CHAPTER

11

The three of us celebrated my survival by camping in the valley of two hills and with a buffalo-chip fire. Kindle hobbled his gray and made coffee. Aénhé’ke had wandered off, I guessed to relieve herself. She may have decided now was the time to leave and was making for her tribe. Frankly, I was too exhausted to care.

Kindle handed me a tin mug of coffee and sat down next to me.

I sipped the chicory coffee and smiled, almost laughed.

“What?”

“I was thinking of the first bad cup of coffee I had at Richardson. Waterman told me to get used to it, and indeed I have.”

“Here I come back for you and you immediately set in on my coffee. No gratitude, I swear.”

“And I swear you hear only what you want to hear. I said I liked it.”

“Not in so many words.”

I bent down and looked Kindle in the eyes. “I love your coffee. It’s the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

“That’s more like it.”

Smiling, we held each other’s gaze, falling into the familiar flirty banter that had been a hallmark of our relationship from almost the beginning. For a brief moment, the dream I’d had of our future together was clear; the two of us in a drawing room, discussing current events, household matters, my patients, or our children. A life I’d never imagined or wanted until Kindle, a life that didn’t compute with the two people from the whisky camp. My smile slipped and the events of the night before seeped between us.

I glanced away. “How did you get your gray back?”

In the brief silence, I wondered if Kindle would confront me about my demand earlier, but he didn’t. “I yanked Bell from the saddle.”

“I would have liked to see that.”

“It felt good. But, not as good as what I did to Tuesday.”

“Dare I ask?”

“She’ll have a shiner for a few days.”

I grimaced, knowing all too well what it was like, and thinking how it was one more battle scar for a woman who’d been damaged and bruised enough by men.

Kindle saw my reaction. “You don’t feel sorry for her, do you?”

Aénhé’ke returned holding a thistle, and I remembered my rage at the abuse Tuesday had inflicted on the young Indian. I suspected she learned it from personal experience. Under different circumstances, I would have been defending Tuesday from the same. I turned to Kindle and shrugged a shoulder. “No.”

“She’s lucky I didn’t kill her. When I saw her ride up without you.” Kindle threw a rock into the fire. Aénhé’ke picked up my saddlebag and searched through it. She paused and stared in one side. Her expression was inscrutable. She went for Kindle’s saddlebag.

“What’s she doing?” Kindle said.

“How would I know?”

Aénhé’ke tossed Kindle’s saddlebag down and stared at us. She sighed and pointed to her forearm, then the thistle, then mimed drinking.

“I think she wants to make a thistle tea to help my burn,” I said.

I drank my coffee in three gulps, threw the dregs into the fire, and handed the cup to her. She nodded and set to work. She poured water into the mug, sat it in the middle of the fire, and stripped leaves from the thistle.

“I’m surprised they let you leave to find me. How do they know we’ll return?”

“They have our guns.”

“Except one.” I pulled Enloe’s holster from my saddlebag. “This morning I hid it in the buffalo skin, in case they wised up. They didn’t. Honestly, they aren’t very good bandits.”

“Oscar Enloe keeps saving our bacon,” Kindle said. “How many rounds do you have left?”

“Three. I used one on Piper.” I dropped down next to Kindle and handed him the holster.

Kindle leaned forward and cupped the back of my head. I flinched. “Ow.”

He gently probed the knot. “Christ, Laura. What happened?”

“When I fell off the horse I hit my head.”

“What can I do?”

“Were you about to kiss me?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s start there.”

He leaned forward and paused. “I’m sorry for last night. The whisky got the better of me. It won’t happen again.”

“The drunkenness or the roughness?”

The corner of his visible eye twitched. “Either.”

I cupped his face and kissed him gently.

Aénhé’ke knelt beside me, interrupting the next kiss before it happened. With gentle hands she unwrapped the bandage on my forearm. I hissed and turned my head away as she peeled the bandage from the burn. “Oh my God,” Kindle said.

I kept my head averted and said, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Kindle nodded. “Shouldn’t you look at it?”

I grimaced. “The one injury I cannot stomach is burns. On others, I can handle myself tolerably well. But …” I swallowed the bile in my throat. “I was never good at them before, but after the massacre …”

Kindle rubbed my healthy arm. He knew the story of how I’d watched the Kiowa burn a man alive, had smelled the burning flesh and heard the crackle of fat popping in the heat. I kept my eyes on him and asked, “What is she doing?”

