Beyond The Horizon

by Connie Mason

  “You will, Blade, nothing is impossible.”

  “It would be simple if everything could be accomplished on your faith alone,” Blade contended wryly. “Who would have thought someone like me would be lucky enough to have a wife like you? Each day I thank the Grandfather Spirit for putting you on that wagon train. And to think I argued against having you along.”

  “You were quite rude,” Shannon giggled, recalling it as if it were yesterday. “I thought you didn’t like me.

  “If I remember correctly, you were properly shocked to learn I was a half-breed. But you were wrong about my not liking you. I was attracted to you from the beginning. Each time I saw you I wanted to throw you down and make love to you. Just like now.”

  “Doesn’t my stomach disgust you?”

  “How could it when it’s my child resting beneath your heart? You’re still beautiful to me. Even more so than before, if that’s possible. Tell me, Little Firebird, is it still permitted to take my wife to bed?”

  “Not only is it permitted, but it is desirable,” Shannon assured him. “We have a few weeks yet to enjoy loving each other.”

  It was all the encouragement Blade needed. Lifting Shannon carefully in his arms he carried her to their bedroom. Their loving was slow and sweet, and oh so gentle. He enclosed her in a world that extended no farther than his embrace and powerful strength of his hard body.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next morning Blade was sworn in as deputy and his duties were explained to him. The one drawback to the job was having to leave Shannon alone on those nights he was on duty. Especially with her time drawing near.

  Some of Cheyenne’s citizens were first stunned, then appalled to learn Blade Stryker had been appointed Sheriff’s deputy. Since Cheyenne had been named territorial capital, more people had come to settle. Many of them were personally familiar with Indians and the terrible atrocities attributed to them.

  On the other hand, there were people happy to see Blade affiliated with the law. Dark and dangerous, he gave the impression of being fully capable of handling the most hazardous of duties. And paradoxically, most breathed a sigh of relief to find Blade aligned with law and order.

  When Elizabeth Hobart Morris, the leader of the suffrage movement in Wyoming, arrived in town a few weeks later, Shannon persuaded Blade to take her to hear the lecture despite her advanced state of pregnancy. The legislature was to convene in a very short time, drawing attention to suffrage and at the same time providing free publicity for Wyoming. It was an undisputed fact that more women were necessary for the survival of Wyoming, and state officials used the women’s rights issue as a focal point in their plan to lure female emigrants.

  Truth to tell, the male population of Wyoming treated suffrage as a great joke. Lacking foresight, not one male citizen thought the day would ever come when there would be enough women in Wyoming for their vote to matter. Then there were those men in the all-Democratic legislature who hoped to use the suffrage issue to embarrass Republican governor John A. Campbell, who they believed would veto the bill. Had the opponents of women’s suffrage realized that the bill would be introduced, debated, and passed so quickly and with so little resistance, they would have organized a vigorous, effective opposition. But at the time of the legislative debate the usual arguments—that homes and families would be ruined, women unsexed, and divine law disobeyed—were not raised.

  The night that Shannon and Blade attended Elizabeth Morris’s lecture, the press was well represented—the result, Shannon suspected, of the presence of legislator Bright and Secretary of State Lee, who wrote the suffrage bill. Shannon was pleasantly surprised to hear William Bright hail her after the lecture. She was shocked he even remembered her.

  “Mrs. Stryker, it’s good to see you again. And you too, Mr. Stryker,” Bright greeted them in a friendly manner. “I hope things have been going well for you.” His gaze dropped to Shannon’s protruding stomach clearly outlined beneath her coat, and his eyes lit up. “I see congratulations are in order.”

  Shannon blushed, while beside her Blade puffed up with typical male pride. “Mrs. Morris was wonderful, wasn’t she?” Shannon exclaimed.

  “Yes, but so were you, my dear. Your last lecture was quite inspiring. Wyoming is lucky to count you among one of its citizens. People would do well to remember that it is the women who will ultimately tame the West.” He turned to Blade. “Have you met Secretary Lee?”

