Westward Dreams Page 2

  Joe tipped his hat to her. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Fairbanks.”

  What a handsome man, she thought as she looked into his hazel eyes. “Likewise, Mr. Dwyer.”

  “Just call me Joe,” he said.

  “All right. And please feel free to use my first name,” she said with a smile.

  “Ok. Will do. Jack, where’s our sheriff?” Joe said.

  Jack replied. “Out on patrol. I’m not sure where exactly.”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “Every time I want him, he’s out somewhere and I have to track him down.”

  Jack said, “Maybe he does it on purpose so you can’t bug him.” He smiled at the mayor.

  “I used to like you, Jack,” Joe said. “Well, I better find him. Keep serving and protecting, young man.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hannah, I’ll see you around,” Joe said.

  “Goodbye,” she said and watched him ride off.

  “He’s married,” Jack said with a smile. He saw plenty of women look at Joe the way Hannah had.

  “Oh. Darn. Thank you for telling me,” Hannah said.

  “You’re welcome. C’mon. Let’s get you settled,” Jack said.

  Once in her room, Hannah sat in one of the nice chairs and tried to get her thoughts in order. What was she going to do? She had some money saved that she could live off of for a little while, but she was going to need to find employment very soon. The awful events of the evening caught up with Hannah and she couldn’t stop the tears that fell from her eyes.

  For the first time in her life, she was truly afraid of what the future held. She was used to being self-sufficient and very determined, but Clive’s deception and the fact that she was stranded in an unfamiliar place had unnerved her. Thank goodness for the kind young deputy that had taken such good care of her. She was lucky to find someone like him in her time of need. Now she had to figure out what she was going to do. Hannah sat and began to map out a plan as rain beat on the window next to her.

  Chapter Two

  Owl lay in his tipi that was set up on the Samuels ranch listening to the rain fall on the buffalo hide walls. He loved the sound and smiled as he smelled the fresh scent that came with the precipitation. Someone scratched on the entrance flap of the tipi.

  Owl didn’t bother sitting up. “Come,” he said in English.

  The flap opened and young Mikey Samuels came in and closed it against the dampness outside. “Hello, Uncle,” he said in Lakota. Almost ten now, Mikey was the spitting image of his mother, Tessa. His deep blue eyes and brown hair made an attractive combination. He had caught on to the Lakota language very quickly a few years ago and when he was in camp or with him, Mikey almost exclusively spoke the ancient language.

  “Hello, nephew. What brings you?” Owl asked as he looked across the tipi at the boy.

  “Nothing, really. Ok, I wanted to get away from the twins for a while. They’re driving me nuts,” Mikey said.

  Owl laughed. “Yes. They’re busy ones. You’re a good big brother, though. That’s as it should be.”

  Mikey’s four-year-old twin brother and sister resembled his father and were quite active. He normally didn’t mind too much but sometimes he needed some time to himself. Mikey didn’t mind being alone. He was perfectly content to amuse himself.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Mikey said.

  Owl looked over at his nephew. Mikey wasn’t his nephew by blood. His half-brother Marcus bore that title, but in Lakota culture, all men and women in the village were considered mother, father, aunt, or uncle figures and were responsible for nurturing the children. Children were the most important people to the Lakota and were to be cherished and molded into productive members of their society.

  So Mikey calling him uncle was very welcome. The twins and Jack and Sadie called him uncle as well even though none were related to him by blood. Owl stretched as far as his left shoulder would allow him. Almost six months ago, he’d suffered a serious knife wound that had almost killed him and it had been slow in healing. Marcus had said there had been a lot of soft tissue damage and that it probably included a tendon somewhere under his left shoulder blade.

  He rolled over on his right side and watched the firelight flicker off the walls. “So what’s on your mind?”

  “I want my own horse, but Pa says I’m not old enough,” Mikey said.

  “Ah. You’re at a hard age. Not a child, but not a man,” Owl said. “You must be patient, but a small horse would be all right for you. All of my ponies are south or I would let you have one.”

