by Sharon Ihle
The tension vanished from Jacob's body. He sucked in a breath of cool air, unaware he'd stopped breathing. "This doesn't bother me, Barney," he said quietly. "I just want to see her."
"That's right big of you, Stoltz. I'm sure Dominique will appreciate that much. As for the rest—"
Jacob raised his brow. "The rest?"
"I—" Barney stared at his friend, studied his big thick body, and sighed. Even though Jacob appeared gaunt and weaker than usual, he still looked to be strong enough to snap a man of his own build like a toothpick. Someone else would have to explain to the big German that the sweet gal he loved carried a half-breed baby in her womb, the child of a savage. But it would have to be someone he wouldn't want to hurt, a woman, perhaps. Feeling more than a little cowardly, but unable to do anything else, Barney said, "I believe I'd best let the missus explain the rest."
Outside the house, while Jacob tried to make sense of Barney's puzzle, a buggy rounded the corner and made its way to Officers' Row. Riding behind the driver on the bench seat, Dominique leaned in close to Hazel, trying to hear what she had to say.
"... getting too big for discretion. Besides, next month the snow will start falling, and you'll have to stop going up to the scouts' quarters anyway. Tsk, tsk, all this running around in your condition is highly improper.''
"What?" Dominique asked. "I didn't hear everything you said." Straining against the sudden gusty wind, she cocked her head. That was when she noticed two strange horses tied at the rail.
"Looks as if you have company," she shouted to Hazel. "Come over to my place later, and we'll talk about this improper business." Dominique's words stuck in her throat and her heart seized up as she stared at the horses. "Peaches?" she said in a strangled whisper. "And ... Sampi?"
"What?" Hazel shouted back. "What are you talking about?"
But Dominique focused only on the horses, heard only the sound of her own heartbeat hammering away in her throat. "Stop," she screamed at the driver. "Stop this instant."
The startled soldier reined in his team, but before the buggy came to a halt, one of his passengers leapt over the side of the rig and ran on ahead of him.
"Dominique," Hazel shrieked from the bench. "My Lord, what can you be thinking of in your condition? Dominique?"
But she was beyond the sound of Hazel's voice, past the point of considering her body or its limitations. Dominique flew to the mare's side and buried her fingers in the long black mane. "Oh, mon Dieu," she said in half-sob. "It is you, my Peaches."
She glanced at the big stallion, swaying as a wave of dizziness swept over her, and choked out, "And Sampi, too. My God, it's really Sampi." Jacob's here, her mind whispered. Jacob? But how? Where?
She clutched at her throat, unable to call out his name for fear the hope would evaporate. What if it was true? What if Jacob was waiting just inside the door?
"Jacob?" she cried in a muffled sob. "Oh, Jacob, please be in there." Then, forcing her stricken limbs to move, Dominique grabbed at the hem of her skirts and bounded up the stairs two at a time. Throwing her shoulder against the wood, she turned the knob and crashed through the door in the same instant.
The noise startled Barney and his guest. Turning toward the sound, both men gasped.
"Jacob," she managed in a constricted sob. "Oh, God, it is you."
"Dominique," he whispered.
Jacob covered the distance between them in two long strides. Then, faster than he could blink back an unexpected tear, he gathered her into his arms.
"Oh, Jacob," she cried against his neck, her own tears flowing like the Missouri in May. "You're alive. You're alive!"
"Yes" was the best Jacob could manage as his warrior's armor began to crack and peel. Behind his eyes, something hot pulsated, demanding release, threatening to expose him as a man whose heart now ruled his head. Unable to stem the burning tide, unwilling to allow anyone to witness this ultimate lack of control, Jacob pushed Dominique's bonnet to the back of her head and buried his face in her hair.
They were entwined as one, their bodies fused so tightly it was difficult to tell where one started and the other left off, when Hazel burst into the room.
"Oh," she said with a gasp, stumbling onto the sight. "Oh, my, Barney. What's going on here?"
"Come here, sweetheart," he managed, his own tears at high tide.
Guessing at, but not believing the identity of the man holding Dominique, Hazel kept her gaze fastened on the pair as she slowly made her way to her husband. "Is that who I think it is?" she asked in a whisper as Barney put his arm around her shoulders.
"Yep." He nodded, still too choked up for intelligible speech.
"Oh, but, Barney, this is highly improper, terribly indiscreet. I must insist that you—"
"Hazel," he said, cutting her off, "just be quiet and give 'em a minute."
And because her husband rarely told her to do anything, Hazel glanced up at him, biting her lip, then looked back to the overt display of affection. Dominique and Jacob were swaying in each other's arms, whispering mindless words against a backdrop of happy sobs.
When Jacob finally felt in control again, became able to patch up the cracks in his armor, however temporary the repair work might be, he slid his hands up either side of Dominique's head and pushed her away from him. "Let me look at you, wi witko," he whispered for her ears alone.
