From the moment their eyes met, Aiden was lost. After what he’d done she ought to be furious, but he looked so handsome, gazed at her with such open hunger. The uniform fit him superbly. His hair was a bit shaggy where he’d chopped off the braid, but he’d done a credible job of smoothing it down and had even found a hat that fit. Probably stole it, but she couldn’t be concerned with such trivial things at that at this late date. Curls caressed his neck and the collar of the jacket. Once a formidable savage, he’d become a majestic soldier, easily the most handsome man in the crowded room.
And he was headed directly for Captain Wessells. She remembered then having told him about the keys to the food lockers, and knew instinctively what he was after.
He’d be caught! What could he be thinking? In this room filled with army officers and soldiers, he would not stand a chance should Wessells recognize him. The captain had, after all, thrown Stone Heart in prison. Would he remember him? See beneath this veneer of a civilized white officer to that dangerous Cheyenne warrior?
As her partner whirled them closer to Stone Heart, she said, “Oh, dear, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I’m going to have to rest. Would you mind if I...?”
Pouting with disappointment, the lieutenant nevertheless remained a gentleman and deposited her against the wall.
“Would you like a glass of punch?” he asked, holding her hand. “I’m afraid there is no place for you to sit.”
With a forced smile, she declined, and gently removed her fingers from his grip. “Oh, that’s quite all right, sir. I’ll be fine right here. Just let me get my breath. Dancing with all you virile young men has quite worn me out.”
Reluctantly, he moved away in search of another partner.
The music stopped for a moment and everyone milled about, conversing and laughing. She took the opportunity to inch her way nearer Wessells, who regarded her with bleary eyes. She didn’t think he even knew who she was. Passing the table, she picked up a glass and filled it, quickly glanced over the crowd in an effort to find Stone Heart. So many uniforms, she couldn’t locate him right away. Stepped closer to the captain, smiled into his face.
He raised his glass in a wavering salute, took another gulp. The man was so drunk he didn’t recognize her, much less know where he was. Good. At least he wouldn’t know Stone Heart either. But was he drunk enough to pay no attention to someone reaching in his pocket? No matter. She could not allow Stone Heart to place himself in such a hazardous situation. He’d be caught, and even if she never saw him again, she must remember him wild and free, not locked up in some prison. If she were caught, her punishment would be much less severe than his.
Continuing to smile, she touched the captain’s arm and leaned close, as if to say something. No longer able to remain upright, he propped himself against the wall.
“Hlo, my dear. ’Fraid I can’t dance.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right, Captain.” Deliberately, she staggered against him, pinning him tightly into the corner, one hand brushing along his pants and into the pocket.
His bloodshot eyes widened. “What’s this?” With an extreme effort, he straightened his shoulders, put an arm around her and pinned her tightly. He’d obviously misread her move, and that was fine. The stench of alcohol on his breath made her eyes water, but she let him rub against her while her fingers checked out the contents of the pocket.
No keys. Did she dare try the other one?
The hand holding the drink moved toward her bodice, and she thought for a minute he was going to pour it down the front of her dress in his effort to rub his knuckles over her breast. It was difficult not to fight him off, but she didn’t. She had a drink of her own to dispose of if she was to get in his other pocket, so she managed to drink it, sloshing some out, then transferred the empty glass to the other hand and felt along his opposite leg. All the while he pawed ineffectually at her. It appeared he wasn’t too drunk to enjoy being touched and actually shifted to give her a better angle.
“Thish is delightshful,” he mumbled as her hand slipped into his pocket. Her fingers closed over the keys and slid out.
For an injured man who was also intoxicated, he had a pretty good hold on her by the time she had the keys in her fist, and it then became a problem to disentangle herself without causing a scene. He actually attempted to guide her other hand to the front of his pants, but the effort failed when she tipped his drink so it spilled down his shirt front.
“Oh, my,” Aiden gasped and stepped back. “I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll get something to help you clean up.”
“Jush bring me nother drinkee, girlee,” he said, then slid slowly down the wall to the floor, eyes rolling back in his head.
Nearby, several soldiers laughed, and she took the opportunity to get far enough away from the captain to escape any attention his action might attract.
Clutching the keys so tightly they bit into her flesh, she scanned the room. The last time she’d seen him Stone Heart had been headed this way, but she couldn’t spot him in the crowd.
A fiddle tuned up, then another joined in and several couples began to dance. At last she spotted her quarry, standing with his back to her staring at the man passed out in the corner. Quickly, she moved to him, took his arm from behind.
“May I have this dance, lieutenant?”
He stiffened under her touch, and for a moment she thought he was going to bolt. Anything to get away from her. But then he turned, ever so slowly, stared down into her face, silver eyes moist and reflecting the golden lamplight.
“May I have this dance?” she repeated.
The familiar voice sent shivers of dismay down his spine. He couldn’t take her in his arms. All would be lost. Frantically he gauged the crowd and the distance to Wessells and the precious keys. Why was she doing this?
