To Dream Anew (2 page)

But what if the dream was a forewarning? Didn’t God do things like that? Joseph was warned in a dream to take Mary and Jesus and escape Herod. Other people in the Bible had dreams that helped them to survive.

But this dream offered no promise of hope. It only showed complete destruction. Dianne shuddered again and Luke stopped nursing, looking up as if to ask what the problem was.

“Oh, my sweet baby boy,” she said, stroking back his tawny hair. “I pray it was only a bad dream and nothing more.” He gurgled and smiled in response.

Dianne laughed, but the joy was only momentary. Prayer would see her through the day, but hard times were coming. Gus, their foreman, said the winds were blowing up a change, and frankly, Dianne wasn’t at all sure she liked the sounds of it.

Later that morning Dianne and Faith made jam. It promised to be a hot day, so they hurried to get the task out of the way before the sun would make everything unbearable.

Faith’s children, Mercy and Daniel, played quietly in the corner while Luke slept in the front sitting room. Faith rubbed her bulging abdomen and smiled.

“This one sure is a kicker. Can’t hardly see how we’ll make it to October. I’m bettin’ this baby comes early.”

Dianne shook her head. “Each time has been different, hasn’t it?”

Faith nodded and re-secured a red bandanna around her head. “Guess carrying babies is as different as the babies themselves. Leastwise it’s been that way for me.”

“My mama indicated the same thing,” Dianne said, remembering her mother’s words, “although she did say they all had one thing in common.”

“What was that?” Faith asked, giving Dianne a curious look.

“She said they all wore her out.”

Faith laughed and stirred the cooking jam. “That’s true enough. But it’s a joyous burden to bear, don’t you agree?”

Dianne did agree. She loved little Luke more than she could express in words, and she looked forward to having more children. She wanted a whole houseful—like it was when she was growing up.

“Mmm, smells good in here,” Cole said as he came through the back door. “Any coffee left?”

“Now, Cole Selby,” Faith began in a scolding manner, “you know there’s always coffee to be had in this house.”

He grinned. “Well, there’s always the chance it could run out.”

“Maybe when that strawberry roan of yours sprouts wings and flies,” Faith said, putting down the spoon to get a cup of coffee for Cole.

“I think maybe that roan did grow wings,” Dianne teased. “At least it sure seemed Cole was flying pretty high yesterday when that beast finally managed to let loose of him.”

“Now, if you’re not going to be nice to me,” Cole began, “I won’t tell you the surprise.”

Dianne noted the amusement that danced in his expression.

“What surprise?”

“We’re going to Bozeman City for the Fourth of July celebration. We’ll leave in a few days.”

“Truly?” Dianne questioned. This would allow her to get over to Fort Ellis and see if there was any word from her brother’s regiment. Not only that, but the festivities might be precisely the thing to get her mind off of her worries.

“Truly.” He threw her a look that suggested he knew what she was thinking. “I figured we couldn’t be missing out on the country’s centennial celebration. A lot has happened in a hundred years. Lot’s happened in the last fifty years. Anyway, I also figured it’d be the easiest way to put our minds at ease. I’ll take you over to the fort first thing and we can ask about Zane.”

“There’s bound to be supplies we can pick up as well,” Faith offered.

“For sure. That town’s grown up quite a bit, and it’ll be interesting to see what all they’re offering.” Cole took a sip of his coffee. “We’ll take a couple of wagons and buy what we need. I’ve already talked to Malachi, and he’s pretty excited about making the trip.”

“You don’t think the trip would be too hard on Luke, do you?”

Faith answered before Cole had a chance. “That baby is made of tougher stuff than you give him credit for. He’ll be fine. The trip will probably do all of us good.”

“What about the ranch?” Dianne asked.

“Are you looking for excuses not to go?” Cole asked after downing the last of his coffee.

Dianne shook her head. “Not at all. I just wondered if you’d made provision for that matter.”

“You don’t see me as being very capable, do you?” He was smiling, but there was something serious in his tone.

“I know you’re capable,” Dianne said, trying to choose her words carefully. “I just didn’t know if you’d thought this through or if it was more one of those whimsical things.”

“I’m hardly known for whimsy,” Cole stated matter-of-factly. “We’ll leave a small crew to keep an eye on things, but I figure this is a good way to cut the boys loose and give them some time away from the ranch. They’ll enjoy the holiday and help us get things freighted back here afterward.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan to me,” Faith said, lifting the heavy kettle from the stove and placing it on the wooden counter. “This is ready to strain.”

“I’d better get back to work,” Cole said, putting the coffee cup in the sink.

Once he’d gone, Faith turned to Dianne. “He’s a good man, you know. You can trust him to think things through. Besides, Gus isn’t going to let him make a bad decision.”

Dianne shrugged, knowing she’d been careless with her words. “Cole hasn’t been doing this very long. I worry he’ll overlook things.”

“And if he does, he’ll make that mistake only once. We learn from our mistakes,” Faith said in a motherly tone. “Least we do if we’re allowed to make them.”

Dianne sighed. “Sometimes it’s hard to let him have free rein. I guess because of working with Uncle Bram for so long, I feel like this place needs my attention.”

“You’ve had these issues before. You’ve struggled with trusting Cole to do his job on other occasions.”

