Cherish the Dream

by Kathleen Harrington

  Julius flashed his generous smile and nodded his grizzled white head. “You bet, Captain. Old Twiggs cook horse just right. Eat fine tonight.”

  “I’ll help you with the mess, Julius,” Theodora offered. The thought of eating horse meat appalled her, but then, she wasn’t nearly as hungry as the men.

  Not ten minutes later she rushed into her tent. “Blade, you’ve got to stop them,” she pleaded.

  He looked up from his bedroll, where he sat cleaning his carbine. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Athena,” she cried, twisting her hands in agitation. “They’re going to butcher her!”

  He hurried with her from the tent. Together they raced across the bivouac. They barely arrived in time. Overbury was just about to lead Athena to the small spot among the pines where they’d already slaughtered the first horse. “Hold on, Corporal Overbury,” Blade called as they approached. “Pick another horse.”

  “The mare’s hardly able to walk, Captain,” Overbury said with surprise. “She probably won’t last more than another day or two anyway.”

  “Nevertheless, choose another horse.”

  As Blade walked away, Theodora clutched his sleeve with her mittened hand. “Thank you.”

  He turned, his angular profile softened by his deep concern for her. “Theodora, if Athena collapses, we’ll have to butcher her. We can’t leave the meat to be eaten by wolves when it can be used to keep us all alive. I’m sorry, vehona. If it weren’t a matter of life and death, I’d never even consider it.”

  “I understand.” Unable to control the shakiness in her voice, she clasped her hands to her breast in an attempt to ease her pain. “But make them wait until she falters. She could rally, you know. I never ride her anymore and no one puts a pack on her.” Realizing that she’d just described Athena’s present worthlessness, she stopped short.

  “I know, princess.” With a tortured sigh, he reached over and tucked an errant lock of hair under her furry hat.

  She caught his hand and held it to her lips in gratitude. Without a word, she pressed a kiss against his fingers, then left to find Julius.

  Alongside Overbury and Belknap, she helped Twiggs roast the horse flesh on skewers made of branches placed over the open fires.

  “Out of salt, Miss Theo,” Julius told her. “Sprinkle gun powder, instead.”

  Soon the aroma of cooking meat permeated the campsite, and the men drifted closer. When the mess was served, they tore into it.

  As she sat on a buffalo hide placed on a snowbank, Theodora stared with revulsion at the meal in her dish.

  Blade sat down beside her. “I want you to eat all of your portion, Theodora,” he ordered. “You’ll need the nourishment. Just think of it as a beef steak.”

  “I’d never have believed we could sink so low,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  “My people eat horses and puppies, too, vehoka, when they’re starving. Zeke told me about the time he was so hungry he boiled his moccasins and ate them.”

  Conyers, who’d joined them on the blanket, nodded his agreement. “Yep, ’n that ain’t the wust I’ve eaten, neither. Onc’t I was trappin’ near the Great Salt Lake with the cap’n’s pappy, we were so hungry, we baked up a bunch of them black crickets the Diggers eat. They were real crunchy.”

  “Please, Zeke!” Theodora begged, and burst out laughing. “It’s bad enough trying to eat this stuff.” But she took a breath and bit into the charred black meat. It was tough and lean, and she had to wash it down with a swallow of the melted ice water from the steam.

  Blade watched her with circumspection. She knew he’d wait until he was certain she’d finished the entire portion in her dish. Thank goodness Athena was still alive, she told herself. God willing, her beautiful mare would make it through the next day, too.

  The snow increased to five feet, then six. It was dry and powdery, and the lead men sank up to their armpits. It soon became impossible for them to walk erect, and the first two or three men had to crawl on their hands and knees, with their followers carefully placing their feet in the same holes. After the thirty-plus men had packed the snow down, it was firm enough to support the animals, who soon learned to place their hooves in the indentations made by the men. If they missed a spot, the horses fell into the loose snow up to their bellies and the men had to pull them out.

