Rain Shadow(19)

She combed the braids from her hair with her fingers and brushed its  length until it crackled. With unusually clumsy fingers she attempted an  upswept style, but the heavy black tresses fell across her shoulders.

Caressing the skirt with flattened palms, she wished she had a mirror.  Brush and hairpins in hand, she peeked from the tent flap. No one in  sight. If she ran now, she could use a mirror in the house before anyone  spotted her.

The kitchen was deserted as usual. In her hurry, she dropped her  hairbrush on the stairs and had to hop down after it. Reaching the hall,  the door to the room Slade used was closed. "Slade?"

"Yeah, Ma?"

She entered and studied the two boys. Her son sat back against the  pillows, and Nikolaus popped up from the other side of the bed and  stared at her. Both of them breathed as though they'd run a foot race.  "What are you two doing?"

"Playing."

"Why are you out of breath?"

"We was seeing who could hold their breath the longest. Mama, you look pretty!"

"Were seeing who could hold their breath the longest, and thank you."

She stepped to the mirror over Anton's low chest of drawers and surveyed  the different woman staring back at her. Why, she looked like any one  of the young women who'd been at the Neubauers' barn dance. Except for  her face and hands, tanned as they were from going unprotected in the  sun. Now able to watch her hands, she attempted another coil on the back  of her head, and this time it stayed.

"Where you going dressed like that?" her son asked.

"I'm not going anywhere. I was practicing."

The boys laughed, as if women in general were silly.

"Are you hungry?"

"Nope."

"Does your leg hurt?"

"Yeah, but playing with Nikolaus helps me forget."

"Thank you for keeping Slade company, Nikolaus."

The boys exchanged glances.

The checkered skirt billowed ahead of her with each step down the  stairway, her knees jerking the fabric upward in funny bumps.  Underclothing was a new and odd feeling. What was the white man's  expression about trying to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear? If she  felt this strange, how would she appear to others?

The enormous kitchen was the perfect stage to spin in a circle and feel  the material swirl around her legs and calves. A wonderful chill breeze  caught her dress as she sprinted down the porch steps and across the  dooryard.                       
       
           



       

More lighthearted than she'd been in weeks, she spotted the rope swing dangling from the ancient oak and scampered toward it.

"Rain Shadow?"

One hand on the rope, she swung around.

Anton strode toward her.

"From a distance I thought you were Annette."

Self-consciously, she fingered the high collar of her blouse. A gust of  wind flattened her skirt against her thighs. Daring to meet his eyes,  she found him studying her face. Did he think she was trying to be  something she wasn't? "Well, what do you think?"

Her heart slammed against her rib cage as she waited for his reply.

"The dress looks nice." The wind ruffled his sandy hair. "A big change,  but pretty." I think if you were staying in Pennsylvania I'd ask you to  marry me. I'd lay you down right here on the grass and wrinkle your  pretty dress.

Relieved, she smiled.

"Aren't you cold?"

"No, I just came from the house. The boys were behaving strangely."

"Strange for boys or strange for humans in general?"

Just under his prickly surface a sense of humor lurked. She smiled.

Her waist was so narrow he could span it with his hands. A strand of  black hair whipped from its loose coil and streamed in the breeze.  Definitely an improvement over those trousers and boots. His gaze  automatically slipped to her feet. Beaded moccasins completed the  ensemble, and he smiled to himself, somehow assured that the woman he  thought he knew hadn't completely disappeared.

"I don't have any shoes."

Her full lips were naturally the color of a summer rose, and the crisp  air had kissed a complimentary pink tint into her cheeks. Looking at her  wasn't healthy. He had enough problems without adding an indefinable  attraction to this little peach. Abruptly, he turned. "I have work to  do."

She backed onto the wooden seat of the swing and watched him stride  away. Was wearing this dress like trying to turn pigweed into an orchid?  That niggling shred of insecurity wouldn't go to sleep. Why hadn't her  family ever tried to find her? Was she somehow unworthy of her true  heritage?