  Introductions were made and Blade was stunned to learn Secretary Lee knew all about him.

  “Word gets around,” the secretary said. “If President Johnson trusted you, Wyoming can do no less.”

  It was a grand moment for Blade, one he savored for a long time to come.

  In early October word was received in Cheyenne that Red Cloud and his Sioux were gathering on the plains in protest of the Washita Massacre which had taken place the previous year. The tragic massacre occurred when soldiers of the 7th Cavalry, under the flamboyant Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer, had the luck to pick up a fresh trail of raiding Indians in the snow. They followed the trail to a Cheyenne encampment on the Washita River, which happened to be the village of Black Kettle, and surrounded the camp late at night. At dawn the cavalry burst into the sleeping camp like avenging furies. Unfortunately, Black Kettle was among the more than one hundred Indians dead.

  This time, however, the army paid a price for its victory. Warriors from nearby camps, roused by the firing, joined the battle and forced Custer to retreat with his Indian captives. Unlike Sand Creek in 1864, the Washita Massacre produced no investigation by white officialdom. In fact, the headstrong Custer was heartily commended by his superiors for his bold action. The Indians waited for some word from Washington that the terrible deed would be investigated and Custer punished, and when none came they decided to retaliate with their own justice.

  Telegraph lines were cut, passenger trains attacked, and anything moving on the prairie considered fair game. Travel and communications were disrupted to the point that it became dangerous for anyone to leave the city limits. The citizens of Cheyenne lived in terror, expecting hordes of Indians to ride into town and slay them in their sleep. A cry went up demanding that government officials do something about the potentially explosive situation.

  The new Indian threat couldn’t have come at a worse time where Blade was concerned. Slowly but surely he was being accepted as a valuable citizen of Cheyenne—only to find himself once again the target of hate directed at Indians in general and him in particular. Entirely because of this undeserved hostility, Blade offered to relinquish his badge.

  “You need someone people trust to dispense the law,” Blade argued when he presented his resignation to Sheriff Hall.

  “I trust you,” Hall said, looking Blade straight in the eye. “The town is damn fortunate to have you, Blade. I’m damn fortunate. Let’s hear no more about resigning. Those of us who know you aren’t concerned about your mixed blood.”

  “I appreciate that, Thad. You’ll never have reason to doubt me.”

  “I know, Blade, you’re—”

  “Excuse me, I’d like to speak to Deputy Stryker.”

  While Blade and Sheriff Hall were talking, a man had entered the office. Blade stepped forward. “I’m Blade Stryker.”

  “I’ve come from the secretary of state. Secretary Lee would like to see you in his office as soon as possible.”

  “He wants to see me?” Blade repeated curiously.

  “Right away, if you have the time.”

  “Go on, Blade,” Hall urged. “It must be important for the secretary of state to send for you.”

  When Blade was ushered into Secretary Lee’s office a short time later, he was reminded of that day he was summoned by President Johnson and set off on an adventure that gained him a wife he loved beyond all reason. Much had transpired since that fateful day over two years ago, and he wondered where this visit would lead him. If it meant parting from Shannon, he would have no difficulty
refusing.

  The first thing Blade noted was that Secretary Lee was not alone. Legislator Bright was with him. Bright greeted Blade warmly. “You remember Secretary Lee? You met at the recent suffrage lecture.”

  “Mr. Bright, Mr. Lee,” Blade acknowledged. “What is this all about?”

  “I’ll come right to the point, Stryker,” Lee began. “I’m authorized to speak in behalf of the governor. Please sit down and listen carefully.”

  Blade poised gingerly on the edge of the chair, waiting impatiently for Lee to continue. Instinctively he knew Lee’s words would bring his peaceful existence to an end and he didn’t like it one damn bit.

  “Mr. Bright filled us in on your background. In view of your work for the president, the governor feels strongly that you are the one person who might help in this touchy situation with the Sioux. The townspeople are edgy and upset over the latest development on the prairie and are demanding the governor do something to lessen the tension.”

