Chapter One
Alicia woke up at dawn the next morning, and found that her back was not happy with sleeping on the floor rather than the comfortable bed, as she stretched in an attempt to lessen the discomfort. Her green eyes caught sight of the slumbering Indian that slept soundly on her couch, and Alicia noticed the beautiful turquoise and ivory beaded necklace that fit snugly around her neck. She had been too occupied with the woman's injuries to pay much attention to anything else.
There was a feather earring in her left ear, and a wound on the right ear suggested a previous adornment had been crudely torn out. Save a small, disc-like tattoo on the back of her right hand, the woman had no other markings. Alicia knew she was Apache, and also knew the arrow she had removed from the tall woman's shoulder was of the same tribe.
Taking the sharp knife and its sheath, which she had removed the night before, for fear of the Indian harming herself during her nightmare, Alicia rested it on the back of the couch. Sure that the woman would sleep a while longer, Alicia got up to prepare breakfast, after feeding her horses.
As she finished pouring the warm porridge - which was almost all she had left in the way of food, she needed to head into town but wouldn't leave her Indian guest alone - into a small bowl, a loud crash sent her running into the living room.
What she saw brought her heart to her throat.
Looking purely savage, the tall woman stood in the center of the room, beside the fallen sofa - which would account for the noise that grabbed Alicia's attention. Her feet were bare, as she steadied her stance, her legs strong. The Indian was not nude, but instead wore her torn and blood encrusted leather garbs. Her knife was held tightly in her right hand, her blue eyes were hot and angry, and her ebony hair fell across her shoulders, the beaded choker around her neck seeming to enhance her presence.
"Shii natseed nih!" she cried, her voice crazed. "Shii natseed nih!"
"I won't hurt you," said Alicia, softly, hoping that if the woman couldn't understand her words, she'd at least sense the kindness in her tone. "You're safe here. It's okay." Her hands spread wide, Alicia continued to talk soothingly to the hostile - and very tall, Alicia noticed - Indian, who just glared at her, before deciding the white woman was close enough, and slashing at her with the knife.
The blonde took a step back, startled, but unhurt. "I bet you're hungry," she said, and held up a finger. "Wait here." Hurrying into the next room, she retrieved the bowl of porridge, and offered it to the woman.
"Take it," she insisted.
Hefting the weight in her left hand, the tall Indian warily brought it to her nose, before flinging it against the wall with a snarl. The dish shattered, and the meal slid down the wall, as Alicia flinched, and noticed with concern that the woman's exertion had caused her leg wound to reopen, and it was now bleeding freely.
"You're hurt," she said, kneeling next to the woman, peering under the bandage.
"Da'aizhi," said the Indian, frowning at her, her blue gaze intensifying.
Alicia jumped, startled by the deep voice the tall woman possessed when she wasn't yelling, and then went back to the task at hand.
"Da'aizhi!" shouted the woman, loudly, when Alicia's gentle fingers found a sore spot. Grabbing the woman by the throat, she tossed her backwards with her left hand, the strain enough to drop her to the ground as pain spread throughout her body.
The knife was released as she clutched her shoulder, and the small blonde was at her side immediately, returning the couch to its original position and helping the woman to lie down.
"Let me take a look," Alicia requested, gently trying to remove the woman's hand so she could examine the wound.
The Indian attempted to growl at her, but the intimidation didn't work and the woman was in too much pain to put up much of a fight, so Alicia gently pried the strong tattooed hand away from the woman's injured shoulder. Going into the kitchen, she returned with a clean wet cloth she'd dipped in a pot of hot water, and began to cleanse the injury.
"Hela' ndagodinoh'aah niganihi bika'yu shii," she spat, grabbing the rag and throwing it to the ground.
"I need to wash your wound," persisted Alicia. "Otherwise it'll get infected."
"Hela' ndagodinoh'aah niganihi bika'yu shii! Shii natseed nih!"
The blonde sighed. "Fine!" she said, exasperated, as she got to her feet. "Fine. I won't help you. But don't blame me when it hurts even worse later." The aggravated young woman left the Indian on her own, assuming she'd rest, which she did, while Alicia finished her breakfast and cleaned the remains of the porridge that coated the living room wall.
Alicia spent the rest of the day with Mystic's foal, getting the young filly used to her presence. She didn't even stop to eat lunch, not entering the house again until it was dark, and her stomach was grumbling so loudly she wondered if it would scare the horses or wake her guest.
I wonder how she's doing, she thought, deciding to take a closer look when she realized the tall woman was asleep. Noticing a slight flush to the dark cheeks, she placed the back of her hand against the Indian's forehead, and was alarmed to feel an intense amount of heat radiating from her body, and yet the tall Indian was shivering uncontrollably.
