White Dreams (6 page)

She remembered being taken there, climbing up to the area beneath the ceiling where her mother had slept. Star had found the height uncomfortable. She found herself hoping that her sleeping room in Colonel O’Brien’s house would be on the bottom floor, so she wouldn’t have to climb up a ladder to go to bed each night.

“I guess now that Father is coming home, I won’t be allowed in the den either.” This time, Renny sounded resentful.

Star wrinkled her brows. “The den belongs to your father?”

“Yeah. Aunt Ida said he used to sit in there to work during the day, and smoke his cigars and drink brandy at night. There’s not so much stuff to break in there, and I go in to read or play sometimes.”

“But why go there when you have your own sleeping room? Is it not big enough?”

“Oh, no, my bedroom is nice and big—big enough for both me and Morning Moon to share if she wants.” Renny’s lower lip jutted out and trembled. “I used to go to the den to be close to Papa. At night, when Aunt Ida and Emma were asleep, I’d sneak down there and sit on the couch and watch the stars. Sometimes I’d wish really hard for him to come back, then I’d sit and pretend he was there working, and that he wanted me to come and keep him company.”

Star’s heart contracted. “Your wish is coming true, is it not, Weshawee?” Off to her right, she noticed the colonel talking to her father and brother. With his legs planted apart, his hands clasped behind his back and his shoulders pulled back, she couldn’t help but again appreciate his fine male form. Though fully clothed in tight-fitting trousers tucked into black boots that came to his knees, there was no doubt the colonel’s thighs were as powerful as those of any warrior from her tribe. An unexpected warmth overcame her.

Star had a sudden urge to know what the colonel looked like clad as a Sioux warrior. Heat rose to her face. Grateful for the little girl’s chatter, Star tore her gaze from the colonel.

Renny frowned, glaring across the way at her father. “It’s too late. ’Sides, I just know he won’t let me go in there anymore.” She jumped to her feet, tossed her head, sending the leather thong at the end of one braid flying. “But I don’t care. It’s dark and stuffy and boring.” With that, the young girl ran off before Star could stop her.

Her decision whether or not to give chase was a short one. A moment after the girl had fled, Star’s brother returned and gave the order to mount up.

Instead of rising to her feet, Star found herself lost in thought. With her own world in such a confusing state, would she be able to help Renny overcome her resentment and accept her father back into her young life?

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she found it was that of her daughter. “Don’t worry, Mother. Weshawee’s father
will
let her in the room.” As Star stared at her daughter, the child didn’t smile. Morning Moon looked uncertain, hesitant, as if gauging her mother’s reaction.

Star’s heart tugged. “How do you know?”

“I have seen it.” Morning Moon gave her an odd look as she spoke, but excitement leaked into her voice. “I’ve also seen the room I’ll share with Weshawee. It is the color of the sun rising in the morning. And the windows have white coverings that look soft as clouds.”

“Curtains?”

“Yes. Like my uncle Wolf has, but different. Weshawee says she hates the pink-and-white fluff and ruffles.”

Star tried to smile but couldn’t. Her daughter seemed to have no problem seeing future events clearly. What was the extent of her gift, and was she herself doing right by trying to separate her daughter from the Spirits who bestowed it? She longed to question the child, but feared her answers, so she changed the subject. “Do you think you’ll like living in such a big house and sharing a room with Weshawee?”

“Yes, Weshawee is so much fun.” Morning Moon giggled, then sobered.

“What is it, daughter?”

Morning Moon bit her lip and eyed her mother warily. “Nothing.”

Her daughter’s obvious reluctance to talk—and Star had to assume it was about her visions—was a stab in the heart. But it was her own fault. Morning Moon had kept her developing gift a secret because she’d known how her mother would react. Even now, it was hard for Star to accept her daughter’s power. But it was time, past time, they talked about it.

Before she could pursue the subject, Renny’s father rode up to them, leading their horses.

Star frowned when Morning Moon took advantage of the interruption and rode off to join the other women, who waited at the head of the trail. The reason for her daughter’s quick escape wasn’t lost on her. She understood, and vowed to make it up to her.