  “Really? Yeah, it doesn’t do me much good all the way down there,” Mikey said with a smile.

  “No, it doesn’t. Do you think you’re old enough for a horse?” Owl asked.

  Mikey nodded. “Yeah. I told him I would take care of it. You know, feed it and brush it and all that. I know I could do it.”

  Owl chuckled. “And you came here hoping that I would talk to your father about it for you, right?”

  “Will you?” Mikey asked.

  Owl couldn’t resist the hopeful look Mikey gave him. All the children knew what a pushover Owl was. That was another Lakota tradition. All men usually sided with the children if they were being disciplined too harshly. Lakota children were gently guided towards acceptable behavior or gently shamed into behaving. Owl used this approach with all of the Samuels children, which was often in conflict with the way they were raised by their white family.

  Dean especially found Owl’s permissive ways annoying. He and Owl frequently argued about it. Other than that, they got along fairly well.

  Owl sighed. “Yes. I will talk to him, but I make no promises. I can’t force him to give you a horse. Do you understand?” Owl asked.

  Mikey’s bright smile warmed Owl’s heart. “Yes, uncle. Thank you. Can I sleep here tonight?”

  “Does your mother know where you are?” Owl asked. He felt that at Mikey’s age there was no real need to keep such a close eye on him. The Lakota didn’t watch the older children like Mikey every minute of the day.

  Since Marcus’ family had been so kind to let him stay on their ranch for the winter, Owl tried to do things their way. It was actually fun learning about their culture and he found many things they did amusing. One thing that had been made very clear to him was that they always wanted to know where the children were.

  “No,” Mikey said.

  Owl said, “Then please go tell her. You may sleep here. Bring an extra blanket. It’s going to get cold overnight. If you get sick, your mother will have my hide.”

  “Yes, uncle,” Mikey said and left the tipi.

  Owl rolled back over and laughed softly. He was imagining the conversation he was going to have with Dean in the morning. Annoying Dean was one of the more fun things he liked to do. It gave him great pleasure when he got under the other man’s skin. Marcus kept pleading with him to leave his brother alone so Marcus didn’t have to hear Dean complain about Owl. Owl didn’t listen to Marcus and it drove his younger brother crazy, which was an added bonus for Owl.

  Mikey soon returned with two more blankets. “I brought one for you, too.”

  “Thank you,” Owl said as he took the blanket Mikey handed him. He didn’t really need it, but he didn’t want to hurt the boy’s feelings by refusing it.

  Mikey settled in and curled up under his blankets. “Uncle Owl?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you please tell me the story about How People Learned to Fish?” Mikey asked.

  It was Mikey’s favorite Lakota story. “Sure.” Owl was only about halfway through the story when he heard Mikey’s breathing change. The boy was asleep. The Lakota brave smiled and closed his eyes, too.

  Dean gave Owl a fierce frown as they drove into Dawson the next morning. “He’s not getting a horse and I would appreciate it if you didn’t always fight his battles for him.”

  “He is old enough. Mikey take care of a horse good.” Owl’s English had improved dramatically since he was living among white pe
ople full-time now. He still understood more than he could speak. It was hard for him to convert Lakota to English, so his sentences tended to be inconsistent. Sometimes he could say a whole phrase correctly and other times just the main words. “You treat him like baby.”

  Dean let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I know that Lakota children run wild and do almost whatever they want, but my kids don’t. I didn’t have my own horse until I was fourteen.”

  “Well, that stupid. I was a brave by that time,” Owl said.

  “I’m happy for you, but my son isn’t a Lakota brave,” Dean said. “We already have plenty of horses that he can ride.”

  Owl shook his head. “But they are not his horse. Do you not remember what that was like?”

  “Yes, I remember, but I just told you that I was older. Pa didn’t let me have a horse until I was old enough to be responsible for it,” Dean said.

  “Maybe you were not ready, but he is. If you not give him horse, I give him one of my ponies when family comes with them,” Owl said. “And there be nothing you can do about it.”

  “Like hell there isn’t,” Dean said. “You’re really pressing your luck, Owl.”

