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Michelle stumbled backward and tried to catch her breath to scream again, but her throat seized. A huge, half-naked Indian stood on the other side of the creek staring at her.
He wore nothing but a tiny scrap of buckskin over his privates and had a knife strapped around his dark-skinned torso. He watched her, unmoving.
Michelle dug her heels into the soft earth and scooted up the embankment. The bucket of water tipped and soaked her. She cursed, then looked at the Indian. He arched an eyebrow and smirked.
Everything she had been taught about Indian-savages flooded back to her. She’d heard stories of settlers being scalped, disemboweled, or worse. Would she be able to make it back to the cabin before he grabbed her? Why hadn’t Luther warned her about Indians roaming in the woods?
A twig snapped behind her. Were there more of them? She spun around, ready to scream again.
Luther stepped out of the woods. “Michelle, what are—”
“Luther!” She ran to him and flung her arms around his neck, practically knocking him down.
“Whoa, whoa, what the—”
She ducked behind Luther. Despite everything she had done wrong, he would protect her. “Luther, oh dear God. Do something! He’s going to scalp me and kill you, or—”
“Why are you all wet? I sent you out here to fetch—”
“Don’t you see him?” She clenched Luther’s arm. “Where’s your gun? That savage is going to kill me.”
To her amazement, Luther waved at the Indian.
She yanked his arm down. “Don’t wave! What’s wrong with you? My God, Luther, can’t you see he’s here to kill me, or scalp me, or—”
“I’m havin’ one hell of a day,” Luther said to the man across the creek.
The Indian chuckled.
“Don’t talk to him!”
Luther rolled his eyes. “Michelle, he ain’t gonna bother you. Now will you quit actin’ foolish and get the water?”
“You’re not serious. Do you have any idea what these savages do? What they’re like?”
“Redfeather, are you gonna scalp this foolish white woman?” Luther asked.
She gasped. “He speaks English?”
“Sure he does.” Luther paused and cocked his head to one side. “Why? What have you been telling him?”
“Interesting words from this one,” Redfeather replied.
Michelle jumped back, startled. Something about Redfeather’s deep voice reminded her of the way Shadow had growled at her last night. Just because Luther wasn’t afraid, it didn’t mean she shouldn’t be. The red devil could wait until Luther was gone, then attack and kill her. A savage was still a savage.
Luther knelt and filled the water bucket. She yelped as Redfeather leapt across the creek in one jump. She darted in front of Luther and almost tripped him as he carried the bucket toward the cabin.
“Watch it! Are you tryin’ to give me a bath?”
She inched closer to Luther’s side. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “He’s following us. Make him go away.”
“Why are you scared? You should be embarrassed,” Luther grumbled.
Michelle cast a glance behind her. Redfeather was still following them. “Isn’t it obvious? You can’t trust him. He’s a soulless savage.”
“You be quiet. You don’t know what you’re saying,” Luther snapped and thrust the bucket at her. “Take this into the cabin.”
“But, Luther—”
“Git!”
She took the bucket and dashed inside.
* * *
LUTHER BRACED HIMSELF for the lecture he knew was coming. Redfeather was never one to tolerate rude treatment from anyone, especially a woman. His status as a medicine man had earned him the right to be respected.
“Good to see you. What’s it been? Three weeks?” He hadn’t expected Redfeather to visit so soon. He had hoped to prepare Michelle, at least a little.
“How long has the white woman been here?”
“Two days. Her name is Michelle. She’s the mail-order—”
“That is the wife you spent your money on? The woman they sent you?” Redfeather shook his head, rattling the multi-colored beads braided into his hair. “She is no wife for you. She is trouble. Send her away.”
“No. You scared her, that’s all. You’ll see, once we get inside she’ll have calmed down.”
Redfeather scowled. “She is a fire-tongued demon.”
He chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it. But she’s nice underneath. We hiked to the ridge yesterday and she liked it up there. She needs time to adjust. Things out here are different from what she’s used to.”
