Her exhaled breath came out in a sigh. What of her? Would she spend the rest of her days here at the mission? The frolicking children provided a much-needed reminder that there were much worse places to be.
From the knoll, her gaze drifted to the horizon and the blazing orange sun hovering well above it. She raked her sleeve across her brow, wishing now she’d worn her hat to confine the long hair heating her neck. In brief respite, she lifted the tresses away from her skin while squinting through spiraling heat waves into the distance. Two riders approached. As the figures drew closer, it became clear it was one rider leading a second horse—most likely one of the many traders or travelers who frequented this hub of the Oregon and Santa Fe Trails. She turned her interest back to the children, clapping her hands to get their attention. “Time to wash for supper, penoje’k. They smiled at her use of the Potawatomi term for children that she’d learned from the sisters at the mission. The little ones scrambled to her side.
As they trudged along the grassy path back to the mission, the unmistakable spots of a painted mare caught Sarah’s eye. She hurried the children inside, handing them off to a passing nun, and then ran around to the front. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
It had to be Scout tethered to the hitching rail alongside a black horse with a patch of white just below its forelock. Both wore no saddle, and the dappled mare greeted her with a friendly nicker. Sarah approached, brushed her hand down the animal’s muzzle and turned toward the church entrance.
Wolf stood in the doorway, his dark hair hazed gray with dust and his left eye swollen. Blue, purple and yellow hues tinged his cheek, but the bruising did little to detract from his handsome face.
Sarah ran to him, flung herself into his arms, and hugged his neck. “Oh, am I ever glad to see you. I was worried sick you wouldn’t come back.”
Sensing him stiffen, she realized her forwardness and quickly backed away, fixing a crooked grin on a face that burned with embarrassment. “Forgive me. I’m just so excited you‘re here.” She nervously picked at her fingers.
He smiled then winced, dropping the puffy lid of his injured eye. “I would have been back sooner, but the army took its time in proving I wasn’t who they thought I was.”
“Thank God, they finally believed you.” Sarah blinked back happy tears.
“Oh, it wasn‘t my word they trusted. The quartermaster was on leave and the only person who could identify the man who stole the rifles and ammunition. Luckily, my description didn’t fit the details he’d provided for the wanted poster. I’m missing a scar running the length of my face, and my eyes are the wrong color. I never thought I’d be so grateful to have hazel ones.”
“Or me so thankful to see them again.”
Still reveling in their moment of closeness, but pained by his obvious discomfort at her show of affection, she took a composing breath. “You must be so tired. Come in and wash up.”
“How are you?”His gaze drifted over her.
“The people here have been wonderful to me. I couldn‘t have been in better hands. From the looks of your eye and cheek, you didn‘t fare nearly as well.”
“Just further proof that half-breeds aren’t any more appreciated than full-bloods.” He opened his mouth, working his jaw back and forth. “The beating is a reminder from the guards in the stockade that I don’t measure up to their standards.”
Sarah reached to touch his bruised face, but he grasped her wrist, holding it in mid-air. “It’s all right, I’ve gotten used to it over the years. It’ll heal.” He gave a half smile and released her. “I sure would like something to eat.”
* * *
Wolf held her arm for a moment before letting go. He wanted her to touch his face—to caress his cheek, but why stir hope when there was none. They came from two different worlds, and the beating he’d taken served as a reminder he dared not invite her into his. His ribs ached from riding all day after repeated punishing jabs at the hands of his captors. His face hadn’t taken the worst of it, but Sarah didn’t need to know that. She’d only fret, and like he told her, he’d heal.
Those lonely nights spent lying in a mixture of dirt and hay, penned inside reinforced walls like a mad animal made him question whether he’d ever see her again. It was Sarah’s face that came to him in restless sleep, and her voice that encouraged him to be strong. Until the day he found her alongside the road, he’d questioned his existence. But helping her survive gave his life meaning for the first time and allowed him to dream, if only for a little while.
