Blade shook his head, a crooked grin of reluctant admiration slowly spreading across his face. “You little she-devil,” he said softly. “If you honestly think I’m going to let you divorce me, that sharp-witted brain of yours has gone begging.”
“You can’t stop me.” She lifted her chin. “I know my rights. We had a Cheyenne wedding, and now we’re having a Cheyenne divorce.”
“You’re not even Cheyenne, vehoka,” he scoffed, emphasizing the word that meant “little white woman” and refusing to budge from the doorway.
“Oh, but I certainly am,” she replied in triumph, for she’d known he would bring up that point. “I’m the adopted granddaughter of a chief. Painted Robe would be the first one to tell you that I can have a divorce if I want one.”
Blade crossed his arms over his chest and stood with feet apart in a stance of mule-headed determination. “Well, I’m only half Cheyenne, Theodora. And the white half of me doesn’t believe in it.”
She looked at him, nonplussed. That was one argument she hadn’t expected. “You can’t do that, Blade,” she protested. “You can’t play by one set of rules getting married and another set getting divorced.”
He gave her a wolfish smile. “Who’s going to stop me? Besides,” he added, leaning slightly toward her, “so far tonight I haven’t even laid a finger on you.”
Theodora released her grip on the saddlebag strap and sighed in resignation. As long as he stood in front of the doorway, there was absolutely nothing she could do. “Why were you so angry with me, anyway?” she asked. “All I did was go for a little walk. Who could have predicted that some crazy, drunken trapper would go on a rampage and start shooting at the campsite?”
Blade hesitated, wondering once again if he should tell her that it hadn’t been an accident. That someone was actually trying to kill her But no doubt she’d be safely on her way back east in the morning, and there wasn’t any reason to frighten her tonight, now that she was in her tent for the evening. With the five soldiers stationed around it to guard her through the night, there was no need to alarm her.
“I just want to be sure you’re safe, vehona. That’s all.” He waited for her reply, and when there was none, he continued. “I can’t stay and argue with you any longer, Theodora. I have to meet my father and Zeke to go over the route we’re taking to the Great Salt Lake. When I come back, I expect my things to be right where they are now.” Hating to leave her standing there, flushed and angry, her stubborn chin jutting in the air, he looked at her for a long minute, then quietly stepped from the tent.
That night Theodora lay on her bedroll and stared at the roof. She went over and over in her mind all the reasons why she should return to St. Louis. First of all, there was her so called marriage to Blade Roberts. It would never work. If anything proved they were incompatible, the events of that very evening did. From the first moment they’d met, they’d scrapped with each other like fighting cocks at every turn. How could she even consider spending a lifetime with him?
That afternoon he’d caught her by complete surprise when he’d suggested she return with the pack train. He’d offered her no clear reason why he’d changed his mind so unpredictably, and even though he seemed to think it was the wisest choice, still he insisted that they remain married. For it was clear that he believed the marriage was binding, and the longer she stayed with the expedition, the more firmly she would be tied to him. If she truly wanted the freedom to choose a more suitable mate, she should go now, while she had the chance.
The image of Martin Van Vliet rose to her mind. Before she’d met pig-headed, cantankerous Blade Roberts, she had thought the middle-aged publisher was the perfect choice for a husband. Quiet, urbane, learned, he was the epitome of the sophisticated New Yorker. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never even raised an eyebrow at her in anger, let alone his voice. True, he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Blade, but then few men were. She had to ruthlessly discount the scintillating magnetism that drew her to the captain. She was much too intelligent to believe that physical attraction was a sound basis for choosing a lifetime partner.
Despite the fact that she didn’t love Martin, they had much in common. Theirs would have been a marriage of two perfectly matched workhorses pulling a single plow. Safe. Secure. Dull. Restlessly, she smoothed the covers beneath her hands and pushed that disquieting thought aside.
