I like your Ivy Ann,” Nat told Adam one late spring afternoon. The brothers had reined in on top of a grassy knoll above Antelope to let their horses rest after a climb. “I wouldn’t have thought such a girl as you described could so quickly adjust and become part of the community.” His fine eyes looked into the blue heavens. “But something seems to be troubling her. Have you noticed the way she bubbles at times and still carries an almost brooding look at others?”
Adam relaxed in his saddle. “Yes, it’s strange. The Ivy Ann I knew at Red Cedars cared for little except getting her own way.” His lips curved in remembrance. Aspen leaves decked in new-leaf green whispered secrets not to be shared with the riders. A confession Adam wanted to make halted on his lips and a worry line formed between his dark brows. Even though the Bible said to share burdens, right now Nat didn’t need a heavier load. Nat’s efforts to get more law and order than Antelope wanted had resulted in bitterness, especially from the owners of the Pronghorn and Silver saloons.
Suddenly Adam’s horse shied and Nat’s whinnied. Like a stab of lightning, a dark form appeared in front of the startled brothers. Adam’s mouth fell open. A magnificent Indian warrior, powerful and naked to the waist, calmly grabbed the reins of both horses.
“Who—what—?” Adam sputtered as fear gnawed at him. “What do you want?” Nat took charge.
“Grey Eagle.” The Indian pointed to himself. “You come.” He pointed to Adam, then Nat. “Son sick, maybe die. Running Deer no die! You medicine man. Make well.”
In bits and pieces they learned Grey Eagle’s story. When the tribes had been rounded up and forced to go on reservations, a small band refused and hid in the vast wildness of the Wind River area. The government could spare neither the time nor troops to find and capture the wily group. They moved from time to time and lived as their ancestors had lived for hundreds of years, free and drifting.
Grey Eagle, who seemed to know more about the area’s happenings than the Birchfields, had discovered the presence of a white medicine man in Antelope. He had tucked the information away, perhaps never intending to use it. In desperation, he refused to accept the death sentence his tribe’s medicine man prescribed and now stood before Adam on behalf of his son.
“You go with me. Both go.”
Adam didn’t hesitate a moment. “Of course we’ll go with you, Grey Eagle. When I became a doctor I promised to go anywhere and to anyone who needed me.” He held out his hand to show his good faith.
The dull black eyes glowed with dark fire and Grey Eagle took Adam’s hand. “No tell where you go?”
Adam looked at Nat who quietly explained, “Grey Eagle is putting the safety of his tribe in our hands.” With slow movements he loosened the catch of his saddlebag and took out his worn black Bible. “Grey Eagle, do you know what this is?”
“Great Spirit book.”
Nat nodded. “My brother and I pledge by the Great Spirit we call God not to tell.” He placed his and Adam’s hands on the Bible.
Grey Eagle grunted and the semblance of a smile creased his aged, angular face. Without a word he slid into a cluster of trees and reappeared riding a shaggy horse, his only saddle a worn blanket. “Come.”
Hours later they reached their destination, a cragbound valley only the tribe who called it home or an eagle on the wing could find. Ice-cold water bubbled from a spring, so cold Adam’s teeth ached when he flung himself to the banks and drank. Spring flowers sent thrusts of color through the rich, green grass. A dozen tepees made up the village and horses grazed nearby. Grey Eagle led the brothers to the largest tepee. Wailing sounds sent chills through Adam. Had they come too late? He followed Grey Eagle and Nat into the smoky interior. A stripling Indian lay on a bed of rich skins. Sweat glistened on his copper skin. The look in his eyes when he turned toward his father pierced Adam’s heart. Terror, pain, and hope combined in the age-old expression that binds father and son.
“White medicine man.” A sinewy arm drew Adam nearer.
A cry of rage from the howling Indian medicine man was cut short with a single wave of Grey Eagle’s mighty arm.
“Clear everyone out,” Adam ordered Nat with such authority in his voice the huddle of Indians silently obeyed without question.
Adam quickly examined Running Deer. “You’ll have to help, Nat.” His lips felt stiff. “We’ve got a red-hot appendix.”
“Not again!”
Adam nodded. “Just like Mrs. Hardwick.” He pressed the lower right area of Running Deer’s abdomen. A moan of pain escaped the tightly clenched teeth.
“Make you well.” Grey Eagle stood to one side, his arms folded across his chest. A muscle in his drawn face showed his love for his only son, now lying defenseless against the white medicine man’s probing.
Adam straightened and fearlessly looked into the dark wells of Grey Eagle’s eyes that had seen bloodshed and peace, sunrise and sunset. “I will do all I can and my brother will ask the Great Spirit to help me.”
“Bad spirit in son.”
“We must let it out.” Adam compressed his lips. What a setting for his second emergency appendectomy since reaching the Wyoming Territory! He quickly made what preparations he could, calling for boiling water and the tepee flap left open for extra light. Then with the most fervent prayer he had ever offered, he began.
