Chapter 13 #2
Darn the man. She shook her head. In addition to the clay covering his body, he wore a brazen smile over his countenance, a look which screamed at her, an expression that said he was aware of each and every one of her considerations.
However, he uttered not a single word. Instead, he turned away from her and stepped toward the water.
Marietta didn’t follow him. She stood like one frozen, incapable of making even the smallest of motions. After a time, Grey Coyote glanced over his shoulder, and as though aware of her predicament, he retraced his steps.
Still, he said nothing. Taking her hand in his, he gently led her to the stream.
“How did you manage to leave our shelter under the rose bushes without my knowledge of it?” Marietta asked a while later.
Even now, she was avoiding staring directly at Grey Coyote.
Mostly, because so profound were her thoughts, it had taken a moment to regain her equilibrium.
She resolved to put her attention on more important matters, such as how they were going to survive, for one, and how they were going to rescue Yellow Swan, for another.
Marietta was squatting on the ground, reposing next to Grey Coyote, who had settled in a position by the stream. He answered her question, saying, “I believe I was able to leave without you knowing it because you sleep soundly.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then perhaps I am skilled in getting in and out of tricky situations.”
“It would appear to me that this would be more likely the case.” She watched Grey Coyote as he mixed together clay, along with dry, golden grass.
Carefully, she avoided looking at his hands as he worked.
Still, and quite involuntarily, images of what other sort of niceties those hands could do, and had done, to and with her, came vividly to mind.
She shivered, but it wasn’t due to her thoughts. It was because the muck he was concocting would be going on her skin soon, and there didn’t seem to be any initiative she could take to stop it from happening.
This thought brought another concern to mind, a question which was more to the point. “How am I to assist you with Yellow Swan’s rescue?”
“You will watch the enemy camp for movement or for any sign that they might have become aware of me. While I am in their camp, you are to observe closely, and if you see motion, particularly toward me, you are to inform me of it by giving me a signal.”
“Ah. What sort of signal?”
“An animal call is what is usually used, but we could also employ the sound of a cricket.”
“Oh. I understand. In other words, if I see trouble, I will imitate the call of some animal?”
“Hau.”
“What sort of cry will we use, then?”
He smiled at her. “I do not know that yet. We will have to see where your talents lie.”
“Ah, my talents.” She gazed up at him.
Big mistake. Despite being covered from head to toe in mud, he was gazing at her with a half smile that suggested he was very well aware of exactly where her talents lay.
She was not going to rise to the bait, however, and she smiled at him. “If I may suggest it, I have always been told I have a high voice. Perhaps I could yip like a coyote, for their cry is often high-pitched.”
“Sece, maybe.” He returned his attention to the matter at hand. “In the meantime, I have brought something for you. A trophy from the enemy camp.”
A trophy? What sort of prize would this man be likely to bring from an enemy camp?
It came to her, and she cringed. He hadn’t taken a scalp, had he? Somehow the unreality of this, and the possibility of it having occurred, seemed to enforce the fact that she did not, she could not, love this man. They were too different.
But it wasn’t a scalp which he’d brought her, after all.
Instead, he set before her three different bows and four assorted sets of quivers full of arrows, plus a knife sheath.
Weapons? Indeed, these were trophies!
Dear Lord, how had he managed to steal these arms from under the warrior party’s nose?
Shaking her head, she smiled up at him. “This is quite a feat, Mr. Coyote.”
“Mr. Coyote?” He raised an eyebrow. “How have I managed to slip back to being Mr. Coyote?”
“Never you mind,” she replied, but there was humor in her voice. “How were you able to obtain these?”
His look at her became noble, quite grand actually, and he raised his chin.
“All my life I have trained as a scout. I am expected to do these feats and more. Besides, these braves are convinced they are safe because they are in a region they, themselves, guard. Therefore, they are not as alert as they might be were they in hostile territory.”
“I see. This is truly a great deed. But I have one question.”
“Hau?”
“Well, since we are determined to save Yellow Swan, and since you were able to steal all these weapons without detection, was it not possible to do something about Yellow Swan as well?”
“This is another good question you ask,” he said.
“While it is true the enemy feels secure, making them unaware of their environment, they are not careless with their prisoner. In truth, she is very closely watched. Besides, our rescuing her is not as easy to accomplish during the day as it is in the evening. But come, she is faring well now, and these warriors have made their camp not too far from ours. They are celebrating their victory over some enemy—perhaps the woman’s husband, Scout LaCroix.
But, as I have said, they are not at present on their guard, so they are not alert.
This is how I was able to take and hide many of their weapons. More than these.”
“Have you really?”
“Hau,” he said. “Their weapons are cached, and the enemy will be embarrassed, indeed, when they reach for their defenses, and none will be there.”
“Well, well.” Marietta grinned at him. “You’re a very tricky gent.
” It was odd. Despite his mud-covered appearance, his smile was so handsome, yet so innocent, she found her gaze clinging to him, if only to drink in his splendor.
Gradually, she forced herself to look away from him. “What you did is very admirable.”
Casting him several surreptitious glances, she could have sworn he seemed to swell with dignity. However, all he said was, “Come, we must plan our evening well. Let me tell you what I have been able to ascertain.”
“Yes, this would be good.”
He nodded. “There is but one guard on duty. I already know where he will be stationed. It is also lucky for us that the warriors have sent their scouts on ahead to their village, perhaps to announce their homecoming. Their scouts, I fear, would have been harder to fool than the warriors themselves.”
Marietta inclined her head. Indeed, if their scouts were anything like this man, they would be very hard to deceive.
“Ito, come, we have much to do. And I would ask you to stand now. Part of the plan is to paint you well. I must give it much attention.”
“All right,” she agreed, though even she could hear the reluctance in her voice. “Somehow putting mud all over me is not something that appeals to me.”
“Hiya, I suppose not. But come, it must be done.”
“Yes, all right.” It was an odd sensation, standing before Grey Coyote as she was. In truth, she felt almost naked, and perhaps she had good reason, for she wore only her corset, drawers, slippers and hose.
“Ah, I wish I had more time.” He shook his head, reaching for her and running his hands down her torso. “But we have very little time, and this must be done right, so let me begin. The first action I must take is to cut off and cache much of these leggings you wear.”
“Leggings? You mean my pantalettes?”
“Call them what you wish. To me they are leggings.” He pointed toward them. “But look at how loose they are. Haiye, they are too full, and I fear they will snag if I do not cut them.”
“Cut them?”
“And I must cover their color, also. Pure white is not necessarily a common shade on the plains at this time of year.”
She drew slightly away from him. “But if you cut away my clothes, what will I wear to cover my legs?”
“Clay.”
“Clay? That’s all?”
He nodded while she sighed. Perhaps because she had already resigned herself to such a necessity, all she found herself saying was, “It is, indeed, very good for us to refer to ourselves as being married. For, if we were not married—even though we are only pretending to be so—I am afraid I would be required to slap you quite soundly.”
“Hokahe.” He chuckled. “At last you see the advantage in our being married.”
Marietta didn’t answer him right away. In truth, she couldn’t. Something had lodged in and caught in her throat.
Feeling silly for being so emotional, she exhaled, then said, “Do what you must.”