High Plains Bride

by Jenna Kernan

  “Ambush,” said Sergeant Farrow, glancing about at the landscape instead of at the bloody ground. “Them Sioux led him right to the slaughter.”

  Thomas looked at the gash across the torso of the nearest man, a skinny fellow with more beard than brawn. His ribs lay exposed and his punctured intestine lay bloated and stinking.

  “Send back for the wagons,” said Farrow. “Marshal, you muster a burial detail. Looks like we’ll have a proper cemetery by nightfall.”

  Farrow found Coffland’s body and stared down at the scalpless head.

  “Stupid bastard,” he said and then spit on the ground beside the corpse.

  “Why did they cut them up?” asked Private Taylor.

  Farrow snorted. “Savages believe that how you die is how you go to heaven. They’re forcing our men to enter the afterlife all cut up and stinking. Heathens, with no notion of Christ the Savior. Damned for it, too, each bloody one of them.”

  Thomas thought the entire plains damned by the war that had just begun. He left the work of loading the stiff bodies to the soldiers and went with the scouts to learn the direction the band of raiders had taken. Two hours into the mission, he realized he had picked the most dangerous job possible and the one that kept him away the longest.

  “I should show more sense,” he muttered.

  He’d spent so much of his life acting for himself, without regard for others. But now he had responsibilities.

  As they journeyed along the trail left by the Sioux, his unease grew. Too late to turn back, he decided, and too dangerous to travel alone. He buckled down and vowed to start thinking of Lucie and Sarah before himself.

  For the first time in his life, his death would now matter to someone else. Sarah needed him. The thought warmed his insides as he recalled her kiss. For a moment there, he almost believed she still loved him. She’d asked him not to do this again, then added “until we find her,” as if she didn’t give a damn what he did after that. Took the wind clean out of his sails. Did she think he could just walk away?

  Damned if he would.

  The scouts found the place where the band had broken in two, and halted.

  “They’ll just do that again in a few miles,” said Farrow. “I see no reason to risk our scalps. Besides, the best way to track them is through the arrows they left behind.”

  Soon they were galloping toward the fort.

  The audacity of the attack struck the soldiers hard. To kill a patrol just beyond the fort, well, the act was atrocious and damned brave. Thomas thought back to yesterday and the Indian he’d watched through a spyglass from the fort wall. The brave rode a dark horse decorated with white spots and a yellow thunderbolt on the flank. Thomas thought the man must be crazy to stick his finger in the eye of the U.S. Cavalry. A crazy Indian on a pock-marked horse.

  As they came within sight of the fort walls, Thomas noted an unfamiliar sight upon the parapets. There stood a woman in a dark blue dress.

  Sarah.

  How the devil had she managed to get up there when Brennan absolutely forbade her presence on the catwalk?

  There was no telling what that woman was capable of.

  His heart swelled with pride to see her solitary vigil. As he approached, he pushed back the unfamiliar stab of guilt at making her wait and worry.

  For the first time in years, he had someone to come home to.

  Someone whose kisses scorched him like a firebrand.

  His stomach tightened as he forced down the desire that pounded through him with every beat of his heart. Damn, he wanted to kiss her again—wanted to do more than kiss her.

  The suffering they had both endured had changed them. It could never be forgotten. Perhaps that was how it should be. The question was, how to move past it?

  He glanced to where she waited cast against the blue sky and lifted his hand. She returned his salute and then disappeared as his party neared the gate.

  She carried something in her hand as she swept across the yard. Of course, by now she knew there were no survivors. The burial detail was working just outside the gates.

  He hoped she had not stood upon the wall as the evidence of the Sioux savagery paraded beneath her feet.

  Had she seen the bodies?

  He swung down as she approached and felt suddenly awkward. Would she greet him with another kiss or a tirade for going with the scouts? He walloped the dust from his sleeves and vest with his hat. Then he stood, waiting.

  She hesitated, three steps back, as if held by some invisible line in the sand.

  “I’m glad to see you unharmed,” she said, her voice sounding strained. “Brennan wants to see you.”