“Adjust?” Redfeather spat on the ground. “You heard the words she used. You allow your wife to speak in such a way? To show such disrespect?”
Luther watched a robin building a nest in the nearby tree. Redfeather was right. Michelle’s cruel words had offended him, too. “That was wrong. She knows it.”
“You make excuses for her? Why? What do you know of her? Where did she come from?”
He studied the gray sky. Heavy thunderclouds formed on the horizon. It would rain tonight. Brewing storms always brought trouble. “I asked, and she told me back east. I ain’t pressed her about it,” he said as they walked to the cabin.
“Send her back. I will bring you a good Ojibwa woman, one who will speak soft and not cause trouble,” Redfeather replied.
“I told you, I don’t want an Ojibwa woman,” he argued as he rounded the corner of the cabin.
“You would rather suffer with this white woman from back east than have a loving, caring wife? Why? She is no mate for you.”
“She’s mine.” He stopped outside the door. “I can see she’s a good person. Michelle needs to learn to trust me more, that’s all. Besides, I think I’m falling in love with her.”
“Love? After two days?” Redfeather scoffed. “That is not love, it is lust. Where is your pride? She is not fit to—”
“Michelle is the woman the spirits chose for me. Are you going to question them?”
Satisfied with the stunned expression on Redfeather’s face, Luther opened the cabin door and went inside.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, MICHELLE sat on the bed, pouting. Redfeather was seated across from Luther at the table. Their long hair dangled over scraps of leather and bits of fur as they sewed. A heavy silence hung in the air. Luther had no right to invite Redfeather into the cabin, and he shouldn’t have humiliated her in front of him.
When the two men had returned from the creek, Luther had tried to introduce her to Redfeather, but she ignored him and dried her skirt in front of the fireplace. After a few minutes, she got up and walked past them.
Luther grabbed her arm. “Apologize to Redfeather for what you said outside.”
“No. I will not apologize to a soulless sav—”
Luther clamped down harder on her arm. “Apologize to him.”
“Let me go!”
“You’ll go.” Luther stood. “You’ll go to Jed in the morning. You sound just like him. I’m sure the two of you will get along fine.”
“You wouldn’t dare. You said—”
“That was before I knew how mean you are,” Luther argued. “Now apologize.”
She shook her head.
In the blink of an eye, Luther spun her around and smacked her hard on her backside.
“Ow!” As she tried to pull away, he spanked her again, harder.
“You wanna act like a child, I’ll treat you like one,” he snapped as he smacked her again. “Now apologize.”
“Ow! No.”
“Fine then.” Luther shoved her onto the bed. “Tomorrow morning you’re gone. I won’t have a woman like you living with me.”
That had been hours ago. Since then, she had sat on the bed, fuming. The spanking hadn’t hurt, but her pride was wounded. She glared in Redfeather’s direction. A second later, Redfeather said something to Luther in an Indian language. How could Luther understand him? It sounded like nonsense to her.
“Don’t make me get up, Michelle.”
She flopped back on the bed and pulled the blanket over her head. Why was Luther acting so mean to her? He wasn’t really going to send her away, was he?
* * *
MICHELLE PULLED THE blanket away from her head and sat up. How long had she been asleep? She glanced out the window. It was dark out. Redfeather was playing cards with Luther in front of the fireplace.
“Well, look who’s awake.” Luther crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He held out a tin cup. “Want some?”
She peeked inside. The cup was half-filled with whiskey. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”
“You can join us when you’re ready. Supper’s gonna be a while,” Luther said as he returned to his place in front of the fire.
Michelle swept a lock of hair away from her face. Her hair was a knotted mess and needed a good brushing. She got out of bed and opened her gray trunk.
A crumpled black skirt covered with grime lay on top. She shoved it aside and dug under her filthy clothes, wrinkling her nose at a white blouse that smelled like horses and sweat. Her hand mirror and brush decorated with yellow roses lay at the bottom of the trunk. As she took them out, she noticed Luther was watching her.
