The Ruination of Essie Sparks (Wild Western Rogues Series, Book 2) (17 page)

They looked for caves or any kind of shelter, but what they came upon, in the wee hours of the morning, defied all expectation. There, in the distance, sheltered in a canyon, surrounded by thick pines and nearly invisible, sat a handful of tepees with smoke rising in the rain. Cade pulled Náhkohe to a stop as an owl's cry cut through the sound of the rain. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of an armed brave, perched on the high knoll, watching them. Down in the camp, the flap of a tepee opened and a gray-haired Indian emerged holding a gun. He pointed it directly at them. Cade raised his hand and shouted something to him in Cheyenne. The old man lowered his gun and shouted something back, motioning him in.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"Old friends." He nudged Náhkohe forward. "Part of Little Coyote's band. But since Little Coyote went into exile for killing one of his own, they've been at loose ends. This is a hunting party. Stay beside me. Say nothing."

Others emerged in the rain to help as he lowered her off the horse, then slid off himself, nearly falling on his bad leg. Two men moved to help Cade. A woman, not much older than Essie, took Náhkohe's reins and led him toward a makeshift paddock. Cade called after the woman, something about the horse, and she nodded, but not before sending a suspicious, downright hostile look in Essie's direction.

As the men helped Cade into the tepee the old man had emerged from, Cade turned to motion her to follow. "Come, Essie."

She was cold through and through and could not stop shivering, but this scenario was not one she'd been prepared for. The old man's woman held the flap and motioned her in, as well. She looked younger than the old man by a decade, but gray tinged her hair nonetheless. In her day, she'd been beautiful, Essie mused, but the years had taken their toll on her. If she felt the same hatred toward Essie the younger woman had, the older one thankfully checked it. Essie supposed Cade had vouched for her, but then again, this place was obviously a renegade camp. They could not be happy that a white woman had stumbled upon them.

Swallowing hard, she ducked under the tepee flap and into surprising warmth. Cade was already being lowered atop a buffalo-hide-covered pallet. The woman turned to pour something warm into two bowls as she grumbled to herself. She handed one to Cade and one to Essie.

"
Nomēne
," the woman told her.

"Drink," Cade translated as he peeled off the soaked deerskin shirt he wore with an effort. "It will warm you. And when you are done, take off those wet things."

Instantly, she backed up. "No!"

The woman looked at her askance and began grumbling in Cheyenne again, this time to Cade.

"I couldn't." Essie crossed her arms over herself. "Not here. Not in front of them."
Or you.
Water dripped from her hair onto her nose. She wiped it with one hand.

"Don't argue, Essie. You'll catch your death."

"If I don't die first of humiliation," she muttered under her breath, her hands still shaking so hard the broth spilled out of her bowl. She took a sip, then another of the rich soup and felt it instantly, deliciously warm her insides. She'd almost forgotten how hungry she was. If that was possible.

Purposefully, she kept her gaze from Cade, who was being helped off with his leggings by the old man who'd welcomed them before he covered Cade with a worn woolen blanket.

As she listened to them converse in Cheyenne, a beautiful language, full of sibilant sounds and gulped vowels, she glanced around the tepee. Around a center fire sat their few worldly belongings. They were poor-looking, but organized neatly. Buffalo fur beds were spread at the edges of the hide walls. A drying rack occupied a small space, hung with thin strips of some kind of meat. Ancient saddles and bridles sat propped beside the second pallet, along with several lidded, woven baskets and pots. Everything was in its place here.

Everything but her.

Seeing Cade slip so easily into this world reminded her that he was, indeed, one of them. Despite those things they shared in common, he seemed more at home here than he ever would in the white world. Hearing him speak Cheyenne made her feel all the worse for denying that language to the children at the school. It must have been like losing a limb to be forbidden to speak the language one was born to.

At least these people had no idea who she was or where she'd come from.

Even as she had that thought, Cade spoke her name in their conversation and they turned to look her way.

The old woman muttered near the fire, putting in her two cents, while aiming a few of her comments clearly at Essie.

Cade must have seen her discomfort, because he said, "I asked them if they'd seen Little Wolf. They haven't. I told them you were his teacher and you were helping me find him."

"You told them who I am?" She shot a look at the woman near the fire. "Oh, Cade—"

"These two, Red Moon and Walks Along Woman, are cousins of my mother. They are family. You are welcome here as my woman."

Essie felt herself blush. As his woman? Her breath caught in her throat and her already thudding heart beat faster. Of course, he'd simply called her that to protect her. Hadn't he? Of course.

Their eyes met over the fire. His suddenly dark gaze lingered on her for a heated moment before sliding away.

That look made her remember his kiss again, as she'd been doing all night. The memory sent a wave of confusion through her. God help her, she wanted another kiss and perhaps another after that. She wanted to taste him again and feel him hold her, now that death was not at their doorstep. And, unaccountably, it didn't matter that those feelings made no sense. He had dragged her into another world up here in these mountains, a world that had little to do with the one she'd inhabited only a few days ago. She felt as if the moorings of her old life had been torn away and somehow, she'd been liberated.

But to think of such things here, now, when these people were sharing what little food they had, struck her as foolish. Even self-indulgent. It was nothing more than a fantasy to think anything good could come of this mess. His people—so beaten down yet so proud—hated her people and certainly hers felt the same. They belonged to opposite camps, firmly entrenched in their fear of one another.

And yet, these two had welcomed her into their home. She wondered, honestly, if her people—if she
had
people—would do the same for Cade.

Truth be told, the point was moot. He had done nothing but regret taking her since the moment they'd ridden away from that school. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, he would return her to her world and leave her there. She would be on her own again in a place where no one seemed to want anything from her and where she didn't really belong.

