Page 48 of West Wind

He leaned over and reached behind her ear. His hand came away with a single feather, a long eagle feather with a horsehair tuft at the tip.

“That was in my hair?” She raised a hand to her ear. “Did someone… put it there?” Her already weak voice faded. While she’d slept someone had placed the feather behind her ear. She’d felt nothing.

“That’s not all.” He turned away from her; she jumped to her feet to follow. Tethered next to his roan was her own horse, the mare that had been a gift to Swift Eagle. Her saddle was still on its back.

She smiled with relief. It had been Red Wolf, she was certain, who’d placed the feather in her hair and returned her mare.

“Isn’t that sweet?” she said, sighing. The daylight came softly, quickly, providing enough light for her to see Shelley scowl.

“Sweet? They could’ve slit our throats while we slept.”

“But they didn’t,” she answered reasonably. “I told you Red Wolf wouldn’t allow it.”

Shelley shook his head. “You’re too damn trusting, Annie. Dammit, I didn’t hear a thing!”

That’s why he was so gruff, so angry. He’d slept through the Indians’ visit.

“Check the saddlebags,” he snapped.

One compartment held her hairbrush and mirror. She crossed to the other side and tossed back the leather flap. She stared at the contents for a moment before drawing them out.

“What are these?”

He took the items she placed in his hand. “Well I’ll be damned.”

She didn’t even attempt to remind him of their agreement. “What are they?”

He held aloft a leather bag attached to a thong. “This is a medicine bag. The Indians believe if you wear it, it will protect you.”

“And this?” She held up what looked like a man-made spider web, a crude circle made with a supple twig and laced with fine strings that crisscrossed in a symmetrical web across the opening that was not much larger than the span of her hand.

“Dreamcatcher,” he said, the anger in his voice gone, replaced with wonder.

“What’s it for?” She held it up to the brightening sky and watched the sunrise play through the web.

“It’s a child’s toy, meant to stop bad dreams,” he whispered as she slowly lowered the dreamcatcher. “Do you know what this means?”

She bit her lower lip. “They were watching us that first night?”

He nodded. “And yesterday afternoon you asked for a hairbrush. I’ll bet that black dress isn’t in there.”

She shook her head.

“You said you didn’t mind losing it,” he reminded her. “Look at this.” He held the final item in his hand, a beaded belt with a buckskin sheath for the knife she’d taken from Swift Eagle.

She gave the belt a cursory glance, then turned her eyes back to the dreamcatcher in her hand. A toy? She studied the crudely crafted article with wonder. Was it the reason she’d slept peacefully for once?

“What in the hell did you say to that old Indian?”

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant. “Not much. We just… made a deal.”

“Well, you must’ve said something,” he snapped. He held the feather in front of her face. “See this horsehair at the end? Do you know what this means?”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Your first coup.” Shelley placed the feather back where he’d found it, behind her ear. “For bringing Swift Eagle down.”

“Red Wolf is a nice old man, and I guess he feels protective toward me,” she insisted. “That’s all.”