Thunder on the Plains

by Rosanne Bittner

  Still, to remain uninvolved was not easy. Men were being killed in that valley between rocky bluffs, the haunting burial ground just beyond them. It seemed strangely symbolic. Dust rolled, the sound of gunfire filled the air, horses whinnied. Part of him wanted to go and defend Sunny’s railroad, fight alongside soldiers as he had in the war. Another part of him wanted to turn on those very soldiers and join White Buffalo in one last effort at preserving something precious and sacred.

  He had explained to the lieutenant that White Buffalo would accept nothing but a route around the burial ground. Lieutenant Tracer had sent a message back by wire to Omaha, and the reply had come. “The railroad goes through. Do what you have to do.”

  It was all the lieutenant needed. He and his men had attacked at dawn the second day after they arrived, charging forward, more men circling around the village. White Buffalo and his warriors were ready. They exacted a surprising toll on the soldiers. Colt nearly groaned at just staying back and doing nothing, and he wished there could be two of him. The soldiers retreated and now were attacking again in a battle that lasted for over an hour. Through the dust and mayhem he noticed one soldier caught under a fallen horse. Dancer whinnied and pranced, sensing his master’s anxiety.

  Colt could hold back no longer. He galloped Dancer down the hill, and in minutes he charged directly into the melee, riding up to the soldier who was pinned under his horse, a young man of perhaps seventeen. Colt dismounted and hurried to the boy’s side, pushing at the dead horse with all his strength.

  “Get me out! Get me out!” the young man screamed, his chest bleeding.

  Horses thundered past them, men shooting and yelping. Colt gritted his teeth and pushed again. “Try harder to pull yourself,” he shouted to the soldier. The young man put his free leg against the horse’s back and used it to push himself away from the animal when Colt managed to lift it just enough that he could get free. Colt fell panting and sweating against the dead horse for a moment. He turned to the young soldier. “I’ll get you to safety,” he shouted, looking around for Dancer.

  Just then a warrior rode down on him, screaming, his face painted, a tomahawk raised. Colt rose up and grabbed him by the bone breastplate he wore, ripping him from his horse. At the same time he felt the tomahawk glance off him at the right side of his back. Both men went down, but Colt stayed down longer because of his wound. Before he could rise he felt another blow to the back of his right thigh. There was no time to think about the pain or wonder how bad the wound might be. It didn’t matter now if he had to fight the very Indians he had once befriended. It mattered only that he save himself. He had to live—for Sunny.

  He rolled onto his back, knew the heavily painted warrior would come at him again. He found his pistol and managed to get it out just as the Indian raised his arm to bury the tomahawk in his skull. It was only then they recognized each other. White Buffalo and Colt Travis felt suddenly frozen in time, all sound around them dying away.

  “If it is to be, then let it be you,” White Buffalo finally said. “I will have died honorably.”

  Colt managed to scoot backward, shaking his head. “Go on, White Buffalo! Leave me!” The man shook his head and let out a war cry, coming at him with the tomahawk. Colt had no choice but to shoot. A hole opened up in White Buffalo’s chest, and blood oozed out over the breastplate. The man went to his knees, staring at Colt, then fell across Colt’s legs.

  With all the strength he could muster, Colt managed to pull free of him, just then realizing the young soldier he had saved was no place around. He tried to stand, but it was impossible, and only then did he see that the back of his right legging was soaked with blood. He felt himself growing weaker and light-headed as he turned to crawl closer to White Buffalo. He rolled the man onto his back, a sick feeling welling up from his stomach. “White Buffalo,” he muttered. “My old friend.” He lay across the man’s bloody chest as though to protect him. It was then that he noticed White Buffalo was wearing a gold watch and chain around his neck. It was the last thing Colt remembered.

  Chapter 26

  Tod Russell hurried into Sunny’s office with the messages, knowing she had been waiting for one in particular. “I got word back, Sunny,” her faithful secretary told her. After his first two years of employment with her, he had finally been able to bring himself to begin calling her Sunny again.

