To Find You Again (33 page)

"There should be."

"Maybe you'll think of something."

Sarah met her gaze squarely, her chin raised. "Maybe I will."

Pride flared in Emma at her younger sister's new maturity. Sarah had even begun questioning their father's dictates.

After one last look at the somber camp, Emma flicked the reins over the horse's rump. She thought of Talutah and Fast Elk, but the images were from seven years ago. They had no children left to repeat their stories nor remember them, except Emma and Chayton.

"Do you remember the story Grandmother used to tell you of White Buffalo Woman, Chayton?" she asked her son.

His dark eyes lit with excitement and nodded. "Tell again?"

"Many, many summers ago, two young warriors went hunting because the People were starving. A beautiful woman dressed in white buckskin approached them. Now one of those men thought bad thoughts about her, but the other one thought she was holy," Emma began.

Both Chayton and Sarah listened intently to the story of how the holy woman brought the Lakota the sacred Buffalo Calf Pipe and instructed the People in the ways to pray to Wakan Tanka. Emma described how the holy woman rolled four times as she walked away from the village, and how she turned into a black buffalo, then a brown one and a red one, and finally a white female buffalo calf. And after she was gone, great buffalo herds appeared to give the People food and clothing and everything they needed to live.

"That's beautiful," Sarah said when Emma was done.

"It is, isn't it?" Emma swept her hand across her eyes. "It's part of Chayton's legacy and I want to make sure he knows the Lakota teachings, and learns how to read and write in my world."

Sarah brushed a strand of hair from Chayton's forehead. "I'd like to learn more about the Indians, too."

Emma smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but a rider in the distance caught her attention. She watched as the horse drew nearer, until she could make out an Indian mounted on the pony. Frowning, she eased back on the reins and halted the buggy.

"Do you know him?" Sarah asked.

The brave's face grew clearer and Emma worried her lower lip. "It's Hotah. He's from the village Ridge and I stayed at."

"Why isn't he on the reservation?"

"He was banished the day before it happened."

Hotah stopped his horse close to the buggy, his dark face impassive but his gaze raking up and down both Emma and Sarah.

"What are you doing here?" Emma asked in Lakota, hoping he couldn't hear the frantic beating of her heart.

Hotah narrowed his eyes. "I have come for Chayton."

Emma instinctively shifted to shield Chayton from Hotah's possessive gaze. "He is my son."

"I will teach him to be a warrior so he may ride with his people."

"No. He stays with me. With
my
people."

Although Sarah didn't understand the words, she comprehended the tone and wrapped an arm around Chayton's waist, holding him snugly against her side.

"He is one of the People," Hotah said, his nostrils flaring.

"He is also white." Although trembling on the inside, Emma met his gaze. "Leave us, Hotah."

His lips curled in a sneer and he pressed his horse closer to Emma. He grabbed her wrist. "Chayton is Lakota. I will take him and join Crazy Horse."

"No!" Emma twisted to escape his grip, but his fingers dug into her skin cruelly.

"Let her go!" Sarah shouted.

Hotah glared at Sarah.

The sound of galloping hooves
startled
Emma and Hotah released her. He leaned close. "He is not yours. I
will
have him." Then he kicked his horse's flanks, escaping as the other rider neared.

Emma's heart pounded against her ribs and her breath came in stuttered gasps. She didn't know if she was more angry or frightened. Blinking, she focused on the arrival who was dressed in black trousers and a gray shirt, with a wool vest.

"Miss Hartwell, are you and your son all right?"
the blond man asked.

Emma nodded, recognizing him as Ridge's cavalry captain friend out of uniform. "Yes, thank you, Captain Rivers," she said stiffly. She couldn't forget nor forgive what he'd done to her Lakota friends.

Captain Rivers looked at Sarah. "How about you, ma'am?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she murmured.

"Who was that?" Rivers asked Emma.

"He lived in the village you attacked," Emma answered tartly.

The man's jaw muscle clenched. "What did he want?"

"Chayton."

"Your son?"

Emma nodded, the fear expanding once more. Her fingernails dug into her palms. "What're you doing here?"

