tell with
all that dirt on her face?" Matt asked, puzzled.
"My mother told me. She has seen the girl bathing in
the river. She said that before the girl rubbed dirt back
upon her face, she looked like a moon goddess."
Matt peered at Marna's face, trying to see beyond
the grime.
"Let's turn her over and see to her wounds," Dove
said.
They eased her over on her stomach and discovered
the angry red furrows reaching from her shoulder to the
small of her back. Trickles of blood still oozed from the
long scratches.
"My God," Matt whispered. "I thought it was only
her leg."
When they examined the leg, Matt was thankful it
was not as badly lacerated as he had feared. Probing
with gentle fingers around the teeth marks, Dove
breathed her relief also. "The cat got only the flesh.
There are no punctured veins."
But already there were large patches of red and blue
around the fang marks. Dove sat back on her heels,
murmuring, "She is badly bruised, but it is the scratches
and wounds we must concern ourselves with. The
animal's claws are full of dirt, and who knows what
kind of rotten meat had been in its mouth. We must
begin to try to drain away the poison."
Unnoticed by Matt and Dove, Henry had returned.
He had filled a kettle with water and hung it over the
flames to heat. Then, not knowing what else to do but
still wanting to help, he sat the coffeepot on the fire to
warm. He now sat on the rug, careful to keep his back
to Matt's naked wife.
Dove had just finished bathing Marna's wounds
when pounding hooves came to a stop outside the cabin
door. The door flew open and Hertha stood there. The
wild ride had whipped loose her hair, causing it to
stand out all over her head. Looking more than ever
like an old witch from primeval times, she rushed to her
granddaughter.
Kneeling down beside the unconscious girl, she
whispered, "Oh, no," and turned a dismayed face to
Matt.
Matt looked away from the scared, frantic look,
unable to meet her eyes.
"How did it happen, Matt? What was she doin' out
alone after dark?"
Matt pulled his gaze back to her. "She went to the
spring after water."
It was quiet while Hertha's gaze swept over his set
and strained face. Then, her tone cold and accusing,
she asked bluntly, "Where were you? Layin' with a
squaw?"
Matt's face reddened under her steady gaze, but he
kept his eyes fixed on hers. "It's true, Hertha, I wasn't
here, but I wasn't layin' with anyone. Me and Marna
argued, and I walked out"
Hertha gazed at Matt another moment, then turned
to open the leather pouch that always hung at her side.
Matt watched her, pleading silently with his eyes. When
she continued to ignore him, he touched her arm awkwardly. His voice low, he began to speak haltingly.
"Hertha, I know better than anyone that I've treated
Marna shamefully. I don't know why I did. It was like
there was a stranger inside me. Pushin' me to say things
that would hurt her." He stopped, unable to continue.
He stared down at his clasped hands. Then, as though
speaking to himself, he said, "After what I said to her
tonight, she'll never want to see me again." He raised
despairing eyes to Hertha. "Now that it's too late, I
realize how much she means to me. How much I love
her."
His words died away in a whisper. Drawing a deep
breath, he rose to his feet and left the cabin.
Hertha gazed thoughtfully after him. When the door
closed behind him, she mumbled, "Dratted fool."
Turning back to Marna, she asked sharply of the
squaw, "What's your name, girl?"
Dove smiled at her timidly. "They call me Dove."
An interested gleam appeared in Hertha's eyes, and
she looked closely at Dove. "I saved your father's life
one time. Did you know that?"
"Yes I know, old Hertha. I am deeply grateful to you. That is why I would like to help with the little wild
one if you'll let me."
A smile hovered around Hertha's lips, a tint of sadness in it"So that's what your people call my baby?"
"Yes,
all that dirt on her face?" Matt asked, puzzled.
"My mother told me. She has seen the girl bathing in
the river. She said that before the girl rubbed dirt back
upon her face, she looked like a moon goddess."
Matt peered at Marna's face, trying to see beyond
the grime.
"Let's turn her over and see to her wounds," Dove
said.
They eased her over on her stomach and discovered
the angry red furrows reaching from her shoulder to the
small of her back. Trickles of blood still oozed from the
long scratches.
"My God," Matt whispered. "I thought it was only
her leg."
When they examined the leg, Matt was thankful it
was not as badly lacerated as he had feared. Probing
with gentle fingers around the teeth marks, Dove
breathed her relief also. "The cat got only the flesh.
There are no punctured veins."
But already there were large patches of red and blue
around the fang marks. Dove sat back on her heels,
murmuring, "She is badly bruised, but it is the scratches
and wounds we must concern ourselves with. The
animal's claws are full of dirt, and who knows what
kind of rotten meat had been in its mouth. We must
begin to try to drain away the poison."
Unnoticed by Matt and Dove, Henry had returned.
He had filled a kettle with water and hung it over the
flames to heat. Then, not knowing what else to do but
still wanting to help, he sat the coffeepot on the fire to
warm. He now sat on the rug, careful to keep his back
to Matt's naked wife.
Dove had just finished bathing Marna's wounds
when pounding hooves came to a stop outside the cabin
door. The door flew open and Hertha stood there. The
wild ride had whipped loose her hair, causing it to
stand out all over her head. Looking more than ever
like an old witch from primeval times, she rushed to her
granddaughter.
Kneeling down beside the unconscious girl, she
whispered, "Oh, no," and turned a dismayed face to
Matt.
Matt looked away from the scared, frantic look,
unable to meet her eyes.
"How did it happen, Matt? What was she doin' out
alone after dark?"
Matt pulled his gaze back to her. "She went to the
spring after water."
It was quiet while Hertha's gaze swept over his set
and strained face. Then, her tone cold and accusing,
she asked bluntly, "Where were you? Layin' with a
squaw?"
Matt's face reddened under her steady gaze, but he
kept his eyes fixed on hers. "It's true, Hertha, I wasn't
here, but I wasn't layin' with anyone. Me and Marna
argued, and I walked out"
Hertha gazed at Matt another moment, then turned
to open the leather pouch that always hung at her side.
Matt watched her, pleading silently with his eyes. When
she continued to ignore him, he touched her arm awkwardly. His voice low, he began to speak haltingly.
"Hertha, I know better than anyone that I've treated
Marna shamefully. I don't know why I did. It was like
there was a stranger inside me. Pushin' me to say things
that would hurt her." He stopped, unable to continue.
He stared down at his clasped hands. Then, as though
speaking to himself, he said, "After what I said to her
tonight, she'll never want to see me again." He raised
despairing eyes to Hertha. "Now that it's too late, I
realize how much she means to me. How much I love
her."
His words died away in a whisper. Drawing a deep
breath, he rose to his feet and left the cabin.
Hertha gazed thoughtfully after him. When the door
closed behind him, she mumbled, "Dratted fool."
Turning back to Marna, she asked sharply of the
squaw, "What's your name, girl?"
Dove smiled at her timidly. "They call me Dove."
An interested gleam appeared in Hertha's eyes, and
she looked closely at Dove. "I saved your father's life
one time. Did you know that?"
"Yes I know, old Hertha. I am deeply grateful to you. That is why I would like to help with the little wild
one if you'll let me."
A smile hovered around Hertha's lips, a tint of sadness in it"So that's what your people call my baby?"
"Yes,
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