He laid a hand on hers. “A’den. Do not interfere. I must get the keys.”
She slipped her closed fist between them so only he could see and uncurled her fingers to reveal the cluster of keys that had left red marks crisscrossed on her palm.
While he had been inadvertently caught up in a group of jolly fellows who insisted he join them in a toast, she must have taken them. Put herself in great jeopardy to actually remove them from the man’s pants.
A laughing young couple headed for the dance floor bumped them, and he grabbed her in his arms to keep her from falling. All hope of remaining distant from her disappeared, for he couldn’t let her go. Stood there holding her, eyes closed, heart thumping. He took one deep breath, then another. Tried with all his might to turn loose. Only succeeded in crushing her against his chest.
He whispered into her silken hair. “Dear God, A’den.”
She whispered his name, inched both arms around his waist.
As if there were no one in the room but them, he held her and swayed lightly to the music, tried to deny the pleading of his heart.
A soldier pushed past them. “Y’all gonna dance, ought to get out on the floor.”
“Yes, let’s dance,” Stone Heart said, breath fanning her hair.
Carefully, she lay her hand high on his shoulder, fingers trailing along the warm skin of his neck. He held her closer than was allowed by the decorum of the day. Forgotten was her earlier anger as she gazed up into his eyes, unable to speak.
“You are very beautiful,” he whispered.
“And you...you are...how did you . . .? I mean, oh, I’m so glad you’re all right.” She laid her head against his chest and followed his graceful movements round and round the floor, not sure how she managed to hold herself upright.
Dear God, how would she ever be able to leave him behind? Even his slightest touch made her feel absolutely giddy with passion.
Stone Heart cursed himself for a fool over and over, but he could not bring himself to let her go. Here, in this white man’s place, with everyone looking, he held her as he always wished he could, moved her round and round the floor. Learning to dance like the white man had been one of his greatest joys. Che
yenne men danced alone, and if the women did dance, it was not in sight of the men. This was indeed one of the best ideas the white man ever had. It was like making love in public with everyone looking on in approval.
He spread his hand over her back, moved it gently upward, feeling the stiff ribbing of her undergarment, then shifted it below her waist to the hem of the corset. Beneath that rigid contraption, the muscles of her hips undulated sinuously under his touch.
He felt himself grow hard against her, saw her eyes widen as he nestled her closer, waltzed crazily round and round the floor while the lamps swirled golden paths across his vision. Everything but her face blurred. They were alone, flying together, their bodies absorbed in each other, pulsing to the rhythm of the music and their desires, and he knew nothing but her. When the music stopped, they remained in each other’s arms, waited for it to begin again.
Others who might have cut in must have realized the futility of such an action and left them be. They remained together as the party continued on into the night. The crowd thinned until only a couple of dozen people remained, not counting the men who had joined their captain to lie in a drunken stupor on the floor.
After assurances from Aiden, Retha left, accompanied by two young men who promised to see Lieutenant Woods’ wife safely to her door.
Stone Heart didn’t want to leave, because to do so would break the spell, take her from him, for he could see no other way to do what he must do. But eventually the musicians put down their instruments, the punch bowls emptied, the cookie plates contained only crumbs. The party was over.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “We can’t continue to stand here in the middle of the floor like this. Someone will notice.”
Though he nodded his head in assent, he couldn’t move for yet another moment. Afraid that if he let her go, he would never find her again. She would be lost to him forever. And yet so very aware that such a thing was exactly what must happen.
“Come on,” she urged and pulled loose from his embrace, grasped his hand and worked her way toward the door.
She found her cloak on the table put there for that purpose, and he slipped it around her shoulders, draped the blue shawl over her hair just so. In each movement he took his time, delaying the inevitable. At last they moved out into the cold night.
The wind held the odor of horses and the bright taste of winter. Above stars gleamed, appearing so near he might pluck one down for safekeeping. He kept his arm around her as they made their way through the crusted snow. The keys jingled in his pocket, reminding him of what he had yet to do this night. He would first see her safe to her door. The idea of bidding her goodbye weighed heavily on him, but there were no more choices. This had been their final night together. A night he knew he would never forget.
At her door, she slipped the latch and took his hand to pull him inside.
“I cannot,” he said. “I must go.”
“Let me change. I’m going with you. And this time you can’t stop me. If you try I’ll only follow you. I’ve thought of this a lot and it’s more important that I be with you no matter where you are than that I be unhappy in a safe place. I know you love me. You can’t deny that. Come in and wait while I change.”
He followed her inside because he couldn’t think of what else to do. She completely confused him as no woman ever had. There was often no way of telling her no.
“Help me undo this dress,” she said, turning her back so he could fumble at the row of tiny buttons with cold fingers.
“How did you get this on?” he asked after succeeding in opening only a few.
“Retha. She’s been a good friend, the first one I’ve made out here. Someday, maybe I’ll see her again.”
He halted, studied the smooth curve of her neck. “Remain here with her while I do this thing. I will come back for you.”