“What?”
“Nothing. Surprised you opened it, that’s all.”
“I wanted my brush.” She closed the lid. Her trunks contained too many memories. One day, when she was safely settled somewhere, she’d sort out her past. Until then, it was better if it remained hidden. She sat at the table and ran the brush through her hair.
“Ow!” The brush came away filled with long blonde hairs. She raked the brush through again, then winced and sucked air in through her teeth. Her head stung as if a chunk of her scalp had been yanked out.
“Come here and let me take a look. Redfeather’s beat me at cards enough for now.” Luther patted the space on the floor next to him.
She considered her options. It couldn’t hurt to make up to Luther, and she didn’t feel like fighting anymore. What happened earlier today had been her fault. She had deliberately pushed Luther to see what would happen.
She rose from the chair and went to Luther’s side. Redfeather sat across from her, shuffling the cards.
Luther knelt behind her. “Hold your head still, like that.” He positioned her head so she faced Redfeather. She closed her eyes. The man was nearly naked. She didn’t dare look at him.
Luther separated her hair into three sections. His wide, warm hand caressed the back of her neck and a shiver ran up her spine. What was he doing? Her pulse quickened as Luther tenderly stroked her neck. She felt her nipples harden beneath her dress as his fingertips trailed across her skin.
His thumb massaged a small knot in her neck, and she bent her head forward, allowing him to knead her tense and tired muscles. She relaxed and lost herself in Luther’s touch, vaguely aware of him brushing her hair with one hand.
Would he let his hands wander lower and work the stiffness out of her shoulders? What would happen if she leaned against his chest? His powerful hands were strong, and yet, they caressed her softly. What would it feel like if he—
“Ow!” She jumped as the brush tore out a lock of her hair. “That hurt.”
“Sorry. You sure did a good job with this.” Luther worked on the knots for a few minutes. “As I see it, you’ve got two choices.”
“What?”
“I rub bear fat in it—”
“Bear fat?”
“Or I cut the chunk out,” Luther finished. “And I got bad news for ya.”
“What?”
“I’m all out of bear fat.”
Redfeather chuckled and Michelle turned her head. She couldn’t look at him, knowing what he was. When would he leave?
Luther cleared his throat. “What’s wrong with the man across from you? Some reason you won’t look at him?”
She didn’t answer.
“I’m asking, Michelle, and you’d best answer me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She didn’t want to start another argument with Luther, but she wasn’t about to stare at Redfeather’s nearly-naked body. Who knew what kind of ideas it might give him?
Luther tossed the brush down. “You won’t look at him, will ya? Well, I’m not having me a wife like this. You think you’re better’n him ’cause you’re a rich white woman?”
“It’s not—”
“I won’t have it. You’re gonna tell me, no, tell Redfeather, why you won’t look at him.”
“No.” She tried to stand, but Luther clutched her shoulders and shoved her down.
“Don’t make me give you to Jed...” Luther threatened.
She glanced at Redfeather. He sat watching the scene, his face expressionless. “It’s...” She wanted to say that Indians killed people and molested women, but Luther would give her to Jed for certain if she told him that.
She dared a peek at Redfeather’s tanned torso. How could anyone walk around like that? “It’s because... you’re...” She forced the words out. “...practically naked.”
“Good Lord,” Luther muttered.
Redfeather smiled. “And this excites you?”
“What? God no! It’s—”
“Is my body unattractive to you?” Redfeather asked. “Look at me. What part is offensive?”
She closed her eyes. How dare he ask her to look at him! Why didn’t Redfeather have any shame?
“Look at him.”
She didn’t have to look. As sinful as it was, she already knew. Redfeather’s body was trim and tan, much like she had imagined Luther’s to be. Redfeather had a flat stomach and a tiny trail of hair leading down to the scrap of skin around his waist. She didn’t dare look any lower. Who knew what she might see?
