Chapter Eight

It seemed weeks, not days, since they’d cobbled together a travois and hauled Kade back to the cabin.

Blind Deer tried all the medicine she knew to comfort and heal him, and although his fever burned less hot, he wandered back and forth between this world and the next. His recovery would take time—time they did not have to spare. Someone had to get the trade goods to rendezvous.

Last night Tucket and she had discussed the situation. She thought the matter resolved, but as she stood near the corral in the chill morning air, Tucket’s expression indicated otherwise.

“We will be fine.” Did she sound convincing? Her promise was built more on bravado than conviction. Tucket remained silent.

Since their recent ordeal, the three of them were bound together in such a special way, it seemed unnatural for any one of them to be separated from the other two. But she could not take the furs to trade. Tucket had to go.

“Well, at least there be plenty of firewood.” Tucket chuckled and glanced around. “I remember the mornin’ young Kade chopped that wood.”

“Me too.” Blind Deer’s neck and cheeks burned hot at the memory of not only the day, but the kisses they had shared.

“I will take good care of him, Tucket.”

“On that there ain’t no doubt in my mind, Blind Deer. You risked your life for him goin’ down into that hole. I expect you’ll do right by him again should the need arise.”

Still the man hesitated.

“The elk hanging in the meat house will feed us well, and no one will bother us out here. They will all be racing you to rendezvous. Now go before it is too late to start today. And may the God of your choice go with you.”

Mounted on Hattie, Tucket sat staring at the cabin. Kade had rallied yesterday, and Tucket had said his goodbyes, although it had been hard to tell if Kade understood the full meaning of things.

The older man reached down and chucked her under the chin. “You be one of the family now, gal. That means I’m leavin’ behind the two people in this world most important to me. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to either one of you.”

“And Kade will never forgive either of us if you don’t get the best price for those hides. Please go.”

She handed Tucket the lead to the string of mules and HBC horses going with him. Before he could see the tears in her eyes, Blind Deer swatted the rump of his mule, sending the animal and Tucket on their way. Having any tears left came as a surprise. Just to look at Kade made her weep.

Tucket turned around once. “Keep your powder dry,” he called, giving her a wave goodbye. Then his steadfast form blurred and disappeared.

She stood alone beneath a tall pine, the quiet seeping in all around her until it blanketed everything, but not with warmth. The hair at the back of her neck prickled, and she ran for the cabin.

Stoking the fire, she set a kettle of water to boil to use for tending the wound on Kade’s thigh—and for a cup of tea to bolster her strength.

Drinking tea was one of the few white man’s customs she enjoyed. And drinking tea in the wilderness especially made her smile. She liked to sip it from a dented tin cup, often-times sitting on the front porch, feet up, her clay pipe in the other hand. What would those prim, white gloved, fancy teacup-toting ladies of St. Louis think of that? The very idea brightened her mood, until she returned to Kade’s bedside.

His skin felt too warm again. She washed his face and neck with cool water, and then made a willow bark infusion for him. She worried over him like a mother with a sick child. He was becoming too important in her life. In the end caring for someone brought heartache.

Having been torn away from everyone she’d ever loved, the pain ran deep, almost too deep to rise above. Would Kade also be snatched from her side? Would she lose him too? Could she survive another loss?

One fist raised in the air, she stood in the center of the cabin and defied the fates. “I will not give him up.” She all but screamed out the words. When no signs of retribution struck her down, her shoulders relaxed, and cup in hand she returned to Kade’s side.

Like a sculpted statue, he lay unmoving. Thank goodness he took what liquid she forced between his lips, but these miniscule feedings could not sustain him for long.

“McCauley, open your eyes and come back to me.” She spoke encouragingly as she set the empty cup aside, and gathered items to see to his injuries, “I am running out of amusing things to talk about. I may have to sing to you—and I have been told my singing is comparable to the sounds of a marauding crow. Not very poetic, but a most enlightening picture.”

