Sunflower

by Jill Marie Landis

“Of course not.” The major’s green eyes flashed above his thick auburn mustache. He brushed his hat against his thigh as he spoke, the brim curled into his palm. “I’ll admit there was something I didn’t like about the man. He’s always whining about a lack of supplies and monies.” He turned to Ruth, and his voice was apologetic as he explained. “I know there’s no excuse for my ignorance of Hardy’s crimes, but I’ve only been stationed here a few months myself. There’s so much to attend to that I’m afraid Hardy was low on my list of priorities.”

  Ruth looked up at him in understanding. The man’s gaze returned to Caleb.

  “You realize I have the power to commandeer a detail of men if need be,” Caleb was saying. “But I trust that, if what you say about your innocence is true, you’ll be more than willing to cooperate?”

  Offended by the slur on his character, Williamson blushed nearly as dark as his hair. “If what I say is true?” He took a step toward Caleb. “Listen, Storm, or whatever your name is, no one calls me a liar. Especially someone who’s been parading around as something he’s not for months now.” He made a grab for the open front of Caleb’s buckskin. Zach stood away from the doorway, ready to move if need be. Analisa watched from just inside the bedroom, afraid of Caleb’s temper, tired enough to drop, and wishing this was all over. She never thought she’d see violence in her own home. Before she could utter a protest, she heard Caleb speak. His voice was barely above a whisper, but deadly as he stared Williamson down.

  “Take your hand off me.”

  For a moment Analisa was afraid that neither of them would back down as they stood like a pair of fighting cocks, staring eye to eye. Ruth was dwarfed beside them, but she reached up to touch Frank Williamson’s sleeve.

  Suddenly the commander of Fort Sully smiled, then winked at Ruth.

  “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?” The tension eased and he laughed. “Anybody who had me as fooled thoroughly as you did would know more than his share of fighting tricks.” He slapped Caleb on the shoulder and then asked, “Do you know what a bumbling idiot I thought you were? I couldn’t figure out how a man like de la Vega ever won such a beautiful wife.” He smiled at Analisa as she returned to the room, the large packet in her hand. “Now I know.”

  “Here are the papers, Major.” She handed them over and moved to stand beside Caleb.

  After a cursory glance at the material, Williamson spoke. “Everything seems to be in order. Let me know how many men you need, when you need them, and all the details. I plan on riding with you.”

  “So do I.” Zach’s gruff voice carried across the room. For the first time Caleb and Williamson acknowledged the scout’s presence.

  Caleb turned to question him. “Do you know Hardy personally, Zach? Did you have any knowledge of his dealings?” Caleb glanced at him sharply, awaiting an answer.

  “Let’s just say I have a score to settle with him,” Zach said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Caleb stared, waiting for Zach to elaborate

  Finally the scout spoke again. “I’ve seen Hardy’s slave trade dealin’s. I rode with the Comanch’ down in Texas years ago, even married one.” Zach shrugged, trying unsuccessfully to hide his hurt. “Hardy was responsible for the death of two of the people closest to me.”

  He glanced in Analisa’s direction for a brief second before his eyes met Caleb’s evenly. “Let’s just say I got a stake in Hardy’s future. Or lack of it.”

  “I want Hardy alive. He’s going back to Washington to stand trial.” Caleb looked at each of the men in turn.

  “Agreed,” Williamson quickly assented.

  Caleb turned to Zach. The man was silent as if Caleb’s statement weighed heavily on his mind. Finally he spoke. “He’ll get what’s coming to him?”

  Caleb went to stand directly across the table from Zach Elliot.

  “He’ll get what’s coming to him. I’ll see to that. So will the others like him.”

  “We’ll take him alive, then.”

  “Well, now,” Ruth spoke up as the tension visibly eased from Caleb’s shoulders, “I’m sure you men have plans to make, but they’ll be best made after you’ve all had some supper.”

  Analisa watched Ruth move among the tall men like a small brown squirrel, her eyes sharp and bright, and marveled at the way she could pull everyone together in a crisis. She briskly took command of all of them and began issuing orders in much the same way she had the day Analisa met her.

