by Jenna Kernan
“The blood?”
“Whose blood?”
Sarah bit her lower lip, holding it between her teeth as she stared up at him.
“You’re just saying this to give me hope. Thomas, if she’s gone there is nothing for me.”
He hesitated and then spoke his heart. “I’m still here.”
Her hopeless expression remained unchanged. “She is the tie that binds us. What do we have without her?”
“Each other.”
Sarah shook her head. “I can’t go on if they have killed my child.”
He shook her shoulders and she gasped in surprise.
“You don’t know she’s gone. All you’ve got is the word of an enemy who could very well have failed to collect her and is now willing to do whatever it takes to get his wives back.”
“But she might be gone. Thomas, we might never know.”
“Might? You gonna quit on ‘might’?”
Her shoulders shook as the sobs took her again. Thomas rose.
“I’ll find my girl or real proof before I’ll lay down and quit.”
He stood beside the bed, knowing if he stayed he would say something else he’d regret. He reached the door before she called him back.
“I thought Lucie might heal what has passed between us, that we might become a true family. But if she is gone—”
“Stop saying that. Did it ever occur to you that we have to work out our own troubles? It isn’t up to our daughter to do it for us.”
Sarah collapsed on the bed. “What if she’s gone, Thomas?”
He crossed the room in angry strides. He didn’t like this helpless woman before him. He wanted his Sarah back.
“What if she’s not? What if she’s out there on the prairie counting on her ma?”
Sarah sat up at this, but a moment later her shoulders slumped once more. “I don’t think I have the strength to find her dead.”
She frightened him now. What if this broke her? He tried to think of what might bring her back from despair. Comfort was his first impulse, but that hadn’t done it. Another idea struck him. Sarah didn’t need solace. She needed a poke with a stick. She needed to rekindle the stubborn force that had driven her to seek him out in the first place.
“Stay here, then, and wring your hands. I’ll go north without you.”
She rose to her feet.
He repressed a smile of satisfaction. “Trader leaves tomorrow. But you stay here. You can make me a quilt.”
Sarah glanced at Lucie’s quilt, now complete with batting and backing, missing only the finishing binding. Then she scowled at Thomas.
Good, she’s fighting.
“You will not leave me this time.”
She was back, furious and frustrating and oh, so beautiful. Her breathing came in sharp blasts through flared nostrils and her color was high. Damn, he wanted to kiss her.
“You could get yourself killed,” he jeered, fanning the flames and then remembering it was a real danger.
“Better that than stay here and die by inches.”
The poke in the eye had worked too well. His stomach clenched and he faced the possibility of leading her into disaster.
“I’ll follow you.”
He saw Hyatt before him, hands on hips, uttering the same threat. God help him but he faced the devil’s choice once more—either he could lead her into danger or leave her here to follow alone.
Chapter Twenty
Thomas crossed the yard and paused to see the sentries questioning a boy who stood beside a painted horse with an Indian bridle. He was dressed in only a loincloth and buckskin shirt.
Pierre Roubideaux was there, as well.
Thomas approached, realizing the boy was younger than he’d first thought, perhaps only fifteen. His lanky arms and legs gave him height, but little muscle. His skin was burnt to the color of the tanned leather he wore and he spoke to the trader with a voice that occasionally cracked. Thomas stepped closer and saw the piercing blue eyes. The sun had lightened his brown hair nearly blonde at his crown.
“He says he was adopted by the Sioux after his capture. He don’t recall how to speak English, though. He didn’t so much escape as run away after he accidentally shot a tribe member while hunting. Hard luck that the boy he killed was the chief’s youngest son. He figured he’d better skedaddle.”
“Where has he come from?” asked Thomas.
“Up north somewhere, or so he says,” replied Roubideaux.
“Got blue eyes,” said one of the sentries. “He ain’t no half-breed.”
“Best take him to the commander,” said his partner.
“Ask him if he’s seen any white captives, women or girls,” said Thomas.
Roubideaux spoke to the boy, while Thomas sweated out the reply.
The trader nodded to Thomas. “He’s seen a few.”
“One named Lucie West?”
The trader and boy spoke again before the trader turned back to Thomas.
“He didn’t talk to them. Him being adopted into the tribe, he didn’t want to remind them that he was white.”
Thomas’s heart pounded. The boy might have seen Lucie.
“Take him to Major Brennan,” said the sentry.
The trader nodded and led the way.
Thomas headed to the mess hall and found most of the company eating their noon meal. He banged a tin cup on the table for attention. The men quieted.
“We got a white boy, just come in. He ran away from the Sioux. He might have seen Lucie. I need photos of your daughters and sweethearts. I want to see if he can pick Lucie out of a bunch.”
Several of the men rose from their seats. Within a few minutes he had twelve images of white women. He headed for Brennan’s office, but paused at Sarah’s room.
He hesitated. If the boy had not seen Lucie or had witnessed her death, Sarah would be crushed. But Sarah had said from the start not to leave her out.
A thought struck him. What gave him the right to order her to stay at the fort? She wasn’t his wife—never would be, if he kept acting like she was his property. He had the money, that was true, and that gave him some power. He also felt responsible for her safety. But how would he feel if the situation were reversed?
