Yesterday's Fire
Chapter 21
...
They crossed the creek just below the falls and followed a narrow winding path as it led up into the forest. Joe was growing more nervous the further they went, but her shy smile as she occasionally glanced back at him drove his concerns from his mind. He had never seen a more beautiful girl, her long black hair gleaming in the soft light of morning, and even though he had been warned he hadn't wanted to refuse her invitation. She had found him before the break of dawn as he'd seen to his horse and had not been shy at all as she made her intentions clear. She didn't know much English, but the few words she did know came out soft and enticing as she took his hand and pointed toward the mountains. He saw no harm in an early morning ride, so he'd saddled his sorrel gelding and followed her to where her small black and white pinto was tied in amongst the willows. Her laugh had been so free and he had smiled easily as she mounted, surprising him that she wore buckskin britches beneath her simple tunic. She was wearing boot like moccasins that were decorated with pale blue diamond shapes and flying red birds and her tunic was heavily fringed and dotted with elk's teeth, the sleeves trimmed in pale red and yellow painted porcupine quills embroidered into zigzags. She was like no one he had ever seen before and he couldn't take his eyes off her.
The snow was beginning to melt and the burbling sound of tiny streams of runoff sang to them as they followed the upper reaches of Owl creek. When they finally stopped beside a large beaver pond, she quickly jumped down and dragged the buffalo robe she'd brought off the pinto and he helped her spread it out. It was a peaceful place. The air was crisp, filled with the songs of birds and the sharp cries of hawks, and he sighed with more contentment than he'd felt in a very long time. She pulled him down beside her and opened an elaborately decorated pouch and pulled out some pemmican and a handful of small berries, and what looked like plums and shyly offered some to him.
"We call this a picnic," he said as he bit into one of the tiny wild plums.
"Pic nic..." She repeated a couple of times, seeming to delight in the word.
"I'm Joe," he said, patting his chest.
"Joe."
"Yeah. Joe. You?" He asked, pointing at her, wanting to hear her Arapaho name.
"Me Be'Niiéíhii," she said and giggled.
He was stumped by her name and he thought she knew he would be by her laughter.
"I'll just call you Red Bird," he said, smiling softly. "It's a lot easier to say."
After that simple conversation they sat silently side by side and he watched her daintily eat a handful of little berries, completely entranced by everything about her. She grabbed his hand and pointed at the pond as ripples spread out behind a beaver as it swam. When she began talking in her own language as if he could understand her, never letting go of his hand, he felt something shift inside of him and was finding it hard to breathe. He had no real experience with women, having only spoken to a few of the ladies in town, and they were all married and older. He had kissed a girl once, before they moved out here, but he'd barely been fourteen and deathly afraid of her father so that came to nothing. When he was in the cavalry, the men had tried to get him to go upstairs with one of the saloon girls in Tucson, but he remembered his father's counsel and begged off. It got him laughed at by the other soldiers, but if he were being truthful, she had looked a little scary to him—not exactly the kind of woman you would want your mother to know about.
Red Bird seemed so innocent and he knew she was kind, just from what little Deeks had told him about her. He knew she had been married before and her husband killed, and he occasionally noted a hint of sadness about her, but she always smiled when she caught him looking at her. Going off together like this would be frowned upon by her family, especially Hand, and probably by his, but it felt right to him and he intended to enjoy his time with her.
"This hurt?" She asked as she gently touched a darkening bruise below his eye.
"A little," he conceded.
She moved closer to him as she rested her hand against his cheek and he swallowed hard, his mouth dry and his eyes never leaving her face. He reached out and tentatively touched her thick black hair, wary of their closeness and of his own self-control, but she smiled and he knew he was lost. It was only the restlessness of the horses that stopped him from very nearly kissing her, leaving him disappointed, but suddenly alert as his sorrel snorted and both horses turned toward the pine grove behind them.
"Well ain't this cozy," a voice called out, followed by the distinctive cocking of several guns.