Dianne shook her head. “It’s not a matter of trust, but rather training.” She always justified it this way to herself. Cole often did things differently from Uncle Bram, and it made her nervous. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Cole capable, but only that he might not realize why things were done a certain way, and end up causing them more trouble than help.

“You worry too much.”

“That she does,” Koko announced as she came into the room.

“Well, I simply feel that Uncle Bram gave me a responsibility to see to this ranch and its success.”

“But he’d also want you to relax and let others do the jobs they are capable of. Cole is a good man, the same as Bram was. He’ll make wise decisions.”

“Cole’s planning for us to go to Bozeman for the Fourth of July celebration. Will you bring the children and come too?” Dianne asked, hoping to divert the discussion.

Koko shook her head. “I don’t think so. With all the Indian trouble, it would probably be wise for me to remain here. No sense causing anyone to be uncomfortable.”

“I wouldn’t worry about making the townsfolk uncomfortable,” Dianne declared as she helped Faith with the jelly jars. She was glad to have the focus off of her treatment of Cole.

“I wasn’t so much worried about the townsfolk,” Koko admitted. “I didn’t want the children hurt.”

Dianne thought of nine-year-old Jamie and six-year-old Susannah. Both children bore some of their mother’s features, although each were more white than Blackfoot. Society surely wouldn’t see them that way, however, and Koko was right about the tensions and ugly attitudes toward those with Indian blood.

“Well, what can we bring you back?” Dianne finally said, knowing that she couldn’t make the situation right. She met her aunt’s expression and offered a smile.

Koko nodded as if sharing unspoken information with her niece. “There are several things we could use. I’ll make a list for you before you go.”

The smell of something rotten and foul was the first thing that caught their attention.

Colonel Gibbon’s forces moved forward to join up with George Armstrong Custer’s ranks along the Little Big Horn River. Their objective was to quell the Sioux and Cheyenne and see them returned to their reservation to the east, but the smell and deadly silence distressed every member of the regiment.

Zane felt a chill run up his spine. The sensation did nothing to ease his fears. For days there had been rumors and disconcerting messages from his superiors. One infantryman had come to tell them that some of Custer’s Indian scouts had been found. They spoke of a horrible battle in which every soldier was annihilated, but surely that couldn’t be true.

On the other hand, he heard more than one man complain that they were heading out on another wild goose chase, and just as the first thought didn’t ring true, Zane didn’t feel this to be an accurate statement either.

Sweat dampened his skin and ran a stream down his face. He could feel it slip beneath his collar, leaving him sticky and uncomfortable. The temperatures were near the one hundred mark. Funny how that at the first of the month they had marched in snow. Most of it hadn’t lasted much longer than it had taken to fall from the sky and hit the ground, but in places the white powder had accumulated. Zane tried hard to remember how he’d hunkered down in his wool coat chilled to the bone, but it was no use. The heat of late June now threatened to bake him alive.

He could see in the faces of his comrades that he wasn’t the only one to bear the harsh elements in discomfort. The dust and sweat made striping streaks on the faces of the soldiers, almost as if they had painted their faces Indian style, for war. Especially those in the infantry. They marched long hours in the dust. Day after day they walked in a cloud of their own making, then struggled at the end of the day to scrape the earth from their bodies.

Zane knew their misery. Infantry life had never really agreed with him. Now, however, as a newly appointed lieutenant, he was at least given the choice of riding if he wanted. Some officers rode, others did not. Zane was known to be a good hand with a horse—his background on the Diamond V preceded his transfer into Colonel Gibbon’s forces. The ranch was a good provider for army horseflesh, and his superiors seemed bent on keeping Zane happy, lest the supply be cut off.

The horses were acting strange, and that, coupled with the awful stench, made everyone uneasy. They would probably come up on a buffalo jump or some other place where a mass butchering had taken place. The smell of death always made the horses nervous. Zane tried to calm his mount, but the animal continued side-stepping, as if to avoid what was ahead.

Without warning, a pale-faced rider came flying over the ridge. His horse was lathered from the strain, and the man appeared to barely keep his seat on the animal. Zane’s horse reared slightly and whinnied loudly as the rider came to a stop not far from where Colonel Gibbon sat atop his own mount.

The man, really no more than a boy, leaned over the side of his horse and lost the contents of his stomach. The action took everyone by surprise. Without looking up, the man pointed behind him and shook his head. The words seemed stuck in his throat.

“What is it? What did you find?” Gibbon asked impatiently.

“They’re dead, sir. Custer. His men. Every last soldier—dead.”

CHAPTER
2

A
ND SO THEY WERE.

Zane could only stare in dumbfounded silence at the bleached and bloated bodies of men who were once soldiers.
Where was God when Custer and his men met this fate?

Scenes from the Baker Massacre, where the slaughter of the Blackfoot tribe took place some six years earlier, came back to haunt him.
Where was God then?

Zane could scarcely draw a breath. The scene was unreal, too horrible to even allow the images to settle in his mind. Burial duties were all that was left them now. There was no great battle in which to prove their bravery or manhood. Bravery this day was shown by the ability to witness the massacre at the Little Big Horn and not give in to insanity.

“Sir, how could this have happened?” the raspy voice of one of his newer recruits asked. The man paused in his construction of a litter for the wounded as Zane stepped closer.

Zane looked to the man and shook his head. “I suppose it was bound to happen.”