Elaine Barbieri (18 page)

Father.

Suddenly breathless, a tremulous smile on her lips, Miranda struggled to maintain control of her emotions. She had missed him so much. She needed her father to know she was all right. She needed to see him smile. She needed to hear him say he forgave her for the anxiety she had caused him. She needed—

Turning, Miranda saw Shadow Walker looking back at her, his eyes dark with an emotion she dared not name.

Shadow Walker turned away from her abruptly,
and Miranda’s thoughts stopped cold. Tears welling, she
realized
that she had lost him.

And her heart was broken.

The anger seething within Lieutenant Hill came to full, virulent life as the Cheyenne delegation came into view. Turning briefly for a malicious glance at Red Shirt, he then snapped a short command, detached himself from his position, and spurred his mount out of the military column. He rode boldly toward a nearby wooded expanse where he then waited, concealed from view, while his thoughts revolved in heated retrospect.

His career was over—and it wasn’t his fault! He had done only what any self-respecting officer in the service of his country would do. He had identified the enemy and had sought to crush it. He would have succeeded, too, if not for a cowardly frontier hierarchy that refused to take necessary action and sought to make him its scapegoat.

Glancing at the mounted column continuing its advance, Hill sneered. A peaceful exchange was a joke that no one appeared to appreciate but him. Why couldn’t they all see the truth? Why didn’t they realize that as soon as Red Shirt was exchanged for the girl and skirted back to safety, the Cheyenne would attack again, that they’d keep on attacking until the frontier ran red with blood—all while his promising career lay in tatters and he was forced
to return home a failure?

Shaking with barely controlled fury, Hill gave a caustic laugh. No, that wouldn’t happen. He had already arranged for the inevitable to occur a little earlier than the Cheyenne had planned—and he had made provisions for what would follow.

Seeking out Major Thurston’s figure where he rode at the head of the army contingent, Hill muttered, “Fool … enjoy your moment. It won’t last much longer.”

As if in response to that thought, the sound of hoofbeats from the rear turned Hill toward Sergeant Wallace as he reined up beside him. Quizzing the burly sergeant sharply, Hill snapped, “Where’s the rest of the scouting patrol? They don’t know you came here to meet me, do they?”

“No, sir! I hand-picked Higgins, Blake, Madison, and Carter for the patrol because they’re young and green as grass. They were too stupid to suspect anything when I told them to go back to the column while I did a last sweep of the area.” Breathless with excitement, Sergeant Wallace continued in a rush, “And I know one thing for sure—no Cheyenne will ever forget what happened today.”

Hill pressed, “You checked your rifle?”

“I sure did.”

“It’s important that you know when to fire—when the exchange is being effected and both prisoners are out in clear view.”

“I won’t miss him. That Red Shirt ain’t going back to his tribe alive, and that’s a promise.”

“Get going, then.” Hill motioned toward a rise opposite the waiting Cheyenne. “That’s the perfect spot. You can find yourself enough cover over there so no one will ever know where the shot came from.”

“You can count on me, sir. Red Shirt’s as good as dead right now.”

Wallace spurred his mount into motion.

Watching Wallace’s retreating figure until it disappeared from sight, Lieutenant Hill then mumbled in reply, “And no one will ever know where
my
shot came from, Wallace … not even you.”

A steadfast presence at White Horse’s side, Shadow Walker held himself rigidly erect as the approaching military contingent came to a halt, allowing a discreet distance between the opposing delegations. Searching the ranks, Shadow Walker saw Red Shirt mounted tall and proud, and a deep satisfaction registered within him. He then turned his attention to the bearded officer who led the mounted column and assessed him coldly. He saw no resemblance to Miranda in the man’s graying hair and dark eyes, nor in the strong features that contrasted so sharply with Miranda’s delicate countenance.