A chill swept through him as he understood her fury. He’d be damned if he would allow himself to be left behind. He would follow that trader to hell and back to find Lucie, and Sarah would do the same. She wouldn’t stay in the fort no matter what he said. That left him with no choice.
He knocked.
She called him in and he found her just closing her saddlebags.
“I got some news.”
She stared at him in watchful silence.
“A boy just came in. He might have seen Lucie.”
Sarah headed for the door. He grabbed her arm to halt her and explained his plan. Together, they marched to Brennan’s offices for the second time that day.
The boy now sat before Brennan’s desk. The major sighed heavily at their appearance.
“I thought you were leaving.”
Pierre Roubideaux snorted. “Tomorrow.”
“He doesn’t know if he’s seen your daughter. He never spoke to any other captive,” explained Brennan.
Thomas put the stack of photos on the desk, his daughter’s image there among the rest. He paused before withdrawing, afraid of what the boy would tell them. He might very well confirm Black Tail’s story that Lucie had been murdered. Thomas clenched his fist and stepped back.
“Some of the men provided me with photos. Lucie’s picture is there, as well. Please ask the boy to have a look at them.”
Brennan nodded and the trader took over, speaking to the boy as he laid out the images upon the desk as if setting out a hand of poker. Thirteen photos of girls and young women. Thomas tried not to stare too hard at the one he had carried over the plains.
The boy leaned forward and studied the lot. Sarah moved closer to Thomas, her fist pressed to her mouth. The muscles of his shoulders tensed as
the boy lifted a finger. It hovered a moment and then descended on the photo of Lucie West.
Sarah gave a cry of pure joy and threw herself into Thomas’s arms. He squeezed her close, breathing a sigh of relief.
The trader and boy spoke and then he delivered the news.
“He says he saw this one about ten days ago. He says she tried to speak to him, but the other boys made fun of him, so he ran away.”
“Is she well?” asked Sarah.
“She’s under the protection of a warrior named Eagle Dancer. The boy says he plans to marry your gal.”
“Marry? She’s only a girl.”
Roubideaux shrugged.
“Where is she?” asked Thomas.
The boy and trader spoke again.
“With the Yankton Sioux—the Sweetwater branch. He is of the Bitterroot tribe, also Yankton. Last saw her when they were traveling away from the soldiers. Been moving a lot ’cause of the troops engaging them. He reckons they’d be somewheres in the sacred Black Hills.”
“The what?”
“What you call the Badlands,” said Roubideaux.
“I can’t send my troops that far north,” said Brennan. “Plus that’s still Indian territory. I’ve no jurisdiction.”
Sarah’s shoulders sank in relief. “Thank God.”
“Well, someone must be up there, if this boy has seen soldiers,” said Thomas.
“Sixth Iowa Volunteer Cavalry under General Sully,” said Brennan. “Out of Fort Rice.”
“Objective?” asked Thomas.
Brennan met his gaze and held it fast. “Engage hostiles.”
Thomas’s heart beat hard. They had to reach Lucie before Sully did. He turned to the trader. “Have you been to the Black Hills?”
“Know them well.”
Sarah looked at the boy who now lifted one photo after another. Was he searching for a face familiar to his own heart?
Suddenly he seemed the loneliest child in the world. Surely his family had been murdered when he was captured. He was now at the mercy of Christian charity. Who would take care of him?
Her gaze never left him as she spoke. “What will happen to the boy?”
Brennan puffed up like a grouse as he mulled his answer. “We’ll look for his family.”
“That will take months and may yield no harvest. I’d like to offer to take charge of him while you conduct your search.”
Brennan’s condescending smile was cold. “Mrs. West, I understand your need to replace what is lost. But I think the boy would be better served if I fostered him with one of our married couples.”
This comment rendered Sarah speechless. Had he said “replace”? To think she would grasp the first orphaned child she found as a substitute for her cherished girl was ludicrous. Wasn’t it?
Indignation stiffened her spine and at last she found her tongue. “I am a mother and fully capable of taking charge of him.”
“He’s half-wild, speaks no English and needs a woman who can raise him up with good Christian morals.”
Now he questioned her morals?
But she knew.
Brennan’s gaze traveled meaningfully to Thomas and then back to her. Her face flushed as the insinuation vibrated in the air. News of Thomas’s early morning retreat from her bedroom had reached the top man. Immorality was reason enough to turn her down and insult her.
How smug he looked.
Thomas crossed the invisible line of authority, cornering the commander behind his desk. “I ought to punch you in the nose.”
“You do and I’ll see you spend the winter in the stockade.” Brennan clung to his authoritative tone, but his eyes told another story.
“Be worth it, though.” Thomas grabbed the major by his lapel and cocked his fist. Brennan closed his eyes and braced.
“Corporal Abby!” Brennan called out at the same moment Sarah shouted, “Thomas!”
Thomas paused to glance at her and she shook her head vehemently.
He faltered, giving her a beseeching look, seeking her permission to strike in her defense. She withheld it. He sighed and turned his attention to Brennan, who had opened one eye to see what had caused the delay.