The second reason for returning east was her family. She knew her father was anxiously waiting for her to arrive with the botanical specimens she’d collected. She now had enough new flora to fill her journal; there was no need to continue on for more. As it was, it would take them months to categorize and catalogue her new discoveries. And there would be the excitement of seeing her journal published. How proud her father and grandmother would be. Perhaps, in some little way, it would soften the tragic grief of Tom’s death.
The third reason to turn back was the danger of the journey itself. Blade had warned her that the worst was yet to come. She knew they would have to cross an uncharted desert only to enter a formidable barrier of mountains through which no pass had ever been charted. Could she survive the trip? Blade had told her that he’d changed his mind—that he now believed she could thrive on the frontier. She’d seen the Cheyenne people living as one with the land, the very land that had claimed Tom’s life.
And what about Tom? Standing on the cliff at Scott’s Bluff, she’d promised her brother to continue his work, so that his death would not be wasted. She longed to see his dream fulfilled and his name on the maps that would be printed. Men and women would safely cross the wilderness in the years to come because of them. She wiped tears from her cheeks, rolled onto her side, and prayed for the answer. Drifting to sleep at last, she heard once again the words her brother had spoken: Go now, Teddy. Cherish our dream. Do everything we came out here to do. Don’t Let my death be in vain.
In her sleep she smiled. She had her answer.
* * *
Blade entered their tent carrying the pack Theodora had dumped outside on the grass. He noted with satisfaction that the rest of his things had remained untouched. Exhausted and disappointed to find her sound asleep, he pulled off his buckskin shirt and his boots in the soft glow of the lantern. Knowing this was their last night together, he wanted to talk to her, to reassure her just how much he did care about her, even when he ranted and raved like a wild man. He’d learned only a few minutes earlier that Big Joe Shrady had died, never having regained consciousness. The body of a young Snake woman had been discovered in her lodge just that afternoon; she’d been sexually used and then cold-bloodedly strangled to death. An investigation had revealed that she’d been bartered by her family for a pack of beaver plews to Bushwhacker Willie. More than ever, Blade was certain that both Shrady and his partner could have provided the name of Theodora’s stalker. Now both were dead.
Blade walked quietly over to his sleeping wife. She lay on her side, a smile curving her delectable mouth. What had she found to smile about? he wondered. He crouched on his haunches and gazed at her. Oh, vehona, will you leave me in the morning? Must I stand by and watch you go, knowing that it’s for your own protection?
Blade reached down and lifted a blond curl. He rubbed the silken lock between his thumb and forefinger. Desire for his beautiful bride flamed up inside of him. He wanted to lift her in his arms and carry her to his bedroll, where he’d waken her with his hands and mouth. She’d fight him at first, but he could easily subdue her. Yet he knew that even if he stirred in her the same passion that now pounded through his veins, she’d never forgive him. She’d leave here in the morning hating him. And he didn’t want her to return home that way. When his mission was over, he’d go to Massachusetts and get her.
Bending over, Blade brushed his lips softly against hers. “You stubborn little bluenose,” he whispered. “I love you so.”
Chapter 26
The next morning Blade was already gone when Theodora awoke. All of his personal belongings had been ta
ken from the shelter while she slept. Most of her own packing had been done the night before, and her baggage, too, had been quietly removed. She quickly dressed in her buckskin skirt and cotton blouse, and with Calvin Belknap’s help, took down her tent. She was soon ready to join the others. How would Blade feel, she wondered, when she told him that she was going to continue with the expedition?
But she was unable even to get near him. He was closeted inside his quarters, having a last-minute meeting with Conyers, Chardonnais, and his father, as well as the junior officers. Disappointed yet oddly relieved, she grabbed a quick breakfast from Julius and saddled Athena, knowing Spitfire would be brought along in the herd of extra mounts. With her heart pounding in her chest, she led her mare to the group of dragoons, who sat on the crushed buffalo grass waiting for the signal to mount up and pull out.
