‘Come, child.’ Tom Marriot turned his attention to Polly. ‘Let’s have you out of those heathen clothes and looking like a decent Christian again.’ He was already making room for her on his horse.
Polly hesitated, aware of the score of eyes upon her. She had no desire to ride with Tom. Her place was with Dart. Their eyes met and he nodded his head fractionally. Understanding, she gave him a reluctant grin and mounted Tom Marriot’s horse.
‘Tell the rest of your company to ride back to their camps, whether it be Richardson or Chariton,’ Dart said to Nephi authoritatively. ‘I want Miss Kirkham to be brought to the Fort.’
Nephi nodded. No doubt there were many questions for Polly to answer. Josiah waved a cheery goodbye, but Jared rode steadfastly behind them, accompanied by Nephi. Where Polly went, he went. He owed heartfelt thanks to the Major, and felt them, but still he did not like the man—or trust him.
The sun shone, the snow was rapidly melting. Young grass sprang bravely upwards, replacing the blanket of white with tender green shoots.
Dart rode ahead of them and Polly savoured the sight of him. At Leavenworth they would be married. There would be no more bitter-sweet moments curtailed all too soon by misunderstandings on both sides. They would have all the time in the world to love: the rest of their lives. And not in snowdrifts or tepees or on horseback. She smiled happily at her thoughts and Tom looked at her curiously.
‘Your adventure does not seem to have harmed you, child.’
‘No, Tom, it hasn’t. And Tom …’
‘Yes?’ He looked at her fondly, this girl who was like a daughter to him.
‘I’m not a child. I’m a woman.’
‘Aye.’ Tom’s assent was wry. Jared knew that well enough; as did the Major. He had a feeling that his difficulties were still not over. His son had spoken as if his marriage to Polly was imminent, yet Tom was astute enough to have seen the protective way Major Richards’arms had enfolded Polly as they had approached. He also knew that Jared, as was his nature, was being over-optimistic. Polly had never agreed to marry him. He had tried to warn him, prepare him for disappointment, but all to no avail. When Polly was rescued from the Indians, Jared insisted he was marrying her. His father had tried to warn him that Polly might be no more eager for marriage than she had been previously, but Jared had turned a deaf ear. It seemed to him that Jared would have to learn the hard way that it was unwise to assume anything. Especially if that assumption concerned women.
Polly’s heart was exultant as they rode between the sun-dried brick towers flanking the gates of Fort Leavenworth and into the spacious quadrangle. Soldiers, going about their daily business, stopped and stared. Then, seeing the Major at the head of the strange party, they hurried on their way. Major Richards was not a man to appreciate open curiosity as to his doings.
As they slid from their horses Dart strode across to her, saying briefly, ‘I must report at once to my commanding officer. Say nothing at all about what happened at the camp—for my sake.’
‘All right.’
Why did it matter so much? She had no time to ask him. He was already striding towards a long, low building, removing his gauntlets, while a young soldier led his horse away for a well-deserved rub-down and rest.
The Captain who had greeted them earlier crossed quickly towards them.
‘My wife has arranged a suitable change of clothing for Miss Kirkham, and also a hot meal.’
Polly followed him gratefully: a hot meal. When last had she eaten one? Or at least one that was appetising.
The Captain’s wife was young and pretty and chattered incessantly. Nothing of what she said penetrated Polly’s tired brain. So much had happened and now she was overcome with weariness and she wanted to sleep. But not until after she had seen Dart again.
Polly ate gratefully and then discarded the Indian shift with its delicate embroidery and the leggings which had been so suitable for riding, and allowed herself the pleasure of a soak in a hot tub of soapy water. The gown that had been laid out for her was a little less modest than the ones she was used to. A lace fichu at the neck plunged quite daringly before it reached the tiny buttons of the bodice.
‘Your young man wishes to speak to you,’ the Captain’s wife said and disappeared discreetly before Polly could stop her.
