?"

"Josie is her name." Just saying it out loud gave Daniel pause, a moment to reflect on how much duller his life would be without her around to keep him fired up. He cleared his throat before he could go on. "She's here now with her brother, the young man who rode into the mission looking for her a while back. Josie isn't like Sissy, if you get my drift. She isn't a—er, you know—"

"Prostitute?"

"Right."

Lord, how Daniel hated this conversation, especially now that it centered on Josie and her moral standards. He couldn't think of them without thinking about the shameless way he'd treated her—no matter that she hadn't straightened him out on her status. He should have known better somehow—in fact, did, but chose to ignore his gut instincts in favor of more lustful pursuits.

The priest looked him in the eye. "If Miss Baum wasn't employed at this sinful place, then what on earth was she doing at such an establishment?"

Daniel explained it clean and simple, leaving out all mention of her family. "Josie was just a laundress there who happened to cross Long Belly's path."