Mia passed them as she moved toward a door that Analisa assumed led to the kitchen. She gave Analisa one final look before turning her gaze to Hardy. Hate blazed from the black eyes, hatred so fierce that Analisa could feel it. If Hardy noticed the open anger in the young woman’s expression, he gave no sign.
Analisa thought he was finished with his explanation, but he continued speaking once Mia departed. “No, Mrs. de la Vega, you can bet that those renegades don’t plan on comin’ in. Besides, they would have to give up, all their white captives if they did, and they don’t intend to do that. They set big store in having white slaves.”
As his words finally registered, Analisa heard a distant ringing in her ears while a sudden clamminess dampened her palms. The shock of his words forced her to breathe deeply as she tried to stay calm and fight against the light-headedness. Her surroundings slipped away. All she was aware of was Hardy and herself, standing near the double doors of the entry hall.
“White slaves?” Her voice was so weak that he didn’t even hear her utterance. “White slaves?” she asked again, forcing the words out as he opened the door. Cool, refreshing air was carried in on the light, steady breeze. It helped to clear her head. She became conscious of the world around them once more.
He stood in the center of the veranda, surveying the surrounding area, reminding her of a king inspecting his realm. Still unable to speak, she looked out at the trading post next door, the Indian dwellings made from hide and adorned with faded paintings of horses, suns, and childlike stick figures. The tentlike structures were scattered over a wide area, the buffalo grass between them beaten into paths that led from one to another and off in the direction of the river. She wanted to be away from the sight of the dismal figures shuffling along between the dwellings or crouched lifelessly before the low doorways, huddled against the sun and relentless chilly wind.
“Sure. They have at least six whites that I know of, just in Red Dog’s band. Can you imagine how many whites have been forced to live like animals all over the West? Why, it’s a shame. The army ought to be riding them down, if for no other reason than to see that those poor creatures get back to their families.”
Shaken, Analisa looked around for Zach and Kase. She needed to get away from Hardy, from this place, and wrestle with her own thoughts. White slaves hidden all over the territories? There was no reason to believe that Meika and Pieter were part of the renegade band living nearby, she told herself. No reason to hope. Still, she did hope. Hope welled in her heart, choking her, threatening to bring tears of joy to her eyes before she could escape this man.
Zach caught her eye from across the small distance that separated the house from the trading post. He was leaning nonchalantly against the hitching post, his hat pulled down low, shading his face, but somehow she knew he was watching them. Her eyes searched out Kase and found him not far from Zach, playing with two children near his own age. A boy and a girl, from the looks of their clothing, their thin, nearly emaciated arms bare against the wind. Dressed in the woolen suit Caleb had given him, Kase appeared abundantly healthy, almost chubby next to them. She watched as Zach alerted the boy and the two of them approached the house. Close to tears already, she swallowed hard when she saw the hardened scout reach down and take her son’s hand protectively as they neared the horses tied before the wide veranda.
“Thank you for the visit, Mr. Hardy. You have been a kind host.” She refused to extend her hand toward him, and he made no move to touch her again.
“It was my pleasure, Mrs. de la Vega. I hope you’ll call on me again, any time.” He bowed from the waist, a gesture she thought reserved for royalty. “I’m sorry I could not suggest any way for you to help out here. If I think of something, I’ll let you know. Perhaps the next time I’m at Fort Sully, I can pay you a call?”
“Thank you, Mr. Hardy. That would be fine.” Her forced politeness was beginning to nauseate her. Analisa stepped slowly off the porch and moved toward the horses where Zach waited to help her mount. She felt as if she were walking in a dream world. Hold on a little longer, she told herself. You’ve come this far. Zach lifted her by the waist as she stepped up into the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle, then adjusted her skirt modestly.
“I’ll put the boy up in front of me, this time, ma’am.”
Zach’s voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she looked down at his upturned face.
“We’ll make better time,” he explained.
“Thank you, Mr. Elliot.”
“Good day to you, Mrs. de la Vega,” Hardy called from the porch.