She opened her eyes and glanced at Redfeather. “You should wear breeches.”
“You were raised to have shame for your body, I was not. I do not hide it under layers of clothing. It is because you are white that you find me unattractive.” Redfeather winked at her. “Or do you?”
She gasped.
Redfeather continued. “Your tantrums serve no purpose. You are a spoiled child. Do you think Luther asked for a child?” He paused. “No. He wanted a wife, a companion. If you do not wish to behave as a woman does, then Luther should get another wife.”
“How dare you! You can’t—”
“Remember where you are,” Redfeather said. “You came here, to our land. You chose to leave your people. You need to decide if that was wise,” he commented, then resumed shuffling the cards.
She stared at him, speechless. Redfeather had no right to speak to her that way. He didn’t know anything—and yet everything he said was true. How did he know she ran away? “Luther, are you going to let him say those things to me?”
Luther shrugged. “He said his piece. Besides, what he said was a helluva lot nicer than what you called him.”
“You’re impossible.” Michelle grabbed her brush and walked to the bed. She brushed out her hair as best as she could while the men played cards. “Ouch, dammit.” There was a huge knot two inches from her scalp.
“You want me to take it out, or not?” Luther chuckled at his bad joke.
Redfeather put down his cards. “I’ll check on dinner.”
She waited until Redfeather had left the cabin, then rose from the bed. “I suppose, but try to make it blend in.” She knelt next to Luther, and he unsheathed the knife strapped to his waist.
“How long is he going to stay here?” she asked.
“As long as he wants. He’s—”
She peered at Luther over her right shoulder. “But why? He’s a—”
He silenced her with a blazing look. “If you say he can’t stay here because you’re afraid of him, or call him another nasty name, you’ll be in Jed’s house so fast it’ll make your head spin.” He frowned. “I ain’t asked him how long he’ll stay. What are you worried about? That he’ll carry you back to the rest of the tribe and pass ya around?”
Luther yanked on a piece of her hair and she winced. “Redfeather wouldn’t waste his time on you. In case you ain’t figured it out, he doesn’t like white folks. What would he want you for? Did you ever think of that?” He paused for a second, then continued.
“But I suppose that’s what those righteous, God-fearing Christians put into your head. Every red man is after a white woman. Tell me, Michelle, is that what they taught you back east in those fancy schools? That all these so-called savages spend their time killing people and chasing after women?”
Michelle let Luther rant. She didn’t know how to respond to his bitter words. After a few seconds, she realized he was waiting for an answer. “No. And don’t talk like that. It upsets me.”
“Fine then. Prove you got brains in your head. Think before you talk. Seems to me they shoulda taught you some manners back east. Someone ought to have showed you how to act like a decent hostess to a guest in the house. You still owe Redfeather a proper apology. I won’t tolerate any more of this bad behavior from you.”
“But I—”
Luther thrust a long lock of hair into her hand. “Here, consider yourself scalped. Now set the table so we can eat.”
* * *
MICHELLE PICKED AT her dinner and tried not to look at Redfeather. Luther had deliberately seated Redfeather across from her at the table. He was determined that she get used to him. Luther had kept trying to make conversation throughout the meal. The situation was awkward and killed what little appetite she had.
Luther pushed out his chair and stood. “I’m gonna take a walk. I’ll be back in a while.”
She started to rise. “I’ll go, too.”
“No, you won’t. You stay here and wash the dishes. I won’t be long.” Luther left the cabin without saying another word.
Michelle caught Redfeather staring at her. “What?” She folded her arms across her chest.
“I do not believe someone like you would want to be a wife to anyone.” Redfeather leaned across the table. “Luther asked for a wife. You are no wife. He feeds you and keeps you safe, and you take advantage of his good nature.”
A chill ran down her spine. Redfeather’s words were too close to the truth for her liking. “What do you mean?”
