CHAPTER

8

Kindle’s parting comment rang in my ears: She’s on her own. There was too much anger and bitterness in his voice for it to be an act.

A lantern hanging on the center pole of the tent gave feeble light to the scene. Other than the oil lamp, a pile of torn clothes I assumed were the woman’s, and the saddlebags at my feet, it was empty. Certainly nothing to help me care for her. I lifted my hand to rub my forehead and realized I held Kindle’s knife in one hand, the bloody stick in the other. I could cut her loose, at least.

The woman watched me bend down and cut her other leg free. I moved forward and knelt by her side. When I cut her hands free, would she attack me? Kill me? It was certainly a possibility. I would have tried in her shoes.

I remembered my own ordeal. The Indians had raped me into unconsciousness. I was in no condition to fight back in the end.

“Do you speak English?”

The woman stared wordlessly at me.

I made the sign Kindle taught me for friend. “I am going to help you.” I tried to remember the sign for help, and couldn’t. “Friend,” I repeated while signing. I took a deep breath and cut one hand free, then the other.

The flap of the tent jerked open. Kindle stepped in, threw a buffalo robe on the ground, and left. My gear, including my and Kindle’s canteens, spilled out of the robe. The woman’s deerskin dress had been cut to shreds and was useless. I retrieved the buffalo robe and canteen and returned to the woman. I helped her sit up and wrapped the robe around her. “There, now. We’ll worry about clothes after we get you cleaned up.” I opened the canteen and held it up to my lips. “Drink.”

She reached out for the canteen with trembling arms. “Shh. I’ll help.” I held it while she drank. She nodded when she was done, wrapped the robe tighter around herself, and stared at me. I placed my hand on my chest. “Laura. My name is Laura.” I pointed to her, then back to me. “Laura.”

“Aénhé’ke.”

“Ah-eh-noh-eh-kay?” The woman nodded. I repeated her name, slowly, two or three times, until it didn’t feel quite so foreign in my mouth. “Aénhé’ke.”

I mimed brushing my hair with two hooked fingers, then extended them up to my forehead and circled them. “Doctor. Medicine woman. Help.”

I opened my saddlebag, pulled out my extra shirt, and stopped. Enloe’s holster and gun were at the bottom of the pouch. I shook my head. Kruger obviously hadn’t checked my bag before giving it to me. I wondered who the brains in the outfit was, because so far, none of them seemed smart enough to lead a gang of outlaws.

I tore a strip of cloth from the hem of the shirt, doused it with water, and cleaned the woman’s face. I cleaned the blood-soaked rag and reached toward her torso but didn’t touch her. “Wash?”

The woman opened her robe and allowed me to clean her neck, breasts, and stomach, her penetrating gaze never leaving my face. There were long scars on her arms, as if her skin had been flayed.

I smiled encouragingly at her. “I apologize if it’s cold. We have to make do with what we have.” I moved on to her legs and feet. Her legs showed old scars, but they were too uniform to be from a beating. Most likely self-inflicted. I knew it was tradition in some tribes to self-mutilate when a loved one died. I wonder whom Aénhé’ke lost? I ran out of water before I reached her ankles, which were bloody and raw from where the ropes had tied her down.

I pulled my stethoscope from my saddlebag and put it in my ears. “Listen,” I said, miming on my body how I would listen to her heart, lungs, and abdomen on hers. I took off the stethoscope and cautiously put them in her ears. She furrowed her brow in confusion, until I placed the end over my heart. Her eyes widened. “Heartbeat.” I placed the end of the stethoscope against her breast. The woman smiled and nodded.

I put the ends in my ears and listened. Her heartbeat was strong and slow. Her lungs sounded good as well. With luck, the whisky traders or the Indians who had her before had only beat her face, not her torso. I smiled and nodded. “Good.” I hung my stethoscope around my neck. “Lay.” I motioned with my hands for her to lie down. With a slight hesitation and a good deal of wariness, she did. I held my hands out, placed them gently on her abdomen, and pressed down. I stared at the bloody stick next to me as I felt for internal injuries. The stick was short and thick, and based on where the blood stopped, not long enough to perforate her uterus, though the nubs on the side of the stick most had likely shredded her birth canal. I shook my head. The depths of human cruelty never ceased to amaze me.

