White Buffalo shook his head. “If I did not fight for this, fight to protect the spirits of the loved ones who have gone before us, I would not be worthy to live. So if I am killed in this fight, it will be a much more honorable death than if I walk away from here and die an old man who remembers he was a coward and did not stand up for his people and their sacred lands.”
Colt nodded. “The last time we parted, we were friends. You said then that it was best that I go while there were still good feelings between us. I wish it were not you here defending this burial ground. It would make it easier for me to do what I have to do.”
White Buffalo handed him the pipe again. “Let us share one more smoke together then. You are still my friend, Colt Travis, but if I see you on the battlefield, I will have to kill you, as you will have to try to do to me.”
A strange ache moved through Colt’s shoulders and chest. He puffed the pipe and handed it to Two Teeth, who only sat listening. “I think the railroad is wrong in this, White Buffalo,” he told the man. “I am totally against it. I respect the sacredness of your burial ground. I am only telling you that there are powers at hand here that all the fighting and bloodshed in the world won’t stop.”
He thought of Sunny again, how some of the decisions she made could affect hundreds of people, sometimes thousands—a go-ahead on this, a price on that, a bribe here to change a law, one there to take over a company. He told himself to stop thinking of her that way, to stop comparing their lives. His Sunny was the sweet, vulnerable, giving woman whose body he had shared on the prairie under the sun and stars. They had decided they could make their love work, and he was not going to let anything get in the way.
“I’m just trying to spare you, White Buffalo, you and many others. Why don’t you let me talk to the railroad people. I’m sure they’d be willing to let you move some of the graves—”
“No! Do not even suggest it! You know the bones of dead ones must never be disturbed, or their spirits will never rest again! If we fight hard enough, the Great White Father will take notice. Maybe he will tell the railroad people they cannot do this!”
Colt rubbed his eyes, wishing he could hit something in his frustration. “White Buffalo, the Great White Father wants this railroad, as much or more than the people building it! He’s not going to do one thing to slow it up. He’ll go along with anything they decide to do, and they have already decided to go through.”
White Buffalo stiffened and slowly nodded. “Then you should not be here, my friend. You should be back there with the soldiers who are coming.”
Colt’s jaw flexed in a sudden urge to weep. “I’m going to have to try to stay out of this one, White Buffalo. I can’t bring myself to fight you. You saved my life once, gave me reason to live again. I’m sorry about all of it, sorry we have to meet like this after all these years. Under other circumstances, I would stay, and we could have a good, long talk.”
“Yes, my friend, I would have liked that.” White Buffalo took the pipe from his brother and raised it. “It is done now. Go back to your white world, Colt Travis. I think perhaps we will not see each other again.”
Colt’s misty eyes betrayed his feelings. “In another time, another place, we could have shared so much,” he told the warrior.
White Buffalo looked away from him. “Go,” he said softly.
Colt hesitated a moment longer, then rose and exited the tipi, realizing each extra moment he stayed could mean his life. He climbed onto Dancer, suddenly feeling weary and burdened. Part of him belonged here, maybe not with the Cheyenne, but with the Indian spirit. If not for certain decisions his father had made, he would still be living in Indian Territory among the Cherokee. Now here he was working for the Union Pacific, in love with a beautiful, rich white woman, yet his skin and his spirit were so close to these very people who were struggling to cling to what was left of their once-vast domain. Did he really belong in Sunny Landers’s life, or did he belong with the Cherokee? Maybe he belonged with neither.
He headed Dancer slowly through the village, not sure if he would be allowed to leave without an arrow in his back. He hated the thought of what was to come, felt sad that he could not have spent more time with White Buffalo.
He rode a little harder as he got farther away, and it struck him that in a way he was saying a final good-bye to the Indian in him. Maybe it was supposed to be this way, slowly leaving behind the old, learning to change a little, just enough to make things work with Sunny. For ten years life had been leading him toward her, teaching him how to let go of things and move on. He could not imagine life now without her in it, no matter what the cost, and it was difficult to think of anything except seeing her again.
Still, for now he didn’t have much choice. Lieutenant Tracer and his men would arrive anytime now to rout out White Buffalo and his people. The thought brought a tight feeling to his gut. He didn’t want any part of this if he could possibly stay out of it.
***
The train rumbled through the dark, heading for Chicago. Sunny thought how the mournful sound of its whistle sounded on the night winds, reflecting the black mourning in her heart. Every mile the train covered was another mile farther away from Colt, from the Nebraska plains, from the only real happiness she had known. She had contemplated writing Colt a letter of explanation, something that sounded logical, something that would let him know her decision had nothing to do with how much she loved him; but she was afraid that to write him too soon and let him know what she was doing would bring him running, and she didn’t want that to happen. It was best he didn’t know at all until it was done and there would be no changing it. Maybe then she would write the letter.
It seemed so cruel to do it this way, knowing he was waiting for her to come back. He would find out through the newspapers or gossip at the work camp. How would he react when he read about the wedding of Sunny Landers and Blaine O’Brien? Each time she thought of it, the horrible black pain engulfed her, and she felt as though someone had died. In a way someone had died—a part of herself—the Sunny Landers who belonged to the wild land, and to Colt Travis.
