Her Cheyenne Warrior (Harlequin Historical)

by Lauri Robinson

  After some searching, he found a branch. The mare nickered at his approach this time, now understanding he was there only to help. Many from the herd had moved closer, as if to watch.

  Black Horse located a spot and slid the branch beneath the rock. His first try at lifting it snapped the branch, but he wasn’t deterred. The wood was brittle, but the branch was long, so he tried again. He put all his strength into it, and the exertion caused him to grunt. The rock slid, and the mare pulled out her leg and took off in a full gallop.

  Black Horse continued to push the rock until it slid completely off the one below so another horse wouldn’t get caught between the two. While tossing aside the branch, he watched the mare rejoin the herd. Much like people, others in her herd greeted her fondly.

  The mare separated herself from the others as he walked toward Horse, and once he was mounted, she came closer.

  Horse nickered and the mare responded.

  Black Horse forced Horse to turn around. “She doesn’t belong to us,” he told the animal. “She just needed to be set free.”

  His heart clenched as the words echoed in his mind. He closed his eyes and shook his head, not wanting to accept it, all the while knowing he had to. A wise leader learned from all that happened. Knowledge wasn’t gained only from visions or dreams. The spirits were always about. Always teaching.

  Just like the mare, Poeso had only needed him to set her free. For her it had been the fear that had trapped her.

  A pain much like what he’d experienced after Hopping Rabbit had died entered his chest, but this time it was far stronger.

  He rode out of the canyon swiftly. After reuniting with his hunting party, he killed two more deer and then announced it was time to return to the village. Their homecoming was met with joy, but he could also feel the heaviness hanging over his people, and filling his lodge.

  “We must save them,” Little One said while the family gathered to eat the roasted venison.

  “The army men afraid of Sweet Medicine,” One Who Heals said. “I go to fort and—”

  “Enough of this talk,” Black Horse interrupted.

  “I save Woman Who Sleeps in Black Horse’s Lodge,” One Who Heals said just as firmly.

  “She does not need to be saved.” Pushing his food aside he stood and walked toward the lodge flap. “Come. It is time for celebration.”

  * * *

  Lorna sat on a lumpy bed, staring into the shocked faces of her three friends sitting on the opposite bed in the small room.

  “Wells Fargo?” Betty asked. “The stagecoach company?”

  “Yes,” Lorna answered.

  “Wells Fargo is more than a stagecoach company,” Meg said. “They transport gold for the mines in California and Colorado, and a bank in San Francisco.”

  “That’s correct,” Lorna answered.

  “And you own it?” Tillie said.

  “No,” Lorna said. “I don’t own it. I own shares of the company. Elliot went to California when the gold rush happened and opened a gold-hauling company, about the same time Henry Wells and William Fargo started theirs. A few years later, they asked Elliot to merge his company with theirs so there would only be one company. Elliot agreed, but only if he still owned shares and was given a job with Wells Fargo. They agreed and Elliot still works for them. He has been reinvesting the original money my father gave him, and says those shares are now mine. It’s more money than even I imagined. Enough for me to share with all of you.”

  Meg frowned. “Why would you want to share it with us?”

  “Because...” Lorna shrugged. “I just do. One for all and all for one.”

  “That was for the trip west,” Meg said. “Not forever.”

  Lorna opened her mouth but Meg held up a hand.

  “It’s a nice offer, Lorna, and I appreciate it, but I wouldn’t feel right about taking your money. Besides, until I know what Carolyn’s going to do, I don’t even know where I’ll be living. If it’s with the Cheyenne, money won’t mean much at all.”

  Lorna’s heartbeat increased considerably. “You plan on staying with the Cheyenne?” That was what she’d been considering, but she’d been afraid to say anything.

  “That won’t be easy,” Tillie said. “It was fun, but think about the winter. Their lodges can’t be very warm.”

  Of everyone, Tillie was the one Lorna thought might be the most interested in permanently living with the Cheyenne. She’d become so attached to the children.

  “Tillie’s right,” Betty said. “I talked with many of them about that. Little Dove says it’s very cold when the snow comes. The creeks freeze over, and they have to chop away the ice for water each morning.”

  Lorna couldn’t say she’d thought that far ahead, but Betty had asked about it, part of her determination to be a self-proclaimed expert on the Cheyenne.

  A knock on the door ended the conversation.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Elliot said as he stepped into the room. With a wave of one hand, he said, “I do apologize again for the accommodations, and I can’t guarantee the evening meal will be delicious, but I will do my best to entertain you.”

  Tillie giggled while Betty blushed and Meg lifted a brow.

  Lorna stood and crossed the room. “Have you always been so charming?”

  He laughed. “You are more like your mother than you’ll ever know. That was something she said to me more than once.”

  “I do wish I’d known her,” Lorna said.

  “I’m sure that would have been her greatest wish, too.” He held out an elbow for her to link her arm through. “I know you’re still getting used to both William and me, and I’d be honored to hear you call me Uncle Elliot when you are ready.”

  She nodded. There was a hint of guilt at how much these two men cared about her while she barely knew them.