Rivers placed his crossed wrists on his saddle horn and grinned. "I was just out for a ride."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Why don't I believe you?"

He shrugged indolently. "Believe what you want, Miss Hartwell." His gaze flickered over Sarah and back to Emma. "What're you doing out here?"

"We were visiting friends."

"Talutah?"

The name brought a rush of fresh grief. "She's—" Emma glanced at Chayton "—passed away."

Rivers shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Ridge told me how much she meant to you."

"Maybe it's better this way," Emma said quietly, then had to ask, "Why did you release Pony Cullen?"

"I didn't. Colonel Nyes wouldn't hold him on my word and released him."

"He's a murderer!"

"You don't have to convince me, but it wasn't up to me." Captain Rivers's face became as hard as granite.

Emma searched his features for a sign of deception, but there was only cool anger. It was obvious Rivers didn't agree with the colonel, which meant he and Ridge hadn't deceived her. The captain had planned on prosecuting Cullen.

"Thank you for your assistance, Captain Rivers," Emma said with more warmth.

"My pleasure. If you don't mind, I'd like to ride alongside for a little while."

Although Emma wasn't certain about his motives, she did see the wisdom in his suggestion. "We don't mind."

Rivers touched the brim of his hat and moved to Sarah's side of the buggy. As they traveled down the rutted road, Rivers made small talk with Sarah and Chayton, allowing Emma to ponder her own thoughts.

Chapter 20

It was early afternoon when Emma caught sight of Sunset. She halted the buggy and Chayton, who'd fallen asleep against Sarah's side, awakened. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. At that moment, he looked no different than any other sleepy child, white or Indian.

"Would you like to see a town?" Emma suddenly asked.

"Emma," Sarah spoke up. "We can't."

"Why not?" Although Emma's suggestion had been impulsive, she found herself wanting to defy all those people who felt it was their right to judge. What did they know of her experience with the Lakota? For that matter, what did any of them know about Indians, besides what they'd read in dime novels and newspaper articles that were meant to shock and titillate?

"Your sister's right," Captain Rivers said seriously. "Folks here won't like having a half-breed boy shoved in their faces."

"We're hardly shoving anybody in anyone's face," Emma retorted coldly. "Women bring their children into town all the time."

Sarah folded her hands in her lap and remained silent.

"What's a town?" Chayton asked, oblivious to the adults' undercurrents.

She pointed to the gathering of buildings half a mile away. "That's a town, where the whites—we—gather to buy food and supplies, and attend dances and socials."

Chayton's blank expression made Emma smile. She gave him a one-armed hug as she looked at Sarah and Captain Rivers. "Gertrude has known us ever since we were children. We could eat lunch there."

"I still don't think it's a good idea," Rivers said skeptically.

Sarah's gaze jumped from Emma to the captain and back to her sister. Her backbone straightened. "I'll do whatever you decide."

Emma's stomach fluttered. Now that she actually thought about it, she was uncertain. She peered at Chayton, noticing the excitement in his expression as he stared at the town.

Taking a deep breath, she hiyahed the sorrel and steered it around the edge of the town to enter on the side closest to Gertrude's restaurant. She wished Ridge were with her instead of Captain Rivers. Ridge's presence calmed her, made her feel as if nothing could harm her, including words.

People paused on the boardwalk and stared at her and Chayton. Fortunately, the boy was too busy oohing and aahing the unfamiliar sights, but Emma noticed. So did Sarah and Captain Rivers.

She drew the buggy to a stop in front of the restaurant. She'd been coming here with her family since she was Chayton's age. Surely Gertrude would treat her decently.

The cavalry captain dismounted and assisted Sarah down from the buggy, then Chayton. Rivers walked around to her side since no one offered to help her. It wasn't because there was a shortage of men. Most of them were gaping at her—some with disgust, others with curiosity, and a small number of them with something akin to lust.

Bees buzzed in her belly, but Emma pasted a smile on her face. She thanked Captain Rivers and joined Chayton and Sarah on the boardwalk.

One woman standing in front of the restaurant swept her skirts aside so they wouldn't touch Emma or Chayton. Lifting her chin, Emma eyed her coolly until the woman looked away and whispered something to her companion.

