Wind Song (19 page)

"Perfect." She dumped a handful of berries into the tightly woven crown of his hat.

His face wreathed in smiles, Matthew fell to his knees by her side, and together they picked the lush red berries. More fruit ended up in their mouths than in the hat, and conversation was done mostly with smiles, but it was enough, and eventually the hat was piled high with the tempting red fruit.

"Oh, look, Matthew, a baby rabbit."

Matthew crept near the little animal. The rabbit hopped away, and a merry chase ensured as Matthew ran behind in hot pursuit. "Be careful, Matthew. There might be snakes."

Matthew kept running and Maddie's concern increased. Fingers in her mouth, she let out a shrill whistle that made Matthew stop and turn. She motioned to him with her arm, and this time he ran back to her. "That's a good boy."

He tugged on her arm. "What is it, Matthew?"

He pointed to his ear.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me."

Frustration crossed his face as he kept pointing to his ear. She cradled his face in her hands. "Don't get angry, Matthew. I'm trying to understand. You have to help me. Now tell me. Does your ear hurt?"

He shook his head. He pointed to her and then to his ear, and when she still couldn't understand, he started to tremble.

Fearing that he was about to have one of his fits, she gave him a gentle shake. "Matthew! Stop it!" He pulled away and started to run. She whistled and he stopped and turned.

"That's it!" she shouted in delight. "You wanted me to whistle." She ran to him and fell to her knees by his side. "Is that what you were trying to tell me?"

He nodded, watching her closely. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled again. She couldn't help but laugh at the look of admiration on his face. The ungodly sound usually brought horror to people's faces, not admiration.

Matthew stuck his fingers into his mouth and tried to imitate her.

"Like this." She demonstrated again.

He tried again, with no more success.

"That's right, Matthew. Hold your fingers together." She hadn't been much older than Matthew when her father taught her how to whistle. She'd been so delighted to learn such a wondrous new skill, that she rushed home to show her mother, who had been entertaining some important guests at the time, including the wives of two senators. Maddie would never forget the look of dismay on her mother's face when she filled the elegant parlor with a loud, high-pitched shrill that caused a prized crystal vase to crack and the guests to cry out in alarm. Matthew kept trying until he managed a faint sound. It was the first sound she'd heard him make and, judging by the look on his face, probably the first sound he'd made in a long time.

Chapter 16

Luke heard the strange, high-pitched sound and changed directions. Dammit, where was he?

He'd been searching for Matthew for the last half hour to no avail. Had they come for him? The Child Welfare Department. Had they taken him away? The very thought made his throat grow tight with dread and his stomach ache. Despite the warm afternoon sun, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

He'd sent Matthew outside for water, and when he failed to return, Luke went looking for him. He found the bucket, but no sign of Matthew. It wasn't like Matthew to stray. And where was Maddie? Was Matthew with her?

And what in the name of God was that godawful sound?

He ran up a slight incline, and relief washed over him upon seeing Maddie and Matthew. He'd been afraid--so terribly afraid--that his son had been taken from him.

"Matthew!" It was anger in his voice, not fear. Anger at himself for letting fear color his judgment. "I've been looking all over for you. I told you not to wander away from the soddy!"

Matthew's smile faded and his chin dropped to his chest. The change in his son was so drastic, from joy to despair, that Luke felt immediate remorse.

Maddie stood and faced him. "I'm sorry, Luke, it's my fault. We were gathering things to display in the museum and I didn't realize how far we'd gone."

Luke glanced at the bucket of flowers and the hat full of strawberries. He lifted his eyes. He wanted to explain himself. But how could he? What kind of father would she think him if she knew what Claudia had threatened to do?

"Matthew has something to show you," she said. She placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Show your father."

Luke gazed at Matthew. "Go ahead, son."

Matthew gazed up at Maddie, who nodded encouragement, then stuck his two fingers in his mouth. The whistle wasn't much, more air than sound, but to Luke's ears it was the most wonderful thing he'd ever heard.

He dropped down by Matthew's side and gave him a gentle hug. He wanted so much to squeeze the boy, to pull him close and never let him go. But today, as always, the knowledge of who and what he was held him back. He squeezed his eye tight and could almost see the look of horror that had been in his own mother's eyes whenever he'd made the mistake of throwing his arms around her. Would he ever forget how she had looked at him? The fear that he saw on her face whenever he wanted to hug her?

He gazed over Matthew's head and he was startled by the radiance on Maddie's face as she watched. He had always wondered how it would feel to see caring in another's face directed at him, to see love, true and unadulterated love in another's eyes. Never could he have imagined anything like he felt at that moment. He felt perfect in her eyes, whole.

Like a drowning man, he held on to the vision of her, and for one magical moment, he was able to block out memories of the past long enough to tighten his hold on Matthew and plant a firm kiss on the boy's smooth forehead.

The surprise on Matthew's face made Luke ache with shame and regret. He wanted so much to make Matthew understand that the quick perfunctory hugs of the past had not been by choice. Lord, never that.

Damn his mother. Damn his father. Damn all the people who had robbed him of such a precious gift--the gift to love freely and without fear. Damn all of them!

