the LEGEND of She-Cat

Chapter Eleven

If death was carried on the edge of her fierce glare, Conner reckoned he'd be dead three times over. Shifting his grip to her shoulders, his brow arched expectantly. Staring at him in silence, he could tell the wildcat was trying to figure out what he wanted her to say. Last night he'd prompted the words. Today, he was determined to let her choose the course of the lesson. Looking around, she blinked a few times then gazed with faint resentment back at him, slowly lifting her hand. A feathery soft fingertip brushed against the knuckles of his hand.

"Nape," she told him quietly. Lifting it from her shoulder, she ran a fingertip along each of his fingers. "Wanji, nunpa, yamni, topa, zaptan."

"Hand?" He questioned in her tongue, watching as she nodded. When she repeated the words on his fingers, Duncan realized she was counting, and haltingly repeated the sounds under her tutelage. Reluctant, brown eyes moved across him before meeting his eyes, her finger touching his chest.

"Duncan," he told her, but She-Cat shook her head firmly, scowling.

"Wasichu...wica." She corrected herself, tapping his chest. "Wica."

Wica...? Conner frowned a little as she did it again, then grinned.

"Man," he echoed correctly. Her faint smile was reward enough, and he let his fingertip gingerly rest on her collarbone. Resentment blazed in her eyes at the touch, but She-Cat did nothing but stare defiantly into his face.

"Winyan."

Woman. Conner's smile widened. Winyan must be woman. Looking down at her, he realized they still stood inches apart, her head tilted up a little to look into his eyes. Slowly, his free hand moved to cup her cheek, the edge of his thumb caressing her face for a moment. Flames burned brighter in her eyes, but she did not move to push him away.

"That'll do, She-Cat. For now, that'll do fine."

Backing up, he let her climb onto the mare before stepping into the gelding's saddle, leading off. What she was thinking or feeling he couldn't guess, but she hadn't resisted much and she wasn't trying to kill him. Glancing back once, Duncan caught her eyes on him, though they darted away instantly. Chuckling, his spirits lifting, he began whistling softly. This time, he heard the softest hum of her voice in tune with his.

Sometime near noon the gelding's ears swiveled, Conner stiffening as another horse gave a loud whinny at their approach. Before he could react, a rider topped the rise in front of him, pulling up abruptly at the sight of another man. They took each other's measure for a moment, and Duncan held himself still, waiting, but the stranger's eyes never left him. Pushing back his hat, the man relaxed a little in his saddle.

"Howdy! Ridin' far?"

"A piece," Conner acknowledged slowly, unsure about She-Cat but not wanting to risk a confrontation if she was being peaceable. "Been down Mexico way a while. Any trail news?"

After spending so much time alone in the far south, he was surprised at how much the country had grown, new towns and forts dotting the landscape. The rider had valuable information, and shared it freely, as did all who rode the open country. When the stranger still made no comment on Duncan's companion, he casually turned as if to take in the land behind him. Conner was startled to find himself alone, She-Cat nowhere to be seen. The piebald was nibbling contentedly on tall grass, tail swishing. Glancing back at the stranger, he scratched his jaw.

"Any word on the Garnett brothers?"

The stranger's eyes sharpened slightly.

"You tied in with them?"