Elaine Barbieri (8 page)

Spotted Bear looked toward the great open landscape where Shadow Walker and the girl had disappeared from sight days earlier. Shadow Walker had not confided to anyone where he was taking her. Nor had he said when he would return.

Spotted Bear’s jaw locked tight. He wanted the girl. Her face haunted dreams where he proved her master. He had resolved to have her.

Reaching the grassy hillside, Spotted Bear approached his grazing mount slowly. Throwing his rope over the animal’s head, he mounted and turned back to camp. He would take the necessities for a few days’ travel. It would not be long before he found Shadow Walker’s trail, and then caught up with him. The girl would be his—one way or another.

The afternoon sun grew hotter. The trail grew more wild. Thirsty and footsore, Miranda followed Shadow Walker as he continued his steady progress toward an unknown destination. Shadow Walker had stopped earlier at a stream to water the horses. He did not speak when she caught up to them and crouched by the stream to drink, while concealing as best she could a thirst that had become unbearable.

Strangely, the anxious growling of her stomach had ceased. That small circumstance had allowed her to retain her pride as Shadow Walker had eaten the jerky which she had once disdained, and which she wished desperately to taste again.

Shadow Walker glanced back unexpectedly. Miranda averted her gaze, simultaneously thrusting her chin a notch higher, determined to refuse Shadow Walker satisfaction at her distress.

But her defenses were weakening, just as she was weakening. She was hungry … thirsty … tired, and she was uncertain how much longer she would be able to walk on bare feet that were already raw and aching.

Intensely aware of the slight figure stumbling behind him, Shadow Walker directed his attention back to the trail ahead. He recalled his annoyance when he first realized that his captive was female. He remembered that he had
thought her a child and dismissed her from his mind, believing her worthy only of serving Rattling Blanket, whose limbs grew weaker with age. He remembered his anger when the girl had defied him, and then his growing, if reluctant, admiration for her fiery spirit. But it was the girl’s admirable spirit that was presently her undoing, for as she clung to her stubborn defiance, she refused to open her mind to the error of the ways she embraced.

The girl gasped and Shadow Walker turned spontaneously toward her. Momentarily unaware of his scrutiny, she limped, grimacing with pain, and Shadow Walker’s stomach clenched tight. He had eaten, knowing she was hungry. He had drunk, knowing she was thirsty. He had ridden in comfort, knowing her feet were battered and sore. Yet the girl had brought those circumstances upon herself—just as her people had brought upon themselves the wrath of the Cheyenne.

Suddenly angry, Shadow Walker remembered the girl’s adamant declaration.

You’re the enemy.

Shadow Walker considered that thought.

Yes, he was.

“Washington is making a mistake, sir.”

Major Thurston looked up at Lieutenant Hill where the adamant officer stood at attention in front of his desk. Hill had entered his office minutes earlier, his face reddened
from a full day on patrol. He had made his report, indicating that his patrol had found no further sign of either the Cheyenne or Miranda. Hill had then burst out with the statement that had caught his attention where the disappointing report had not.

At the major’s silence, Hill continued, “If you’ll excuse my bluntness, sir, the entire fort knows the contents of the wire you received yesterday.”

“It appears, Lieutenant, that the entire fort knew the contents of the wire before it was put into my hand.”

“The men were shocked, sir. They feel that Washington is too detached from the situation on the frontier to direct action here properly.”

Frowning, Major Thurston stood up slowly. Hill was an aggressive officer, an academy graduate, but Major Thurston’s initial opinion of the man’s dedication to duty had continued to deteriorate. Growing rapidly was the thought that Hill’s convictions were so strong and his hatred of the Indians so extreme that his judgment could be affected.

That fear expanded rapidly as Hill continued, “Sir, the men feel as do I, that the situation with the Cheyenne is a direct result of Washington’s blunder in trying to placate the Indians.”

“I believe I’ve already reminded you that it’s not our place to second-guess Washington, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, it’s
your
daughter the Cheyenne are holding.”

Anger flaring, the major responded, “I don’t need you
to remind me of that, Lieutenant.”

“She’s been in the hands of those Indians for a long time.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that there’s not a man in the fort who wouldn’t stand behind you if you led this command to the nearest Cheyenne village right now, to show every one of the Indians there what will happen to their tribe if they don’t return your daughter.”

“Lieutenant …”

“There’s not a man in the fort who’ll contradict your word when inquiries are made, if you tell General Morton you never received his wire.”

“That’s out of the question, Lieutenant.” Controlling his reaction to Hill’s alarming proposal, Major Thurston continued, “As concerned as I am about my daughter, I will not do anything that might inflame the Cheyenne into taking retribution on Miranda.”

“You’re making the same mistake Washington’s making.”

“I don’t intend to remind you again that you’re overstepping your bounds, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, the Cheyenne have looted, murdered, raped—”

“That’s enough! I can list the depredations that the Cheyenne have committed as well as you can, but that doesn’t give me leave to subvert the orders of my superiors.”

“Sir, the Indians are a menace. It’s our duty to stamp
them out in any way we can.”

“Lieutenant!”