  “Are you ready, ladies?” he asked the others. “We will dine in the captain’s quarters.”

  The meal wasn’t very tasty, and very boring, compared to the Cheyenne food to which they had become accustomed. Captain Walcott monopolized the conversation talking about all the places he’d been stationed. Lorna had been longing for Black Horse since leaving the village, and that longing grew more powerful as she listened to the army man drone on and on.

  “Excuse me, Captain,” Elliot said. “The ladies are very tired, as you can imagine. I believe it is time we allowed them to retire.”

  “Of course,” the captain said, rising to his feet. “I do hope you ladies will sleep well. The cots are not the most comfortable, but after sleeping on the ground for so long, I’m sure you’ll find them a great improvement. You’ll also be more protected here than you have been.”

  Lorna took offense at his words. The buffalo robe in Black Horse’s lodge had been most comfortable, and his protection worth more than every man at this fort, yet she understood any comment she made would fall on deaf ears. Therefore, she chose a different subject that entered her mind. “Captain Walcott, is Jacob Lerber still at the fort?”

  His neck reddened as he placed his arms behind his back. “No, ma’am. It appears Mr. Lerber left earlier today.”

  “It appears?” Elliot asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When?”

  “Shortly after the women arrived, Mr. Chadwick.”

  “And when where you planning on telling me about this?”

  “Forgive me, sir, but I didn’t know that was information you were interested in obtaining.”

  As Elliot obviously attempted to control his temper, William cleared his throat. “Elliot, I’ll walk the women to their room while you and the captain continue this discussion.”

  They were ushered out before anyone had a chance to say more; however, as soon as they were on the long porch, Lorna said, “Elliot seems to be a very influential person.”

  “He is, my dear,” William answered. “The army utilizes the services of Wells Fargo on a regular basis, and Elliot is in charge of that division. There isn’t a gener
al who would risk upsetting him.”

  “Do you work for Wells Fargo, too?” she asked William.

  “Not directly,” he answered. “I’m a lawyer and they hire me now and again for specific issues, but for the most part I handle financial legal issues for a number of other clients.”

  “Who is handling your clients while you are gone?”

  “I have an assistant. Anything he can’t handle will wait for my return.” Patting her hand, he smiled at her. “Family is more important than all my clients put together.”

  A lump formed in Lorna’s throat. She couldn’t imagine having someone care so much about her. It was simply too implausible. Too fanciful.

  The warriors were standing outside the doors to the two rooms that been assigned to her and Meg as well as Tillie and Betty, and the sight of them increased her longing for Black Horse.

  William greeted the warriors affably as he opened the door to her and Meg’s room. “Your Indian friends have been given quarters as well, but they refused to enter them.”

  “They won’t leave us unguarded,” Lorna replied. “It is their way.”

  “They are good men,” William answered.

  She turned to Stands Tall, who stood somber and stoic next to the doorway. Here, too, were people who cared about her. The warriors. Granted, they had been assigned to protect her, but they could have refused and hadn’t. “Yes, they are,” she said quietly.

  William bid them all good-night, and waited until she and Meg entered the room and Tillie and Betty entered the room next door. As she closed the door, she heard him bid the warriors good-night, too.

  Sleep evaded her for a long time. The bed was lumpy and the rope stays sagged so profoundly that rolling over was almost impossible. However, she knew the bed had little to do with her sleeplessness. There was too much churning around in her mind. Her uncles had traveled for months to find her. Leaving behind wives, families and businesses. Furthermore, they’d saved her from having to marry Andrew, and by doing that, from the imprisoned life she’d always known—and would still be living if not for them.

  How could she ever repay them for that? They both wanted her to live with them. New York. San Francisco. They probably had beautiful homes full of servants to wait on their every whim.

  Such things were what she used to dream about, mainly because that was what had been put in her head. Money and how you spent it.

  She attempted to roll onto her side, and the comfort of sleeping upon the buffalo hides in Black Horse’s lodge crossed her mind again. Thoughts of him were there, too. Had been all day and evening. She missed him, that was for certain. Missed his arms and his kisses, and love, but she also missed his wisdom. He’d made her think about things differently, understand things she’d never have understood otherwise, and she could use some of that right now. He was a wealthy man by Cheyenne standards, but it wasn’t because of what he bought with his wealth. It was how he’d acquired it—through bravery and stamina—and therefore was respected. He shared all he had generously, too, as all of the band had, not just among themselves, but with her and Meg, and Betty and Tillie. Virtual strangers they had fed and clothed and housed without asking anything in return, save a little hard work and elbow grease.

  There was no pompousness or conceit in Black Horse, either. He was a wise man and intelligent, but he didn’t boast about it, or the many things he had accomplished, like the captain had during their meal.

  “Can’t sleep?” Meg asked from across the small room.

  “No,” Lorna answered.

  “Me, either,” Meg said. “I never thought I’d long to sleep on the ground, but I do.”

