by Jenna Kernan
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, watching her try to figure out their relationship, but offering nothing further.
Her gaze went to Sarah, who stood with lips pressed together and arms folded. She turned back to Thomas.
He tipped back his hat. “Perhaps you can direct us to the head man’s office?”
“Are you assisting Mrs. West in her search?”
“That’s right.”
“How kind.” She motioned to a corporal. “Mr. Abby, do take our guests to Major Brennan.” She grinned at Thomas. “Welcome to Fort Laramie, Mr. West.” Her smile faltered as she turned to his traveling companion. “And welcome back, Sarah.”
Thomas cast Sarah a stern look, causing her to hesitate before saying whatever it was she had intended.
At last she said only, “Thank you.”
Abby motioned. “This way.”
They were escorted across the road to the offices of the commander.
Major Brennan stood as they entered but looked none too pleased to see them. He was a thin man whose bushy brown mustache seemed to emphasize his weak chin. Thomas stared into watery blue eyes beneath a broad shiny forehead and thinning hair.
“Major, I’m Thomas West.” He extended his hand and the man hesitated before accepting his open palm. “And this is Sarah West.”
He waited in vain for Brennan to offer them a seat.
“We’ve met,” he said. His expression turned sour as he nodded at Sarah and then focused his attention back on Thomas. “Your name is also West?”
“I’m, well—”
“My late husband’s brother,” Sarah said.
Brennan glanced at Sarah before glaring at Thomas. “I’ve been expecting you. You’re the man who likes to kick the hind end of a badger and see what happens.”
Sarah’s gaze flashed from Thomas to Major Brennan. He saw she was working herself up for a frontal assault and lifted a hand in a foolish attempt to ward her off.
Thomas kept his tone civil. “I haven’t seen any badgers hereabouts, nor Sioux, either, though I am hopeful for your assistance in a personal matter.”
“Lucie West. Yes. I am aware of your mission. The whole damn country is aware, thanks to you.” He threw a copy of the Daily Bee upon his desk. “My brother sent me this. These—” he withdrew a stack of letters “—come from Washington.”
“Then you are mindful that I am willing to offer a reward for her safe return,” said Thomas.
Brennan’s eyes flicked from Thomas to Sarah and back again. He seemed about to speak when Sarah interceded.
“Why haven’t you sent a search party?”
The major leaned forward, resting his weight upon his knuckles. “Well now, Mrs. West, you and I had this conversation about four months ago. I told you then, I didn’t have the resources or the authorization to go tracking hostile Sioux.”
Thomas admired the way she straightened her spine, rising up like a mother bear to defend her cub.
“Have matters remained unchanged in that regard?” she asked.
“Somewhat. I still have no resources, but, thanks to your interference, I now have new orders to kill all hostile Indians on sight.”
Thomas wondered who decided which Indians were hostile, but Sarah sighed in relief.
“Wonderful,” she said.
“You might not think so when you hear the rest. We caught up with a band two weeks ago and killed two dozen before they escaped. They had a white woman captive with a little boy.”
“You recovered them?” asked Thomas.
“We recovered their butchered bodies.”
Sarah gasped and Thomas’s hand went to her elbow to steady her.
Thomas didn’t like the man’s bluntness. The officer obviously wanted to frighten Sarah and succeeded. She swayed as Thomas tightened his grip upon her.
“Major,” he said, glaring at the man.
“The Sioux don’t give up captives, Mr. West, unless it’s for ransom. Perhaps you didn’t know that when you started this…campaign.” He thumped his fist down on the folded newspaper. “If you had, you might have reconsidered, because if we get close to the band holding Miss West, the Sioux will slit her throat and leave her body in the dust of their fleeing ponies.”
Thomas guided Sarah to the chair in front of the man’s desk and then leaned across the cluttered surface.
“Major, your insensitivity in this matter is outrageous.”
“And so are your efforts to undermine my authority here. I’ve been instructed to inform you as to the actions being taken. The government will get those savages onto reservations or kill them all. This is a war, sir, and Miss West is a prisoner of it.”
“Do you have any contact with the Sioux?” asked Thomas.
“There are some friendlies who trade here. I suggest you make a ransom offer to them. If your gal is alive, they might take you up on it. Course, what they want most is ammunition and weapons.”
“Then I’ll supply them,” said Thomas.
“You’ll not. Trading arms with Indians is now illegal.”
“Do they favor money?” asked Sarah.
“They do and I’ll tell you why. They’ll take your gold and use it to buy guns at one of the trading posts that isn’t so particular about law or morality. Then they’ll use those weapons, which you provided, to murder as many whites as they can get a bead on. You’ll be helping them kill your own kind and take more captives. I just wanted you to know the cost of your daughter’s return in Christian lives.”
Sarah’s shoulders slumped. It was the first sign of weakness Thomas had seen. Her defeated posture only strengthened Thomas’s resolve.
“Are you refusing to assist us?”
“Oh no, Mr. West.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “I have orders to see Mrs. West is happy enough that she doesn’t give any more interviews to the newspapers. I’m to give you all necessary assistance as long as it does not conflict with my orders or jeopardize the safety of this fort.”