With supplies she would need arranged nearby, she drew the covers down to his waist and gently massaged the bruised flesh on his shoulder. After she twisted it back into place, the swelling had gone down considerably. She had seen the elders do the same for one of her brothers following his fall from a horse. At least Kade’s shoulder should heal properly.

Her hand drifted across his body, her fingers tracing his muscled chest. “I once saw a white man with so much hair he resembled a beast. You could have woven a blanket just from the hair on his back. Never have I seen that among the people of my tribe. This leads me to believe the Salishan have progressed further beyond the animals. But do not worry—you have just the right amount of fur.”

Her gaze slid lower. What would it be like to caress him in other places? She might be uncertain as to how her heart felt about Kade, but she knew exactly how her body felt about the man. For those few moments when he’d held her close and kissed her, desire had overruled common sense. This feeling held great power. It was new—it was dangerous.

Keeping him modestly covered, she tended the wound on his right thigh, already showing signs of healing. But the leg remained worrisome. Although not broken, at least not that she could tell, it had been unnaturally twisted. Tucket and she had straightened it before applying a new splint. Now she loosened the straps holding the sticks. There was much bruising, and while his forehead often felt too hot, his leg felt too cold. She rubbed the muscles with a sage and mullein infused oil, massaging deeply, sometimes none too gently, trying to bring a more healthy color to the skin.

“Ow. That hurts.”

She jumped back, one hand pressed to her chest to calm her fiercely beating heart.

“By the saints they made me pray to, you scared me half to death. How do you feel?”

“My leg hurts, but somehow feels dead, and I can’t move it. What in blue blazes happened?”

“Tucket says a cache connected to the den of a mountain cat collapsed, taking you deep into the ground. You hit your head, cut your thigh, dislocated your shoulder, and twisted your leg.”

“Is that all? The way I feel I thought maybe I was also dragged behind a mule for a mile or two.”

“You were. That is how we got you back to the cabin.” She re-tied the splint, leaving his thigh uncovered. “Do not worry. Except for many bruises the rest of you appears very fit.”

As the tone and meaning of her words sank in, Kade ran his left hand down beneath the covers. He was stark naked.

“Did you like what you saw?”

“I think it would have been more fun had you been awake.”

At her answer, Kade raised a brow as if in surprise, then gave a little smile.

“Where is Tucket?” Apparently Kade didn’t remember saying goodbye, and his voice, now filled with worry, sounded weaker.

“He left this morning, taking the hides to the gathering.”

“Not alone. He shouldn’t go alone.”

When he tried to rise, she placed a restraining hand on Kade’s chest.

“There was no choice. You are still far from ready to travel.”

He fell back onto the bed, pale and exhausted, illustrating her point.

“Three days have passed since your injury. It was a hard decision—a brave decision. Your friend did not wish to leave you.”

Shifting her attention back to his thigh, she sprinkled pulverized roots of yellow dock on the laceration, followed by conifer resin. He gave a little yelp, and his leg twitched. The stinging of the medicine should momentarily take his mind off Tucket. And the movement was a good sign. Not all feeling had left the extremity.

When he remained silent, she glanced at his face. He stared back, his eyes overly bright, his cheek flushed. Fever still remained their enemy. She remembered the shaman who would dance come the winter, praying and singing for hours, sometime days, gathering their power then healing the sick. If only one of them were here. She had no such ability and could not even build a suitable sweat lodge to drive the illness from him.

Bandaging the leg injury with a strip of clean cotton, she drew the covers up to his chin. “You need more willow bark. And if you stay awake, you can eat more than tea.”

“How is it you’re so handy at doctoring people?” He rallied and appeared more alert.

This was a good memory at least. “My grandmother took me into the mountains one summer. I was barely old enough to expertly ride and care for my pony. For three days we ate nothing but what the forest gave us. She taught me of the herbs and plants and how to use them.

“She told me stories about the old days. We grew very close. She prayed for my spirit guide to visit me during our journey, but he did not come. She said not to blame myself. It was not my fault I was only half Indian.