Over the past few days, the agony of riding with injuries had lessened with each mile closer to St. Mary’s. His biggest fear had been that somehow Sarah had found a way to leave without him. His spirits soared the moment he laid eyes on her, and then sagged again, knowing she’d never truly be his. At least he’d see her to Independence as he’d promised and introduce her to his friend. He planned to enjoy what moments he and Sarah had left together.
“Where’d you get the other horse?” Her voice swept into his thoughts.
He chuckled at the absurdity of how he’d become its new owner. “The army figured they owed me something after….” He nearly mentioned his beatings. “Blacking my eye. They wanted to give me money, but I asked for the animal instead. His name is Star, and he’s all yours.”
Sarah clapped her hands. “Wonderful! We won’t have to ride double anymore.” A worried furrow appeared in her lovely brow. “You are still taking me to Independence, aren’t you?”
Her beauty knotted his heart like a fist. He’d take her to where the land ended and the giant waters began if she wished, but he just smiled through his pain and nodded.
She tugged on his arm. Let’s get you fed...”
Wolf heard nothing more of what she said as they walked toward the kitchen. He saw only the movement of her full, bow-shaped lips and imagined how they might taste. In the middle of the prairie, he yearned for food to fill his rumbling belly, but right now if only he could savor her kiss, his hunger would be sated.
* * *
Sarah gave Father Brouchard a quick hug, thanked him for the food the nuns had packed and for the old saddle he found for her in the barn. Wolf fastened her valise to one side of the leather skirt and secured the bedrolls behind the cantle. His parfleches, holding his few belongings hung alongside Scout’s neck. Wolf walked around and shook hands with the priest.
“Thanks again, Father. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”
Sarah smiled and nodded, then pulling her hat snug against her head, stepped up into the stirrup and swung her leg across Star’s back. Sitting a strange horse stirred familiar nervous feelings as she recalled the fateful day she suffered the snakebite while trying to mount Scout. As far as Sarah knew, Wolf had no idea she’d left him for dead and tried to steal his horse. Thank heavens Wolf hadn’t died because of her reluctance to help him. But how long would she suffer from the guilt?
“May God see you safely to your destination.” Father Brouchard’s voice sliced into her thoughts. Thankful for the distraction, she smiled at him and waved at the sisters and children who stood in the doorway. She’d miss the little Indian girls, but working with them had given her a good taste of something she enjoyed. Perhaps she could find a teaching job in Independence.
She reined Star away from the hitching rail, nudging her heels into his side until he pulled even with Scout. Wolf stared into the distance, seeming unaware of her presence. He draped an arm across his middle.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He shifted his weight, reaching to pat Scout’s neck, and cast a smile that wasn‘t very assuring. “No. Everything is fine.”
Accepting his word, she shared stories with him about the Potawatomi children and the time she’d spent with them, but he showed little interest, seeming lost in thoughts of his own. She continued talking until her mouth grew dry, then removed her canteen from the saddle horn and took a long draw of water.
They rode in silence until she
stood in the stirrups and stretched her legs. “I have to tell you that I much prefer riding with a saddle. It‘s kinder on the backside and not nearly as abrasive.”
“And I choose to ride without.” His first words since leaving the mission replaced his occasional muted moans. “I like to feel the animal beneath me.”
She studied his profile, watching for signs of discomfort. Something more than his eye bothered him. “Are you positive there isn’t anything wrong? You‘ve been unusually quiet.”
“I guess I’m just tired.”
“Maybe we should stop for camp earlier than planned.”
“That might be a good idea, but only because there’s a perfect spot not far from here with plenty of shade and a nice stream. I’ve stopped there before.”
Even with a saddle, she hadn‘t mastered the rhythm of Star‘s gait. “How many more days before we get to Independence?”
“We’re about ninety miles outprobably nine or ten days at this pace.”
She heaved a sigh. “That long? As much as I hate to admit it, those days without riding while you were gone have softened me. I could stand an early rest myself.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, she thought she saw a fleeting look of relief cross his face.
