AN: This chapter feels rushed to me, but I'm so impatient to get on to the more intense parts of the story, I'm going to post it and maybe come back to this one later. Reviews much appreciated! Thanks to ye all for sticking with me so far! Chapter 11 Strange Visitors

Chapter 11 Strange Visitors

The rifleman was grinding corn in the yard, a work he could do while favouring his leg, when he grew aware of furious hoof beats. He reached for the rifle beside him and got up, taking the few steps toward the farm entrance.

"Lucas!"

It was Eirik, who called out loudly before he caught sight of his employer. The young man held a dirty bundle in front of him on the dun stallion. Catching sight of the tall man, he brought the horse to a stop and swung his leg over the horse's back, terribly careful of the bundle.

A darkly curled head appeared from the nondescript cloth, dark eyes regarded Lucas seriously over tear-stained, but reassuringly plump cheeks.

"Found her in the open prairie a few miles from your northern border." Eirik was out of breath – one of the few times McCain had seen him this way.

"What were you doing there?"

"I saw vultures circling and trying to land, thought maybe a calf had broken through the fence. Found this." He smiled lopsidedly. The girl clung to his shirt with chubby, dirty fingers. "She's got a few scratches from a bird of prey I'd think, but otherwise seems healthy. Can't talk much yet, only a few words here and there. But her people must be out there, she could not have walked that far alone."

"That way is not even a road." Lucas mused. "If you say she's got scratches, maybe a bird took her and carried her away?"

Eirik's frown made Lucas question his statement. "But even so, can't have been more than a few miles. I'd like to feed her and see if she can tell me anything. Maybe an accident happened?"

Without much more ado, the young man carried the girl into the living room. The only difficulty surfaced in his inability to loosen the dead grip the child had on him, and was forced to feed her a few spoons of broth while she was sitting on his lap.

Lucas had to grin involuntarily. The soft expression on his friend's face was something seldom seen… "Suits you, Eirik."

The young man gave him a dirty look in return. But the gratification of the child's trust, her eating heartily gave the lie to the stern face.

"All right, little one, can you tell me what happened? Where is your mum? Your Pa?"

The little girl only looked at him solemnly.

"Maman? Papa?" Eirik tried again, and a flicker of recognition crossed over the child's face. "Ah, so you've got French roots? Tu me comprends maintenant?"

Lucas narrowed his eyes at that. He spoke a few bits of Spanish, but the way the young man spoke French…. Ah, hadn't he said once he came from up north? Canada? The French province?

Meanwhile, the girl had let go of Eirik's shirt and began babbling, motioning with her whole body. "Woo woo. Mrrrrhmm. Iiiiieh!"

Eirik exchanged a helpless glance with the other man. "Help, you've got a son! What's she saying?"

"I thought you spoke French?"

Eirik grinned despite the dire situation. "I gather more from her body language and the sounds she's making. I think she might be too young to speak properly. But I've got an idea. What if we show her the wagon in the barn. She wasn't scared of Spirit in any way."

Without waiting he got up, settling the child on his hip in a matter-of-fact way. Shaking his head, the tall rifleman followed. "You think she's from a wagon? But I said there's no road for miles that way!"

It proved a sound idea. The little wagon seemed to confuse the child. Eirik made her stand on it, and after a few moments of contemplation, the girl began to stomp down the length of the contraption, babbling first slowly, then more excitedly. She seemed to be missing the covering the trail wagons all had, painting a hazy picture with her little hands.

"Sweetling, your maman, your papa?"

Patting on the wood, the girl proceeded to pull Eirik onto the wagon, and unmistakably made him lie down along its side.

Lucas thought the young man would make an adorable father – as much as he was a patient friend and brother to Mark. He went along with all seriousness.

"Are we playing a game? C'est un jeu?"

The babe lay down with him, and mimed closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

Distracted by the sound of Mark returning from school, Lucas stepped outside to greet his son.

"Pa!"

"Sh, quiet, son, we've got a strange little visitor."

"What do you mean?"

