Running Deer rushed forward and threw herself into Dakota's arms. "You must take me with you, for I love only you, and want to be with you always."
Dakota looked into her face, noting the way her dark eyes glistened with tears. With a heavy heart, he laid his cheek against hers, knowing he could never take Running Deer with him, even though to leave her would be one more pain he must endure.
Suddenly he heard a gasp from the crowd, and he felt Running Deer stiffen. A soft moan escaped her lips, and she went limp in his arms.
In his confusion, it took Dakota several moments to realize that Black Otter had picked up the broken lance and had plunged the sharp end into Running Deer's back! With an anguished cry, Dakota jerked the lance out of her back and gently picked her up in his arms, cuddling her next to his heart.
Murmurs of anger and disapproval rumbled through the tribe. Black Otter realized what he had done when he looked into the hostile eyes of his chief. He reached a pleading hand toward Running Deer's father. The chief drew and armed his bow. The flying arrow of vengeance struck Black Otter in the chest, and he slumped to the ground.
"Help me, my brother," he cried, reaching out to Dakota. "Don't allow them to kill me. You owe my father this."
Everything happened so quickly that Dakota was left dazed. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder as Levi took Running Deer's body from him and gave her over to her mother and sister.
Dakota was aware of the hostile crowd that had gathered around Black Otter, for not only had Running Deer been the chiefs daughter, but she had been well loved. Uncontrollable rage burned in his heart as he pushed his way through the crowd to get to Black Otter. He stared at the man he had loved as a brother, for the first time seeing him as he really was. Bending down, Dakota grasped the arrow that protruded from Black Otter's chest and yanked it free, unmindful of the scream of pain that issued from his brother's lips. With trembling hands, Dakota poised the bloody arrow above Black Otter's head, ready to plunge it into his heart.
All reason was gone, and Dakota was driven only by hatred and anger. "You die, Black Otter," he hissed. "I will enjoy watching your blood spill for what you did to Running Deer. I will feed your dead flesh to the dogs!"
Black Otter weakly grasped Dakota's arm. "Are we not brothers? Would our father want you to spill my blood, Dakota?"
"Now, when it pleases you, we are brothers," Dakota ground out between clenched teeth. "The brother I once loved would not take a woman's life. You are a coward, and you deserve to die like a dog."
Levi rushed forward and grabbed Dakota's hand, forcing him to release the arrow. "Allow Arapaho justice to punish this crime. I do not ask this because of Black Otter, for he deserves to die. Rather, I remind you of your promise to your father. Let justice be done by Running Deer's father. Let no blood flow between you and Black Otter."
Slowly, Dakota's mind cleared. In his anger and grief, he had forgotten his promise to his father. Standing up, he glared at Black Otter. "As the old hunter said, I will leave your punishment to our chief."
Black Otter's face froze in anger, and he spat out at Dakota. "You had better kill me now, because if you do not, I will one day slay you."
"A shallow boast from one who will not live past the morning sunrise," Dakota hissed, stepping over Black Otter's prone body. For a moment he hesitated. That which his father had feared had come to pass. Blood had been shed and a life had been lost. The innocent Running Deer's life had been forfeit, and her only crime had been in loving him. "I do not fear a ghost, Black Otter. Before the sun sets again, you will walk in the shadows, but not with our father. You have shamed Two Moons' memory."
Black Otter pressed his hand against his wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. "I will not die tonight, Dakota. One day, you will know that nothing can stay my hand from killing you. I made no promise to my father."
Dakota had not known until today that his brother harbored so much hatred for him. With a last look at the Arapaho people he loved so well, he turned to Levi. "I am ready to go. Let us leave this place that I once called home."
There was sadness in many dark eyes as the Arapaho watched Dakota mount his horse and ride away beside Levi through the village, and across the river. Not once did Dakota look back at what he was leaving behind. Everything he loved was gone. Not one Arapaho tried to stop his departure, not even his friend Shadow Walker. They all knew that his destiny lay in a different direction.