Under his hands, she stiffened. “No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I promise. You’ll be safe here, and when it is done, when they are on their way home, I’ll come get you. We’ll go wherever you want. I’m tired of trying to talk myself into something I no longer want. What I want is to be with you, and I can see that we cannot be together where my people are going.” Embracing the truth of what he’d said blazed a bright trail into his heart and mind.
“I’m afraid to stay here and let you go,” she finally said, her back to him.
It wasn’t the people so much as him she wished to save. Though compassionate for their suffering, she felt no real connection to it. As if they were beings she did not quite understand. But him. This man. He was a part of her, a part she could not lose.
“Why? Because of that other man? The one who left you? I am not him.”
She turned then, put her arms around his neck. “I know that, but you are a man. Men like their women to be somewhere in the backs of their minds. Waiting for when you decide you need to be succored. And once you’ve enough of that, you want to run off somewhere else for more adventure. Well, I don’t want to be left behind to be visited at your whim. Since I cannot ask you not to do what you must, then I have to go with you.”
“What a lot of nonsense.”
“Is it? Look at the women here at Fort Robinson. At how they wait half their lives for their men to spend a little time with them before they’re off again on some great adventure that they can’t possibly share. My father went to sea and every time he came back he left my mother with child, and then one day he just didn’t come back. Left her with my baby brother growing in her belly. And she still weeps for him.”
The expression on her face revealed a great sorrow and he kissed her, first on one cheek then the other. She was right. He had wanted to bring her here and leave her. That day when they had left the shelter and started for this fort, it was only because he wanted to put her somewhere so he could continue with his plans. He remembered how he had taught her to walk in the deep snow and how she had curled up in his arms to sleep, keeping them both warm. But now she was wrong. He couldn’t leave her again. Ever.
“I want to go with you,” she said.
“It is dangerous.”
Sensing she had at least partially won him over, she twisted in his arms. “Finish the buttons. I’ll put on the buckskins and we can go.”
Even after he surrendered to her wishes, it remained in the back of his mind that he could somehow talk her into remaining here at the fort for a short while. Until he could arrange the escape and see it underway. For her safety, if for no other reason. He did not want to lose her. Found that he couldn’t bear the thought now that he’d held her again.
“It’s important we get them some food and water. Tonight. Now.”
“I know, and I will help you do that.” Then we will be free, she thought.
With a great sigh, he unlaced her corset and stood by while she transformed herself from a beautiful white woman into a buckskin-clad nomad. Very carefully, she spread the lovely blue dress across the bed, folded the shawl and cloak. She did not plan to return, he could tell by her movements, the way she checked out the room. Watching her slip into the stained leather pants and shirt she’d worn on the trail, he vowed that when this was over, this task finished, he would take her home to her people. Learn her ways and make her happy as no woman had ever been before. In doing so, he was sure he too would finally be content.
Still, he dare not make her such a promise, for fear something terrible would happen. She must have thought so too, for she carefully tied the pouch containing her money around her neck. If something went wrong, she would surely need it.
Wrapped against the brutal cold, they crept out into the deserted common, slipped around the end of the building and made their way to the food storage sheds behind the officer’s mess. Before too long, the bugles would sound reveille and hundreds of men would swarm over the grounds.
All but one patrol had returned from the field, bringing in what they deemed to be the last of the captives. Dull Knife was not among them, according to talk at th
e dance earlier. Stone Heart feared the great leader was dead, but could not bring himself to believe it. It would surely take more than an army of white men to bring down such a spiritual being.
Hunkered beside her between the wooden crates and the storage shed, he tried the keys in the heavy padlock until he found the one that fit. Sliding the long iron bar loose, he inched the door open. It groaned on its hinges and he paused to listen.
“Check for a patrol,” he told her and stepped inside. It was even blacker within the shed, and he hesitated a moment or two to allow his eyes to get used to it.
A large vat sat on the floor, and he lifted the lid and sniffed. Perhaps stew meat or beans cooked the evening before and sat out here to keep. Taking hold of a handle, he pulled at the vat. Partially frozen, it was heavy, but not impossible to move.
They could drag it through the snow. Take it first, come back for more. It looked to be enough to feed many but they would have to build a larger fire to thaw the contents. He worried they wouldn’t have the wood to do such a thing. Lifting the top of a wooden barrel, he smelled the aroma of bread. Inside, he felt several loaves.
Prying them apart, for they too were frozen, he put as many as would fit into the vat and pressed the lid down. The rest he bundled up in the blanket he took from around his shoulders. A’den could carry that and he would drag the vat across the frozen snow. But they must hurry. Already, the sky to the east held a silver cast. The cooks would soon arrive and they had to be away. He hoped they wouldn’t miss the vat while preparing breakfast.
He also hoped there were no guards on the prison overnight, but knew he couldn’t count on that, considering the Cheyenne had broken out once before.
“I didn’t hear anyone,” A’den said when he backed out of the shed dragging the heavy vat.
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