"Come, maybe you can make sense of this!"

The scene that awaited them was sweet in its utter incredibility. Eirik leaned on his side, watching the little girl keenly. The child was jumping up and down wildly now, but constrainedly – she was playacting, that much was clear. Arms flailing, she fell on her knees, only to jump up immediately. Then she stood still, turned around and around a few slow turns, only to change into a little wild animal, attacking Eirik with cubby hands forming talons, her face drawn into a fierce grimace. The sounds she made during the charade underlined the story and painted a picture that Eirik clearly was beginning to understand.

Come to that, Lucas himself found a thought taking form.

And Mark put it into words: "Pa – the horses shied, the wagon overturned, and then some kind of animal, maybe a bird, attacked."

The boy's clear voice startled their fair visitor so badly that she sat down right into the safe zone of Eirik's arms, staring at the newcomer with wide, reproachful eyes.

"Ah!" she stated, pointing one chubby hand at Mark.

"Hello there! Where did you come from?" The boy asked, enchanted already.

"I found her on the field a few miles north of the fence. I think you understood her better than any of us could. What do we do now?" On hand was closing protectively around the small creature.

Lucas had a plan ready: "I'll ride into town to gather a few men for a search party. You ride back to where you found her, take water and food with you."

"Can I go with Eirik, Pa? I can take a few tools for to fix the wagon?"

Eirik met the tall man's glance. "And maybe some bandages?"

"Right, son, ride with Eirik. We'll be with you in no time. We'll take the shortcut through the gully."

Riding into North Fork to quickly gather a few men including the Doc gave Lucas the time to think about what had taken place in the barn. How did Eirik know to gain this child's trust so quickly, to use a two-year-old's innate ability and intention to describe what she had seen? He knew how to handle the child: his tone of voice, the way he cradled the small body to him protectively. The first moment Lucas had met the young man came back to him: even then he had been protective of the children around him.

From the farmhand's description, the group knew where to look for Eirik and Mark. It was a plateau of sparse prairie up here, the craggy cliffs forming a border to the east. There was no path miles around, no water, just a few bare trees. But it seemed the two younger men had found something – Mark was heading towards them.

"We found them, Pa. The wagon's axle broke. One of the horses has a broken leg, the other broke free and ran."

"What about the people?"

"The father must have been sick before the accident, he has a fever. The mother got pinned under the wagon and could not get free by herself. Eirik and I got her out."

They reached the scene of the accident, and a murmur arose within the men with him. The woman, who held the little girl to her with wide eyes, was a native Indian. Eirik straightened from where he was tending to a motionless stranger – a white stranger – and took in the hesitant faces behind Micah, Lucas and the Doc. His face changed from uncaring, intent presence to wary, painful reticence. "Well met, Lucas, Doc, Sheriff. This man needs medical attention, the woman's ankle is probably broken. Lucas, the wagon's axle can be fixed, if we find something to replace it." The green eyes tried to convey his anxiety to the other man. Lucas understood the meaning behind the strained gaze – get the men to tackle something, or they might start thinking too much. Natives were a difficult subject around here.

He took control of the situation. Micah Torrence and the Doc had no issues with the picture presenting itself, and while one helped bandage the young mother's leg, the other bent over the unconscious father.

Lucas could hear the quiet conversation that ensued.

"What happened here, Donnelly?"
"They`re on their way to San Jose. The husband took sick a few days ago, and his wife took over the team. She got lost in the rain two days ago, ended up on this plateau. Some time during the night one of the horses shied, breaking the harness, and spooking the other one. The mother thinks the axle may have been faulty before, and gave under the additional strain. The babe rolled from the upturned wagon, she herself hit her head and found herself trapped when she awoke a few hours later."

"What are they doing here anyway? A mixed couple like that won't have it easy…" Micah trailed off.

"She's a trained teacher. Their plan was t' find a farm some place close to a native homestead, and try offer a bridging education."

"You approve, I take it, Donnelly."

Lucas watched his farmhand stand straight, squaring his shoulders. Eirik stated angrily: "Absolutely. There are few enough people actually doing something and not just talking about it."