“I see. Then we’ll talk again, say, tomorrow?”
The major nodded and walked them to the door. “Until then.”
Thomas guided Sarah through the door and out of earshot.
“Isn’t he the little drop of sunshine?” muttered Thomas.
Sarah turned to him. “Have we made a mistake?”
“What mistake?”
“I don’t want to be the cause of another family’s misery. I don’t want to give the Indians guns to kill other settlers.”
“Now you listen here. We are doing what it takes, anything it takes to get Lucie back. If that means giving them money or horses or the damned shirts off our backs, we’ll do it.”
She clutched his coat. “But what if the army attacks the band she is with? You heard him. They’ll kill her.”
“Then we’ll work quick and get her free before the worst of it comes. The Sioux will go down, but they’ll go down fighting. Soon this whole damned territory will be a battlefield and I mean to find my daughter and get us clear before then.”
Chapter Eleven
They met with Major Brennan the following day after lunch.
“I’ll direct you to the next Ogallala Sioux that comes in. You can send him back with a letter making your offer.”
“They can read?” asked Sarah.
“Your gal can. Maybe you could insist she write the reply as proof she lives. You might get lucky and have some word from her.”
A knock sounded on the door. Brennan barked his permission and in marched a young soldier with pink cheeks and a neck covered with razor burn.
“Well?” asked the major.
The soldier looked from Thomas to Sarah and hesitated. Finally, he cleared his throat and addressed his commanding officer.
“We found something four miles west of Little Butte.”
Brennan lifted his eyebrows and gave his underling an impatient look. The young man stepped around the desk and presented a small book bound in brown leather. Then he bent and whispered in the m
ajor’s ear as if they were old school chums.
Sarah’s hawk-like gaze narrowed in suspicion. Brennan flipped open the book jacket and scanned the page, still listening to his underling.
The corporal straightened.
“Any others?” asked his superior.
The soldier shook his head.
“All right. Dismissed, Corporal.”
The soldier scurried from them as fast as he could manage without running.
The major drew a deep breath and Thomas knew the news was bad. He pressed his feet into the floor, bracing.
“We found a body.”
Sarah inched closer to Thomas.
“It’s a young woman. She’s been scalped.”
Sarah’s denial came before the man could draw his next breath.
“That could be anyone.”
“She carried this book.” He laid it open before him. “Inside were two names—Alice French and Lucie West.” The major pointed. “That your gal’s signature?”
Sarah shook her head. “It’s not her.”
“Mrs. West, look at it.”
She lowered her gaze and then lifted her hand to stifle the cry.
“I need someone to identify the body.”
Sarah rose woodenly to her feet, her eyes staring at the book. She reached out and drew her fingers over her daughter’s name.
“Lucie.”
Thomas rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go.”
She fell into his arms, her luminescent gaze radiating her gratefulness. Then she stilled and stared at him in horror. “You’ve never seen her.”
“I have her photo and your descriptions.”
The major rose. “This way.”
Sarah stood trembling in the center of the room as Thomas squeezed her arm and then stepped away.
“Wait here,” he said.
For the first time, she did not insist he take her along, but only nodded and he understood that she used all her strength just to remain standing.
“I’ll hurry back.”
Thomas stepped into the cool September sunshine and gathered his resolve. The last time, when Hyatt had died, he had not been able to see the carnage. He recalled the terrible odor of blood and scattered flour mixed with burning canvas and wood. And the cries for God’s mercy. Hyatt calling his name as Thomas staggered blindly forward. The shrieks had died as the wagon crumbled to earth. A terrible silence had followed.
“Mr. West? Mr. West.”
Thomas lifted his head to find Brennan grasping his arm.
“Are you all right, man?”
“Yes.” But it was a lie. He had never been right since that day.
“You’ve seen this before.” It wasn’t a question. “Well, then, best get it over with.”
Thomas nodded, following Brennan as they headed for the wagon just inside the front gate. Thomas forced one foot before the next as his hand slid into his breast pocket to finger the portrait of Lucie, bright and smiling.
Had they come all this way only to find her dead?
He whispered a prayer that she was not in that wagon as he halted beside the major. Before him lay a dusty blue wool blanket buzzing with flies. The outline of a body was clear beneath. A sergeant, standing watch, lowered the yellow scarf he wore over his nose against the stench of death.
“She’s been out there several days, sir. Buzzards got after her. Savages took her scalp and fingers.”
Major Brennan lowered the brim of his hat and nodded. “All right then, let’s have a look.”
The sergeant threw back the blanket. The scent of death enveloped Thomas. The gall rose in his throat as he stared at the bloated corpse swollen beyond recognition. The girl gazed up from empty sockets devoid of eyes. Her head was a raw red wound where the skin had been hastily removed. At the fringes, light brown hair was all that was left of the fertile field that had once grown there.
Thomas had time only to bend at the waist before retching. When he straightened, the corpse lay covered beneath the thin blue wool and the flies, airborne now, buzzed in a cloud about the men. The major offered his handkerchief.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Thomas wiped his mouth and pocketed the soiled cloth.