He did not see Black Otter being dragged through the village. He did not dwell on what punishment would be wrought on the murderer of the chiefs beloved daughter. His heart was too full of grief, his mind unable to accept the losses he had suffered today.
***
That night there was no moon. Dakota stood alone beneath a star-sprinkled sky, feeling as if someone had ripped out his insides. Even though he knew a warrior should not cry, tears washed down his cheeks, for no one was around to see.
With his keen hearing, he picked up the sound of Levi's footsteps. Levi's voice broke the silence. "I know what you are feeling, Dakota. Grief is something that will only lessen with the passing of time."
For a long moment Dakota did not answer, and then he said, "Levi, I do not want you to think I will not honor my word to my father. I will go to England with you, but I need some time alone, to reflect on my grief."
"Yes, I can see that."
"Will you wait for me at Murphy's Trading Post?"
"Yes, I will wait. And I will send word to your grandfather that you are coming. How much time do you think you will need?"
"I do not know. All my life I have been an Arapaho; it will not be easy to make the change. I will come to you when I am ready to enter the white man's world."
4
England, June 1857
Lady Breanna Kenton lifted the front of her faded green gown and descended the rickety stairs. As always, when she viewed the disrepair that had befallen her ancestral home, she felt pain in her heart. She tried not to see the dust of neglect that had gathered on the mahogany banisters, the threadbare rug runner at the foot of the stairs, or the chipped marble in the entry hall. Since there was no money to retain servants to manage this huge manor house, it was up to Breanna and her sister-in-law, Sophie, to keep it clean, a task that had at one time required a full staff of servants. Many of the rooms had been boarded up, and the once proud mansion had fallen on hard times since her father's death.
It was well known that Breanna's brother, Fielding, the Fifth Earl of Kenton, was a compulsive gambler and had squandered the fortune that had come to him on his father's death. He had impoverished his family, and they were in dire straits. Valuable paintings, furniture, and jewels had long since been sold to pay Fielding's gambling debts.
Once this house had rung with laughter and happiness; now it was crumbling with decay and neglect. Breanna remembered when her mother and father had been alive and the house had gleamed and smelled of lemon wax, full of treasures acquired by preceding generations.
Breanna sighed. She had often wished that she had been born a male. If she had been, she would have left long ago. Her days were spent in hard work, and she had by now abandoned her dreams of a season in London. The only good part of her life was her friendship with Sophie, and the joy she had in watching her three nephews grow.
"Breanna, could you come in here for a moment?" Her sister-in-law stood in the doorway that led to the morning room, looking as if there were something troubling her. "I would like to... talk to you," Sophie said hesitantly.
Looking at Sophie, it was hard to believe she had once been considered a beauty. Her brown hair was now white at the temples, and her soft gray eyes had lost much of their luster. In spite of the adversity, Sophie's spirit was uncrushable. She had the rare ability to always look on the bright side in almost every situation, a trait Breanna admired, since there had been so few bright sides in their lives of late.
On entering the morning room, Breanna was surprised to see that tea and finger cakes had
been arranged on a table near the fireplace where a crackling flame chased the chilling dampness from the room. "Are we expecting visitors, Sophie?" she asked, knowing that tea was a luxury they could ill afford. What little money they had must be spent on essentials for them and luxuries for Fielding.
Sophie's eyes were downcast, and she seemed to be having trouble deciding what to do with her hands, so she clasped them behind her. "No, the tea is for you." She raised her head, and sadness as sharp as a knife brightened her eyes. "I have something to talk to you about."
Breanna was puzzled. Why was her sister-in-law acting so strangely? Suddenly she was afraid. "Please, tell me nothing is wrong with Fielding or the children."
Sophie gave a small shake of her head and motioned for Breanna to be seated. For a moment, she allowed her eyes to move over Breanna critically. For the first time, she became aware how lovely Fielding's young sister had become. The sunlight poured through the window, making Breanna's hair sometimes appear red, and other times it would come alive with streaks of golden highlights. Loveliness was molded into every soft feature on her face. Her eyes, golden with brown flecks, always seemed to be dancing with humor and merriment. She was outgoing, and she had a kind and loving temperament. Yes, Breanna was a beauty, but her looks had been wasted in this remote corner of England. Sophie hoped that after today Breanna would have the kind of life she deserved.