  Every man took his stint leading the way. Even Blade. When it was his turn, he would make four times the distance of any other man, and Theodora marveled that through it all he remained cheerful, confident that they’d make it. He never seemed tired or discouraged, and his example raised the spirits of all the men. They openly strove to earn his respect, pushing themselves beyond human endurance.

  Slowly, laboriously, they inched their way into the mountains. They made only two or three miles a day, and sometimes could see the black rings of their old campfires from their new bivouac. The travel-weary column moved gradually upward finding less and less timber. There were small lakes, with pine, cedar, and redwood, but it was scrubby and meager. Each morning the hunting party, led by Conyers, rode out to search for game; each evening they returned empty-handed. They slaughtered three more horses.

  They reached what some thought was the summit, only to travel five more days surrounded by snow and rugged peaks. Everyone was near exhaustion, and the animals were now more of a burden than a help. It appeared that Fletcher’s warning would soon come true.

  At night they no longer slept in tents. Instead, the men, in sets of threes and fours, dug holes eight feet square down through the snow to the frozen ground. There they placed soft pine twigs, over which they spread their blankets. Two forked sticks were set upright in the snow to the windward of center, and across them the men laid horizontal poles. Over these they piled thick coverings of pine branches to block out the wind. Fires were lit in the bottom of the pits, providing a livable environment, even on the coldest nights.

  They suffered more from the frigid temperatures during the daytime. While marching, two men froze their feet. Like Theodora, the invalids now rode on the tired horses. Even in her warm coat, mittens, and moccasins she began to feel the numbing cold. She knew she’d lost weight, despite Blade’s insistence that she eat full portions. Everyone else had been on half rations since they first began slaughtering the horses, and she purposely held back at suppertime.

  One night after mess she crawled into their shelter early, in search of some protection from the icy wind. As she huddled beside the fire, she shivered uncontrollably, unable to get warm.

  Blade came in, replacing the thick roof of pine boughs over head. A fine sheen of frost covered his beard. Taking off his hat, gloves, and heavy coat, he dropped them on his bedroll. He tossed more wood on the fire, then came over and pulled the buffalo skin tighter around her shoulders.

  He drew his black, straight brows together in an anxious frown. “You’re still cold, aren’t you?” His words were harsh with worry .

  “I … I can’t seem to warm up tonight,” she confessed. “I can’t stop shaking.”

  As he hunkered down in front of her, he put out an open palm. “Let me see your feet, love.” He lifted one foot and braced it on his heavy thigh. After slipping off her moccasin and wool sock, he felt her toes. “Your feet are like ice, Theodora. You could be suffering from frostbite.” His mouth drew into a tight, thin line. “Give me your other foot,” he ordered. He stripped off the second moccasin and sock and placed both of her bare feet inside his buckskin shirt. He eased her toes up under his armpits.

  The warmth of his body at last penetrated her frozen feet. Leaning back on her elbows, she sighed. “Mmmm. You’re as cozy as a steaming teakettle.” With a laugh she wiggled her toes. “But the hair under your arms tickles.”

  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and she felt his ribs vibrate against her ankles. “Romantic, isn’t it?” he quipped with a wolfish grin. “At least you’re not suffering from frost bite, or you wouldn’t feel anything. How about your fingers?�
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  “They’re still cold,” she admitted. “I should feel better in a minute.” But a shiver spread through her and she shook convulsively despite his ministrations.

  With a fierce scowl Blade withdrew her bare feet from his shirt and slipped her moccasins back on. He rose and sat crossed-legged beside her on the mattress of sweet-smelling pine boughs. “I’ll warm you up, vehona,” he promised her as he thrust his strong hands beneath the buffalo robe.

  Taken by surprise, she tried to pull back, but he impatiently jerked her toward him and the robe fell away. In an instant she was cradled between his muscular thighs. “This is no time to cite your worries about our incompatibility, Theodora,” he said brusquely. “I’m going to light a fire inside you that’ll burn all night. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and watch you lose your fingers and toes.”

