Cherish the Dream

by Kathleen Harrington

  “You loved her very much, didn’t you?”

  “She was the only woman in my life, mignonne. The only one I ever wanted. Even now, I miss her. Her high spirits, her chattering, her singing, her warmth filled my winter lodge. Yes, I loved her dearly.”

  Jacques dismounted and lifted Theodora down. He walked beside her toward the tent she shared with his son. “It’ll be the same for Blade,” he continued with a tender smile. “You’ll be the only woman in his life, though I never dreamt he’d fall for a bluestocking from Massachusetts. But when I saw you together the first time, I knew you were meant for each other.”

  “Does it seem that way to you?” she asked in disbelief. “We really have very little in common. He’s a professional soldier, with a life of exploring the wilderness ahead of him, and the product of a warrior culture. I’ve seen him kill a man with his bare hands.” She shook her head at the memory. “I was raised in a family that abhorred physical violence for any reason. Even self-defense. And I’m a scientist, a scholar who’ll go back to her library and her research when this journey is over.”

  “Look around you, Theodora. You’re standing in the world’s largest classroom.” Jacques threw his arms wide, gesturing to the magnificent vista of mountains that surrounded them. “Where could you find a better place to do your research than right here beside my son?”

  She put her hand on his buckskin sleeve in a plea for understanding. “But Blade and I are so different,” she said. “Sometimes he even frightens me.”

  “Well, ma fille, as your Quaker grandmother surely told you, you must follow your inner voice. But I sincerely doubt you will ever meet another man who’ll love you more than my son does.” He grinned suddenly. “Besides, if I know Blade, I don’t think he has any intention of letting you get away from him. For pure strength of will, a Cheyenne warrior’s hard to beat.”

  Theodora was silent for a moment, following another train of thought. “You said Whirlwind Woman could have left her abusive husband. When I was in Blade’s village, no one mentioned that divorce was acceptable. How does a Cheyenne wife go about leaving her spouse?”

  Jacques looked at her with open suspicion for a long minute, but he finally answered her. “An unhappy woman can just pile the man’s belongings outside her tipi. Since the lodge and its furnishings all belong to her, the brave must find another place to live.”

  “That’s all there is to it?” Theodora was incredulous. “Of course,” she added thoughtfully, ignoring his skeptical regard, “if there’s no written marriage document, it stands to reason that the divorce would be just as simple as the wedding.”

  That evening Snow Owl and her husband, Pierre du Lac, were to join the members of the campaign for supper. Delighted with the prospect of her company, Theodora felt her spirits rise. She’d learned from Jacques during their excursion that Snow Owl and Tall Boy would soon be returning to the mountains with Pierre for the winter trapping .

  Theodora wanted to give Snow Owl a gift to show how grateful she was for all her kindness. She searched through her few meager belongings for an appropriate present. The idea of giving Snow Owl any of her clothing seemed ludicrous. The Indian woman’s dress of antelope skin was far more suitable for the wilderness than any of Theodora’s dresses. As she refolded her clothes, the reflection of light from her hand mirror caught her eye. It was made of carved ivory, with a cameo on the back. She picked it up and looked at herself in the glass. Here was a gift only she could give Snow Owl!

  After tying three bands of colored hair ribbons in a big bow on the handle, she wrapped the mirror in a fringed blue shawl. She’d miss both the shawl and the mirror, but she wanted to give Snow Owl something really special. As she placed the gift on her opened bedroll to be ready for that evening, Blade entered their tent.

  He stood quietly, the worry on his battered, bruised face clearly evident. They hadn’t spoken to each other since the evening before.

  The wounds on his face from the beating he’d taken were stark evidence of his intention to keep her with him. “Theodora,” he said in a cool, emotionless tone, “I need to talk to you.”

  She looked away, certain that if she met his gaze she wouldn’t be able to maintain her outward calm or her sense of purpose. After her talk with Blade’s father, she was more confused than ever. Could Jacques Roberts be right? Did she and Blade actually have a great deal in common, including a future that would mesh both their lives? She fought to keep her voice calm. “Yes, well, here I am. What is it you wish to say?”

