White Dreams (7 page)

It was clear she expected him to say no, so he surprised her. “All right.” The brightening of her face, and her wide smile, warmed him inside, but as the two girls rode off to talk about it, a voice in his head warned that he might have made a mistake. Giving Renny free rein was like opening the floodgates to trouble, but he didn’t have the heart to call them back.

The others laughed. “I’m afraid what those two will come up with,” Star murmured, echoing his own thoughts.

“I’m sure we will find out soon enough,” he said with a small grin.

As the afternoon wore on, Grady stayed near Star. Emma, Dove and White Wind had joined the two girls to guide them in their name choice, and intermittent squeals of laughter from that group left everyone feeling light of heart. Even Striking Thunder and Golden Eagle joined the merry game.

Star chuckled. “I am not sure if the children or the adults are having the most fun.”

Her soft laughter wrapped him in a cocoon of happiness. Grady enjoyed listening to her laugh and realized that over the last few days, she’d both smiled and laughed many times. Already, the strain was fading from her face and she looked rested. Even the shadows under her eyes had lifted.

“It’s not often children have the opportunity to change their names,” he said.

“My people often change their names as they grow older. When boys become warriors, they earn the right to take on a new name. My daughter is excited to do the same.”

Silence fell, and along with it an easy companionship. It was something he appreciated in Star. Usually he felt awkward when in the company of women. The silences were thick and tense. But not with this woman. Between them, there wasn’t the need for constant chatter.

Grady removed his hat to rub the grime from his face with his handkerchief. Dusty and sweaty from the journey, he longed for a bath. But before he could get too engrossed in such a fantasy, he heard the swoop of wings and saw the shadow of a bird growing larger on the ground in front of him. He ducked. “Damn!” He was too late to avoid the razor-sharp talons that grazed the top of his head.

“Goddamn bird,” he shouted as several strands of hair were yanked painfully out of his head by the root.

The commotion of flapping wings, the raven’s harsh cries and his own shouts, startled his horse, who sidestepped and half reared. Using one hand to ward off the diving bird, Grady struggled to retain his seat. Another swooping attack and painful tug at his head followed, then another sideways jerk of his horse. One foot came loose from his stirrup, and he felt his whole body shift out of the saddle. He fell, landing flat on his back. The black bird soared high into the sky with a raucous shriek.

Thankfully, a thick cushion of grass broke the worst of his fall. Lying still, he attempted to catch his breath and salvage his pride. The raven circled above him, its cries sounding like gleeful laughter.

“Colonel, are you all right?” Star’s worried features appeared above him.

He blinked. “Damn bird—going to end…in a pie,” he wheezed, struggling to rise.

Gentle hands held him back. “Wait. Catch your breath first.”

The feel of her hands roaming over him in search of injuries left him breathless. Beneath her probing fingers, a strange weakness invaded his limbs. Tenderly, her hands skimmed over his shoulders, down his arms, over his head and along each leg. His insides shook. He tried blaming his reaction on his fall, for to admit his paralyzing weakness from this woman’s touch was not an option.

“Father, are you all right?” Emma ran up to him.

Grady grimaced at his daughter’s worried tone. She too peered down at him. Swearing beneath his breath, he pushed himself up from his undignified position despite the women’s protests. Emma and Star each took an arm to help him, but he shook them off and stood on his own, feeling stupid and embarrassed. “I’m fine.”

Star stood and handed him his hat. “Just bruised.”

Grady jammed the hat down on his head, then tucked in his long hair. One step confirmed he had a bruised backside, yet it was his ego that had taken a more severe beating. He glowered at the two women.

Emma’s lips twitched. “I’m so sorry, Father. Black Cloud does like red hair, I’m afraid.” As if to prove her words, the raven flew down and landed on Emma’s shoulder. He cocked his head before gently pecking at Emma’s long red braid.

Knowing he had presented a humorous sight fighting off a bird, he glared at both women, daring them to laugh. Being unseated by an animal was not something a man in his position found amusing. “That bird will be mincemeat if he tries that again.” Grady’s voice turned gruff. The raven sat calmly on his daughter’s shoulder—not a sight seen in the city—which only served to remind him just how little he knew his eldest child. The knowledge that she fit in perfectly with the life she’d chosen made father and daughter seem miles apart.

Renny stormed over to him, tearing him from his contemplation. “Don’t you dare hurt Black Cloud,” she shouted, planting herself squarely in between him and Emma.

“Renny,” Emma cautioned, grabbing hold of her sister’s arm. “Father isn’t serious. Now hush.”

The girl yanked herself free and folded her arms across her chest. “Then he shouldn’t say things he doesn’t mean. That was one of Aunt Ida’s rules, and you always say we have to follow rules.”