  “Analisa, you look ready to drop. I’ll start heating water for your bath, and I want you to go in and take those things off and lie down until it’s hot. Abbie, add to the supper, enough for an army.” Smiling at her own joke, Ruth turned to the major, and Analisa knew by their expressions that they were fast becoming more than acquaintances. “Caleb, sit down before you fall down, and—Mr. Elliot, is it?—please go spit that wad of tobacco out before you sit down to dinner.”

  Analisa watched in admiration as the men obeyed Ruth’s imperious commands. Suddenly she was certain that if she did not lie down soon she, too, would fall down. Every muscle in her body cried out in pain and exhaustion. Barely able to clutch the sagging waistband any longer, she entered her bedroom on slow, shuffling feet and turned to close the door. Caleb stood framed in the doorway behind her. She had not heard him follow her.

  Silently he stepped inside and closed the door. He leaned forward and pried her hands from the waistband and drew the trousers down over her hips until they fell into a puddle at her feet.

  “Step.”

  She stepped out of them.

  “Raise your arms.”

  She raised them, and he drew the shirt up over her head and tossed it aside. She felt herself sway and fought to keep her eyes open.

  He folded back the quilted coverlet, and the bright splash of tulips disappeared from sight.

  “Get in.”

  Analisa looked at the pillow with longing. She stretched her arms forward as if diving into a shallow pool and slid between the cool, crisp sheets. The delicate scent of violet talcum clung to the pillow that cradled her head. The feeling was far better than she’d imagined.

  “I’ve never gone to bed dirty before,” she mumbled into the pillow.

  “Forget the bath, Anja.” Caleb’s lips touched her face with a soft caress. His tongue traced the outline of her ear, and then he kissed the soft, vulnerable spot just below it. “Get some sleep. Ik houd van jou.”

  Her husband’s voice whispering the Dutch words, I love you, floated with her into her dreams.

  “Aren’t you finished yet?”

  Caleb called out to her from the bed where he lay propped up against the headboard his hair washed and brushed to a fine silken sheen, his upper torso dark copper against the pillow at his back. He was covered with the bedclothes from the waist down, his hands locked behind his head as he waited for Analisa to finish her bath.

  “I’ll never be clean again.” She spoke to him from behind the folding screen, the sounds of her splashing loud in the stillness of the night. The other occupants of the tiny house were all in bed. They would rise long before dawn.

  “Clean by whose standards? Did anyone ever tell you that too much washing could be unhealthy?”

  “Ja? You were in here for nearly half of an hour.”

  “And how would you know? You were still asleep.”

  “I woke up off and on and you were splooshing and sploshing away.”

  He heard water sloshing over the side of the tub and then the padding of her feet on the floorboards. Caleb could see his wife’s nude silhouette outlined on the chintz screen as she toweled herself dry, and he felt his blood warm to the sight.

  Her hand reached up to grab the nightgown that hung over the top of the screen. Seconds passed before she emerged and walked to the dresser, all the while roughly towel-drying her hair.

  “What did I miss while I slept?” she asked, bending forward from the waist to fling her hair down toward the floor. Without looking, she felt around on
the surface of the dresser, closed her fingers over the hairbrush, and began to work through the tangles in her hair.

  “Why do you comb your hair upside down?”

  Her answer was a short, lilting laugh. Ignoring his question, she repeated hers. “What did I miss, Caleb?”

  “I told Zach exactly where I plan to meet Hardy. He knew where I meant and left tonight with Williamson and eight of his men. They’ll be there well before Hardy arrives.”

  “There is no way Hardy will find out?”

  “That could only happen if the major or Zach sends word to him, but they seem sincere. The other men will not be told of their destination or the assignment. They’ll find out when they get there. Tor Jensen is going along with them as one of the eight.”

  “When will we leave?”