Before Sophie spoke, she poured a cup of steaming tea and handed it to Breanna. "I hardly know where to begin. Fielding wanted to tell you himself, but knowing his gruff manner, I insisted on being the one to relate the events of this morning to you."
Breanna was in the process of raising the teacup to her lips, but she set it down with a clatter. Something was definitely wrong. She looked at Sophie suspiciously, trying to imagine what it could be. "Tell me what is wrong, Sophie," she insisted, unable to stand the suspense.
Sophie clasped her hands in her lap, looking older than her thirty years. "You know it has been a joy for your brother and me having you live with us, Breanna. Since I never had a sister of my own, you became like my. younger sister."
"Yes, I have always thought of you as my sister also, Sophie." Breanna was bewildered. Why was Sophie acting so strangely? Had she finally decided to leave Fielding? Had she grown weary of doing without and sacrificing for Fielding's obsession with gambling— tired of his squandering his inheritance and that of his sons? In the last two years it had taken Breanna's and Sophie's combined efforts to keep the creditors from taking the house and lands. "What are you trying to tell me, Sophie?"
"Were you aware that the Marquess of Weatherford's solicitor was closeted with your brother all morning?"
Breanna's face registered her surprise at the twist the conversation had taken. She, like everyone else in England, knew of the Marquess of Weatherford. He was one of the most powerful and influential men in the country. "No, I was not aware that Fielding was even at home. Why would the Marquess of Weatherford's solicitor call upon our humble home?" Her hand went to her mouth. "Surely Fielding does not owe the Marquess a gambling debt."
"No—nothing like that." Sophie looked befuddled for a moment. "Breanna, this happened long before you were even born, but do you recall hearing accounts of how the Marquess's son and daughter-in-law disappeared while on an expedition in the wilds of America?"
Breanna was still mystified, but she searched her mind, trying to remember what she had heard about the death of the Marquess's son and his wife. "I vaguely recall that they were lost and it was believed they had met with a mysterious end, leaving the old Marquess with no heir"
"That's right, but it seems that before the daughter-in-law, Cillia, died, she gave birth to a son."
"How ironic. Why have I never heard this?"
"Because the Marquess has been working for years to locate and bring his grandson to England."
"Where is this child?"
"He is not a child, but a man in his twenties. I don't know the particulars, but it seems the grandson was raised by a tribe of Indians. As extraordinary as it sounds, he is now on his way to England."
"What a remarkable tale." Breanna smiled. "Even though I am not acquainted with the Marquess, I am glad that his story has a happy ending. Of course, one can only speculate on what the grandson -will be like. He will be uneducated, of course, and I should think something of a . . . primitive."
Sophie's face whitened. "The story is not ended yet, Breanna." She took her sister-in-law's hand and clasped it tightly. "Can you imagine the happiness the old Marquess felt, knowing his line had not died out? He had lost his only son, and his title and fortunes were to pass to a distant cousin. Just think of his elation at finding his long-lost grandson."
Breanna was beginning to feel a prickle of apprehension, though she could not say why. "Yes, I can see that he would be happy... but how does that concern us?"
"You have to understand, Breanna, that Fielding has your best interests at heart. For years we have taken unfair advantage of you. I have always been grieved that you could not have a season in London. I fancy you wearing lovely gowns and making new acquaintances with others of your own age and social standing. The only people you ever see here are villagers and tradesmen."
Breanna felt her heart beating loudly, and she shook her head. "I have not been unhappy with my life —"
In spite of the fact that Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. "Oh, Breanna, I do not know any other way to say it. You have been chosen to marry the Marquess's grandson!"