Swallowing a sob, Dominique wiped at her tears, but they continued to fall as he untied the ribbon at her throat and tossed her bonnet aside.
Struggling once again to chill that burning sensation behind his eyes, Jacob removed the pins from her hair, then drew his fingers through the burnished gold strands. Pointing to her damp cheeks, he grinned and scolded, "Stop that at once. You know I do not like it."
Laughing and crying all at once, Dominique let her tears fall even harder. "Oh, Jacob," she managed just before she collapsed against his chest again. "Oh, how I've missed you."
Glancing over the top of Dominique's head, Jacob saw that Barney's wife had joined him. He gave the couple a warm smile, then noticed the suspicious expression in Hazel's eyes, the knowing look of a highly perceptive woman. He released Dominique and urged her to step back.
Her tears more of a light spring rain now, Dominique looked up at Jacob and smiled. "Welcome home, Private. What took you so long?"
Keeping the Woodhouses in view, he smiled back. "It is a very long story. Do you really want to hear it all now?''
"I want to know everything, every tiny little detail." Dominique’s vision finally cleared and she got her first good look at the man she loved. "Jacob. What's happened to you? You look as if ... as if you've been—"
"Looks like hell, don't he?" Barney supplied.
"Thanks again," Jacob shot toward his friend. He glanced back at Dominique, at the concern in her moist brown eyes, and shrugged. "It is nothing. I fell off my horse."
"Oh, Jacob," she whispered, her eyes again filling with tears. But this time, when she moved back toward the comfort of his arms, he sidestepped her, taking her hand instead.
Aware of the tension and disapproval radiating from across the room, Jacob said, "Mrs. Woodhouse, hello. It's good to see you again."
"Jacob," she said, her mouth tight. "Nice to see you, too. Why don't we all take a seat and try to sort through this in a more comfortable fashion?"
Dominique glanced at Jacob, took a deep breath, then said, "I suppose she's right. Let me hang up my cloak first." As she slowly walked back to the entry, a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. Dominique whipped off her coat and hung it on the rack, exposing her shapeless gray silk and wool tattersall frock. Then, hiding her triumphant expression from Barney and Hazel, she turned sideways and draped her hands across her swollen belly.
"Dominique?" Jacob gasped, unable to believe his eyes. "You are with child?"
Still trying to hide her expression from Hazel, Dominique lowered her head in a suitably shameful posture and said, "Yes, I am, Jacob. The baby is due in four months.
"
"But how can that be?" he bellowed, crossing the room, no longer interested in anyone's opinion but his own. "Dominique," he said, gripping her shoulders. "How can this be?"
Caught off guard, frightened by what she saw in Jacob's eyes, hoping the message he sent was an act, a way to keep the others from knowing his true identity, Dominique was beyond speech.
"Private," Hazel said as she started toward them, "don't be so quick to judge. She has been through a lot."
"Sweetheart," Barney sliced in as he took Hazel by the arm. "Why don't we give Dominique and Jacob a few minutes to themselves? I believe this conversation should be held in private."
"But, Barney, this is highly irregular, terribly improper."
"Darling," he warned, "I think it's time we took our nightly walk around the compound, don't you?"
Alarmed by her husband's aggressive behavior, but warmed by it as well, Hazel looked to Dominique. "Will you be all right, dear?"
"Yes," she said, finding her voice. "Please don't worry about me. Barney's right. I think we need a moment alone."
Jacob's intense gaze never left Dominique as the older couple slipped into their coats and made their departure. When the door closed and they were truly alone, his expression didn't change, didn't soften. Still he stared at her with a mixture of anger and disbelief.
"Jacob," she said softly, her alarm growing. "Why are you looking at me like that? You don't think, I mean, surely you must realize this is your baby."
"Of course I do," he said, slamming his fist into the palm of his hand, as angry with himself as he was at her.
Confused, ready to burst into tears again, she said, "Then why are you yelling at me? Why are you so angry?"
"Because you did not do as I told you. Because you did not seek out the herbs my people know about that would have prevented ... this."
"But, Jacob," she said, still perplexed, but not as alarmed, "this, as you put it, is our baby, the best of you and me. And I did get those herbs after our first night together." She laughed, adding, "But I'm afraid taking them then was a little like closing the barn door after the horses got out—don't you think?"
"I see nothing funny here," he said, his expression defensive, desolate somehow.
"What's wrong, mon amour? I don't see why are you so angry. Don't you know this baby is the only thing that's kept me going? I thought you had died at the Little Bighorn."
"Oh, wi witko," he said as he pulled her into his arms, "I am not angry with you. It is my own deadly seed that angers me so."
Dominique pushed away from him. "I don't understand what you're talking about. What is it you're trying to say to me?"
Jacob closed his eyes, thinking back to long ago, then pulled her close again. "I am trying to say something that I should have told you before now, but didn't because I thought I could prevent this." He pointed at her belly. "It is the story of Lame Fawn, my Lakota wife."