Five men emerged from the trees, and Joe was on his feet in an instant, pushing Red Bird behind him and backing toward the horses. They were rough looking men and spread out as they approached. The leader wore a beat up black Stetson and had long greasy looking brown hair and a scraggly mustache, his red bandana draped loosely across his chest. A couple looked like cowhands, their clothing dirty as if they'd ridden a long ways, while the two men on either side of the man who spoke had the slouch of hired guns, their faces expressionless.
"Been trackin' ya for awhile, boy," the apparent leader said, spitting out a stream of tobacco juice through brown colored teeth. "Yore one of them Atwoods. Little Dicky here said he seen ya at that ranch of yours. Mr. Thurston ain't too pleased with you folks."
Joe knew he'd have no chance if he pulled his gun, but he had to find a way to get Red Bird out of here, so he kept moving back.
"Let the girl go and we can talk," he said reasonably.
"Now why would I do that?" The man replied coldly, his snide smile suddenly gone. "She's a purty one, that's for sure. Ain't had one a them in awhile. You cain't have all the fun, boy."
One of the cowhands started moving to his right, his eyes crawling over Red Bird as he licked his lips, and Joe was suddenly filled with rage at their intentions.
"Go, Red Bird," he whispered and shoved her toward the horses.
She turned without reply and made a run for her pinto, and the man holstered his gun and whooped, charging forward to cut her off. Joe tackled him to the ground, hitting him as hard as he could as Red Bird leaped onto her pony, pulling it around with a kick to make a run for the village. Another man ran at her, trying to drag her off her horse, and Joe scrambled to intercept as the others charged him.
"Get off her you sonofabitch," he growled, ripping at the man's face as he rode him to the ground.
The pinto's hooves dug into the muddy, melting snow by his head as he fought and he heard Red Bird say something in Arapaho and then his name before the pinto leaped away. He was suddenly yanked to his feet and hit across the side of the head with a pistol and his knees gave way, sagging between the two men who held him.
"Get up Dunc," the leader yelled at the man on the ground. "You and yore sorry assed brother is just about useless. Cain't even catch a little Indian girl."
"That asshole jumped me, boss," Dunc replied as he stumbled to his feet and advanced on Joe.
"Leave 'im be. Got some questions before ya beat the crap outa 'im," the boss said shoving the man away.
Things were hazy as Joe fought to right himself, struggling against the men who held him. His only consolation was that Red Bird had escaped and the men seemed to have forgotten about her.
"Whadda ya want," he mumbled.
"Ain't what I want, boy. It's what Black Jack Wallace wants," Boss man said. "He figured Gentry was hold up somewhere up this way, so when Dicky here spotted you and your daddy by that last burned out spread, Ol' Black Jack got a mite excited. Sent us ta follow ya. He here?"
"Who?"
A hard backhand across the mouth only increased his anger and he glowered at the man, determined not to give anything away.
"Don't play dumb, boy, else I'll let Dunc here pound on ya for awhile," the boss said easily as if he had all the time in the world. "Now, is Max Gentry livin' with them injuns or not?"
"Don't know any Max Gentry," he said, spitting blood between the man's feet.
"Bullshit."
Dunc might have been a little dumb, but he was strong as an ox and Joe found himself longing to pass out before the boss pulled the man off him. He was coughing up blood when the man asked him about Max Gentry again, although it was hard to hear him over the screaming pain in his head. His breath came in short gasps, but he wasn't about to tell them anything, so he gathered himself and waited for more of the same.
"What's this Gentry fella to ya anyways?"
"Nothin'. You deaf? Told you I don't know 'im," Joe choked out.
"I ain't deaf and I ain't stupid neither," the boss hissed as he grabbed his jaw. "Yore gonna piss off Black Jack if ya don't tell me."
"Don't know him either," he whispered, the pain leaving him with little energy to reply.
"Gentry kilt his brother," he explained. "He's gonna be a mite meaner than ol' Dunc here when I take ya to 'im."
Joe remembered Deeks saying he had more than just Thurston wanting him dead and his mind ran with all sorts of questions about the truth of what the man just said. He trusted Deeks, but he knew he had lived a rough existence, so maybe the man had reason, but then he realized he didn't care. Deeks had saved his life, and now he had a chance to repay him for that. He wasn't going to give him up to these bastards no matter what they did to him.
