Something about the awe in his tone, the near reverence in his voice, made gooseflesh prickle her skin even though the spring sun beat down unusually warm. She placed a hand on the calf’s neck, tucking him a little behind her. “I wouldn’t call it white, exactly. More like a rich cream color.”It was darker on its shoulders than its neck, but definitely closer to white than the coffee brown of its mother.
Rosie came to stand beside them. “White Horse said white buffalo are rare, that his people consider them sacred. That they have powers.”
Ol’ Henry straightened, the look in his eyes distant as he nudged up the front of his hat and wiped a sleeve across his brow. “I had a good friend among the Lakota. Spent more than one summer with ’em, and he told me the story. Let’s see if I recall it.”
Ol’ Henry was one of their favorite storytellers around the campfire of a night. He had a way of drawing a tale out in a way that kept you leaning in for more. This time, though, his manner didn’t take on as much drama as usual. Perhaps he wasn’t embellishing any, just remembering.
“The story goes that one summer, all seven of the Lakota Sioux bands came together and camped, but the people were starving because they had no game. Two young fellers went out to look for food in the Black Hills.”
His voice began to strengthen as he settled into the story. “As they were searching, they met a pretty young gal dressed in white. She said, ‘Return to your people and tell ’em I’m coming.’ Then, when she showed up at the Lakota camp, she brought a sacred pipe and taught them to pray and how to be proper Lakota.
“Before she left, she laid down on the ground and rolled four times. Each time she flipped over, she changed color, and on the last roll, she changed into a white buffalo calf. As she left, great herds of buffalo appeared in the camps. After that day, the Lakota held their pipe in honor, and buffalo were plentiful.”
He seemed to come back from his memories. “So you see, the white buffalo is a sign of peace and plenty to the Natives. Not just the Lakota either—every tribe I’ve met that relies on the buffalo for food holds a white buffalo sacred.” He looked to White Horse for confirmation.
The brave nodded, and Ol’ Henry turned back to them. “I can’t ever remember a white buffalo kept as a pet. I’ve only seen one or two skins my whole life, they’re so rare. But once a man gets hold of one, he won’t sell it. Not at all. Not a Native, nor a trapper. It’s bad luck, you see. If you lose the buffalo, you lose the time of plenty, and you’re destined for hardship.”
“Do you really believe that?” Though Rosie spoke with the respect Ol’ Henry had earned from them, a bit of skepticism laced her voice.
Ol’ Henry shrugged. “Don’t matter if I do or not. The facts just now are that Miss Lorelei be standin’ here next to a white buffalo calf. I’m a bit curious how it all came to be.”
When he offered a friendly grin, it was impossible for Lorelei not to return a smile. As she told the story of finding the calf and bringing it back to the ranch, both men listened with intense interest. And when she added the part about Mr. Mason having a milk cow and going to bring some back for them, Ol’ Henry’s brows shot up.
“You don’t say. Well I ... it’s been...” He didn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence.
Dragoon piped up with the missing words. “It’s been longer than I can remember since I’ve had good cold milk to drink.” He rubbed his hand over the grubby buckskin tunic that covered his belly. “Maybe you’d allow us each a sip afore we let this animal drink its fill?”
She hesitated. She shouldn’t think twice about being generous with friends, but this poor calf was nearly half-starved. To these men, the milk would be a treat, but to the calf, it meant the difference between life or death.
But two sips out of nearly three gallons wouldn’t make a difference. She worked to keep any ungracious thoughts from her expression. “Certainly. Now, while we wait, tell us everything that’s happened since we last saw you.”
As Tanner descended the pass again and the ranch spread out before him, his gaze roamed the figures crowded around the fence. Two more than before. A pair of new horses also.
His gut tightened, though he had no reason to think something was amiss. These must be hired hands. Three women and one brave couldn’t handle all these horses on their own.
He had to keep Domino at a walk, even when they reached level ground, so the milk didn’t slosh around too much inside its pouch. The sisters wouldn’t appreciate it if he delivered butter. He shouldn’t have offered to bring it at all—from here on out, they could come daily to get what they wanted. He’d even let them use the large leather pouch he’d stitched on the journey out here to transport large amounts.
But the ride only took an hour, even with him moving slowly. Less than that on the return trip, when he wouldn’t have to worry about liquid sloshing around. Wally had stayed behind to help their chore boy, Kentucky, finish organizing the trade goods, so at least Tanner was the only one wasting time on the second trip.
Long before he entered the ranch yard, the pitiful bawling of the calf rang across the open land. He reined in by the barn and slipped off his gelding, then carried the flask of milk toward the group by the fence.
The pretty woman in the dark red dress stepped away from the group and waited for him to reach her, arms out in eager anticipation. Her smile didn’t beam like a sunray this time. Lines of strain marked her eyes as she took the container from him. “Thank you. He’s rather hungry.”
“Sorry it took me so long.” Though it hadn’t really. He’d poured the milk from the bucket into this traveling pouch, then headed straight back.
A good businessman would have not relinquished his goods without receiving payment, but Lorelei and the calf both seemed desperate for the milk. She pulled the plug from the flask, then poured a little into a tin cup and handed it to one of the men leaning against the fence.
Tanner shot a look at the two newcomers, and recognition slid in. These were the trappers he and Wally had met after leaving the ranch the first time. The way the others crowded around them, they must not be strangers here.
Were they such honored guests they were granted this high-priced treat even before the frantic calf? A pain of envy poked his belly. Not for the milk, but for the favor they’d just been shown.
But then Lorelei bent over the calf and began murmuring as she drew him toward the flask. Tanner had planned for her to pour the liquid into a bucket, not feed directly from his container. Perhaps she didn’t have a bucket. He’d have to clean the flask before he put any more milk in it, though.
Soon enough, the calf caught on and drank from thesmall opening as though from its mother. Perhaps that had been the woman’s intent all along. As the pint-sized buffalo guzzled the meal, Tanner’s gaze lifted to her.
The sunray was back. Pleasure lit her face as she braced herself against the calf’s hungry barrage. What was such a pretty thing doing here in this frontier wilderness? The unexpectedness of her presence must have been what drew him to her. He’d always been good at resisting the temptations of women back in Boston, but he’d let his guard down when he left St. Louis behind.
As the calf drank, he forced his gaze away from the woman. He scanned the rustic barn and cabin, then shifted his focus to the herd of horses in the distance. “Nice place you have here. A lot of horses too.” He turned back to the people lining the fence. “Have you been here long?”