  No kiss then. He tried to hide his disappointment. “How’d you get up on that wall?”

  She smiled. “I ascended the ladder.”

  He lifted a brow and she smiled.

  “I told the major he would have to physically restrain me and then, upon your return, he would have you to deal with. I never expected him to concede.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Something has happened.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not certain. But after the mail arrived, he called me to him and told me to bring you at your earliest convenience.”

  “Odd.”

  She extended several newspapers. “And these came.”

  He unfolded the first paper and she pointed to the headline reading Army Fails To Rescue White Captive. Beneath this was, Lucie West Still Missing, Army Makes No Attempt At Recovery.

  “I see why Brennan wants to parley,” he said. “Have you read it?”

  “All of them.” She took the reins from his hand and led his mount toward the stables as he scanned the article. He gave a whistle.

  “They sure do make the army look bad.”

  “As well they should,” she said. “Not only did they allow the trains of settlers to travel without the most meager of escorts, they also gave no word of earlier attacks to which they were privy. Had we known of the unrest, we would most certainly have traveled in greater numbers. In my mind, they are as much the cause of this as the Sioux.”

  Sarah handed off his horse to a private and waited while Thomas read the next article.

  “Read this one,” she pointed. “They are calling for the president to take some decisive action against these murderers.”

  “It is their land,” said Thomas.

  Sarah cast him an incredulous look. “And they can have it. I only meant to travel through.”

  Thomas decided discretion was the better part of valor and said no more on that subject. At last he folded the paper.

  “Let’s go see the major.”

  “He did not ask for me.”

  Thomas draped an arm around her and steered her across the yard. It was not the kiss he longed for, but it would have to do.

  “Any woman who can force her way to the catwalk should find no challenge in gaining entrance to a little meeting.”

  She grinned at him and he thought it the prettiest smile in the world.

  His arm slipped about her waist as they walked side-by-side past the dust-covered men returning from burying their dead.

  Out in the courtyard, Sarah’s step faltered. She shrugged off his embrace. He turned to see Mrs. Douglas noting their passage. Thomas sighed and tipped his hat to the woman, who inclined her head.

  Thomas turned to important matters. “Did you see them?”

  She gave a jerking nod and said nothing.

  “Twice in my lifetime I’ve seen a massacre. I pray to God that this is the last,” she said.

  “Amen,” he said.

  “You were right before, Thomas, when you said that this is their land and they will fight our coming. It is only the beginning.”

  Thomas waited with Sarah in Major Brennan’s office while the corporal sought out the commander. He appeared a few minutes later and glared at the papers Thomas held in his hand.

  “You’ve seen them, then.” The man looked like he was trying to swallow sour
milk. “I’ve received new orders in today’s mail granting permission to enter the Black Hills in pursuit of Miss West.”

  “Thank God,” said Sarah.

  “I wouldn’t give thanks just yet. I’m also authorized to exterminate any hostile Sioux I meet and seek out and kill any man, woman or child giving succor to these raiders.”

  “But you will ransom Lucie,” said Thomas.

  The major shook his head. “I am to demand her release. If they refuse, I am to take her by force.”

  “But you said the Sioux kill their captives rather than release them.”

  “I am aware of that. Unfortunately for your daughter, the lamebrains who wrote my orders are not.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Black Tail told Lucie to meet him by the river at daybreak. It seemed foolish to leave at dawn when she would be so quickly missed. The night before her escape, she lay awake trying to decide what to do.

  If she were caught, it would be her scalp hanging from a warrior’s saddle. She did not know Black Tail or if he could be trusted. He might well lead her into a trap.

  Her mother told her to go with this Black Tail, but her belly ached and that usually meant something was wrong.

  But if she stayed, she would lose her one chance at escape. Eagle Dancer planned to wed her when she finished their lodge. She feared all that a marriage to this warrior entailed. He was so big and so old, nearly twenty, she thought.

  By dawn she decided to put her faith in this stranger who boasted of trickery.

