by Jenna Kernan
Sarah slunk across the yard. It would be only a matter of time before this woman shared her tasty morsel with the other cats. How had she let this happen again?
Thomas was indeed in the mess hall, engaged in conversation with a stranger. The man wore a heavy buffalo-skin coat, buckskin leggings and high, fringed moccasins, like an Indian. His thick brown hair lay loose and tangled, except for two even plaits behind his prominent ears. A bit of feather fluttered from leather cording holding one of his braids. Dark eyes, a crooked nose and a greasy beard, streaked with gray, gave him an intimidating air. Sarah paused, hoping this wild man was not the trader she had come to meet. The barbarian noticed her first and stood.
“Mademoiselle. I am Pierre Roubideaux.” The man’s French accent cut heavily through his words.
This was indeed the name the soldier had relayed to her.
She gathered her resolve. “Sarah West.”
Corporal Abby had failed to mention what a bear of a man Roubideaux was. Perhaps his bulk was mainly coat. She could only hope.
He offered his hand and she hesitated, glancing to Thomas for reassurance before stepping nearer. He neither encouraged nor dissuaded her by word or action, so she extended her hand, clasping the large rough surface of the trader’s palm.
“A pleasure.”
The man held her when she tried to draw back and lifted her hand for a kiss. The wet press of his lips nearly caused her to shudder, but she restrained herself as he released her hand.
She gave Thomas a quizzical look, trying to gauge whether his fury had passed. He met her gaze with cold regard. She preferred Thomas’s disdain to the trader’s familiarity, so she sat beside Thomas on the bench.
Mess was officially over and the men reported for work detail, leaving the room nearly empty.
“Thank you for seeing us,” she said, as if Thomas had been expecting her to join them. “Has Mr. West explained why we wished to speak with you?”
“He said he’s aiming to join up with me and see if he can find your little gal. That might work out.”
“Did he mention that I wish to accompany you?”
The trader glanced at Thomas, who kept his expression inscrutable, but she saw the blood vessel at his temple pulse.
“Not a good idea. Indians have a tendency of stealing horses and women.”
“I’m sure you could protect me.”
The trader laughed. “You’d be betting on the wrong horse. If the Sioux wanted you, I’d trade you over before I’d fight ’em. I’ve a business to protect.”
Sarah’s uncertainty prickled. “Likely I’d stir little interest. I’m not a young woman.”
“But you’re a handsome one and that hair of yours is bound to increase your value.”
She didn’t like the way Roubideaux surveyed her now, as if measuring how much he could get for her. She inched closer to Thomas.
Behind him, the door opened and Mrs. Corbit entered, still lugging her whining child. Their eyes met as the woman hustled to the cook. Sarah heard her ask for bread soaked in milk before she sidled closer, ears cocked to eavesdrop. Sarah fisted her hands and laid them on the table.
Thomas spoke to the trader, forcing Sarah’s attention back to the problem at hand. “I’ve told Sarah that she should remain here.”
“Then she stays.”
Thomas nodded.
She wished she could just get Thomas alone for a few minutes so she could find out about Hyatt.
Roubideaux flicked the crumbs from his beard and rose. “I’ll introduce you to my wife in the morning, West.”
“Wife?” Sarah glanced at Thomas, but he gave her no information so she turned back to Roubideaux. “Does she travel with you?”
“Every damn step.”
She scowled at Thomas. Why hadn’t he mentioned there was already a woman going along?
Sarah kept her voice conversational, leaving the resentment to burn below the surface. “She doesn’t eat with you?”
“Watching the supplies. Besides, Indians ain’t allowed in here.”
Sarah failed miserably to cover her surprise. Behind the trader, Chastity’s smile turned wicked.
Roubideaux laughed, showing rotting bottom teeth. “My gal is Yanktonai Sioux. She’s niece to one of the chiefs, fellow named Five Blankets.” He turned to Thomas. “Heard of him?”
Thomas shook his head.
“Well, being related to such a man helps me a heap more than being licensed by the government, I’ll tell you that.” Roubideaux touched the brim of his hat. “Goodbye, ma’am.” His gaze met Thomas’s. “I’ll see you at the gates at first light, West. Pack your own food. Plan for a month.”
He left them. Thomas finished his biscuits without a word to her.
She kept her voice low, so as to frustrate their uninvited guest. “Thomas, I need to speak with you.”
“You aren’t coming.”
A glance at Mrs. Corbit showed her rapt attention was focused on Sarah. Their eyes met for an instant and then the woman glanced at her babe, who sucked on a soggy bit of toast.
Sarah leaned in. “Thomas, surely you don’t plan to leave me. Not after you promised.”
“Don’t I?”
Her jaw dropped. She should have known. Hadn’t he already proven how little promises meant to him? No, that wasn’t fair. He had planned to return. That wasn’t his fault.
Thomas rose. “I’ve plenty to do.”
“Thomas, wait.”
He didn’t. Instead, he pulled his hat down over his eyes. “You can find me easy enough after you’ve had your breakfast.”
Sarah sat a long while upon that bench. A private brought her biscuits with gravy, pinto beans and black coffee.