“What’s wrong?” Grady asked, dismounting, drawing Star from her dark fears. He reached across and removed a small twig from her hair.

His touch, brief and impersonal, warmed her. She accepted the reins he held out, then mounted. “I acted too late. My child…the visions have begun.”

Grady tilted his head back, revealing a strong, bronzed column below his red beard. “They don’t seem to be affecting her any.” He pulled his hat off and swiped an arm across his forehead.

Star brushed bits of grass from her skirt. “She’s too young to understand. I do not want her childhood tainted. She should be free to laugh, play, dream and enjoy being young—she should not have to worry about being an adult too soon.”

Grady slapped his hat against his thigh, startling his horse. He turned pain-filled eyes to her. “You want for Morning Moon what I took away from Emma.”

Yes. And what this curse took from me.
She met his sad gaze squarely, again feeling an overpowering sense of closeness with this man. “I want what’s best for both Morning Moon and Weshawee.”

Replacing his hat, he swung into his saddle. “Together, we shall give our daughters what they need.” He paused and squinted against the glare of the sun overhead. “You are giving up much for us, leaving behind so much…”

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. The colonel’s eyes, clear blue-gray, held hers. Yet it wasn’t the color that fascinated her as much as the sensitivity, the glimpses into the man behind the uniform. For reasons she didn’t understand, she was able to see past the stern commander, past the appearance of cold aloofness. Hidden deep inside, she saw the lonely, scarred man who by a cruel twist of fate had lost his wife in gaining a daughter.

Death renewed by birth. Endings lead to new beginnings.
The words floated in her mind; they had been taught to her by her people and she knew she should believe them. But things were so different, so painful.

She and Grady O’Brien shared so much. Each had lost a beloved mate, had a daughter they loved, carried a soul full of guilt. She glanced over at him again and, seeing that he was thinking similar thoughts, she glanced away. An awkward silence fell on them, and they spurred their horses after the others.

Star sought a change in topic. “Tell me about your home—not what it looks like, though. Weshawee has already described the rooms. Explain what my duties will be. My mother has taught us many ways of the white man, but I fear there is much I still must learn. Especially cooking in a kitchen and using a stove.”

Grady glanced over at her. “You will not have to cook—or clean. I will hire others to do those duties.”

Absently, Star rubbed her mare’s soft neck. “Then what is it I will do?”

“You will watch over my daughter.”

His answer surprised her. “That seems so little.” Star couldn’t imagine having others around to do the work that she expected went with raising a child.

“You have lived with Renny for the last six months. I believe you will find watching over her in the city much different from living out on the plains. White children cannot roam freely as they do out here, in the open. I dread learning what mischief my daughter will land herself in without some guidance…and perhaps with it.”

He smiled at Star and began regaling her with some of Emma’s exploits as a young child, when she was younger than Renny. Star turned her head and watched him as he spoke. Sunlight glinted off his hair. The shade of red reminded her of a warm fire crackling in the night. Like the rest of the soldiers, his beard and moustache needed trimming, and his hair fell past his collar.

She wondered what he would look like without the hair on his face. Realizing she was acting like a maiden seeking the attention of a brave, she forced herself to concentrate on the soothing quality of his voice. Her shoulders relaxed, she laughed at his stories, and without her even being aware of it, some of her tension fled. All of her earlier doubts were replaced with a sense of rightness. She had seen death; she was ready for her new beginning.

One day from the fort, Grady sent three of his soldiers on ahead. He had no idea if anyone was still at Fort Pierre, as the installation had officially closed. As soon as he and his party arrived, though, he planned to send word of his return to Fort Randall, where most of his men had been reassigned. Then he’d wait for the next steamboat to make its way down the Missouri, resign his commission and hitch a ride home to St. Louis.

Home.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think of it in years. Home for the last nine years had been wherever the army sent him. A year here, six months there. He hadn’t spent much time in any one place, and only now did he realize he’d missed having a place to call his own.

