Dakota Dream (13 page)

Pleased by Dominique's progress, Jacob turned to comment on her quick reversal, but instead, he noticed the glazed look in her eyes, the slightly parted lips—so full, so pink,
so
inviting. Memories of their softness, of the lush texture and eager response, took him by storm. Jacob's breath caught in his throat and his mind could concentrate on only one mission—to find a way to make this woman his own. The mare forgotten, he leaned forward and took her face in his hands. "Dominique." His throat slammed shut, cutting off his words, his air as reason whispered in the recesses of his mind:
You cannot jeopardize your mission over this woman—over any woman.
But still he could not seem to release her.

"Jacob," she breathed with difficulty, drawn to him by something equally frightening and thrilling, unable or unwilling to consider the impropriety of what she was doing. She found herself wondering instead if his kisses would be like those of the Indian, if the memory of Jacob's touch would heat her, then linger in her body even as she slept. He pulled her closer to his tantalizing mouth, and Dominique knew that the answer to those questions would soon be burning on her lips. Bolder than she'd ever been in her life, Dominique slid her tongue across her bottom lip, closed her eyes, and inclined her head to receive him.

Peaches had more sense than either of them. With a shrill whinny, she bobbed her head and slammed her muzzle into Jacob's back. He lurched forward, crashing into Dominique. She went flying across the aisle.

She kept her balance as she stumbled, and for a moment, Dominique thought she would also keep her footing.

But then the heel of her boot connected with a pile of fresh horse dung.

Dominique shot backward, scattering and then landing in the manure Jacob had carefully raked into a small mountain earlier that morning.

Later that evening after the nine-thirty lights-out, Jacob tucked his blankets around pillows he had formed into the shape of his own body. Then he crept silently out of the barracks. He made his way on foot to the meeting spot in the trees to the north of the fort, where he found a tethered horse waiting for him. It was his old friend, the stallion, Sampi. Jacob launched himself on the animal's back and dug his heels into the horse's flanks.

He rode in a zigzag fashion for five miles before reining his mount to a halt at the crest of a small butte. Leaning back on the stallion, he pointed his chin to the moonless sky and uttered the staccato signal: "Yip! Yip!
Yip!"
He followed this with a perfect imitation of the howl of a lone wolf.

And then he waited.

When he heard an echo of the signal from the west, Jacob wheeled the horse in that direction and rode until he came upon another rider. After the warrior recognized the horse and the soldier it carried, he raised an arm in greeting and led the man dressed as a Long Knife into the Hunkpapa camp.

Chief Gall stood outside the warrior's lodge and waited for his son to greet him. When Jacob approached, the two men clasped hands and stared into each other's eyes before the elder finally spoke: "It is good to see you my son. Are you treated well?"

"Well enough, my Father."

"Come, then, let us hear the news you bring." After opening the flap to the warriors' lodge, Gall stepped through and waited for his son to enter before he took his place of honor and sank cross-legged onto a buffalo rug.

Following his father's lead, Jacob eased onto the rug at his right and removed his cavalry-issue hat. Sitting Bull passed him the pipe the men had been smoking, and even though the acrid smoke stung his eyes, Jacob took a puff and handed it to his father.

"And now, Redfoot, what news do you bring us?" the Father said.

"Much information, but little news, I am afraid. The Long Hair left on a journey to his Chief's home in Washington two days after I came to the fort."

Chief Gall grunted and pointed to a young warrior who had just earned his way into the warriors' lodge. "Little Dog has made coup on a worthless soldier from the Seventh Cavalry. The soldier wandered too far off course during his duty as a guard. See the feather in Little Dog's hair to show his first victory over the enemy? Is this achievement to be the only tale for us this night, my son?"

Jacob slowly shook his head and began repeating the story Barney had told him only hours ago. "A message came to the officer in charge this morning. On Saturday, three days past"—
as I was spinning the beautiful niece of my enemy around in my arms,
his troubled mind added. Jacob swallowed hard and went on. “A company of Long Knives led by Colonel Reynolds attacked Crazy Horse and his village at the Little Powder River. More than one hundred lodges were destroyed and many were killed. I am told that Crazy Horse survived, but now he will be hunted fiercely.''

"As we are," Gall amended.

"As we are."
Jacob regarded the thin yellow braid stitched along the outside seams of his trousers, then made an observation. "From what I have seen and heard, these Long Knives will not be happy until all warriors, regardless of nation or tribe, are lying in their final resting places."

His expression grim, Gall slowly nodded, then asked, "Was the Long Hair, Custer, fooled by the camp you led him to after your escape?"

