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“Don’t try to talk.” Ella fidgeted with her skirts. What should she do now? “I’ll get my father. He’ll know what to do.”
“No!” The man jerked forward and grimaced. “No white men. Please.”
“But my father’s a preacher. He won’t harm you. I promise.”
He reached for her and grabbed her forearm. His black eyes melded to hers. “No. Please. Promise.”
Was it his tone that convinced her? The pleading in his big black eyes? The strange yet pleasant sensation of his hand on her arm? “I won’t. I won’t. Calm down. Let me take a look at your leg.”
He nodded, and Ella whisked away the soiled hay. Sukie bawled. “Yes, I know you need milking, but you’ll just have to wait.”
“Milk…her,” the Indian man said through clenched teeth.
“No, she can wait.”
“Please.” He hissed as he inhaled. “It is not right for an animal…to suffer.”
“But it’s all right for you to suffer?” Ella shook her head. “A fine thing.”
“We have a duty…to the animals we keep. To care for them.” He thunked his head against the barn wall, closed his eyes, and exhaled. “My wound can wait. Milk her.”
“If you insist.” How hard-headed could one man be? Clearly he wasn’t acquainted with Sukie. Ella picked up her pail and positioned the milking stool, sat down, and grasped two of the swollen teats. The cow bawled again. “See?” Ella gestured her head toward the Indian. “She’s not any happier now that I’m milking her. She just likes to whine.” Ella squeezed, and a stream of milk swooshed into the pail.
“She…does not know any better. She is old, yes?”
“Nearly as old as I am, truth be told,” Ella said, as more milk hissed into the pail.
“And how…old are you?” he rasped.
“Eighteen, a month ago today. You?”
“I have seen…twenty-five winters.”
She looked up from the pail. The Indian’s eyes were closed, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and cheeks. She whisked the bucket out from under Sukie and brought it to the Indian.
“Enough of this nonsense,” she said. “The cow can wait. You need tending. Here”—she held the pail to his lips—“fresh milk. Drink.”
“D-Don’t want it.”
“Did I ask you if you wanted it? No. I said drink. You need sustenance. When did you last eat?”
The Indian took a sip of the frothy milk. “This morning, before sunrise.”
“And it’s nearly suppertime now. Goodness. Take another.”
The Indian drank several more sips. “Enough.”
“For now,” Ella said. “Let me see your leg.” She began removing the sticky blood-soaked hay.
“You…do not fear me.”
“You’re hardly in a position to do me harm.”
“But if you came upon me. In the wild…”
“Then I’d likely run away screaming.” Ella said. “Is that what you want to hear?” She gasped at the extent of his wound. Flaps of his beautiful bronze skin gave way to blood and muck. “What on earth did you do to anger that bear?”
“It was…a she-bear. Not her fault. She was protecting her cubs.”