Perhaps she had been a fool after all to think that she could share her life with Colt. If only she had never allowed it all to happen. Before it had been a fantasy she thought could never be real; but the reality had turned out to be so much more glorious and fulfilling than the fantasy. Colt had awakened things in her she did not know existed, but now they must be put to sleep again. Vince had made it all ugly and wrong. Now another man would touch her, but she would never belong to him, never feel the wanton desire and delightful ecstasy she had shared with Colt.
It seemed that someone with her money and power should be so free, free to do as she wished, love whomever she wanted to love. But her wealth had become her prison. The truth about her mother and father was the key that locked the door, and Vincent stood guard. Colt was the one who was free, and he had nothing at all—nothing but his pride, his sureness, his goodness, his love of the land and the animals. He didn’t need any more than that.
The door to her private car opened, and Blaine came inside. He had arrived the morning after Sunny’s argument with Vince, wanting to surprise her by arriving sooner than expected. Sunny had hardly had time to recover from the ugly things Vince had told her, or time to contemplate how she would bear leaving Colt forever. Blaine had spent a day going over the Indian problem with Canary and the others, after which he and Sunny, Vince, Stuart, and Vi had left for Chicago.
Blaine was overjoyed that Sunny wanted to move the wedding date closer. He couldn’t wait to get back to Chicago and get things in motion. He had attached his own private car to her train, and Vince had done the same. They were all going back together, Vince riding with Blaine while Stuart and Vi and their children used Vince’s car. Others were left in charge of the Omaha offices, and Vi had taken leave from her work for the new hospital, so they all could go
back together for the grand wedding.
“Hello, darling,” Blaine said, beaming. He walked over to pour himself a drink from a bottle of brandy that had been left on a nearby table from a small party they had shared earlier. Sunny shivered at the happy look on his face. Her life had become a maze of lies and make-believe now. She never wanted Colt or Blaine to know about her mother, or anyone else who didn’t already know. She would have to lie to Colt about why she was marrying Blaine, to keep him from all the cruel gossip, and to make sure he wasn’t killed. She had to lie to Blaine about loving him, pretend that she was happy. She had even lied to Vi about why she had made her decision, telling the woman that Colt had changed and had a new love interest and had gently told her that the old feelings he once had for her were gone. She suspected Vi didn’t believe a word of it.
No one knew about her conversation with Vince, and they never would. As long as she never had to look into Colt’s eyes again, she knew she could keep it all to herself. Colt was the only one who might be able to force it out of her; but even if he did, she didn’t like to think of the look that she’d see on his face when she told him what her mother had been. She would rather he hated her than for him to look at her that way.
And hate me he will, she thought. The thought brought the sick pain back to her stomach with such force that she grasped it with her hand.
“Sunny! Are you sick? I swear you haven’t acted right ever since I arrived.” Blaine swallowed the brandy and came over to kneel in front of her. “This should be the happiest time of your life, but you certainly haven’t acted like it. You smile, but I see no joy in your eyes.” He grasped her hands. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts again.” His eyes turned to pleading. “Don’t make me wait any longer, Sunny. For months I’ve thought of nothing but coming back here to marry you. Things are going well in the campaign, and when we get to New York, you can redecorate that big castle of a home I rattle around in any way you want.” He squeezed her hands. “God, it’s going to be nice to have you there and have you put a woman’s touch to it.” He leaned up and kissed her cheek. “What’s wrong, Sunny? Have you been ill?”
Oh, how she wished she could love him; but she knew that she never had. He would never bring out the passion in her that Colt had. “A little,” she answered. There. Another lie. “I’m just worried about that Indian trouble out at the construction site. I don’t feel right leaving before finding out what’s going to happen.” What if Colt gets hurt and I’m not there for him!
Blaine just grinned. “Sunny, you’re just one of many. For heaven’s sake, Canary and his men are there, and if there’s any more trouble, Durant himself will go out. They all know we can’t be concerned with all that right now. Besides, there are soldiers out there and plenty of men. The thing will get settled and by the time we’re back from Europe, the U.P. will be well into Wyoming. Next year will be the elections, and the year after that we’ll take a train all the way to Utah for the joining of the rails. That’s where they expect to meet, if Strobridge and his boys can get moving. I guess they had a devil of a time up in those mountains last winter.”
He rose, keeping hold of her hands and pulling her up with him. “Sunny, relax and enjoy! Women are going to read about you and wish they were as beautiful, wish they led the life of a princess like you do, that they could have as grand a wedding. And it will get better once we’re married. Just wait until you see Europe, the castles, the great cathedrals. You’ll love France. I can’t wait for you to meet my mother and sister! And Africa—the elephants and giraffes and all sorts of wild things. So much of Africa reminds me of the West, only bigger and more beautiful.” He pulled her into his arms. “You’ll love it, Sunny. You’ll have the time of your life!”
She rested against him, praying that somehow she could let him consummate their marriage and make him think she was enjoying it. Perhaps Africa was bigger and more beautiful than the American West, but she doubted it would lift her heart to see it. It would only remind her of Colt. She would see him there, riding free.