“Soaking your bandage in the mug. With the thistle.”

“Is she? Interesting. I need to sketch and chronicle that, for future reference.”

Kindle grinned at me. “You are one remarkable woman, Laura Elliston.”

I shrugged, but couldn’t keep at bay the flush of pleasure at his compliment. “I try.”

“I can’t believe you carried your saddle for hours. Why didn’t you leave it?”

“I thought to, but since I gave away the last of my mother’s jewelry, I knew we’d be ill able to afford a new one.”

“Is that so?”

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“I think you carried it to prove you could do it. And to impress me.”

“It might have been part of my motivation. Did it work?” He nodded and watched Aénhé’ke. “Are you angry with me for buying her?” I asked.

Kindle sighed. “I wasn’t angry you bought her, I was angry at the price.” He turned his attention to me. “We’re broke, as you carrying your saddle halfway across Indian Territory proves.”

“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry. But, I couldn’t stand by and let them abuse her.” I covered my eyes, hoping to banish the visual of Tuesday raping Aénhé’ke with a stick. Kindle touched my knee.

“Of course not.” What was unsaid between us, but understood, was I would have killed Tuesday with my bare hands if Kindle hadn’t pulled me off. “We don’t have any money, and only one gun.”

“And one horse. I’ve got to stop naming my animals Piper. They never come to a good end.”

We watched Aénhé’ke pull the mug from the fire with the denuded thistle stalk.

“What are we going to do with her?” Kindle asked.

“I didn’t think that far ahead. Do you have any ideas?”

He sighed. “Once we get clear of Bell, I thought we’d take her to the Quakers.”

“Will they be able to determine what tribe she’s part of?”

“She’s Cheyenne.”

“How do you know?”

“Bell told me. She was a Kiowa slave.”

“And they traded her for whisky.”

“Yes.”

I clenched my jaw and my face went hot with anger at how women were treated as little more than men’s possessions.

“I wonder how she got to be a slave,” Kindle mused.

“Why?”

“The Cheyenne made peace with the Kiowa and Comanche thirty years ago. I suppose there could’ve been a dust up between them, but it would be more like they’d band together against the settlers than fight each other.”

Aénhé’ke returned and knelt next to me. She lifted the wet, steaming strip of cloth from the mug. She shook the cloth slightly, until the steam coming from it dissipated. She took my right arm and slowly lowered the cloth onto the burn.

“Does it hurt?” Kindle said.

I nodded and breathed through the excruciating pain. Aénhé’ke took my right hand in hers, dabbed the wet cloth on the burn, and dipped the cloth in the thistle tea again. This time she cooled it, squeezed it out, and wrapped it around my arm. The initial pain was eventually replaced by a pleasant cool sensation. Aénhé’ke tied the bandage and rose.

“Thank you,” I said.

She smiled and nodded and sat across the fire from us.

“You said once we get clear of Bell. How are we going to do that?”

“We need our guns and there’s only one way to get them back.”

I was afraid I knew the answer, but I asked the question anyway. “How?”

“We’re going to have to kill who needs killing.”

With three people and one horse, we made poor progress. Charlie Bell and his minions caught up with us midday.

“Pay up, Kruger,” Bell said. He held out his hand to the German. “He bet me you ran.”

“I’m a man of my word,” Kindle said.

Kruger pulled a crumpled sawbuck from his vest pocket and handed it to Bell. Bell pocketed the money and narrowed his eyes at Kindle. “You keep saying. Give me my horse back.” He got off the blazed-faced sorrel, gave Kindle his reins, and took Kindle’s from him. Bell mounted the gray and held his hand out for me. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall off.”

I threw my saddlebags over the back of Bell’s horse and mounted. Kindle and Aénhé’ke mounted his and we set off.

Cuidado rode ahead to scout. Bell kicked the gray into a trot and Kruger, Kindle, and Tuesday fell in behind us.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Quinn was heading to the Caddos, then the Wichitas before they head to the agency to get their allotment. We’re following.”

“And, then what? Six people raid an Indian village of hundreds? I know you are a gambler, but I do not like those odds.”

