Chapter 2
Tru looked on as Lame Wolf sat stiffly in her father's chair, meeting each question put to him with stubborn silence. She felt sorry for him…and ashamed. She had not been a True Friend, after all. She had betrayed Lame Wolf's trust. If only he had not stolen Warcloud!
Mama and Daddy perched on the edge of the sofa, facing him. Nearby, Jamie had settled on the floor. Uncle Spock and Simon stood by the fireplace, their arms folded, watching intently. For a moment everyone was so quiet that the crackling of the fire seemed loud.
Then Daddy said, "Okay, we'll try this one more time. Young man, are you going to talk, or do I hand you over to the sheriff?"
The dark eyes raked over Tru, then settled on her father.
Daddy asked, "Who are you?"
The boy opened his mouth and said, "Lame Wolf."
It was the first time he had spoken to them. Everyone was surprised and relieved.
"That's better," Daddy said. "Now, what's the rest of your name?"
"Duncan."
"Duncan Lame Wolf?"
Silence.
Daddy asked lots of questions. "How old are you? Where are you from? Where's your family? What were you doing in the woods?"
More silence.
Daddy looked at Spock. The Vulcan raised a slanted brow. Daddy looked at Mama. Then his eyes settled on Tru. She knew he was going to call the sheriff unless someone could tell him more.
Taking a deep breath, she said, "He's almost fourteen."
As everyone turned to her, she scrunched down in her chair, embarrassed. Lame Wolf's eyes flamed, and she tried not to look at him. Getting up, she walked over to her father and he put his arm around her. She knew that she had to tell him everything.
Hesitantly she began, "Lame Wolf…never knew his parents. He…he lived with his grandfather, White Elk, in Oregon. White Elk taught him the old ways before he died. When the earthquakes came and the land started to break up, a social worker sent him to an old aunt here in the Sawtooth Mountains, where it was safer. Her name was Lydia and she had a grown son…who sometimes drank too much and hit him. Last year, his aunt died, too, and…and Lame Wolf ran off into the forest. Please don't send him away, Daddy. He's not bad."
Her father turned his attention back to the boy. "You have no other family? No one besides the man who hit you?"
"The earth is my mother," he replied. "The bears are my brothers."
Daddy got a strange, faraway look on his face. After a moment he got up and placed a hand on Lame Wolf's bony shoulder. Gazing into the boy's eyes, he said, "It's alright, son, relax. You're among friends here."
oooo
"Jim, I don't like this, "Antonia said. They lay side by side in bed, staring up at the darkness. "I keep thinking about Lauren and Teresa. Spock took that Vulcan boy into his home, and Sobek murdered them. We don't really know anything about this Duncan Lame Wolf, except that he's a thief. I don't want him around Tru. If you won't listen to me, listen to Spock. We should just turn Lame Wolf over to the authorities and be done with it."
Jim knew that Spock and Antonia had valid concerns, but he was not ready to hand the boy over. "He's out in the tack room. The house is locked."
"What makes you think he's going to stay in the tack room?"
"He likes horses." Jim braced himself for an argument. "And I told him if he stayed here and helped out, I wouldn't press charges."
"You what?" Antonia turned her face toward him. "Jim, it's not legal to keep him here. Even if he really has no family, the authorities will decide where to place him. And what about school?"
Jim had no ready answers; she was right on all counts.
After a moment she said, "Why are you so interested in that boy? Is it because of David? Because you lost your son?"
Deep inside him memories were stirring, but they were not of David. In his mind's eye he saw pine trees, blue sky, a sparkling lake. His heart beat faster. "Antonia…there's something I have to tell you." Reaching for her hand, he held it tightly. "It was during the first five year mission aboard the Enterprise. We stopped at a planet endangered by a large asteroid, and I became separated from the rest of the landing party. In the process, I received an injury that temporarily took away my memory. The others had to leave. I was left there alone, but a tribe of Indians took me in. Their leader treated me like some kind of god."