  He pulled the tails of her blouse free of her leather skirt and quickly unfastened the buttons. Pushing the blouse aside, he cupped her breasts. The feel of his strong fingers, as they brushed across her nipples beneath the cotton camisole, brought a whimper of pleasure to her throat. It had been so long since he’d touched her. Boldly, he pushed the sleeves of her blouse down her arms, imprisoning them. Then the straps of her camisole and chemise were ruthlessly shoved aside, and her bare breasts were exposed to his lips.

  He suckled and licked her, rumbling low in his throat, and when she tried to move away, he fell back on the blankets, taking her with him. He threw one heavy leg across her, to entrap her body under his, and unfastened the waistband of her buckskin skirt. Freeing her from the weight of his heavy frame, he pulled the riding skirt down her legs and slid it over her moccasined feet. Without pause, he bent over her and kissed the very core of her femininity beneath the thin material of her pantaloons. As he’d promised; fire coursed through her veins, and she writhed beneath him.

  “Blade, wait.” She gasped, trying to gather her thoughts and repel the siege he’d launched so swiftly against her.

  Wait, hell, Blade thought, and softly nuzzled the curly mound through the cotton. He fondled her, his fingers searching. He smiled to himself when her soft, low moan told him he’d found her. Still stroking her, he moved up to cover her lips with his own once more. He thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth, building a rhythm that would remind her of all the times before when he’d loved her. He wanted her to remember how wonderful it had been. Leaving her mouth, he trailed kisses down her neck. He touched the hollow of her throat with a flick of his tongue, then moved on to circle the rosy crest of her breast.

  Her hips rose to meet his caresses, and he rubbed his hand between her thighs, stoking the blaze he’d lit inside her like a furnace. When she began to respond in rhythm to his strokes, he pulled back, kicked off his moccasins, and stripped away his buckskins and the breechclout beneath.

  “We need to talk, Blade,” she said the moment she felt his hands leave her.

  “We’ll talk later, nazheem. You’re starting to feel warmer already.” He untied the tapes of her pantaloons and pushed them down her slim, graceful legs. When they bunched against her moccasins, he pulled everything off together. “Ah, princess,” he murmured, as he spread her ivory thighs apart with his knee and slid his bronzed hands over her creamy skin. “You’re as beautiful as I remember.”

  He entered her with one swift stroke. Despite her earlier protests, she was warm and moist and ready for him. He braced his forearms on either side of her head and covered her lips with his own. He coaxed her to enter his mouth and groaned with delight as he felt her tongue explore him. He moved in her slowly, insistently, bringing her back up with him. He could hear her inhaling drafts of air through her dainty nose, and he lifted his mouth. Soon she was panting in short, heavy gasps in his ear. He pushed back on his elbows and lifted up inside her, increasing her pleasure.

  He crooned to her in a mixture of French and Cheyenne, encouraging her to yield to him completely, to think of nothing but the pleasure he was bringing her. At her low, sweet purr of ecstasy, he increased his rhythm, building it until he exploded inside her, while the blood rushed through his veins and his heart pounded against his chest. He braced himself on his forearms and removed his heavy weight while remaining within her. “Now what is it you wanted to talk about, nameo, my lover?”

  She looked up at him through passion-drugged eyes. Confused, she seemed to search languorously for what she had wanted to say. Then her full lips, bruised from his passionate kisses, formed a petulant moue in feigned disapproval. “I was going to ask permission to remove my blouse, husband. But you never gave me the chance.”

  He burst out laughing. Her arms were still imprisoned where he’d pushed her sleeves and straps over her shoulders. Above the rumpled camisole and chemise, her pale breasts rose impudently, their pink crests bright and swollen from his suckling. “Are you joking, princess? I should leave you tied up like this all night. It’s the only way I’ve been able to teach you the correct way to address me.” For the term she’d used had sent a wave of joy through him.

  Despite his threat, Blade gently eased away and sat up. Stripping off his own shirt, he threw it aside and reached for her. With a contented sigh, she allowed him to remove the rest of her garments. Together they slipped under the thick blankets, and he pulled the discarded buffalo robe on top of them. Then he stretched out, yawned contentedly, and brought his exquisite wife up tight against him.

