Rain Shadow(18)

He remembered a particular Christmas morning Annette had presented Franz  with an exquisite powder blue silk shirt she'd painstakingly sewn for  him. Lydia had once used her egg money to buy Jakob a hand-tooled saddle  he'd admired. Try as he might, Anton could not recall Emily ever giving  him one single thing. Nothing.

Had he withheld as much from her? He didn't think so. He'd bought her  gifts, offered her brief trips and seen to it her life was as pleasant  and comfortable as he could make it. He rolled and punched the pillow  into a ball under his head. It did no good to go over it again now.

The memory of Nikolaus running alongside Rain Shadow came to him. He admired the woman.

Another irrepressible vision kindled warmth and a powerful yearning.  Rain Shadow had kissed him as Emily never had. The way no one ever had.

And he'd liked it.

Obviously, he'd been without a woman too long when a gun-toting female  who fancied herself an Indian could set his skin on fire. She must be  the reason he'd had the dream. Working beside her wasn't like toiling  with one of his brothers.

She'd told him to forget that kiss, and he was trying.

Oh, but he was trying.

She'd borne a child out of wedlock. Sixteen years old. Land sakes, she'd  been a mere child. What kind of man would take advantage of an innocent  young girl and then marry the first well-to-do woman who came along? A  gold digger, that's who. And she'd been left to face her father and  society and raise the child herself. He'd hadn't been exaggerating when  he'd told her she'd done a good job,

Anton gave up on sleep and rolled to his feet. This was crazy. He'd  asked Sissy Clanton to marry him, and he should be envisioning Christmas  mornings with her, wondering if she would be a good mother and wife.  Instead he lost sleep over his ill-fated relationship and a tetchy  little menace who wore pants and a Smith & Wesson and shoveled cow  dung like a man.

As Anton lit the lantern, the match burned too short, singeing his  finger. He cursed into the silence, and his irascibility felt good.  Ultimately satisfying.

And safe.

* * *

"Whoa! Them horses have to start a stampede. Let's say this one's mine."  Positioned on the floor, his good leg curled with sole touching the  knee of his splinted leg, Slade demonstrated by standing a wooden horse  on its hind legs.

"Just like Buffalo Bill, huh?" Nikolaus reared another carved figure on its wooden legs and whinnied his best horse imitation.

"Hush up or they'll come in here and see me out of bed," Slade warned in a loud whisper.

Nikolaus hunched his shoulders up to his ears and pulled a face.

"You want 'em to find out it don't hurt as bad as I let on?"

"Nope."

"I can probably stay on till winter if they don't find out. Got any more puzzles like that one we did yesterday?"                       
       
           



       

"Yup. Got a whole pile in my room."

Slade's dark eyes lit with eagerness, which immediately turned to  regret. "I wish I could go in your room. Do you have a big bed like this  one and furniture and all?"

"Yup." Absently, Nikolaus scratched his neck inside his shirt collar.  "Hey, I got a idea." His let his hand slide to the wooden floor. "Maybe  when everyone's working after lunch, we could sneak down the hall."

"Yeah? How am I going to get there? It really does hurt some, you know. I can't stand up or walk or nothin'."

Nikolaus' blue eyes scanned the room. He jumped to his feet. "I got it!  You sit on this rug." He slid the braided oval rag rug from the other  side of the bed to where his friend could see it. "Aunt Annette's got  these floors waxed so slick I can drag you clean down the hall!"

Slade's expression lit with excitement. "Aw-right!"

* * *

Two Feathers ignored the curious stares of the few townspeople gathered  on Butler's boardwalk that afternoon and tucked a brown paper-wrapped  parcel under his arm. Johann met him in front of the livery.

"Get what you wanted?"

Two Feathers nodded.

They climbed onto the seat of the springboard waiting near the hitching  post. Johann settled his dun-colored hat so the brim shaded his eyes.  "I've a hankering for some of Lydia's fresh pie. What d'ya say we make a  stop? I got her a sack of flour and some nut meats we can drop off."