"Peace, young man, I concur. Admirable intentions, with a small child, no messing. So you speak French?" The old sheriff had picked up on the quick, melodic exchange between the young man and the mother and her little girl.

"Aye. Her name is Florence, and the babe is Antoinette."

Lucas stood from where he had been bent over the wagon's wheel. "Doc, what's your opinion?"

"He's in no shape to ride. Can you fix the wagon?"

"Aye, for the short trip to one of the outlying farms, yes. Not much further without proper repairs."

"Then let's take this as far as we can safely get. He needs a bed and care. And I gather, she does too."

One of the men the rifleman had asked to ride with him stepped back now. "I'm done helping here. I won't ask anyone to take in a family like this one."

McCain reached out to put a hand onto his farmhand's shoulder, so abrupt had been the boy's angry reaction.

"You won't have to ask anything of anybody, Slater. I'll take them in."

"Bleedin' heart, McCain, you sure you want…"

"Leave it at that, man, we don't want to start this here. Go home, and thank you for your work this far."

The tall rifleman ignored the way Eirik strained against his grip, hands balled into white-knuckled fists.

"Let it go, boy. Its not worth a fight now."

"Not now. That's a promise." The young man spat out quietly. He relaxed consciously, and went to help the young woman onto the wagon.

For a full two weeks the young family were guests on the McCain farm, bringing unexpected life and laughter with them. The usual farmwork had to be done, though Florence made herself useful wherever she could, hobbling around with Lucas' crutch. Mark was excused from school every other day to help look after the little girl, who delighted in the increased attention and the sudden freedom of movement this involuntary stay provided. The boy slept in the barn with Eirik, so one of the rooms could be given over to the young family. The father took the longest to recover; Doc Burrage came up to the McCain farm daily in the beginning. The young man had caught a bad fever, and even after it broke he was weak as a kitten for the longest time.

Eirik seemed to be the least affected by the change. He joked once to Mark that "he'd been in the flow of caring for Lucas, and now two more patients didn't make a difference". He spent his every free moment with little Antoinette and the mother, speaking their tongue, making both smile.

Lucas found himself ridiculously envious of either the French mother or his young farmhand – the ease with which Eirik spoke the young couple's language, the way his face lit up when the baby smiled at him, stretching chubby arms toward him to be picked up.

"Lucas…"

The rifleman had not heard the young man approach. The deep voice carried hesitation in a way the rifleman had not heard in a long while. Lucas turned his long body toward the lanky farmhand.

"What's on your mind, young man?"

Eirik had been out checking on the herd for two days, and reported nothing amiss. Lucas narrowed his eyes – the boy's expression promised controversy.

"I rode through town today. It troubles me how there is so much deep set hatred and mistrust, even against a woman and a child."

Ah. Things must have been bad for him to bring it up in this way. But then he did not know this place as well as the McCains did. Lucas tilted his head. "People are scared of everything the don't understand."

The play of muscle against the young man's cheeks betrayed his emotions. But he stayed silent, eyes brooding, piercing the rifleman as if trying to read his mind.

"And the wars have left a good deal of bad feelings against the natives…" Eirik half turned, but did not interrupt. "There have been few incidents here, but stories are brought to town from everywhere."

Eirik exploded, though mindful of the sleeping children and recuperating guests. "Hilariously exaggerated, I bet. The war… come on, they are fighting for their lives, too! And what's bothering me is, how people come here, to start fresh, live their lives, but how arrogant they are at it – while pleading humble servitude to their god! Start fresh, yes, but on who's blood and sweat? There are so few men and women who understand or bloody give a shit that they are intruding in to a world that is older than their religion, destroy holy places that hold more honesty than their churches, kill souls that are more noble that their forefathers…" He buried his face in his hands for a moment, but carried on, unable to steady his anger. He seemed so woefully young to the rifleman. "They call them heathens – and in the name of their precious religion carry out the most horrendous crimes. Who started this war – and who won't allow it to settle? There are always voices ready to restart the issues… and look how they are faring with the black people! All of this…"

The rifleman reached out and put a heavy hand on the young man's shoulder. Eirik was shivering with the intensity of his emotions.