Jacob regarded his father, suddenly unsure how much he ought to reveal. Dominique was paramount in his mind. Was he honor bound to mention her name? Should he give the Lakota the true identity of the crazy one? Should he tell them how fragile his disguise had become and that the mission might be in jeopardy? He thought back to his rescue of Dominique, to the night in his tipi, and he remembered her fire and spirit. In peril, she had spit on him, issued threats he didn't understand, and told him she was not afraid. But then he thought of her lying in the barn only a few hours past, trembling with fear as a timid mare nuzzled behind her ear. He thought of her reaction when she'd fallen into the horse droppings, how she'd sputtered, all fire and spirit again, and he nearly laughed out loud.

Jacob admired and desired her, but he feared the power she held locked in her mind. She intrigued and enticed him, yet she represented all that he'd come to hate. How could he explain these feelings to Chief Gall when he wasn't sure he understood them himself? One day, perhaps soon, he would have to speak her name, reveal her threat to their mission. For now, Jacob took another puff from the pipe and relished the light-headed sense of freedom it gave him.

Too soon, his head cleared, and he knew he must answer his father. "I led the Long Hair to our camp myself. He thought I was a good scout and said so many times. I am certain, too, that he believed it when I said the
Hunkpapa
had fled the area. He also thinks I will make a good scout when the soldiers begin their war against us."

"That is good to hear, my son." Gall sucked at the wooden pipe as he mulled over his worries, and finally said, "What have you learned of the troops who were searching the area while you were confined to the prisoners' tipi with the Long Knife? Did so many seek one missing soldier, or was there another purpose?"

Dominique. But what was he to say, what could he do?

Jacob looked into the kind onyx eyes of the Lakota chief and slowly shook his head. Then, for the first time in his life, he lied to his father. "I do not know."

Sensing Redfoot was troubled, Gall's wide slashing mouth softened and the corners turned up in an understanding smile. "We have stirred your brain like a pot of stew in our hurry to gain knowledge of the white eyes.
Rest, my son.
Tell us what you have learned as it comes to you."

But the words didn't comfort Jacob; they added to his burden of guilt, his sense of betrayal. "I do not need rest. I have come to inform. Inform I shall." He took a deep breath and condensed the story of his first few days as a soldier in the United States Cavalry. "The soldiers have very strange ways. Everything they do must be done by a timepiece like this."

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out gold watch and chain. He passed it to Gall, who examined it and then sent it on to the other warriors. Jacob explained as each man studied the shiny object. "Each morning before the sun has
awakened,
a soldier blows air into a long metal horn to rouse the others. Then we are obliged to stand and have our names called before we are sent to a long room. In this room," Jacob said with a grimace, "we are forced to eat what is called breakfast."

"Is this breakfast an animal the Long Knives have tamed?"

Jacob laughed. "It is the name of a meal, like
tankapa
.
The food they force us to eat at all meals is not fit for our dogs. They make stew and hash with beans and molasses. Each meal seems to be made with these things, and each has a different name. All of it angers my belly."

Sitting Bull spoke up. "I will prepare a potion for you to ease your pain."

"Do not bother. Your medicine will only make my belly think all is well, when I know I must return and feed it more of this poor food. It will be better for me to continue this way." Noticing the men were through looking at the watch, he took it from the blanket and checked the time. Soon he must return to the fort or be discovered.

"I must finish my story and return." The others quieted and urged him to continue. "The soldiers spend much of the day doing women's work when they are not filling their bellies. For one hour they practice what is called a drill. This is their only preparation for war, and all they do is
march
around the fort on foot and sometimes ride the horses. They do not fire their guns. When I asked for instruction in this, I was told it was not necessary and a waste of bullets."

Gall's thick eyebrows leapt to his forehead. "They do not want you to know how to shoot a gun?"

"They seem not to care if any of their men can shoot or hit what they aim at. They think all they have to do is ride into our camps and frighten us away like scared women and children."

At this, the entire council broke into boisterous laughter.

When ordered was restored, Jacob jackknifed to his feet and motioned for the rest to remain seated. "I must leave and return to the fort now before the soldiers discover my trick and accuse me of taking what they call a French leave."

All nodded farewell and murmured good luck prayers, but none except the chief rose to join Jacob at the entry flap. Gall drew his ceremonial buffalo robe around his shoulders and stepped into the chill night air. "Then all goes well with you, my son? There is nothing more you wish to discuss?"

Walking beside him, his head bowed, Jacob said, "Perhaps next time I will have more news. Their chief, Custer, is due to return to the fort in less than one moon. I will know more about their plans then."

"And nothing else troubles you?"

Again he lied.
"Nothing."

Too perceptive to ignore his instincts, Gall persisted as they approached the tethered horses. "What of the Long Knives' women, my son? Do they offer relief, or are the rumors we hear true? Do white women favor their men only for the purpose of breeding?"

Squatting, Jacob removed the buckskin thongs from
Sampi's
hooves. Then he rose and shrugged. "I do not know. The soldiers have not spoken to me about this part of their lives. What I have learned is that some of them go to a small building across the river and trade their coins to women in return for relief. This is where I will say I have been should I be discovered upon my return."

"Perhaps you should stop and take your relief here. Spotted Feather longs for you."