His sister had been right all those years ago when she’d accused him of fleeing. He’d spent the last nine years believing that if he never went home, he’d never have to face the pain that came with knowing he’d never see his wife again. Though time had dulled the crippling pain, smoothed the sharp points of anger, he still felt the horrible sadness that had followed his wife’s death.

He prayed that by returning to the home he and Maggie had once shared, he’d finally be able to let go of the past. He needed to put his energy toward rebuilding his future—and that of their daughter. Despite his misgivings about returning home after such a long absence, he felt at peace with himself—something that had eluded him since losing Margaret Mary.

His gaze fell on Star Dreamer. She had moved off to the side with the rest of the women, and he watched her as she rode. She wore her black hair parted in the center and loose. The strands fell around her face, framing it in a drape of black silk. With each movement of her head, the shiny strands spilled forward, drawing attention to the gentle curve of her jaw, her slender neck and narrow shoulders.

The temperature outside was moderate, and she’d removed her leggings, revealing long, slender limbs the warm color of honey. Once more, he found himself staring, his gaze roaming her body appreciatively. Shifting on the back of her horse, Star rolled her shoulders and leaned her head back, exposing her throat to the kiss of the sun as she worked an apparent stiffness from her muscles.

Grady sucked in his breath, his body yearning for one such kiss, one taste of her sun-warmed skin and sweet mouth. His gaze lingered on her throat, traveling down over her loose-fitting top to where the fringe on the bottom of her skirt brushed against her knees.

He shifted against the sudden uncomfortable tightness of his trousers against his pulsing manhood. Damn. He tried scooting back in his saddle, but his body was on fire. Somehow Star had achieved what no woman had since Maggie: she’d brought his body back to painful life.

But what could he do? Surely once he returned to civilization he would be able to find a way to slake his newfound desire, but he had a feeling that any cure he found would be temporary. Only Star could give him the sweet release his body cried out for.

Recriminations for his wanton urges left him feeling lower than a snake. This wasn’t some doxy to be ogled; she was his daughter’s sister-in-law—and, he hoped, his friend. He could not risk behaving in a manner that might destroy their bond. He needed her.

Halting his mount, he leaned forward, resting his arms across the pommel as he breathed in deeply. He felt rejuvenated as he took in the bright blue sky and sweeping green prairie. Once more, he looked toward Star. How would she fare in his world? He tried to imagine her in a proper dress and hat.

His eyes went wide. “Lord, clothing!” She couldn’t arrive in St. Louis in buckskins—no matter how soft they looked. Hell, she had to have something else for the boat ride home.

Emma’s trunk. He snapped his fingers. He’d left orders for his possessions to be cared for. If the fort had been abandoned, surely his things would have been transferred safely to Fort Randall.

Then another thought struck as he considered their arrival in the city. He rode over to the women.

“Sorry to intrude, but there are some things we must decide before we get to St. Louis.” He looked at Star. “I cannot introduce you into society as Star Dreamer.”

“Why not?” The woman looked puzzled.

Uncomfortable, Grady cleared his throat. “Don’t take this wrong, ma’am, but I’m thinking it might be easier for you in St. Louis if we give you a last name.”

“Very wise, Colonel,” White Wind agreed, her blue eyes narrowed as she gave the matter thought. “What about the name I used before my marriage? I was once known as Sarah Cartier.”

Grady had heard the story of how Star’s mother had come to live among the Sioux. She was proof that a white woman could find love and peace in the land of the Sioux—and she was one of the reasons he’d consented to allowing Emma to remain. “As there are a large number of French citizens in St. Louis, that should do nicely. I believe Star will suffice for a first name if we drop Dreamer.”

Star wrinkled her nose and tried it out. “Star Car-tier.” The words sounded strange on her tongue.

Star Cartier.
Silently Grady repeated the name. “As beautiful as the woman,” he mused. Shocked to find he’d spoken aloud, he coughed and glanced away, but not before catching a speculative look from White Wind. The mother lifted a brow thoughtfully but said nothing.

Instead, she eyed her granddaughter. “I’m afraid Morning Moon will need an entirely new name.”

“This is fun!” Renny looked at her father. “Can
we
pick her name? I can help her.”