The Indian agent familiar to Black Hand approached as Shadow Walker scrutinized Major Thurston more closely.
He saw Thurston scan the Cheyenne force. He noted the moment when Thurston saw Miranda, and he felt the jolt that shook him.

Shadow Walker’s jaw locked tight. So, a father would regain a daughter and the Cheyenne would regain a brave warrior—a fair exchange that raised an abrupt, familiar anger within him. Miranda had been his captive, but he knew now that she had never been
his
as he had believed her to be. He had shared his dreams and his heart with her. He had pledged his love and had believed she had done the same—but he had been wrong. He had been unaware of the distance that had remained between them even while she was in his arms—a distance that Miranda had concealed from him.

Forcing his attention back to Tom Edwards as the Indian agent conversed with White Horse in the Cheyenne tongue, Shadow Walker raised his chin with new determination. He had surrendered Miranda to the tribe—a bitter necessity—as bitter as the necessity now to turn her out of his heart.

Sweeping the rear of the military column with his gaze, Private Will Blake turned with a frown toward the youthful soldier riding beside him. Shaking his head, he said, “Sergeant Wallace hasn’t returned to the column yet. I don’t like this. He said he was going to take a last look around and then join us here. Something’s wrong.”

“You worry too much, Willy,” his fellow trooper responded. “We scouted the whole area like Major Thurston wanted. There wasn’t any sign of them Cheyenne trying to pull a fast one. The sarge was just being careful with that last sweep, that’s all.”

Turning his mount out of the column abruptly, Blake grated, “It’s not the Cheyenne I’m worrying about.”

“Hey, where are you going?”

The shouted inquiry rang behind him as Blake spurred his mount into a gallop.

Breathing heavily, Lieutenant Hill drew back on his mount’s reins in the shadows of a wooded copse. He squinted in the direction of Tom Edwards where the Indian agent continued his conversation with White Horse.

That’s it. Keep talking. I need a little more time.

Dismounting, Hill glanced around him, then drew his rifle from its sheath on the saddle. He smiled, aware that at that very moment Wallace was concealed on the hillside opposite him, readying his rifle, too. He enjoyed the thought of the moment to come when the two hostages would meet in neutral territory between the Cheyenne and the military column. The shots would be unexpected—two shots ringing almost simultaneously—coming out of nowhere.

The chaos would be instantaneous when both Red
Shirt
and the girl
fell dead.

Barely controlling his eagerness, Hill raised his rifle to his eye and set his sights on the girl as she and Red Shirt were brought up from the opposing ranks into clear view. Thurston would be devastated by his daughter’s death! He would believe the shot was fired by a Cheyenne, for
certainly,
none of his own people would commit such a horrendous deed. Thurston’s desire for revenge against the savages would erase forever from his mind any thought about transferring a lieutenant who had done nothing more than warn him about the Cheyenne’s barbarism.

His finger on the trigger, Hill watched the exchange with bated breath. White Horse nodded his acceptance of Edwards’s words and the girl was released. Riding slowly, she started toward the military contingent as Red Shirt was also released and began riding back to the Cheyenne.

A few more seconds … when they were in unrestricted view …

An ache inside him deepening to the point of pain, Shadow Walker watched Miranda as the exchange began. Her chin high and her gaze straight ahead, she started toward the military contingent. Glancing across the neutral space, he saw Red Shirt riding toward them, and the pain within became bittersweet.

The two hostages approached each other, their horses’ hoofbeats echoing in the strained silence. Shadow Walker
watched Miranda’s retreating figure—the set of her narrow shoulders, the gleam of her hair, the—

A glint of sunlight on metal flashed in the wooded glade nearby and Shadow Walker was instantly alert. It flashed again, pinpointing the location of a crouched figure concealed there. Shadow Walker saw a rifle raised. From the angle of trajectory, it could be aimed at no one but … Miranda!

Spurring his mount forward, Shadow Walker raced into the neutral breach between Miranda and the rifle. Shouts reverberated in the back of his mind as he neared Miranda’s side, as he reached for her at the same moment that shots rang out and a hot burst of pain exploded in his back.

