Stunned, Derek’s mouth moved. “No.” This cannot be. He plucked at his moustache. “You must be mistaken, soldier.”
Roberts shook his head. “No, sir. It’s all here in this letter. Everyone’s being reassigned, effective immediately. The colonel, he already knows, but this letter makes it official. Guess I’d better get this to him then head out. Got my orders to continue upriver to Fort Randall and report to the general there. That’s where most of y’all will go.”
Derek thought fast. They couldn’t close Fort Pierre. He couldn’t leave. Too much was at stake. Then the real truth hit. The colonel knew he wouldn’t ever have command of the fort and when they found Emma, he’d still be expected to marry her, only it’d all be for nothing.
Roberts left but Derek was lost in a sea of fury.
Gone. Destroyed. All his dreams of the future lay in ruins. Without the might of the U.S. Army behind him, he had no chance of finding that river where nuggets of gold flowed in abundance. He pulled his last remaining nugget from his pocket. Alone, it would fetch him a fair amount of money, but not enough.
He wasn’t going to live in some falling-apart shack or in some run-down farmhouse when he left the service. He needed money and lots of it. Lifting his head, he thought of Wild Sage. He was willing to bet she knew where to find the gold. He straightened. He’d force her to take him to the source. With her, he’d be able to move through Indian territory, especially if he were dressed as a trapper.
Gathering his gear, he froze. The army. His enlisted status wasn’t up for a year. If he refused to marry Emma, there was a good chance his next post would be in some other godforsaken place, like some fort along the Oregon Trail to protect immigrants. He was stuck having to marry Emma.
Unless she wasn’t found alive. Filled with purpose, he left his room. Soldiers gathered outside stepped back quickly, giving him a wide berth as he slammed the door behind him then strode out into the rain.
A short while later, he stormed into Wild Sage’s tipi. She and another woman jumped when he entered. Wild Sage paled. “Do you know of a Sioux chieftain named Striking Thunder?”
She and the other woman exchanged glances. “He is great chief. All know him.” Wild Sage stood.
Derek stroked his chin, considering his options. “Can you find his tribe?”
Wild Sage hesitated and clutched her hands tightly in front of her. “Each tribe moves. Very hard to find.”
Derek studied her. Instead of fear in her eyes, he saw evasiveness. Two long strides brought him to her. “You lie, bitch.” He yanked on her hair.
She cried out. “Why you want know?”
“I need to find the colonel’s daughter before he does. You will take me there, help me get her. If you don’t, I will kill you and leave you to the buzzards.”
Her eyes went wide with fright.
“And after I take care of Emma, you will take me into those hills and show me where to find more of this.” He held out the gold nugget.
“Hills sacred—” She broke off when he yanked her hair. “Wild Sage take you.”
“Wise, bitch.” Glancing around, Derek’s gaze fell on the other woman. He’d forgotten she was still there. When she stood and headed for the door, he stopped her.
The fear in her eyes confirmed she’d understood enough of what he’d said. “Now, where do you think you are going, old woman?”
She struggled. Her long nails raked down his face. Taking his revolver from his belt, he slammed the butt into her head. She slumped to the floor. Wild Sage cried out and ran to her.
He grabbed the squaw and threw her to the ground. “Shut up.” With the roiling emotions and rage running through him, he needed release. Removing his belt, he snapped the leather loud. Wild Sage cowered and whimpered, bracing herself for the first blow.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grady, informed that an Indian woman had been found near death from a blow to her head, strode into the infirmary, his steps hurried, his boots loud on the wooden floorboards. “Where is she? What happened?” His bellow woke any patients who were sleeping. Doc Gil left a bed and hurried down the aisle toward him.
“Beggin’ pardon, Colonel, keep it down.”
Glancing around, seeing several familiar faces, he nodded. “Sorry. What’s going on? Who is this woman?”
“Some old Sioux woman. Got knocked on the head and lost a lot of blood before she was brought here. Zeb’ s with her now along with some other squaw who insisted on staying with her.” Gil stopped. “She ain’t gonna make it.”