His Indian friend's smile creased the corners of his wizened eyes. "I, too, have a gift for Lydia."

Johann cocked his head and peered at Two Feathers.

"I have a favor to ask of your son's wife." Two Feathers placed the  package at his feet and enjoyed the leisurely sway of the springboard as  the horses drew them toward the Neubauer homestead. The package  contained thread and needles for Lydia, and dress fabrics for his  daughter.

He'd raised Rain Shadow. He understood her. He'd seen her secret  admiration of the clothing the other women wore and knew she was afraid  to express her interest. Not only did she wish to spare his feelings,  but he sensed her uncertainty over her position. She would like to be  like the white women, but she feared failure.

It was the only thing he'd ever known her to hesitate over.

He'd watched her as a girl, fearlessly learning to ride standing  barefoot upon the back of a dappled pony. Many times he'd patched her  knees and elbows and watched her leap back on until she got it right. It  took unwavering confidence to throw a hatchet at a target six inches  from his head, but she had done it hundreds of times. Her own worth was  of more value to her than money or property. She longed for security and  comfort, but trusted only herself to provide them.

Two Feathers beheld the stand of beech trees on the horizon, dozens of  crows darting through the branches and streaking into the sky like  sparks from a fire.

"Much different here than where you're from?" Johann asked.

Two Feathers studied the sky before replying. "Different, but the same  in many ways. When I was a young brave the Dakotas were my home. There  was game...and beauty. Wakon Tanka owned the land and the sun and the  sky and shone his face upon it. Now men say they own the rivers and land  and sky because they have pieces of paper."

Johann handed him the reins and drew his pipe from inside his coat.  Thoughtfully, he tamped tobacco into the bowl and lit it. He'd always  appreciated his heritage, been proud of parents who'd come from the old  country as bond servants and earned this land that now "belonged" to him  and his sons. Looking through Two Feathers' eyes, he was an intrusion  himself. His German parents had come here to practice religious freedom  as had hundreds and thousands of immigrants, but what had that done to  the Indians' freedom?

"I'm sorry," he said at last. What could one old man do to change the loss of an entire nation?

He met Two Feathers' eyes, and an understanding passed between them.  They were old men, and it was pointless to hate or resent or pine for  what was lost. The future belonged to the young, and each had a valuable  stake in his children and grandchildren.                       
       
           



       

"Your son looks at Rain Shadow like she is the sun he has gone many summers without."

"Your Rain Shadow looks at my son like he's a piece of Lydia's pie."

The two men laughed heartily, the sound carrying across the open countryside.

Rain Shadow needed to blend into the white man's world, needed to find a  spot for herself and her son. She tried so hard and looked so far that  she'd missed the obvious. Two Feathers would help her see it.

Ever since that first stormy evening many summer ago, she had demanded  little for herself, yet given unsparingly. Rain Shadow's happiness meant  more to him than the show. More than anything under the sky. She was  his daughter. His Rain Shadow. He would do his best to give her the  desires of her heart.

* * *

Lydia was overjoyed to help Rain Shadow with the dress patterns. They  spent an afternoon cutting and basting the fabrics Two Feathers had  selected. Annette dropped by and offered material for undergarments, as  well, and the three sewed drawers and something Lydia called a shimmy.  Rain Shadow finished them herself, stitching and hemming by firelight.

While she worked, Two Feathers contentedly smoked his pipe and dozed.  She couldn't imagine her flesh-and-blood father caring for her any  better than Two Feathers had. He was a kind and honorable man. She loved  him unquestionably, and at times almost felt guilty for her curiosity  over her parents. She could never have proceeded with her plans if he  had not understood her desire to locate her family and to blend into the  white man's society.

Alone in the lodge the following afternoon, Rain Shadow tried on her  favorite new creation, a high-necked white blouse followed by a  sleeveless shirtwaist of blue and white checked taffeta silk. The full  skirt had taken nearly three yards of material and was trimmed with five  vertical bands of white taffeta. Rain Shadow spun until the skirt  blossomed out in a full circle like a flower twirled by its stem.