...
Hand had picked up Joe and Red Bird's trail almost immediately, but they had no idea how long they'd been gone, so he remained sullen as he searched for sign across the creek below the falls. Deeks had tried to speak to him when they first rode out, but he hadn't responded and it saddened him. George was anxious and held his anger close, adding to the tension between the men, each one left to their own thoughts in the silence. It was the stone cold look on Little Shield's face that scared Deeks. The old warrior had fought many battles against whites and Deeks knew how protective he was of his granddaughter. He feared for Joe and for himself, because he would have to fight these two men if they decided to punish Joe for his actions. He'd thought this place was a haven, but now that had changed, and he'd been surprised at how quickly and easily he had made the decision to stand with the Atwoods. All of them had fought for him, but George had said he was family, and had swept him up in his reference to him as a son and that had struck a deep, deep cord, one he didn't want to ignore. Maybe it was the knowledge that Josie was looking forward to having him come back, but whatever had taken hold of him, the pull of that family was strong and he wanted it to see if it was all real.
Hand had picked up the trail again and they cut up the narrow path along the creek, riding silently. They were passing through a snowy meadow when Red Bird's pinto broke from the trees in front of them. She was riding full out, pushing the horse to its limits, her long black hair flying wildly behind her. They all rushed toward her and saw her tears when she pulled her pinto to a stop as they surrounded her. She was crying and Deeks saw the raw anger on both the Arapaho's faces as Hand leaped from his horse and pulled her to the ground. She pushed away from him, speaking rapidly in Arapaho and pointing back the way she came, and Deeks put his hand on his gun. Little Shield wrapped her in his arms, shushing her and wiping at her tears, and then looked sadly up at George.
"Hand? What'd she say," Deeks asked anxiously.
"Five men attack them. Joe tell her to run. Fought men who try to take her," he said as he leaped back up on his horse. "They have him now."
"Where?" Deeks could hardly breathe and George looked stricken.
"Beaver pond on creek," he shouted, already urging his black horse toward the tree line.
George tore out after him, but Deeks passed him, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't help but think that the men had been looking for him, and it hurt to believe that Joe would suffer because of him. If he was killed, why would George and Josie want anything more to do with him? He wouldn't blame them. Joe was their real son. He was just a stray they'd taken in. He had always longed for a brother and had found one in Hand, and now he'd come to feel the same about Joe. His mind blurred with rage at the thought of losing him as he wove his mare between the trees, recalling Joe's defense of him to the marshals and the silly nickname given to him by his mother.
"I'm comin' Puddin'," he whispered to himself.
Hand slowed as they neared the pond and slid silently from his horse with Deeks right on his heels. They moved slowly through the underbrush, listening for any signs the men were still here, but heard nothing. When they stepped into the clearing, they saw the buffalo robe and Red Bird's pouch lying crumpled on top, wild plums strewn around it. The ground was slushy with melting snow and they could see where Joe had fought, but no one was here now and Deeks saw George slump against his saddle. He was surprised to see Hand go to him and grip his shoulder, speaking softly to him before looking back at Deeks.
"We will find him," he said firmly, before moving swiftly over the ground looking for the trail.
"There's blood in the snow," George said roughly.
"Didn't hear a gunshot, so I don't think they shot 'im," Deeks said, trying to comfort himself as much as George.
"Here," Hand said, grabbing a handful of his horse's mane and leaping on.
They followed quickly behind him as he tracked the men back through the pine grove and down along the side of a ridge. The ground was sloppy with runoff, but Hand never lost the trail, stopping briefly several times to look ahead, not wanting to come upon them unawares. They crossed the winding creek a few times and had been working their way through a stand of yellow pine when Hand stopped and sniffed the air. They could all smell the campfire that couldn't be far away, so they quietly dismounted and tied the horses behind an outcropping of granite and followed Hand as he moved silently along the base of the rocks. When they heard Joe scream, Deeks would have lost all control if the big Arapaho hadn't stepped in front of him and slammed the flat of his hand into his chest.
"That's my boy," George spoke softly from behind, cocking the rifle he held against his chest. "I won't let him suffer."