“Good day, Mr. Hardy.” And good-bye, she thought as she turned her horse to follow Zach as he headed toward home.
They traveled for at least ten minutes in silence. Zach ignored her while Kase was intent on searching the landscape for any sign of jackrabbits. The wind was increasing, and far off on the western horizon, Analisa saw a storm front gathering as the unpredictable spring weather changed once again.
Her thoughts were jumbled, bouncing back and forth in her mind much the way her insides were being rattled by the movement of the horse beneath her. Her grandiose plan to help Caleb expose Hardy was forgotten, one thought now foremost in her mind: White captives were being held as slaves by the renegades; Pieter and Meika might even now be only a few miles away.
She tried to remember them as she’d last seen them and only recalled the flat, lifeless images in the photograph. Pieter would be thirteen now, and Meika would be a woman full grown, seventeen. Analisa remembered every birthday that had passed, even though her brother and sister were no longer with her. What were they like now? she wondered. Were they still alive? Were they indeed slaves to the Indians who had captured them? Until today she thought she’d finally left the past behind. She held on to her dream of being united with the missing children, but now she knew she would be faced with more than Pieter and Meika as she knew them. What had they been forced to endure? How would she even know them?
“You seem pretty quiet, ma’am. Everything all right?”
She looked across at Zach, surprised to find that she was not alone. “Yes. I am just thinking about all Mr. Hardy told me.”
“Such as?”
“What do you know about white slaves?”
Zach looked incredulous. “He told you about that?”
“What?”
“The white slaves?”
She wondered why the army scout sounded so shocked, not about the fact of the slaves’ existence, but because Hardy had mentioned it to her. News of the white slaves didn’t seem a surprise to Zach.
“He told me the renegades will never come in because they hold so many white slaves. He thinks the army should ride them down in order to free the captives.”
“He thinks so, huh?”
“Yes. What do you think?”
“I think that’s the last thing Hardy wants.”
“He did say that it was a waste of money to keep the Indians on the reservation.”
“Did he have any solutions?”
“Maybe the same one you have, Mr. Elliot. Kill them off.” She wondered if she’d taken leave of her senses, speaking to him this way.
His eye seemed to bore into hers. He spat, and continued to stare at her as they rode on.
“What makes you think I feel that way, ma’am?” His voice was low, angry.
Analisa hesitated. Perhaps she’d let the turmoil of feelings Hardy aroused push her too far. What right did she have to badger Zach?
“Everyone at the fort seems to think you hate Indians as much as Mr. Hardy apparently does.”
“People ain’t always the way they seem, ma’am.”
“So my husband tells me.”
“Well, it’d be best to listen to him.” He stared ahead, lost in thought for a moment before he spoke. “Havin’ the army rescue those whites is the last thing Hardy wants.” He spat again.
Suddenly alert to his words, Analisa gave him her full attention. “Why do you say
that?”
“Well, he’s pretty slick about it, ain’t been caught yet, but I happen to know that he makes damn good money buying white captives and then reselling them to their families.”
“What?”
“Yep. He pays the renegades good money for them, then contacts the families and collects what he calls ‘rewards’ for sending them back. If they ain’t got no family to speak of, well, he can always get a good price for them from the Comanche, who resell them again to the Mexicans. Sometimes he deals direct to Mexico.”
She couldn’t control the shaking in her voice. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t make up fairy tales, ma’am. I ran into Hardy years ago. Nowhere near here, though, and it ain’t likely he remembers me. I was a different man then.”
“Have you told the major?”
“Nope.”
“Why not? Wouldn’t he be able to do something?”
“I suspect the major knows something, but he may be one of Hardy’s men, or maybe, like me, he’s biding his time. A man like Hardy’s got connections. That makes him safe. He’s got the BIA behind him, too, more than likely.”
“But ...” Analisa started to deny his statement. She knew that the BIA wanted to see Hardy caught as badly as Zach did, but to tell him would reveal Caleb’s secret, perhaps put his life in jeopardy.
