"No trail,” Buffalo Killer said, breaking the silence.
Skeeter blinked, brought his mind back to the task at hand. “No the storm washed any tracks there would have been away. We'll find who you saw when we get to the dig site."
Buffalo Killer pulled his horse to a halt. “I not go there."
"Why not?"
"It not right.” His long, black hair waved in the wind as he shook his head. “Dig up bones."
"They're not human. They're dinosaurs,” Skeeter explained. A coyote several miles away yipped, the sound fading with the wind. His horse pranced and stomped the ground, ready to move on.
"Still not right. Anger Spirits."
The yip came again, closer, louder. He pulled tighter on the reins, trying to calm the horse. “The Spirits don't care about prehistoric bones."
"How you know?"
"How do you know?"
Buffalo Killer shrugged. “I know."
"You never said that before."
"I not go there."
He rubbed his temples, trying to have a conversation with Buffalo Killer was like talking to a tree. “But you've watched the area, Yokel and the diggers saw you and others on the hills."
Buffalo Killer nodded. “You asked."
"If I ask you to come with me tonight, will you?"
"Not close."
"All right. I understand. I won't ask you to do something you don't want to do. You can go home, just keep an eye out. I'm sure whoever you saw was a family member, but keep an eye out anyway."
Buffalo Killer nodded and without another word, he turned his mount and rode west.
The clouds had moved out behind the storm, giving the moon free rein to lighten the grassland with a muted glow. Few trees hampered his view as he traveled along. The coyote's song made the hair on his neck stand. They'd never bothered him before, but tonight they sounded odd and made him wonder if it was coyotes.
A heavy sigh of relief exhaled when the faint flickers of the excavation campfires came into sight. There were no signs of a man on foot anywhere between the cave and the dig site. Skeeter didn't know if he felt happy about that or not.
He unsaddled the gelding and tethered him with the other horses, then walked into the quiet camp. The click of a trigger being cocked sliced the air. His feet stopped, and he spun his gaze toward the row of wagons.
A sentry stepped out from behind one.
Skeeter held up his hand. “It's me, Quinter. I'm here to spend the night."
The man lowered the gun. “Sorry, Mr. Quinter."
He walked closer to the wagon. “Have you had any trouble tonight?” Nodding toward the compound he continued, “Any strangers in camp?"
"No, Sir. You're brother is still here, though."
"The one who was with me earlier?"
The man nodded. “He's in the big tent."
Several canvas tents were scattered throughout the area, and Cavalry wagons dotted the outskirts. One overly large tent stood in the center of the camp. “How did you weather the storm?"
The man shuffled, rested his long gun across his arms. “No real problems, a few tents leaked, one went down in the wind."
"All right. I'm going to find a place to bed down."
"There's space in the big tent."
"Thanks,” he said and meandered into the camp. Neither time, when he left the house two days ago, or when he left the cave tonight did he think of grabbing a blanket. Not that it mattered, without Lila by his side, he probably wouldn't sleep anyway.
As he pulled the tent flap open, the coyote sounded again. He twisted, searching the dark with no avail. Something about the sound wasn't right. The flap fell back into place as he moved away from the tent, back toward the sentry.
Lila drew a deep breath and let it out slowly as she twisted from the window. The sun danced across the earth, signaling another bright, clear day. In Lila's eyes it was dark, and dank, for it was the third day without Skeeter. Slowly, she glanced around her bedroom. It was quite lovely—very rustic and earthy. Stepping closer to the poster bed, she smoothed the thick coverlet spread across the feather tick.
Though Ma Quinter could be ornery and cantankerous, the woman was Michelangelo of the sewing machine. She'd made the boys load up her huge, heavy, treadle machine before they left her farm. Since arrival, while the men worked on the house, she'd sat in the shade of a cottonwood and created everything from diapers for the baby to the new coverlet and curtains to match. The material was soft, silky, something Lila hadn't thought of pioneers having. It was a dark, rich brown color with golden thread stitched in large swirling shapes across the top.