  “Me, too,” Lorna replied. “Me, too.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Black Horse had completed his bathing and was prepared to travel to the fort long before the sun rose. By the time others were ready, his patience had grown thin. Anger ate at his stomach and made him snap and shout at minor missteps and inquires. Little One’s tears, when he told her she could not go with them as previously planned, caused more irritation inside him. So did Horse, who sensed his frustration and pranced impatiently beneath him.

  All was finally in order, horses loaded with hides and furs to trade, and he gave the signal to leave, yet found no solace in moving forward. The pace would be slow, and that grated as deeply as all else. He should be proud his people had gathered so much to trade. In exchange they would receive many things. Not things needed to sustain life, but items Tsitsistas had grown used to, had learned to desire because of the white man.

  He, too, had grown to hunger some of those items, but more so, he now craved something stronger and deeper than ever before.

  Poeso.

  His lodge felt empty without her, his bed cold. His heart colder.

  She had changed him. Changed his heart and his thinking. Something he had thought would never happen. That was why Maheo had brought her to him. In order for him to see things from outside the Cheyenne way. Now he had to decide what to do with that information.

  They had not traveled far when three riders emerged from the trees. They were not army men, and Black Horse lifted a hand for those behind him to stop. Then, gesturing for the two warriors riding beside him to accompany him, he tapped Horse with his heels.

  Anger inside him increased as he recognized one of the men as one who’d been at the river the day he found Poeso. The one she called Jacob Lerber.

  “These men need to speak to you, Black Horse,” Talks Good, a Pawnee interpreter, yelled in Cheyenne. “It is about the white woman.”

  The heart inside his chest turned hard. “What about her?” he asked Talks Good while casting a glare at Lerber.

  “The army men have her locked up, and your warriors, in their fort,” Talks Good answered.

  Black Horse refrained from letting his anger release. Although he might believe what Talks Good said, he did not trust Lerber, or the man beside him with much hate in his eyes.

  “Have you seen this?” Black Horse asked.

  “What did he say?” Lerber asked. “Did you tell him what I said? That they have the women and his warriors locked up?”

  “Yes,” Talks Good answered. “I told him. He wants to know if I saw it.”

  “Tell him yes.”

  “I did not see this that you talk of,” Talks Good answered.

  Black Horse did not move while listening to the conversation. Unlike other interpreters, Talks Good took no sides or played favorites. Married to a white woman for many years, he walked in both worlds and wanted peace between them.

  “You are far from your home,” Black Horse said to the interpreter.

  “Yes,” Talks Good answered. “I was given many dollars.”

  “Why?”

  “To find you.”

  “Why?”

  “What are you saying?” Lerber asked. “Does he believe you saw it? Believe she’s locked up? Tell him he must gather his braves and attack the army fort. Kill all the soldiers so we can rescue her.”

  Talks Good glanced at the two men before speaking in Cheyenne again. “The older one, he hired me to find you because you stole his daughter out of the river. They want you to attack the army fort. To rescue the white women.”

  The anger that had been darkening Black Horse’s insides was nothing compared to what reared up inside him. Hate filled him. This was the man who had hurt Poeso. To him, that meant one thing. The man did not deserve to live.

  His mind was so busy thinking of ways the man would pay for what he had inflicted on his daughter, Black Horse barely heard Talks Good until the interpreter said the name Lorna.

  Shifting his gaze from the older man to Talks Good, Black Horse asked the interpreter to repeat what he’d said.

  “This man, Jacob, he says he saw the army men tie up Lorna and the others and lock them in a room, along with your warriors. He says the army does not have many soldiers at the fort. That your warriors could attack and win without much bloodshed.”

  At
most times Black Horse would have insisted Tsitsistas were peaceful people and did not wage wars on others, but right now, he was not feeling peaceful. Rage built inside him as considered his options.

  * * *

  A sleepless night left Lorna exhausted the next morning, but she had no desire to lie back down on that lumpy mattress. Her body ached in places it never had before due to the sagging rope stays. Rather than the nun’s outfit, she put on one of her other dresses, as did Tillie and Betty. Meg chose what she’d worn when Lorna first met her in Missouri—men’s trousers and shirt.

  They’d barely finished the morning meal, choking down very unpalatable food—even to her eat-what’s-in-front-of-you mindset of late—when the shot that sounded outside had them all jumping from their chairs around the table.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Elliot said already headed for the door. “You ladies wait here while I investigate.”

  Lorna may have accepted he was her uncle, and acknowledged all he’d done for her, but she’d never accept being told what to do ever again. Therefore, she followed him and William out the door. Despite her second uncle’s protests.

  “Get those women inside,” a solider running past shouted. “Indians are charging the barracks.”

  Captain Walcott paused in shouting his orders at others to turn toward them. “You heard what he said. The Indians are coming for their captives.”

  William took her arm to hustle her back inside, but Lorna shook off his hold.

  “The Cheyenne are peaceful people,” she said. “They are coming to trade their hides and furs. It has been planned for days.”

  When William frowned, she rushed forward and grabbed Elliot’s arm with both hands. “Black Horse wouldn’t attack the fort.” As men ran past with guns and ammunition, she squeezed his arm. “Please, Uncle Elliot, you have to believe me. Black Horse wouldn’t put me in danger.”