  “What is it you want from me?” Blade asked guardedly.

  “I understand you are acquainted with Chief Red Cloud.” Blade nodded, his eyes wary. “How well do you know him?”

  “Well enough.”

  “You’re aware, of course, that the Sioux are rallying under Red Cloud. Even as we speak, they gather to decide whether to attack en masse and where to strike next. They could launch an attack upon Fort Laramie or, God forbid, Cheyenne. We want them back on their reservation. We can’t lure people to Wyoming until the Indians are under control.”

  “I am but one man—what can I do?” Blade inquired. Surely they didn’t expect him to change the mind of a great chief like Red Cloud.

  That was exactly what they wanted him to do. “We want you to convince Red Cloud that returning to the reservation is the best thing to do. Cavalry from three forts are preparing to ride against them. Hundreds of lives will be lost.”

  “What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

  “Perhaps we’re grasping at straws, but we’re desperate. Winter is just around the corner,” Lee contended, “and the Sioux have shown no inclination to return to their reservation before snow flies. You’ve lived in both worlds, and we feel you’re qualified to advise Red Cloud. Let’s hope he’s wise enough to listen. The way things stand now, citizens of Cheyenne are afraid to leave their homes and are appealing to the governor for help.”

  “It’s serious, Blade,” Bright added. “Wyoming needs families and not even giving women the vote will persuade them to venture to our territory if Indians continue to threaten their existence.”

  “When I volunteered my services to the president, I had no wife or family to hinder me,” Blade said with slow deliberation. “Things have changed. My wife is expecting our first child in a matter of weeks, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone and unprotected. The town isn’t exactly friendly to me these days,” he added wryly.

  “I understand your concern and the bitterness you harbor, Stryker,” Lee acknowledged. “And I’m asking that you put it all behind you. Once the citizens of Cheyenne learn what you are willing to do in their behalf, their feelings will change.”

  “I can’t leave Shannon. I won’t leave her,” Blade resisted stubbornly.

  “Don’t worry about Shannon, Blade,” Bright injected. “I spoke with Elizabeth Davis and Cora Allen first and both volunteered to see to her welfare in your absence. Both are great admirers of you and your lovely wife. Each generously offered to take Shannon into her home during your absence. And I personally will see that she wants for nothing.”

  The two men waited eagerly for Blade’s answer. “Even if I agree, there is no guarantee Red Cloud will listen to me.”

  “You are Chief Yellow Dog’s grandson. Red Cloud will accord you the courtesy of listening,” Lee said. “That is all we ask. We expect no miracles. We will be grateful for whatever you accomplish.”

  “What do you offer Red Cloud in return for his compliance?” Blade asked. “You can’t expect him to take his people back to the reservation without offering some incentive.”

  Bright and Lee exchanged thoughtful glances. “Food,” Lee said. “Enough to last them through the winter.”

  “And warm clothing,” Bright added. “If they return to the reservation, they will be provided with everything they need to survive the winter.”

  “They have heard those promises before,” Blade challenged.

  “This time you have my personal guarantee,” Lee solemnly vowed. “In fact, you may tell Red Cloud that once I receive confirmation that they are on their way to the reservation, cattle and supplies will be sent immediately.”

  Blade searched Lee’s face for a long time. Something in his expression must have satisfied Blade for he said, “I believe you, but I can’t give you an answer until I speak with Shannon.”

  “Fair enough,” Lee agreed somewhat reluctantly. “But I feel obliged to stress the need for haste. Red Cloud is poised to strike and many lives will be lost.”

  “I understand.” Blade rose to leave.

  “Thank you for coming, Stryker.”

  Blade strode out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

  “What do you think?” Lee asked once Blade left the room.

  “Blade Stryker is a proud and honorable man who wants what is best for both white and Indian. He is astute enough to realize that the day has come when Indians are no longer free to roam the plains and prairies,” Bright reflected thoughtfully. “He is hesitant to leave his wife at this time, and I can understand his reluctance. We will have to content ourselves to wait until tomorrow for our answer.”