  Blade hooked his thumbs in his belt and watched his wife in silence. He wondered if this would be their last night together, for if she chose to leave with the pack train heading for St. Louis in the morning, they might never see each other again. He ached to enfold her in his arms, to kiss her and demand that she stay with him. But he had to give her the choice to return home safely, without influence from him. Was he wrong in not telling her that he suspected someone was trying to kill her?

  “Bonniville is sending a caravan of beaver plews back to St. Louis. It’s leaving in the morning. One of his assistants, George Warfield, will be carrying papers all the way to Washington.”

  Theodora looked up at him, as if to question why he was telling her this.

  “If you choose, you may return home with Warfield.”

  His words stunned her. She could only stare at him. “Is that what you wish, then?” she asked, and the steadiness of her voice astounded her. Jacques had certainly been wrong about his son’s intention of keeping her beside him. What else had he been wrong about?

  “What I wish isn’t important, Theodora. The choice is entirely up to you. If you continue with us, you’ll be facing incredible dangers. I can’t emphasize that enough. What you’ve been through is only a taste of what lies ahead. We have a desert to cross, and after that the Sierra Nevada Mountains. And we’ll be going without charts or maps to guide us. If you’re wise, you’ll turn back now.”

  “And if I choose to continue?” She walked to the far side of the tent and faced the canvas wall. She looked down at her hands and blinked; her knuckles were white as she clasped them tightly together.

  His words were precise, detached. “If you decide to stay with the expedition, Theodora, I must continue to sleep in your tent for your own safety. And I’ll appreciate all the help you can give me on the cartography. Other than that, I’ll make no demands of you.”

  Whirling to face him, she met his aloof gaze. His complete turnabout astounded her. The marks on his face belied his words, but his stoic expression gave no hint of his inner feelings. Damn him! When he turned Cheyenne warrior on her, he was impossible to read. Yet he understood her thoughts as though he saw into her very soul.

  In spite of his previous avowals to keep her as his wife, he was setting her free. But at what a price. If she didn’t continue with the expedition, her plans to dedicate the map work in Tom’s name would be irrevocably lost. She had only one chance to complete the cartography as though Tom had done it himself. And that meant continuing on this campaign.

  “I’ll need some time to think,” she whispered. “When must you have my answer?”

  “You don’t have to let me know till tomorrow morning. We’ll be pulling out then, too. Until it’s time to join one of the columns, you can put off the final decision. In the meantime I’ll leave you alone to think.” He turned to leave, then hesitated. “I know you believe that you hate the wilderness, that you can’t survive out here. But when you were with my people, Theodora, it was as though you’d been born on the plains. You were the happiest I’d ever seen you.”

  She stared in astonished silence, for that was exactly what she had thought about him.

  Then he bent and left the tent.

  Chapter 25

  Theodora crossed the noisy campsite, lit only by scattered fires, toward the herd of horses grazing in the clearing. A wild celebration was in full swing, as each man tried to make the most of his last evening at the rendezvous. Fo
r the trappers, tomorrow would start a fall and winter of loneliness, hardship, and possibly even death. For the soldiers, daylight would mark the beginning of the last and most dangerous leg of their historic journey. All around her, groups of men drank, sang, whooped and hollered, and drank some more.

  After the evening meal, which she and Snow Owl had helped Julius Twiggs prepare and serve, she’d given the young woman the hand mirror and shawl. Now Snow Owl sat beside her husband and Peter near a campfire, listening to Zeke and Jacques trade tall tales. Theodora knew she wasn’t supposed to leave the bivouac area, but she was consumed with restless energy. Everyone was so engrossed in Zeke’s yarn that they didn’t even notice her slip away.

  As she moved through the clusters of mountain men and dragoons, she searched unsuccessfully for Blade. She knew he’d left after supper to say farewell to his grandfather. No doubt Painted Robe and her husband would talk far into the night.