“Ma’am?”
“Nothing. I don’t understand, is all.” She shook her head, unable to tell him her true feelings.
“I suspect you won’t be makin’ any more trips out to visit the agency, will you, Miz de la Vega?”
“No, Mr. Elliot. I don’t suppose I will.”
“That’s too bad. I’ll miss the dinners aforehand.”
Chapter Fourteen
By the time Analisa, Zach Elliot, and Kase approached the outlying buildings of Fort Sully, gray clouds had gathered and lowered in the sky. The driving wind pushed against them until Analisa’s thick wool sweater provided little comfort against the chill. As if he sensed her discomfort, Zach urged his horse into a gallop, and when her own mount followed suit, she was forced to clutch the horse’s mane. Analisa was sure the animal knew it was really in control.
They neared the row of officers’ houses and passed the doctor’s quarters, then the BOQ, which she’d learned meant Bachelor Officers’ Quarters, the major’s house, and then the Boyntons’, beside her own. Analisa suddenly became aware that the porch of her own small house was covered with boxes, barrels, and crates. The front door was blockaded by the goods stacked around it. Analisa was rendered speechless as she stared at her porch. Was Caleb responsible for all of this?
“Looks to me like you got company, ma’am.”
Zach chuckled, and she followed his gaze, watching in awe as a rotund, rosy-cheeked woman, with a crown of gray braids wrapped about her head and a pipe clamped between her teeth, stepped around the boxes and lifted a suitcase high above another stack before she made her way back inside the house.
“What in the world ... ?”
“Do you want me to go in with you, ma’am? You look sorta surprised.”
Analisa tried to reason it out but found it made no sense. What was an old woman with a wagonload of parcels doing on her porch, in her house? She suspected it all had something to do with Caleb and realized that her life with him would never be boring.
“No, thank you, Mr. Elliot. I will see to this myself. Thank you, too, for taking me out to the agency.” She dismounted alone, her confusion over the woman in the house helping her to ignore the discomfort she felt at the end of the ride.
Zach handed the boy down to her, and Kase bounded toward the house, Analisa hurrying to stop his headlong rush to see what all the boxes meant.
“Dank U wel, Mr. Elliot.” She called out her thanks as she hurried after Kase, who was almost to the door, his head barely visible over the boxes and barrels.
“Kase! Wait,” she commanded, and the boy stopped, although he continued to bounce with excitement.
“Hurry up, Mama. Somebody’s in the house.”
Before Analisa could reach for the doorknob, the portal swung open to reveal the woman she had seen moving about on the porch moments ago. They stood exchanging startled glances until the hearty woman put her hands on her ample hips, shifted the clay pipe from the right to the left side of her mouth, and looked Analisa up and down.
“You must be Caleb’s wife. Leave it to that boy to find a beauty.” She called to someone over her shoulder. “Mrs. Storm! She’s a picture, just like you thought, but you’re in for a surprise.”
Glancing over her own shoulder to see if anyone was passing by, Analisa quickly ushered Kase inside, her hand on his shoulder as she brushed past the stranger. If this woman continued to shout, the entire fort would soon know who Caleb really was.
It seemed the older woman was not the only shock she was to receive, for crossing the parlor to greet her was a dark-haired woman with a glowing expression of affection in her eyes. The woman’s enthusiasm forced Analisa to smile in response. Someone so genuinely happy to see her could not mean any harm.
“You look as if this is all quite a surprise, my dear, and I’m sure it must be. Analisa, isn’t it? I’m Caleb’s stepmother, Ruth Storm. We didn’t mean to intrude on you like this, but we all decided it would be best to come straight to the house and act as if we were expected rather than question the major. I’m not quite sure what Caleb is up to this time, but I know that it’s important to keep silent as to his identity.”
The woman finally paused for a breath, leaving Analisa to stare as she tried to sort out all she’d heard.
“You are Ruth?”
“The same. Caleb has told you about me, hasn’t he?”
