Waltzing With Tumbleweeds by Dusty Richards Read Free Book Online Page A

closed on the antler handle of the knife in her belt. Filled with distrust she silently promised she would die honorably and proud. It made no difference, she would not beg for her life.
    “Hey, where is your horse?” he asked, sitting down in the Mexican saddle and holstering the long gun in its boot.
    She did not blink. Deer Woman understood English but if he was to kill her—why should she talk to this man?
    “Where’s your camp?” he asked an edge of anger creeping into his voice. “Are you speechless?” he demanded.
    She teetered dizzy with exhaustion. Her strong resolve locked her knees and she vowed not to faint, nor to show this white eye any weakness. Despite her teeth clenched effort, her vision began to swarm and the snow came up fast to meet her.
    “Christ, woman are you losing a baby?” he demanded as she tried to raise up. No good, she fluttered away into the sleep of the pained.
    He had bound her. She tried to move her limbs and couldn’t. The white eye had tied her up tight and intended to feed her to the wolves. What was she constricted in—she did feel warm and there was a fire. “Ah, you’re coming around,” he spoke and she began to realize they were inside a small lodge. “Here, I’ll help you.” he offered, but she tried to draw away.
    “Suit your self, I ain’t all that fond of you either,” he said and relighted his pipe with a sliver of wood from the fire.
    The smoke was sweet and she wondered what things he burned for it smelled settling despite her position. The blankets, she was wrapped in were his too, for the material carried the scent of a white man and that tobacco. Certainly not an Indian male either. She soon discovered the blankets weren’t bonds and fell away; he had merely wrapped her tight to hold in her body heat while she slept.
    “I have food.”
    She did not answer though her empty stomach hurt.
    “You can go on being stupid or you can eat a bowl of my cooking.” On his haunches, he waited ready to dip her some from the kettle swung over the fire.
    “White eyes killed my man and children two days ago,” she said.
    “Injuns killed my woman and a papoose a month ago.”
    “You had an Indian wife?” she asked, touching the ground for her balance as she settled on her haunches.
    “Part Injun.”
    “Who killed her, the Pawnees?”
    “No, the Sioux.”
    “My people?”
    “It don’t make a damn—everyone is killing everyone in this damn crazy world up here.” He gave her a look of disgust.
    A rawboned burly man, but powerful for he had carried her to this lodge. She could see the night sky and stars out the smoke hole. How long had she been unconscious? She needed to go outside and relieve her bladder. Would he let her go? He did not appear cruel.
    “I will go out and come back,” she said waiting on his nod. He settled back and she left him.
    The cold air shocked her when she emerged from the lodge. She waded past the close tied horses. What did her spirits want her to do? This man did not seem murderous. Still her recent losses forced her to dread any white. She did not stay outside long for the cold felt worse and the snow much deeper.
    She ducked back inside and slung a blanket over her shoulders to restore some of the lost warmth. He looked at her expectantly and she bobbed her head that she would try his food. On his knees, he dipped her out a full bowl and handed it to her.
    The rich smelling dish in her hands, she nodded thanks and wondered if underneath the bushy red beard there was a chin and a face. She had seen his mouth under the bow of his mustache and the even line of white teeth.
    Deer Woman began to recall his panic when he first found her. He’d asked, was she losing a child? No, she carried no child. Head bowed, she waited for the steaming stew to cool. Even though he was white, she owed him her life—she paused. The spirits had sent her to him; she stared at him for a long second. No, surely they had not taken her children and