Cherish the Dream

by Kathleen Harrington

  Blade chuckled softly in her ear and inhaled the sweet fragrance of wildflowers that drifted from her hair. “Are you sure you really want to learn to shoot a gun, Miss Gordon? The carbine’s almost as long as you are tall.”

  “Yes, I’m sure, Captain Roberts,” she snapped, afraid he’d suspect her true feelings. “You never know when some vicious creature might attack you. Next time I’ll be ready.”

  She pulled away from him, averted her eyes, and began to reload the weapon just as O’Fallon had taught her.

  Why did she feel so confused every time she was near the brutish captain? Hadn’t he tried to seduce her, then told vicious lies about her at the hearing? This physical reaction to him could be controlled. All she needed to do was listen to her intellect and not her erratic feelings. No other man had made her behave like a romantic schoolgirl, and she wasn’t going to let this lecher be the first.

  Just then O’Fallon came over to Blade. “Was there something wrong now, sir?”

  Blade’s voice was detached and professional. “No, Sergeant, I was just helping Miss Gordon. Carry on.” He turned and left without another word.

  They spent the afternoon drilling on the loading and firing of the carbine, during which time various members of the camping party wandered out to the grassy knoll to watch their progress. The mountain men were intrigued by the new percussion rifles, but professed their faith in their own reliable muzzle-loading muskets. O’Fallon was a thorough drill instructor and insisted that they practice reloading the rifle over and over, until the twins felt they could have done it blindfolded.

  “Do we get to keep these, Sergeant?” Tom asked.

  “That’s what the Captain told me.” O’Fallon turned to Theodora. “But a little colleen like yourself had better keep it in her saddle holster except in an emergency.”

  “If there’s an emergency,” Lieutenant Fletcher drawled as he joined them, “I’ll look out for Miz Gordon. There’ll be no need for her t’ worry her pretty head about usin’ firearms.”

  “Sure and we all know we can count on you in a crisis, Fletcher,” the sergeant said cryptically before he turned and departed.

  Fletcher stretched and yawned. “This conversation’s much too tedious for a sweet thing like you, Miz Gordon,” he admonished. He took her elbow. “Let’s excuse ourselves and take a walk together before supper time.”

  “Supper?” Theodora cried in concern and pulled away from him. “Is it that late already? I’ve got to help Mr. Twiggs prepare the meal.”

  “I think it’s disgustin’ that you’ve been given the humiliatin’ task of helpin’ that nigra half-breed t’ cook,” Fletcher complained in annoyance. “A gently bred lady isn’t asked t’ do the menial chores of servants.”

  Tom regarded his sister with genuine concern. “Does it upset you to help with the cooking, Teddy? I could speak to Roberts about it.”

  “I don’t mind, truly.” She reached for his arm, as if afraid he’d leave to seek out the captain at once. “I want to be a real part of this trip. I told Captain Roberts I would do my share of the chores and I will.”

  Hooking his fingers in his sword belt, Fletcher tossed his blond head and sneered in disdain. “Roberts doesn’t have the slightest idea what a real lady should do. He’ll expect y’ t’ work like a squaw. He’s as primitive as a half-naked savage. And even less perceptive.”

  “Nevertheless, Lieutenant,” Theodora replied, as she felt a flush spread across her cheeks at his comparison, “I promised Julius I would help gather firewood for supper, and I intend to do it.” She glanced at her brother. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me?”

  The supper was delicious. Twiggs had a flair for cooking over an open fire, and the venison that the hunters had brought in that afternoon was served in juicy steaks, accompanied by carrots and potatoes.

  After the cleanup, Theodora sat on a fallen log in the fading sunlight, a small pair of scissors in her hand. During the day she had broken three fingernails, and with resignation she began snipping off the rest.

  Blade paused to watch her pare them down with ruthless determination. “That’s too bad about your lovely nails, Miss Gordon. Life on the trail can be rather harsh.”

