So Wide the Sky

by Elizabeth Grayson

  McGarrity nodded and came to his feet. "Let me say, gentlemen, how pleased we are that you have come to visit here at Fort Carr. It is pleasant to share a meal and have an opportunity to come to know you better. Perhaps gatherings such as this will help keep the peace between our two peoples. If there is anything we can do to encourage understanding between us, you have only to ask."

  Everyone applauded McGarrity's words, though not with as much enthusiasm as they would news of a campaign against the redskins.

  Once Jalbert had completed the translation, Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse rose to give his answer. "Indeed, we are pleased by this show of hospitality. I, too, believe that coming together helps us know each other's ways and each other's hearts," the Sioux chief began.

  "The whites have shown us great generosity in the past. You have given us flour and utensils and cloth. You have given us tools and seeds. You have given us mirrors and bells and whiskey. But what you have not given us in a very long time is powder for our guns and lead for shot. Though we have great need of them, you have not allowed the licensed traders to sell them to us in their trading posts."

  Drew leaned forward in his chair. So this was why the bastard had come.

  "During the long cold winter, it did not matter that we had so little ammunition with which to hunt for food. We tracked the deer and antelope through the snow and killed them with our arrows. But soon many of my tribe will gather to hunt buffalo. As you know, the buffalo are the center of our lives. They give us meat and skin, horn and bones, hooves and sinew—everything our families need to survive. And in order to kill enough buffalo, we need new supplies of lead and gunpowder."

  Drew had to admire the redskin's gall. He'd come to the fort to beg for bullets—perhaps the very bullets that would enable this chief and his braves to make war on the whites.

  Once the Sioux had powder and ammunition, they would ride down on the stage stations and isolated ranches. They would harass the wood and hay parties sent out from the forts, and attack the gangs of men laying track for the Union Pacific. Just how witless did this Indian think they were to believe that all he wanted powder for was a buffalo hunt?

  Drew saw that others were as affronted as he. Lieutenant Anderson's mouth hung open in surprise. Captain Parker braced forward in his chair. Even Sylvie Noonan's fan had halted in mid-swish.

  "Surely you do not mean to deny us what we need to live," Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse went on, looking from person to person around the table as Jalbert translated. "Surely you see that no matter how generous you have been with other goods, by denying us what we need to kill the buffalo you deny us the life's blood of our tribe."

  McGarrity shoved to his feet. "Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse must know I do not wish to see Sioux families go hungry. If it were in my power to allow you to trade for ammunition, I would ask Mr. Jessup to leave the table and open his store. But word has come down from General Crook in Omaha that in the Department of the Platte no ammunition can be sold to Indians. I cannot countermand the general's order. I cannot give you shot or gunpowder."

  Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse faced his host, standing taller than McGarrity in his feathered headdress. "Is there no one to whom I can speak, no one who has the authority to change this general's order?"

  McGarrity paused. "Perhaps Colonel Palmer at Fort Laramie would be willing to listen to your concerns," he suggested.

  Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse took a moment to consider the major's words. "Very well, then. If you will grant me an escort to Fort Laramie so they know I come in peace, I will go and speak to this Colonel Palmer."

  "Indeed, that's something I can do," McGarrity agreed. "Will dawn tomorrow be convenient for your departure?"

  Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse inclined his head and rose to go. "I would thank you for your hospitality to me and my companions. This has been a most enlightening evening."

  In a swirl of fringe and bobbing feathers, the Indians took their leave.

  McGarrity motioned for silence the moment the door closed behind them. "Escort your women home," he ordered, "and get back here as soon as you can. This gives us an opportunity I never thought we'd have, and we need to prepare."

  Amid the scrape of chairs and the stutter of footsteps, the officers and their wives rose to go. Orderlies swept away the remains of the meal. The bachelor officers took out maps and spread them across the tables.

  Drew steered Cassie out the door, and they made the short walk to their cabin in silence. Only after Lila had left the house did Drew turn to Cassie.

