Woman of Courage (33 page)

“That’s right,” Amanda acknowledged, glancing at Buck as he pet Thunder, “and I thank you for that, Mary.” She motioned to Little Joe as they both took seats on a log. “He seems to have grown so much these past few weeks.”

Mary nodded. “He grow tall like his father someday. He already strong baby.”

“Yes,” Amanda agreed. “And I’m sure if Jim were alive, he’d be proud of both you and his son.”

Mary lowered her gaze. “I miss husband.”

Amanda touched Mary’s arm. “I’m sure you do, but at least you have his son, and that has to be a comfort. Through Little Joe, Jim will live on.”

Mary nodded briefly, then placed Little Joe on the deer hide beside Little Fawn. “Someday our children be good friends.”

Amanda smiled. “I hope so, Mary. And I hope you and I will be good friends for many years, too. We have come a long way together.”

As Amanda and Mary sat and visited near the water, Buck couldn’t take his eyes off Amanda. He began tending the fire, which really didn’t need tending at all, but it gave him something to do. Amanda had taken her hair out of the bun she normally wore, and it fell down her back in silky waves. She was plain, yet beautiful. Her eyes were as blue as the afternoon sky. Her voice, so soft and lilting, often left him feeling a hunger such as he’d never known. Amanda’s skin looked like silk, and a tan gave her a healthy glow.
Are all white women like this one?
he wondered. She seemed to be enveloped with an aura of love. It made him feel peaceful yet strangely uncomfortable. From the first moment he’d set eyes on her, Buck hadn’t been able to get Amanda out of his mind. She was in his every thought, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

As Buck willed himself not to, his feet took him once again to where Amanda and Mary were sitting. He sat on the log on the other side of her, and his throat grew suddenly dry.

Amanda turned in his direction, just as Mary got up to leave.

Mary took Little Joe to the water’s edge and sat down, dipping her feet into the coolness. She held her son and dipped his feet, too, smiling when he squealed with delight. The river was clear, and looking out toward the center, Mary could see the bottom and a few trout lazily swimming into the current. Round, smooth pebbles of all sizes and colors covered the river’s floor, which made it easy to walk on, so Mary decided to do just that.

She got up, holding her son snugly, and waded in, knee-deep. There she saw a large, flat rock to sit on, immersing herself in the water, halfway up to her chest. Little Joe was still very young, but even at this age Mary wanted him to have no fear of the water. Just like the last time, he seemed to enjoy it. As she held on to her child, supporting him underneath, she moved him back and forth, skimming the water’s surface, and his little feet kicked with delight.

“You swim like little fish,” Mary crooned. Hearing him giggle made her happy, with thoughts leading toward her people. What would it be like when she reached her tribe? Would they accept her son, who was half white?

As Mary picked up Little Joe, a bird called from the other side of the river. It was a joyful sound, and she watched as it came closer, quickly flew over her head, and disappeared out of sight. Seeing the bird was something familiar to Mary, and she watched in amazement as a perfect yellow feather drifted to the ground.

Memories flooded back to when she was a girl and had gone seeking her guardian spirit. She remembered in her weakness that day that her eyesight had grown fuzzy, and she’d swayed, trying to stay upright from fatigue. Then the golden bird had come and dropped a bright yellow feather. Mary’s father had told her later that a yellow bird meant to have trust in using power in voice. Looking back on it now, Mary felt that her guardian spirit had been with her when she’d encountered Seth Burrows and had shown no fear. She was certainly scared on the inside, but her voice had not revealed it.

Mary had also been blessed with a beautiful singing voice—another gift from her bird spirit, the canary. And now, seeing her guardian spirit once again gave Mary new hope in what was to come once she found her village and people.

Buck’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton when he leaned slightly toward Amanda, and their gazes locked. In that brief span of time, something indefinable passed between them. Then she smiled and looked away.

He fought the urge to touch her face and trace the line of her jaw with his fingertips. It was a good thing she’d looked away from him, for it only took a split second to be lost in those liquid pools of blue. To run the backs of his fingers over her smooth, tan skin was a temptation he could hardly control. Instead, he focused on their mules and horses. Buck couldn’t let his imagination run away with him.

He got up to check on the livestock one more time and then decided to take a dip in the river. He needed to wash the dust off himself, but he also needed to cool his body from the heat of the day.

Buck made his way on a small path leading downstream so he could enjoy a private swim and clear his jumbled thoughts. The river looked refreshing and calm, with only a small current going straight down the middle. Buck could hardly wait to plunge into the water, and he was lucky to find a small inlet blocked by some rocks, which created a small pool, separate from the river.