"Your wife?" she said, nearly strangling on the word.
"Many years before you," he whispered, sliding the backs of his fingers across her cheek.
"And so?" she said, her voice the barest of whispers.
"Look," he explained, bringing her hand up in front of her face, then pressing his palm against hers. "See how big I am? See how small and frail you are? Lame Fawn also thought to have my child, but when her time came, the baby had grown so large, she could not expel it."
"Oh," Dominique sighed, her heart numb. "Lame Fawn died giving birth?"
Jacob nodded. "She and the child."
Dominique rested her head against his chest, gauging both his and her own feelings, choosing her words with care. She finally lifted her head, then held his hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry for the pain you must have suffered when you lost them, and for the anguish you're obviously feeling even now."
"I have long since ceased to feel their loss. The anguish I feel now is for you. If I should lose you in the same way, lose you for any reason, the pain I'll suffer will never go away. I cannot lose you, Dominique. I will not take the chance."
"But, Jacob," she said with a soft laugh, "you and I don't have any choice now. Look at me."
He glanced at her round belly and shrugged. "There must be some way to relieve you of this burden, something that will not put your life in danger,"
"There is," she said quietly. "It's called childbirth, and it's going to happen in February." Before he could argue, Dominique began running her lips along the hills and valleys of his knuckles, kissing him, soothing him.
Then she nipped at the back of his hand with her teeth. “You're going to have to do a lot more than get me in the family way to lose me, soldier," she said, giving him a reassuring wink as she backed away.
Spreading her arms, she slowly circled, commenting, "Look at me, Jacob. I'm no frail little flower. I'm strong and healthy, and the doctor says my hips are just made for having babies. Why don't you just trust me, Jacob? I know I can do this."
"But, Dom—"
"I mean it," she cut in, gliding back into his arms. "You kept asking me to trust you, to put my faith in you, and I did. I did everything you asked, believed you when you said you'd do all you could to stop that awful war and save my family. Now it's your turn to trust in me."
Her words triggered another memory, and suddenly he couldn't wait to explain. "I want you to know about your uncle and his brothers. I did try to save them."
"Not now, Jacob. Please not now. If I didn't believe you had done everything you could to save them, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you." She rose up on tiptoe and fit her mouth to his in a brief kiss. "Please, we've both been through so much. Let's have no more talk of death and pain today. We have so much to celebrate, so much of life to experience. Can't we just enjoy each other and rejoice in the fact that we've found each other again?"
In spite of his misgivings, Jacob smiled, then cupped her face in his hands. "My woman has the wisdom of three old chiefs."
"And she has love enough for her husband to be fifty of his wives. Hold me, Jacob. I've missed you so."
He crushed her to him, his heart bursting with love, and whispered in her ear, "Where do you sleep, wi witko? Do you stay here with Barney and Hazel?"
She shook her head against his chest. "I live in the small house next door."
"Then let us go there now and celebrate our reunion without benefit of all these clothes."
Dominique laughed and pulled out of his arms. "I wish we could, husband dear, but we're not in your Hunkpapa camp now. As far as everyone around here is concerned, I'm a single lady and I carry the bastard of a sex-crazed savage. I'm afraid that until we're properly married, I'll have to sleep alone."
"Oh, really?" he said, his mind working to find a way around this policy.
"Really," she answered back, looking for a solution to the same problem.
"Then let us step outside now, announce our intentions to marry and be done with it."
Again she laughed. "Would that it were that simple, Jacob, but I'm afraid it's not. Before we can be married, we'll either have to wait for a preacher to come here or go to Bismarck and look one up. That will take a couple of days, at the very least."
"I see," he said, still looking for a solution. Then suddenly his sapphire-blue eyes lit up and a lusty grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Raising his brow, he asked, "This house next door—you say you live there alone?"
"I do." She nodded, pretty sure they'd arrived at the same conclusion.
"This may be a good thing," he said advancing on her. Jacob slid his big hand around her neck. "And what would you do," he asked suggestively as he began to rub his thumb up and down, caressing the length of her throat, "if a half-naked savage should appear outside your window after you retire this evening?"
Dominique's breathing accelerated at his touch. Goose bumps sprang up all over her body, inside as well as out.
"I would probably open my window," she said in a breathless whisper, "to see what was going on."
"And if this savage should come inside your house and lie down on your bed?" he added, his mouth watering at the thought.
"I would go to him as a friend." Dominique closed her eyes and shivered as spurts of desire raced throughout her body. "I would try to help him in any way I could, perhaps give him some English lessons."
"English?" Jacob growled, his voice thick with emotion. "Still you think to give me English lessons?"
"I don't recall you complaining the last time I tried to instruct you," she said with a lazy seduction in her voice.
The sudden image of Dominique standing nude above him sent shudders throughout Jacob's body, melting cords of muscle here, hardening others with an agonizing stiffness there.