"Indians?" she questioned. "American Indians…out in space?"
"Transplanted like seeds, by a super-race called the Preservers."
"The Preservers; I've heard of them," she said. Her hand left his. She rose onto one elbow and gazed at him, eyes glimmering in the dark. "So what happened?"
He hesitated. "It was like living in paradise. For a time, that simple life was all I knew. There was a maiden…named Miramanee. She…became my wife. She carried my child."
As Antonia sat upright, he could sense her shock, her anger. Then she said, "You told me you were never married!"
"I didn't even know who I was," he replied in his defense. "There was an Indian ceremony. It all seemed like a dream."
"But you loved her…"
"Yes," he admitted, "I had feelings for Miramanee…but she died long before the child was ready to be born. She was stoned to death when the tribe realized I wasn't a god, and turned on me. By that time Doctor McCoy had arrived, but even he couldn't save her."
Antonia was very quiet. Then she said, "Jim, I knew there were other women. But a wife? Why didn't you tell me?"
Pulling himself fully into the present, he explained, "Starfleet didn't consider it a legitimate marriage. And it all happened a long, long time ago…but the memory of that simpler way of life was, in part, what led me to live in these mountains and breed Appaloosas."
"In part?"
Jim turned and tenderly touched her face. "You know full well what your love means to me."
At that, she relented and went into his arms.
oooo
In the morning, Lame Wolf was gone.
"What now?" Antonia asked Jim. Though she was relieved, there was no mistaking the disappointment on his face.
"I don't know," he admitted.
It was Sunday. After breakfast, Antonia got Tru ready and flew her daughter to church in the skimmer. After Mass, Tru went out to watch her father train yearlings in the corral. Antonia was alone in the kitchen when she turned and found Lame Wolf standing nearby, watching her. Startled, she sucked in her breath and put a hand to her pounding heart.
The boy's arm moved. Now she noticed that he was holding something; not the knife she feared, but her missing Indian baskets.
He said, "These are yours. I did not take them."
Antonia swallowed away some of the fear and found her voice. "Thank-you."
His dark, steady eyes scrutinized her. "Are you Indian?"
The question took her by surprise. It was true; her skin tone and hair were similar to those of Native Americans. Was that how Jim saw her, too? Indian, like his Miramanee? "There is some Indian blood in my background," she revealed. "A long time ago, Spaniards intermarried with the Native Americans down in Mexico. My ancestors came from there."
The chili for lunch was warming on the stove. The boy looked so thin and hungry that she found herself asking, "Would you like something to eat?"
He drew himself up proudly. "I tend to my own needs."
"Yes, I'm sure you do," she replied, "but we have plenty of food and I'd like to share it." Without waiting for a response, she dished up a big bowl of warm chili and set it on the table with a glass of milk. Then she took a chair and waited.
Lame Wolf stared at the food, then at Antonia. She encouraged him with a nod.
He sat down, put the baskets on the table, and began to eat. The bowl was almost empty before he spoke. "This is good," he said. "Your husband did not call the law. Why?"
"He likes you," she told him. His chili was all gone. Without asking, she rose and refilled it from the pot.
Lame Wolf resumed eating. Between bites he asked, "Where is your little daughter? At school?"
The mention of Tru stirred Antonia's uneasiness. "It's Sunday. She's out with her father. Are you angry that she told about you? She only meant to help."
"I suppose," he said, "that she did not know any better. She has not been educated in the old ways of our people." Drinking some milk, he added, "I went to school when I lived with Grandfather, but he taught me much more. The old aunt kept me at home."
Half an hour later, Jim walked in and found them seated side by side at the table. Lame Wolf was reading Native American stories aloud from a Padd that Antonia had programmed for increasing levels of difficulty.
"He's quite a proficient reader," Antonia told her stunned husband, "but his math skills end with basic arithmetic."
Wide-eyed, Jim said, "Did I miss something? Last night I thought you said…"
"He came to see me. He brought back my baskets."
