A Lone Star Christmas Read online

  Because Rebecca was driving a wagon instead of riding a horse, she had been alternating her apparel, wearing pants one day and a dress the next. As luck would have it, she had chosen this day to wear a dress, a choice that turned out to be unfortunate for her.

  Maria was keeping the sacks wet, so that not only Rebecca and Sally, but Tom and Dalton also were carrying wet sacks with them. That helped as they beat out the errant little tongues of flame which managed to escape the back-fire line and retreat down one of the seams, or jump across the break to take up new residence.

  Rebecca, in turning to extinguish a new outbreak of flames behind her, inadvertently swept her skirt across a clump of burning grass and set it aflame. Because she was intent upon her work, running from one outbreak of flame to another, and with the smoke and smell of fire all about her, she was totally unaware of what had happened.

  Tom saw it, and moving quickly, wrapped a wet sack around her. Startled, and still unaware of the flaming skirt, Rebecca called out in shock.

  “Tom! What are you doing?”

  “Your dress was on fire,” Tom said.

  Rebecca looked down to inspect the damage done to her dress. When she raised up again, her face was pale.

  “Oh, Tom, I ...”

  Tom saw that she was about to faint and he moved toward her quickly, catching her before she fell. She leaned into him, and as he held her, he could feel her heart beating rapidly. He remembered once having picked up a bird with a wounded wing. The little bird’s heart was beating rapidly, and it looked at him with eyes full of fear. He had felt nothing but compassion for that bird, and wished with all his heart he could comfort it, let it know that it had nothing to fear from him.

  He felt that way now about Rebecca, holding her to him, wishing that he could turn time back a few months and start over with her. He knelt down, bringing her down with him, lying her down on the ground, with her face up. He then positioned her across his lap so that her heart was above her head, and her feet above her heart. After that, he tilted her head to one side to reduce the risk of her swallowing her own tongue.

  “Yeah! Oh yeah!” Dusty shouted.

  Tom looked to see what Dusty was shouting about, and saw that the back-fire was now well on the way to meeting the approaching fires, leaving behind it a long, very wide strip of black from the charred grass. As the fires met, there would no longer be fuel to sustain them, and they would quickly burn out. The herd was no longer in danger.

  “Oh!” Rebecca said, coming to. She looked up at him, suddenly realizing that she was lying, for the most part, on his lap.

  “Oh!” she said. “Oh, what happened?”

  “You fainted,” Tom said.

  “I must get up.” She struggled to do so, but Tom restrained her. He restrained her gently, but he did restrain her.

  “Get up slowly,” he said. “Other wise you could pass out again.”

  She stopped struggling, then he got up, reached down, and helped her up.

  A little unsteady on her feet, she fell into him again, and he held her tightly for a long moment.

  “Are you all right?” Tom asked after a moment.

  “Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Rebecca said. “You saved my life, didn’t you?”

  Tom smiled at her. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “But I might have kept you from getting a painful burn.”

  Rebecca put her arms around his neck to steady herself. As she did so, their lips came in close proximity as they had before when he set her down from the horse. That time, the unexpected flushing of a quail stopped them. Nothing stopped them this time, and he pulled her to him, crushing his lips against hers.

  Rebecca was pleasantly surprised by the kiss, and she reacted to it with a heat that thrilled her to her soul. The kiss went on, much longer than she would have thought, until, finally, it was Tom who broke off the kiss.

  Rebecca felt as limp as a rag doll, and she looked at him with her senses reeling.

  “I’m sorry,” Tom said, self-consciously. “I had no right to do that.”

  “Oh, Tom,” Rebecca said. “You have every right. Don’t you know that?”

  “We should get back to the camp.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Indian territory, December 5

  The day after the fire, as they were having their breakfast they were surprised to look up and see an Indian, his face lined with age and wizened with experience. The Indian was standing less than ten feet away.

  Clay smiled. “Ashki,” he said. “I see that you are still able to walk like a bird.”

  “You did not hear?” Ashki asked.