  He shifted his gaze to stare up at the ceiling. He’d been adamant during the dinner discussion, arguing all the while against the women going along. Analisa had slept through dinner and the planning, but Ruth had insisted that the two of them should pose as captives. Outnumbered, Caleb argued that soldiers disguised as women would work just as well, but even the major and Zach Elliot had insisted that Hardy might sense a trap if the women he was to buy were bundled and covered and appeared at all suspicious. Even the fact that Hardy had briefly met Ruth at the dance and knew Analisa on sight could not dissuade the group around the table.

  Ruth decided that Abbie would stay home and take care of Kase. Caleb, Analisa, and Ruth would leave before dawn in order to arrive at the rendezvous site ahead of Hardy. If all went well, Zach and the soldiers would by then be hidden among the rocks along the rise.

  “Caleb?” Analisa was still standing before the mirror awaiting his answer.

  Caleb hesitated. God, he didn’t want her to go tomorrow. An ominous feeling nagged at him, pulled at his guts, and warned him not to take the women, but he’d been urged by the others to use reason and go against his instinct. When had this whole affair gotten away from him? he wondered. It had been hard for him to acquiesce to the group decision at dinner, but although he knew full well he had the final say, Caleb knew, too, that the others were probably right. The women were needed. He just hated to admit it. Hated to think that he was willfully putting Analisa and Ruth in danger.

  A sigh escaped him before he realized it. He watched her as she began to braid her hair into the long honey-gold rope she sometimes wore down her back.

  “Leave it loose.” I’m beginning to bark orders like a general, he thought, and added, “Please.”

  She did as he asked and picked up the brush to loosen the beginnings of the braid. He had not moved, his hands still locked behind his head as he lay reviewing every detail of tomorrow’s rendezvous.

  “We are going with you, aren’t we?”

  He lowered his arms, stretched, and then pulled her close to him. “Yes. But I have to tell you that I’m against it, Anja.” He looked down at her. “At the first sign of trouble, I want you to head out of there. You’ll be on the lead pack horse, so you’ll have to ride like hell and be sure Ruth is behind you.”

  Her breath was warm against his shoulder as she spoke. “Nothing will happen to us, Caleb. You worry too much.”

  “Ha!”

  “Your hair is very soft without that grease on it.”

  “You’re changing the subject again.”

  “I think maybe I hear an argument coming, that’s why.” She ran her fingers through his hair, pulled it back into a queue, then spread it out against the pillow. “Will you cut it off when this is over?”

  He nodded.

  She sighed, “I think I will miss it.”

  Caleb felt her left hand move across his chest before it slipped down to rest on his stomach. When he looked at her again, she was staring up into his eyes; her own were twin pools of aquamarine aglow in the light from a single lamp. Her lips were slightly parted, waiting, and he knew he could not resist her invitation. He dipped his head to taste the nectar of her kiss, his tongue slowly tracing the outline of her lips. He watched her lashes flutter as her eyes closed and she lost herself in his kiss. He rolled to his side and pressed himself against her length, capturing her face between his hands. Her arms slipped up around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair. Caleb took his time, savoring every sensation that rocked through him. Nose to nose, heart to heart, thigh pressed to thigh, they clung to each other, making no demands, just sharing the moment. As the kiss ended, Caleb pulled away to rest his cheek against hers and stare into the shadows.

  “What did I do before I had you?” he whispered.

  She hugged him close. “Rode around and caught the measles,” she whispered back.

  “Anja, do you know how much I love you?” He reached up to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. “Sometimes I’m overwhelmed when I realize how dear you ace to me. I never expected to love anyone this much. I didn’t even know I could.”

  “Just as I love you, Caleb. I never thought anyone could love me, not after all that had happened, and yet you came to me and brought this amazing love of yours ... and you share it with Kase. For that I love you even more.”

  He put aside thoughts of the morrow as his fingers began to tangle in the satin bow at the neck of her nightgown.

  “I thought you were tired,” she whispered, her hands replacing his to free the knot he’d made.

  “Not anymore, sweetheart.”

  “Sweetheart? I never heard you say that word before.”

  “A man in love says many things.” He pulled aside her gown and lowered his head to her breast.

  “I like it better when you stop talking.”

