Badlands Bride

“What does it matter to you where I come from? It isn’t my home anymore because of your people.”

His hostility took her aback.

“Go back where you came from,” he said, and turned away.

Just then an Indian woman appeared in the doorway of one of the sod houses. She wore a slim, ankle-length dress made out of the same soft-looking leather as Mr. DeWitt’s clothing. Hallie stared in fascination. How many of them were there? They lived here? She’d thought the buildings and property all belonged to DeWitt.

The raven-haired woman walked toward them on silent moccasined feet. She said something to Yellow Eagle that Hallie couldn’t understand.

Annoyance laced Yellow Eagle’s tone and expression as he replied in their language.

The woman spoke sharply. He turned back reluctantly. “My mother says to tell you she is Chumani,” he translated. “She is honored to meet you and you must come eat.”

“Oh, no, I—I couldn’t possibly. Thank you, but—”

“Good, don’t eat.” He started to walk away.

The woman stopped him with a sharp command.

“She says Coop has already eaten and she has saved food for you.”

“This morning, you mean? Mr. DeWitt ate with you this morning?”

“He always eats with us.”

Confused, Hallie met the dark-skinned woman’s gaze. She had prominent cheekbones and wide-set, uncertain eyes. It seemed to Hallie as though she were waiting for either approval or rejection. She said something to Yellow Eagle.

“What did she say?” Hallie asked.

“She wants to know what you said.”

Hallie relaxed. If DeWitt ate with them regularly, it must be safe. “Tell her I’m grateful for her kind invitation.”

Yellow Eagle spoke to Chumani in a few hard syllables. She smiled and led the way into the sod house.

The small room was clean and orderly. Chairs on one side of the blackened fireplace were upholstered with hides. A solid table and benches sat on the other. Chumani gestured for Hallie to sit. She prepared a plate from the kettles over the fire and placed it before her. Hallie picked up a smooth bone utensil and tasted the gravylike mixture poured over biscuits.

“This is delicious.”

At a grunt from his mother, Yellow Eagle translated and Chumani gave her a cup of coffee. Hallie had never cared for coffee, but she took several sips so she wouldn’t offend her hostess. The woman sat across from her with a quill needle and sewed a sleeve into a leather shirt.

Hallie wondered for a moment why the woman and her son hadn’t made an appearance the night before and then realized they’d probably assumed Mr. DeWitt was bringing a wife home and they had given him privacy.

How curious that these Indians were living here among the motley bunch of inhabitants in Stone Creek. Now that she thought about it rationally, she realized that most news about the tribes in different areas relayed that they’d signed treaties and were living on land allotted by the government.

“How did you come to be here?” she asked, unable to quell her curiosity.

“We are Oglala,” the boy replied, as if that answered everything.

“Where is the rest of your family?”

“Most are at the reservation without enough to eat, treated like dogs.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

He looked at his mother before answering. “Here we have food and firewood.”

“You take care of yourselves?”

“My father was murdered.”

The bit of information shocked her. “How awful.”

“Cooper is my father now,” he said, raising his chin indignantly.

That took a few minutes to register. Hallie regarded the soft leather shirt in the Indian woman’s hands. It was identical to the one Mr. DeWitt had worn yesterday. She raised her eyes to her pleasant, dark-skinned face. Chumani made his shirts?

Chumani spoke softly with her son while Hallie stared into her coffee. “Te-wah-hay, ” she said.

“What did she say?” Hallie asked.

“We are Cooper’s family,” the boy said.

A spark of disappointment and anger flickered in her chest. The boy considered DeWitt his father, and the woman made him shirts. She’d heard of mountain men and trappers taking Indian wives. The idea wouldn’t be disturbing by itself. She stared into her tin cup.

What really sent a jolt of annoyance sparking through her blood was the fact that he’d advertised for a wife when he already had an Indian woman hidden away back here. What kind of man was Cooper DeWitt? And why had he wanted to bring a city woman out here?

She recalled the wording of his letter. He’d needed a woman to read and write. Someone to help him with his business. She remembered his words about not expecting the bride to fall at his feet. Hallie’s eyes wavered back to Chumani. Now she knew why nothing but education had been important. Cooper DeWitt already had a wife.

Chapter Four

Silently fuming, Hallie finished her breakfast and managed to drink the cup of strong black coffee with only the merest grimace. Did this Indian woman know Mr. DeWitt had sent for a bride? Everyone else knew. But she obviously didn’t speak English; it would be easy for him to hide it from her.

A bride wouldn’t be so easy to hide, however. Hallie watched Chumani intricately stitch a row of tiny beads across the front of the shirt. What did the poor woman think of Hallie spending the night in DeWitt’s cabin? Hallie knew nothing of Indian customs. Perhaps bigamy was acceptable. Perhaps, no matter how uncouth the man was, it was better having him take care of her than starving on a reservation, as Yellow Eagle had pointed out.

Whatever did the woman do to keep herself busy all day? Hallie would go crazy in this cramped space with only a little sewing to occupy herself.

“Thank you for the meal,” Hallie said.

Yellow Eagle translated.

Chumani gave her a soft smile.

Hallie had a hundred questions she’d like to ask. She turned to Yellow Eagle instead. “Do you know where Mr. DeWitt is now?”

He nodded.

“Can you tell me?”