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The shotgun was in the crook of her arm and her hand was never far from the trigger. The wind tugged at her hat, but she had tied it on securely with a faded silk scarf, one of the few luxuries that had survived from her Virginia childhood.
Pulling the door shut firmly behind her, Sha
It was less than two miles to Cherokee’s cabin. As Sha
When Sha
Sha
«Come on in, gal,» Cherokee yelled. «Too durn cold out there for standing around.»
«Okay, Prettyface,» Sha
The dog bounded forward. Just as he reached the cabin, the door opened completely. A tall, lean figure stood in the doorway.
A single glance at the way Cherokee was standing told Sha
«Howdy, gal,» Cherokee said. «Fine day, ain’t it?»
«Indeed it is,» Sha
The cabin door closed, leaving Prettyface on the outside. In truth, there was barely room for two people in Cherokee’s tiny cabin, much less two people and a big dog.
«Hear you went into Holler Creek for supplies,» Cherokee said.
«How did you hear that?»
«Injuns, how else? Wounded Bear’s nephew was trading gold for whiskey in Holler Creek. He heard tell how them Culpeppers finally got their come-uppance.»
«Did they?»
«Bet your sweet smile they did. Where was you when the dust settled? They was fighting over you, after all.»
«When that bullwhip cracked, I grabbed the flour and the salt and took out of there like my heels were on fire,» Sha
Cherokee’s husky, chuckling laughter filled the tiny cabin. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair in two thick braids, Indian style. Her seamed, dark face, combined with shapeless trousers, wool shirt, and worn moccasins, created the appearance of an old half-breed who had chosen to live alone rather than endure the insults of being not white and not Indian. Only the amulet bag hanging around her neck hinted at the wisdom lying behind her calm, dark eyes.
If anyone other than Sha
«Light and set,» Cherokee invited.
Sha
«What did you do to your foot?» Sha
Cherokee turned and began stuffing something noxious into a stone pipe. She struck a match and puffed the mixture of tobacco and herbs into life.
«It was a hard winter,» Cherokee said, «but Wounded Bear’s band only lost one old squaw and a stillborn baby. The rest of them are as frisky as your durn dog.»
Sha
«If they weren’t frisky, one of your spring tonics would put them right,» Sha
Cherokee’s tonics tasted awful, though she swore that was part of their virtue.
«That’s the God’s truth,» Cherokee said.
Discreetly Sha
But today there was only a nearly empty bucket, the scraped remains of stew in the bottom of a pot, and nothing edible in sight. Nor was there any wood bigger than kindling.
«Walking here made me thirsty,» Sha
Cherokee hesitated, then shrugged.
«The creek is cold enough to freeze hell itself,» the old woman muttered. «Makes my teeth ache all the way to my elbows to drink the durned water.»
«Then I’ll just fetch some wood and warm the water a bit.»
Again Cherokee hesitated. Then she sighed.
«I thank you kindly, Sha
Quickly Sha
«While I’m at it,» Sha
This time Cherokee didn’t even hesitate. She simply lay back on her bunk with a muffled curse.
«I slipped whilst I was bringing in water about six days ago,» Cherokee said. «Bunged up my ankle. The poultice helped, but the durned thing still bothers me.»
«Then stay off it,» Sha
Cherokee smiled slightly. «That’s the same advice I gave to Silent John when old Razorback stepped on his foot.»
«I hope you take it better than he did.»
«Still no sign of him.»
It wasn’t a question. Cherokee sounded quite certain. But Sha
«No,» she said. «Not a trace.»
«You got to face it, gal. You’re a widow.»
Sha
«Even those no-account Culpeppers have figured it out,» Cherokee said, «and nobody would accuse them of being overly bright.»
«Then I’ll just have to put on Silent John’s riding coat and take Razorback over the pass again.»
Cherokee grunted. «Don’t think that will fool them again.»
Sha
«What about that man called Whip?» Cherokee asked. «Small Bear said he followed your tracks out of Holler Creek.»
«Small Bear is as big a gossip as his uncle Wounded Bear.»
Cherokee waited for Sha
Instead, Sha
«Well?» prodded Cherokee finally.
«Well, what?»
«Whip, that’s what. Did he find you?»
«Yes.»
«Blast it, gal. You done hung around Silent John too long! What happened ’tween you and Whip?»
«I sent him packing.»
«How?»
«Prettyface and a loaded shotgun.»
«Huh,» Cherokee grunted, unimpressed. «If that Whip fellow left, it’s because decided to, not because you had him buffaloed. What did he want?»
«Same thing the Culpeppers wanted,» Sha
«Doubt it. He don’t have no reputation for beating gals bloody to get his satisfaction.»
Sha
«Do you know Whip?» Sha
«Not directly, but Wounded Bear and Wolfe Lonetree are thick, and Lonetree is real thick with Reno and Reno is Whip’s brother.»
«Reno? The gunfighter?» Sha
«Yep, but only when he’s pushed to it. What Reno is really good at is hunting gold. Durn near makes you believe in spirits talking to men when you watch Reno and his wife Eve quarter the land for gold. Leastwise, that’s what Lonetree told Wounded Bear, and Wounded Bear told Small Bear, and —»