Humiliated by his undignified fall and hurt that Renny continued to think ill of him made Grady lose his temper. “Addressing your father in a respectful tone is also a rule, and one you seem to have forgotten! Or you never learned it…and if you do not want to be confined to your room, you will remember it!” He glared at her.

She glared right back. “That’s because I never had a father.”

Striking Thunder’s arrival, with Grady’s horse in tow, prevented him from answering, which was a good thing. Allowing Renny to rile him to the point of anger wouldn’t win him her love and trust, although allowing her to be so outspoken with her elders went against the grain. But he realized allowances had to be made—for now.

Grady accepted the reins to his horse and remounted. The women wisely moved off to reclaim their own happily grazing horses, leaving him and the young chieftain alone.

“I’m afraid my bird is drawn to hair the color of fire.” He smiled, pointing to Emma. The bird had climbed from her shoulder onto her long braid and was flapping his wings to keep his balance.

“Don’t take offense when I say I won’t be sad to leave your pet behind.” Grady gave the winged menace a dirty look, but despite his aversion to the bird, he had to admit it made a funny sight—as long as the bird was perched on someone else’s shoulder! Cautiously, he removed his hat and touched the top of his head. The sting of his finger scraping over a cut made him wince. “Damn, does he have to use his talons?”

Without warning, the bird let out a loud cry and took to the air. A moment later, a burst of gunfire rent the air. “What the hell?” Grady whipped his horse around.

Over the gentle swell of land before him, Zeb and Zac crested a small rise. The two were riding hell-bent-for-leather straight toward them.

Something was wrong. Grady fired his own rifle into the air. The pounding of his horse’s hooves sounded as his soldiers fell into position, their rifles poised for whatever danger pursued the scouts. Striking Thunder quickly positioned his own warriors with bows drawn to flank both sides of Grady’s contingent of soldiers.

Glancing behind him to check on the women, Grady noted that White Dove had an arrow nocked, her bow drawn tight. Alongside her, three of his best-trained men were ready to give their lives to protect his daughters.

Zac and Zeb reined to a halt before him. “Arikara, sir. Lots of ’em, and they’s armed.”

“Get the women out of here. Keep them safe, men.”

“Yes, Colonel.” The two scouts galloped away.

Grady waited. When a single, wide line of warriors crested the hill, he tasted fear. His girls—what if he failed to protect them? Staring at the enemy, his mind went blank. The fearlessness he’d always known in battle fled, leaving behind a father who could only think of the danger to his children.

Striking Thunder spoke sharply. “Wait for them to make the first move.” Grady glanced at his son-in-law. Striking Thunder was a true warrior. Hard. Focused. A force to be reckoned with.

“The women—”

“Will be safe. The Arikara are no match for the Sioux—or soldiers under the command of a great white warrior. We
will
show them.” Silent assurance filled Striking Thunder’s eyes.

Unconsciously, Grady drew himself up, becoming once again the colonel who had earned the respect of his men and fear from his enemies. His military training took over. He would deal with this threat in the manner in which he was trained; he had to trust others to keep the women out of danger.

Loud shrieks rent the air as the enemy flew down the hill on their horses. As Striking Thunder drew his bow, Grady lifted his hand. “Steady. Steady, men. Let them come to us,” he shouted. A barrage of arrows and lead balls from their enemies’ old muskets flew toward them, falling short. At the downward slash of Grady’s hand, his own soldiers commenced firing. Several Arikara fell, but still they came.

At the slightest pressure of his knees, Grady’s horse leaped forward. His men charged the enemy. Striking Thunder and his warriors let out blood-chilling whoops as they too surged ahead, riding without the use of their hands, their arrows flying one after another. Grady spared a moment to appreciate and give thanks that the Sioux were his allies, not his enemies.

Then the air filled with gunfire, shrieks of war and screams of the fallen. Grady saw one of his men fall, then took aim at the Arikara warrior who had slain him, watching with satisfaction as the enemy flew off his horse to land on the bloodstained earth. The brave’s wild-eyed animal bolted for safety.

Sweat dripped down the sides of Grady’s face, his blood pumping furiously and his heart pounding in his ears. Adrenaline raced through his veins.

Some of the Arikara had split off to the right to flank them, but Striking Thunder and his warriors wheeled to head them off. Under the relentless gunfire from his soldiers, the main body of the Arikara—their number smaller now by half—turned tail, riding back the way they’d come.

At the sight of the war party blocking their path, Renny moved close to Emma. Her older sister’s face had paled dramatically. Terror seized her as the memory of another Indian attack closed off her throat. Last time, her protectors had been killed, allowing Yellow Dog to take her and Emma captive. He’d been mean to them, especially to Emma, and he had traded Renny to another band of Indians for horses. Renny swallowed convulsively. Was it going to happen again? What would happen to her if these Indians killed the soldiers and Striking Thunder’s warriors? Her father? Her stomach heaved. “Emma?”