Hand put two fingers against his lips and then motioned for him to climb the rise to their left, which would overlook the camp below them. Deeks thought he would refuse, but he had been in war and must have realized he could do more damage from up there and cover them as they went for Joe, so he nodded and started climbing. Hand didn't want the rifle Deeks offered, simply slipping a tomahawk from his belt and a long knife from the fringed sheath at his back before moving silently around the face of the ridge and down through the trees. A couple of fallen pines offered cover and they slipped beneath them, the rough camp spread out before them on a barren overlook above the rushing creek below.
Joe was staked out spread eagle on the ground, his shirt ripped and bloody from several cuts across his chest. Three men stood over him, their taunts punctuated by sharp kicks and Deeks felt Hand grip his arm, his eyes dark and his jaw hard. He had no desire to wait or to spare the men before him and he knew George wouldn't be able to either for very much longer. Hand pointed at four more men who were sitting by the campfire and patted his chest, quickly moving along the tree until he was close. Deeks looked up the ridge behind him and saw George tucked in behind a rock, his rifle aimed and ready, waiting for him to make the first move.
"Tell me about Max Gentry, friend, or I'm gonna break all the fingers on your other hand," A familiar voice demanded, obviously frustrated.
Black Jack Wallace had his back to him and Deeks walked out from under the tree and shot down one of the men standing over Joe just as George fired, killing the man wearing a red bandana. Wallace spit out a curse, going for his gun before he even turned around. Deeks fired, hitting the man in the left shoulder, sending him to the ground, his gun skidding off the edge of the overlook. He walked up and put the barrel of his pistol against the man's forehead, daring him to move as they listened to the dying screams of the men by the campfire.
"Max Gentry," the man growled.
"Shut the fuck up," he said evenly. "Joe?"
"Hey Punkin," he whispered.
Hand rushed to his side and knelt to quickly cut him free and Joe moaned, curling in on himself and gasping out a curse as he gently held his broken fingers.
"Is Red Bird okay?" His voice choked with emotion and pain.
"She is with Grandfather," Hand told him, resting his hand gently on his shoulder as he looked over at Deeks with smoldering anger.
"Joe?" George rushed passed Deeks, and kneeled next to his son, pulling him into his arms.
"Shoot the bastard, Deeks," Joe said.
"His name's Max Gentry and he's a murderer," Wallace snarled. "You been protectin' a cold blooded killer. Was he worth all that pain?"
"He's my brother," Joe whispered.
Deeks was startled, and warmth flooded his body, followed closely by guilt and a deep abiding anger for the man he held at gunpoint.
"Well, he killed mine," Wallace snarled.
"Your brother shot me in the back," Deeks said as he stepped back from the man. "Thought I was dead and tried to take my mare. She kicked the bastard and I shot 'im."
"You're a damn liar," he hissed.
"No I ain't," Deeks answered calmly. "You're the murderer. You hung a man in his own barn for no reason. Ya probably don't even remember his name. It was Hawkins and he had a wife and two little girls named Olivia and Lizzy. You want me so bad, then get up. You're still wearin' a two gun rig, so I'll give ya a fair chance to take me down."
"You gonna draw against me?" The man laughed and stood to his feet.
"Don't do this, son," George said in a voice deep with fear.
"No choice," he replied. "I either shoot 'im in cold blood or turn 'im over to the law. Don't care to do neither."
"Let the marshals deal with 'im," George pleaded.
"Don't trust the law," he replied. "Wallace was a lawman. They might just let the bastard go."
"I will kill him for you," Hand offered, raising his bloody knife.
"No, but thanks, brother. This is between him and me," Deeks said, as he holstered his gun.
Deeks stared coldly at the man and took a few steps back and Wallace did the same until he stood on the edge of the overlook. The man's eyes were deadly dark as he stared at Deeks and a slow smile spread beneath his brushy mustache as he rolled his shoulders and settled into a easy stance, his hand lingering close to his pistol. Deeks was surprised to feel nothing like himself, just an eerie echo of Max Gentry as his fingers twitched next to his Colt. When he saw the man's eyes widen for a split second, he pulled and fired as a bullet whined past his ear, clipping the brim of his hat. Black Jack Wallace fell backwards off the overlook, his arms wide as blood burst from his heart. Then there was only silence.