Rain Shadow looked at her moccasined feet beneath the checkered skirt,  symbols of the two people she was inside. What if her people never  claimed her? She and Slade might be the only real family either would  ever have. The breeze seemed colder now, less friendly.

She stood. It wouldn't happen that way. Why was she suddenly doubting  what she'd been so certain of before she'd come here? Determinedly, Rain  Shadow pushed the negative thoughts from her mind. It was only a matter  of time. She headed for her lodge, leaving the swing swaying.

* * *

Doc limped away from Slade's bedside and washed his hands in the water  Rain Shadow had provided. "I think you can move him to your tent now,  since you're itching to." He turned and picked up his leather bag. "That  leg's still healing, and too much weight on it for prolonged periods  won't be good, so keep him resting as much as possible, but let 'im get  up and move around some-as long as he takes it easy."

"Thank you, Doctor. Slade, isn't that good news?" She brushed his hair from his temple. "You can move out to our lodge."

Her son slumped against the pillows, his chin digging against his chest  in a dark pout, and stared at a spot on her vest. "I guess so."

"What-wait a minute," she said with a frown. "I'll see the doctor out."

At the door, she thanked him, pressing a roll of paper money into his hand.

"It's more than we agreed on," he objected.

"Barely. You had a long ride several times a week to see Slade. I want to repay you for your time."

He nodded and ambled down the porch steps to his buggy.

Whatever was the matter with Slade? She intended to get to the bottom of  his sulkiness. Why wasn't he pleased at getting better? She ran up the  stairs, her booted feet sounding her return. "Slade." Rain Shadow  perched on the high bed's edge. "Why aren't you happy about the doctor's  news?"

He shrugged. Nikolaus slipped from the room.

"I've missed sleeping in our lodge. Not that I minded staying inside with you, but this isn't our home."                       
       
           



       

His obsidian gaze shot to her face. "I wish it were."

She sat, silenced. Hurt.

"I like it here, sleeping in this big bed and playing with Nikolaus. Sometimes we pretend we're brothers."

A dreadful ache closed around her heart. She studied the narrow face of  the son she loved with all her heart, the son she wanted to give the  best of everything and watch grow up to be independent and fulfilled.  "We can't stay here forever, Slade. It's better if you don't let  yourself like it too much. We will leave when your leg is well."

"I know." He bunched the coverlet into a knot at his hip and pounded it  with his fist once, twice, three times. "But would it hurt to make it  last as long as it can before we have to go? I know this ain't our  house-"

"Isn't our-"

"Isn't our house and Nikolaus ain-isn't my brother, Ma. I just want to  act like it while we're here. Like when we act out the attacks on the  settler's cabin and the stagecoach. It's not real, but it's fun. When  it's over, we can go back to our real life just like in the show."

Powerless, Rain Shadow read the hunger in her son's eyes. Just as she'd  feared, he'd grown attached to the Neubauers and their stable country  life. Maybe she needed to face what she would do if no family claimed  them. Maybe if this was the only shred of familial security Slade would  ever experience, it would be cruel of her not to allow him the temporary  pleasure.

"Rain Shadow!" Anton's voice echoed up the stairwell. "Somebody here to see you!"

She hugged Slade soundly. "I'll be back, and we'll finish our talk."

Braid bouncing against her breast, she descended the stairs. On the  first landing, one dusty booted foot on the bottom stair, his expression  unreadable, Anton gripped the handrail and waited, face raised. Sun  streaked through the high window and gilded his hair and skin. Tall and  lean, shirtsleeves folded back over corded forearms, the sight of him  made her think of solid things, of home and security and waking up in  the same place every morning. She was struck by how appealing he was in  his golden way, like sunrise on an autumn morning. How well she  understood Slade's envious dreams of staying here forever. She had to  swallow conflicting emotions to keep her poise.