  “I did not.”

  “You did not see me?”

  “I did not.”

  Ashki smiled. “I am old,” he said. “But still I can walk like a warrior.”

  “Would you like breakfast?” Sally asked.

  Ashki made a motion of drinking. “Coffee,” he said.

  Sally poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “Won’t you try a biscuit?”

  “Biscuit has no taste,” Ashki said.

  “Sally, offer him a sinker,” Smoke said.

  Sally gave the Indian a doughnut. He held it to his nose, sniffed, held it out and looked at it for a long moment before he took a tentative taste. At the first taste a huge smile spread across his face, and he nodded.

  “It is good, this sinker,” he said as he took another bite. “Do you have tobacco?”

  “Do you think I would come through Indian Territory without tobacco for my friend?” Clay asked. He walked over to the hoodlum wagon and searched around inside for a moment, then came back with a pouch and an envelope. “This ought to be enough tobacco to last you for a month or two,” he said. “And here is another gift for you.” Clay handed Ashki the envelope.

  Ashki looked inside, then looked up with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Little white papers? Why do you give me little white papers?”

  “Let me show you,” Clay said.

  Clay took one of the little papers, lay it along his forefinger and index finger, curled it, then filled in some tobacco from a small bag. He rolled the paper closed, licked the side, then put it in his mouth and lit it.

  “With these you can make a cigarette,” he said. “You won’t have to use your pipe.”

  “A pipe you can share with others. How do you share the little papers with others? How do you care for it?”

  Clay shook his head. “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to share it with others, because everyone else can have one of their own,” he said. “And there is nothing to care for. It burns up as you smoke it. After you smoke it, it’s all gone. There is nothing left.”

  “It is the way of the people to share the pipe with others,” Ashki said. He pulled his pipe from a small bag he had hanging from a rawhide cord tied around his waist. “From my father, I got this pipe,” he said. “He got it from his father, and from his father before him. To my son I will give this pipe, and to his son and to his son. Can you do this with a paper pipe?”

  Smoke laughed. “He’s got you there, Clay.”

  “I can’t deny that,” Clay said.

  Ashki filled his pipe, lit it, then, as his head was wreathed in smoke, he looked out at the herd. He pointed to the cattle.

  “Are they buffalo?”

  “Buffalo? No, they aren’t buffalo,” Clay said. “Ashki, you have been around buffalo all your life. You know that isn’t buffalo.”

  “It is being said that you are taking buffalo from our land,” Ashki said. “There are many who want to make trouble for you, but I told them that I do not think you are taking buffalo.”

  “Why would they think we are taking buffalo?” Clay asked.

  “Because the cows are black,” Smoke said.

  “Yeah,” Clay said. “I guess you are right. I guess from a distance, someone might think that. But they would have to think that they were awfully small buffalo.”

  “Dohate thinks yo
u are stealing buffalo,” Ashki said. “I told him I do not think so, but he would not listen. He has gathered many. I think he will make war with you soon.”

  “Make war with us?” Clay replied quickly. “Ashki, are you telling me we are going to be attacked by Indians?”

  “I think this is so,” Ashki said.

  “How many?”

  Ashki opened and closed his hand three times.

  “Fifteen?”

  “Fifteen,” Ashki said.

  “Where will they be?”

  “At the place of the Yellow Hair Fight,” Ashki said.

  “Do you know where that is?” Smoke asked.

  “Yes, he’s talking about the Washita River. That’s, where Custer and Black Kettle had their fight. That’s about five miles south of here,” Clay said. “I guess Dohate thinks it would be strong medicine to hit us there.”

  “Do you know this man, Dohate?” Falcon asked.

  “Yeah, I know him. I’ve had to pay him a toll every time we’ve come through here. Generally three or four cows is enough. Sometimes a horse or two. Which reminds me, Ashki, do you have a horse?” Clay asked.

  “No.”

  “Dusty, give our friend a horse from Mo’s string.”

  “Come along, Ashki,” Dusty said.