A quick exploration of her ribs confirmed none were broken. I listened to her abdomen with my stethoscope and confirmed there were no internal injuries, a relief since I couldn’t help her if there were.

I sat on my knees next to her. I didn’t want to take the chance she would misunderstand if I tried to examine and clean her pudenda. I needed more water but didn’t want to risk leaving her in the tent by herself. She might run, or Tuesday might be lurking outside to finish her off. I picked up my discarded knife. The Indian woman sat up and flinched away from me.

“No. Friend. Wash. Water.” I signed water, and rubbed my arms and chest. “Wash. Outside.” I jerked my thumb to the door and held out my free hand. The woman rose on shaky legs. I grasped her elbow with my free hand. “Lean on me.” We walked out of the tent.

Kindle, Quinn, Bell, and Kruger were around the central fire, each with a bottle of whisky in their hands. The good stuff, if the group’s laughter was any indication. Kindle caught sight of me and his smile dipped before he tilted his head back and took a long pull on his whisky bottle, his gaze never leaving mine. He turned his attention to Bell, and laughed again. I walked off with Aénhé’ke.

We walked around the picketed horses to the far edge of the pool, away from prying eyes. Aénhé’ke paused at the water’s edge, glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the camp, and then back at me. I motioned to the water and held up my knife, pointed to myself, and signed Stay. I touched her robe at the shoulders and waited. When she nodded, I removed the robe and she gingerly stepped into the water. I draped the robe over my arm and kept my eyes half on Aénhé’ke and half on the camp.

Aénhé’ke bent down and immersed herself into the water up to the shoulders. She tilted her head back and ran her hands through her hair. I called out to her and mimed for her to wash her sex. Not knowing precisely how injured she was, and doubtful the woman would allow me to examine her, I had to assume there was a great risk for infection. And I had nothing with me to bandage her with, let alone medicine. I doubted Quinn would give me any whisky to use for sterilization.

I glanced back toward the camp and jumped when I saw Tuesday squatting a dozen yards away, watching us. I gripped my knife with a hand slick with nervous sweat. Tuesday would easily be able to overpower me. Aénhé’ke was motionless in the pool, watching Tuesday as well. We stood there, a frozen tableau, for a full minute.

“Aénhé’ke. Come,” I said and motioned.

Keeping her gaze on Tuesday, Aénhé’ke walked out of the water. I placed the buffalo robe on the woman’s shoulders and walked with her back to the tent.

Tuesday didn’t move.

When we were alone in the tent I tried not to let my nervousness show. I gave Aénhé’ke my extra clothes to dress in and motioned for her to lie down and sleep. She lay on her side, pulled her knees up to her chest, and tightened the buffalo robe around her. I sat down nearby, cross-legged, with the knife in my hand. Facing the tent opening, I prayed I would be able to stay awake the entire night.

After midnight, Kindle stumbled into the tent, reeking of whisky. I jerked upright, and shook my head. I’d fallen asleep. A great guard I’d made.

Kindle swayed on his feet and looked around the dark tent. When his eyes finally landed on me, he nodded, said, “There you are,” and plopped down next to me.

“William, what are you doing?”

He lay on his side, propped onto one elbow. His head wobbled loosely on his neck until he finally got control and looked up at me. “I did what you wanted. I won them over.”

“All the more reason you shouldn’t be in here.”

He waved his hand roughly toward the door. “They’re all passed out. Drunk as skunks. Quinn’s good stuff is good.”

I covered my nose. Kindle’s breath was atrocious. He put his arm across my lap. “Come here.”

“William, you’re drunk.”

“I am.”

“You don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Try to seduce me.”

“Seduce you? I did that back at Fort Richardson. We’re way past seducing.”

“Oh, is that what you did?”

“Yep. Took more effort than I thought it would, but damn, was it worth it.”

“William, you need to leave before you say something you cannot take back.”