“You are no wife. You are a disgrace. If I were Luther, I would take you to town in the morning and let you learn what wife means from the white men. Luther should send you back east and be rid of you.”
Why did Luther and Redfeather keep saying “back east” as if it were a bad thing? “He can’t do that.”
“Yes, he can. Something is not right with you. This was a mistake.” Redfeather leaned back in the chair and sipped his coffee.
“There’s no mistake,” she insisted. “Luther sent away for a mail-order bride and here I am.”
“Yes, you are here, but where is his bride?” He smirked. “It is not you. You have no papers, only your word, and who believes that? You do not act like you want a husband.”
Michelle wrung her hands in her lap. How could Redfeather know the truth? Somehow, he saw through her deception. What if Luther contacted the mail-order bride company about her? What would happen if Luther’s real wife showed up? What would Luther do if he found out the truth? He said he hated liars.
“I am his wife, ask him. I came in on the coach.” She wanted her voice to sound confident, but it came out weak. She stood and carried her plate to the fireplace.
“How long will you stay?”
The tin plate slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. She whirled around. “What?”
A grin stretched across Redfeather’s lips. “How long until you become bored with your game? That is what this is to you. You do not expect to stay long.” He gestured at the unpacked trunks stacked in the corner. “One day you will leave to continue running.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she broke out in a cold sweat. How could Redfeather know she was on the run? If he had figured it out so quickly, wouldn’t Luther?
“Running? Running from what?” she asked as she picked up her plate.
“That I do not know. But there are two things no person can ever escape.”
“What are they?”
Redfeather’s coal-black eyes bore deep into hers. “Your past and your self. Why do you not admit the truth?”
She swallowed hard and didn’t answer. Although they had just met, Redfeather knew all about her. But how was that possible? Did he have magical Indian powers? Could he read her mind? She walked to the table on shaking legs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Redfeather clasped her hand as she reached for Luther’s plate. His rough skin felt hot, as if a fire burned within him. She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.
“He is kind to you. Do not hurt him, whatever you do. Find a small piece of your heart that is not made of stone and do that much. Do not wound him when you leave.” He paused. “There is much pain and suffering around you.” Redfeather’s voice softened. “You have been hurt. Bad enough to make you run away and come here. You need to heal.”
“Why do you say that? You can’t possibly know...” A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed hard.
“I do know. I sense your spirit is divided. You are two people. One half is the child who pushes everyone away so you do not get attached. The other half cries for help. You need to heal, join the two halves. Combine your split spirit into one. It is the only way.”
Michelle wiped a tear off her cheek. “How can I do that?”
“You must stop running. You will never outrun yourself. Face the trouble and conquer it. Find strength in your spirit.” Redfeather held up a small leather pouch that hung from his neck. “Do you know what this is?”
She shook her head.
“There is a spirit inside.”
“A ghost?”
Redfeather chuckled. “No. A companion soul, or spirit. It is always with me to comfort me when I am alone, afraid, or uncertain. I call upon this spirit for guidance and wisdom.”
Michelle looked at the pouch. Luther wore a similar one around his neck. Did he have a spirit, too? “How do I get one of those?”
“Release the past and learn from what surrounds you. Be open to the ways of this land. Luther has much to teach you.” Redfeather let the pouch drop to his chest. “The path of the spirit is not easy. It will challenge you. You must use your strength and intelligence to conquer your demons.” He paused. “When you have done this, you will no longer be two people.”
“I’ll try. I’ll be nicer to Luther, I swear. Please don’t tell him any of this,” she begged. “I’m sorry for how I acted toward you, but back home, people don’t—”
“No excuses. Luther listens to me. If I tell him to send you away, he will. Do not cross me if you wish to remain here as his”—Redfeather cleared his throat—“wife.”
Michelle nodded. No matter what, she had to remain on good terms with Redfeather, for her sake, as well as Luther’s.