When Blade emerged from his tent with his staff, he sought her out immediately, as though drawn by some mysterious force. Seeing her waiting beside the soldiers, he quickly ordered O’Fallon to move her supplies, which had already been loaded on the pack mules. A private whistled and drove the animals into position in front of the large herd of horses. As Blade’s tent was hurriedly dismantled, he said good-bye to his father and moved off to confer with Benjamin Bonniville.
The fur caravan, heading for St. Louis, left first. Amidst the noise and confusion, Jacques came over to Theodora, and together they watched it pull out.
“Well, mafille, I see that perhaps our little talk has changed your mind about that reprobate son of mine,” Jacques roared happily. He lifted her high over his head, then smothered her in a ferocious hug. “I’ll see you on your way back through South Pass next summer. Maybe by then I’ll have a little grandson on the way.”
His smile was so wide, so loving, she didn’t have the heart to disabuse him of the assumption that she’d decided to remain in the expedition as Blade’s wife. “Good-bye, mon père,” she said, kissing his bearded cheek. “Till we meet again.”
After giving his huge hand a final squeeze, Theodora mounted and took her place beside Peter in the column that quickly formed.
Blade rode up and reined War Shield to a halt in front of her. He lifted his slouch hat politely. “I take it you’re coming to California with us, Mrs. Roberts.” He didn’t smile, and Theodora found it impossible to read his guarded expression.
“I’m going to finish what I came out here to do, Captain. We have an agreement about the cartography, and I intend to live up to it. I want those maps published in my brother’s memory. And I would appreciate it if you’d address me as ‘Miss Gordon,’ since it is my legal name.”
Blade flashed a grin. “The maps will be printed with Tom’s name on them. When I make a promise, I keep it.” He wheeled his stallion around. “And I prefer to call you ‘Mrs. Roberts,’ since you are my wife—legally or otherwise.”
He rode off before she had a chance to reply.
Four days after leaving the trappers’ rendezvous, the United States Scientific Exploring Expedition reached the headwaters of Bear River, at the western edge of the buffalo range. Here Captain Roberts halted to prepare for the dangerous desert crossing.
The dragoons had been issued buckskin outfits provided by Benjamin Bonniville; their uniforms, as well as the Yankee spring wagon, had been left at his fort. Seventy-six days on the trail had turned them into hardened veterans. Now dressed in the standard attire of the mountain men, all traces of the greenness they’d shown at Fort Leavenworth had disappeared. They looked exactly like what they were posing as: a brigade of free trappers in search of beaver.
The soldiers, as well as the French Canadian voyageurs, now knew their final destination. The first night out of Horse Creek Blade had read aloud the secret orders from the War Department, directing them to discover a passage through the formidable Sierra Nevada range.
When they pulled into the grassy valley of Bear River to make camp that afternoon, it was hot and windy. Theodora had ridden beside Blade all day. She’d spoken to him only when necessary since they’d left the rendezvous. Dismounting before he could help her down, she hurried away to see to the raising of her tent. She’d have time to collect some plants before assisting him with the map work.
During the next few days, everyone in camp helped Julius Twiggs prepare the carcasses brought in by the hunters. The buffalo meat was cut into strips approximately an inch thick and scored crisscross. It was then spread out on racks of cottonwood poles, high enough to keep it safe from wolves, rodents, and other scavengers, where the wind and smoke from the hot coals beneath dried it into jerky.
Some of the jerky they pounded into a pulp. This they mixed with the melted buffalo fat stored in rawhide bags. Sometimes they threw in dried berries. Julius even added maple sugar to one sack.
The pemmican was stored in ninety-pound bags. By the end of the week they had prepared enough nourishing food that would keep fresh over the days ahead for the entire expedition.
On the last evening at Bear River Blade stood outside the tent that served as his office and gazed westward. Each man had been provided with four horses, a stack of blankets, buffalo robes, and every article needed to make the journey safely. Each soldier had a new carbine and plenty of ammunition. There was sixty pounds of substantial meat per man. He’d consulted with the nearby Bannock Indians, reviewed once more the sketches his father had drawn of the area around the Great Salt Lake, and had had last-minute discussions with Conyers and Chardonnais. The explorers were going into country that few men, white or Indian, had ever seen. Beyond that they would enter a land that no human eyes had ever witnessed. They were as prepared as he knew how to get them.