  Theodora thrust out her chin and gazed defiantly into his black eyes. His solicitude didn’t fool her. He was only trying to point out one more reason why she should have remained at Fort Leavenworth. “I don’t mind, Captain Roberts. I’ll gladly sacrifice my long fingernails to be on this trip. I’ll chop off my hair, if I have to.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he quickly replied. A look of concern crossed his rugged features. “Don’t even think of cutting it, Miss Gordon. If it becomes too much of a bother on the trail, you can always braid it.”

  She regarded him with curiosity. It seemed strange for him to be so concerned about such a personal decision as the length of her hair, considering all the serious problems facing him in the weeks ahead. She remembered Fletcher’s scornful remark that Blade wouldn’t even know how to treat a lady. Was he really the barbarian that Fletcher painted?

  “Is there some problem, Miss Gordon? Is it that you don’t know how to braid hair?”

  Theodora jumped up and shook the folds of her skirt. She didn’t need to be reminded that, so far, she’d been a complete failure. “As a matter of fact, Captain,” she replied defensively, “you finally hit upon something I can do.” Stung by his patronizing words, she turned to go. “Good night.”

  Blade caught her elbow and held her effortlessly to the spot as he tried to read her thoughts. He didn’t regret the phony seduction attempt in the stable; he’d done it to save her life, and he’d do it again if he thought it would work. But since her participation in the expedition was now a fact, he wanted to set the bad feelings aside. Instead of indifference on her face each time she looked at him, he yearned to see her bewitching smile—the one she bestowed so frequently on Fletcher. “I’m sorry I upset you the night we met, Miss Gordon. My intentions were honorable, even if my actions were not.”

  “Your actions were despicable, Captain.” She looked away from his frank gaze, apparently determined to hold on to her righteous anger.

  “Perhaps. But what happened that evening went far beyond what I had planned, believe me. Surely you can feel that there is something special between us?”

  “Oh, there’s something between us all right!” she spat out. “There’s a memory of being assaulted for me and a possible court-martial for you!”

  Blade gripped her shoulders with his strong fingers and pulled her to him. “Is the memory of my kiss so unpleasant, Miss Gordon? Or is it that the feelings I aroused in you were deeper than you’d ever felt before? Did your fiance ever kiss you like that?” Jealousy of the unknown suitor flamed up inside him. “Did you respond to his kiss the way you did to mine?” His touch burned through her shirt, and she trembled at the passion in his ebony eyes. She felt as if she were splitting in two. One part of her wanted to treat him with the cold disdain he deserved; the other longed to put her arms around him and renew that soul-wrenching kiss.

  “Martin Van Vliet is a gentleman—something you’d know nothing about. He gave me a chaste betrothal kiss on the night of our engagement, with the approval of my father and grandmother. Now, let go of me, Captain Roberts,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “The entire camp is watching!”

  Inexplicably, his deep voice softened. “Be thankful they are, vehoka, or I’d be tempted to prove my point.”

  Releasing her, Blade watched as she stalked over to her tent. Relief at her words quenched his jealous fears. Despite her passionate response to his kiss, no man had ever known her intimately. Of that he was certain. Although why that thought brought such a feeling of satisfaction, he couldn’t begin to fathom.

  Chapter 6

  That night a fine, steady rain came out of the north, bringing with it a lingering touch of winter. The first drops hitting the roof of the tent woke Theodora, and she burrowed under the blankets as she
listened in trepidation to the sound of the wind shaking the canvas. But despite her concern, the shelter proved a snug haven, and it stood finn against the buffets.

  “Tom, are you awake?” she whispered into the darkness, trying in vain to see her brother asleep on the other side. His only answer was a light snore. He’d always been a sound sleeper.

  Restless, she stretched and rolled onto her back. She pulled the covers up to her chin, stared at the canvas ceiling, and thought about Blade Roberts. The handsome captain continued to baffle her. His charming efforts to befriend her, starting from the first day on the trail, seemed so contradictory to his wanton attempt to seduce her the night they met. Not once since they’d left Fort Leavenworth had he given her any reason to suspect he would repeat his lecherous actions. But what did she want from him? A warm flush crept over her as she re membered the feel of his tongue touching hers so intimately. Somehow the more she thought of it, the less shocking it seemed, though she certainly hadn’t known that a man would want to do that. What else would a man want to do? she wondered. She wished she had spent less time memorizing phyla and more time listening to the chatter of the other young ladies at Mount Holyoke.

