The Comanche Vampire (21 page)

Anne
looked shocked. “You’re kidding.”
 

Ned
shook his head. “No, it’s been out before, sometimes quite a while.
 
I think there’s a couple of steaks in there
if you
wanna
cook them for supper.”

“Beef
or buffalo?” Anne asked.

“Beef
will do.” He’d prefer buffalo but he didn’t have any on hand. “I’m hungry.”

Anne
grinned but he had no idea why until she said, “Well, wonders never cease. You
slept for hours and now you want to eat.
 
Your human nature is showing, Ned.”
 
The notion appeared to please her and although he appreciated the fact
she could joke about the very thing, which had upset her, Ned worried.
 
Sooner or later, the truth would come out,
probably in an ugly or dramatic way although he didn’t even want to imagine
how.
 
Instead of an answer, he cupped her
cheek with his ice-cold hand. “I bet I feel more like a snowman right now,” he
told her and she laughed.

By
the time he’d transferred anything perishable to the back porch, Anne had the
steaks ready, cooked to tender perfection in butter. And though Ned hadn’t
asked for any, she’d also peeled and fried some ‘taters.
 
He preferred them to French fries anytime and
grinned when he saw them on the plates.
 
“It’s ready if you are,” she told him. “Do you want to eat in the
kitchen? It’s warm now.”

“Sure.”
Heat emanated from the gas range she’d just used to make the meal. “Good thing
the stove’s too old to have electric ignition burners, huh?”

Anne
nodded. “It’s a little bit scary, but I managed to use it and light the
burners. Let’s eat.”

As
he sat down Ned noticed she’d lit a candle and placed it in the center of the
table.
 
She’d put out paper napkins,
something she must’ve bought because he wouldn’t have had any.
 
His first bite of steak delighted his taste
buds and as much as he preferred meat, the potatoes came in a close second.
 
Although he downed twice as much meat as
fried taters, Ned enjoyed the meal.
 
If
he didn’t do much more than loll around and stay warm, he probably could do
without blood another day, maybe two.
 
After that, he might be able to hold on with horse blood until the roads
cleared.
 
At the thought of his ponies,
he remembered he’d need to feed them come morning.
 
He ought to check on them, but decided he
wouldn’t.
 
The more time he spent out in
the arctic force winds, the more body heat and strength he’d use.
 
They talked about the snow as they dined, then
he smoked one cigarette while she stacked the dishes in the sink.
 
Without power, the well pump wouldn’t work,
so no more than a thin trickle of water could be coaxed through the pipes.
 
With care, they could eke out enough to make
coffee, maybe, but nothing more.

When
Anne finished, she blew out the candle. “What now?”

“If
we want to stay warm, let’s get comfortable with the hides,” Ned said.
 
Enough time had passed the kitchen wasn’t so
warm any longer.
 
He’d like to enjoy her
again, but he wasn’t sure he’d have enough energy. “We can cuddle up and talk
if you want.”

Anne
sneezed hard, twice. He thought she looked a little peaked around the eyes.
“Don’t you feel well?”

On
cue, Anne coughed, but he could see she wasn’t faking it. “I don’t feel bad,”
she said. “But I don’t feel so well, either.”

Concern
gnawed into his post-meal contentment. “Do you have a fever?” he asked as he
put one of his big paws on her forehead. Her skin seemed cool to his
touch.
 
Anne shook her head, “Oh, no, I
don’t think so. Ned, you’re sweet to worry but it’s just a nasty cold.”

“Let’s
go get warm, then,” he said.
 
After
adding wood to the fireplace, he tucked Anne between the buffalo hides and
joined her.
 
So he wouldn’t need to get up
anytime soon, he turned off the oil lamp before he did so no more than a faint
illumination came from the hearth.

“What
time is it?” Anne asked.

“I
don’t know, it’s not very late,” Ned told her. “Maybe eight or eight-thirty.”

“Really?
I’m sleepy, though. Maybe it’s my cold.”

“Probably
more like the temperatures.
 
Even animals
want to sleep when it’s this cold outside.”

“You’re
not sleepy.”

He
wasn’t, not right now. “No, but I’m used to working all night.
 
I’ll drift off, maybe, when we get
comfortable.”

“Are
you supposed to work tonight? You didn’t call in to work.”

Shit,
no, he hadn’t, Ned realized. “No, I guess not.” He’d meant to earlier but
forgot. “Can I use your phone?”

She
wiggled against him. “Yeah, I’ll have to go find it. It’s in my purse.”

“Stay
here, honey. I can find it.
 
I can
probably see better in the dark than you can.”

Ned
wallowed out and tucked the top hide over Anne. “Keep it warm for me, okay?”

“Okay.
Will the casino even be open?”

“Oh,
yeah, it’s open.
 
They never close and
it’s probably more crowded than you’d think.”

“Are
you telling them you’re snowed in?”
 

He
considered her question before he replied. “
Naw
,
because somebody will have managed to make it in no matter how much snow, or
stayed. I’ll probably lie and say I’m sick or something.”

And
he did, using Anne’s phone.
 
“How soon do
you think you’ll be back?” the manager on shift had asked, sounding harried and
hassled.
 
Ned forced out a faux cough. “I
don’t know,” he said. “I’d say soon as I can.”

As
Ned tucked the phone back into Anne’s purse, he heard her coughing.
 
A hard, dry sound to it worried him enough he
lingered and wracked his brains to remember any ways his people treated a
cough.
 
He doubted Anne would like him to
attempt to call upon the spirits or forces of nature or paint her face so he
searched the cupboards for some honey.
 
When he came back, he poured some of the thick syrup into a spoon. “Open
your mouth.” She obeyed and he stuck the utensil between her lips.
 
