Candace McCarthy (21 page)

“They are bad when they drink whiskey. They drink when white men come and give it to them.” Jane’s words were stilted as if she hadn’t spoken much English in a long while.

Miriam placed her hand on Jane’s arm. “You’ve been with them a long time, haven’t you?” she said softly.

Jane looked at her, and a spark of something came into
her blue eyes, the first sign of emotion she’d ever seen from this pale, pathetic woman with the beautiful-colored eyes.

“I’ve been here forever,” she said.

Miriam patted her arm in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Jane seemed surprised by her apology. “You did not bring me here.”

The missionary held her gaze. “Who did?”

Something akin to pain crossed Jane’s features, but then it was gone so quickly that Miriam wasn’t sure she didn’t imagine it. The woman’s expression became shuttered, and Miriam had the impression that Jane was closing herself off from the past, the pain. She didn’t want to remember, for to remember would be to suffer through her ordeal all over again.

Miriam wanted to be her friend. She shifted to sit where she and Jane faced each other, instead of sitting together side by side. “I’m Miriam Lathom. I was a missionary at Whitely Mission near Lake Superior in the Wisconsin Territory before the mission was attacked and I was captured.” By speaking of her own experiences, she hoped that Jane would open up and speak of her own. She had the feeling that Jane desperately needed to talk about what had happened to her.

“I’ve seen Lake Superior,” Jane said. “I spent some of my childhood there in the Michigan Territory. My father was a blacksmith.” A soft look came to her expression as she looked inward to what Miriam decided must have been a recollection of happier times. She met Miriam’s gaze with eyes suddenly sparked with life—just a tiny spark perhaps, but more life than Miriam had ever seen in Jane’s expression. “My brother became a blacksmith, too.” Sorrow dulled the blue eyes, but Miriam decided that the sadness was better than the dead look.

“Your brother is a blacksmith?” Miriam encouraged gently.

Jane’s features took on a faraway look. “He was,” she murmured. A small sob escaped from the woman’s throat.“I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

Sensing that the woman needed to be held, Miriam again shifted to Jane’s side, placed an arm around her. ldquo;Won’t you tell me about it?” Jane shook her head.

“You’ve never told anyone, have you?”

“No.”

“And it’s eating you alive,” Miriam said. “Has been for—”

“For what must be at least three or four years,” Jane whispered.

“Four years!”

Miriam’s distressed surprise had an unexpected effect on Jane. The woman began to talk for the first time about her experiences.

“I lived in a cabin in the woods. My husband—” Here, her breath hitched, and she seemed to sway with a fresh wave of pain. She inhaled sharply, pulled herself up, and continued. “Richard—he was—is—an officer in the United States Army. He was gone a lot. In fact, after only six months of marriage, I rarely saw him, except when he came home briefly, perhaps once a month for a day or two at a time.” She got quiet, and Miriam could see that there was a battle of pain against emotion going on inside of her.

“Did you love him?” Miriam asked.

Jane pulled herself from the battlefield. “I did, at first.

He was so handsome.” Her expression took on a dreamy look at the memory. “He was so gallant and charming.
He made me feel special …” Her voice lowered. “And loved …”

Miriam waited for her to go on without saying anything. Jane gathered herself together and managed a weak smile. Miriam had a glimpse into a younger, more carefree Jane, one who would have dazzled a young soldier with the radiance of her smile. She was sure that the officer had been as charmed by Jane as she had been by him.

“It was lonely for me whenever Richard was away. It was hard until he came to visit. Then I felt … renewed. It hurt when he went away again, but I knew he’d come back. I lived for his visits. Then, two months went by, then three, and he didn’t come. I learned shortly after he’d left that I was with child. I was so happy, and I was sure Richard would be happy, too. In my mind, I could see him asking to be assigned to a fort, where the baby and I could come to live with him.” She closed her eyes and shivered. Miriam hugged her harder, began rubbing Jane’s arms with her hands.

“He didn’t come back, and I got scared. I wrote to my brother, told him that I was going to have a baby.” She smiled softly with some other memory. “Danny packed up his things and came to live with me.” She met Miriam’s gaze with a look that told of her happiness with her brother’s decision to come. “I didn’t know it, but Danny’s wife had died, and he was alone.”

Jane frowned with concern for her sibling. “He came, and he seemed so different … as if he was afraid to show emotion. I thought he was in mourning, but then I learned later that there was more than that to his wife’s death.” She settled her hand over Miriam’s on her arm. “She died during an act of betrayal,” she said. “His wife was running away with her lover when she was killed.
She was with child when she died, and until that day Danny had thought the babe his.”

“Oh, dear God,” Miriam breathed, feeling the man’s pain.