“Brown,” he said.
“Beg pardon?”
“Brown. Her hair. Lucie’s is red. I need a lock.”
The man flipped up a corner of the blanket and used his knife to slice away a hank of hair. He extended the grisly trophy to Thomas.
He fingered the soft lock.
The relief that swept though him was so strong it buckled his knees. He rocked against the wagon a moment, gripping the strand. He had to tell Sarah.
“Are you certain?” asked Brennan.
“Yes.”
Brennan nodded. “Alice French, then. Sergeant, muster a burial detail.”
Thomas ran across the yard. He would not keep Sarah in agony one moment longer than necessary.
He dashed up the step and into the office without knocking to find her collapsed on the floor.
Thomas gathered her in his arms.
“Sarah, Sarah. Wake up now. It’s all right. It’s not Lucie. It’s not her.”
Her eyes blinked open and she clutched at him.
“Are you sure, Thomas?”
He held up the lock of hair and she grasped it like a lifeline, drawing it to her cheek and weeping. In the next instant she threw her arms about his neck as the tears turned to sobs.
“Thank God,” she said, choking with emotion. “Oh, thank God.”
Her tears continued as Thomas rocked her in his lap like a child. At last, she quieted and then looked up, meeting his gaze. The expression of relief on her tear-stained face changed into something resembling horror. Her pale cheeks and pinched lips made his breathing catch.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I was so glad it’s not Lucie, I didn’t think…I didn’t…I’m jubilant at another girl’s death. Oh, Thomas, how she suffered, just like Lucie. And she has a mother, too. How could I be so heartless as to rejoice at her passing?”
“Sarah, you didn’t kill her.”
“I feel as if I had.”
“That’s nonsense. You would never hurt a soul.”
Their eyes met and locked as they both knew it as a lie. She had hurt him, deeply.
“Perhaps this is punishment for my sins.”
“You aren’t a sinner. You and I, we’re just unlucky.”
She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, nestling against him. He closed his eyes and breathed the scent of chamomile blossoms, savoring this moment of tenderness.
“Unlucky. Yes. But lucky this day. What was her name?”
“Alice.”
“God rest her soul.”
He hugged Sarah, wishing he had the nerve to kiss her, grateful that she allowed him to comfort her just this once. Gradually, she lifted her head to show him red eyes and hair sticking out in all directions.
“Do you know what that book means?” asked Thomas. “We have the first real proof that she’s alive.”
She gasped. It was true. Sarah had never doubted it, but now they had evidence to show the world, clues to use in their search.
Sarah drew back, suddenly filled with urgency. “She’s still out there among them. Oh, Thomas, they might do the same to her. We have to hurry. Something terrible will happen if we don’t rescue her.”
He let her go. “All right, little mother. We’ll find her.”
He brushed her thick hair back into place. The gentleness of his touch nearly made her weep again. How she missed his tenderness. He gazed down with an expression she had not seen since before he left. How she longed for those days.
She smiled up at him, realizing that her terror was gone, drained away by the confidence in his cornflower blue eyes. He eased back and she clutched at him, reluctant to let go. Then remembering herself and her surroundings, she allowed him to assist her up. The weakness had gone from her limbs. Hope now h
eld back the dread.
“Do you really think there’s a chance, Thomas?”
“We’ll get her back.”
He did not hesitate an instant. His certainty buoyed her, tipping the scales toward faith.
“I’m so grateful to you. I know you were well settled in California.”
“This is more important. Maybe I survived that attack so I could save my little girl.”
He took her hand and she did not pull back, accepting the comfort he offered. They left the office hand in hand, stepping out into the bright afternoon sun. She followed the direction of his gaze to the wagon by the main gate and could not repress a shudder.
Thomas dragged off his hat and mumbled a quick prayer, breaking the contact between them. They stood momentarily lost.
“We’ll get the word out through as many Indians as possible,” Thomas finally said. “The Sioux wander far and wide. No telling where they’ve taken her or who would have seen her.”
Sarah gazed through the gate, past the river, to the endless prairie that stretched out to meet the sky. How would they ever find one little girl in that ocean of grass?
Chapter Twelve
The army did not chase their tribe far and soon Lucie found herself walking southward once more in another caravan, on foot rather than on horseback. Her arms ached from all the goods Yellow Bird forced her to carry, but at least she had rope to bind the load together.
After her last mishap, she planned to be more careful about dropping things. Her clumsiness had caused Eagle Dancer’s brick-colored pipe, carved to resemble his favorite horse, to break in two pieces. She hunched her bruised shoulders in memory of the beating Yellow Bird had given her.
Fast Bear drew alongside her. She gazed downward. A slave did not stare directly; she had learned that lesson early in her time here. Something dangled in her face. She glanced up at the bloody scalp before her. It took a moment to note the waves of light brown hair.
“Your friend,” he said and she understood.
Alice’s escape had failed. Lucie staggered and fell to her knees as Fast Bear dragged Alice’s hair over her head. Lucie cried out in horror slapping at the locks that snarled and snagged.
“Stop.” She recognized the voice and the authoritative tone. The scalp was drawn away.