Anne’s hand came up to bat it away then she
tasted it. “It’ll help your cough,” he said.

After
a moment, she licked her lips. “Thanks,” she said. “Maybe so. Did you call?”

“Yeah,
I did.” He crawled beside her and took her into his arms. “If you’re tired, why
don’t you sleep?”

“I
might. What’re we doing tomorrow?”

“Probably
the same as today unless the snow melts,” Ned told her. “I’ll have to feed the
ponies sometime.”

“Maybe
we can decorate for Christmas,” Anne said.
 
He figured she was joking so he didn’t answer her and a few minutes
later, he heard the subtle shift in her breathing as she slept.

In
the morning, however, he found out she’d been serious.
 
Anne, thick-voiced and a bit hoarse with her
cold, asked if he’d get out his Christmas decorations. “It’ll be fun,” she told
him.

Ned
drank more coffee before he answered. “Anne, I don’t have any.
 
No Christmas tree, no wreath for the door, no
strings of lights, nothing.”

Her
forehead wrinkled as she frowned. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No,
I’m not.
 
Anne, I’ve never celebrated
Christmas.”

Anne
put her cup down on the kitchen table so hard he thought it might’ve cracked.
“I don’t understand why not. I thought everyone did.”

He
might not have a university education. Hell, he had no real education
recognized in the white man’s world, but he knew better than that. “They don’t,
Anne, and I never have.”

“Why
not?”

“I’m
Comanche,” he said. “We’re not super religious and traditionally we weren’t
Christian.”

“I
know a lot of Native Americans who are very devout in their faith,” Anne said.
“Didn’t your family have Christmas when you were growing up? Surely they did,
Ned!”

“No,”
he said, able to tell the truth without enhancement or omission. “They didn’t.”

“Oh,
Ned.” She sounded sorry for him and he didn’t want pity. She also sounded hurt.

“Honey,”
he began and tried to find the right words. “I’ll do whatever you want for
Christmas. I’ll go home to your folks with you and I’ll buy you a present.
 
I’ll sing holiday songs and whatever else you
want.
 
But I don’t own any Christmas
decorations and I’m not going out to buy any in this weather.”

She
made some soft snuffling sounds and he wasn’t sure if she might be congested or
crying.
 
Either way, he knew he’d managed
to upset her with his lack of holiday cheer. “But if you need cold medicine,
I’ll go to Lawton and get whatever you tell me to buy.”

Anne
tightened her arms around him. “Oh, no, I don’t want you going anywhere when
the roads are like this.
 
And I’m sorry
if I was nagging, but I’m surprised.
 
I
love you, Ned, and it doesn’t matter if you keep Christmas or not.”

“It
does if you like it.”

“I
love Christmas.”

Ned
laughed a little. “I noticed. Honey, I don’t even know much about what it’s all
supposed to mean.
 
Oh, I know the
history, the baby born in a stable was the Christ, Son of God, but I’ve never
got where all the other junk came from or how any of it connects. Or why people
put up trees and hang pretty stuff on them.
 
But it seems to be important to you, so I’ll try to get into it.”

When
she shifted position, Anne ended up with her head tucked against his shoulder.
“I’m glad and I appreciate it.
 
You know,
I’m not sure how all of it became part of the holidays.
 
The reindeer comes from a song and then a
television special, but it doesn’t matter. Christmas is really about family and
being with people you love.”

He’d
never heard it expressed in those terms but if Anne believed it, so could he.
“I can do Christmas like that, honey,” he said. “I love you and I’ll do my best
not to scare the hell out of your family.”

Ned
spoke with feigned bravado.
 
He’d do it,
go home with Anne and meet her family.
 
He’d spend a few days under their roof, mind his manners, and hope the
weather wasn’t fine.
 
Ned would do it
because he loved Anne in every way he figured a man could love a woman, but it
terrified him.
 
Being penned up tight
with a lot of ordinary humans packed potential for disaster in more ways than
he could count.

“You
won’t,” Anne said. “I think they’ll love you, Ned.”

“We’ll
see,” he replied.
 
If he’d been a praying
man, he would’ve said a prayer or two or three.
  
Instead he held Anne as she slept and coughed
and sneezed.
 
Somewhere deep into the
bottom of the night, Ned slept too.

He
woke to Anne’s harsh coughing, her body jarring against him with each
bark.
 
She sat up, choking on mucous and
put a hand to her chest. “You okay?” he asked as he propped up on one elbow.

She
shook her head. Anne coughed again. “I think I’ve got bronchitis.
 
I’ve had it before.”

Ned
placed his hand against her back when another round of coughing wracked
her.
 
He could hear the rattle of her
congested lungs with his superhuman hearing.
 
“What do you need, sugar?” he asked.

“I
don’t know.” Anne sounded petulant as a child. “Do you have any aspirin,
maybe?”

He
did, because the casino once handed out first aid kits. His remained intact, but
there were a couple of packets of aspirin. “Yeah, I think so. I’ll go get them
for you.”

When
Ned returned he found Anne on the couch.
 
Her arms folded around her body as if she must
be cold and when she lifted her head, she appeared sick.
 
Her glazed eyes revealed her misery and when
a coughing fit wracked her body, Anne trembled with the force. “Here, honey,”
he said as he handed her the tablets and a glass of water.
 
She swallowed them and tried to smile.
 
Ned put his palm across her forehead and found
it warmer than it ought to be. “I think you’re running a little fever.”

Anne
nodded. “Yeah, I think I am. I’m pretty sure it’s bronchitis.”

Although
he wasn’t entirely sure exactly what that might be, Ned knew his woman was ill.
“Listen, honey, if you need to go to the doctor I can get you there. It may
take a while, but we’ll make it.”