  "So, Cassandra, besides your facility for languages, what other things have you been keeping from me?"

  Cassie turned to him, her mouth drawn tight. "You made it very clear you had no interest in what happened to me while I was a captive or what I learned while I was with the Indians. Out of respect for your wishes, I've held my peace." She drew the shawl from around her shoulders and stood with it bundled against her chest. "But since you've asked, I speak Kiowa and Cheyenne because I was forced to learn them by my captors. I learned Sioux and hand-talk so I could survive in the Powder River camps."

  "And where did you learn German and French?"

  "I learned a bit of each from the trading and hunting parties passing through. I thought that if I could talk to them, I might be able to convince one of those men to buy me back from either my Kiowa master or my Cheyenne husband."

  "And just what did you offer them in exchange for that favor?" Drew knew perfectly well the only thing a woman captive had to barter.

  "Does it matter what I offered? None of them were willing to pay my price. None of those men were willing to help me leave the Indian camps." She drew a long, ragged breath, her color high. "And now that I've returned, I can't imagine why I thought I belonged here."

  Drew flinched as if she'd struck him. Of course this was where she belonged. His Cassie was white.

  "What you said you wanted was a home, and I've done my best to give you that," he shouted in a voice that shook. "You said you wanted to be my wife, and I married you. What you agreed to do in exchange was care for my child. But if that's proved so distasteful, perhaps I can arrange for you to go with Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse when he leaves tomorrow."

  Before either of them could say another word, Meggie appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  "Papa?" she mewed, sloe-eyed and rumpled with sleep. "Papa, why are you yelling at Cassie?"

  Drew tamped down his temper and went to scoop his daughter up in his arms. "We were having words, Meggie. Words over something that has nothing at all to do with you."

  "You said you were going to send Cassie away. You won't do that, will you? I need her here with me."

  "Of course I won't send Cassie away," Drew assured his daughter, resenting the promise the moment it left his lips. "But I need you to stay with Cassie now," he said, handing Meggie to his wife. "I need to get back to headquarters."

  "How come you're always going to headquarters?" he heard Meggie call after him as he shut the cabin door.

  Drew stopped on the porch for a moment to collect himself. Though most of his anger was spent, it had left a bitter residue. Sharp, brittle pieces of disillusionment, shards of betrayal that settled way down deep. A simmering resentment.

  The Cassie who'd faced him tonight wasn't the Cassie he wanted as his wife. He wanted the girl he'd loved nine years ago. He wanted the woman he made love to in the dark. He wanted someone quiet and compliant and grateful—especially after all he'd done to make a place for her.

  He'd tried to understand what she'd been through. He knew it had been horrible, but he'd survived things, too. He'd survived them and gone on. Cassie had to do that. She needed to stop doing what was wrong for her and start doing what was right. She had to stop thinking like an Indian if she was going to make a life with him.

  Drew blew a breath and scrubbed a hand across his face. He had more important things to think about than this, soldierly things, things he felt qualified to address. He'd deal with Cassie when he got home.


  He entered the headquarters building not two minutes later and found most of the officers already gathered around the table. The air was filmed with cigar smoke. An uncorked bottle of whiskey stood well within reach. Drew poured a tot into a glass and lit a cigar.

  "Gentlemen," McGarrity began, calling the meeting to order. "Tonight Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse has given us a rare opportunity. In asking for ammunition and in being willing to ride as far as Fort Laramie in search of it, he is absenting himself from the villages up north. He has also provided us with a reason to send a wagonload of supplies and a cadre of men to those Powder River camps."

  "But why should we give the hostiles more supplies?" Noonan asked. "Haven't we given them subsidies enough?"

  McGarrity shook his head. "It's not what we give them, but the opportunity this gives us," the major illuminated. "It gives us a chance to see things up north for ourselves. To assess the mood of the tribes and the number of warriors they can field."

  "You mean for our men to be spies," one of the young lieutenants observed.