  She left the noise of the revelry behind her and walked into the quiet, moonlit meadow. Halting when she saw a soldier on duty, she realized as he turned toward her that it was Wesley Fletcher. She hadn’t seen him since the day before, when they’d ridden in. She assumed her husband had kept the lieutenant away from her on purpose. Since the first day at Fort Leavenworth, Blade had seemed annoyed whenever Fletcher came near her. But unlike the blond lieutenant, Blade had never repeated vicious innuendos about his rival.

  Sergeant O’Fallon had told her that the animosity between the two officers went all the way back to West Point, and she wondered what could have happened to cause them to hate each other. She’d never seen Fletcher do anything that wasn’t strictly according to military protocol, yet none of the dragoons appeared to respect him. While her husband’s mere glance could straighten up a private’s slouch, more than once she’d seen a soldier smirk and mimic the Georgian behind his back.

  “Lieutenant Fletcher,” she called in greeting.

  “Miz Gordon.” Fletcher tipped his cap and moved to her side. “I’ve been in charge of the animals since the captain’s return. I was just checkin’ on the pickets. “He made no attempt to hide his bitterness. “I understand that Benjamin Bonniville is sendin’ a pack train of furs back t’ Saint Louis in the mornin’. I hope y’ have considered goin’ back with them.”

  “Yes, I’m thinking about doing just that, Lieutenant.”

  “That’s exactly what we should all be doin’. If Roberts hadn’t shown up when he did, the entire expedition would be goin’ back home. The men were extremely disappointed when he informed them we’d be headin’ west int’ God knows what kind of wilderness.” As he bent over her his tone grew softer. “May I take this opportunity t’ say how glad I am that you’ve returned safely?”

  In the moonlight she tried to search his face for a clue to his real feelings. All she could see clearly in the shadows were his tawny mustache and the glitter of his pale eyes.” I . ..I appreciate your kind thought, Lieutenant.”

  “Miz Gordon,” he said, as he took her elbow, “stay for a few minutes. I’d like to talk to y’, and we might not get another chance t’ be alone.”

  “Very well, Lieutenant.” Theodora followed his lead and walked beside him through the buffalo grass, away from the camp.

  “I wanted to tell y’ that I understand what happened in the Indian camp with that half-breed. I wanted to be sure y’ didn’t blame yourself.”

  Wondering where his conversation was leading, Theodora said nothing until, at last, his silence became annoying. “I take full responsibility for my own actions, Lieutenant.”

  He leaned his carbine against a large boulder and swung around to face her. As though afraid she’d run away, he gripped her wrists in a painful hold. He spoke earnestly. “But that’s just the point, Miz Gordon. Y’ weren’t responsible. Roberts is an accomplished womanizer. Y’ wouldn’t have had a chance t’ withstand his smooth, practiced lies. My only worry is that y’ may still believe him.”

  “Just what are you talking about, Fletcher?”

  I’m talkin’ about the well-known prowess of Captain Blade Roberts. He sees any good-lookin’ female as a possible conquest. He counts his seductions like the savages count coups. Why, he was almost dismissed from the Point because of a woman. Ask him and see if he denies it!”

  Fletcher’s accusations astounded Theodora. Whatever else Blade’s faults might be, insincerity had never been one of them. “The captain’s past is not up for discussion, Lieutenant. I haven’t the least—”

  “Teddy!” Peter’s worried voice carried on the evening breeze. “Teddy, where are you?”

  “I’m over here,” she called, and gratefully turned to meet him. “Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant Fletcher,” she said as she moved away .

  Fletcher watched her go with a scowl of disgust. He reached down, picked up his carbine, and silently followed them .

  As Theodora walked back into the campground with her escort, a bullet whizzed past her ear and struck the cottonwood tree beside her. Reacting instantly, Peter shoved her to the ground, and another ball zinged across the clearing over their heads, the blast barely noticed in the wild clamor of the camp site.

  Lying on her stomach beneath Peter, her cheek pressed into the trampled grass, she caught her breath and squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Hold still, Teddy,” he said in her ear, his apprehension evident. “Cripes, I can’t even return his fire. If I move, you’re liable to be hit.”

  Suddenly Blade was crawling across the ground beside them his rifle cradled on his forearms. “Stay where you are, Haintzelman. Theodora, don’t move.” He scanned the moonlit clearing and waited for another explosion with its accompanying flash of light.