  Sunny looked up from her desk, deep concern in her blue eyes. “You kept your promise not to tell Vince or Blaine?”

  Tod thought the request odd, but his loyalty to Sunny Landers came first and everyone else second. “You know that I do whatever you ask.”

  Sunny thought about how he had changed since that first day she came to the office as his “boss” after her father died. He had been ready to quit. Now he was loyal and dependable, and most important, discreet. She had already received word about the heated battle over the burial ground, ten soldiers killed, several more wounded. The hated Cheyenne leader, White Buffalo was dead, killed by the scout Colt Travis. But there had been no word on Colt himself. “Is he all right?” she asked.

  She could tell by the look on Tod’s face that Colt was not all right at all. “I’m afraid the wire says he was badly hurt. They shipped him back to Omaha so he could get better care.”

  Sunny felt the life draining out of her. She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. Colt! He needed her, and she couldn’t be with him. “What’s the other message?”

  “It’s, uh, it’s from your fiancé. He says not to forget about the theater tonight. The mayor and his wife will be joining you. And your seamstress sent a messenger to tell you she’s ready for another fitting for your wedding dress. She wants to know when you’ll be by, and she says the sooner the better, now that the wedding is only ten days away.”

  “Yes, yes.” Sunny rubbed her eyes. “I’ll get back to her before the end of the day.” She looked at Tod, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. He knew they were for Colt Travis—that savage-looking man he had met several years ago when he came to Sunny’s office. What was this concern she had for the man? Tod’s head swam with questions, but he knew he dared not ask. “I want to know more about Colt,” she told him. “Wire back and find out just how badly hurt he is—if he’s expected to live.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The man turned and left, and Sunny rose, feeling strangely old and weary. Colt, she thought. My poor, sweet Colt. I should be there to hold you, to nurse you. She had been back in Chicago for over a week now. Two days ago they had first received word about the Indian battle. Now she knew for certain what had happened to Colt, and she felt crazy with the need to be with him. She could perhaps go see him herself, could make up some excuse about needing to go back to Omaha to finish more railroad business before the wedding, but there was not enough time. Vince or Blaine might discover her real reason for going, and if she saw Colt again, touched him, how would she be able to bring herself home again? She would be right back in the awful predicament she was trying to avoid, putting Colt in danger.

  Up until now she had always found the strength and courage to fight Vince. She could handle anything he tried to do to her; but when it came to threatening Colt’s intense pride, let alone his very life, that was another story. She could not bear the thought of what Colt might think of her if he knew about her mother and grandmother. Was that why it had been so easy for her to let him ravish her body so freely? For her it had been nothing but a wonderful way to show her love for the only man she had ever wanted; but the truth might change everything, might make Colt look at her differently. She even saw herself differently, hardly able to look into her own eyes in the mirror.

  Vince had taken the most beautiful, wonderful experience of her life and made it into something vulgar and sinful. Wasn’t that how any man would look at it? For all she knew, Colt already thought less of her after he had had time to think about what they had done, how she had throw
n herself at him while engaged to someone else. She already knew from the way some men had looked at her over the years how easily they could condemn a woman’s behavior, how easily a woman could be labeled as bad and promiscuous. It was she who had gone to Colt, who had offered herself to him on a silver platter, so willingly, so brazenly.

  She had surely been so wrong, and now she would have to live with her secret, live with a man she did not love; Colt would somehow have to get over the hurt. He would learn to love again, would find someone to treat him the way he deserved to be treated, give him children…help him forget. But the thought of him being with another woman made her stomach burn like fire.

  Oh, how she wanted to go to him! But she realized she dared not see him or touch him again. It would only make him aware of what was happening, and she didn’t want him to know until it was too late to do anything. She hurried to her door, in such agony that it was difficult to breathe. She opened it and looked out at Tod. “Find out more about Colt as soon as possible. And please send for Vi, will you? I need her to do something for me.” Tod nodded, and she closed the door again. If she couldn’t be with Colt, then she would send her love some other way, find some way to ease the emotional pain he would suffer when he discovered she had decided to marry Blaine. Colt liked Vi, and Vi was very good at comforting people.