  As Dusty led Ashki over to the remuda to give him a horse, the others discussed their options.

  “How hard would it be to go around the Washita?” Tom asked.

  “There are only so many places where you can ford a herd this size,” Clay said. “It would add at least two weeks, maybe longer, if we tried to go around.”

  “They say forewarned is forearmed,” Matt said. “Why don’t we attack them before they attack us?”

  “Why attack him at all?” Tom asked.

  “You heard the Indian, Tom,” Dalton said. “We don’t have any choice.”

  “Dalton is right,” Clay added. “It’s either attack or be attacked, and I’d much rather attack. That way we control when, and where the fight is.”

  “But you said that you know him, that you have dealt with him before. As I understood Ashki, Dohate’s biggest bone of contention with us seems to be that he thinks we are taking buffalo from them. Why don’t we leave the herd here and buy him off with a few cows? That way he will know we are not herding buffalo.”

  “Tom has a point,” Smoke said. “If we can show him that we aren’t stealing buffalo, then we might be able to get out of this without a fight. I’ll cut out three or four cows and go meet him.”

  “No,” Tom said.

  The others looked at Tom in surprise.

  “What do you mean, no? This was your idea,” Clay said.

  “I don’t think that Smoke, or Falcon, or any of the rest of you should go. I think I should go, and I think I should go alone.”

  “Why would you say something like that? What if you are wrong? You wouldn’t have a chance against them, all by yourself.”

  “That’s exactly why I should be the one to go,” Tom said. “If I am wrong, and it comes to an actual armed confrontation, who would you rather have wielding a gun in your defense? Smoke Jensen? Or me?”

  “You’re not making one lick of sense,” Clay said.

  “Yes, he is,” Dusty said. “And you all know it.”

  The others looked at each other and, for a long moment, not one person spoke.

  “Clay, tell him he is foolish,” Rebecca said, a catch of fear in her voice.

  “I am not being foolish, Rebecca,” Tom said, calmly. “Clearly, I am the most expendable of this group.”

  “No, you aren’t expendable!” Rebecca said. “Not to me, you aren’t.”

  “Rebecca,” Tom said. “This has to be done.”

  “Tom, have you ever had any dealings with Indians?” Smoke asked.

  “No. But I have dealt with people in stressful situations. And I’m not one who loses his head easily.”

  “No, from what I have seen of you, I wouldn’t think that you would. Clay, you know Dohate, so why don’t you cut out a few cows, how many ever you think it will take? I’ll give Tom a quick course on dealing with Indians.”

  “All right,” Clay said. “Dusty, you and Dalton want to cut the cows out? Pick out three.”

  “Put a bell on the lead cow,” Tom said. “And string a rope between them.”

  “Why do that?” Clay asked. “If you are only taking three cows with you, they won’t be that hard to drive.”

  “If they were buffalo, could you bell the leader and string a line between them?” Tom asked.

  “Not unless you wanted to get yourself trampled,” Clay said, then, as soon as he answered the question, he realized the point Tom was making, and he smiled. “I see what you mean,” he said. “You aren’t just book smart, are you? When they see you coming toward them that way, they aren’t likely to think you’re leading buffalo.”

  “All right, while they’re rounding up the cows for you, let’s talk about Indians,” Smoke said. “First lesson is, when you are talking to one, look him directly in the eye. If he can’t see into your eyes, he won’t be able to fathom your medicine. And Indians set a great store by medicine. The stronger your medicine is, the more willing they are to listen to you.”

  “All right,” Tom answered.

  “Generally, the first one to talk to you won’t be the leader. Pay attention, you’ll be able to tell who the leader is, so when you start negotiating, that’s the one you want to negotiate with. And, this is important. Don’t ask who is the leader, you have to figure that out on your own. If you do that, he will take it as a compliment, meaning that his leadership is so evident that even a stranger can pick it up.”

  “How will I find them?” Tom asked. “I mean, I know they are at the Washita, but how will I find them?”