  She rose before the bird songs and crept past the sleeping forms of Shadow and Blue Elk. From habit she grabbed two buffalo bladders to fill with water and took nothing else.

  The family dog rose and stretched as she stepped out of the teepee. He trotted along with her as was his custom. How far would he follow?

  At the river, she waited. The sky turned gray and birds flitted from branch to branch. There was no sign of Black Tail. When the sun rose, she felt in her bones that she had been betrayed.

  Terror stiffened her limbs. Women came to the river to gather water. Any moment, she would be missed. She must go back and convince them she had not run. She threw off her dress and waded into the river. She dunked her hair and scrubbed her body in the icy water.

  Lucie wrung out her hair and braided it tightly before donning her dirty shift and dress. The river mud squished cold between her toes as she filled the bladders with water.

  Returning the way she came, she found each step a test of her will. Fear made her tremble, shaking water from the tops of the containers.

  The dog appeared as she climbed the bank and trotted before her as she returned to the teepee. She hesitated as she noticed Eagle Dancer sitting with Black Tail before the lodge of Blue Elk. She nodded as if nothing was amiss and she continued, hanging the water on a peg inside the lodge. Shadow and Yellow Bird sat beside the fire.

  “So, you came back,” said Black Tail.

  Lucie stood before the men, ordering herself to hold still and keep her hands relaxed at her sides.

  “I thought you might, after I did not come.” He tossed her mother’s letter before him. Lucie glanced down, able to control all but her breathing which came in short frantic pants.

  “What is this?” she asked, turning to Eagle Dancer.

  His scowl deepened, but now seemed knit with confusion.

  “Black Tail says you agreed to run away with him,” said Eagle Dancer.

  Lucie drew an indignant breath. “He lies. He begged me to run away with him but I said I am yours.”

  Black Tail’s jaw dropped. He rose to point an accusing finger. “She lies. I showed her the letter and she agreed to come with me.”

  Eagle Dancer stood between the two. “One is lying.” He turned to Lucie. “Why were you gone so long?”

  “I dropped the bladders in the river. I had to take off my dress and swim out to retrieve them.”

  He studied her damp skin and wet hair. “Did he tell you to meet him this morning?”

  Lucie wondered what Black Tail had said. She nodded. “But I did not go to the trees. I filled my skins at the river and came home to you.”

  Black Tail swore. “You cannot believe a slave over me.”

  Eagle Dancer studied his guest. “You spend much time at the fort these days. You have a new gun. How did you get it?”

  Black Tail’s face reddened. “I rode with Crazy Horse. We killed many blue coats.”

  “But you also went to the fort and got this letter. You are their messenger.”

  “They think I am friendly. But I kill the blue pony boys. I am a great liar, they believe anything I say,” he boasted.

  “You lie very well,” agreed Eagle Dancer. His voice made his words seem more insult than compliment.

  Black Tail bristled. “We will take this to your chief and see if he believes an enemy slave girl over a warrior with many coups.”

  Yellow Bird stood in the open doorway, a malicious smile curling her lips.

  “I believe Black Tail. The girl betrayed you. First she cuts her wrist and now she runs. She will do anything to escape you.”

  Her son flushed scarlet. He turned to Black Tail. “I think you tried to steal her and when I followed you to the river, you made up this tale.”

  “What would I want with a white girl with legs like a walking stick?”

  Yellow Bird stepped from her daughter’s lodge and between the two men before they exchanged blows. “The council should know of this letter. You must bring it to them.” She grabbed Lucie in a punishing grip. “I will watch your slave in your absence.”

  A shudder of pure panic washed down Lucie’s spine. She wanted to beg Eagle Dancer not to leave her with his mother. She called out but all the men strode on together without pause. Lucie’s heart sank as they disappeared behind a lodge. In the next instant she was hurled to the ground.

  “Evil temptress. Now you lure another. Can they not see you are an ugly little turd? It is that hair of yours.”

  In a moment Yellow Bird clasped a fistful of Lucie’s hair and pulled. With the other hand she lifted her skinning knife.

  The knife descended.