She sat on the bed, unable to control how her mind wondered if Skeeter would like it. How she wished he'd return. She'd never missed anyone with such ferocity. One hand ran over the front of cream colored dress she wore, one of the dozen Ma Quinter had made for her. Her palm flattened over the small hump of her belly. The flutters below were slight, too faint to be felt outside her body.
Self-doubt was killing her. As an only child, she normally got what she wanted, when she wanted it. A child hadn't been what she wanted, so she chose a reputable adoption agency to find a family who did, but now, sitting in a house that had been built for her, built for this child, made her question her decision. Other than Kid and Jessie, no one knew she came from the future. That, too, had been her choice. She'd asked Skeeter to just say she was from Hays, and everyone readily accepted the story. Just as they accepted his absence the past few days—no one had questioned his whereabouts. Nor had they voiced their thoughts on the argument they'd all witnessed.
The family along with the ranch hands and diggers were excited to be assisting her and Skeeter as they started their life together. She covered her face with both hands. She'd never felt more miserable. She knew what she was supposed to like, supposed to want, but nothing Professor Rutledge taught had prepared her for what she was experiencing right now. Lately, nothing had turned out like it was supposed to. Maybe it was the pregnancy. She'd read on the internet that women's emotions could be out of whack during this time.
A knock sounded behind her. She ran a hand over her cheeks before turning toward the open doorway and pasting on a smile. “Hello, Hog.” The younger brother was a mite shorter than Skeeter, rounder, but the same wide, lopsided grin covered his face. Her heart flopped, and then froze for a split second, aching for her husband.
"Wondering if you're ready for today's cooking lesson.” He hovered in the door way. “I cleaned up the breakfast dishes, but saved you some sausage and biscuits."
She rose, patted her stomach. “Some mornings the thought of breakfast just doesn't settle well."
"Oh, well, if you want to wait awhile...” he glanced around the room.
"No, no, I look forward to your lessons.” She wasn't lying, she did enjoy cooking, always had. But at the same time, without Skeeter here it all seemed useless.
Hog stepped aside as she shuffled through the door, it took too much effort to pick up her feet. “What are we cooking today?” She tried to sound cheerful. Hog was a wonderful cook and extremely excited to show her how to use all the new appliances her kitchen boasted.
"Whatever you want.” He fell in step beside her.
They walked down the stairs from the second story. Her small, compact house had turned into a four-bedroom, double-story lodge. The men had thought her crazy when she asked them to change the design to leave most of the ground floor open. Large log support beams were all that separated the kitchen from the dining and living rooms. The wide staircase made a subtle curve as it lowered into the center of the immense space below. She'd also instructed the hand-hewn wood walls be left exposed and overseen the building of a large breakfast bar, complete with tall stools.
Once everyone else had seen the completed project, they liked it, including Kid. Or maybe he was just being nice to her because she'd quit badgering Jessie. She didn't have time to fret about her sister-in-law; she had her own worries and decisions to make.
"What's it gonna be?"
"I have no idea,” she sighed.
Hog glanced her way.
She smiled, at least she hoped it was a smile, and realizing they were talking about two completely different things said, “Whatever you decide. You're Emeril, I'm just the rat."
"Uh?"
She sighed. “Ratatouille, it's a Pixar cartoon."
"A what?"
"Nothing, nothing, I guess my mind was in another place, another time,” she admitted as they strolled around the open bar.
"I'm sure he'll be back in a couple of days,” Hog said as he pulled a chair away from the table for her.
She nodded but didn't answer because a clank and a bang followed by a groan echoed from the back of the house.
Hog chuckled as he set a plate on the table. “That's Kid. He's trying to install that new wash-out Skeeter ordered."
Lila glanced toward the washroom. The wash-out was quite a sight. The latest invention in indoor plumbing had nearly made her double over with laughter. It was made of sparkling white porcelain and embossed with blue flowers more elaborate than any of the china dishes behind the glass doors of the built in buffet along the side wall of the kitchen. Two wagon loads of furniture as well as the outlandish toilet had arrived yesterday, sent from the mercantile in Nixon.
The heavy, sick feeling of guilt settled deeper in the core of her stomach. Everyone was working so hard on a house that would soon stand empty. She glanced around, wishing things could be different. Wished she'd been born years before—so she could stay in this century forever.