* * *
Wolf scanned the horizon for the stand of trees that marked their camping spot, praying for a break from the jolting pain caused by Scout’s every step. The relentless sun soaked his buckskin shirt and pants with sweat and stuck them to his skin, but the heat had little to do with the anger boiling within him when he remembered the faces of the men who’d beat him over and over again. Even the Colonel in charge of Fort Leavenworth had turned a blind eye when Wolf declared his innocence. He seethed with hatred at their cruelty and fought to put the chilling memory behind him.
Wolf turned an appreciative eye on Sarah’s horse, considering he’d paid a hefty price for the animal. He watched Sarah ride and stifled a chuckle at her lack of skill. Even the saddle failed to set her body in harmony with Star’s movement. She hadn’t lied when she admitted to not being accustomed to riding. No wonder she was ready for a rest.
The familiar oval leaves of the Hackberry trees beckoned not far ahead. His mother had taught him their Sioux name, Yamnumnugapi, meaning ‘crunching with teeth.’ In the fall, small purple berries ripened, serving as food for pheasants and wild turkeys, but Sioux women used the fruit to add flavor to the meat they cooked. He recalled, as a child, helping her gather the tree’s harvest, and a pang of sadness for a mother long gone plucked at his heart.
* * *
The two riders reined their horses in beneath the cooling shade and dismounted. Sarah set to work, clearing pebbles and debris from the sleeping area, then set stones for a fire. Wolf untied their supplies from their mounts and dropped them next to her. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll wander down to the creek and wash up a bit.”
The stifling hot midday sun made Sarah’s skin sticky to the touch. The high clouds passing overhead did nothing to cool the air—only added to the humidity. She rolled up her drooping shirtsleeves, and brushed the beads of perspiration from her forehead. “Sounds like a good idea. I’ll take a turn when you’re done.” She watched him walk off, feeling sorrow for what he’d endured.
The idea of a campfire held no appeal, but she gathered wood knowing when the sun went down the temperature fell with it. She dropped an armload of small logs next to the stone ring then spread out the bedrolls. When she finished, Wolf still hadn’t returned.
Sarah sat on her blanket, her arms wrapped around bent knees and surveyed the prairie. So far, fate had provided shelter when they needed it and plenty of water. Despite the few setbacks, she remained optimistic that Independence would be the beginning of a new life. She tried to recall what the town looked like, but with all the hustle and bustle of getting the wagons ready to depart for California, there had been little time for sightseeing. She’d get a good glimpse soon enough.
Her thoughts turned again to Wolf and she frowned, thinking he’d been gone for far too long. She stood, deciding to put her mind at ease. Following the same path he’d taken, she made her way to the stream.
Upon hearing the distinct sound of babbling water, she stepped from between two trees. “Ready or not, here I come,” she called.
She didn’t see or hear him.
“Wolf, where are you?” The panic rising inside reflected in her voice. She scanned the short lush banks, and the area beyond the tall cord grass. Towering far over her head, it formed a barrier to the prairie, and she was reluctant to traipse through it for fear of finding the resting place of another snake.
“Wolf, please answer me.” The urgency to see his face and know he was safe spiked like a fever. Her mind raced with possibilities, all of them bad. What if he had fallen and hit his head or…the war party?
Chapter Fifteen
Sarah stilled her fear and walked along the creek bank a short distance until it forked, winding off through tall reeds. The grassy thatch would be an ideal place for someone to hide, but if there was a war party, wouldn’t she have heard something? Fear aside, she pushed and weaved her way through the towering shafts, following the flow and still hoping to see Wolf’s face.
She stopped and listened, cupping her ear against the gurgling water and the rustling breeze. Something splashed up ahead. Treading softly, Sarah pushed onward, trudging through the annoying foliage and praying it wasn’t an animal she heard. The hair on the back of her neck bristled.