Corporal Abby crept forward, seeming none too eager to step between them.
“Apologize,” growled Thomas.
“I could have you both cast out.”
“But you’ll apologize for the insult first.”
Thomas released him and Brennan cleared his throat.
“Mrs. West, I meant no disrespect. But as commander, you must allow me to choose whom I see fit.”
She inclined her head in acceptance and Thomas moved to her side.
Abby stepped before them, blocking their departure.
“Oh, let them go,” snapped Brennan.
At the evening meal, Sarah sat with a clear view of Mrs. Douglas, Mrs. Corbit and Mrs. Fairfield trying to teach the boy how to hold a fork. They had cut his long hair so he more resembled a white boy than an Indian. He still retained his moccasins, though he wore a faded red cotton shirt and overly large wool trousers that billowed about him like an untrimmed sail. The trousers seemed to be causing a great deal of scratching in areas that made Mrs. Fairfield grasp his hand and shake her head.
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” said Thomas.
She started. “What?”
“I’m sorry Brennan said those things. He’s a damn fool.”
She held his gaze, willing herself not to cry. “Maybe he’s right. Perhaps I don’t have the moral fiber to raise a child. That might be why God took my child from me.”
Thomas’s brow sank low over his eyes. “That’s nonsense!”
“Is it? The whole camp knows we slept together. If I were a good Christian woman, I would not have let my lust sway me, again.”
Her words did nothing to allay his scowl, but instead made his expression darken another degree.
“Is that all it was to you—lust?”
She dropped her gaze. She didn’t know what it was, only that it was a mistake. “I’m a single woman and despite the fact that I know what is right, it seems I cannot keep from getting a reputation. Not then, not now.” She gripped her coffee mug, letting the heat radiate through her palm. “I wasn’t trying to trick you either night, Thomas. Truly, I never was.”
She peeked up at him and found him staring, but not glowering.
“Then what did happen?”
She wanted to say she loved him and that she wanted to be with him. But she feared taking the risk. Here in the crowded room, she could not bear another humiliation.
“What do you think it was?” she asked.
“We have a spark between us. It’s always there, even now.” His eyes held the glow of desire. Sarah’s cheeks heated under his gaze. “I thought time and distance had killed it, but it’s stronger now. Sometimes it’s so strong that it blazes like a grease fire and neither one of us is tough enough to clamp a lid on it.”
She nodded at the truth of this.
He glanced at her uneaten dinner and half-empty cup. “You done?”
She nodded.
“Let’s go, then.”
The cool evening breeze hurried them along. The dark sky glistened with stars. Sarah huddled in her shawl as Thomas guided her across the yard to her room, where they sat on a bench, shrouded in shadows.
He sat only a foot away, but she could not see his expression in the darkness.
“Thomas? Remember when you said that we had to resolve our difficulties?”
“Yeah.”
“How do we do that?”
She heard him draw a breath and sigh. “I guess we just sort things out between us.”
“Then I want you to tell me about Hyatt.”
She met only silence.
“Please, Thomas.”
“Sarah, I’m going to tell you. But give me a little more time.”
Time. Fourteen years had not been enough, but she would give him what he asked for.
“All right then.” She turned
the conversation to the trader. “I know you have funded this expedition and I am beyond grateful. But—”
“You aren’t staying put.”
“No.”
He snorted. “Figured.”
“I’m sorry.”
She thought he nodded.
His voice sounded weary. “I’d be as mad as a hornet if you ordered me to stay put. I didn’t think of that until now. Plus, I guess I have no right to tell you to stay or go, seein’ as how I never made you an honorable proposal.”
Her words were barely a whisper. “You did once.”
The resignation rang hollow in his voice. It was as if he could see what would happen next but was unable to prevent it. “I only wanted to keep you safe.”
“I know.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Eagle Dancer kept Lucie away from his people for three nights. The day following the Antler Dropping Moon, his brother-in-law Blue Elk appeared.
“What news, brother?” asked Eagle Dancer, holding Blue Elk’s horse’s reins as the man slid to the ground.
“No captives have been killed.”
Lucie barely had time to heave a sigh of relief before Blue Elk continued.
“Our braves have traveled far south to attack any whites they could find.”
Eagle Dancer nodded at this while Lucie trembled, imagining the warriors swooping down on other families. She prayed no wagon trains had been trapped at the foothills of the Rockies by the snows.
The three of them journeyed back to their tribe, where Blue Elk found his harried wife tending their teething and feverish child. Her temper was short as she scowled at Lucie and then turned to her brother.
“I’m tired of waiting for this worthless one to do a day’s work, Brother. I have seen bugs make better progress gnawing through wood.”
Blue Elk exhaled loudly through his nose and addressed Eagle Dancer. “She gathered the women to complete your lodge. I told her that we need our food stores for the winter and not to feed other men’s wives.”
Minnow sat at her mother’s feet, wailing and reaching. Shadow scooped up her daughter, brushing the tears from her cheeks and then turning to Eagle Dancer.
Lucie had always known this day would come, but she still hoped that she could avoid what was sure to follow.