Sitting on one of the bigger rocks, Buck removed his shirt. He was just getting ready to take off his trousers when he heard the sound of running horses in the distance. He turned the other way and cringed when he saw a cloud of dust and several Indian ponies heading toward their camp. Buck’s chest tightened as he reached for his gun and hurried back to protect the women. Who were these Indians, and what did they want?

T
hree fierce-looking Blackfoot warriors dismounted and stood before Buck. Thunder’s hair bristled, and he bared his teeth, while standing close to Buck’s leg.

“Be quiet, dog,” Buck commanded, nudging Thunder to sit down. Using the hand signal for friendship and the greeting of “hello,” he motioned for the men to take a seat by the fire.

Buck wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but remaining calm and trying to stay friendly, while keeping unnoticeably cautious, was the best thing to do. He stood, waiting quietly while taking in all the details of the three men. They each wore a loincloth with leggings made from deer hide that went up to their hips. A belt was also included, along with a brightly designed shirt from the same material. Colorful beads adorned their moccasins, and the tall one had a necklace of grizzly paws hanging around his neck. Buck knew this piece was a sign of bravery.

The tallest of the three men made a low, guttural sound, then held up a string of fish that looked like they’d recently been caught. He made no effort to sit on the log near the fire or even crouch down on his haunches, like Buck had just done. Instead, he stood firmly in place, his eyes scanning the campsite as though he might be looking for something.

Amanda and Mary remained motionless, holding their babies tightly to their chests. Buck knew from their tight shoulders and rapid blinking that they were both afraid. Things had been going along so well lately; this was not what they needed.

After several moments, the taller Indian, who appeared to be the leader of the group, spoke to his companions in their native tongue; although Buck didn’t recognize any of the words. At least so far their demeanor didn’t seem threatening.

The leader turned from the other man and faced Buck again. He held the fish a bit higher and pointed at the two blankets draped over the log near the fire, opposite where the women sat.

Buck nodded, realizing that the man wanted to trade the fish for the blankets. He had no problem with that. They had other blankets in one of their packs, so he would gladly give away two blankets, just to see these men be on their way. He stood, grabbed up the blankets, and handed them to their leader.

The man grunted and pointed to one of the horses they’d been using to carry some of their supplies.

“No, he can’t have that! It was my father’s horse!” Amanda shouted, although she didn’t make a move.

With his head lowered, Thunder stood and released a throaty growl. Buck had to hush the dog once more, and Thunder obeyed, never taking his eyes off the warrior.

The Indian’s eyes narrowed at the dog, seemingly unafraid. Then he pointed to the horse again.

Buck shook his head, but changed his mind when the Indian made a sudden advance toward Amanda, holding his knife. Extending his hand in a sign of peace, Buck moved quickly to the horse, and led it over to the men. He then handed the reins to the leader, hoping this would satisfy the Indians, and they would leave. Since Blackfeet were known for their excellent horsemanship and raided other tribes to take their best horses, Buck was actually surprised that the tall one would settle for the chestnut brown horse that had belonged to Amanda’s father, and not the beautifully marked spotted horse that Jim used to ride.

The Indian grunted and dropped the fish across the log. Mounting his painted horse in one fluid motion, he rode away, pulling Amanda’s father’s horse by a rawhide rope, while the other two Indians followed.

Buck heaved a sigh of relief. Either Amanda’s God or Mary’s guardian spirit must have been watching over them, because he never expected the Blackfeet to leave so quickly. He figured they would want more.

“You gave that man my father’s horse!” Amanda hollered, turning an angry face on Buck. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinkin’ about you, Mary, and the babies,” he replied in an equally angry tone. “If I hadn’t given ’em the horse they wanted, we coulda all been killed.”

“But thee had no right to give my father’s horse away without asking my permission.” Amanda’s voice quavered, and Buck figured she was on the verge of tears.

“Would ya have given it?” he asked, already knowing her answer.

She shook her head. “No, I would not.”

“Would ya rather that I gave you or Little Fawn to those Indians?”

“No, of course not, but …”

“Knowin’ the situation, I gave ’em what they wanted, and now they’re gone, so you oughta be glad for that.” Buck wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m surprised that Indian settled for so little, though. They could have taken all our horses and supplies if they’d wanted to, or even done worse.”

“Buck is right,” Mary interjected. “We be lucky they only took blankets and one horse. Could have took everything—even us or babies.”

Amanda nodded, her shoulders trembling. “I am ever so thankful that no one was hurt, especially our children.”

“Me, too,” Buck said. “We’re all lucky to be alive.”