"Well, of course," Jim said with a wry expression, "that explains everything."
But she could see that he was pleased.
oooo
One day after school, Tru came upon Lame Wolf in the barn, cleaning out stalls. He had not spoken to her since her father brought him to the ranch. He slept on a makeshift bed in the tack room, and she was no longer allowed to go there. At mealtimes, he preferred to take his plate outside, or into the barn. He would only sit at the table when he was alone with Mama.
Now Tru edged up to the boy and asked, "Aren't you my friend anymore? I had to tell Daddy. He would have handed you over to the sheriff."
He stabbed at the soiled straw with a pitchfork. "You are a child, and children talk too much."
"But…" She swallowed against the lump in her throat.
Just then, Daddy walked up. "Lame Wolf," he said, "you've been doing a fine job on these stalls. I want you to help me exercise the mares. They're pregnant, so no hard riding. And stay on the established trails."
Lame Wolf stopped his work and stood holding the pitchfork. "Now?"
"Yes, a different horse each day. Start with her." He pointed to the speckled brown mare in the nearest stall.
With a light step, Lame Wolf bridled the horse and hopped onto her bare back.
After he rode off, Tru said, "Daddy, what if he takes her? He stole Warcloud."
Her father looked down at her. "I told him there would be no more stealing. That goes for both of you."
Tru felt her face go red. She went out to the porch steps and sat waiting in a patch of winter sun until the cold drove her indoors. Darkness settled over the land, and though there was a light in the barn, she was not sure if Lame Wolf had ever returned. But when dinner was ready, Daddy came in the house and Lame Wolf was with him. For the first time, they all sat down to the table together. While Mama was saying a prayer, Tru peeked and saw the Indian boy open his hands to the sky and gaze upward. She had seen him pray like that in the woods, where God seemed very near.
Lame Wolf spent another night in the tack room, and early next morning they found him back at work cleaning stalls.
oooo
Antonia told Jim that she was going to conduct a quiet search for Lame Wolf's family. She sent a long black hair to a DNA lab, and a full identification of the boy came back. His name was Duncan Redfern of the Shoshone tribe. The aunt's brutal son was at a prison colony, and there was no record of any other living relative.
Antonia and Jim puzzled over the boy's name. For now, they kept the DNA information to themselves and continued to call him Lame Wolf.
Jim decided it was time for Lame Wolf to bathe. He knew that the boy washed himself in the icy water of the creeks, but there was no substitute for soap. One day when Tru was at school, he led Lame Wolf into the downstairs bathroom. Jim showed him the underwear, denim jeans, and warm shirts he had bought. Beside the clothes, there was a comfortable pair of boots and plenty of socks.
"These are yours," Jim said in the tone of command. "I want you to use this toilet, instead of the outdoors. I want you to wash yourself in the shower with warm water and soap. Wash your hair, too…and your teeth." Jim showed him the toothbrush and paste beside a comb on the counter.
Lame Wolf stared at the toothbrush. "I use a frayed twig. It is better."
"Maybe so," Jim said, "but use this, too."
Lame Wolf turned and looked at the shower.
"There's a lock on the bathroom door," Jim told him. "No one will walk in on you." At that he left, wondering if the boy would cooperate.
Half an hour later, Lame Wolf emerged, smelling like soap, his long wet hair neatly parted and combed. The clothes Jim had chosen fit him nicely, compared to the oversized items Tru had pilfered from Jim's closet.
The boy glanced down at his new warm boots, then looked at Jim. "I will repay you."
"Repay me? You've been putting in a lot of work around here. I figure I owe you some decent clothes."
Lame Wolf's face was solemn. Suddenly he said, "The sons of Spock the Vulcan call you 'uncle', yet Spock is not your brother."
Jim broke into a smile. "Spock is…my blood brother." He had noticed that Lame Wolf never called him by any name. On inspiration he asked, "Would you like to call me 'uncle'?"