As she left the room Jared entered. The dress Polly wore exposed the crevice between her breasts. Jared averted his eyes manfully. Immodest or not, at least it was better than the heathenish clothes she had escaped from the Indians in.
‘I hope you don’t think less of me for not riding to the camp with the Major, Polly, but he would not let me. I pleaded with him to let me join him, but he forbade it utterly.’
‘He was quite right to do so,’ Polly said gently. ‘You played your part, Jared, and without your ride to the Major I would not be alive now.’
He took her hands in his and she grasped them tightly. ‘Thank you, Jared. I know what I owe you and will never forget it.’
His grey eyes were tortured. ‘I know the Major says you were treated with respect, but though the others may believe him, I do not. I saw the way you were taken … the warrior …’
Polly looked away quickly, afraid her eyes would betray her.
‘Polly, dearest. I know. I know what you have suffered at the hands of those unspeakable savages.’ His throat tightened. ‘I have come to tell you that it makes no difference to me.’
‘No difference?’ A small frown creased her forehead as she returned her gaze to his, not understanding.
He licked his lips and said awkwardly, ‘I still want you for my wife, Polly. No matter what happened to you at the Indian camp. I swear I shall never mention it between us. I shall treat you just as if, just as if …’
‘Oh, Jared!’ Polly did not know whether to feel despair, impatience or amusement. ‘Nothing happened to me at the Indian camp. Nothing that could prevent me becoming the honourable wife of any man.’
The relief in his eyes was pathetic.
‘But I will not marry you, Jared. I’ve told you so many times and I have not changed my mind.’
‘You must.’ His voice was urgent. ‘I believe that you are telling the truth, Polly, but others will not. For ever you will be pointed out as the girl who was captured by the Indians. No decent man will marry you now.’
‘He would, if he loved me,’ Polly replied tartly.
Jared shook his shock of fair hair. ‘If you don’t marry me, Polly, you will have no husband.’
Sparks flashed in her eyes. ‘That is where you are wrong, Jared. I am to marry the only man I want to marry. I am to marry Major Richards.’
If she had slapped him across the face she could not have shocked him more.
She said, trying to soften the blow, ‘I am the last person in the world you should marry, Jared. You would for ever be apologising for my behaviour, chastising me, forgiving me. It would be awful tedious for both of us. The girl you should marry is Emily Merrill. She would make a fine wife and she loves you. I also think that you love her, but are not yet aware of it.’
‘Polly!’
She was at the door. She turned, her happiness seeming to give her an inner luminosity. His next four words destroyed it utterly.
‘The Major has gone. He left the Fort almost immediately.’
The smile froze on her face. ‘No! He can’t have! It’s not true!’
She opened the door and began to run. He could not leave her. He would not. She half fell up the wooden steps leading to the building Dart had entered. The grey-haired man at the massive desk paused in his conversation with the Captain. Both stared at her. She was clutching her chest, gasping for breath.
‘The Major! Where is he?’
‘My dear young lady, I …’
‘When will he be back? He must be coming back. He hasn’t left for good: he couldn’t have!’
The men exchanged glances and the Captain saluted and retreated. As the door closed behind him, the General emerged f
rom behind his desk and took her arm, leading her protestingly towards a chair.
‘Major Richards had duties to perform elsewhere.’
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Trying to think.
‘No,’ she said repeatedly, clasping and unclasping her hands in agitation. ‘He would not go without speaking to me. When will he be back? By nightfall? By morning?’
‘I’m afraid you do not understand. The Major is riding for Fort Kearney. He will not be returning to Leavenworth.’
The blood thudded in her ears and her heart drummed painfully in her chest.
‘But he must! There has been some mistake.’
‘There has been no mistake. I gave the Major his orders myself.’
‘Is there no message for me?’ she asked wildly. ‘No letter?’
‘The Major wished to leave a letter, but I advised against it.’
‘You advised against it!’ Polly’s anguish was replaced with blinding anger. ‘What right have you, sir? What right to send him away without even allowing him to speak with me!’