  The camp came alive to the call of reveille. Yawning, Theodora quickly pulled on her buckskins and rain poncho, jammed on her boots, and stumbled outside. The rain continued, and in the darkness she could barely make out the shapes of the men as they scurried about, repacking the supplies and checking the animals. Behind her, Tom groped for his breeches .

  “Ye gads, what time do you think it is?” he moaned, his hazel eyes heavy-lidded with sleep.

  “I’m not sure.” Theodora glanced over her shoulder and laughed at his expression of horror. “But I don’t think either of us has ever been awake at this hour before. Hurry up, or we’ll be left behind!”

  Quickly they repacked their bedrolls and dismantled the tent. Following her brother’s lead, Theodora walked into the cluster of nearby cottonwoods. Tom waited a short distance away while she attended to her needs. The evening before, Roberts had explained the forthcoming routine to them, adamant that Theodora never be left alone beyond calling distance. Her cheeks had flushed when he phlegmatically explained the rules for her daily toilette, no more perturbed than if he had been addressing a child who might have to get up in the middle of the night. She had been unable to meet the disinterested eyes that glittered like black jets in the firelight. For once at a loss for words, she had nodded to indicate her understanding, grateful to Tom, who confidently assured the captain that he would be responsible for his sister’s personal needs.

  They left the grove and walked to the edge of the creek. Kneeling, they splashed water on their hands and faces and shared a bar of soap. Then they hurried to catch their hobbled mounts and grab a handful of corn bread and sliced ham from Twiggs on their way past the wagon.

  The rain came down in a steady stream that first full day on the trail, and by evening, when they made camp, an exhausted Theodora climbed down from the saddle on shaky legs. Her hair was plastered to her head; her hat and gloves were cold and soggy. She pulled at her leather skirt; it was soaking wet and clammy against her legs. Every muscle ached, and despite her best efforts she groaned, realizing that she would have no rest for a long time to come. The animals had to be tended, the tent erected, and the evening meal prepared before she could even consider relaxing. Yet she yearned to crawl ignobly into her tent (after someone else raised it for her) and fall sound asleep.

  So far she hadn’t made a single entry in her journal, or gathered one botanical specimen, or sketched a solitary example of the many birds she’d seen during the last two days. Holding Athena’s reins, she sat on the drenched ground, her elbows on her upraised knees, her head lowered to her forearms, and wondered how she would ever get the energy to stand up again.

  Blade appeared out of the pouring rain and stood before her. With an effort she raised her head and looked up at him. His deep blue cape accentuated his broad shoulders. From her ground-level vantage point, he resembled a small mountain. Even through the downpour she could see the glint of triumph in his mocking eyes.

  “Tired, Miss Gordon? It’s still not too late to change your mind. I could easily send you back under escort, and the men could catch up with us in a few days.”

  The strength she had despaired of only moments before surged through her. Theodora jumped to her feet. “I was simply waiting for orders, Captain,” she snapped as she drew on all the resources of her willpower to remain standing.

  His devilish grin made his sharp, clear-cut features appear almost boyish. “In that case, just report to Twiggs. He’ll keep you busy.”

  The routine of the trail was established in the next few days, despite the foul weather. The troupe rose long before dawn, ate a quick breakfast beside the spring wagon, packed the mules, saddled the horses, and moved out while it was still dark. Ezekiel Conyers, accompanied by the three French Canadians, formed the advance scouting party; they rode well ahead, marking the trail and hunting, as well as finding the next campsite with the three necessary qualifications—plenty of grass, wood, and water. In addition, each site was chosen for its defensive attributes: high ground with ample water. The caravan traveled until mid-afternoon, set up camp, picketed the animals, took turns standing watch, and ate an early meal. And each time they came to a creek or a spring, they crossed before making camp, lest the rains increase and hamper the fording.