Breanna jerked her hands free of Sophie's clasp and jumped to her feet. The words were ripped from her throat, and anguish sparkled in her eyes while the color drained from her face. "What are you saying? Dear God, the Marquess's grandson was raised by Indians. He is a . . . savage! No, I will not do this. Fielding cannot make me."
Sophie stood and held her hand out to her sister-in-law, but Breanna backed away. "How can you and
Fielding even consider such a prospect? I thought you loved me."
Tears ran freely down Sophie's face. "We do, Breanna. It is tearing my heart out to . . . I cannot bear to think of . . ." She took a deep breath and wiped her tears from her face with the back of her hand. "Fielding has pointed out to me the advantages to such a marriage. You will be marrying into one of the oldest, most prestigious families in England. I am told that the Marquess is wealthy beyond anything we can imagine. He has promised that you can have anything your heart desires."
Breanna felt the helplessness of her situation weigh heavily on her young shoulders. She was the sister of an impoverished Earl. She was in her nineteenth year, and as of yet, no one had offered for her hand, or even sought to court her. She was not what her brother termed a "marriageable advantage." The Kenton family had fallen so far into disgrace because of Fielding's gambling that friends had ceased visiting years ago. Breanna raised her head and looked into the tear-filled eyes of her sister-in-law. She knew this was none of Sophie's doing. She also knew her brother would not have given her hand to anyone unless it had gained him some sort of advantage.
"What did the Marquess offer my brother in exchange for me?"
Sophie shook her head. "No, no, you must not think like that. Try to understand why your brother agreed to this marriage. He is truly interested in your future. He is aware that we have ill used you. You have been little more than a servant in this house. You have found joy in loving our children, but I want you to have children of your own."
"Children by an... Indian?"
A sob expanded Sophie's chest. "Breanna, please—"
"What did the Marquess offer Fielding?" Breanna asked again, this time more pointedly.
Seeing there was nothing to be gained by withholding the truth from Breanna, Sophie spread her hands in a hopeless gesture. "He offered to pay off all Fielding's debts and to transfer fifty thousand pounds to him on the day you are married to his grandson."
Breanna took a deep breath. She was hurt—sh
e was angry, but most of all, she was frightened. "I will honor my brother's bargain, but only because the money may make life easier for you and the children. If you are wise, you will insist that Fielding allow you to handle the finances, lest the money find its way onto a gambling table."
Sophie loyally defended her husband. "Fielding has changed. He has not gambled in over three months. I have never known you to be cruel about your brother's shortcomings, Breanna. This attitude does not become you."
"You will have to forgive me, but you see, my brother just sold me as if I were nothing but a chattel, and I am not feeling very charitable toward him at the moment."
"I hope in time you will find that your brother has done well by you. You have been wasting your life here, Breanna—this is no way for you to live. You are lovely and sweet, but as the years passed, they would have taken their toll on you. They would have taken your looks and your sweetness."
Breanna walked to the window and stared out at the garden that was choked with weeds. "Can you tell me anything more about the man who is to be my . . . husband?"
"No, I'm sorry, but you see, the solicitor knew little to tell us. He did tell Fielding that the Marquess was not overly concerned that his grandson had been raised by Indians."
"No, of course not, why should he be? An heir is an heir by birth, no matter what his character is or how he was fostered."
"Breanna," Sophie spoke hurriedly. "The solicitor intimated to Fielding that if you were to have a son from this union, the old Marquess would lay the world at your feet." Sophie caught Breanna's hand. "Perhaps it won't be so bad. The act of marriage is one that must be endured by all women no matter who they marry. But children are such a blessing, they make it all worthwhile."
Breanna knew that Sophie was trying to comfort her, but she had succeeded only in making her more apprehensive. She trembled when she tried to imagine what the man she was to marry would look like. The vision that came to mind was a ghastly painted face and a half-naked body. "Dear God, how can my own brother treat me with such small regard? How can he banish me from everything I hold dear and cast me into a life of . . . of . . ." Words failed Breanna. She could not imagine what kind of life she would be leading once she left Kenton.
Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) Page 5