  "Not spies, precisely," McGarrity went on. "We won't make any bones about who we are, but the mission will be one of reconnaissance. We're going to observe as much in those villages as we can."

  "It's bound to be dangerous work," someone said. "We won't want to provoke an incident."

  "That's why I'm detailing Lieutenant Anderson and a dozen men to escort the wagon."

  The men shifted, puffed at their cigars, and frowned down at the map. Anderson was not a popular choice.

  McGarrity ignored the discontent. "Choose steady men, Lieutenant," he advised. "Men you trust to behave themselves. One misstep, and some young buck will be sewing your scalps to his war shirt. Jalbert will accompany you. He'll keep you out of trouble, if he can.

  "Now, Captain Reynolds." McGarrity's tone changed as he turned to Drew. "I want you to accompany Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse to Fort Laramie."

  Drew stiffened, suddenly furious down to his boot soles.

  Some damn lily-livered lieutenant was riding into the heart of the Powder River country, while Drew was supposed to nursemaid Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse.

  "Colonel Palmer is no more likely to give the chief ammunition than we are," McGarrity went on, "but you must assure him that Colonel Palmer will telegraph General Crook and convince him to relent. Jalbert has recommended a translator to accompany you, and your Sergeant O'Hearn is familiar with hand talk, too."

  Drew clamped down hard on his temper. He'd undertaken unpleasant duty before and knew what he must do. "Yes sir " he acknowledged without letting his feelings show.

  "As for the rest of us," McGarrity went on, "we'll sit tight and wait this out."

  "There haven't been orders, then?" Parker asked. McGarrity scowled and shook his head. "Preliminary orders provided for a full-scale campaign against the Powder River encampments under Colonel Gibbon, but that action has been postponed."

  The men's faces fell in disappointment. "Have you had an explanation for the delay?" Lieutenant Braiden asked.

  "Interference from Washington," the major admitted. "The faction in Congress sympathetic to the Indians has managed to get another peace commission appointed. Their specific objective is a treaty with the Sioux."

  "Even after the Fetterman massacre, sir?"

  "Blame the Bureau of Indian Affairs." In spite of his obvious effort to control his irritation, McGarrity shoved to his feet and started to pace. "If it were up to those damned bureaucrats, they'd give Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse and Red Cloud all the guns and ammunition they want.

  "At least all the do-gooders have done so far is force us to postpone the campaign. Still, we have to be ready when orders finally come. That means placating Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse and getting the best information we can. Are there any further questions?"

  No one spoke. The officers adjourned.

  Drew left headquarters with all the rest. He wasn't happy about his assignment, but had been a soldier long enough to take what duty he'd been given. Still, he cursed his abominable luck all the way home.

  * * *

  Cassie heard Drew slam into the house and rose from where she'd been sitting in the rocking chair. He bolted past her as if she were invisible, took down the pitcher, and poured himself a drink. He swallowed down the whiskey, then turned to her.

  "I've been assigned to escort Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse to Fort Laramie," he announced. "We're leaving tomorrow."

  She could hear in his voice that he wasn't pleased. "Do you know how long you'll be gone?"

  Drew shrugged. "At least a week."

  She nodded, a strange relief assailing her. "They aren't going to give Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse the ammunition he wants, are they?"

  "No."

  "Then why are they sending him off like this? Why are they making him think there's a chance he'll get it?"

  Drew paced away from her, his shoulders hunched. "I don't know why this damn army does anything. I don't know why we went through that charade tonight. Or why the hell we aren't riding out to attack the Powder River encampments."

  She could hear the ragged edge to his anger and was relieved that it wasn't directed at her.

  "I have a long trip ahead of me. I'm going to bed." He crossed the room to put the bottle and the pitcher away. "Are you coming, Cassie?"

  Though it sounded like a command, she shook her head. She didn't want to lie with Drew tonight, not after the way they'd argued and he'd threatened to send her away. She didn't want Drew's touch to stir her the way it did. She didn't want to hold him and touch him and pretend for him.