The boy's eyes brightened. "Uncle. Yes. That is good."
oooo
February drew to a close. The snow fell less often, and sometimes it mingled with rain. For days at a time, the sky cleared and the mountain breeze carried a promise of spring.
On one such day, Lame Wolf appeared before Jim carrying his fur wrap and said, "My lodge is calling to me."
Jim was shaken. "You want to leave?"
"Three days," Lame Wolf explained. "I will be back…that is, if you want me back, Uncle."
"If…" Jim swallowed his surprise. "Of course I want you back." Reluctantly he returned the boy's confiscated knife and loaned him a horse. His heart felt heavy as he watched Lame Wolf ride off, but in three days the boy returned to the ranch, looking proud and content. After that, he occasionally spent time at his wickiup when the weather was good.
"It worries me," Antonia said. Jim was with her in the loft. She had begun a portrait of Lame Wolf, working from a photo she had taken of the boy seated on Warcloud. Jim noticed the care that went into each brushstroke.
Though he had his own misgivings, he said, "That boy lived on his own for a year. He's clever, he's strong, and your cooking has put some meat on his bones."
"It still worries me," Antonia fretted. She dabbed the brush on Lame Wolf's dark hair. "I've been thinking…about that empty bedroom downstairs. Jim, when he comes back…"
oooo
The temperature plummeted. A late winter storm was forecast, but Lame Wolf reached the ranch before the snow started to drift down. Though he moved into the bedroom, he spent his days outdoors, working with the horses. When foaling time arrived, he insisted on sleeping in the barn to keep watch over the mares.
Late one night, Lame Wolf came into the house and tapped on Jim and Antonia's bedroom door. A mare was in trouble. Jim threw on his clothes and hurried out to the barn. He found the brown Appaloosa down on her side, shuddering with pain, her eyes white-rimmed with fear. A quick check told him that a vet was needed, and he put in the call.
It was a very difficult birth, but before dawn a gray, gangly-legged colt was standing below his mother, suckling warm milk. The vet had gone home. Jim watched Lame Wolf towel the last of the moisture from the foal's coat, and made a decision.
"You're very good with horses," he said. "You really helped calm the mare while the vet was working on her. And you heard him tell me that you saved this little guy's life. That's why I'm giving him to you."
Lame Wolf swung around, his dark eyes wide with amazement.
"There is, however, one condition," Jim added, "and it's a big one. People see you living here and they're starting to ask questions. You should be going to school. In order to get you registered, we need to file some papers that would make Antonia and I your legal guardians. You're fourteen now. The judge will ask you to choose between us or the guardianship of the Shoshone Tribal Council. The Council will want you to live among your own Native American people. And maybe you'd like that better than living here with us."
Tears moistened the boy's eyes and he turned to stroke the foal. He did not ask how Jim knew he was Shoshone. "Is this what you want…that I should stay? To help with the horses? The work?"
"It's true that you're a good worker," Jim said, "but that's not the reason we want to be your guardians. It's because we care about you and want you to be part of our family."
The boy stared at the foal in silence.
Jim drew in a deep breath. "We know that your name is Duncan Redfern. Why do you call yourself Lame Wolf?"
He replied in a quiet voice. "When I was twelve, I went alone into the Oregon hills. I fasted and prayed to God. On the third day, a dream came. I saw a little wolf limping all alone on a mountaintop. Maybe I, too, am meant to be alone." He got up, took his fur wrap, and started to leave the barn. Then pausing, he turned back and declared, "You say you want me to join you family, but you do not trust me."
oooo
At breakfast Lame Wolf's chair was empty, and Antonia asked, "Where is he?"
"He took off…on foot," Jim said, brooding. "I offered to give him a foal if he let us try for legal guardianship…but he said I don't trust him. What the blazes did he mean by that?"
"That's all he said?"
Jim let his pain spill. "He's sleeping under our roof, caring for my best horses. I let him wander off to his lodge any time he feels like it. But he says I don't trust him!"