Hill’s narrow face flushed. He sharpened his military stance as the major continued, “I choose to forget what you’ve said to me just now. I’ll forget because I, above all, realize that the stress of our present situation here at Fort Walters is responsible for thinking that might not otherwise be considered by responsible men. I advise you to remember, however, that despite your personal convictions, you are an officer in the US Army and you are subject to your sworn oath to obey the commands of your superiors. I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

“You have, sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Standing motionless for long moments after Lieutenant Hill left the room, Major Thurston then looked down at the neatly written document on his desk. He had composed his Resignation of Command with meticulous care the previous day. All that remained was to affix his signature.

The major picked up the sheet, then crushed it between his palms and tossed it into the wastebasket No, resignation wasn’t the answer. Lieutenant Hill’s attitude toward the Cheyenne was prevalent on the frontier. Should his replacement share it, it could result only in endangering Miranda even further—or possibly cause more bloodshed
than his conscience could abide.

Angered by his helplessness, Major Thurston then spat a curse at the loss of another day without finding Miranda.

Lieutenant Hill strode down the walkway after leaving Major Thurston’s office. Incensed at having been dismissed for the second time by his commanding officer, he was unaware of the scrutiny of troopers nearby as he wondered what kind of man would allow his daughter to remain in the hands of savages without taking direct action to get her back.

There was only one conclusion he could reach: Thurston was a coward.

Hill considered that judgment. It was not as if he had approved of Miranda Thurston and her cavalier attitude toward the rules of the fort. Thinking back, he recalled the girl’s arrogant defiance of her father at every turn. He had known that had it been his daughter who had rebelled so consistently, the outcome would have been far different from the fleeting anger Thurston exhibited. In truth, he supposed the girl had gotten only what she deserved—but the thought of a white woman in the hands of the Cheyenne raised a murderous fury within him.

The memory of being officially reprimanded for his treatment of the Indians shortly after his arrival on the frontier—by an Indian-loving superior who had upbraided and humiliated him in front of the entire company—
haunted Hill. The knowledge that the incident had resulted in the first blemish on his formerly spotless record raised a blood rage in him that he knew would never cool.

“Lieutenant?”

Hill turned toward the gruff voice beside him to see Sergeant Wallace, his jowled face composed in a frown as he waited for permission to speak. Aware of the need to regain control of his emotions, Hill paused before responding, “What is it, Sergeant?”

“The other fellas and me … well, we was wondering—” His scowl darkening, Wallace continued with sudden fervor, “We was wondering when the major was going to let us go out and teach them Cheyenne bastards a lesson!”

Hill scrutinized the burly sergeant silently. The man was common and uneducated, as were most of the cavalrymen in this remote, frontier outpost. Hill responded, “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Sir?”

“Major Thurston is content to wait until Washington gives him permission to take aggressive action against the Cheyenne.”

“What about his daughter? Don’t he care?”

“It seems Major Thurston is a soldier first and a father second.”

“That ain’t natural. Hell, there ain’t a man at this fort that ain’t itchin’ to go out after them Cheyenne and
make
them tell what they did with the girl.”

“I know, Sergeant.” Adding a note of confidentiality to his tone, Hill continued, “Very honestly, I’m disappointed in the major. I never thought to see him exhibit recreant behavior.”

“Yeah … ah … neither did I.”

“But you can take heart in this, Sergeant. I’m awaiting my opportunity. When it comes, you may be sure that you and the others will get the chance you’re waiting for to show the Cheyenne what you’re made of—what we’re
all
made of.”

Gratified to see by the sergeant’s expression that he had hit exactly the right note to put himself in a favorable light, Hill added, “And you can also be sure I’ll let you know the minute the opportunity presents itself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

His spirits partially restored, Hill continued on down the walkway. He did not see Wallace frown as he walked back to the men standing a distance away. Nor did he know that Wallace’s first question to them was, “Do any of you boys know what ‘recreant behavior’ means?”

“Hell, no!”

“Not me.”

“Never heard of it.”

Wallace nodded. Well, he guessed he never would find out.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The long day continued. The hours had held untold silent agitation for Shadow Walker as he continued riding across the wild terrain with the girl staggering visibly behind. The distance between them continued to lengthen as the sun began a slow descent into the horizon. He knew Miranda’s strength was failing and her distress grew greater with every step, yet she had spoken not a word of complaint.

Shadow Walker rode forward, knowing he had no recourse—that to show mercy at this time would be considered weakness, and all that had already passed would have been suffered for naught.

A slope of terrain and a shaded area where he had camped many times before came into view in the distance and relief swept Shadow Walker’s senses. With great difficulty he restrained the inclination to increase his pace, knowing that to do so would leave the girl too far behind.

Consoling himself that the day’s ordeal was nearly over, Shadow Walker pressed on.

The sun would set soon, and then they would stop. That thought driving her on, Miranda forced one
foot ahead of the other.

Halting briefly, she raised her head toward the cloudless sky. Suddenly the buzzing insects were no longer a torment and the pain in her feet was fading. A strange darkness was rapidly encroaching, taking her with it to a plane where she rose above discomfort—where she was no longer hungry or thirsty, and where the sun no longer burned her skin.