Walks Alone

by Sandi Rog

  “Morning Sun.” A cold chill sputtered down her spine.

  She peered over her shoulder and saw White Eagle standing at the top of the stairs, eyes narrowed. She knew by his frown that she should leave. Quickly, she pushed through the doors.

  “Anna!” he shouted after her as the doors closed.

  Hurrying down the walkway, the doors burst open behind her. Startled, she glanced over her shoulder and saw White Eagle taking long, determined strides in her direction. He caught up to her and took her by the arm.

  “Why are you running from me?” he asked, concern reflected in his eyes as they swept over her.

  The weariness in his eyes and face caused all the pent-up guilt from the last two days to rush to the surface. She was the cause, the cause for all his grief.

  “Oh, White Eagle, forgive me for making you come to Denver City. This is an awful place! There’s so much hate!” Stepping back, she buried her face in her trembling hands. “I’m sorry I made you come here.”

  “You didn’t make me do anything.” He inched toward her.

  “I should have done something,” she said. “Those men—what they’re thinking is wrong. I should do something.”

  “You can’t change them.” He reached out and ran his fingers down her cheek. “I just realized,” he said with a slight chuckle, “the only person you can change is yourself.” He motioned toward her with his chin. “Ma’heo’o will raise His bow and quiver to the men who have so much hate. It’s not for me to take that from Him.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t change the tracks my moccasins have left behind. I have to look to the open plains where new tracks can be made.”

  Anna listened as he spoke his poetry, and a new light sparkled in his eyes. Something about him was different, lighter, as though he no longer carried a heavy load.

  “I’ve finally made peace with Ma’heo’o. And I’ve come to take you with me. We’re going home.”

  “Home?” She stepped back. She was home. Wasn’t she? Well, either way, she wasn’t ready to leave.

  “How could you still want me after what I’ve done? I carried on a conversation with the murderers of your family!” She feigned dignity and straightened, but immediately betrayed her feelings when she choked on tears.

  “Aaahhh, Morning Sun. Don’t cry. Why would you want me after I kidnapped you? Forced you into marriage? After I robbed you?” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. His fingers threaded around her neck. He dragged her to him. “After I hurt you?”

  She hadn’t expected that kind of an answer.

  Gazing into her face, he breathed deeply. “There’s more to life than revenge. I could have killed him. But I didn’t, because of you. Because of Ma’heo’o. He brought you to me.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m not angry, not anymore. Men like Chivington should be pitied. He has a lot to answer for.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said, as his lips came dangerously close to hers.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered.

  “But I’m the one who needs to be forgiven.”

  “You have a good heart, Morning Sun. Now be quiet and kiss me.” He pressed his lips against hers, gently, tenderly.

  “Take that demonstrative behavior indoors,” a woman said with disgust as she swished past.

  Anna pulled away, breathless and suddenly conscious of the people walking by. “We’re making a scene.”

  “We’ve already made a scene.” He kept his hold on her.

  She stared into his hot, possessive gaze. Despite longing to be in his embrace, she hadn’t found what she was looking for. What happened to her dream? Whatever happened to “home”?

  “I need time,” she whispered.

  His eyes flashed, and he tightened his grip.

  “Free will,” he whispered the words as he stared at her. An understanding reflected in his gaze. “Ma’heo’o, how do you stand it?”

  She knew he wasn’t talking to her, but she remained captive in his grip, puzzled by his meaning.

  Slowly, he released her. “Go. Fly away to your dream, Morning Sun. I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  That evening, Anna was alone folding an unfinished garment when a knock sounded through the shop. She peered out the curtain to see a doctor standing outside. She unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Good evening, ma’am. I’m sorry to bother you.” He stepped in and removed his hat.

  “Oh, you’re no bother at all.”

  “I’m looking for a Mrs. Anna Charvet.”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, the doctor over there in Cherry Creek took sick, so I’ve been mighty busy taking care of his patients. That’s why I didn’t have a chance to come by sooner. But now he’s fine, and I can get back to my own patients.” He pointed with his thumb at the door. “I looked for you at the hotel, and they said I could find you here.”

  “Please, sit down,” she said.

  The doctor took a seat. “There are a few questions that my apprentice didn’t think to ask.”

  She raised her brow, wondering what they could be.

  He asked his questions, and though they were quite personal, she answered him honestly, especially if it meant they’d provide answers to her illness. She also slowly realized where he might be leading. “What is it, doctor?” Anna’s cheeks flamed, thinking she might already know the answer, but had to be sure.

  “You’re with child.”

  ~*~

  “A whole week,” Anna muttered as she hung her dress in the wardrobe. How much longer could she stand to keep this secret from White Eagle? This was the longest week she’d ever experienced in her life.

  Thankfully, the sick sensations hadn’t bothered her today. The doctor had said nausea was normal for someone with child.

  With child! How could that be? Well, she knew how. She remembered asking Beth questions and how Beth had laughed at her naivety, but she had answered. Anna just didn’t realize it could happen from the first time ever being with her husband. She knew very little about such matters. She should have guessed since she had been quite late for her menstrual cycle, but really, it never occurred to her. She just assumed it had to do with the ailments she suffered. How right she had been.