  “You won’t have to find them. They’ll find you,” Smoke said.

  “All right,” Tom said again.

  “It may be that they will all come toward you, especially since you will be alone, but more than likely, they’ll leave a few behind. And, as they come toward you, greet them like this.”

  Smoke held his arm up, crooked at the elbow, with the palm facing out.

  “That will show them that you have come in peace.”

  “Do you really say ‘how’, when you meet an Indian?” Tom asked.

  Smoke chuckled. “That’s close enough,” he said. “Actually, the word is ‘hau’.” Smoke put a guttural phrasing to the word that made it more distinctive, though it was close enough to ‘how’ that Tom could see where that came from.

  “Should he take his pistol, or leave it behind?” Clay asked.

  “Well of course he is going to take a pistol,” Rebecca said. “You are sending him out to face the Indians alone. Would you send him unarmed as well?”

  “I will not take a pistol,” Tom said.

  “Why not?” Rebecca asked.

  “Think about it,” Tom said. “If they want to kill me, there is nothing I could do about it, even if I had a pistol, especially considering how many of them there are, and how ineffective I am with such a weapon. On the other if I face them without a weapon, they might perceive that as being without fear.”

  “Tom does have a point, Rebecca,” Smoke said.

  “I do have one more question,” Tom said.

  “What’s that?”

  “You said I should show them that my medicine is strong. How do I do that?”

  Smoke sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “That one will be hard, but you are going to have to do it.”

  “How?”

  “It is important, no, let’s say it is vital, that you show no fear. No matter what they do, you must not show fear.”

  “Do you think you can do that, Tom?” Clay asked.

  “Nobody can show no fear at all,” Rebecca said, anxiously.

  “I can do it,” Tom said.

  “Tom, no, you know you—”

  “Rebecca, look at me,” Tom said.

  Rebecca looke
d at him.

  “I can do it,” Tom said resolutely.

  Dusty and Dalton returned then with the three cows, tied together by one long rope. And as Tom had requested, a bell had been attached to the lead cow. Tom started toward his horse.

  “No,” Clay said. “Don’t take that horse, take Thunder. I’ve seen you ride, Tom,” Clay said. “Maybe you can’t shoot, but I’ve never seen anyone who could ride better than you, and on Thunder I doubt there is an Indian in the territory who could catch you. If it looks like things aren’t going to go the way you think they should, you put spurs in Thunder’s side and get the hell out of there.”

  “Now that is the most intelligent thing I’ve heard yet,” Rebecca said.

  “I’ll get Thunder saddled for you, Tom,” Dalton said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Dalton, wait,” Clay called. “I seem to recall that Dohate has a taste for horehound candy. I know you got some while we were in Dodge. Do you have any left?”

  Dalton was a little embarrassed by the question. He had bought some, but he wanted to keep it secret, not to prevent any of the others from having any, but because he was afraid they would think it was childish.

  “Yeah, I’ve got some left,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “After you get Thunder saddled, give some of it to Tom. He might have a use for it.”

  “All right,” Dalton agreed.

  “Tom?” Rebecca called.

  Rebecca turned and walked toward the wagon, indicating that she wanted him to come to her. He did.

  “Rebecca, you aren’t going to be able to talk me out of this,” Tom said.

  “I know,” she said. “So I won’t even try.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you love me, Tom?”

  “Rebecca, this hardly seems the time or place for us to discuss something like this.”

  “I will ask you again, very slowly, and very distinctly. Do—you—love—me—Tom? It’s not a hard question.”

  “Rebecca, there are things about my past that you don’t know,” Tom said. He held up his hands and looked at them. It was as if he could still see the blood.

  “I don’t care about your past, Tom. I only care about now,” Rebecca said. “I know that you are not who you seem to be. I know you are not a cowboy. I know you are not a Westerner. I know that you have an education, a wonderful education, more than anyone I have ever known. And I know that you must have come from a life that is very different from this one. And whatever it was that made you give up that life must have been something very significant. I don’t know what it was and I don’t care what it was.