  “Why are you so stubborn?” Owl asked.

  “Why are you so annoying?” Dean countered. His curiosity about a Lakota pony got the better of him. “What kind of pony would it be?”

  Owl smiled internally. He had Dean right where he wanted him. “Hmm. I think my black and white pony. He is a little older so some of his…um…fire is gone and he is tamer. About fourteen hands tall. Just right for boy Mikey’s age.”

  Dean swore. “How do you always get your way about everything?”

  “It is a gift from the Creator,” Owl said with a grin.

  “Yeah, well I wish He wouldn’t have given it to you,” Dean said. “You’re a pain in my rear end.”

  They rolled into town and made their way toward the feed mill. Owl was a known figure around town now and some of them waved as they passed by. He smiled and waved back. The rain had let up for the moment but the streets were still very muddy. The team of horses went a little slower because their big hooves sank down into the muck. If they hadn’t needed the grain so badly, Dean would have waited to pick it up until things had dried out a little more. As it was, the going was going to be harder on the way home due to the added weight on the wheels.

  At the square, Owl jumped out of the wagon while it was still moving.

  “Where are you going?” Dean called after the Indian. “I thought you were going to help me?”

  “Do not worry! I will catch up!” Owl yelled back as he trotted down the street.

  During his forced stay with the Samuels, Owl had developed a sweet tooth and he wanted to get some more candy. Owl made quite a picture running down the street in his leggings and deerskin shirt. His black hair flowed behind him like a dark banner. As he ran, a lady came out of a boutique almost right in front of him and slipped in the mud.

  Owl tried to stop so he could catch her, but his feet began sliding. He did the next best thing and grasped her shoulders and spun around with her so that when they landed she was on top of him and he would take the brunt of the fall. They landed with a jarring thud. Owl’s bad shoulder protested and he grunted as pain shot down his arm. He pushed the pain aside and looked down to check to see if the woman in his arms was all right.

  Hannah hadn’t seen Owl and didn’t know who had ahold of her. As her shock from the fall faded, she pushed off the hard chest she’d landed on and looked down into intense dark eyes that held a healthy dose of humor in them. As Hannah’s eyes travelled over his other features, she realized that he was an Indian.

  His sensual mouth was curved in a smile. “Are you ok?” he asked.

  Hannah blinked. She hadn’t expected him to speak English. There was an accent to his speech that was pleasant to the ear.

  Owl laughed as he saw her bewilderment. “I talk pretty good English, huh?”

  His smile was irresistible and her mouthed curved of its own accord. “Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to stare. I’ve never met an Indian before.”

  “It is ok. We need to get you up,” Owl said.

  Bernie Jacobs the shop keeper of the store Hannah had hurried from his shop to help them. Between the two men, they were able to get Hannah on her feet with only a minimum of mud getting on her skirts. Bernie reached down to help Owl, but he waved Bernie off. He didn’t want to pull the shop owner over. Owl threw his weight forward with great force and came up onto his feet.

  Mud slid off his shirt and fell to the street with soft plops. Hannah watched him in fascination. Owl wasn’t nearly as tall as Black Fox but his six-foot-two height was tall compared to her height. His buckskin shirt had been incredibly soft under her hands. The color of it contrasted nicely with his dusky skin. She noticed that he wore a small amulet of some sort and wondered what it meant.

  Owl’s shoulder throbbed from the exertion and he rolled it a little.

  “Are you hurt?” Hannah asked.

  “Yes, but not from fall,” Owl said. “Old wound. Still healing. I am fine. Are you ok?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you for helping me. I’m not sure how you managed to catch me, but I’m glad you did,” Hannah said. “I’m sorry your clothes got dirty, though.”

  Owl shrugged. “It is ok. They can be washed.” He watched her expressive face. Her eyes were a very light brown shade, almost amber in color. Owl thought that her smile was very pretty and he liked her figure. He remembered Dean was waiting for him and thought it best to go help his host so he didn’t change his mind about letting Mikey have a horse. “I must go. Goodbye, pretty lady,” he said and ran down the street.