Reaching the narrow cot, Grady stared down at the old woman. Around her head, white strips of cloth had been wound to staunch the flow of blood. Kneeling, he took the woman’s frail hand into his. “Who did this to her?”
Zeb spoke to the woman standing to one side of the bed in halting Dakota. She spoke, her voice faint and trembling.
Zeb lifted his puzzled gaze. “She says ‘the captain.’”
Searching the woman’s features, Grady saw stark fear in her eyes. He glanced down at the dying woman then back at Zeb. “Sanders? Is she sure?”
Zeb nodded. “She and some others saw him go into Wild Sage’s tipi, heard him beating her. When he left, taking Wild Sage with him, the women went inside and found this woman in a pool of blood.”
Grady glanced back down at the old woman. Her breathing had grown shallow. “Why would he do this?” He looked to Zeb.
The scout scratched his head. “I don’t know, Kern’l.”
A voice across the room called out, “Beggin’ yer pardon, Colonel, but that squaw there speaks the truth when she says the captain is mean.”
Grady went to the cot where a young soldier lay sweating with fever. “Ben, isn’t it?” The boy nodded. “Explain yourself?”
“Yes, sir. It’s just that the captain, well, he has a mean streak, especially toward the women. Hates the Sioux.” The boy looked uncomfortable then continued. “Well, it’s just that he’s pretty rough with them, you know, when he goes to their tipis… He leaves them pretty beat-up.”
Grady knew the men used the women as prostitutes, but this? How could he not have known about this?
Thinking back over the meeting he’d just had with Derek, Grady replayed it and had a hard time believing what he was being told. “Colonel?” Ben lowered his voice so no one else could hear.
“Heard Gus braggin’ one night how he and the captain—along with those other men that got themselves kilt—was goin’ around harassing them Indians and raping their women. I didn’t believe Gus, just thought he was just tryin’ to impress us.”
Feeling sick at heart that his judgment had been so far off, Grady patted the boy’s shoulder. “Thank you, soldier. You rest and get well.”
Turning on his heel, he left the sickroom. Forgetting to keep his voice low, he shouted, “Zeb, take me to where that old woman was found.”
A short while later, he arrived at the tipi belonging to Wild Sage. He went inside to search, but aside from the spot where the woman had been found, there was nothing there to give him any clue as to what was going on.
Outside, he strode over to where several women huddled. Motioning to Zeb, he asked questions. Learning of the captain’s darker nature chilled Grady’s blood. He now had a pretty good idea of the cause of anger and unrest in the area. Another soldier rode up and confirmed that Derek’s horse was missing from the corral. He also mentioned the captain’s fury in the officers’ quarters.
Confused and concerned, Grady tried to make sense of all this. What had happened from the time Sanders had left his office to his escapade with Wild Sage to put him into a rage? He’d seemed eager to please and in good spirits, especially when they’d talked about promotions and Emma. A chill went through him. Did Derek not want to marry Emma? Had he said he would just to please him, to get into his good graces?
Grady recognized Sanders’s driving desire for promotion. It had been one of the traits he’d admired in the man. If the man had changed his mind about
Emma, felt he couldn’t marry her because of her captive status, would he have come right out and said so?
The answer was no. Grady knew Derek would not have risked angering a colonel by refusing to marry his daughter. He’d wanted the promotion, the command of the fort.
That thought stopped him. Now things were coming together. With the arrival of Roberts and the official transfer papers, the captain must have learned that Fort Pierre was to be abandoned—and with it went the promotion he wanted.
Motioning for his men to follow, Grady headed for the corralled horses. To what lengths would Sanders go to keep from marrying Emma? With the death already of one woman, Grady feared he knew.
Sitting outside, Emma glanced across the fire at Dove. Instead of sewing or preparing sinew, beading, or any other normal task on which most women spent their time, the girl stripped feathers for the prepared arrow shafts in her lap.
The soon-to-be arrows had already been nocked and scored down the side to keep the arrow straight and so that it would have good spirit. Now, she stripped feathers for the next step. The feathers were of all shapes and sizes and had been sorted into lefts and rights.