"Dammit Deeks," Joe said roughly. "You just scared the shit outa me."
"Me too, son," George said as he huffed out a held breath.
"I not afraid," Hand said with a quizzical look on his face. "We go now? Cousin needs help."
"Did you just call Joe cousin?" Deeks asked, finally able to smile about something.
"He save Red Bird," he answered with a shrug and started back for the horses.
Joe passed out as soon as they got him up on George's big buckskin, Deeks and Hand keeping him seated until George could mount up behind him. He slumped back against his father and Deeks squeezed his leg and shivered at how close he had come to losing both of them. He had no doubt that George would have washed his hands of him if Joe had died, knowing it was his fault he'd been tortured. He was having trouble with that and hung back as Hand led the way back toward the village.
No one spoke when they passed the body of Black Jack Wallace as it lay among the boulders along the creek, but he heard Hand chanting softly and he wondered why. He still felt nothing, not even relief and it bothered him. He had run from the man for a long time and now he wondered why he hadn't faced him down before. It wasn't because he was afraid of the bastard. He'd heard how fast on the draw the man was, but he'd always believed he was faster. The truth was, he hadn't wanted to kill him. It was only after he found out that he'd taken Kenzi and delivered her to one of the cruelest men he'd ever known that he'd begun to want the man dead. And today he'd become deeply enraged when he saw what he'd done to a man he'd come to think of as a brother, wanting to kill him when he heard Joe scream.
Hand had ridden on ahead and when they reached the village everyone had gathered to greet them, the story of the man who saved Red Bird already common knowledge. Joe woke when his father dismounted and helped him down, good-naturedly absorbing several hard slaps on the back and shoulders, as the men talked excitedly and the women reached out to touch him. Deeks got his shoulder under his arm and along with George they managed to make their way through the crowd and into Little Shield's tipi where Red Bird waited. She cried out when she saw him, but Be'eiyoo scolded her and started issuing orders as they lowered him down onto the cot.
"We'll need to splint his fingers," George said as he knelt beside him, and Be'eiyoo began talking to him rapidly in Arapaho and tried to shove him away.
She pushed George until he got up, looking a little angry until Little Shield came and took his arm, warning her away.
"She will help him. She know what to do," he told him.
He spoke to his older daughter sharply and then handed George a bowl and nodded toward Joe. George looked quickly at him and Deeks nodded his approval, knowing the old man had strong medicine that would ease Joe's pain. The woman moved aside as George held the bowl of odd smelling broth to Joe's lips and urged him to drink.
"Tastes like horseshit," Joe complained.
"You eat that a lot?" Deeks asked with a grin.
"Not on purpose," he replied, grimacing as he finished.
"May taste like shit, but before long ya sure as hell won't be feelin' any pain," he told him.
George came to stand beside him as the women surrounded Joe and began to clean him up, gently washing out the knife cuts he'd suffered. Red Bird grabbed his hand as they worked, helping him ride out the pain it caused until he finally succumbed to Little Shield's medicine and slept.
"I hate to see him hurt like this," George said roughly, crushing his hat in his big hands.
The emotion coloring his words knocked Deeks off balance and he was suddenly consumed by guilt for what had happened to this man's son. He stumbled back and slipped out of the tipi and headed for the small creek by the horse herd. As easily as Joe had called him brother, he was now finding it difficult to believe his father would still want to call him son after this. He had always hated showing his emotions or giving into them in any way, but they were rolling through him now, and he found he was having trouble dealing with everything that had happened. To come so close to having a family to call his own, only to have it ripped from him by someone he had run afoul of left him feeling devastated.
He sat down heavily on a boulder close by the creek and stripped his bandana off, dragging it through the water and then burying his face in it, welcoming the icy coldness as his heart raced. After draping it behind his neck, he stared unseeing at the mud between his feet and then picked up a smooth black stone and rubbed it clean. His mind turned back to Sage, the young boy who had been so much like him—a boy who was alone and without family and who had died before he could save him. He had laid a stone like this one on his grave to mark his passing and to let him know he was remembered, and he wondered if anyone would be there to do that for him.