The Captain, stationed outside the door, flinched. No one spoke to the General like that. Least of all a slip of a girl young enough to be his grandchild.
The General’s eyes were grave. ‘I see that you will not be satisfied with my explanation, Miss Kirkham, and must be given a fuller one. Major Richards told me that he had made a proposal of marriage to you. Indeed, after giving me a most unsatisfactory account of your rescue from the Pawnees, he requested not food or drink, but a preacher.’
Polly trembled with relief. For a moment she thought she would faint and then the mist cleared and she said, ‘Why then did you order him away?’
‘My dear child, you were in a vulnerable situation. Naturally you felt an overwhelming gratitude to Major Richards and …’
‘I felt love for Major Richards,’ Polly said defiantly, refusing to let his eyes slide away from hers. ‘I did so before I was captured and I do so now.’
‘I’m sure that you did,’ the General said indulgently, in a voice that indicated he felt nothing of the kind. He was used to infatuations and the havoc they could cause. He had reared five daughters of his own. ‘Unfortunately, Major Richards has been less than truthful with you.’
Her heart began to thump irregularly. What did the General mean? Was Dart already married? Had he proposed and regretted it and asked for a preacher out of honour and obligation?
‘He has not told you of his background or why it is impossible for a girl of your upbringing to marry him.’
Polly’s confusion deepened. His background? He was a Major. As for her upbringing, she was nothing but an orphan, travelling homeless across the plains with a party she knew the General would classify as religious fanatics.
‘Mr Spencer has informed me that your mother was Mary Ellen Jameson, the daughter of Charles Jameson of Wilmington.’
Polly nodded.
‘I knew your grandfather very well. I’m a Wilmington man by birth.’
Polly had no desire to hear the General’s reminiscences of his youth.
‘I fail to see what that has to do with your sending Major Richards away and disapproving of his plans to marry me.’
The General folded his hands patiently on one knee. ‘The Major,’ he said compassionately, ‘is not like other men.’
‘I know that. It is the reason I wish to marry him.’
The General winced. Somewhere between Wilmington and Fort Leavenworth good manners and breeding had been abandoned.
‘He is not a white man, but a half breed.’
Polly sat very still. The General now had her full attention.
‘He was the result of a rape on a settler’s wife in Nebraska. The woman carried the child, but obviously had no desire to rear it. He was left, hours old, outside a Pawnee encampment.’
‘The Pawnees being responsible for his birth?’ Polly asked in a voice that the General regarded as unnaturally calm.
‘Yes.’ He had no wish to go into indelicate details with the forthright young lady before him. ‘He lived with them for eight years and was then befriended by a fur trapper and his sister. The sister was not without means. Major Richards received a good education and has carved out a very admirable life for himself, considering his handicap.’
‘Of course.’ Polly’s voice was expressionless, but she could imagine the handicaps the General spoke of. The name-calling; never being fully accepted; a tight knot of pain gathered deep within her. She had called him a savage, as so many others must have done.
‘Please continue, General.’
The General, glad that she was now composed and listening to sense, continued.
‘There was an unfortunate incident some years ago. Richards was a Captain then. A brilliant soldier. There was an infatuation. The sister of a brother officer. To be fair to Richards, I believe the lady in question was not entirely innocent. Still, it was utter folly of him to think it could have become a serious entanglement.’
‘What happened?’ Polly asked, already knowing and fighting down the waves of anguish that engulfed her.
‘Richards formally asked for the young lady’s hand in marriage.’
‘And was refused?’
‘But of course, my dear child. It was explained to him quite tactfully that no young lady could possibly marry a man who was, after all …’ He hesitated.
‘Half Indian,’ Polly finished for him politely.
The General swallowed. ‘Exactly. He seemed to think that because of your age and circumstances the situation was now different.’
‘He did not.’ Polly’s voice was vehement. ‘He thought it different because he loves me and knows that I love him in return.’