“Danny lived with me before my baby was born and after. I was happy to have him, and he changed after my daughter’s birth. He was happy again. He loved Susie. She made him smile and laugh again.” Jane smiled, but then her expression went dark. “Danny had been out hunting when they came, wrecked the house—” her breath hitched and her face crumpled “—killed my baby, and kidnapped me.” me.”

Miriam’s eyes filled with tears as she listened.

“I didn’t care anymore after I’d learned they killed my daughter. I wanted to die, wanted them to kill me. When I was raped … it didn’t seem to matter.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Miriam held on to Jane as if she could help the woman forget the pain. “I’m sorry … so sorry,” she mumbled.

Jane straightened and composed herself. “I’m all right.”

“I don’t know how you got through it. I always thought I was a woman of God, but after hearing about your suffering—” She shook her head. “I no longer know …” She released Jane’s shoulders to clench her fists. “The savages! I always thought the Indians were worth saving, but now …”

“Did I say it was Indians who kidnapped me … who raped me?” Jane shook her head, and it was then that Miriam realized there was more … something so terrible that she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what it was.

“It was my husband’s men.”

Miriam blanched.
“What?”

Jane wore a sickly smile. “My home was attacked, myself kidnapped, and my baby murdered by soldiers of the
US Army.” She lifted a hand to run it raggedly through her closely cropped hair. “Then, when they were done, and the soldiers joined the Sioux Indians later that day, my husband, Captain Richard Milton—the only man I’d ever loved—raped me in full view of the Indians and a select group of his men.”

Her features turned a ghostly shade of white, before Jane screwed up her face in an expression of anger and hatred.

“And he loved every agonizing minute of it.”

Patience paid off, and they crept into the village, slip- ping by the sleeping Indians and white men toward the teepees beyond the fire. Daniel moved quickly and quietly with the others. Although they had watched and waited for hours, there was no certainty that all danger had gone.

He glanced toward Black Hawk, nodded toward a cer- tain lodge, and continued at an affirmative gesture from his Ojibwa friend. Together, they crept toward one teepee while the others checked another. Their quest was for white captives, all of them. Daniel’s focus was to find Jane, John Dempsey, and Miriam, Amelia’s friend.

The first lodge they came to was empty, they thought, until they saw the sleeping Sioux woman. They left as quietly as they’d come and went on to the next teepee. Daniel raised the flap, then entered first with Black Hawk following immediately behind him.

Daniel heard a gasp, saw the three women as his eyes became quickly adjusted to the light. One of them was an elderly Indian matron, who stared at them without fear. Daniel turned to the others.

“Daniel!” Miriam gasped.

He grinned in the darkness. His heart began to trip wildly as he recognized the woman beside her. He went to her, crouched low, and gazed into her eyes. His throat felt so tight; he wasn’t sure he could speak.

“Jane?” he managed to rasp out. She looked so fragile, so full of pain. It hurt him to know that she’d suffered.

She shrank back toward Miriam and stared at him.

“Jane, it’s me,” he said hoarsely. “Danny.” He used her nickname for him. She was the only one who called him Danny, the only one he’d allow to call him by that name.

“You’re Danny?” Miriam asked.

He dragged his eyes from his sister to gaze at the missionary. He nodded.

“She thought you were dead,” she said. A look of horror flashed across her face. “She believes Susie is dead.”

Daniel’s gaze shot back to his sister. Rage tightened his chest, swelled in his heart. He banked it down, for fear of frightening Jane. He reached out carefully, moving slowly so as not to scare her again. He cupped her face gently with his hands, holding her so that their gazes could focus only on each other. “Jane, it’s me, Danny, and Susie—your baby—is alive.”

She blinked. He could see the emotion warring on her face as she struggled to take in what he’d said, as if she was afraid to believe it, for fear it was some cruel joke that someone had been playing on her once again.

“Daniel,” Miriam said. His gaze flew to hers. “There’s more—”

“Dan-yel, my friend,” Black Hawk interrupted. “We must not linger.”

Daniel, meeting his glance, nodded. He released his sister. “Miriam, come on,” he said, rising to his feet. He studied Jane, was barely able to focus on the task at hand. He wanted to take her away and hold her … to find out how terrible life had been for her and try it banish the horrible memories.

He heard Miriam scramble to her feet, was vaguely aware that Black Hawk was helping the woman up.

“Where’s John Dempsey?” Daniel asked Miriam, dreading the answer.

Miriam’s expression fell. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. They took him away several days ago.”

Daniel’s gaze sharpened. “But he was alive then?” The woman nodded. “And the others? The women? Children?”

“One child—Johnny Black, Mary’s oldest—he’s here, but Mary and the others …” She looked concerned. “They were taken away … traded to another tribe.”

“Was John traded, too?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Dan-yel.”

Daniel nodded toward his friend. “What about her?” he asked, referring to the Sioux woman.