  Two shots came one right after the other, followed by the answering blast of Blade’s carbine. A man screamed in the dark, and at last the campsite grew quiet.

  “I’ve got him, Captain,” Lieutenant Fletcher called from the meadow. “It’s safe now.”

  Blade raced across the tall buffalo grass in a low crouch, reloading his carbine as he ran. There were no more shots, and when the sound of the two officers’ voices carried into the bivouac, Peter helped Theodora to her feet. From the campfires others raced over to see what had happened, and together the crowd hurried to where Blade and Fletcher stood over a crumpled heap of buckskin.

  Fletcher rolled the corpse over with the toe of his cavalry boot. The dead trapper had been hit right between the eyes.

  Zeke pushed through the onlookers to stand beside Blade. “That thar’s Bushwhacker Willie, Shrady’s pardner,” he said. Blade turned to Theodora, grasped her hands, and pulled her to him. “Are you all right?” His gaze roved over her dusty form.

  The front of her dress was covered with dirt, and she could feel a smudge of grit on her cheek. Her heart was slowly returning to its normal rhythm. “Yes, I’m fine. Peter saved my life.”

  Blade turned to the lieutenant. “What were you two doing way out here, anyway?” he asked with a scowl.

  Ignoring Blade’s thunderous look, Theodora answered for her friend. “Peter was escorting me back from the meadow. I had gone for a walk.”

  “By yourself?” Blade’s roar was so loud she jumped. “Jesus!” He turned back to Peter, his rage crackling like lightning on a stormy night. “What the hell are you thinking of, Haintzelman, letting her wander around alone?”

  Peter’s face was set in grim humiliation. Behind his wire spectacles, which had been knocked askew and sat at a crazy angle on the end of his nose, his blue eyes blinked with painful self-accusation. It was clear that he was prepared to take full blame for the close call to the captain’s wife. But before he could speak, Theodora interrupted. “I wasn’t alone, Blade. I was talking with Lieutenant Fletcher.”

  The absolute fury in his deep voice told her there wasn’t anything worse she could have said. “My orders were for you to be guarded by Lieutenant Haintzelman,” he shouted, “and I expected them to be obeyed to the letter.”

  “I�
�m not one of your soldiers, Captain Roberts,” she snapped back. “I don’t follow orders without a reasonable explanation. And I won’t be hollered at.”

  He lifted her completely off the ground as he yanked her to him. Holding her up by both elbows, he said angrily, “You’ll follow my orders, Theodora, or you’ll feel the palm of my hand across your backside.”

  Not one person in the crowd around them moved so much as a muscle. It was clear to Theodora that they were waiting for her answer with morbid curiosity. She also came to the sickening realization that, if Blade turned her over his knee and spanked her right then and there, not one man would lift a finger to help her. As far as they were concerned, he had every right to discipline a disobedient, uppity wife.

  She met his angry eyes with obstinate resolution, fighting to maintain her outward calm. “I suggest we continue this discussion in the privacy of my tent, Captain.”

  Heedless of the disappointment among their captivated audience, Blade set her on her feet and strode beside her to the shelter.

  As soon as she was inside, she picked up one of his packs. Staggering under its weight, and without even glancing in his direction, she carried it through the doorway and dumped it on the grass. She returned, only to snatch up a strap on one of his saddlebags and drag it across the tent floor. By then, the exit was blocked with his towering frame.

  “What the hell are you doing?” It was clear he’d expected her to scream and rail at him, not ignore him with exasperating calm.

  She tilted her head and smiled pompously at him, like a tutor with a particularly large, dull-witted pupil. “Can’t you tell?” she asked him with false sweetness. I’m divorcing you.”

  “You’re what?” His thundering roar shook the canvas walls.

  “You heard correctly, Blade. I’m divorcing you. A Cheyenne wife has the right to protect herself from an abusive spouse. That’s exactly what I’m doing. From this moment on you can consider yourself my former husband. Now if you’ll please get out of my way, I’ll finish stacking your belongings outside my tent.”