Rain Shadow(7)

Slade appeared to consider the possibility. At last he broke the  expectant silence. "I got lots of friends, what with the show and all  the places I been and all, but I guess I can have one more."

"Aw'right!" Nikolaus raced through the doorway with a whoop.

* * *

The doctor showed up shortly after noon the next day. Rain Shadow waited  anxiously as he tended the patients in the other rooms, proclaiming  them well enough to be transferred. Encouraged, she followed him into  the bedroom Slade occupied. The man walked with a marked limp, his  movements abrupt. After a terse examination, he placed his instruments  in his black bag.

"He's doing fine." His voice was gentler than his gruff appearance and demeanor led her to imagine.

Encouraged, she asked, "May I move him out to my lodge?"

"Not just yet. That was a nasty break, and the least movement the better for healing."

Slade would have to stay. Her spirits fell. She'd planned taking him out  of the Neubauer's house as soon as possible. The imposition didn't rest  comfortably. She wanted Slade in the security and familiarity of their  lodge.

She met her son's ebony gaze. He was bored and hurting. His toes had swollen and turned black and blue.

The doctor picked up his bag and left the room without a farewell.

Rain Shadow stared after him, her slim hopes dashed. The trains were  leaving for winter quarters in a few days. She and Slade would not be on  one. What was this going to do to her plans? Guiltily, she swallowed  her selfish concern. Slade's well-being was most important, of course.  She'd speak with Two Feathers about going on without them. She frowned  at the unpleasant thought.

This was merely a snag in her tightly woven strategy. She bolstered  herself, smoothing Slade's black hair away from his forehead. She could  roll with the punches. She would practice every day. She didn't need the  fancy setups, and as soon as Slade's leg improved they could take  another train. She'd still be ready for an exhibition and contest with  Annie in the spring.                       
       
           



       

It was simply a matter of time.

* * *

That evening Rain Shadow arranged tin plates in a semicircle near the  fire, comfortable in her lodge, pleased to have a familiar task to  perform. Annette had been relieved to spend time with her own family,  and preparing a meal for the Neubauers was small payment for the care  and lodging they had provided for Slade. This was her element, something  she knew, something she did well and took pride in.

The fact that Rain Shadow was unable to move Slade to their lodge still  nettled. She would be obliged to the Neubauers for an uncertain length  of time, not only obliged but forced to spend time in their home. She  was torn between her discomfort in their house and wanting to be with  her son.

Another niggle of concern finally pierced her consciousness. She wanted  to be accepted in the world of the whites. How would that ever happen  when she was so uncomfortable in the home of these whites? She couldn't  explain her unease. The tense feelings were understandable because the  environment was all unfamiliar, but they were disconcerting as well.

The flap parted, and Two Feathers entered.

"Father," she said in greeting. Her heart grew warm as always by the familiar sight of his craggy face.

"Daughter." He stepped to the right as was the custom and took his place before the fire. "Slade rests."

She glanced toward the flap. "The Neubauers?"

"They follow."

She nodded and retrieved baked sweet potatoes from the coals. A sound outside brought her head up.

"Enter," Two Feathers welcomed.

Johann appeared first. He was a tall, handsome man like his sons. His  skin testified to years of sun and weather, deep smile lines bracketing  the corners of his faded blue eyes. At Two Feathers' gesture, Johann  took a seat near the fire.

Anton and his son entered together. Anton wore a fresh white shirt, its  sleeves rolled back over his corded forearms. His flaxen hair was damp  and combed from his face in sun-streaked waves. He glanced around the  inside of the lodge, and his scrutiny brought Rain Shadow's defenses  into play. She couldn't help wondering what he was thinking. In  comparison to his home and room, their things no doubt seemed meager to  him, but on the move, as they were, they had no need for more. She had  never gone hungry or without clothing. Will Cody had great respect for  the Indian population, and treated and paid them well. She and Two  Feathers had traveled with the Wild West Show since its first  performance in Omaha eleven years ago.

Anton's cobalt blue gaze rested on her, and she had to force herself not  to look away. He seemed to take stock of her as he had the lodge.

She'd never had occasion to care what someone else thought of her. She'd  always been accepted for her ability as a horsewoman and sharpshooter.  Anton Neubauer knew none of those things about her. He saw only a woman.  She had to deal with him on a level she wasn't prepared to examine.

"Sit," Two Feathers invited.

Leading Nikolaus to a spot near his pa, Anton watched Rain Shadow dish  food onto tin plates. Mouth-watering aromas had set his stomach to  rumbling as soon as he'd entered the tent. The chickens cooked on a spit  over the fire were golden brown. He hadn't eaten chicken like that  since he was a boy.

The young woman worked gracefully, with deft, efficient movements,  serving his father first. The doeskin garment she wore lent a soft,  feminine appeal to her already pleasing shape. Long fringe at the hem  and armholes swayed with her every movement, caressing honey-colored  skin. Her knee-high moccasins appeared worn and comfortable, the tops  visible only when she knelt and the fringe parted.

"Thank you." Anton accepted the plate and biscuits she handed him.  Nikolaus, echoing his appreciation, sat in awe of his surroundings and  the two strangers.

She served her father, then took her food and sat near him. The two sat  companionably side by side, knees touching, as though they'd shared many  meals together. The old man she called her father was unquestionably  Indian, handsome in a dark, compelling manner. He carried himself  straight, his chin high, with proud mannerisms of a man who knew his  worth. His copper-skinned face, wrinkled from years beneath the sun, was  thoughtful and deliberate.                       
       
           



       

Two Feathers was dressed as many of the Indians had been dressed that  morning, deerskin pants, a flannel shirt and a vest. A kerchief banded  his forehead, holding his flowing black hair in place. Beads and bears'  claws hung from a leather thong around his neck.

Rain Shadow lifted her gaze from her plate and stared at Anton  questioningly. He realized he hadn't tasted the food. Biting into the  generous portion of breast she had given him, he chewed and looked up in  surprise. He'd assumed she'd cleaned one of the birds that ran loose in  their dooryard. "This isn't chicken!"

"It's grouse. Don't you like it?"

"I like it," he assured her quickly, noting the edge to her voice. "It's just that I thought-I figured...

"That I stole your chickens?"

"No." He glanced at her father, then his. Both ate placidly, refusing to look up.

"You assumed they were your chickens," she said, her chin lifted.

He hadn't actually given it a whole lot of thought. The chickens were  there, they ate 'em. A fact of life. "It wouldn't have been stealing."

"They aren't my chickens."

The conversation had gotten out of hand, and he wasn't sure how. "Well,  it's good." He demonstrated by taking another bite and chewing.

The wild sweet potatoes were tender and delicious, and she served them  each a handful of roasted nuts. She must have gone foraging today, and  her father had obviously trapped the birds. Briefly, Anton considered  telling her he appreciated how much trouble she'd gone to, but her  reaction to his last comment silenced him.

After the meal, Two Feathers produced a long pipe from one of the many  bundles around the perimeter of the tepee. He tamped tobacco into the  bowl and lit it. Johann accepted the pipe in turn.

Anton studied their portable dwelling while Rain Shadow cleared away the  remains of the food. Three remarkably large trunks were stowed on one  side. Each had a lid, several drawers and locks. Robes and blankets made  up one pile. Jugs, baskets and a few pans were stacked neatly alongside  lanterns and several wooden crates. Just inside the opening was a  sizable stack of firewood, and hanging from the interior was a  ragged-edged hide with tiny pictures and symbols spiraling in a line  from the center outward. Those he easily recognized as horses, birds and  tepees.

"It's a calendar," she offered.