“Ma’am? You all right?”
She blinked at him. “Oh, yes, thanks.”
Sarah stirred the beans until she had something resembling a tiny racetrack upon her plate. Again aware of her surroundings, she noted that Chastity had disappeared, scurrying off to spill her story, no doubt. Sarah slapped down her fork. Well, let her. Sarah had other troubles just now.
“Ma’am?”
She lifted her head from her hand and stared at the private whose bushy mustache did not disguise his youth.
“Major Brennan sent me looking for you, ma’am. He’d like a word.”
Brennan had never summoned her. In fact, he usually actively avoided her. Her mind flashed back to the last time he’d called—the day they had found Alice French.
A barrage of possible troubles assailed her. The worst came first. Lucie was dead. He had word or had discovered her body.
“Did he ask to see Thomas?”
“Don’t know, ma’am. Just know he sent me to find you.”
Her words croaked out like a toad’s. “What about?”
“He says to tell you that the Indian is back. The messenger.”
She flew to her feet.
Thomas appeared at the door and hastened to her.
“Is the Indian alone?” she asked the private.
“Ma’am?”
“Is my daughter with him?”
Sarah couldn’t help clutching her fingers about the private’s nearest arm.
“Oh, no, ma’am.”
Thomas grasped her elbow and they were off.
Chapter Nineteen
Eagle Dancer did not halt their wild ride until the village had disappeared behind the rolling hills. He sprang easily from his lathered horse and reached for Lucie.
She hesitated, staring down at this man who had been both protector and tormentor. Would he kill her now?
He motioned with his hands but did not speak, his face an inscrutable mask. That was when she realized that he was alone and she sat upon the horse. If she kicked, she might escape him. He would have a long walk back to the village and she would have a day’s head start on horseback.
She glanced around. The view was the same in every direction. Only the sun showed the way to go. East or south to her people. To the south she would
also find more Sioux, and the mark upon her chin now told all where she belonged.
When she glanced at him again, she found him holding the rein in his fist. She swung her leg over the horse’s shoulders and reached for him. He gripped her waist and brought her gently to her feet in the high grass.
“When will you learn to trust this one?” he asked.
She rubbed her chin. “You do not trust me.”
He scowled. “Trust must be earned.”
Lucie said nothing. Eagle Dancer stared for another moment and then turned to his horse, removing the saddle and sheepskin blanket before leading his mount to the stream that cut between two hills. The horse sucked greedily, his black lips drawn back to show yellow teeth.
Lucie dropped to her knees beside the horse and placed her lips to the cool water. Eagle Dancer cupped his hand and drank as well, then he hobbled his horse.
Lucie sat on the bank, her knees drawn up in protection as she wondered if she would have an opportunity to steal his horse.
“Why have you brought me here?”
She had already thought of several possibilities. The speed with which he appeared and the swiftness of her abduction from the tribe spoke of danger. At first she thought he meant to kill her, but why travel so far? Then she thought he meant to ravish her, but that did not explain their flight. Perhaps he tired of waiting for her to finish their lodge. She was proving a poor student and Shadow often shouted at her. In her mind, the teepee’s completion was to be postponed as long as possible. Like Penelope weaving a shroud, she actively sabotaged her work to avoid being forced to wed.
Eagle Dancer squatted beside her, comfortable on his haunches. He folded both arms upon his knees and studied her for a time.
He reached out a hand to stroke her head, combing back some of the hair that fell before her face.
“Do you think I mean to kill you?”
“Perhaps.”
He snorted. “You are my slave. I could kill you in the village and no one would stop me.”
“Why then?”
“I am afraid others will kill you.”
She stared as a quicksilver shot of terror flashed down her spine.
“What have I done?”
“It is your people’s work. But you are the nearest white and with so many dead, I fear they will hold you to blame, but I protect my most precious possession.” He stroked her cheek.
Lucie remained still, thinking that he was her only protector and it would not do to anger him by drawing away. Still, she did not fancy being a possession.
“What has happened?”
“A wagon train passed some miles to the south.” He indicated the direction with his arm. “Behind them, they leave boxes of bread.”
His head sank to his chest and he rolled back to sit beside her.
She held her breath in anticipation. The haunted expression on his face told her he had witnessed something terrible.
“I was with them. The bread was divided into equal shares.” He rose and went to his saddlebags, drawing out a parcel wrapped in hide. “I know you miss your mother and your people. So I saved my share to bring to you.”
Lucie swallowed back her trepidation, resisting the warmth that filled her at this news. “Thank you.”
His hands trembled as he opened the parcel. “The others did not wait. Many men ate their shares right there beside the wagon trail.” His jaw tensed as he ground his teeth together. “They fell to their knees, clutching their bellies.”
Lucie stared in horror at the bread.
Eagle Dancer threw back his head and gave a high-pitched cry that froze Lucie’s blood. She clamped her hands over her ears to block out the wail.
She could not seem to keep her eyes from him as he drew back his arm and hurled the bread to the ground, then crushed it to powder with his feet.
He turned to her, panting with rage. “Poisoned.”
Lucie rose to stand beside him. Sensing his agony, she reached out and rested a hand upon his forearm.