“You do love me, don’t you, Blaine?” She looked up at him. “I need you to love me, to be kind, patient.”
“Of course I love you. What kind of a question is that?” He smiled, bending down to meet her lips, parting them gently with his tongue. How she wanted the kiss to be sweet and wonderful and stimulating the way Colt’s kisses were. But she felt nothing. She could only pretend. She told herself that once they were married, once she had made vows to him and allowed him his husbandly privileges, it would change, especially once they were in Europe. There she would be so far away from the Sunny she had left back on the prairie, the Sunny who had lost a stocking out there…had lost so much more than that. Out there she had become a woman. No matter what she did now, that could not be changed. She would forever belong to someone else, in spite of her vows. She was expected to play a certain role, and she would do it, not to protect herself anymore, but to protect the man she truly loved, and to protect what little honor was left to her parents’ memory.
Blaine kissed her neck, deciding her hesitancy was just a fear of the unknown. He would make a woman of her soon enough, and their marriage would be splattered all over the front pages of the New York newspapers—great campaign publicity. He thought how it was too bad about little Elsie Brown, the young girl who did his laundering and mending. He had caught her looks, knew she had been totally enamored with him; and during his long months apart from Sunny he had had a delightful affair with her. He wondered if the girl actually thought he might marry her. How stupid of her to let herself get pregnant. He had shipped her off to a special home in New England for wayward girls, with strict orders that the baby be taken from her once it was born and put in an orphanage so she couldn’t come running back with it claiming it was his. Besides, how did he know that it was? Girls of her class usually went down for just about any man who smiled at them and had two dollars in his pocket. She had been a pleasant release for his needs while he campaigned and waited for his marriage to Sunny. Now, at last, the famous Sunny Landers would belong to him! He didn’t doubt he would win votes just as much because of her as for himself.
“I’d better get out of here before I’m tempted to carry you back to your private bedroom,” he told her. He pressed her close and whirled her around before setting her on her feet just as Vi opened the door to come inside. The woman looked embarrassed and started to leave. “No, it’s all right,” Blaine told her. He looked at Sunny. “I was just leaving.” He leaned down and kissed her again. “We’ll be in Chicago by morning.”
She managed a smile and nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
He gave her a wink and left, and Vi closed the door, then turned to face Sunny, who turned away.
“What are you doing, Sunny? I tried to talk to you once when you first got back, but you fed me a line of garbage. I want the truth. What happened with you and Colt? I know you love him and he loves you, and I say there is no reason why you can’t be together. Why are you going ahead with this marriage?”
“I told you. Colt has found someone else, and he said he didn’t think it could work anyway. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced he was right. We can’t recapture what we felt years ago, Vi. We’ve both grown and changed. I belong with someone like Blaine. It’s that simple.”
“I don’t think it is. I think I should write to Colt—”
“No!” Sunny whirled. “I’ve never been angry with you, Vi, but I will be if you dare to interfere in this! I’ll be married and on my way to Europe soon, and I don’t want you doing something that will bring Colt running, do you hear?”
“Bring him running? I thought you said you and he agreed this was the way it should be—that he had found someone else.”
Sunny’s eyes teared. “Help me do this, Vi. Please! If you never do another thing for me, leave this alone. Believe me, it’s for Colt’s
sake. It’s for everyone’s sake! Just leave it alone! I’m begging you.” She shivered, and a tear ran down her cheek. “You’ve got to trust me on this, Vi. Please, please don’t contact Colt. I’ll write him myself, after the wedding.”
Vi shook her head. “I don’t know what’s happened, but I do know that you and Colt didn’t just shake hands and say good-bye out there. When I heard you had gone out alone, I had a pretty good idea why. Now you’re marrying Blaine, and I don’t see any happiness in your eyes. Does Vince have something to do with this? It seems awfully strange, him being in Omaha when you got back and all.”
“It doesn’t matter, Vi. I’ve made my decision. It’s better that one or two people get hurt than a whole lot of people.” I can’t let the ugly rumor get to your children about their grandfather, she thought. And I can’t let Colt be murdered, not my precious Colt. “Blaine and I have been friends for a long time. He’ll be good to me. Please just be here for me when I get back and don’t make all of this more difficult than it already is. That’s what you’ll be doing if you get involved.”
Vi breathed deeply with pity. “I think you’re wrong, but I suppose it’s your decision, Sunny. You know I’m here when you need me.”
Sunny reached out and embraced her, clinging tightly to the woman and again longing to have had a real mother when she was growing up. What kind of mother would Lucille Madison have been? All she had had to cling to until now was the thought that she was a beautiful, pure, loving woman who would have been a wonderful mother if she had not died. She had at least been proud of the memory. Now she did not even have that.
***
Colt watched the intense fighting from a distance, torn between duty to the railroad and the army to which he had once belonged, and loyalty to his own race. In other skirmishes with Indians he had had no problem defending himself and the railroad, but this time White Buffalo was involved. This time it was more personal. The man had saved his life.
Thunder on the Plains Page 45