“Please, don’t hurt her,” Miriam said. “She’s been kind to us.”

Black Hawk and Daniel exchanged looks. “We’ll gag and tie her up, so we have time to get away,” Daniel said.

“They won’t hurt her, will they?” Miriam looked worried. “I don’t know,” Daniel said. He needed, wanted, to get away; they’d been here too long already. He ran a hand across the back of his neck in a gesture that only those close to him would recognize as a habit of his when he was frustrated or worried.

A choked sob sounded in the teepee. “Danny?”

He looked down, saw the flicker of recognition in the blue eyes that matched his. He bent down, grabbed her gently by the arms, and pulled her to her feet. “Yes, sweet pea, it’s me.”

She started to cry softly. He looked at Black Hawk as he picked up his sister. Murmuring to Jane softly, he slipped out of the teepee and into the night.

They hurried from the village, Daniel with Jane, Black Hawk behind Miriam, who walked out on her own. They
met with the others where they’d waited earlier. With Sleeping Bird, Thick Head, and the others sat a wide-eyed beautiful little boy. “Hello, Johnny,” Daniel said.

Johnny nodded without speaking, but when Miriam opened her arms to him, the child ran to her for a hug and some comfort.

Black Hawk surveyed the motley group. “We cannot stay. The sun will be up in the morning sky, and the Sioux will soon awaken.”

Daniel studied his friend. He knew how much control Black Hawk was exerting over his own feelings. He hated the Sioux, wanted to kill them as they’d killed his father. That he didn’t take a single life was a testament to his concern and consideration for the women and child they’d rescued.

Jane had stopped weeping and fallen into a state of exhaustion. She weighed next to nothing, so Daniel knew he’d have no trouble carrying her as far as Black Hawk wanted to go.

“Are you all right?” he said, addressing everyone in the group. “All right, then, let’s go.”

They left the area, having rescued some, but not all. Daniel was grateful for finding his sister, but he felt sorrow for the woman he loved, whose father was still missing and out there … a captive of the Sioux.

They traveled as quickly as they could, resting only when they’d entered the forest and journeyed within its shelter for an hour or more. They stopped and ate from the food supplies that Black Hawk and the other braves had brought with them.

Miriam accepted a piece of dried venison gratefully from the brave Sleeping Bird, then followed a bite of meat with a draw from the brave’s waterskin. She smiled at the
Ojibwa warrior and sat back, took another bite, and closed her eyes as she chewed and swallowed.

She heard movement and sensed it was Daniel who settled down beside her. She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “Is Jane all right?” she asked softly, with sincere concern.

He nodded. “She’s sleeping, poor thing.” A look of pain crossed his features. “She’s been through so much.”

Miriam grimaced. “More than you know.”

He looked at her. “You started to tell me something,” he said. “Back there.”

“Daniel, I already told you that she thought her daughter had been killed.”

A furrow creased his forehead as he inclined his head. “The savages must have told her they’d murdered Susie.”

Miriam shuddered, then hugged herself with her arms. What she had to tell Daniel was too terrible for anyone’s imagination.

“Daniel,” she said, “it wasn’t the Sioux who attacked the cabin and kidnapped Jane.”

Daniel frowned. “I don’t understand. She was there, with the Indians.”

“Yes,” Miriam said softly. She placed her hand on his arm, a sympathetic gesture that was not lost on him.

A muscle ticked along his jawline. “Tell me.”

“She was kidnapped … and raped,” she began.

Daniel drew a sharp breath. His gaze flamed with anger.

“—by your brother-in-law.”

He tensed, heard the heavy thundering of his own heart.

“What?”

“Captain Milton ordered a band of his men to attack your home, kidnap your sister, and kill his daughter.”

“No!” He stood, his fists clenched. “I’ll kill the sonavabitch.”

“And he’s still alive.” Miriam rose to her feet, captured his arm to hold his attention. “He hates the Indians, Daniel. Jane said that he’s been playing Sioux against Ojibwa, encouraging an already existing animosity between the two nations. He convinces the Sioux to attack certain white settlements. Small farms he has some of his own men attack themselves. He stages those attacks to look like Indian attacks, so that the Indians—any of the tribes—will be blamed. He wants the government to lose patience with the Indians so they will drive them away, regardless of any agreements or treaties between then. He hates the Indians that much.”

Daniel clamped his teeth together. “Bastard!” he hissed.

Miriam agreed. She released his arm, touched his shoulder. He flinched until his gaze came into focus again, his anger under control. “Amelia,” she said, “is she—”

The lingering glaze over his eyes cleared. His hard expression softened at the mention of Amelia’s name. He looked at Miriam, even managed a small smile. “She’s safe … at my cabin, watching Susie for me.”

Miriam closed her eyes. John Dempsey had been so worried about his daughter, wondering if she were dead or alive. “I’m glad.”