A swift movement made her press a palm to her abdomen. The baby rolled, as if trying to telling her it, too, wanted to stay in the past. The thought was like a double edged sword.
"Lila?” Hog asked. “Lila, are you all right?” His hand pressed against her cheek. “You're awfully pale this morning."
She swallowed, nodded. “I'm fine."
"Don't fret, Skeeter will be back soon."
"I hope so,” she sighed.
A noise in the front yard grew loud enough to draw Kid out of the washroom. “Who's here?” he asked.
Hog shrugged, moved toward the window.
Lila pushed away from the table, glanced toward Hog, and then hoping beyond hope it was Skeeter, quickly followed Kid to the front door. He held it open for her to step out first. Moving across the wide veranda she noticed a Conestoga wagon pulling into the yard. “More furniture?” she asked Kid.
"No, it looks like Willamina and Eva.” He took her elbow to escort her down the steps.
She'd met Willamina, an old woman who was quite bent over with osteoporosis, and Eva, a young, silent girl, a few weeks ago. The odd couple lived in a sod house near Kid and Jessie. Skeeter had introduced her to them during their trip to Nixon to purchase the surprisingly, comfortable, low-topped boots she wore in place of her flip-flops. She frowned, looked up at Kid. “Why would they be here?"
"Probably just being neighborly,” he shrugged as they walked across the dirt.
"Neighborly? They had to travel two days to get here."
Kid chuckled. “Willamina's like family. I'm surprised she waited this long before coming."
A crowd had gathered, and by the time the wagon stopped even Ma Quinter had left her sewing machine to greet the guests. Kid helped Willamina down while Snake assisted Eva. The old woman lifted her head toward the house. A moment later, she pushed the wide brim of her bonnet back, giving her intense stare clear vision. “Well, Lord and all that's holy! That there is one of the finest houses I've ever seen."
Jessie stepped forward, wrapped her arms around the woman and nodded her head. “Lila designed it. Wait until you see the inside, it's breathtaking."
Lila pressed a hand to her warm cheek, unsure why the compliment embarrassed her.
"Well, land sakes! You are as bright as I thought."
This time she gaped.
Willamina stepped forward, took her arm. “Come on girl, show me the rest. I'm itchin’ harder than a dog full of fleas to see the inside."
Everyone around chuckled, and for the first time in three days, Lila felt a real smile grow on her face. She waved an arm. “Right this way."
The old woman latched onto her elbow. “The house looks just like you."
"Excuse me?” She glanced down at the woman.
A gnarled, red hand pointed. “The shingles have a touch of red to them. The way the sun is shining on the upper windows reminds me of your green eyes, and the roof over the porch looks like your smile.” Willamina's twinkling eyes glanced between her and the house. “Just like you, this house adds a touch of beauty to the prairie fields."
Lila's gaze went from the woman to the house. A silly, warm feeling threatened to make her laugh aloud. She glanced back to Willamina. “Thank you, that's a wonderful compliment."
"A little out of place, but right beautiful,” Willamina added.
A frown tugged on her brows.
Before she could comment, Jessie said, “Lila has worked so hard."
Kid cleared his throat, Jessie giggled and left Willamina's other side to hug her husband. Lila felt a hard tinge of jealousy, missing Skeeter even more than before.
"The men have done all the work, I just explained how I wanted things to look in the end,” Lila said as they climbed the front steps.
"Well, it looks like they did a right fine job."
Lila became a tour guide, showing all the rooms to Willamina, and proudly presented all of the wonderful furnishings filling the house. Graciously, she pointed out the uniqueness of each room, each touch of care the men and women had used in creating and decorating the showcase. She couldn't have been more proud if she had been the first lady showing off the Whitehouse.
The tour ended near the stone fireplace. Willamina turned to Eva. “Do you have their present?"
The girl nodded, turned toward Kid. He held a large canvas wrapped package.
"Where's Skeeter?” Willamina asked, glancing around as if she'd just noticed he wasn't near.
"He had to go check the bone excavation,” Hog said, coming to stand next to Lila. In comfort he patted her shoulder.