Tru sat unnoticed, eating away at her pancakes. "Daddy, you let me ride with you and Mama and Jamie, but you don't let me ride out with Lame Wolf. You never have."
"Aha!" Antonia set down her coffee. "Bright girl. Jim, you trust him with a sharp knife, you trust him with your horses, but not with your daughter. Not with True Friend. That must be what he's thinking."
Tru looked at her father, brown eyes questioning. "Why don't you ever let me go with Lame Wolf?"
It seemed to Jim that his women were ganging up on him. He gave Tru a stern look. "Because, young lady, as I recall, you got yourself into a lot of trouble with that boy."
Tru broke into tears and ran upstairs.
Antonia gazed steadily at her husband. "Is that really the reason? Because you don't trust Tru? Jim, if this is going to work, we have to do more than gain Lame Wolf's trust. We have to trust him."
oooo
A week passed. Lame Wolf had never been gone so long before. Jim began to wonder if the boy would ever come back. After all, he had left without saying. Maybe this time he had not gone to the lodge at all. Maybe he had set off on some new trail, deep into the wilderness, and they would never set eyes on him again.
With the approach of spring, Jim released the mares and their foals into the low pasture. He stood alone at the gate watching Lame Wolf's colt frisk in the lush grass. He knew how the boy loved horses, yet Jim's trust was worth more to him than a horse of his own.
Tru ran up to the solar-powered energy fence and surveyed the year's crop of foals. "Daddy," she said, "can't we go see him? I miss Lame Wolf and so does Mama."
Jim lifted her into his arms and held her close to his heart. Only this morning Spock had warned him, Let the boy go. What do you really know of him? It is better to err on the side of safety, than put your family at risk.
Spock was a good friend, but even in Starfleet, Jim had not always followed the Vulcan's advice. Should he follow it now? Tru was more precious to him than all these horses put together…but a lone Indian boy had made his way into Jim's heart, too. It always seemed to come down to this. Commanding a starship or heading a family, it was the same. Difficult decisions.
Hoping against hope that Spock would prove wrong, he set Tru on her feet and said, "Okay, kiddo. We'll head out to that cave tomorrow. All of us."
Tru shouted for joy.
In the morning Jim and Antonia kept Tru home from school, and they rode out together, pulling along an extra horse for Lame Wolf's use. It would be Antonia's first visit to his lodge. Would they find the boy there? As they came through the canyon and prepared to cross the creek, Jim was relieved to see Lame Wolf in front of his cave. The boy sat in the sun working a rabbit skin stretched tightly over a wooden frame.
"Hello!" Jim called.
Lame Wolf solemnly stood and raised a hand in greeting.
The horses quickly covered the final distance. Tru jumped down from Shiloh and gave Lame Wolf a hug. Antonia and Jim dismounted. Antonia passed the boy a bag of homemade cookies. Jim looked into Lame Wolf's eyes—as unreadable as a Vulcan's—and handed him the reins to the extra horse.
"For the ride home," Jim said.
Tru was bursting with excitement. "Daddy says I can ride back with you, as long as we get home before dark!"
Serious as ever, Lame Wolf looked at Tru. Then he met Jim's gaze squarely and said, "We will come."
oooo
The ice in the creeks had thawed. All but the most sheltered drifts of snow had melted into the pine needles on the forest floor. Wildflowers swayed in the thick grass of the meadows as Tru and Lame Wolf made their way back to the ranch.
Tru felt giddy with happiness. Every touch of the breeze carried sweet scents and birdsong. Eager to race, she urged Shiloh into a gallop. Deer raised their heads and bolted away, their spotted fawns keeping pace beside them. Lame Wolf's full-sized horse overtook her and they both pulled up. The Indian did not share in her laughter.
"Not so fast!" he scolded.
"But I like to go fast," she argued.
"You are in my care," he reminded her. "You must do as I say."
Frowning at him, she declared, "You're not my father!"