She glanced over to see her sister’s grip on her reins tightened, her knuckles turned white. “It’s all right, Renny. Fathers’ men have better guns than they do.” Her voice lacked confidence.

“So did Capt’n Sanders’s men.” Renny’s voice broke off with a squeak. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the approaching enemy. Their shrill cries were the stuff of old nightmares.

A hand reached out to calm Renny. It was Star Dreamer’s. “Do not worry, little one. No one will harm you ever again.”

Zac and Zeb motioned them to ride. “Let’s git outta here. Colonel’s orders.”

Renny gladly obeyed the order to turn and flee. Her horse churned up the ground behind her, sending rocks and clods of dirt into the air. Her heart lodged in her throat and her mouth felt dry. She glanced over her shoulder and whimpered. A handful of Arikara had split off to the side from the Sioux warriors and soldiers. They were now closing in on the fleeing women.

An arrow whizzed past. Renny screamed, jerking on the reins. Her horse faltered.

Zac rode up alongside her. “Lay low and ride, li’lady,” Zac shouted. He glanced behind them, then swore.

Looking back too, Renny nearly fell from her horse. Two Indians were closing in on her. She froze, unable to think beyond her fear.

Zac reached over and grabbed hold of her, pulling her in front of him, shielding her body from arrows too close for comfort. Renny’s scream caught in her throat as her horse veered away. Afraid to look, she held on to Zac for all she was worth. No one needed to tell her the Arikara were close.

Renny gulped air into her lungs as the sound of battle raged behind her. Peering around her protector’s arm, she spotted soldiers, with her father in the lead, cutting across the prairie to intercept the small group of savages that was chasing them. Her father lifted his rifle and fired. Behind her, one Indian fell, leaving only one gaining on Zac. The rest veered away, and a group of soldiers broke off in pursuit. Her father continued forward to save her.

He bent low over his horse, eventually pulling up alongside their pursuer. He smashed the warrior with the butt of his rifle. The Arikara savage slid to the side of his horse but did not fall. Instead, he used the steed for cover as he drew a wicked-looking tomahawk.

Horror washed over Renny, but before she could scream or call out, her father leaned low and pulled a knife from his boot, then threw it in one smooth motion. She let out a yell of support.

“He killed him, Zac! Papa killed him.”

The scout who held her glanced over his shoulder, then slowed his horse. “Yahoo!” His yell joined hers.

When their excitement faded, Zac rode back to where the groups were reassembling. The enemy had been thoroughly vanquished.

“Look, Emma!” Renny cried, waving to her sister. “We’re saved.”

Emma smiled weakly. “That we are, sweetie.”

Morning Moon rode up too, shouting gleefully. “The Arikara run like the cowards they are!”

Colonel O’Brien appeared next. “Everyone all right?” His stern gaze swept over his daughters before moving to check on the rest of the women.

“We’re fine, Father. None the worse for the scare,” Emma said.

Renny glanced at her father with new respect. “Wow. I didn’t know you could fight like that.”
Her father
had saved them. “Papa saved us, Em! He didn’t let those awful Indians get us.”

Her father lifted his brow. “No one will ever harm you again, child. Now, come along. Let’s go find your mount while we wait for your sister’s husband to return.”

For the first time, Renny remembered her horse. She glanced around, then sighed with relief when she spotted the animal grazing a short distance away, unconcerned. When her father held out his arms, she went to him, allowing him to settle her in front of him. With a slow flick of the reins, he urged the horse forward into a walk.

With her father’s arms securely on either side of her and his large, hard body behind her, Renny felt safe. Maybe he loved her after all—even if only a little bit. She asked him what had happened to the attacking band of Arikara.

She expected him to act like most adults and give her a vague answer—they never wanted to tell kids the truth. To her surprise, he didn’t.

“Well, Renny, sometimes people die,” he began, then offered up an account of the battle itself. As he spoke, Renny felt an inkling of trust, and she was glad he was taking his time reaching her horse.

It was a weary group who arrived at Fort Pierre the following afternoon. Star, Morning Moon and Renny entered the large room they’d been given to sleep in until they boarded the next steamboat bound for St. Louis.

Star stared. The barracks were stark: four dirty walls, a plank floor, one small window cracked and so crusted with dirt that she couldn’t see through it. And along the wall there were several strange pieces of furniture, each with two lumpy, misshapen mattresses.

Renny dumped her bedding in one corner, then climbed up the side rails of one of the metal contraptions. “Hey, look how high up I am. Come on up, Morning Moon.” She glanced down at Star, then at her sister and White Dove, standing in the doorway. “This is fun! I’m sleeping up here. Hey, Em, maybe you can sleep in here too. There’s lots of beds.”