"What's wrong, son?" George asked.
Deeks was shocked to see him standing there, but more so by what he'd called him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered as he dropped his head and stared somberly into the creek.
"For what, Marty?" George asked, squatting down beside him.
When Deeks didn't reply, he picked up a small, flat stone and examined it before skipping it across the mellow stream.
"Don't run again, son," he said. "And dammit to hell, don't you dare blame yourself for this."
Deeks looked at him, stunned that he knew exactly how he was feeling and what he was about to do.
"But, if it weren't for me..."
"Did you forget what I said yesterday?" He interrupted. "Or do you believe I'm not a man of my word."
"Joe coulda died because of me," Deeks said bitterly. "How can ya still want anything more ta do with me?"
"What kind of man deserts a son when he needs him the most?" George asked. "Is that the kind of man you think I am?"
"No. But, I ain't really your son. Joe is."
"So you think I love you less?"
"I don't know how to answer that," he replied, choking on the words and stunned by what he said.
"You saved his life once, Marty. Gave him back to us," George said slowly as he stood and walked behind him, placing both strong hands atop his shoulders. "If Joe had died this time, it wouldn't have been because of you. It would of been because of an evil man so blinded by hate that he lost his soul. And you're not responsible for that. And I wouldn't hold it against you. Do you understand that?"
"I didn't think I'd kill him till I heard Joe scream."
"It bothers you don't it? Killin' a man."
"Never warmed to it," he replied. "Those people I mentioned up there...the Hawkins. Me and another fella came upon them being attacked by some of Wallace and Thurston's men. They knew those little girls were in that cabin, but they just kept shootin'."
"So you killed 'em."
"None of 'em by choice till today."
"A man has a right to defend himself and others if need be," he said softly. "Why does this one bother you so much?"
"Cause I wanted to do it."
"And you lost a part of yourself because of that," he said, sitting down on a boulder beside him.
"Yeah. I think I did."
"Killin's a mean business, son," George said, his voice hollow as he picked up another smooth stone and flicked it across the slow moving creek. "It haunts you."
"Is that how you felt after the war?"
"During and after," he replied. "Never slept much. Too many faces starin' back at me. That man meant to kill you. Same as the men I killed in the war. Don't make it any easier to live with, but you're not the murderer he was. You gave him a chance to defend himself and as much as it scared me, I'm proud of you for that, son."
The man's praise touched him deeply and he dropped his head, clutching his hair in both hands as he quietly gave in to his emotions. George wrapped an arm around him, leaving his hand resting on the back of his neck, patiently supporting him. They sat together for some time without speaking until Deeks could gather himself, weary beyond words but filled with hope and a sense of slight disbelief at his good fortune.
When they looked up, Little Shield was waiting beside Hand. The old warrior had stripped away the bone breastplate he'd been wearing and his heavily decorated buckskin tunic, leaving him bare chested except for a simple rawhide medicine bundle, his graying braids completely unadorned. Hand wore only a loincloth and his long hair was free of the eagle feathers he usually wore. He motioned for them to come, and Deeks had a fairly good idea about where they were headed.
"How you feel about getting naked in front of these two?" Deeks said, smiling at the surprised look on George's face.
"I'd wanna know why," he replied, eyeing the men cautiously.
"Grandfather had vision and now must send dead man's spirit away," Hand explained as he walked up and took Deeks hat off his head.
"How many of them damn things are following me around?" Deeks asked.
Neither of the Arapaho answered, they simply turned and expected them to follow. The sweat lodge was as he remembered it, and he slowly began to undress until he was completely naked. He found he wanted to be free of what haunted him and if getting naked and having smoke blown in his face would do that, he would gladly go along with it. George refused to remove anything but his hat and shirt and Deeks saw Hand smile slightly and shake his head.
"Little Shield kept his pants," George said defensively.