They started into another stretch of woodland. Pretty birds darted among the trees, distracting Tru from her temper.
Lame Wolf said, "Your father is a good man. Has he always lived here in the mountains, raising horses?"
Tru giggled. "Oh, no. Daddy was in command of a starship. Uncle Spock was with him. They flew around in space." Proudly she added, "They were famous."
Lame Wolf grew thoughtful. "Yes, I once heard Spock call him 'captain'. It is better here, with the earth under our feet."
The trail turned into another meadow, where they startled a flock of quail. Tru pretended that her pony spooked, and sent Shiloh into a run. Letting go of the reins, she spread her arms like a bird and shouted, "Look at me! I'm flying!"
Lame Wolf thundered up beside her. Snaring Shiloh's bridle, he brought the pony to a halt.
"I told you, not so fast!" he shouted. "And with no hands, too! That is dangerous!"
Tru pouted. "Daddy lets me gallop!"
Lame Wolf's voice gentled a bit. "It is like you said, little True Friend. I am not your father." At that, he took a firm grip on her reins and would not release them.
Tru fumed at he led Shiloh home.
oooo
All afternoon, Jim worked at making kindling for the fireplace. It was not his favorite chore, but just now he needed the physical exertion to keep him sane. Hour by hour the sun lowered. It dropped below a distant peak, and the air took on a chill. Every fiber of his being clamored to jump into his skimmer and go looking for Tru. How could he have left her alone in the woods with a vagabond Indian boy? What had he been thinking? Spock was right. Nothing was worth the risk to his daughter's safety.
Up at the house, Antonia kept busy in her own way, working on Lame Wolf's portrait and cooking. Judging by the good aromas drifting from the kitchen, she was preparing a feast. A welcome home feast...
As Jim swung the axe, Antonia's words came back to him. We have to do more than gain the boy's trust. We have to trust him. Simply put, but not so easy to implement. Every time Jim thought of Tru, his stomach went leaden. He did not often pray, but as he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, he found himself pleading for his daughter's safe return.
Suddenly he heard horses' hooves nearing the yard. Then, a child's laughter. Relief flooded him and he let the axe drop to the ground. Tru and Lame Wolf entered the clearing on foot, leading their mounts.
Tru saw Jim. Her cheeks flushed with excitement, she ran up and threw her arms around him. "Daddy! Lame Wolf showed me a little waterfall! It was so pretty, with moss growing on the rocks." She scarcely stopped for breath. "Did you know that Idaho is a Shoshone word?" Turning to the boy, she urged, "Tell him what it means."
Lame Wolf said, "It means 'the sun comes down the mountain'."
"I didn't know that." Jim fought to keep his voice steady. "Did you two have a nice ride?"
Tru's enthusiasm dimmed. "It was nice, but he wouldn't let me have any fun." She glowered at Lame Wolf. "He's gotten worse than Jamie. He doesn't like me to gallop, either."
"You mean," Lame Wolf retorted, "that I would not let you break your neck."
Jim repressed a smile. Those two were already beginning to sound like a protective brother and his little sister. But was Lame Wolf here to stay? "Tru," he said, "go in the house and let your mother know you're home."
"But Shiloh…" She had been taught that the horse's comfort always came first.
"Just this once," Jim assured her. "We'll take good care of your pony."
In the barn, Jim and Lame Wolf silently brushed down the horses and settled them into their stalls for the night. Earlier, Jim had brought in Lame Wolf's colt and his dam. Now he watched as Lame Wolf entered the stall and stroked the leggy foal.
"Your father is Warcloud," the boy said to the young horse. "You will be great like him, little warrior. Do you like that name? Warrior."
Jim's heart warmed. "You've named him. Does that mean…"
Lame Wolf stood and faced him. "I have made my decision, Uncle. It is good here. Yes, I will go to school. I will live with you and Painting Woman and True Friend on the ranch." And then, for the first time, he smiled.
oooOOooo