Morning Moon giggled and scampered up the end of the bed to join Renny. “She can’t. My uncle will want her with him.”

Emma brushed past Star and sighed with longing. “A real bed.” She rubbed her lower back with one hand and her abdomen with the other. Sitting, she tested one of the mattresses, then grimaced.

“A feather bed it’s not, but better than the hard, cold ground. Striking Thunder will have to manage one night without me,” Emma decided, lying flat with a satisfied sigh.

Star copied her sister-in-law and sat gingerly on the bottom bed nearest her. It wobbled from the girl’s movements above her. She jumped off and smiled weakly at her mother and sister, who had come in.

White Wind’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s been a long time since I’ve slept in a real bed.” She too tested a straw-stuffed mattress. “How about if we all bed down here tonight? We shall declare tonight to be a woman’s night.”

Star eyed the bed her sister climbed on. The frame creaked and rocked with each movement. “Perhaps I’ll sleep outside.”

Emma slid out of her bed and grabbed Star’s arm. “Oh, no, you don’t. It’s not that bad. Besides, as soon as my trunk is brought in, you have to try on my dresses to see if they will fit.” She glanced over at Renny. “We also have to see if you have anything for Morning Moon to wear.”

“I have lots of dresses.” She frowned. “Hey, we should start using Morning Moon’s new name so she gets used to it,” Renny suggested, leaning half over the bunk bed, her red hair streaming down.

“That’s a very good idea, Renny,” Star said, eager to take her mind from the prospect of bedding down on one of those strange pallets. “Does that meet with your approval,
Matilda?
” Her daughter’s face lit up and the girl nodded shyly.

The arrival of several soldiers carrying Emma’s trunks brought forth a flurry of activity. Gasps of delight followed when Emma opened the trunk and started laying out dresses upon the bed. Not knowing how long she’d be gone from home, she’d brought more than enough garments for a long time.

When her sister-in-law lifted out the last dress—her best Sunday-go-to-meeting dress in a powder blue with lace and ribbons trimming the sleeves and neckline—Star’s jaw dropped. She’d never seen anything like it. She reached out to rub the material between her fingers. “It’s so soft,” she murmured.

“And it will be perfect on you with your black hair.” Emma’s voice softened. “I was going to wear this the day we arrived, but—well, I have no need for it now. It’s yours, as are the rest of the dresses. Try it on,” she urged.

“I cannot wear this.” Regretfully, she handed the dress back, unable to take something so beautiful from her friend.

“Why not?” Emma rubbed the swell of her unborn child. “I certainly cannot wear it. Besides, when I needed more suitable clothing to fit in to your lifestyle, I accepted what you gave me.”

Star acknowledged the gentle rebuke with a small smile. “Yes, you accepted, however unwillingly. All right. I will wear this beautiful dress.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. Star hid her smile, remembering how Emma had refused to give up her own tattered dress until Striking Thunder had finally taken the choice from her—ripping the garment and rendering it useless.

At Emma’s urging, Star removed her deerskin skirt and tunic and let the woman drop the dress over her head. Yards of material slid over her naked body like water sheeting across her skin. Her admirers’ soft gasps filled the room. White Dove, sitting on top of another bunk bed with her legs crossed, wore an expression of awe; White Wind wiped tears from her eyes, and the two little girls sighed and stared down at her.

Emma clapped her hands. “I think it will fit, once we put on your petticoats and corset.”

“And drawers, Em.”

“You’re right, Renny.”

Star frowned when Emma tossed several strange bits of clothing onto the nearest bed. In short order, her dress was removed and she was attired in what Emma called a shift, drawers, several petticoats and a front-lacing corset that left her barely able to breathe. With the dress back on, Star felt as though the clothing was grabbing her with each step.

“I can’t wear all this,” she moaned, pulling at the bodice of her dress, fighting the constriction of the corset.

White Dove shook her head. “I am certainly glad I don’t have to be trussed up like a stuffed prairie chicken.”

Star sent her sister a baleful glare.

Emma sat back and frowned. “I can let out the seams of the dresses so that we don’t have to tighten the corset so much, but otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll just have to get used to it.”

White Dove snickered. “Yes, Star. When Emma came to us, she adapted to our ways. You, dear sister, must do the same—unless you’ve changed your mind and wish to return with us?”

Star bit back a sharp retort, refusing to give in to her younger sibling’s goading. “No. I will learn to dress like a white woman.”

“Be thankful that this is one of the newest corsets with elastic, not whalebone. Those were horrid,” Emma admitted. “Now, let’s try on the rest. We haven’t got much time to make the alterations, and I heard my father tell Striking Thunder that a steamer should be back down the river within the week. There is much sewing to be done.”