Tears filled his eyes as he stared at her. “Many good men died on the ground, writhing like sick dogs. Your people did this.”
“It was a cowardly act. I am shamed by it.”
He blinked, sending tears down his cheeks. Then with the quickness of a pouncing lion, he captured Lucie and dragged her to him. His arms crushed her in a desperate embrace.
“I might have brought that death to you. I might have lost you.”
She rested her cheek upon his warm chest and listened to the pounding of his heart.
“The survivors are crazed with pain and rage. They will make more war and take more lives in retribution. You are of the enemy, but still I cannot bear to see you harmed.”
“I have not made war on your people. I only meant to travel through this land on the way to the western ocean. Take me back to the fort, where I will be safe.”
He put her at arm’s length and stared at her with a look of fury.
“I will not. Soon you will be my wife. You must stop thinking of escape and accept your place, now.”
Lucie stared up at him and lied. “I never tried to leave you. Black Tail is a liar and would steal what is yours.”
He gave her a look full of suspicion. She tried another avenue.
“You say I am not safe with your people. Where are we to go? Where can we live in peace? My people will kill you and yours will kill me.”
Lucie thought her argument very wise until Eagle Dancer’s face turned red and the blood vessels at his neck bulged. She watched them pulse and feared what he would do.
“We stay together.”
“They’ll blame me, kill me and you will lose me to death.”
He did not deny it and that frightened Lucie even more. What she first saw as an opportunity to sway him into taking her to her people she now saw as a real possibility. She tottered on her feet as the seriousness of her situation settled heavily upon her narrow shoulders.
“In a few days, I will go back and see if it is safe for you.”
“And leave me here alone on the prairie. The wolves will find me.”
“I will hide you from them.”
“What if it is not safe? What if the others follow you?”
“I will protect you.”
Thomas noted that Sarah trembled as they walked together toward Major Brennan’s office. They found him standing at the window inside his headquarters with two corporals flanking the Indian named Black Tail.
“West, he has come back empty-handed.” Brennan nodded at Sarah. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Where is my daughter?” she asked the Sioux.
Brennan cleared his throat. “We are waiting for the translator. All we know is that he is alone.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she studied the bare-chested warrior, who stared straight ahead. She fidgeted in the strained silence, waiting.
Brennan opened the door and shouted at the guard posted before his entrance.
“Where’s the bloody man?”
“Coming, sir.”
The soldier pointed, and Thomas saw the half-breed trapper hurrying across the yard, still buttoning his shirt.
Brennan stepped aside to let him enter.
“You remember John Standing Forest?” he asked.
Thomas shook the man’s hand and Sarah nodded her greeting. The trapper lifted a hand to Black Tail and muttered something to which the man responded in kind.
“Ask him about Lucie West.”
The men talked and Sarah tugged at a button on her blouse until she managed to pull it free. She picked the loose thread from the fabric and wound it about her finger until the tip turned scarlet. Then she slid off her bindings and tucked them, with the button, into her pocket.
At last Standing Forest turned to Brennan. “He says the girl is dead.”
Sarah shot to her feet, staggered, and then, finding her balance, stalked forward, pointing an accusing finger at the Sioux.
“He’s lying.”
; Brennan ignored her. “What happened?”
“He says she ran and was captured.” He glanced at Sarah. “He gave details. They ain’t pretty.”
The warrior interrupted.
“He says he wants his wives back.”
“Not without Lucie,” said Thomas.
John Standing Forest spoke to the Sioux warrior. “He doesn’t have her.”
“Do you believe him?” Thomas asked the guide.
“Hard to say. I believe he wants his wives back, one in particular.”
“The bargain was Lucie West for his wives. He failed and brings no proof that what he says is true.” Thomas turned to Brennan. “His wives should stay here.”
The trapper spoke to Black Tail, whose face turned red. The warrior began to shout at Standing Forest. The corporals unholstered their revolvers. Thomas dragged Sarah behind him as Black Tail regarded the business end of two 44-caliber Colts.
“He says the girl is dead and the bargain is broken.”
“What proof does he have?” asked Thomas.
Standing Forest asked Black Tail. The man reached into the small pouch at his waist and withdrew a blood-stained rag.
Sarah cried out and snatched the tattered cotton from his hand, holding it before her like a prayer book as she dropped to her knees. She pressed the bloody bit to her cheek, weeping.
Brennan cast Thomas an impatient look. Rage flared in Thomas’s gut, but he moved to collect Sarah and guide her from the office.
He helped her cross the yard to her room and sat her on the bed, before wrapping an arm about her narrow, shaking shoulders.
“Th-this is her dress.” She held up the cloth.
He stared down at the tattered blue swatch.
“I made it from one of my old calico skirts, so she’d have something new for the journey.”
She cradled the fabric to her cheek and sobbed.
“Oh, Thomas, my heart is breaking.”
He held her gently and rocked back and forth as her tears wet the front of his shirt.
At last her weeping grew less hysterical and he thought she might hear him.
“Why do you believe him?”
She lifted her head.
“What?”
“He could be lying.”
“But the dress.”
“Only proves he saw her.”