Analisa nodded. “Yes. But I imagined that you would be much older.”
“I am much younger than his father was, but I’m still old enough to be Caleb’s mother.”
“Barely,” the gray-haired woman added as a cloud of smoke issued from the pipe and floated on the air about her head.
“Oh, Analisa, I’m sorry. In my excitement I forgot to introduce you to Abigail Oats. Abbie is my cook. She refused to stay behind when I told her my plan to visit you and Caleb. This must be Kase!” Ruth bent down and looked the boy square in the eye. “You are certainly more grown up than I imagined. What a wonderful boy you are!”
The boy smiled up at Ruth, well pleased with her praise.
“What’s in all those boxes?” he asked, staring at Abbie. “And why does that lady smoke a pipe?” The child looked up in awe at the old cook, who stared right back.
“Kase!” Analisa tried to cover the embarrassing situation but didn’t know how to answer the boy.
Abigail Oats spoke up for herself. “Always smoked a pipe, boy, since I was your age, most likely. If you’re real good, I’ll let you try it.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Abbie, don’t tease the child. Just look at his mother’s expression. She’s not used to your teasing.” Ruth turned to Analisa. “About the boxes, I’m afraid I may have overstepped my bounds.” She continued apologetically, “I thought I’d bring out just a few things that might help you set up housekeeping. But, as usual, I became carried away. I think I packed up half the house.”
“I packed up half the house. You gave directions,” Abbie said, and Analisa realized the cook was more of a friend to Ruth than a servant.
“Yes, I gave the directions, and I’m about to give more. Get Analisa a cup of tea, please, Abigail. She looks ready to collapse. Kase, would you like some pie? I’ll bet Abbie has one of Caleb’s favorites wrapped up inside that hat box she’s been guarding all the way from Boston.” Ruth sent the two off to the kitchen.
“Come, my dear.” Ruth led Analisa to the dining table. “We need to talk. Abbie will have the tea here in no time. Would you rather sit in the kitchen near the stove? We haven’t had a chance to light the fire here in the parlor yet, and you look quite chilled.”
Feeling like a guest in her own home, Ana
lisa let Ruth pull out a chair for her before the woman seated herself at the table. Overwhelmed, Analisa couldn’t help admiring the woman’s calm self-assurance and poise. She seemed to have everything well under control without being intrusive. Analisa watched Ruth as she smoothed out her forest-green skirt and straightened the prim white blouse. Caleb’s stepmother perched on the edge of her chair, expecting Analisa to begin the conversation. She could feel Ruth’s calm hazel eyes studying her, assessing her. How much had Caleb told this woman about her and Kase? He’d last seen Ruth in December, before his return from Washington. At that time, Analisa wasn’t even certain that he would be coming back to her. Had he told Ruth the story of their hurried wedding? At a loss, Analisa sat quietly, unsure exactly where to begin.
She finally decided on the most important issue: Caleb’s hidden identity. Ruth must be made aware of the danger her stepson was in. Had she spoken to anyone out of turn and placed Caleb in danger already? Taking a hint from Ruth’s own straightforward manner, Analisa asked the woman directly.
“How much do you know of Caleb’s reason for being here?”
Ruth kept her voice low, following Analisa’s example. “Before he left Boston, he received his orders from General Parker. He told me I could reach him here until I heard differently, and that he would be using the name Don Ricardo Corona de la Vega.”
“You haven’t mentioned his real name to anyone?”
“No, of course not. My dear, I have known Caleb since he was eighteen. I’m quite used to his escapades.”
“Escapades?”
“I’m sorry.” Ruth searched for another word. “His ... adventures.”
“This is hardly an adventure, Mrs. Storm.” Analisa felt herself becoming protective of Caleb’s position. “Caleb’s life is in danger.”
She watched as Ruth smiled at her with understanding.
“Caleb’s life is always in danger, Analisa. It’s the nature of his business, but even if it weren’t, he’d be doing something equally dangerous. He thrives on it.”
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