She finished the warm soup and set the bowl down beside the woman. The soup was the first thing she'd eaten in a day and her belly still felt empty. "
Hahóo
," she said softly, thanking the woman with one of the few words she knew in Cheyenne.

The old woman flicked a surprised look up at her, then at Cade, before shrugging with a nod. She lifted a worn blanket from beside the bed opposite the doorway and shook it out, then held it up like a curtain for Essie to undress behind.

"
Hahóo
," she repeated and proceeded to pull off her clothes. The soaked fabric sucked at her skin and made wet noises as she dropped them on the floor. When she'd finished, Walks Along Woman wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and Essie pulled it tight. She nodded her thanks to the woman who made some comment to Cade, who was lying under a similar blanket now.

"What did she say?" Essie whispered.

"She says you are skinny, like a buffalo calf. With no meat on your bones."

Self-conscious, she tightened the blanket around her.

"She wonders if
you've
been in the agency camps, too."

Starving. That's what she meant. Along with the rest of the Cheyenne.

Essie glanced at the woman, embarrassed now, and moved closer to Cade. "Did you tell them about the men following us?"

"Red Moon has already posted more guards."

She shook her head with regret. "We've brought trouble right to them."

"The rain has covered our tracks. At least I hope so. But we've evened up the odds. At least for a few hours." What little strength Cade had left was fading.

She hoped he was right. "What about your leg?"

He gave an involuntary shiver. "Walks Along is making a poultice. But mostly I need rest. We both do." He lifted up the buffalo robe beside him and gestured for her to climb in.

Naked!

Still shivering with cold, she thought nothing looked more inviting than that thick, warm buffalo robe, but she couldn't... she absolutely couldn't—

"And they're giving up their bed for us."

"Oh, but, no. I couldn't take their bed! That would be—"

"Rude to turn down such a gift." Cade met her eyes then with a warning.

Red Moon and Walks Along seemed half amused, half alarmed by their argument and spoke softly to each other in urgent whispers that she couldn't understand. Walks Along wrung out a warm cloth, soaked in some herbs she'd thrown into a pot of water over the fire. She headed toward Cade with the poultice. As she uncovered his bare leg to the thigh, Essie could see the redness around the wound beyond the burn she'd given him. It could be worse, she thought, but it looked painful. Walks Along carefully wrapped the cloth around his thigh. Cade squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled sharply.

"Be careful," Essie warned, but of course, Walks Along politely ignored her.

Getting to her feet, Walks Along mumbled something to Cade and shook her head as she joined her husband on the other pallet and settled into bed. Cautiously, Cade slid under the buffalo robe now, leaving the thin, wool blanket aside.

Still clutching the blanket, Essie felt for the locket at her neck. The metal felt as cold as she did. Though she was grateful they'd found shelter, she felt as out of place here as a thistle in a field of moss.

"Will you get under the covers?" Cade said. "There are still a few hours until dawn."

What difference did it make now if she slept beside him naked? She'd seen all of him before and was already a fallen woman, according to Laddner. How much further could she fall? And if they blamed her for surviving, then let them cast aspersions. No one seemed to give a fig about her survival except Cade Blackthorn.

"Fine." Still wrapped in the blanket, she shimmied under the buffalo robe beside him and pulled it up to her chin. "But I'm keeping my blanket."

"Suit yourself. There are better ways to get warm."

"Don't even try..." she warned under her breath and rolled so her back was to him.

Beside her, he sighed. Exhaustion and frustration colored that sound, and for a few minutes they lay still beside one another, listening to the crickets—or maybe they were frogs—chirping in the rain. Soon, Red Moon's gentle snores joined the mix. Still, Essie couldn't stop shivering. She'd probably never been as exhausted as she was right now, on the verge of a complete breakdown as the night's events played back in her mind. But she couldn't relax. How close they'd come to dying!

And, more ironically, to
living
for the first time. She felt tears sting the backs of her eyes and she snuffled into the blanket wrapped around her hands.

Cade rolled toward her then and pulled her against him, into the crook of his big, warm body, wrapping his arm around her and tucking his hand against hers. She froze for a moment there in his arms, but it was no use fighting. And soon, she found herself leaning into his warmth.

"S-so cold," she whispered.

"Shhh," he said against her ear, his warm breath in her hair. "You will be all right,
Mo'onahe
."

The frogs chirped and whirred into the still night. Her shivering slowed and she felt her tension soften like warm tallow against him.

"What does that mean?
Mo'onahe
?" She whispered it awkwardly; wrongly, she supposed. "You called me that before."

"It means"—he rubbed her fingers with his own—"beauty. Now close your eyes. Rest."

But that word,
Mo'onahe
, sang in her ears for a long time after, snuggled there against him in the dark. She found the locket at her throat and tucked it between her fingers. And just before she dropped into a dreamless sleep, she thought,
I am a fool
.

* * *

They slept that night and part of the next day. And after Essie awoke, she let Cade sleep more. Twice, Walks Along Woman dressed the wound on his leg as he slept, wrapping it with herbs in a poultice, but even that didn't wake him. The last few days had taken a toll on him that had left him exhausted and weak.

As for Essie, with her clothes finally dry, she dressed that morning under a blanket. She watched him sleep, accepted food and companionable silence from Walks Along. She heard Red Moon and several of the other men ride out of camp late that morning. They were gone for hours and returned with nothing but small game, which his wife cleaned near the fire. Out of sympathy for Essie's uselessness, she gave her the job of hanging the sliced-up meat on the drying rack near the fire. She did so gratefully and without complaint.