Cowboy Creek Christmas. Cheryl St.John

was seated far enough away to give Marlys, her patient and the girl’s mother privacy, but close enough to interpret. He got to his feet and stretched his legs. “What if I go back, keep August with Hannah and me overnight and come back in the morning?”

      “I’ve learned enough words to communicate well enough,” Marlys agreed.

      Sam ran a hand through his hair. Short of throwing her over his shoulder, he wasn’t going to get her to go back until she was ready. He might have figured as much. He glanced at the other children in the lodge, at James and back to Marlys. He raised a hand in defeat. “All right.”

      She hurried toward him. “Thank you.”

      “You didn’t leave me much choice. Let James know if there’s anything you want him to bring tomorrow. James, I’m going to get the basket of food. You’ll eat with us before you leave.”

      Once the basket was opened, the curious children crept from their places and sat close. Sam broke off pieces of rye bread and piled them into a woven bowl. He gave away all the hardtack, and James passed on it, as well. In the Army, he’d eaten enough of the tasteless unleavened biscuits to last him a lifetime. The Cheyenne youngsters got over their shyness to accept the food and join them. Marlys unwrapped smoked fish, and the aroma drew the women forward, too.

      The Cheyenne women gave their guests wooden bowls of roasted game and tender cooked roots. Marlys cut a dried apple pie into a dozen slivers, so each child and mother had a tiny piece.

      James made them a pot of coffee with a dented pot he carried in his saddlebags, emptied it and packed to leave. “I’ll bring more food in morning.”

      Sam walked to the edge of the camp with him.

      “Nothing else we could’ve done,” James said.

      “She’s immovable when she has her mind made up. I’ll pay you double.”

      “Once we got here it didn’t seem like a job,” James admitted. “After seeing those children, I was thankful she planned this.”

      Sam couldn’t disagree. “Safe trip home. Please tell August I’m well, not to worry, and I will be home tomorrow.”

      He watched James ride away, said a prayer for his safety and another for August to feel safe that night, and trudged back to the lodge.

      After the meal was cleared away, Marlys continued her examinations of the other children. None were as sick as Little Deer, and some were only there with a sibling who suffered from symptoms. She Knows had settled onto a pallet of furs, her watchful gaze on Marlys, but had seemingly acknowledged the white woman was there to help.

      Marlys and Blue Water bathed Little Deer one more time as night fell. The child roused this time and watched Marlys with uncertain black eyes. Her mother spoke softly, soothing her. They had her settled for the night when a brave entered the lodge and swiftly crossed to the child’s side. He knelt beside her and spoke to Blue Water. She replied, and the Indian’s eyes settled on Marlys, taking in her hair, her now-wrinkled apron and the array of her supplies.

      He returned his attention to what Marlys now assumed was his daughter, and gently touched her face and hands. The girl’s temperature had cooled considerably, but she was still warm. After a few minutes he left.

      After tending to the fire, the mothers settled their children down for the night and lay beside them.

      Marlys gave Little Deer more water and another dose of the remedy she’d prepared. Blue Water unrolled two pallets and gestured to Marlys and Sam.

      “Néá’ee,” Marlys thanked her.

      She glanced at Sam.

      “I’m not leaving you alone,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”

      “Nor do I want you to go.”

      He slid one of the pallets several feet away from hers, in plain sight of all the women, and stretched out on top of the comfortable furs.

      He listened more than watched as Marlys washed her face and hands and used what looked like a porcupine tail that one of the women handed her on her hair. She was a curiosity. She didn’t conform to what their society would consider feminine fashion. Her hair was uncommonly short, and her clothing functional and undecorated. He’d never seen her wear jewelry or drench herself in perfume. Instead, she smelled always like lavender and hyssop and other natural scents. Her movements, her voice, everything about her was feminine, even without ornamentation or fripperies.

      Back during their short engagement in Philadelphia, they had discussed literature and politics, and he’d learned she was intelligent. She’d never hidden her desire for education or her interest in medicine, so he’d understood her ambition. But he’d never seen her as she’d been today. Fearless. Impervious. Undeterred. Compassionate. Kind.

      He reeled those thoughts in as soon as they’d slipped into his consciousness. This was the woman who had broken off their engagement because of her ambitions. She didn’t have time or patience for a relationship. She wasn’t inclined to set her career aside and focus on a marriage. It was plain that she was still as determined as ever to broaden her scope of understanding and knowledge, to discover as much of the world as was possible.

      People were who they were. She couldn’t be expected to change for him. He hadn’t expected it then. He didn’t expect it now.

      She had needed his help to travel here, to make this happen. Another protector would have done just as well. She didn’t specifically need Sam.

      That fact reached a nearly forgotten, well-guarded portion of his heart and carved a fresh slice. He closed his eyes against the shimmer of her hair in the firelight. The interior of this lodge was surprisingly warm, the skins beneath him soft. He dozed and dreamed of summer during his childhood.

      * * *

      Marlys slept lightly, checking on Little Deer and finding her sleeping more restfully. Before dawn she woke to sounds of the community outside the tipi and went to find the child’s fever gone. “Thank You, Lord.”

      She woke Blue Water by gently touching her shoulder. The woman’s dark eyes opened in fear, and she sat, her terrified gaze darting to her child.

      “No, she’s better,” Marlys told her. “Come see. Ho’eohe.”

      The woman scrambled from her bed and leaned over Little Deer. She touched her face and neck, rolled back her covering and examined her arms and legs. Tears of joy formed in her eyes, and when she looked at Marlys, they fell unheeded. “Néá’ee. Éévaéše’tovóho.”

      She touched her breast with the tips of her fingers and then touched Marlys’s chest.

      Marlys smiled. She didn’t need a translator to understand Blue Water’s mother’s heart was grateful. She was no different than any other mother of any other people or skin color. Her heart was no different. Love knew no boundaries. Love translated into any language.

      Sam and the other Cheyenne in the lodge woke and came near to see what was happening for themselves. She Knows shuffled forward in her fur boots, and Blue Water helped her lower herself to sit beside the child. She listened to her heart. Listened to her breathing, looked in her mouth, examined the bottom of her feet. She turned and spoke to one of the older children.

      He pulled on a robe and darted from the tipi. Several minutes later he returned with Little Deer’s father and the chief. Woodrow Black Snake held a conversation with She Knows and Blue Water. They all nodded and gestured. He exited as suddenly as he’d arrived. Sam left the lodge while the Cheyenne mothers washed and groomed themselves and their children.

      Blue Water brought Marlys fragrant mint water and twigs and indicated she should brush her teeth. She and another woman they called Neha brushed Marlys’s hair, while coating the strands with an unknown substance they lathered on their hands. They spoke in hushed tones, and Marlys guessed they wondered why her hair was cut so short. The process was disconcerting. Marlys’s mother had died when she was very young, and