  Lucie screamed and kicked as the woman fell on top of her, but was unable to dislodge her weight. Certain that Yellow Bird meant to scalp her, Lucie fought for her life. In a matter of moments, it was over. Yellow Bird had her pinned to the ground, trapping both Lucie’s arms beneath her knees.

  Yellow Bird clasped one wet braid and yanked, forcing Lucie’s head up. The blade sliced the braid in two, releasing Lucie from the painful grip. The second braid followed the first. Lucie’s hair had once reached her hips. Yellow Bird had severed her tresses at her shoulder.

  A circle of women now watched the spectacle as Yellow Bird beat Lucie across the face with her severed braids.

  “You belong to my son. If you run, we will find you and kill you.”

  “I didn’t run,” Lucie cried.

  “I will beat the truth from you.”

  Pretty Sparrow, the wife of the chief, stepped forward.

  “She will not serve your son dead.”

  Yellow Bird raised her hand to beat Lucie again and Pretty Sparrow grasped her wrist.

  “Let her up.”

  Yellow Bird released Lucie but not her scowl. “She must learn she belongs to the Sioux.”

  “So mark her. Then all tribes will know she is our captive.”

  The old woman’s face brightened and she turned her beetle-black eyes on Lucie. “Yes. Thank you for your wisdom.”

  Pretty Sparrow inclined her head and departed, leaving Lucie at Yellow Bird’s mercy. Her tormentor dragged her to Shadow’s teepee.

  The conversation was too fast for Lucie to follow. But she had heard Pretty Sparrow’s words clearly. She’d said to mark her and Lucie’s belly quaked as terrible possibilities rose up in her thoughts. A branding iron. It was how cattle were marked. Or they might notch her ear like a sow.

  Her fright abated somewhat when
she saw Shadow grinding charcoal into a fine dust. Charcoal would not hurt, nor would it be permanent.

  Lucie watched as Shadow mixed in fat until she had a blue-gray paste that sucked at the pestle like thick mud.

  Lucie released the tension in her shoulders. Perhaps they would only draw some mark upon her clothing. Then she saw the bone awl gripped in Yellow Bird’s hand and panic seized her like a giant fist.

  “Lie down,” ordered Yellow Bird.

  Lucie eyed the weapon with widening eyes.

  “What will you do?”

  “You do not question me!” Yellow Bird’s voice rose to a screech like a hawk’s. “Lie down!”

  Lucie decided she had better run. Perhaps she could reach Eagle Dancer and he would help her. She shot to her feet, but Shadow grasped her ankle and Lucie fell hard on the dirt.

  In an instant Yellow Bird lay upon her chest, pressing the air from her lungs. Shadow grasped her jaw, holding her steady.

  “If you fight, the marks will be ugly,” said Shadow. “Lie still and we will be quick.”

  Tears leaked from Lucie’s eyes as Yellow Bird punctured the tender flesh of Lucie’s chin. Again and again the awl pierced, until blood ran down Lucie’s jaw and into her hair. She could not breathe. Her vision blurred. She wanted to faint, but the needle pricks came again and again, like the sting of a bee.

  Finally, Yellow Bird wiped away the blood. Lucie breathed a sigh, thinking the ordeal at an end until her captor lifted the pot of ink and rubbed it on Lucie’s chin.

  Tattooed.

  That was the mark. She had seen them on some of the women here, ugly blue stains upon their chins, ankles and arms.

  Next Yellow Bird stripped Lucie’s dress to the waist and turned her attention to Lucie’s upper arm. The ordeal began again.

  When Yellow Bird finally sat back, Lucie’s chin and both arms were smeared with blue-black paste and blood.

  Lucie’s head spun as she tried to leave the teepee. She hoped to wash in the river to draw away the charcoal.

  But the women made her sit, with her chin throbbing, until the blood dried. Only then was she permitted to go.

  She ran to the riverbank. There she scrubbed the tattoos with sand until blood poured down her neck and stained the front of her dress. Her shorn hair fell before her, covering her horrible face.