"There is a lot of bad in this world, but also a lot of good. I will not defend the church, nor our priest to you, Eirik. But have faith in humanity, you will find it in the most curious places. Look at this young family. They were lost, and would have died, all three of them, if not for your intuition."

"But they would still have died, left to themselves, if not for you!" The boy spat out, hands clenching into fists.

Lucas hid a smile. "Many of them will think on this incident, on your reaction. Micah for certain will have given them an earful. Some things have to happen for change to occur in peoples' minds. Sometimes horrific things, sometimes small happy things." Now he did smile. "Like Tony racing toward Spirit when you came home today. That babe was a sight, and you thundering down the hill like that!"

He could feel the tension seeping out of the rock-hard muscles under his hand, until even the bitter expression on the narrow features softened.

"She loves that horse."

"And it's rider, no mistake. Eirik, don't underestimate the influence of small gestures. Not everybody is your equal in perception, but most will choose the right path if given the opportunity." He let his hand drop finally, satisfied that his young friend had calmed down.

A curious expression hushed over Eirik's features, there and gone in the darkness. He shivered slightly and wrapped his arms around himself as if cold. Lucas felt his heart clench for the young man, so intense in his every emotion. Now that he was voicing what was going on in that head of his, he added dryly to himself. Miss Hattie's words the other day came to mind: "This young man will make some lucky girl a wonderful husband."

"Go to bed, boy."

Eyes already clouded again, the young man gave a short nod and traipsed off toward the barn.

…..

Once there was a moment the tall man thought he heard his and Mark's name in the conversation between Florence and Eirik, and when he glanced up from where he was working, he found two sets of impermeable eyes trained on him. Eirik's face darkened, he turned away, his answer to Florence short and understandable: "No."

Waiting for Lucas to return to his work, the young mother seemed to try and convince the young man of something, but Lucas could not make out the sense of their conversation. Eirik was left restless and uncharacteristically short of temper for the next days.

Mark too envied the unintentionally secret conversations these two had – for the young father was an American, a surveyor, who had, as they found out, decided to settle in a small town with wife and child. The boy made Eirik teach him a few sentences, making the young mother laugh behind her hand with his pronunciation.

Finally the young family was well enough to leave for their destination, their wagon fixed and prepared for mostly anything that might come their way now.

The young father took his leave of Lucas with warm words of gratitude, pressing a small packet into his hands in farewell. It took all three inhabitants of the McCain farm hard to see the lively family leave, especially the little girl.

What made Lucas take notice though was the way his weird, overeducated farmhand and the young mother took their leave of each other with words and mannerisms foreign to their surroundings: grabbing each other's forearms and leaning their foreheads together for the space of a breath. The young woman then took Eirik's face into her hands and touched her lips to his brow. Eirik only bent his head lower, visibly shaken by the demonstration.

Lucas was reminded hotly then – the young man had lived with natives.

Eirik and Mark stood for a long moment looking after the retreating wagon, waving to Antoinette.

Eirik swung onto his dun stallion's back and with a few short words of explanation to Mark rode off.

"He's going to check on the lower field." The boy told his father. "Pa?"

"Yes, son?" Lucas thought he knew what was coming.

"It was nice to have them."

"Aye, Mark, I agree."

"Do you think Eirik is sorry, too?"

"You'd have to ask him. But I should think so."

"He's always riding off."

Lucas chuckled. "He's not the talking type, is he?"

Mark had to grin, too. But he grew thoughtful. "He did talk a lot with Florence, though."

That was true. "I got a feeling they might be from similar areas."

"It was pretty cool the way he spoke their language!"

Lucas smiled. It had been a new side to the young man.

"Come, let's get back to work."

"And back to school…" the boy pulled a face, making the tall man laugh and push his hat down over his face.

But he could not quite shake the picture of Eirik and the native woman.

…..