  She took deep breaths to keep from falling into a fit of sobbing. She walked back to the desk, feeling so filled with heartache that everything hurt. She rubbed her lower back as she eased herself back into her chair, then took out pen and paper. She would write Colt a letter—try to come up with an explanation that wouldn’t destroy his love for her and his faith in that love, yet something that would convince him it was over. Vi would deliver it if she asked her to. Sunny could tell Stuart that she wanted Vi and Stuart to go and visit the wounded as a gesture of goodwill from the U.P. Stuart probably had some idea of how she felt about Colt, but he didn’t know the extent of it, not like Vi did. Vi could visit Colt, give him some comfort. By the time he was recovered enough to try to do anything about her marriage to Blaine, if indeed he would want to, she would be Blaine’s wife, and she and Blaine would be on their way to Europe.

  Her hand shook as she put pen to paper, and she had to wait a moment, breathing deeply again for control. “God help me,” she whispered. She was sure that in her whole life, before now and whatever lay in her future, this would be the hardest, most painful thing she would ever do.

  ***

  Someone drew back the curtains, and Billie looked up from where she sat near Colt’s bed. A rather plain-faced woman came closer, elegantly dressed, a woman of obvious wealth. Billie rose to face her, and the woman looked her over questioningly. “Can I help you?” Billie asked.

  The woman moved closer, terrible sorrow filling her eyes when she looked down at Colt, his eyes closed, his face showing the pain he suffered. She looked back at Billie. “I’m Violet Landers. Who are you?”

  Billie’s eyes widened in surprise. Landers! “I’m Billie White. Colt and I are…kind of old friends.” She smiled nervously, realizing this woman knew exactly what she was. “I heard he’d been hurt bad and they brought him back here,” she explained. “I, uh, I work…here in Omaha…and other places.” She looked away, bending over Colt and touching his hair. “Anyway, I know Colt doesn’t have family or anything—nobody who really cares all that much about him. So I thought I’d come and sit with him, figured somebody ought to.” She looked back at Violet Landers and was surprised at the kindness in her eyes. “You’re related to Sunny Landers, I guess?”

  Vi took another chair near the bed. “Sunny is my husband’s sister. She sent me here.”

  Billie scowled. “Why didn’t she come herself? Colt keeps calling her name whenever he’s conscious.”

  Vi closed her eyes and sighed, the words “dear God” exiting her lips. She seemed to be praying quietly for a moment before looking at Billie again. “How long have you known him?”

  Billie self-consciously pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear, wishing she knew how to dress as elegantly as Vi Landers. She had made good money following the railroad crews, and her own dress had been expensive; yet now it seemed too gaudy. She pulled a shawl closer around herself to help hide the low-cut bodice. She realized the kind of wealth that was represented in the woman who sat across the bed from her, and she was surprised at the fact that Violet Landers spoke to her at all. “I don’t know. About four years I guess. I met him in Omaha not long after his wife was killed. He was a pretty lonely man.” She reddened a little. “I didn’t see him again till last winter.”

  Vi frowned. “Colt wasn’t in Omaha last winter. He was out scouting for the railroad.”

  Billie reddened even more. “He, uh, he got stranded in a bad snowstorm; had to come into the camp town to keep from freezing to death.”

  Vi looked down at her own gloved hands that clutched the purse on her lap. Everyone knew what the camp towns were like, the kind of people who ran them. “I see.”