Between them, a huge hunk of meat cut from a prime antelope roasted over the fire. Returning warriors strode past, eyes straight ahead, heads up and shoulders back. None looked at Dove or the meat, which amused Dove to no end. She wore a pleased grin. Her skills with a bow continued to be a source of friction between her and those warriors who had once sought to court her. How could a warrior impress her with gifts of fur when she could easily procure her own?
Curious, Emma set down the shirt she was painstakingly beading. “Why do you do it?”
The other girl glanced up and grinned, her pale blue eyes sparkling with deviltry. “When I marry, it will be to a great warrior, one who is brave, cunning and handsome.”
She bit gently on the end of a quill to hold it steady and proceeded to strip the feathers from it in one smooth pull. The two vanes were also put into different piles. Vanes from the same feather were never used on the same arrow.
Emma glanced around, her gaze falling on one unmarried warrior after another. They all seemed to meet Dove’s requirements. “Aren’t there already so many to choose from?”
Dove snorted and shook her head. “The warriors of my tribe are all the same.” Pride laced her voice. “All are brave, smart and fearless. But none are special. The one I will give my heart to must be different. He must prove himself to be above all others.”
“So you challenge them so they will prove themselves?”
Dove giggled. “No. I challenge them because it’s fun to watch them squirm.”
Staring at the other girl in disbelief, she burst into laughter. “Dove, you are incorrigible.”
Star joined them. “You will meet your match one day, sister of mine.”
Dove scoffed, then narrowed her eyes. “Have you had a vision? Have you seen this warrior who will be greater than all?”
Star chuckled. “I have seen the one who will one day win your heart. You will learn that love is the greatest gift a man brings a woman. I will say nothing more on the matter.”
Emma chuckled and watched, vastly amused as Dove tried to ferret the information from Star. But Star remained tight-lipped. Finally, Dove jumped to her feet and stormed off.
“That was quite mean of you to tease her so, Star.” Emma was glad to see a spark of mischief in her friend’s eyes.
“Yes, but no worse than what Dove does when she torments so many braves.”
Emma tilted her head. “Have you really seen her future?”
A secret grin flashed before Star bent her head to her task.
“You are a wretched tease today.” Emma kept the conversation light. Talk turned to the many tasks that fell to the women during the spring. It was a busy time, one Emma embraced as it kept her troubled thoughts at bay.
She loved Striking Thunder and wanted to stay with him, but they did not discuss the future; neither was willing to ruin what they had. But as time went on and nothing more was said about her father, Emma began to hope that love had changed his mind. Now, with a babe on the way, Emma had to choose: stay or return to St. Louis. She frowned and paused in her work. What if Striking Thunder didn’t want to marry her? Could she be content to share only his tipi and mat? She didn’t know.
Stretching her cramped fingers, she glanced at the sun’s position then put her beads back into her small, palm-sized pouch. Pride filled her as she ran her fingers over the designs worked onto the pouch she’d made. Getting to her knees, she glanced at Star. “Time to start the evening meal—”
Emma sat back on her heels. Star’s eyes had gone distant, her face pale and white.
“Star?”
“Murderer.” The whispered word held fear. Her eyes had turned nearly black and were wild. “Do not trust him.” She shuddered.
A cold sliver ran through Emma. Concerned, she reached over to hold Star’s hand. “Who, Star? Who is it? Can you describe him?” Was it her father Star was warning of? No. Please, God, don’t let her father be the monster these people thought him to be.
Weeping softly, Star trembled. Worried that her friend was having a breakdown, she motioned White Wind over. Star, still held in the grip of the vision, rocked back and forth.
“Soldiers. One not dressed as the others. Hatred lives within.” She stopped, gasped, then continued. “There is good among them. Not all bad. Confusing. Two beings. The eagle and the buzzard. But I can’t see. I don’t know.” Her voice turned gritty. “I can’t help.”