The woman had a fever. A high fever.
"I told her she'd be in trouble," the blonde muttered, as she removed the blanket and quickly undressed the woman. Replacing the thin sheet only for her own morals and the hot-headed woman's privacy, she grabbed a dry rag, dipped it in a bowl of cool water, and began rinsing the Indian's face and neck, planning on moving her ministrations to the injuries soon after.
She did not, however, plan on her patient waking up. A weak hand gripped her wrist, stilling her hand, and Alicia looked into clouded blue eyes.
"You're sick," the blonde said, gently removing the woman's grip. "You've got a fever; it's all right, I won't hurt you. The cool water should help bring down the fever, and then I'll work on your injuries," she explained, as if the Indian could understand her.
Surprisingly, deciding she was too weak to argue or threaten, the tall woman nodded, and seemed to relax. Alicia continued her work in silence, before softly humming a tune she remembered from her childhood, and moving on to the infected wounds as she'd promised.
The Indian's sleep was restless and fitful, the fever giving her nightmares, and Alicia was frustrated that nothing she did seemed to help - cool water, small sips of tea she was able to get the woman to swallow - nothing. And she was almost too tired to keep her eyes open.
The rancher had just finished her dinner of bread and cheese when a loud cry caused her to bolt to the next room, where the tall native was tossing and turning, cold sweat matting her long black hair, her eyes closed, indicating her nightmare.
Ignoring the danger signals, red lights, and yellow flags her mind was sending her, Alicia approached the woman, who was muttering similar phrases as she had earlier, and kneeled beside her.
"Hey," she said, softly, watching as her own hand reached out to touch the still flushed cheek, "it's okay. You're safe."
Blue eyes sprang to life, and the woman looked to Alicia, her dark eyes frightened. She was weak, sick, injured, and naked - she was completely at the mercy of this white woman in front of her.
Great Spirit, she thought, closing her eyes when she saw the woman's hand come towards her to strangle her, grant me a quick death... is she humming? She's touching my hair? What is she doing? I thought I was the one who scalped!
Chancing a quick glance, the Indian opened her eyes, and an eyebrow slowly arched its way upward. The young blonde was absentmindedly stroking the raven tresses as she tried to stay awake, talking quietly to the Indian, whom she thought was still asleep.
"Da'aizhi," she ordered, as best she could, her voice hoarse. She felt disgusted with herself for enjoying the calming presence of the young blonde. After all, she wasn't supposed to like the kindness of a white... was she? All the pale-faces wanted was to steal their land and see them scalped. Because they all hated Indians... didn't they?
Alicia pulled her hand back, clearly startled. "Oh, I'm sorry," she voiced. "Well, if you're awake, I guess it's time to get more tea inside you." Adding hot water to the nearly full mug, the rancher hoped it was warm, and gave it to the Indian, who took it in both hands and simply stared at Alicia like she was nuts.
"Please drink it," she said. She was tired, sore, and hungry, but the determined woman would not sleep until she knew her guest was all right. "It'll help you sleep, and take down the fever." Sighing when the tall woman didn't move, Alicia took a swallow herself, and handed it back, saying, "Now, drink the rest. It's not poisoned, I assure you."
With a wary glance to the blonde, the Indian tried a small sip, and then downed the rest of the mug in three swallows. Smiling a little, Alicia took the empty cup, and placed it in the kitchen, only to return to find a deeply sleeping, dark-skinned, ill, Indian warrior woman. That's what the tall woman had reminded her of when she was armed with her knife - a strong warrior of the Ancient world; Alicia was more afraid of that side of the Indian than the cowboy outlaws that terrorized the present.
It was dawn when the blonde rancher began to doze off, and realized she had to get up and begin another day. With a heavy sigh, the woman got to her feet from her former position of kneeling next to the couch, a spot she had taken up when the Indian had suffered yet another nightmare during the course of the night, and entered the kitchen. Cutting a few potatoes and carrots, along with a small chunk of meat she had left, Alicia placed the ingredients in her large black kettle over the fireplace, planning on cooking a stew later on in the day for dinner that night. That would practically leave the woman with nothing, so she'd have to go to the General Store soon.
As she prepared the food, Alicia remembered the time, not too long ago, when she never had to worry about how much food or money she had - there was always enough.
The horse ranch before her brother's death had been very prosperous, but since his sudden demise and Alicia's determination to keep the ranch alive, the young colts had been sold quickly and cheaply. The money was enough to keep up with the general necessities, but it was now running low. A few more mares were ready to foal, and a few months or even a year down the road, that would bring in a little more money.