The men followed the old medicine man into the dark confines of the sweat lodge and Deeks was once again engulfed in heady smoke and the smell of juniper and sage. Sweat rose on his skin before he even sat down and he bowed his head until they were all settled around the smoldering fire. Little Shield and Hand began a soft, haunting chant, their voices rising with the smoke of the fire. There was a melancholy feeling to the sound, which was becoming rhythmic and louder as it went on, Hand shaking a rattle occasionally as if to punctuate what they were singing. When the chant ended, sage bundles were lit and the sweet smelling smoke blown into Deek's face, now dripping with sweat.
"Dead man's spirit gone now," Little Shield said, patting Deeks on the knee. "It will not find you."
Little Shield then took his hand and he looked down at the long knife he gave to his grandson and felt the first shiver of uncertainty. George moved uneasily by his side when the old man took his hand as well and they looked at each other, Deeks flashing a quick cocky grin and shrugged his shoulders. He hissed as Hand made a light cut across the palm of his right hand and then across the palm of George's and nodded for them to take each other's now bloody hand. As they clasped each other's hand, Little Shield tied them together with a strip of soft white buckskin and began chanting again. George seemed to understand before he did, and a soft smile spread across his face as he looked over at him.
"I think he's making it official, son," he said softly.
Deeks felt tears start in his eyes, unsure if it was from the smoke or the sacred ceremony the Arapaho was performing, but he felt a chill go through him even in the increasing heat. He stared at their two hands as their blood mingled and then up at George, tears coursing down through the sweat on his cheeks.
"Your blood is same now," Little Shield said softly as he untied them and folded the blood stained buckskin, handing it solemnly to George. "Show if he forgets."
Hand solemnly bound each cut as Little Shield held the long pipe up to the four corners of the lodge and then smoked it and passed it to Hand, who did the same before passing it to George. Deeks thought he saw tears in his eyes when he passed the pipe to him, but it might have just been the heady smoke fogging his mind.
"I have vision before you return to us, Crazy Bear," Little Shield said. "When you first come to us you walk alone. In new vision you walk with powerful people. I did not understand this vision. Then Talks-To-Horses come and now Nook Nii'ehííni fights for Arapaho woman. You are strong together. Warriors."
"Is that what ya call Joe?" Deeks asked.
"Means White Eagle," Hand explained. "Eagle is sacred. Brings blessings from Creator. Creator send Joe to fight for Red Bird. Good name for warrior."
"Yeah, it is," Deeks said softly.
"He is cousin to me now," Hand told him firmly. "Like brother. Like you, Bear."
"Can't wait to tell 'im his Arapaho name," Deeks said, touched by the reason for the name.
"You honor my family," George said. "Thank you for fighting for my sons, and for giving us safe haven here."
"This home for all of you now," Little Shield said and then put the pipe down and got up. "Too hot. We go."
Deeks laughed as they got up and filed out, the crisp air welcome as was the water offered by one of the young men. He felt different and stared down at his hand as the George dressed. He'd forgotten he was naked until a group of women walking on the path below them laughed and pointed at him.
"Shit," he said, covering himself as he turned away and hurriedly struggled into his pants.
"Bear likes women to see him naked," Hand told George.
"Don't think I'll comment on that, boys," George said as he followed Little Shield back toward his tipi.
Hand slapped him heartily on the back when he was finally dressed, guiding him down toward the horses and Deeks knew he had something he wanted to tell him. He watched him wander among the horses, looking at him from time to time until Deeks laughed and shoved him.
"Just tell me," he said.
"You like woman you have now?" He asked.
"Not sure I have her, but I sure as hell like her."
"She pretty?"
"She's beautiful," he replied softly. "Can shoot and ride and she's braver than most men I know."
"You want stay with her?"
"If she'll have me," he said, growing curious at all the questions. "Why ya askin'?"
"Red Bird like brother. She think White Eagle good man," he said, watching him for a reaction. "You not angry this happen?"
"Ain't mad and ain't surprised," he laughed, but then grew serious. "What'd she tell ya?"
"She woman. Like his face," he said, shaking his head. "Says he is brave. Show no fear when men attack. Wants to tell Grandfather she chooses him."
"Has she told Joe?"
"He would say no to her?"
"If he does you can change his name to Crazy Eagle."
...
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