  “No. I don’t think you do,” Billie spoke up defensively. “Look, lady, it’s obvious what I do for a living, but sometimes I can be a good friend, too. I’ll tell you something. I don’t know how in hell Colt got hooked up with Miss Sunny Landers, but he’s got it bad for her. I haven’t seen him since last February, but I figure something must have happened between him and her, because he’s been calling for her, and now you’re here. Colt’s a good man. I know one when I see one. If this Miss Landers thinks she can fool with his heart and treat him like he’s nothing just because she’s got money and he doesn’t, I can tell you Colt’s worth a hundred of her kind. I’m saying it straight out, even if she is your sister-in-law!”

  Vi opened her purse, taking out an envelope. “It isn’t like you think,” she told Billie. She met her eyes again, and Billie felt a little sorry for what she had said. The woman looked ready to burst into tears. “You have no idea what life is like for Sunny. And I highly doubt anyone except me is aware of just how far she will go for someone she loves. She has been pulled in a hundred directions all her life, and the responsibilities she carries on her shoulders are awfully heavy for such a young woman. She’s a good person, Billie. Her wealth has never affected her inner sweetness.” She quickly took a handkerchief from her handbag and dabbed at a tear. “Sunny loves Colt, and I think they—” She hesitated. “It’s up to Colt if he wants to tell you what happened between them. I only know something happened recently to convince Sunny it simply can’t be. She won’t tell me what it is, but I can tell you that she’s sick over it. She’s decided to go ahead and marry the man she’s been engaged to all these months. She asked me to come here and give this letter to Colt.” She handed it across the bed. “Can I trust you not to read it yourself, to save it and give it to him when he’s well enough to read it?”

  Billie reached out and took the letter. “I’m no snoop. A man wants to tell me something, fine. Otherwise I don’t ask. And I don’t go looking through his personal things.”

  No, Vi thought. You only sleep with them. She wanted to hate the woman, but at least she had cared enough to come and sit with Colt. If she weren’t here, there would be no one. She understood men enough to know Colt certainly had a right to pay a visit to women like this one when he was a perfectly free man, before there had been anything between him and Sunny. She rose and leaned closer, touching his face. “Colt?” She frowned. “Dear God, he’s so hot.”

  Colt’s face contorted from pain, and he managed only a groan.

  “He’s running a fever—infection. That’s what the doctors are worried about. He took two wounds from a tomahawk trying to save some soldier caught under his horse. There’s one bad wound across his right shoulder in the back, but the worst one is on the back of his right thigh. I guess he lost an awful lot of blood. They say it takes a long time to build your blood back up again. The fever and loss of blood are why he keep
s losing consciousness.”

  “Poor thing,” Vi said softly. “And after all that suffering at Andersonville. He was just getting back to his old self.” She studied the broad shoulders and powerful look to him. Yes, he was certainly a far cry from the man she had seen in Chicago after the war. Sunny was right about how this land was good for him. She could not help wondering if he and Sunny had made love, and she was sure she knew the answer. What had happened since then she could not imagine. Sunny seemed afraid of something. She had said it was Colt who wanted it to end, that he had found someone else. Billie was certainly not the kind of woman a man like Colt would choose to love and settle with. And if it was some other woman, where was she?

  Sunny was lying. Colt had been calling for her, which meant there was no one else. She had been tempted to read Sunny’s letter herself, but it was sealed, and she had a feeling that whatever it said, it was not the truth. She would never forget the look on Sunny’s face when she asked her to bring the letter—the look more of someone headed for a hanging than a marriage.

  “Sunny,” Colt whispered then.

  Vi took his hand. “I’m here, Colt,” she lied, hoping the words would help him recover. She felt him squeeze her hand lightly before going limp again. She straightened, squeezing his hand in return before letting go of it and wiping her eyes again. She looked at Billie. “Maybe it would help if you answered as though you were Sunny when he calls for her,” she told the woman. “Just until he’s better. I would appreciate it, and I know Sunny would too.”

  “I don’t know,” Billie answered, leaning over and touching his arm. “I don’t like fooling him like that. If she’s never coming, he might as well know it. Maybe just for a couple of days, while he’s too far gone to realize what’s happening. I guess I can always tell him he dreamed it.”