The moment they stepped inside Emma realized she'd made a mistake. The interior grew silent and everyone stared at them as if they were part of a circus.

Gertrude met them at the door.

"I can't serve you in here, Emma," she said furtively.

"You've known me since I was a child," Emma argued.

Gertrude wrung her hands. "If it were up to me, I would do it, but if I serve you and your son, I'll lose business. Folks don't want his kind in here," she whispered as she deliberately looked down at Chayton.

"Thank you for your honesty, Gertrude," Emma said, her throat thick.

Emma, Sarah, and Chayton returned to their buggy, where Captain Rivers helped them into it. He placed Emma and Chayton in the backseat, then tied his horse's reins to the end of the buggy and joined Sarah in the front.

"Hungry," Chayton complained.

Relieved he hadn't noticed the disgust aimed at him, Emma wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "We'll eat when we get home."

Chayton pouted, but didn't fuss.

As Captain Rivers drove the buggy out of Sunset Emma stared down at her hands, which were the same hands she'd always had, and then looked at her laced-up shoes, skirt, blouse, and shawl. From the outside, she was the same as everyone else in town, yet a chasm of experience separated her from the others—experiences that made her different and alien. A stranger. She'd experienced the same sense of dispossession the second time she'd been among the Lakota, and even more so at the reservation.

With startling clarity, she realized it was only with Ridge that she felt like she belonged.

Ridge made it back to his place in six days. The bull had shed some weight with the rushed journey, but the animal could spend the rest of the spring and summer grazing and growing fat.

Once home, Ridge got the bull settled in its pen and the lean-to he'd built while waiting for Colt to return. He planned to comb the government-owned broken hills to the west for unbranded cattle to start his herd. Ridge hoped to use the open range since he didn't own enough land to graze them. If Hartwell hadn't bilked Ridge's stepfather out of his land, Ridge wouldn't need the open range.

By evening, Ridge was restless. Although it'd been a long day, he saddled Paint and rode into Sunset. He claimed a table in the saloon, ordered a thick steak, and a shot of whiskey with a glass of beer. As he waited for his supper, he sipped his beer, and it eased the burn of the stronger liquor. He listened to the muted conversations around him, ignoring most until he heard Emma Hartwell's name.

"I heard she came into town today with her half-breed boy. Gertrude threw her and her nit out of the restaurant."

Ridge recognized the man who spoke as the foreman from the Circle C, where he'd worked before taking off to find Emma. Sam Pesant was a fair man, treating all the hired hands, including Ridge, equally. It surprised Ridge that he was bandying around Emma Hartwell's name in a saloon like she was less than a lady.

Unable to stop himself, Ridge leaned his chair back and said to Pesant, "Miss Hartwell know you're spreading rumors about her?"

The foreman turned toward Ridge and his ruddy face was flushed. "I'm not saying anything that ain't already been said. That scout, Cullen, has been pretty free with his words."

"Cullen? I thought he was in the stockade."

Another man playing poker with Pesant barked a humorless laugh. "Cullen? Word is he's got Colonel Nyes wrapped around his finger."

Nyes.
Ridge should have known. Nyes was going to protect his ass, which meant he had to protect Cullen.

"Damn shame about Miss Hartwell, though," the foreman added. "Too bad the Indians weren't taken care of years ago before one of the sons of bitches got her with child. Nobody wants a squaw woman with a half-breed bastard. She would've been better off if she'd died instead."

"Hell, maybe she enjoyed it," a man with a missing front tooth said with a crude gesture.

"That's enough, Harley," Pesant warned.

"I don't know what Cullen's been saying, but Miss Hartwell wasn't used like that. The Lakota adopted her, treated her like their own," Ridge refuted sharply.

"If that's so, what about the kid?" the foreman asked with more curiosity than meanness.

"That ain't for me to say," Ridge replied, afraid he already let too much slip. "I was with her in the village for almost a week before the soldiers came. They treated Emma respectfully, which is more than I can say for anyone in this town."

Ridge thumped his chair back around to his table. Josey, the waitress, set a plate covered by a thick steak in front of him.

"Anything else I can get you?" she asked with a deep-throated purr.