“Then growing up, my mother taught me of the white man’s medicine. She told me her God didn’t care if I was only half white.”

“I remember now you telling me and Tucket about your momma being white.” He sighed. “And that’s where you got those beautiful green eyes.” Almost a whisper, his last words sounded like something he’d pondered before.

“My eyes are a color prized among my people. But they were no gift to me. I cannot see well.” There, she’d done it, revealed her greatest weakness.

He didn’t appear surprised. “I wondered that day by the river. And the name is a pretty big hint.”

She laughed at his teasing. “Maybe I should have stuck with Belinda Dearborn. The name the missionaries gave me.”

“No. Promise you won’t. That’s not who you are. Besides, I like Blind Deer.”

His words pleased her greatly. She tried not to let it show. “Tucket is an unusual name. Is it not?”

“Indeed it is. Kind of short for the fact he spent a lot of time in Nantucket. Truth be told, he’s from Louisiana. But he keeps that a secret, fearing folks might shorten that too, and call him Louise.”

She couldn’t decide whether that could be true, or if Kade was just trying to make her laugh. He seemed to enjoy doing so. A good quality in a man.

“How did your mother come to live with your tribe?”

He was also very inquisitive—maybe not such a good quality. But Kade’s honesty about how he’d lost his family and met Tucket, gave her the confidence to open up, at least a little. The idea of telling the tale to Kade in comparison to telling Lord Seton felt completely different—back then an act of desperation, now a gift of sharing.

****

“Well I’m not surprised the Blackfoot were involved.” Kade shook his head then added, “She sounds like one courageous lady. Did the thought of leaving never enter her mind?”

Why did everyone always ask that?

“Never. She was happy, with a brave husband and three strong sons. Then they had me. The willful child. I did not wish to come out head first.”

“I guess you were wayward and independent from the very beginning.” Some of his words were slurred, and he closed his eyes.

“Yes. Now you must finish the tea and rest.”

With encouragement, he finished a second cup of willow bark tea, and when she added another blanket to comfort him, he dozed off almost immediately. She fetched the last of the hot water and made herself a cup of tea. Sitting in a chair beside him, she sipped and pondered. Never before had she trusted anyone enough to reveal so much of her life.

After a while, Kade became restless, and knowing her voice calmed him, she rambled on about whatever came to mind.

“My brothers all favored father—no one would mistake them for anything but Indian. But I favored mother. My hair is not true black, and it curls when it rains.” She rose and collected Kade’s buckskins and her sewing bundle. “My thoughts were often troubled as I tried to live in both worlds—two languages, two religions, two ways of thinking and being. I wished there had been two of me like my twin brothers. Each of my parents loved me, and I wished to please them both.”

Returning to the chair, she put awl and sinew to use, salvaging Kade’s linen shirt and repairing the seams in his leather pants. The ones they cut apart when they removed his clothing. But he needed new moccasins. His old ones were worn thin—and they smelled of rot and death from the panther den. She would start on those tomorrow.

As she worked, she glanced around the little cabin. “And now I am here.” Her words came out in a gentle sigh. “Unable to find my people—and unwilling to return to the East. Once again, I am lost between two worlds.”

“Not lost, Blind Deer,” Kade mumbled. “I found you.”

****

Tucket glanced back one last time at the towering white peaks reaching for the sky and the lodgepole pines standing sentry on the trace. He sure felt bad leavin’ Kade and Blind Deer behind.

Hopefully the side of elk would hold them over until Kade was up and about. It hadn’t been a very big animal. Had it been wrong turning a portion of it into jerky for the trail? He’d be to rendezvous in four or five days. There was bound to be game along the way. But with the possibility of unfriendlies around, it was best not to be drawing attention to one’s self by clamoring about and throwin’ fire without good cause.

Too late now anyway.

He faced forward and hunched down into the saddle. The hooves of his mule made soft rhythmic thuds on the trail, and the horses and pack animals added their various jingles and jangles to the song of their passing.