Daniel nodded, relieved that through all of this he had that one constant that gave him no cause for worry. Amelia and Susie were at home, watched over by Thunder Oak and his friends, with Jack Keller close by to complete the circle of protection.

Thoughts of Amelia took him from the edge of horror. Images of their lovemaking warmed him, made him anxious to get back to her—the woman he loved.

When he got back, he would have to tell her that her
father was still missing. He would go out again to find John Dempsey, then he would return with Amelia’s father so the man could stand by and give his daughter away …

After years of denying that he’d ever want to marry again, Daniel planned to take a wife … the only woman he fully trusted and truly loved in a way that wasn’t brotherly …

He was going to spend the rest of his life with Amelia Dempsey. He smiled, felt his loins stir as he thought of her. Amelia Dempsey Trahern.

It was dark, and Captain Milton’s regiment had settled in for the night. They had covered a lot of ground that day, and everyone was tired. Cameron Walters assured Amelia that they were getting near the Sioux village where her father—and perhaps Daniel—were captives. The captain had sent out scouts. The men’s report had dictated the direction of the day’s journey, and while Amelia felt edgy, she thought it had more to do with nervous anticipation in getting near rather than the uneasiness she’d begun to feel because of the officer in charge.

Amelia left Susie’s side to seek the privacy of the bushes for relief, before returning to the encampment. It was late, and she didn’t expect anyone to be up but her … and whichever soldier was on guard duty.

As she broke from the cluster of bushes into the open area of their camp, Amelia froze and felt her heart leap into her throat. Captain Milton had hunkered down beside Susie and was talking to the little girl, who looked terrified. The desire to protect rose up strong within Amelia, and she hurried to Susie’s side.

“Captain Milton!” she gasped as she reached the sleeping pallet where the child must have been awakened from
a sound slumber. “Susie’s not feeling well. It would be in her best interest if you’d let her sleep.”

The officer had tensed upon hearing Amelia’s voice. “She had a nightmare. I was trying to comfort her.” He looked up at her with an expression that seemed too slick, too unnerving to Amelia to convince her that he’d spoken the truth.

“Thank you, sir, but I’ll talk with her now.”

The captain stared at her hard. “I have a right to talk with her,” he said, sounding petulant.

“She’s a child, Captain Milton. A little girl. Little girls are often frightened by big men.”

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but then closed it again. “I’ll leave her to you then,” he said tightly. He rose, brushed off his pants, and moved away, back to his own bedroll.

Relieved, Amelia turned to Susie. “Susie, sweetheart,” she said, holding out her arms. But Susie wouldn’t move. She stared without seeing, her expression terror-stricken. When Amelia touched her, the child flinched, whimpered, and shrunk back away from her touch.

“Susie, did you have a bad dream?” she asked, keeping her voice soft.

Susie gazed at her, shook her head.

“Did that man—Captain Milton—” Amelia bit her lip. “Did he frighten you?”

The little girl nodded. Suddenly Susie reached out, grabbed Amelia’s arm, her little fingers biting into flesh, her eyes filling with tears. “Bad man,” she said, before she released her grip.

“Come here,” Amelia said, offering her embrace.

Susie gasped out a sob as she flew into Amelia’s arms and clung to the woman tightly. “Bad man. Bad men.”

“I’ll protect you, Susie.” Amelia felt her own eyes sting
with the onset of tears. The poor child. How could that brute of a man frighten a little girl so? “I’ll not let anyone hurt you.”

Her sense of foreboding intensified. She had been feeling more uneasy with each passing hour. She’d dismissed the notion that the captain was at the root of her unease, convincing herself instead that it was the fact that each hour they’d traveled deeper and deeper into dangerous Sioux territory.

Funny,
she thought as she hugged Susie tightly and nuzzled her face in the child’s hair,
how the captain doesn’t seem the least concerned or frightened of encountering Indians.

It happened again. Amelia caught the captain with Susie during a brief rest midmorning the next day. She hurried to Susie’s defense.

“Captain Milton!” she exclaimed. “I’ve already asked you to leave Susie to me.” She frowned as she saw how frightened the child was of the man. “Why do you persist in bothering her?”

To Amelia’s shock, the captain rose to his feet and roughly caught her arm. “Woman!” he growled. “I’ve got a right to speak with my daughter!”

Amelia gazed at him with disbelief. “Your daughter?” she replied. “Why that’s ridiculous! She’s not your daughter. She’s—”

“Daniel Trahern’s?” The man laughed harshly. “That child is no more Daniel Trahern’s than she is yours.” His light gaze glinted with an eerie light. “She’s mine. Mine and Jane’s.”

Jane!
“Are you saying that you … that you had a child by Daniel’s wife!” She gaped, so startled by his tale that she wasn’t sure how to react.