Cherish the Dream

by Kathleen Harrington

  Theodora gripped her brother’s arm. “No one can swim that far in such a current,” she said. “He’ll never do it.”

  “He’s got to, Teddy,” Tom answered. “If you’ve never prayed hard before, now’s the time to start.”

  Blade’s powerful arms flashed through the water, taking him closer and closer to the opposite bank despite the pull of the swift current. At last he reached the shore. He staggered up the incline and bent over, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He held the cord in his hand and signaled with it to Conyers, who attached a lariat to the other end.

  Theodora slowly expelled the breath she’d been holding. “Thank God.”

  “Thank Roberts!” Tom exclaimed. “What a feat!”

  They watched as the rope was pulled across the river and tied to a cottonwood on the other side. Then Blade walked to the edge of the river and waited.

  Spellbound, Theodora stared at him until she realized that he was looking straight at her. Even from that distance she could see his mocking grin, and she felt the heat rise on her cheeks in mortification. Well, if he’d drowned, she told herself as she turned her back, he wouldn’t have thought it was so funny!

  Conyers, with War Shield’s reins looped around his wrist, Lejeunesse, and Guion were the first to cross, swimming behind their horses while holding on to their tails. The rope acted as a guide, and they held on to it, keeping it between themselves and the downward pull of the current. Each man dragged a rope behind him.

  “Load the wagon bed!” Blade shouted across, dressed now in the dry breeches and jerkin that had ridden over on War Shield’s back.

  Quickly, several men under O’Fallon’s direction loaded the cooking utensils onto the inverted wagon. Packs of supplies were then placed on the makeshift raft. The signal was given and the men on the far shore pulled it across with the rope, straining to hold the wagon steady against the wild current. Two more times the wagon-boat was floated across piled high with provisions.

  At last, Sergeant O’Fallon called to Theodora. “Get on your horse, lass. We’ll be taking those who can’t swim across right after this load.”

  With trepidation, Theodora took Athena’s reins from Lieutenant Fletcher and led the chestnut down to the water. “I thought I’d ride over on your boat, Sergeant,” she said with a nervous smile. She pushed a strand of hair from her eyes and prayed that her stark terror didn’t show.

  Understanding lit his blue gaze and his rough, gravelly voice rang with encouragement. “No, mavourneen. You’ll be much safer on your own sweet little filly. The wagon bed isn’t all that steady. Sure and it could easily tip over, darlin’, and land on top of you. Now don’t you be worrying none, for we’ll be tying you to your saddle so you won’t be falling off.”

  O’Fallon lifted her into the saddle. He checked the halter and stirrup straps, tightened the girth, then took the reins and led Athena to the water’s edge. There he picked up a rope made of lariats and slipped one over the mare’s neck. Behind her, Theodora saw Corporal Overbury, his face pasty white with terror as the lariat was slipped over his mount’s head. Directly in back of him came a young private. She wondered in distraction if she was the same moribund green as he was. With a feeling of doom she watched as the same procedure was repeated for the other three soldiers who couldn’t swim, until all six horses were tied together. More than anything, she wished she didn’t have to cross that rain-swollen river.

  Then Louis Chardonnais tied her to her saddle.

  From under his coonskin cap he grinned at her with sympathy. “Don’t be afraid, ma fille. Just hold on to her mane. The men on the other side will guide her across with the rope. Even if she stumbles, she won’t throw you. You’ll pass over in perfect safety.”

  “Aye, get her tied nice and tight,” O’Fallon said, coming up to stand beside her and check Chardonnais’s handiwork.

  Theodora glanced at her brother, who stood nearby watching with deep concern, then nodded her readiness. She knew her attempted smile came out a sickly grimace. “See you on the other side, Tom,” she said.

  When the horses had been strung out in a single line and everything was prepared, Chardonnais carefully led Athena into the water, while Roberts, Conyers, Guion, and Lejeunesse pulled on the rope from the opposite side. One by one the horses began to swim across, guided by the men on the far shore.