Grey Eagle unflinchingly watched the thin red line that followed Adam’s initial incision. He gave not a sign of inner turmoil yet both Adam and Nat knew how torn he must be. To go against his medicine man’s advice, to let a white man cut his son, had been a terrible decision.
Again the years of training and prayers met to triumph. Again, the diseased appendix burst, but outside of the patient. Humility and thankfulness filled Adam and he quickly sutured and bandaged. “Nat, I want you to go back and leave me here for a few days. I have to be sure Running Deer gets the proper care.” Adam stretched to full height. “Grey Eagle, I believe your son will live but I want to stay with him.”
Grey Eagle solemnly nodded and turned toward the open tepee flap. “Tell tribe.” A string of unfamiliar phrases followed his exit from the makeshift operating room.
“Why don’t I stay, too?” Nat frowned.
“And miss your Sunday services? Antelope would have a search party out!” exclaimed Adam as he washed his stained hands in the clean water Nat brought. “Give me a week, will you? If anything’s going to develop, it will by then.” He watched Nat ride off with Grey Eagle, who would make sure he could find his way back, then called a warning. “Don’t tell everything. Just say I’m staying with an out of town patient, will you?”
Nat signaled and disappeared after Grey Eagle.
Of all the experiences so far, the week in the small and hidden Indian camp affected Adam most deeply. Running Deer’s young body healed incredibly fast. Adam spoke through him and his father to the old medicine man and pleased the ancient by carefully listening to what he had to say. Certain herbs and primitive knowledge made good medical sense and he gratefully expressed his appreciation. By the time Nat returned, Adam felt a certain reluctance to leave, although eager to get back to their own place. When they did go, they carried the pledge of the tribe’s eternal friendship and gratitude.
Adam had also found time to think while in the hidden village. The problem he’d concealed from Nat came out into the open of Adam’s mind and had to be dealt with. Ivy Ann’s face danced in the firelit shadows, but so did another. After prayer and much consideration, Adam set his jaw firmly. The showdown with Ivy Ann had to come soon, for both their sakes.
Laurel had, as Nat said, settled into Antelope the way a broody hen settles into her nest. Her moments of homesickness had little chance against the enticement of spring in the Wyoming Territory. Although sensible enough to know part of the masculine attention could be credited to lack of competition, she couldn’t help rejoicing over the unqualified approval of most single Antelope males. She treated them all alike, to Dan Sharpe’s chagrin and Mrs. Terry’s secret delight, and she never acted like Ivy Ann to anyone except Adam—and only when she remembered.
Sally Mae and the few other girls loved Laurel in spite of their jealousy. As Sally Mae told her brother Mark, who was one of Laurel’s most faithful admirers, “It’d be different if she was flirty or stuckup. She’s just nice to everyone.”
The only real flaw in Laurel’s world except for running away from her beloved Red Cedars was the weight of deceiving Adam. It pricked at her like an imbedded splinter. Soon, she often promised herself, but days and then weeks passed and she still had not confessed to Adam and asked his forgiveness.
During that time the respect and attraction that had lighted a tiny fire in her heart grew into the steady flame of love. Although Adam could not suspect it, he had no rivals for Laurel, alias Ivy Ann. She also saw in his eyes when she caught his gaze in unguarded moments a growing feeling and she thanked God for it.
Widow Terry’s business took a surprising jump after Laurel signed on as her apprentice. “You’re my best advertisement,” Mrs. Terry told the young woman. She eyed the tiny frills around the high neck and long sleeves of Laurel’s work gown.
Laurel laughed. “Back home we—I learned to make the best of what we had and make sure I took care of it! New gowns can’t compete with the need for new tools, seed, and all the things that wear out on a big farm.” She industriously leaned closer to the window to catch a final gleam of daylight. The soft glow of lamplight didn’t offer adequate light for the tiny stitches necessary to finish Mrs. Hardwick’s new Sunday dress, a dark blue gown with fine tucks and a wisp of braid on the collar.
“Ivy Ann?”
Something in Mrs. Terry’s voice stilled the flying fingers. “Yes?” She felt guilty answering to the name she’d never claimed.
Dull red suffused the gaunt face. “I don’t want to pry but hasn’t Dan Sharpe been around an awful lot lately?” She rushed on, obviously eager not to offend. “Some of the other boys come too, but….”
Laurel sighed. “I can’t very well ask Dan not to drop by. I avoid him when I can and turn down twice as many of his invitations as I accept.” She impatiently shook her head until a light brown curl escaped its mooring and hung over her forehead, making her look like a troubled little girl.
“I know, child.” Mrs. Terry took up the child’s dress she had cut out earlier then folded it and put it away. “Tomorrow’s time enough for this.” Her sigh matched Laurel’s and her kind face seemed strange without her quick smile. “I guess as long as you aren’t spoken for the boys won’t leave you alone.”
Laurel felt warmth steal into her cheeks. She bent her head, wishing she could confide in her new friend but rejecting the idea immediately. Not until she settled things with Adam could she tell anyone else. She pretended far more interest in setting the final stitches in the gown than she felt. “There! Dear Mrs. Hardwick will get a lot of service out of this dress and I know she’ll look nice in it.”