  And so he did.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Caleb rode ahead of the women as he led them over the flat terrain clotted with thick tufts of buffalo grass. Analisa followed directly behind, clinging to the rope halter of the pack horse, fighting to keep her balance. She rode bareback and astride, her skirts hiked up and bunched about her knees. A good inch of her calves showed white between the hem of her dress and the tops of the socks that extended above a pair of Abbie’s black shoes. Analisa had refused to wear her best gray kid shoes after the Sioux women had taken her old black high-tops. Abigail had stuffed a pair of her own with straw and handed them to Analisa, insisting she wear them. Over her worn yellow calico, she wore a dark shirt of Caleb’s that nearly covered her dress entirely.

  Her hair was tangled by the incessant wind that gathered the steely gray clouds above them. She glanced down at a fall of hair that hung over her shoulder. Her gaze returned to it countless times that morning, yet she never failed to be startled by its brassy orange-red shade. Her honey-gold tresses had been rinsed with henna at Ruth and Abbie’s insistence; it had taken no little persuasion to convince Analisa that the color would rinse out easily and that she needed it to keep Hardy from recognizing her. She’d been adamant, stubbornly refusing to pour the henna concoction over her hair until Caleb threatened to leave them behind unless they hurried. Closeted in Ruth’s room long before dawn, the two women had collaborated on each other’s disguises, Ruth’s flair for the dramatic tempered by Analisa’s subtle restraint.

  Careful not to lose her balance, Analisa turned to glance over her shoulder at Ruth, who was riding a mule. The mule’s lead rope was tied securely to Analisa’s lead, which Caleb held loosely in one hand. Analisa had sworn to Caleb that at the first sign of trouble she would lead Ruth to safety. She could not help smiling through her nervousness as she looked back at Ruth. Caleb’s stepmother reminded Analisa of a painting she’d once seen of a Gypsy caravan. Ruth’s curling, silver-streaked mahogany hair was unbound and hung in wild disarray about her shoulders. A silk scarf of midnight blue was wound about the crown of her head and tied behind her right ear, the ends left to trail behind. She’d refused to wear her glasses.

  Caleb led them toward a hilly area that had appeared on the horizon. They’d been traveling southward since dawn. The river, always to their right, was well hidden b
y cottonwoods and thick growth along the banks.

  Analisa let her gaze roam over the tall, broad-shouldered man riding before her, his senses attuned to every sight and sound around them. She knew Caleb was not afraid. He would never fear such a confrontation. The entire mission was well plotted, the product of much thought and planning. She sensed a hesitation in him, though, and a reluctance brought on by the fact that the others had forced him to agree that the women were a necessary part of the plan.

  Although she realized the burden her presence placed on him, Analisa knew, too, that she could not have waited at home for Caleb to return. She had no doubt that this venture would succeed, for she never questioned his ability to bring Hardy to justice. But she did know that in this, as in all things, there were factors over which they had no control. Whatever the outcome, she was convinced that the meeting with the agent was necessary. She wanted Hardy caught and convicted as much as or more than anyone else involved. The fear and anxiety she had suffered over the years since her brother and sister were taken captive only stoked her anger at Hardy’s crimes. That he had preyed upon the hapless victims of similar tragedies made him less than human in her eyes.

  Caleb slowed his horse and waved Analisa up beside him.

  “We are nearly there.” His eyes searched her face as he spoke. “Stay behind me and try to keep your eyes down. I don’t think Hardy will be there yet, but let’s not take any chances. He might recognize you.”

  “I understand.”

  His eyes took in her face and the brassy color of her hair. “God that’s awful,” he announced and shook his head in disbelief. “Thank God it’s not permanent.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you scared, Anja?”

  “No.” She answered honestly and knew he believed her.

  “Good. You need to keep your wits about you.” He bobbed his head toward his stepmother. “You are supposed to be captives, remember. Be sure to tell Ruth not to look as if she’s enjoying this so much.”

  Analisa nodded and smiled back at him.

  “From here on out, no more smiles,” he warned, “and no more talking.”