Sarah peeked out from the swaying corridor and saw him. He wore only his breechclout and stood with his back to her. For the first time she viewed his hair unbraided. Dripping wet locks hung well past his broad shoulders and glistened in the sunlight. When he swept the ebony mass to the side to braid it, Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth, silencing a gasp. Wolf’s entire back was a mass of welts and bruises. Some spots had scabbed over creating a zigzag of dark lines across his normally unblemished skin. No wonder he’d stiffened when she hugged him. She exhaled against her palm, shaking her head in disbelief.
As if sensing her presence, Wolf turned. His eye widened and he tried to shield himself with his buckskins. Aware his actions had nothing to do with modesty, she rushed forward.
“Oh my God, what happened to you?” Such a dumb question. His black and swollen eye provided her answer.
“Nothing to fret over.” He casually finished plaiting his hair. “I’m actually feeling much better after my little soak.”
She walked nearer, rage heating her blood. “How could they… why… I’m so mad I.…”
Wolf met her half way and pressed a finger against her lips. “Shhh. I’m fine. I’ve survived worse, believe it or not.”
She studied his face through a blur of tears. “But it’s not right. They had no reason to beat you like this.” Her finger gingerly traced a welt on his upper arm. “Is there anything remaining from your mother’s collection of herbs that might help?”
“Really, I’m fine.” He backed away and pulled his shirt over his head.
Sarah stepped around him, lifting up the buckskin and surveying his back. “No, you’re not. I can’t believe you rode so many days to return to St. Mary’s, and now, traveling again… you’ve not said a word.”
He faced her, his eyes solemn. “Sarah, it’s over and done. Let it go. There’s no changing what happened. In a few days, you’ll barely be able to see the marks.”
Words escaped her. How could he accept such horrid treatment? True, the lines might fade, but didn’t acts like that leave a scar on a person’s heart? Hers ached for him—for all that he’d been through in his life simply because he was a mixed breed. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t asked to be born. She touched his arm. “I’m so sorry you’ve suffered at the hands of ignorant people. I wish there was something I could do to make up for it.”
“There is.” His features softened, and he gathered her into his arms. Before she had a chance to speak, his lips claimed hers, sending
shivers of delight coursing through her body. Her mind screamed to pull away, but her heart’s plea convinced her to stay. She parted her lips, allowing his seeking tongue entrance to her mouth, his kiss quenching a desire too long denied. Twining her arms around his neck, she sagged against him, unable…unwilling to stop.
Wolf suddenly held her at arm’s length, jarring her back to reality. “Sarah, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what….”
She lowered her gaze, words failing her. Her cheeks burned with the impropriety of her actions. But hadn’t she dreamed of this moment? The sun beat down, increasing her discomfort in the awkward silence.
“That was a mistake.” His words cut like a knife. “I hope you aren’t mad at me. It won’t happen again, I promise.” He bent and picked up the items he discarded on the ground before his bath.
Did her face show the disappointment and hurt stabbing at her? If she apologized for allowing his kiss, she’d be lying. She struggled to find her voice. “It’s alright. I think we’re both overwrought and tired. Let’s just forget it happened.”
As if she could. Her insides still trembled and her heart begged for more.
* * *
Wolf stretched out on his bedroll with his arms tucked behind his head. His back had finally healed enough that it didn’t pain him to lie on it. His insides still hurt. He stared at the canopy of green between him and the sky. A light breeze fluttered the leaves and provided slight relief from the stifling heat. Sarah had returned to the stream to take her turn in the cool water.
The feel of her lips still lingered on his. Why had he apologized for kissing her when he’d thought about it for days? He’d give anything to have her body crushed against him like it was during those few fleeting moments. And the promise? Could he live up to it and never take her in his arms again? His heart faltered beneath the heavy burden he’d placed on it, knowing he had to keep his vow. Sarah deserved better than a life with a half-breed. The soldier’s beating had served as a brutal reminder that he would never be her equal.
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