White Wind murmured to her daughter. Emma could only wait and watch helplessly. Finally, Star’s eyes cleared but her features remained pinched. Together, she and Striking Thunder’s mother led Star to her tipi. Emma heated water for tea, all the while thinking of Star’s words but not knowing what she’d meant. After a while, Star fell into a troubled sleep.
“I will take the children with me.”
Emma nodded. “Renny can stay with me. I don’t wish to burden you with so many children in your tipi.”
White Wind smiled. “It will be good to have them with us. Our tipi is empty now. Besides, Morning Moon and your sister are inseparable.”
The reminder worried Emma. What would happen to Renny if they had to leave? She was so happy here.
Nodding, but unable to put aside the fear that the idyllic bliss she’d been enjoying would soon come to an end, Emma returned to her own tipi to start the evening meal.
A shadow fell over her but when she saw whom her visitor was, Emma went about her business, ignoring the hateful girl. Tanagila, not one to be put off so easily, toed some dirt into Emma’s fire.
“Do you not have your own chores to see to?” Emma glared at her.
“I came to talk to you.”
“We do not have anything to talk about.”
Tanagila smirked at her. “Foolish white woman. You think to make your life among the Sioux.”
Emma shoved past Tanagila, forcing her to step away from the smoking fire. Bending down, she laid more kindling over the flames. “It is none of your concern, Tanagila.”
She deliberately used the girl’s name, knowing it showed disrespect. She found it odd yet rafter charming that Indians didn’t overuse given names, believing they were sacred and should only be used to show respect. To use a person’s name all the time meant one didn’t respect that name or the person.
Eyeing her with narrowed eyes, Tanagila smirked at Emma. “Wrong, white woman. Soon, you will be gone.” She preened and strutted around the fire, sending more sprays of dirt onto the flames. “Then our chief will marry as is his duty.”
Exasperated and wanting nothing more than to be rid of the irritating girl, Emma stopped her food preparations. “I have work to do, and who says I’m going anywhere?”
Exploring the contents of a pouch holding dried berries and fruits, the girl helped herself to a handful. “My brother, Waho, says you are to be returned to the fort soo
n, after our warriors kill your father.”
Emma’s heart thudded. Though she’d thought about the future earlier, hearing someone else speak of it jarred her back to reality. “That was months ago.”
“Wrong again, white woman. They go out into the prairie to meet and plan so no one will tell you. Soon, they will send someone to the fort with proof that you live and lure your father here.”
“No. Striking Thunder won’t do it.” Yet, Emma realized he’d been gone a lot lately. Many times, he’d come back without any game. What was he doing out there all day if not hunting?
Tanagila laughed. “Why not? Just because you share his mat? He must do his duty. He must avenge the death of my sister.”
Duty. The word left Emma trembling, for she knew only too well Striking Thunder’s obsession with his duty to his people. But that was before they had become lovers. Before he brought Renny here. Surely he wouldn’t make an orphan of her little sister?
Emma spun around. This was a vicious lie. It had to be. “No. I won’t believe you. You only seek to cause trouble because it is me he wants, and not you.”
Her words hit their mark. Tanagila flushed. “Ask him,” the girl hissed through clenched teeth. “You will see that I am right. You are nothing. When he marries, it will be to another Sioux maiden. He has only used you to warm his mat at night as no pure maiden would do so.” With those spiteful words, Tanagila sashayed away, leaving Emma in a state of turmoil.
Emma moved through the rest of the late afternoon troubled. As much as she hated to believe anything that hateful girl said, the seed of doubt had been planted. Could Striking Thunder, after all they’d shared, still carry out his plan to murder her father in cold blood? Her heart screamed no, but her mind knew he put his people and their needs above all others, including his own. But if he loved her—
The truth slammed into her. Putting her hand to her mouth to still the trembling of her lips, Emma stumbled inside the tipi and fell to her knees on the pallet she shared with Striking Thunder. While she’d told him she loved him, he’d never repeated the words to her. Endearments, especially during their lovemaking, yes. But actual words and declarations of love, no. Not once.
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