  Theodora stared at the swirling flood and clutched Athena’s mane, her heart pounding. She gasped and gritted her teeth as the cold water came up to her waist. Beneath her, she could feel Athena straining, stretching her legs in long, powerful strokes. As the first person in line, Theodora was directly behind the wagon bed loaded with the scientific instruments. Suddenly, one of the casks broke loose and floated down stream, bobbing wildly in the white, frothy water. The raft bounced with a jerk, and the telescope slipped out of its leash and plopped into the water in front of her. Without thinking, Theodora reached down to grab it when it came by.

  As she stretched, her saddle came loose and slid off Athena’s back. Terrified, Theodora plunged into the icy water. Down, down under the freezing torrent she slipped, holding desperately to the telescope in her panic to grab onto something solid. Tied securely to the saddle, she rode the current that tossed her about like some evil, smothering dragon from a childish nightmare.

  Theodora knew she was going to drown. She hadn’t a chance of loosening the rope around her waist. She clung to the telescope, knowing that when they found her, she’d be clutching it in her death grip. At least her dying wouldn’t be a total waste.

  On shore the men watched in horror as her blond curls disappeared under the water. It had happened so fast, she hadn’t even cried out.

  “Teddy!” Tom screamed. He splashed into the river, boots and all. Peter was right behind him.

  “You’ll never make it, Gordon!” he cried in Tom’s ear. He threw his arm around Tom’s neck and pulled him off his feet. Waist-deep, the two young men fell into the water, limbs thrashing as Tom struggled to shuck off his unwanted rescuer. When they surfaced, Chardonnais and O’Fallon were at their side, and Tom was held fast by a pair of strong hands.

  “You’d not be reaching her, lad, before the captain,” O’Fallon said.

  Lifting Peter like a matchstick in his burly arms, Chardonnais nodded in agreement. “Oui, if anyone can save her, the capitaine will.”

  Tom looked across the river through blurred eyes and saw that Roberts was already in action.

  Blade had raced for War Shield and leaped onto his back. He guided him into the deathly cold water as he estimated rapidly the point at which he would intersect Theodora’s lethal ride downstream. Urged on by his beloved master, the magnificent stallion swam with all the strength in his body.

  Blade thanked Maheo for the strong current as he battled his way across its savage onslaught, for without it the girl and saddle would have sunk like a stone.

  Desperately, he scanned the torrent and spotted her wet hair streaming out across the water. He reached down and grabbed the stirrup strap. The weight of the saddle and its unconscious rider, sucked along by the current, almost pulled the strap out of his hand. He tightened his grip and used his knees to guide War Shield along beside Theodora. His long knife flashed, freeing her from her bonds, and he lifted her up over his shoulder.

  Beside him, Zeke Conyers swam his own big roan. He reached out and grabbed the telescope that fell from her numb arms. As the saddle came by, he plucked it out of the deluge as well.

  Theodora lay perfectly still across Blade’s shoulder, her face and limp arms hanging, her boots trailing in the water, her ivory skin turning blue. As War Shield’s hooves struck bottom her stomach was jarred and she coughed, then started choking. Blade struck her hard on her back, and she retched and gasped for breath.

  Once on the bank, Blade pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted. He slid Theodora off his shoulder and held her tightly in his arms. “Get me some blankets!” he shouted as he carried her up the grassy ba
nk with long strides. “And get a fire started. Now!”

  Laying her on the grass, he stripped away her soaking clothes. In spite of his fear, he felt a surge of raw lust at the sight of the graceful arms, the perfect round breasts, the tiny waist and slim hips, the long tapering legs, the delicate hands and feet. He’d never seen a more exquisite female shape, all smooth and soft and ivory. While he worked over her, frantic to revive her, in one corner of his mind he laid her beautiful, naked body on a fur-covered bed and explored the luscious curves with slow, sensual abandon.

  Ruthlessly, he shoved his errant thoughts aside. He jerked off his damp buckskin shirt and pulled it over her, then rubbed her cold arms and legs in a frantic attempt to revive her circulation, for he knew she was suffering from loss of body heat. “Theodora! Theodora! Wake up,” he called, the dread in his voice reaching through the fog that surrounded her. “Look at me, vehona.”