Shaken by his thoughts, he straightened and met Maddie's questioning look. "I had no way of knowing Matthew was with you." His voice was husky, but not from anger, not this time.

She studied him as if trying to puzzle something out. "It…it won't happened again, Luke." She laid her hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

He stared down at her hand, so soft and white next to his suntanned skin. He wanted desperately to thank her for helping him to silence the voices of the past, if only for a short time. For once he had held Matthew as a father was surly meant to hold his son, without fear or restraint, and without all those disapproving voices from the past to remind him of all the reasons why he shouldn't. And if he never managed to drown out the voices again, he had this one time to cherish and remember.

Oh, Maddie…his heart fairly sang her name. He lifted his eyes to hers. He wanted to tell her what she'd given him today, but he couldn't. It he told her, he'd drive her away.

"Luke?"

"I'm perfectly all right," he said, pulling his arm away. His rejection hurt her. He could see the hurt in her eyes, watched achingly as it spilled across her face. He hated causing her pain. Hadn't he caused enough pain in his life? His mother, his wife. Lucy Eldridge. Matthew.

Just thinking of the long list of names that came to mind toughened his resolve. What's one more to hurt? "I caught a prairie hen for supper." At that moment he felt that changing the subject was not only necessary but a matter of survival.

"That's wonderful," she said. "I'm growing a bit weary of buffalo meat. I'll stuff it with dandelion dressing and…"

He frowned. "Dandelions?"

She gave him an arch look. "Unless, of course, you have an objection to dandelion dressing?"

"I can't imagine what objection I could have." He winked at his son. "Unless Matthew can think of one."

Matthew shook his head and tried another whistle.

"Very well," Maddie declared, "dandelion dressing it shall be."

She gave a long shrill whistle that made the prairie dogs dive for cover. Matthew clapped his hands in glee, and Luke covered his ears. "What are you trying to do, Maddie? Make me deaf?"

The next morning Maddie rose early to work on the various wildflowers she and Matthew had gathered. It promised to be a hot day, and she was anxious to finish her chores before the heat became unbearable.

She covered the blossoms with cornmeal and set them out in the sun to dry. It would take a few days for the moisture to be absorbed from the stems and blossoms. Once the flowers were dry, she would attach them carefully to a wooden board for display, with an identifying tag.

She turned at the sound of a galloping horse. Recognizing the horseman as Lefty, she wiped the cornmeal from her hands and hurried to greet him.

He swung down from his spotted pony and patted his chest. "Want Wildfire's hair."

She stared at him in confusion. Was he talking about scalping her? Or was this a simple matter of miscommunication? "My…my hair?" she stammered.

Lefty nodded his head. "Me want hair."

"You can't have it," she said, scowling. "It's mine."

Lefty drew back in surprise, as if it had never occurred to him that she would object. "Me want!"

Maddie took a deep breath and tried to recall the diplomatic tactics that she had thought to employ in such situations. She placed her hands on her waist and glared at him as she had on so many occasions glared at an unruly student. "You may not have my hair."

Clearly offended, Lefty said something in Cheyenne that sounded like an insult, mounted his pony, and rode away.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she placed her hand on her chest to try to still her pounding heart. She felt on edge for the rest of the day and kept a wary eye focused in the direction of the Cheyenne village.

That night she brought the subject up at the dinner table. Not wanting to cause undue alarm, she tried to talk in general terms.

"Have you had any trouble with the Cheyenne Indians?" she asked.

Luke looked up from his plate. "Not personally. Most of the trouble stopped when the majority of Indians were relocated. Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason." She glanced down at her own plate. "But I have heard a few stories about…scalping." She glanced up to find his gaze resting speculatively on her hair. For a moment, she imagined warm approval in his eyes as he gazed at her hair, and it occurred to her that no one had ever looked at her in quite the same way that Luke looked at her. A flow of warmth rushed through her, and she quickly forgot her earlier concerns.

The following morning Lefty was waiting for her when she emerged from her tipi, a big smile on his face. Despite his friendly demeanor, she felt a moment of panic until she noticed his hair.

"Like Wildfire's hair," he explained, turning his head from side to side so she could see how he'd done his hair in cogwheel fashion.

He hadn't been completely successful in imitating her own unique style, but it was close enough. Feeling a profound relief wash over her, she smiled her wholehearted approval and clapped her hands together. When he said he wanted her hair, he hadn't meant it literally.

"I like it," she said. "It makes you look…most distinctive." She supposed the others would think his new hairstyle looked odd, but in her opinion it seemed no more odd than the layers of bone beads draped around his neck.

In the days that followed, a bond of friendship developed between Maddie and the left-handed Indian. Lefty never seemed to grow weary of explaining his culture to her, and she often listened to him for hours on end.

Lefty's English was extremely limited, but combining it with the sign language and quickly drawn pictures that he scratched on the ground, she was eventually able to understand all that he tried to tell her about his people.

She learned that Running Deer's squaw recently had what he called a
moksiis.
Maddie was soon able to determine this meant a little girl. Little boys, he explained, were called
moksois.
"Mean ‘potbelly.'"

Enchanted by all that he told her, she laughed aloud. "What a thing to call a baby."

He grinned and pointed to his own potbelly.