The General coughed and wondered how the Mormons had coped for so many years with such an outspoken young woman. He continued manfully.
‘Mr Spencer informed me of your family connections, and, of course, my having grown up with your grandfather …’
‘I still don’t believe he would have changed his mind just because of your opinion,’ Polly interrupted and rose to her feet, a dangerous light in the back of her eyes.
‘Mr Marriot was called and agreed that his son was eager to marry you. Mr Spencer and Mr Marriot agreed that such a marriage would be most suitable.’
‘You sat in here, all three of you, and discussed my future as if my feelings were of no account!’
‘It was for your own good, your own happiness.’
‘And Major Richards? What did he say?’ She was so angry that she was shaking.
‘What he said would have court-martialled him if I was not an exceedingly patient and tolerant man,’ the General said, his exasperation at last showing through. ‘He was adamant that you had no desire to marry elsewhere, but Mr Marriot and Mr Spencer assured him that there could be no happiness for you with him. I also spoke out to him very clearly about the unfortunate attitudes you would meet with from other officers’wives and then, of course, any children …’
‘You interfering, short-sighted, silly old man!’ Polly said furiously. ‘Oh, why couldn’t you leave well alone? Why can’t I live my own life the way I choose? Why does everyone believe they know what is best for me?’ She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Goodbye, General. I assume I might have the use of a horse?’
‘Of course. I understand you rode with Mr Marriot on your journey here …’
The door closed in his face.
She ran to the Captain’s quarters and removed the dress so hastily that a button flew off. She pulled on the shift and leggings. If she was to ride hard she had to do so unhampered by skirts. Seizing the cloak she slammed the door behind her.
At the far side of the quadrangle she could see Jared in what appeared to be violent conversation with Nephi and Tom. She ignored them and did not wait to ask for a horse. She fastened her cloak at her throat and mounted the first one that she saw.
Behind her she was aware of a cry of protest from the horse’s owner a
nd running footsteps. No doubt Jared and Nephi and Tom were also aware of her dramatic exit. She did not care. They could follow if they wished. It made no difference to her. Her hair streamed unrestrainedly in the wind, the mink skins falling from her shoulders and over the haunches of the horse. Fort Kearney. She knew only that it was on the River Platte and further on from Council Bluffs. How long had she taken to eat her meal and change her clothes? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? She had soaked luxuriously in the tub of hot, soapy water. A half hour could have passed before she had rushed into the General’s office. How long had their conversation taken? She had no way of knowing. Time had ceased to exist. Listening to the General she had understood everything: his likeness to Chief Red-Cloud; the agonised parting; the insistence that she had been treated respectfully and that no avenging parties of Mormons or soldiers would seek the Indians out. All his life he had been alone. As she was alone. He did not fit into the society in which he lived and neither did she. They belonged nowhere and with no-one but each other.
‘Faster,’ she urged the horse, and then her heart leapt and she gave a cry of joy. Ahead of her, shoulders hunched, rode a blue-jacketed figure.
‘Dart! Dart!’
He turned. She was too far away to see his face, but she saw his actions: the immediate wheeling around of his horse, the flurry of stones and pebbles and then, as they galloped towards each other, the naked joy on his lean, dark face.
‘You’ve come!’
‘Of course I’ve come,’ she cried, slithering from her horse’s back as he sprang to the ground. ‘I’m your woman! You told Red-Cloud so!’
He seized her in his arms and the dark head and the gold closed together in a long, deep, seemingly endless kiss.
A quarter mile away Jared and Tom and Nephi reined in and watched. ‘Emily Merrill for you, Jared my boy,’ Tom said at last as the two figures in the distance merged into one.
Jared nodded, silenced by the depth of the love that emanated across the plain.
Neither Polly nor Dart were aware of his presence or departure. They were aware only of each other: of the beginning of a life of joy and companionship and love where loneliness would have no place.
A Many-Splendoured Thing Page 16