  She slipped into her nightdress and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. Turning to the side, she pressed her gown against her body. Just a tiny paunch, only noticeable to herself and invisible to others.

  She shuffled over to the basin and splashed water on her face. She had to tell White Eagle. But if she did, that meant he’d take her away. She’d have to say goodbye to Denver. And she still hadn’t found what she came for. Maybe she’d never find it.

  What are your dreams, Anna?

  White Eagle’s words echoed in her mind.

  What were her dreams anyway? She thought it was Denver. But now she doubted.

  After drying her face, she climbed into bed. As she leaned over to put out the lantern, she remembered her parents’ photographs. Why hadn’t White Eagle returned them? He knew how important they were to her. She should ask him tomorrow where they were. But if she went to him tomorrow, she’d have to tell him about the baby. No, she couldn’t go to him tomorrow. At least not until she’d found what she was looking for.

  The next morning she woke up weak and tired. After getting dressed and ready for work, she hurried from her room down the hall.

  “What’s the rush?” Mrs. Peterson called.

  Anna stepped back and peered into the small kitchen that boasted a nice wood-burning stove and small table set for breakfast near the far window. “I’m going down to work,” she said.

  “It’s Saturday, dear. My husband decided long ago that we would close the shop on Saturdays, and I’ve been very happy with that rule.” She flashed a big grin. “So, you don’t have to work today.”

  “Oh.” Now what would she do? Work was the only thing that kept her mind off of White Eagle. “Well,
I can work some more.”

  “Anna, I admire your enthusiasm, but you’re working yourself to death.” Mrs. Peterson dried her hands on her apron. “Look at yourself. You’ve got circles under your eyes. It’s time for you to take a day off. You’ve earned it. Besides, I have wonderful news! Mr. Dubois has arranged for a party tonight in celebration of Jean-Marc’s heroism.” She stepped closer as if imparting a secret. “From what I’ve heard from Mr. Dubois, it was like pulling teeth, trying to get Mr. Charvet to agree to the party.” Mrs. Peterson giggled.

  The last thing Anna needed was to go to some party, especially if White Eagle would be there. “I don’t have anything to wear.” That would be a good excuse not to attend.

  “Oh, yes you do.” Mrs. Peterson removed her apron, her eyes light and merry. “There’s something for you downstairs.” She winked.

  Anna followed Mrs. Peterson downstairs to the shop. A garment bag hung from one of the high hooks. Mrs. Peterson opened the bag and pulled out a mass of royal blue silk. Pearled buttons lined the back of the dress, and a sheer string of white lace barely showed itself above the collar. Its cuffs and hem were embroidered with dark blue flowers. It was the most beautiful gown Anna had ever seen.

  “This is for you, my dear. You’ll be the most beautiful woman there.”

  Anna’s breath caught in her throat. This dress was for her? How could Mrs. Peterson afford such a thing? It was just as lovely as those gowns she’d seen in the Mode de Paris shop. “I’ve never owned anything so beautiful in my life.”

  “Well, now you do.” Mrs. Peterson smiled.

  “Thank you.” The words barely made it past her lips.

  “Oh, don’t thank me, dear.” She winked and turned to go upstairs. “We have a big evening awaiting us. Now come, let’s enjoy today and later we can make ourselves ready. I have a bustle you can wear. It will fit perfectly with this dress. Grab that hat box—it goes with your gown.”

  Fancy dresses and ballroom dancing filled Anna’s mind. Finally, she would have the opportunity to take part in an elegant party, wearing her own beautiful gown. Anytime her uncle wished to impress new clients, all she’d ever been allowed to do was serve at such functions.

  She could almost bring herself to skip up the stairs, but she stopped short when she realized she would have to see White Eagle.

  A dread turned in the pit of her stomach. How could she hide this secret to his face?

  ~*~

  With all the fuss over getting ready for the party, Anna and Mrs. Peterson were late by the time they arrived at the hotel. The porter welcomed them into the empty lobby, and they shook off the cold as they handed him their cloaks. The sun had been out all day, but the cold evening air went right through Anna’s thin gloves and boots.

  As the porter escorted them up the stairs, her heart fluttered with every step she took. Would White Eagle be there yet? Would he be happy to see her? It seemed like forever since they’d last spoken.

  They neared the top of the stairs, and she held her breath. Her dress fit perfectly, and her hair hung in ringlets over her shoulders and down her back, hopefully all still in place. She felt like a princess going to her first ball.

  When the doors opened, bright colors swirling under the beautiful chandeliers spilled in front of them. Dancers turned and glided across the floor, and their gowns reflected in the polished wood. A group of musicians performed at one end of the grand ballroom, and sashes draped from one high window to the other on all sides. Mr. Dubois, in his fashionable frock, whisked Mrs. Peterson away. Her laughter filled the air, as the music, talk, and perfumed scents rushed over Anna.

  Holding her breath, she crept into the room, feeling like she didn’t belong. Never had she been in a room so grand, not even when serving at one of her uncle’s parties. Her gaze darted from one guest to the other, her vision almost blurring in the mass of people. But finally she found White Eagle.