  The men grew increasingly worried about the weather, for as they covered the miles, they seemed to be riding into the worst of it. At last, on the eighth morning out, the rain stopped, the air grew still and heavy, and the sun shone for several hours.

  “Hallelujah!” Twiggs called to Theodora from his wagon seat, his gold tooth flashing. A huge, dilapidated Mexican sombrero covered his grizzled head. “Sunshine at last!”

  Cold and miserable, she lifted her face to the wanning rays. “Oh, doesn’t it feel good, Julius?”

  She never heard his answer, for ahead she saw Conyers, the French Canadians at his heels, racing his horse toward the front of the column. He gestured to Roberts as he came at a ground devouring gallop. At a call from Blade, Sergeant O’Fallon wheeled his horse around and shouted to Corporal Overbury. The orders came down through the ranks: Make camp. At once.

  Leading the way, Roberts and Conyers headed for the highest ground available—a small, treeless rise, well above the banks of Vermilion Creek. The animals, nervous and skittish despite the calm, sultry air, tried to break through the cordon of herdsmen, who methodically lassoed and side-hobbled them one by one. Theodora watched in puzzlement as even the two dairy cows were lashed and hobbled. Together, soldiers and mountain men worked at a breakneck pace raising the shelters and picketing the livestock, but even as they labored, the storm appeared on the flat horizon.

  The tempest moved with incredible speed, its black clouds flying across the darkening sky. Far off, tremendous bolts of lightning sliced through the clouds, followed by boom after boom of crashing thunder. Terrified, the horses whinnied and the mules brayed, as they tried to shake off their bonds and flee.

  Watching helplessly, Theodora turned and spotted Conyers close by. The mounting wind whipped his gray beard into snarls and threatened the eagle’s feather on the slouch hat he clutched to his head. She ran to him. “What is it, Zeke? What’s happening?”

  He placed his hands on her trembling shoulders. “Don’t you worry yore pretty head, Miss Gordon. We’ll be all right. But it’s gonna be a real prairie waterspout, yesiree. Yore saddle and bedroll in the tent?”

  She nodded as the first sprinkles hit her face.

  “Good. Now find yore brother. Then pull yore personal belongin’ s inside the tent and sit tight.”

  With tremendous velocity the storm approached. Peeking out from the flap of their tent, Theodora and Tom watched. It didn’t just pour. The rain came down in sheets as though rushing headlong over a falls. Cascades of it were beaten by the high winds and t
ossed in every direction. Across the plains the water rushed, filling depressions on the ground and turning them into ravines of raging torrents. The angry wind smashed the downpour against their refuge, and they looked at each other with awe.

  Outside in the deluge they could see dim shapes trying to calm the frightened livestock. With the rain came huge, rounded chunks of ice. The hail pounded on the men and cattle. It bounced off the taut canvas until all they could hear was the sound of it beating on their fragile shelter.

  Despite her fear Theodora tried in vain to discern the shape of her beautiful chestnut. “Athena will be terrified! I’ve got to go to her!”

  Before Tom could answer, she crawled through the small opening, holding her hands over her head and face to protect herself. Her brother was right behind her, and together they raced toward the horses, nearly blinded by the downpour that blew directly in their faces. Large chunks of hail pounded on them, making it almost impossible to continue.

  At last they reached the others, who held the restraints of the rearing, plunging animals.

  “Athena!” Theodora screamed into the wind. “Athena!”

  All the horses had been tied securely to a long rope, and the twins raced along it, each searching blindly for his own. Tom nearly stumbled by High Flight, only to recognize the gelding at the last minute. He grabbed the lead line and reached up to pat its neck.

  At last Theodora found Athena, safely lashed beside the captain’s gray stallion.With both the horses’ fetters held tightly in his hand, Blade was stroking their necks and talking to them continuously.

  Theodora reached up, pulled on Athena’s rope, and patted the mare’s nose. “It’s all right, girl,” she cried over the roar as she tried to keep her face protected from the hail. “I’m with you now!”