Beyond the muted sounds of animals and forest, a silence settled over everything like a layer of morning fog. Solitude—the one thing he’d missed during his years of whaling. Even though the view from the rail could be the loneliest thing a man could imagine, on a ship full of sailors, a man could never be alone. He was glad to be on dry land.

The taking of those behemoths was nasty business, and hard on the soul. He was starting to feel the same way about beavering. Killing an animal for food was one thing but killing to keep some rich bastard’s head warm back East was another.

Things was getting crowded too. Used to be a man could wander about out here and rarely cross paths with another human being. And the year was measured by the comings and goings of the moon and the changing of the seasons. Now it was near impossible to find a hole Man hadn’t ruined with his greasy handprint. And the beaver weren’t the only thing disappearing. The Indian tribes were growing smaller from warring with the white man, and accordingly less friendly.

He never thought he’d see the day when westerin’ sounded more and more like a good idea. He’d heard tell the Oregon territory was something to behold—maybe it was time.

As the animals settled into an easy walk, his mind drifted. It had been a long while since this child had traveled on his lonesome. Him and Kade had shared the trail for many a year, and good ones at that—shinin` times. He smiled, recalling the scrawny boy delivered into his hands by fate. Once Kade came to grips with the loss of his family, he’d worked hard at becoming a man. Always asking questions, always wanting to learn something new, most always wanting to do things his own way.

He couldn’t imagine not being with Kade, although now there was Blind Deer to consider. They made a good match, if they could but see the obvious. Would they cotton to the idea of maybe heading west too?

Tucker revisited old adventures in his mind and thought about what the future might hold, and the morning slipped into afternoon. Then he came to attention as the path up ahead narrowed and dipped downward—a good place for an ambush. Hattie snorted and swung her head to the right, and the string of animals behind him started mincing steps and tossing heads. Something was coming through those trees. Bear, painter, wolf?

Indians.

He kept a steady pace—one hand on the loaded pistol shoved in his belt. With any luck they were Shoshone. He knew quite a few words and signs to palaver with several tribes, and the Shoshone had treated him fair in the past. Of course, alone and laden with beaver plews, he was an easy mark. If they were Siksika he was a goner—the Blackfoot weren’t much on tradin’ or makin’ small talk.

A party of four men filed out of the timber. Crow—big strapping lads, outfitted with bows and arrows, two of them also carrying spears. They appeared amiable—so far.

Tucket offered words of peace, mentioning a Crow chief’s name he’d traded with before. Just like in the city, sometimes it was who you knew that counted, more than what you knew.

They all eyed one another. Three of the braves assessed his packs and accoutrements. The apparent leader urged his horse forward blocking the trail. It wasn’t hot, but Tucket began to sweat while a wonderin’ what they were thinking.

The Crow loved horses—theirs and everybody else’s. Their penchant for them was known far and wide. They seemed to look upon accumulating animals as a challenge, or kinda the way they made their living. He cut loose the HBC mounts captured the day they found Blind Deer and made a sign he was gifting them to the men. Then he held up the bag of jerky and tossed the food to the closest brave.

The four Indians exchanged glances, and words he couldn’t quite catch. As nervous as if he waited for a hang fire, Tucket tried to remain calm. Finally, the Crow blocking the path backed up his mount, indicating for him to proceed.

Touching his heels to Hattie, Tucket gave a friendly nod, and ambled off with the pack animals. Would the horses and food be enough? He hoped by not showing fear he would win their mercy—and not an arrow in his back.

His mountain man luck held. They allowed him to pass unmolested. Indians was hard to figure. On another day he might have gone under, or at least be robbed blind. Not wasting time or daylight, when they were out of sight, he picked up the pace, putting as many miles between him and the Crow braves as possible.

It was strange doin’s in the wilderness, where keepin’ alive could depend just as much on one moment of providence as on a lifetime of learnin’.