  Their eyes met, and her heart leaped in her chest. She moved back near the wall.

  He held a glass and watched her, strikingly handsome with his polished shoes, nicely fitted trousers, and dark blue frock coat. His black hair, brought into submission and bound at his neck, brought to mind his savagery. Their first meeting swam through her mind when she’d seen him standing on the bank with feathers and painted face. Now there he stood like a new penny, clean and shiny, all prim in civilized attire.

  He set his glass down on a nearby table decked with various foods. With his gaze trained on hers, he strode toward her.

  As he neared, her heart quickened. She recalled the last party they’d attended at his village. He’d danced, and she’d watched him move to the rhythm of the drums. His moccasins and clothes had flourished in the moonlight, but now, his sure stride was smooth and gentleman-like.

  “May I have this dance?” He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. His gentle touch burned hot when she spotted her wedding ring pushed down on his pinkie.

  The ring. She’d completely forgotten about the ring. To think, she threw it at him.

  She nodded, unable to speak. His very presence seemed to make every part of her go weak, including her tongue.

  He placed her hand on his elbow and led her amongst the dancing guests.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve danced,” she said. “I’m sure I’ve forgotten how.”

  “I’ll keep it simple,” he said. “I’m not very good at it myself.”

  He whisked her across the floor, and the other guests watched them. Mrs. Peterson flashed a smile and winked.

  He grinned and nodded then gazed at Anna. “You look beautiful, tsevestoemose.” As always, he said the word in Cheyenne.

  “I know what you’re calling me, White Eagle. Wife.”

  “Aaahhh, to hear you say it just confirms that I’m right.” He grinned. “After this week, I began to wonder.”

  Those blue-green eyes she’d longed to see. She had no idea how much she had missed him until now. Excitement and intrigue radiated from his presence.

  “What do you mean?” she said, trying to force her mind back to the conversation.

  “Word has it that my new wife is having an affair with a certain Hervé Dubois.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. “That woman from the dress shop. She’s nothing but a slanderer,” she said, more to herself than to him.

  “And what have you been telling the women at the dress shop?” He arched his brow.

  “Noting.” She swallowed.

  “Noting?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Hmm. There’s a lot of gossip going around for someone who has supposedly said nothing.”

  “She was being rude.” Anna stared at his silk shirt, avoiding his gaze. “I wanted to buy a new dress and she scoffed at me, practically kicked me out of her ‘high-class’ store. She was quite insulting.” She recalled all the cruel things the woman had said, especially about him. “She’s not a kind woman at all.”

  “And you thought if you told them you were my wife that they would treat you better?”

  “I—well, yes.” She looked up at him again.

  He smiled. “Well, I didn’t hear the gossip from the woman at the fancy dress shop.” He placed emphasis on the word “fancy” as though he were amused. “I heard it from Hervé who had heard it from some woman at a cafe.”

  The heat in the room became so great Anna wished for a fan. Amazing how fast gossip traveled in such a large town.

  His boyish grin made Anna smile. Oh, how she missed him. “So, where have you been?”

  He arched a brow. “You’ve missed me?”

  “Well, I . . . .” She dropped her gaze to his silk shirt again.

  “You said you needed time.”

  Time. Yes, she did say that. But all she could do during that so-called time was think of him.

  “I simply gave you what you wanted. And it wasn’t easy,” he added in a low tone.

  They spun on the dance floor. He’d been respectful of her wishe
s.

  When he relaxed his hold, she eased away and noticed his eyes graze over her. “The dress suits you,” he said. “Blue is definitely your color. I chose well.”

  “What do you mean? Mrs. Peterson gave me this dress.”

  “I doubt she said that.”

  “Well, no, actually she didn’t, but I just assumed—”

  “You assume much, Morning Sun. The gown is my gift.”

  Her gaze fell on the colors of his silk tie and the deep blue flowers embroidered on his vest and noticed how perfectly they matched her dress. “Thank you. Really, you shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s my pleasure. There are a lot more where that came from. Come home to me and you can have all the gowns you want.”

  Arguing with him now would be useless, so she would change the subject. Besides, how could she explain that she still hadn’t found what she was looking for?

  “I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” she said, clearing her throat, “about those Batland Boys.” She took a deep breath, still trying to bring her mind to the subject at hand.

  He frowned.

  “I know you’re not a thief, and I know you did what you had to do to save my life. Forgive me for ever thinking the worst,” she said. “I read what you did in the newspapers. It said that one of those men killed your father.” She kept her voice low. “You rode with them for the marshal just so you could capture those horrible men. And they were the ones that robbed the stagecoach I was on.”

  He nodded.

  “I could have gotten you killed. I had no idea . . . . Why didn’t you tell me what was going on while we were still at Mountain Jack’s?”

  His faced darkened. “Why did you leave Jack’s place?”

  She blinked, hoping to mask her guilt. “It was Jack’s idea.”

  “Hmm.”

  Seeing in his expression that he didn’t believe her, she realized he knew the truth and that she’d planned on leaving on her own. “You were gone so long, I thought you’d abandoned me.”