  She snuggled close, her head on his shoulder, and wove her fingers into the mat of hair on his chest. “You’re better than a hot brick,” she told him with impertinence. “I feel toasty all over.”

  “Just stay right here beside me, little white woman.” He ran his hardened fingers over her smooth, tantalizing derriere.

  “I’ll keep you warm all night.”

  Two weeks after entering the Sierra Nevada range, the expedition continued to travel on top of the mountain, obstructed by snow-filled crevasses, icy rock walls, and sharp drop-offs down which they lowered the packs, horses, and each other. The possibility of avalanches and rock slides haunted them. Despite the piercing winds of the high altitudes, the men struggled to keep moving, yet occasionally they would pause to view the spectacular vista that spread out in front of them. Other than themselves and their animals, they hadn’t seen a single living creature for days. They survived on a diet of horse flesh. There was absolutely nothing else to eat. Daily, they faced numbing cold, exhaustion, and the possibility of starvation. Each day they pitted their cunning, strength, and courage against the greatest challenge that any of them had ever known.

  There wasn’t the slightest sign of a trail or path to guide them. A vast expanse of snow stretched ahead as far as the eye could see. The mountains rose up, peak after snow-capped peak, until it seemed they were wandering in the clouds.

  Theodora took on the responsibility of helping the injured and those suffering from frostbite. She rode at the back of the column, where the men too weary to forge into the deepening drifts came to gather their strength during a brief reprieve. One cold, gray afternoon the word came down the line of weary soldiers. The lady’s chestnut mare had collapsed.

  Leaving Julius to finish tending a man whose hands were bleeding from lacerations caused by falling against sharp rocks, Theodora hurried forward.

  Athena lay in a snowbank, her eyes bulging with fear and exhaustion. A small group of dragoons circled the fallen horse, watching in silence as O’Fallon tugged on her reins.

  “Come on, lass,” he urged the mare, “up on your feet, now.”

  Several men shook their heads, obviously certain the chestnut would never gather the strength to rise.

  Kneeling beside her in the trampled snow, Theodora lifted the beloved mare’s head and cradled it in her lap. “It’s no use, Sergeant,” she said as she took the reins from his hand. “She’ll only collapse again.”

  Theodora stroked the velvety nose and whispered softly to the valiant animal. “You can go to sleep now, Athena. The journey is over for
you. No Thoroughbred could have tried harder. Now it’s time to rest.”

  She laid her cold cheek against the mare’s head and stroked the long, reddish brown neck one last time. Then she eased out from under the suffering animal and stood beside her. She turned to face the men, unashamed of the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “Sergeant,” she said, her voice calm and certain, “may I borrow your rifle?”

  O’Fallon’s blue eyes glistened. He took a step toward her. “Faith, mavourneen, I can take care of it for you.”

  “No, she’s my horse, Sergeant. I’ll do what has to be done.” Without another word he handed her the fine percussion carbine he and Blade had taught her how to use their first day on the trail. Theodora slipped her mittens off and brushed the tears from her eyes. She lifted the weapon, aimed, and pulled the trigger, releasing Athena from her horrible suffering.

  At the sound of the blast, Blade came hurrying back from his stint at clearing a path in the drifts. He slowed to a walk when he saw his wife standing over her dead mare, the smoking carbine still clutched in her rigid, icy fingers. Only a few feet away, he stopped and waited, wondering if she would break down and fling herself into his arms. But she straightened her shoulders and handed the rifle back to O’Fallon.

  “See that she’s butchered this afternoon, Sergeant,” she said without a tremor in her voice as she slowly pulled on her mittens. “I’ll help Julius prepare the meat for the evening mess.”

  She looked up and met Blade’s gaze with tormented eyes. But there were no more tears. “Go back to the front where you’re needed, nahyam,” she urged. “I’ll talk to you later. Private Belknap needs bandages on his cut hands.” She turned and walked toward the rear, her spine ramrod straight.

  Blade looked at the watching men, their eyes filled with admiration. He’d never been so proud of his wife. He nodded to them in silent acknowledgment of their regard for her. “Carry on with your work, men. Let’s keep this company moving.”