But the young blonde had to make it 'til then. She had to save her money, keep her ranch from the numerous men who thought they'd be better suited to run it than a woman, but, first, there was a tall woman in her living room who needed her attentions.
"Ndoitcho, sah," Alicia heard the woman's voice drift into the room, sounding surprisingly submissive. The blonde rancher peeked into the room, and found the Indian tangled in the sheet.
"What possibly have happened for you to have nightmares every time you close your eyes?" Alicia whispered, holding back a yawn as she tried to calm the woman.
"Hela' yidits'ag, Ndoitcho," she muttered, and the young blonde was startled to see a tear escape from the corner of the Indian's eye. Whatever she was dreaming about must have been bad.
When Alicia touched her arm, the Indian opened her eyes with a start, and looked downright terrified. So, Alicia comforted her as she would a small child who was scared of the dark - gently stroking her hair, she talked quietly in the Indian's ear, and then placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
Pulling back, the rancher was able to see a softness in the blue pools, before they hardened again.
"Da'aizhi," the tall woman protested, but this time made no attempt at removing Alicia's hand, which was still combing her hair.
"You rest," she said, smiling a little. "I have some tea for you to drink, since your fever's not entirely gone. It'll help you feel better, and then I'll get to work." Munching on a piece of bread, Alicia brought the Indian her tea, and was glad to see her drink it with no hesitation. Not bothering to change clothes, the blonde slipped out the door, having several projects to finish by nightfall.
It was nearly an hour past the setting of the sun before Alicia saw the inside of her house again. She'd repaired the fence, which a few wild mustangs had torn down, groomed all of her horses, and even brought a few bales of hay down from the loft.
After that, she took a run with Thunder, both of them taking a small break at the creek, but not until Alicia was sure the barn roof was secure for the rainy season that was soon to come. Finally, retiring a tired stallion to his stall, and feeding the equines their dinner, Alicia wearily went into her own home, in order to make her own dinner.
Starting the fire and adding the water, the young blonde kicked off her boots, and ran an exhausted hand through her hair. She felt ready to drop on the kitchen floor and fall asleep, but instead got to her feet, and walked over to the porcelain basin that was filled with water. Washing her face and hands, she dried them with a soft towel, her green eyes widening when she noticed that her tall Indian guest was awake.
Alicia walked over to her, her hand outstretched to feel her forehead, and the tall woman drew back, cautiously.
The rancher sighed. "I'm only going to see if your fever has broken. Please, I won't hurt you, and I'm really too tired for a fight," she added. After getting almost no sleep for two days, she was dead on her feet, and knew she couldn't handle an argument.
When she reached her hand out again, Alicia was glad to see the Indian allowed it, and even happier to find that the fever had indeed broken, and the woman's temperature felt normal.
"Well, you feel healthier," she smiled. "I'll bring you some stew; you need to eat something." Stirring the meager meal, Alicia divided it into two bowls as soon as it was hot, and gave the Indian the bigger portion.
"You need your strength," said Alicia, handing the injured woman the bowl and spoon. She sat heavily on the rug beside the couch, rolling her eyes when she realized the Indian wasn't eating her meal.
"Eat it or don't," she stated, "but please don't throw it. I don't have enough to spare for your tantrums." Feeling the lack of sleep and abundance of stress begin to attack her, Alicia took a bite of her stew, suddenly not very hungry.
"Ashood," said the woman, softly, in her rich, low voice, that Alicia found oddly pleasant and safe.
"If that's thank you, you're welcome," grinned the blonde, as the tall native devoured the stew with fervor. Realizing she still had a few things to do, like paperwork, which was doing wonders on her emotional state, as every possible person of importance wanted money, Alicia handed her bowl to the Indian, saying, "Here, you can have it. I'm not hungry," as she walked into the adjoining room. With a shrug, and a slight frown, the woman finished both bowls.
Alicia was almost asleep, ready to dream about how may more foals she'd have to sell before everyone would be satisfied, when a cry startled her from her thoughts.
"For the love of God, woman!" she muttered, upon finding the Indian tossing and turning in another nightmare, this one worse than the others, judging by the rapid speed of the Indian's breathing. "Do you ever sleep?
"Okay," she soothed, removing the woman's knife again, and taking her hand as she tried to calm her. "You're safe, it's okay." The exhausted blonde whispered various comforts to her troubled guest, until her breathing eased, and she fell into a peaceful sleep.
"I think we could both use a good night's sleep," said Alicia, closing her eyes and quickly falling asleep, resting on her side on the floor, her unconscious mind barely acknowledging the slight squeeze her hand received, before falling to the floor.