“Best we can hope for with the Caddos is they have a small village. They aren’t buffalo hunters like the plains Indians. The Wichitas are. Their warriors are off the rez hunting buffalo. Which means it’s old men and women and children left. Drunk old men and women and children we can handle.”

“Sounds cowardly, if you ask me.”

He turned in his saddle. “Why in hell you’d care what happens to a bunch of savages, I don’t understand. Tuesday, I get. She’s out to make every Indian she meets pay. You buy one and take care of her. She’ll turn on you first chance, mark my words.”

“I don’t expect you to get me. You’re a man and can’t possibly understand. So your plan is to drag us around Indian Territory raiding defenseless villages? What is our destination? Where will you turn me in?”

“When I get tired of you. What should I call you? You’ve never actually said.”

“Laura is fine.”

“But, it ain’t your real name.”

“Is Charlie Bell your real name?”

“Good point.” Our horse walked around a five-foot-tall, vicious-looking plant. “That’s there’s a bull nettle. Fall into that and you’ll die a painful death.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“We got a ways to go, why don’t you tell me a story?”

“About what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What happened to your voice? Or have you always sounded like a man?”

I bristled. I knew I had no right to be vain. I’d lost weight, cut my hair, hadn’t had a true bath in almost a month, and almost every area of my body had been bruised, injured, or scarred. But, when I bothered to imagine the image I presented to people, it was of a confident woman, plainly but smartly dressed, head held high, with shining golden hair and an alto voice that intrigued rather than repulsed.

“A man took exception to what I said and punched me in the throat.”

“How long ago?”

How long had it been? Four weeks? Six? I’d lost track of time. “About six weeks, I suppose. Where are you from, Mr. Bell?”

Kruger laughed. “Mr. Bell,” he said, in a heavily accented parody of a refined voice.

“The greatest place on earth.”

“He means Texas,” Kruger said.

“Excuse me if I don’t share your enthusiasm,” I said.

“You had a hard ride of it in Texas, didnja?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Well, the Indians’ days are numbered, mark my words. No thanks to the Army. No offense, Major,” Bell said.

“I was a captain,” Kindle said.

“I suppose the Captain and the Murderess doesn’t have the same ring to it. Guess Henry Pope took some liberties.”

“Henry Pope came up with the name?” I asked.

“He did.” Bell spat on the ground. “He’s one tough motherfucker. Should have died after the beating he got.”

“You were in Jacksboro at the time?”

“Best place to hide out from the Army is right under their nose,” Kruger said.

“Don’t tell the Army man all our secrets,” Bell chastised. “Though, I guess it don’t matter now. They catch you, Captain, and they’ll put you in front of a firing squad.”

A firing squad? I turned to Kindle. “Is that true?” When Kindle didn’t answer, I knew it was. My breath caught, and I turned around to stare at the back of Bell’s neck. Why would Harriet help Kindle escape if she knew the consequences? Did she think her forged letter from her brother, the colonel, would save Kindle?

Bell turned his head and said in a low voice only I could hear, “You didn’t know that? I can see why he would risk it all for you. You’re a handsome woman. At least, you were. You could be again.”

“What do you mean, I was?”

“You don’t remember me from the road to Jacksboro?”

My brows furrowed, then cleared. Kindle and I had met two men on the road to Jacksboro not long before I was abducted but hadn’t paid either too much attention. We were in the middle of a disagreement about the kiss we’d shared. Our first. I realized later Cotter Black had been one of the men. “You were with Black that day?” I whispered.

“Look!” Kruger said. “Cuidado.”

We all kicked our horses into a gallop to meet Cuidado. The horses shook their heads and danced around when we pulled up. Cuidado’s horse went around in a circle.

“What is it?”

“Quinn’s train was attacked about two miles back.”

“They dead?”

Cuidado nodded. “Took the wagon. Tracks went off to the northeast.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

Bell grinned. “Excellent.”

“Whoever is going to incapacitate your Indians for easy killing now that Quinn’s dead?” I asked.

“We’ll worry about that later. Right now, there’s Indians that need killing.”

I caught Kindle’s eye before Bell urged our horse into a determined trot. Kindle’s nod was almost imperceptible. We headed northeast in silence.