  He stared at her for one long moment and spun away. She hoped he didn't wake Meggie, now that she'd finally gotten her back to sleep.

  Cass sat down in the rocking chair near the hearth and waited for the house to go dark and still. When it was, she slipped outside. She only meant to go as far as the porch. As far as the road. As far as the river.

  She was panting when she reached the fringe of trees along the bank. She was trembling with a need for silence, space, air.

  She sucked in great lungsful of it—deep, sweet mouthfuls of coolness and night. She shivered, grateful she had been able to escape for a little while.

  When she could breathe again, when the thundering of her heart had died away, she paced through the saw grass that switched and rustled in the wind. She stalked along the edge of the river and watched the water flow past her, going fast and far away. She almost wished she was going with it.

  She tried not to think about Drew, but there wasn't any help for it. He was in the center of this turmoil with her, this swirl of present and past, of who they were and who they'd been. He was as much a part of what bound her as he was a part of what made her want to run away.

  She loved him. She had always loved him, and she wanted to find a way to be with him. She needed the security, the link to the past, the place in the world Drew gave her. She just wasn't sure how to have that without losing herself.

  Meggie made staying with Drew necessary. Cass adored the child's endless questions, her sticky-faced kisses, and her baby laugh. She lived for Meggie's moments of unexpected wisdom and wide-eyed discovery. She cherished holding Meggie against her heart, rocking her and crooning to her and keeping her safe. And she would lose Meggie forever if Drew sent her away.

  Cassie blinked back the flood of sudden tears and tried to plan. She had to find a way to stay with Drew. Surely she could agree with him instead of arguing, allow Drew to guide her as other husbands guided their wives. She must try to be that other Cassie, the woman she might have been if their dreams hadn't turned to dust nine years ago.

  She dashed the tears from the corners of her eyes and fought for calm. She'd resolved what she must do, now she had to find the strength to do it. But tonight she felt so fragile, so small and alone. How could she go back and close herself up in that cabin? How could she go back and contrive to betray everything she'd come to be?

  A voice came to her out of the dark. "Cassandra
?"

  She heard a rustle in the grass and spun around. A man was coming toward her down the bank. He was a big man, broad through the shoulders and chest, looking tall as a giant as he half-stepped down the slope.

  "Cassandra?"

  Her heart lodged hard against her throat. "Drew?" she whispered, terrified that he had come to drag her back.

  "No, it's Hunter, Hunter Jalbert."

  The breath went out of her so suddenly she almost laughed. "Hunter?"

  "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

  He loomed over her, barely more than a silhouette, and she felt her breathing slow. Hunter was the one person in the world who might understand what she was feeling.

  "I needed to hear the wind and see the sky," she told him.

  She sensed more than saw the smile that grazed one corner of his mouth.

  "When I lived with the Cheyenne," she went on, "I would lie in my blankets and listen to the night. I could hear the rattle of the grass and feel the pulse of the earth beneath me."

  Hunter nodded and curled one hand around her elbow. He steered her toward a log midway up the bank, then lowered himself to the grass beside her. They sat as friends, united by the silence.

  As they did, coolness crept up from the river. Moonlight caught and shimmered in the current. The scent of earth and night and growing things drifted to them on the freshening breeze. Cassie let the peace seep into her one cell at a time, felt the silence ooze into her flesh. She closed her eyes and let the strength collect inside her.

  "Here in the quiet of the night it seems so clear to me," she whispered.

  "What seems so clear?" His voice was a soft rumbling in his chest, as deep and dark as the night itself.

  "Who I should be. What I should do."

  She heard him shift on the grass to look at her. "And what is that?"

  "A white woman who knows the rules and never breaks them."

  He was silent for a long, long time. "And what is the alternative?" he finally asked her.

  Tears sprang to her eyes again and diluted her voice when she spoke. "To be alone."