Only one thing had been left unsettled. He had still not made peace with Theodora. Since leaving the rendezvous, she’d successfully avoided him. The few times he’d caught her watching him, she’d looked confused and wary. She always managed to be sound asleep by the time he could at last leave his work and turn in. He’d known that hers was a sleep of exhaustion, for she’d been working as hard as any man for the last few days.
Blade puffed on his cheroot and turned to look at his sleeping quarters, where he knew Theodora was preparing for bed.
When he’d realized back at Horse Creek that she was going to continue with the expedition rather than return to St. Louis, he’d been elated. He wanted Theodora beside him. He was confident that no one could look out for her safety better than he. There would be plenty of time in the days ahead to overcome her doubts. He was certain he could bring her around. But he had to admit, in the last days he hadn’t made much headway. Still, she was in her tent, and the sight of her in her lacy nightgown, sound asleep on her bedding, was a heck of a lot better than having her miles away in the care of some stranger. He smiled to himself. Like the memory of her surrender in the Cheyenne lodge, the image of her cool, ivory limbs beneath his hot hands was even better.
The trailblazers headed toward the Great Salt Lake the next morning, their faces turned into the west wind. They crossed a land of contrasts. Ponderosa pine and spruce forests rose above a desert floor inhabited by lizards and kangaroo rats. Gradually, it became a horizontal land of sagebrush and salt flat, and Theodora could see the signs of the animals most adapted for survival: coyotes, mule deer, and jackrabbits.
She rode beside Blade, who continued to treat her with complete dispassion. Though unfailingly polite, he seemed to be perfectly satisfied with their present estrangement. Yet, he still took time to tell her about the plants and animals they saw.
“It looks as though nothing could survive out here,” she said in wonder. “Yet it teems with life.”
He smiled at her amazement. “It’s quiet now. But at night around the water holes or streams, there’ll be a frenzy of activity. Night is when the animals venture out to replace the water they’ve lost during the day. The watering spots are dangerous places, and those who can drink the fastest or need the least water have chance on their side.”
As they crossed a
vast high desert and approached the lake, plants and bushes became encrusted with crystallized salt, sometimes an inch thick. In the lake itself, though sparkling clear and sky-blue, nothing lived. There was no marine life of any species.
For six days they searched the western margin of the lake, looking for the outlet of a large river that was marked on an old map Bonniville had given Blade. For years there had been rumors of a river named the Buenaventura, which flowed from the Great Salt Lake directly into the Pacific Ocean. Finding no trace of that mythical river, they turned west and headed onto a barren plain that was almost without game. The sun beat down on them, and they rode in silence except for an occasional whistle or call by a herder trying to hustle up a straggler.
On the third of September Zeke Conyers rode back to the plodding column of men. “Met some friendly Bann’cks camped on a spring up ahead thar, Blade. Way they tell it, we can jest foller the trails they’ve laid down from one waterin’ hole t’other. The old chief said that, by travelin’ southwest, we’ll come to a mountain covered with snow the whole y’ar round and a large river that eventually sinks right into the ground and plumb disappears. But thar ain’t no game ahead. Only a tribe of miserable, no-count In’juns. Beyond ’em is an even bigger snowy mountain, which the chief claims ain’t never been crossed.”
Blade and Zeke looked at each other in silent exultation.
That snow-topped mountain peak was their goal.
“Take Chardonnais and our best horses and go on ahead with a pack mule of supplies. And take enough water to make it back if you can’t find a hole. If you do find water, light a signal fire. We’ll rest here till nightfall and then follow you.” Sitting astride Athena, Theodora stared after the departing men until she could no longer make out their shapes. “They could be ambushed by those Indians,” she said nervously to Blade, who sat on his stallion beside her. “We might never see them again.”
Cherish the Dream Page 38