  Blade let himself into the house, his face carefully composed to conceal his anxiety from Shannon. Attuned to his every mood, however, Shannon knew immediately that something troubled him.

  “Something happened,” she said, kissing him warmly. “I can tell by the look on your face.”

  Blade managed a smile. “You know me so well, Little Firebird. Come,” he urged, “sit on my lap.”

  “Do you think you can hold me?” she giggled delightedly.

  “I’ll manage.”

  Snuggling contentedly against Blade’s broad chest, his large hand resting on her protruding stomach, Shannon waited for Blade to speak. She wasn’t fooled one bit by his bravado. Something bothered him, something that concerned her.

  “How much longer? The little one kicks strongly against my hand. He’s anxious to enter the world, I think.”

  “The doctor says your son should make his appearance in a month.”

  “You’re so certain it’s a boy? It matters little to me as long as the babe is healthy. There is always time for sons.”

  “It’s a boy,” Shannon said with firm conviction. “I know we haven’t discussed it much, but I’d Hke to name him after my brother Grady.”

  “And so you shall,” Blade promised somewhat distractedly. He knew he had to broach the subject of his leaving somehow, but didn’t know how to begin.

  “Blade, you may as well tell me what is troubling you. Perhaps I can help. Has Ezra Samms been causing problems again?”

  “No, love, men like Samms I can handle. I’ve just come from Secretary of State Lee’s office. Both he and Mr. Bright expressed their desire to speak with me.”

  “Whatever for?” Shannon asked curiously.

  A shiver of dread laced through Shannon. She had assumed Blade was finished with dangerous missions like the one undertaken in the president’s behalf. Yet what else could the secretary of state want with Blade if not to send him off on some hazardous duty? Blade’s answer confirmed her worst fears.

  “The territorial governor has requested that I speak to Red Cloud on his behalf. He wants me to convince Red Cloud to take his people back to their reservation. He fears blood will be shed on both sides if something isn’t done.”

  Shannon searched Blade’s face and recognized his indecision; the need to help was a powerful force inside him. However, his reluctance to leave her gave m
ute testimony to the dilemma he faced. Shannon knew she had only to utter one word of discouragement and he’d refuse the governor’s request. She also knew that deep down inside him, Blade felt the driving compulsion to help his mother’s people survive the taming of the West.

  “Did you agree?” Shannon asked slowly.

  “I’m to give him my answer tomorrow. I wanted to talk it over with you first. I won’t do anything without your approval.”

  Shannon wanted desperately to tell Blade not to go, to stay with her, to never leave her, not even for a moment. But the words lodged like stones in her throat. It had to be Blade’s decision. Pride demanded that he do what he thought necessary to maintain a peaceful coexistence between white and Indian.

  “I can’t tell you what to do, Blade.”

  “I’d only be gone for a week or two. I intend to be right beside you when our baby is born.”

  There was little doubt in Shannon’s mind that Blade had already made his decision; he awaited only her blessing—or her plea for him to remain at her side.

  “This is important to you, isn’t it?” was all Shannon said. It was difficult to utter the words he wanted desperately to hear.

  “Lives are at stake, Shannon, both Indian and white lives. The red man’s days are numbered. If I can convince Red Cloud to return to the reservation, it will prevent much bloodshed. If they don’t return,” Blade added ominously, “cavalry from three forts are poised to ride against them.”

  “You must do what your heart tells you,” Shannon advised, still reluctant to give her blessing.

  “Dammit, Shannon, I don’t have to go if you’re dead set against it. I can refuse the governor’s request if you ask me to. You must know you’ll always come first with me.”

  Shannon could see how tortured Blade was over this and with sinking heart knew exactly what she must do to ease his pain. Obviously he was being torn apart by his need to help the Sioux and his unwillingness to leave her alone at a time when their child could make its appearance momentarily.