The keen-eyed dressmaker took the garment from Laurel and examined every seam and the set of the sleeves. “If I’d known what a good apprentice I’d get, why, I reckon I’d have sent back to West Virginia for you long ago!” She smiled roguishly. “But I s’pose a handsome young doctor is a better reason to come West than an old lady like me.”
“You aren’t old and I love you.” Laurel hugged Mrs. Terry. Her words and actions so flustered the widow the subject changed, as Laurel intended it would.
Only to Laurel did Nat confide his and Adam’s adventure with Chief Grey Eagle and his people. She had learned to appreciate Antelope’s minister and gloried in the fact that as Adam grew older, the same sterling qualities would deepen in his own life. Her first letter home actually spoke more about Nat than Adam. She praised his dedication to duty and devotion to his Lord and merely said Adam stayed extremely busy supporting his brother’s spiritual ministry with physical healing. So when Nat called one evening while Adam was still in the hidden village, she gladly walked with him and thrilled to his tale.
“What’s it like, the Indian village, I mean?” Laurel’s sincerity loosened Nat’s tongue.
“It’s located in probably the most beautiful spot in Wyoming, inaccessible except to those who know the way. Even after going and coming back, guided by Grey Eagle, I’ll have to look sharp when I go back for Adam. He could have simply had Grey Eagle guide him but he wants me to pack in a few luxuries for the tribe—candy, bright cloth, that kind of thing.”
She stopped short, her heart pounding at her own daring. “Take me with you when you go. I’d love to see the camp and meet Grey Eagle and Running Deer and their people.” She clasped his arm with both hands.
For a moment she thought he’d agree but then he shook his head. Regret clouded his eyes. “I can’t, Ivy Ann. I’m sorry.”
“Why?” she persisted. “Don’t you think I can ride or hike that far?”
He threw his head back and laughed in the way the Birchfield men did when highly amused. “Gracious, it isn’t that. Antelope’s rampant with stories of your horsemanship.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Did you really beat Dan Sharpe in a race a few days ago?”
“Who told you?” She clapped her hand to her mouth then joined in his laughter. Pride lent a tilt to her chin, a sparkle to her mobile face. “He was so sure he could beat me he offered me a headstart. I told him I needed no favors.” She blushed, remembering how Dan suggested a wager, a silver dollar against a kiss. She had coldly told him she didn’t wager, then beat him in the race by a full three feet.
Now she returned to her teasing. “Please take me.”
Nat shook his head again, more decidedly this time. “Adam and I gave our word we would not reveal where the camp lies. I couldn’t break that promise, although I’m sure you would enjoy the hard climb and scenery.” A new thought brightened his face. “Tell you what. When I see Grey Eagle again I’ll ask him for permission to have you visit the camp sometime. There’s no guarantee he will agree but I can ask.”
“Tell him he has nothing to fear from me,” she said earnestly.
“I don’t know about that.” Nat’s laughing mouth reminded her of Adam’s. “According to Mark Justice and some of the other boys you are mighty dangerous. Seems a rash of heart trouble has broken out since you came.”
His meaning brought floods of color to Laurel’s neck and face. She controlled the desire to retort and meekly suggested, “Perhaps they should consult Dr. Birchfield.”
“Perhaps they should,” he blandly agreed, and Laurel wondered if the innocent words held a subtle, hidden warning.
On a soft spring evening a week after Adam came back to Antelope he called on Laurel. For the first time he seemed restless and uneasy. After a short while Mrs. Terry took up her bonnet and decided to “visit Mrs. Greer for a spell.”
Disturbed by the change in Adam, Laurel couldn’t help dreading the inevitable conversation that must follow. Somehow he must have discovered her deception. Perhaps Ivy Ann had written, not knowing her twin’s masquerade. Yet through the dread came relief. At least things would be clear between them.
“I have something I must tell you,” Adam began. Embarrassment colored his tanned face. “It’s hard to say without sounding pompous.”
“Ivy Ann, I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. You are so different from the girl I met in West Virginia. But I have to be honest with you, even though you may despise me for it. I hope we can continue to be friends. “His voice underscored the word.
“You seemed so bound to your home that I never dreamed you’d come to the Wyoming Territory. Since you arrived I’ve tried to convince myself—Ivy Ann, when you used to write to me your sister always included a message. At first I had the two of you all mixed up together.” He drew in a long breath and stood to full height.
“What I’m trying to say is that I do admire you, especially since you’ve become part of Antelope. But I’ve had time to think. I know now I fell in love with Laurel the first time I saw her. I don’t know if she would ever consider me or leave West Virginia, but maybe someday.” He looked at her bent head. “Forgive me if in any way I’ve hurt you, Ivy Ann.”
He loves me. He wants to marry me.
Laurel wanted to shout it to the peaks and let them echo back to the valley. Exquisite delight she hadn’t known existed burst into a beautiful flower.
But it died on its stalk, frozen by reality. Ivy Ann still stood between them. Not a flesh and blood Ivy Ann, but the shadowy twin whose name Laurel wore like a crown of thorns.