  Hannah stared after him with an open mouth. Then she turned to Bernie and said, “Who was that?”

  Bernie laughed and said, “That’s Owl. He’s a half-brother to Marcus Samuels, our doctor in training. Their tribe doesn’t live far from town. He sure seemed to like you, miss.”

  Hannah felt her cheeks flush and turned to look in the direction Owl had run. However, he was long gone by this time. Then she looked down at the street and saw Owl’s body length impression in the mud. It made her chuckle as she thought about how he’d saved her from falling on her face in the mud.

  Hannah went on her way after thanking Bernie for his assistance. Throughout the day, she thought about the handsome Lakota man and wondered when she might see him again.

  Chapter Three

  Dean eyed Owl as he came running up to Dean’s wagon at the feed mill. He noticed that there was mud in Owl’s long hair. “What happened to you?”

  “I saved lady from falling in mud,” Owl said and pulled off his muddy shirt.

  Dean rolled his eyes. “There you go running around half-naked again.”

  Owl laughed. “You are jealous since I am more handsome than you.”

  “Yep. That’s right. Are you gonna just stand there, pretty boy, or are you gonna help me load this wagon?” Dean asked with a smile.

  Owl frowned at Dean. “What do you mean ‘pretty boy’? Those words do not go together.”

  “I was just practicing that gentle shaming thing, Owl so that you would help me here. Isn't that what I’m supposed to do with kids?” Dean said.

  Owl gazed at Dean as he ran the sentence through his head and saw how Dean was making fun of him. “You think you are funny, huh?”

  Dean chuckled. “I have my moments.”

  “I will get you back. You have to sleep sometime and I move quiet like cougar,” Owl said as he picked up a feed sack and promptly dropped it again because his left shoulder wouldn’t hold the weight.

  Dean was concerned by the pain in Owl’s face. “Are you ok?”

  Owl held up an index finger to Dean telling him to give him a moment. Dean didn’t say anything. He just went back to loading feed into the wagon. His brother Seth had gone through the same kind of thing after his leg had been hurt and it had always been best to just let Seth alone unti
l the pain had passed. Dean afforded Owl the same courtesy.

  Finally Owl didn’t feel like he was going to pass out and was able to heft the bag without too much pain. Dean knew better than to suggest that Owl leave the job to him. Men were proud about stuff like that. He decided to pick the conversation back up where they’d left off.

  “Yeah, well, you come in our room and bother my wife and I’ll be scalping you, pretty boy,” Dean said.

  Owl was grateful for Dean’s consideration and just laughed at Dean’s remark.

  The next day, Hannah went to the sheriff’s office to return Sammi’s boots. The lady herself sat on one of the desks swinging her legs and looking bored.

  “Hello. Are you Sammi?” Hannah asked.

  “Yep. That’s me. Can I help you?” Sammi replied.

  Hannah held out the boots. “These are yours. Thank you for loaning them to me.”

  Taking them from Hannah, Sammi said, “You’re welcome. I’m glad they were here so you could use them. You’re the lady that got hoodwinked, huh? I felt so bad when Jack told us about it. You want some coffee?”

  “Thank you. Yes, I’d love some,” Hannah said and sat at the table. “Jack is quite the cook and host.”

  Sammi smiled as she poured their coffee and sat down with her. “Yeah. He’s something else all right.”

  Hannah couldn’t believe how beautiful Sammi was and how good she looked in blue jeans. Seeing women in pants was as foreign to her as seeing an Indian man in person.

  “He was very kind to me. I was in a very bad way the other night,” Hannah said. “I can’t believe how foolish I was to answer an ad in the paper for a mail-order-bride.”

  “It’s not so foolish. There are quite a few of us around here, actually,” Sammi said. Her blue eyes held kindness as she looked at Hannah.

  “Really? I had no idea,” Hannah said. “You’re a mail-order-bride? Who’s your husband?”

  “The sheriff,” Sammi said.

  Hannah laughed and then saw that Sammi was serious. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were joking.”