He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “You’re right.” He played with my shirt cuff. “So let’s not talk.” His hand moved to my hip and he pulled me toward him. “Lay down with me. Like this afternoon. I want to feel you next to me.”

When I hesitated, he continued. “I did what you asked, though I think this is all a damn fool idea. The least you can do is this.”

I sighed and lay down on my back next to Kindle.

“Put the knife down, woman.” He gently took it from my hand and placed it behind his body.

“What if Tuesday comes in?”

Kindle’s hand rested on my waist. “Don’t worry about her; she’s letting Kruger throw a leg over her.”

“I thought you said they were all asleep.”

“Or otherwise occupied. Shh. No talking.”

I clasped my hands together over my chest and stared at the ceiling. Kindle’s hand rubbed my stomach. “Laura,” he whispered. “Is that what they did to you?”

He didn’t need to elaborate. I closed my eyes and saw the stick between Aénhé’ke’s legs. “I don’t know,” I lied. “I was unconscious for a portion of it.”

“Did my brother have you?”

I met Kindle’s gaze. “No.”

Kindle closed his eyes and exhaled, relief clear on his face. “Was Bell right?”

“About what?”

“At the spring. Why did you invite me in if you didn’t want me to touch you?”

My voice was low and hoarse when I spoke. “I needed to know if you wanted me.”

“I do,” Kindle said. His voice was hoarse with desire. He placed my hand on the front of his pants. His throbbing erection took me back to the first night we made love in the fort library. The desire and wonder when I touched him for the first time. My breath caught.

He unbuttoned his pants and freed himself. His hand covered my own, but he let me set the pace. He was close to climax when he stopped my hand and closed his eyes. “Not yet.” I didn’t stop, too full of the power I had over him, remembering how glorious it felt when he wanted me. Wishing I could want him in return.

He opened his eyes, leaned forward, and kissed me gently. I forced myself to not recoil from the taste of whisky on his tongue. He pulled back, pressed his forehead against mine, and cried out in release.

I wiped my wet hand clean on the hem of his shirt as he caught his breath. He collapsed onto his back with a smile as I buttoned his pants. He lifted up and removed the knife from beneath him and handed it to me. His eyes flicked to the other side of the tent and his smile evaporated. “What are you looking at?”

Over my shoulder, I saw Aénhé’ke watching us.

“Turn away, goddammit,” Kindle growled.

I sat up, blocking Aénhé’ke from his view. “William!”

“She doesn’t need to be watching us.”

“Her eyes are almost swollen shut. And, maybe we don’t need to be doing this in front of her.”

“She’s no innocent.”

He tried to pull me down to lay with him, but I pushed him away. He didn’t seem to notice, just closed his eyes and clasped his hands over his chest, a picture of drunken contentment.

I shoved his shoulder. “Get up. You have to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because if they catch you in here they’ll kill us. If you weren’t stinking drunk you’d know that.” I kept pushing against his shoulder until he waved his arm as if to swat me away and sat up.

“Fine. I’ll go.” His eyes were rheumy and hooded from drink. “Kiss me good-bye.”

“Really, William.”

“I’m not leaving until you do.”

I pecked him on the cheek. “Now get out of—” He pulled me to him and kissed me roughly. I pushed against his chest, but his arms held me tight, pinned me to him. When he pulled away he was grinning.

I slapped him before he opened his eyes.

I scrambled to my feet and pointed to the door with a shaking arm. “Get out.”

Kindle rose and stood before me, rubbing his jaw. I held his gaze, chest heaving, pushing down an emotion I never expected to feel in Kindle’s presence: fear.

Kindle’s countenance transformed from anger into something like horror before my eyes. He dropped his hand and reached out to me, his voice strangled. “Laura.”

I stepped back. “Please leave.”

He turned and was at the door in two steps. He stopped, turned his head to the side, and said, in a barely audible whisper, “Forgive me,” before walking out of the tent.

I lowered my unsteady arm and hugged myself to stop my shaking. I picked up the knife and turned to take up my post again, ignoring Aénhé’ke’s steady gaze.