  Slowly, Theodora’s lids fluttered,and she gazed mesmerized into his gorgeous midnight eyes, framed by their thick black lashes. Strange, she thought in confusion, I never noticed till now the silver flecks in them.

  “Am I still alive?” she whispered.

  He leaned over her, his hands pressed on either side of her head. “By God, don’t ever scare me like that again, or I’ll wring your little neck.” Despite his harsh words, relief shone on his face.

  In bewilderment she lifted her icy hands to his bare arms and slid her fingers across the bulging muscles of his biceps. She explored the powerful chest and wide shoulders that she had admired only a short time before on the opposite riverbank. Warmth seemed to leap from his bronze skin, to trace paths of fire up her fingers and hands. Without questioning her own motives, she raised up toward him. She slid her arms around his neck. He moved back on his knees, raking her with him, and she cradled her head against the base of his throat. “I’m so cold,” she confessed, as she snuggled her cheek against the straight black hair on his chest. “And you’re burning up.”

  He chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s no wonder I’m hot, princess. Your touch would set a eunuch on fire. And I can guarantee you, I’m an absolutely normal male. So if you don’t want me to explode like a fiery volcano, you’d better stop running those dainty fingers across my bare skin.”

  At his words Theodora came to her senses. Unable to meet his gaze, she held her hands perfectly still, too embarrassed even to remove them.

  Basil Guion rushed to their side, and Blade reluctantly pulled her arms from his neck and wrapped the woolen blankets Guion had brought around her.

  Next to her, Lejeunesse started a fire, and gradually Theodora felt the warmth return to her body. She tried unsuccessfully to get up, but the weight of the blankets seemed to hold her down.

  Blade gently pushed her back onto the soft sod. “You stay right where you are, Theodora. I don’t want you moving for the rest of the day. We’ll build the camp around you.”

  “Yes, sir!” she quipped weakly. “Any more orders?”

  Tenderly, he pushed the wet strands of her hair away from her forehead. “One more. The next rest day, you’re learning how to swim. And I’m the one who’s going to teach you.”

  Huddled beside the fire, Theodora watched while the fording continued. Easing their frightened mounts into the swirling water, the men drove the herd of horses, mules, and two cows across. Wide-eyed with fear, the animals swam with their necks up, their nostrils flared, and their tails flat out on the rushing torrent.

  Tom and Peter came across together, side by side. They held onto the tails of their horses and shouted encouragement to each other.

  After the backbreaking task of dragging the axles and wheels across with ropes, the men reassembled the wagon. Twiggs reloaded his supplies and the scientific instruments, including the priceless telescope, and then began to prepare supper, whistling joyfully.

  Wrapped in her blankets, Theodora realized with dismay that she was nude under Roberts’s shirt. The thought that she had been stripped while unconscious was so disconcerting that she hid in her tent as soon as it was raised. Tom came in three different times to check on her. She assured him that she was all right, just humiliated to have made a public spectacle of herself. It took all her courage to join the others for supper, but the looks turned on her told her clearly that every man there was simply thankful she had survived. Expressions of concern and kindness poured forth, even from the rough French Canadian trappers, who knew little of the niceties of society. Wesley Fletcher, solicitous of her every whim, hovered about her. He ran his graceful white hand through his sun bleached curls and repeated over and over, “How terrible! Y’ might’ve been killed, Miz Gordon! Y’ could have died in that river!”

  Over the banging of Twiggs’s pots and pans, she overheard Sergeant O’Fallon as he talked with Blade. “Faith, Captain, and I checked her saddle myself,” O’Fallon declared. “Why the girth was as tight as a drum.”

  Blade and Zeke Conyers closeted themselves in the captain’s quarters immediately after supper.

  Standing in the middle of the tent, Zeke pushed up his fur trimmed hat and shook his gray head. “Well, I reckon this hyar’s purty hard to believe, Blade, but that thar strap’s been cut by a knife for shore. ’Twarn’t jest ordinary wear and tear that split that leather. No siree. Some sneakin’ polecat cut that girth, shore as we’re lookin’ at it.”