The world suddenly slowing around him, Shadow Walker saw Miranda’s eyes widen with shocked incredulity when the bullet struck him. The chaos around him droned to a whining din as she was snatched from her horse by a uniformed figure, and Shadow Walker felt himself slipping from his mount to fall heavily into the darkness that claimed him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“It was all a mistake, Father, a terrible mistake!”

Shaken, Miranda faced her father where he sat behind his desk, his expression grave. Two days had elapsed since that horrendous moment on the wilderness terrain when the world had erupted into the violence and turmoil of gunfire, shouts, and flashing sabers.

Still incredulous, Miranda had relived the stunning events over and over again in her mind. She remembered being brought up from the rear of the Cheyenne contingent to White Horse’s side. Refusing to meet Shadow Walker’s gaze, unwilling to suffer the accusation she knew she would view there, she had kept her eyes straightforward and her chin high. At a signal from White Horse, she had started toward the military column as Red Shirt had emerged from the soldiers’ ranks and started in her direction. She remembered that the silence as Red Shirt and she began the exchange had rung hollowly in her mind.

She wasn’t sure what had happened next, except that Shadow Walker had broken from the Cheyenne contingent and started toward her at a gallop. She recalled glimpsing true fear in his eyes the moment before he reached her
side—the moment before he was struck by the bullet meant for her.

Everything happened so quickly then. She was snatched off her horse by her father’s strong arm and carried back to safety as Shadow Walker fell to the ground, a bloody circle widening on his back. Crying out, she had struggled to be released so she could go to him, but the violent ensuing conflict obscured him from view. Still protesting wildly, she was dragged to the rear of the military ranks and restrained there as the short, turbulent conflict ended abruptly in confused retreat.

Haunting her in the time since was the image of Shadow Walker’s limp body being thrown across his mount and carried away by the withdrawing Cheyenne.

Miranda struggled against the lump in her throat that the image evoked. Her father walked around the desk to her side as she rasped, “It shouldn’t have happened!”

“But it did, Miranda.” His expression pained, Major Thurston brushed a gold strand back from her cheek, continuing softly, “Tom Edwards is already in contact with Black Hand. He thinks it’ll be a while before the Cheyenne will trust us enough to parley again.”

“But you know the truth now. You can explain that Red Shirt was fired upon by a renegade soldier—that Sergeant Wallace was planning to kill Red Shirt, but Private Blake became suspicious about Wallace’s absence
from the column and went looking for him—that Private Blake reached Wallace in time to spoil his shot. You can tell the Cheyenne that Sergeant Wallace admitted Lieutenant Hill put him up to it, and Lieutenant Hill will be brought up on charges as soon as he’s found.”

His bearded jaw hardening, Major Thurston replied, “Hill obviously panicked in the confusion after his shot hit Shadow Walker instead of you. That’s the only reason I can figure for the way he inadvertently revealed his location, then took off on the run. Otherwise, it would’ve been Wallace’s word against his. We’ll find him, though. There aren’t too many places for a man like Hill to hide on the frontier.”

“I don’t care about Lieutenant Hill.” Miranda took a step closer to her father. Grateful when his arms closed around her to hold her comfortingly close, she whispered, “I need to know what happened to Shadow Walker.”

Major Thurston’s voice grew pained. “He’s a Cheyenne, Miranda.”

“I won’t be able to rest until I know he’s all right.”

“He’s the one who captured you. None of this would’ve happened if not for him.”

“He saved my life.”

“But that doesn’t change what he did.”

“I can’t live with not knowing how he is, Father. I … we …”

Major Thurston’s gaze searched hers when Miranda
was
unable to continue. Frowning he said, “I’ll ask Tom Edwards to make some inquiries. It’ll take a while, but he’ll find out.”

“I need to know
now
.”