  Blade turned the saddle strap over in his hand and slowly nodded in agreement. “Yes, but who, Zeke? Who would want to harm Theodora?”

  Blade lifted the closed flap and stared at the mixed congregation spread out in front of him. Was it a mountain man, who hid a secret hatred of women? Or a lovesick trooper, angry and jealous in his unrequited love for her? Or a demented killer, who struck at Theodora merely because she was an easy prey? Blade closed the flap and flung the strap on his bedroll. “Whoever it is, Zeke, we’ll find him. He’ll trip himself up sooner or later. In the meantime, don’t tell anyone about this. Except for you and Julius, Haintzelman and O’Fallon are the only men on this expedition that I can completely trust. If the bastard doesn’t know he’s under suspicion, he’ll be a lot less careful. And that’ll make him a whole lot easier to find.”

  “Yer dern right, Blade. We’re gonna have to smoke this skunk out, and when we do, he’s gonna stink to high heaven. Meantime, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. You jest keep your eyes peeled on that li’l gal.”

  Blade met his scout’s piercing brown gaze with determination. “I intend to do just that.”

  At the sound of footsteps approaching the tent, the two men fell silent. With a look of suspicion, Conyers lifted the flap. Theodora stood holding Blade’s shirt folded carefully over her arm.

  “May I speak with you, Captain?” she asked in a soft, shy voice.

  “Certainly, Miss Gordon. Come in.”

  “Reckon I’ll be moseyin’ along, Cap’n,” Zeke said. He touched his hat and nodded. “Miss Gordon. Glad you’re still here with us, li’l gal.”

  As Conyers left, Theodora stepped inside the tent. “I wanted to return your shirt, Captain. And to thank you for saving my life.” She knew that the effort it cost her to mention the use of his garment was evident in her rosy cheeks and her lowered lashes. Each time she thought about him removing her clothing, or the way she’d run her hands over his bare chest and shoulders, she wanted to hide her face in her hands. But she also knew he’d acted solely to save her life.

  “If it’s any comfort to you, Miss Gordon, no one saw you undressed but me. I was between you and the others and had you covered with my shirt before Guion brought the blankets.” Theodora lifted her lashes and met his open, unembarrassed regard. “Thank you, Captain. It helps to know that. Being the only woman on a scientific expedition has its disadvantages.”

  His teeth shone white and even under his black mustache as he grinned. The gold earring winked in the candlelight. “Well, look at it this way, Miss Gordon. Earlier this afternoon, you saw me without a stitch of clothing
on, so you really aren’t at a disadvantage where we’re concerned.”

  “Well, at least I didn’t parade up and down on the bank in front of you,” she snapped, indignant that he would mention her previous ogling of him.

  “No, miss,” Blade replied, instantly solemn and penitent under her accusing glare. “You surely didn’t.” But the smile never left his eyes.

  “You are the most provoking man!” she retorted, shoving his shirt into his hands and turning to leave.

  “And you are the most enchanting woman,” he replied. But she’d already departed the shelter and didn’t hear him.

  The smile hovering on his lips faded as he recalled the harsh reality of her near drowning. When he discovered who had tampered with her saddle girth, he’d stake the bastard out on the prairie and—flay him alive. The other members of the expedition would believe it was an atrocity committed by the heathen Pawnee. Only Conyers and Twiggs would ever suspect it was the work of a vengeful Cheyenne.

  Chapter 8

  After crossing the rain-swollen Big Blue River on the tenth of June, Blade Roberts knew the scientific aspects of the expedition must begin in earnest. A major purpose of the mission was to create large-scale maps of the region backed by detailed topographical surveys. Passable trails had to be charted and grades and elevations determined with mathematical accuracy.

  In the early evenings, he and Tom Gordon retired to his tent, where the oil lamp burned long after the other men had turned in for the night. Working over the collapsible map table, they charted the longitude and latitude of their daily position, the altitude above sea level, and the high and low temperature readings taken during the day. Frequently, Theodora worked with them, helping her brother draw the detailed maps. To Blade’s surprise, they were an extremely professional team, collaborating as harmoniously as neighbors at a corn-husking party. Each seemed to know the other’s intent before it was even expressed.