Beyond The Horizon (18 page)

“When can I start?” Shannon asked eagerly.

“There is a certain amount of work to be done in order to get the schoolhouse and your house in condition. I’ll try to lend you a man, but we’re woefully short-handed. It shouldn’t take more than two weeks to whip everything into shape.”

“I’m sure I can manage on my own,” Shannon stated.

“We’ll help, won’t we, Claire?” Molly offered kindly. Forced to it, Claire grudgingly agreed.

When can I move into the house?” Shannon asked.

“Are you so anxious to leave us?” Colonel Greer chided gently. “As soon as it is habitable, you may move.”

“It’s not that I find your hospitality lacking,” Shannon assured him, “it’s just that I’d like to get school started as soon as possible.”

That evening Lieutenant Goodman came to call. Somehow Shannon wasn’t surprised to learn that the lieutenant was a frequent visitor, and that he and Claire were considered practically engaged. For a man supposedly in love, Shannon thought the man’s eyes strayed in her direction far too often. Claire must have thought so too, for she glared daggers at Shannon at every opportunity. When Goodman invited Claire for a walk and asked Shannon to join them, Shannon politely declined. She certainly didn’t intend to become involved in the couple’s love affair.

Blade stood concealed in the dark shadows outside Colonel Greer’s quarters. He wondered what Shannon was doing, if the room where the light had just flickered on was hers. So close yet so far, he thought regretfully. They were poles apart, meant to be neither friends nor lovers. Yet he wanted to be both. He lingered outside until the light in the upper window went out, then walked morosely back to his room, recalling with vivid clarity the night he had taken Shannon’s virginity and attained paradise.

If Blade were Waken Taken, he might have been able to read Shannon’s thoughts, felt her soul and body calling out to him. She missed his comforting presence, his big body next to hers at night. They’d been together so many days and nights that she had grown accustomed to his company, accepted it quite naturally. Shannon’s emotions were so tangled where Blade was concerned, she had difficulty sorting them out.

Blade had risked his life to save her, even if his methods were harsh and she’d lost her innocence in the bargain. Yet mere gratitude didn’t begin to describe what Shannon felt for Blade. She couldn’t really hate him, the attraction between them was too vitally alive for that emotion. It occurred to her that he had made love to her as if he truly meant it, making her first time memorable. Blade was a man like no other. Did it really matter that he was a half-breed?

Clive Bailey was a happy man. He had returned to his trading post to find it prospering under the able management of a man from Iowa named Burt Dunlap. Burt’s wife, Iris, sewed ready-made dresses and sold them in the store. But after his return, their services were no longer needed so he let them go before they inadvertently discovered the smuggled guns. Then he had successfully traded the guns to Mad Wolf for a fortune in gold—gold that the renegade had stolen from a stagecoach transporting the precious metal to meet the payroll of railroad workers. Bailey had even demanded and received more than originally agreed upon. He had been angered by Mad Wolf’s attack upon him on the prairie and threatened to withhold the gun shipment unless more gold was offered. Not sharing the white man’s greed for gold, Mad Wolf readily agreed.

Bailey was so anxious to rid himself of the contraband weapons that he appeared at the rendezvous designated by Mad Wolf shortly after he arrived at Fort Laramie. He learned from the renegade that Blade had left the Sioux village with Shannon Branigan and would probably reach the fort soon.

Bailey had mixed feelings about this news. Little was known about the half-breed except that he had turned up seemingly from nowhere to act as guide. Highly recommended by the army, Blade had been hired sight unseen and arrived in Independence mere days before the wagon train departed. Though Bailey had no complaint with his work, the man appeared too educated for the average half-breed, and much too curious.

Nevertheless, Bailey was relieved to have the guns off his hands and the gold hidden away, enough to last him a long time. One day, before the savages massacred every living person on the western frontier, he would return to civilization and spend his wealth. Still, he couldn’t erase Mad Wolf’s parting words from his mind.

“Bring Little Firebird to me and the rest of the gold is yours.”

It was a tempting offer.

Chapter Ten

B
lade’s footsteps were noiseless as he approached the
rear of Clive Bailey’s trading post. The wagon in which Bailey had crossed the plains sat forlornly beneath the slim crescent of moon. The night was still, the air crisp with the promise of winter. Blade’s midnight foray went unheralded, due in good part to his Indian cunning. With the stealth of a mountain lion he eased into the wagon.

Since the conestoga was nearly empty, Blade had little difficulty exposing the false bottom. A twinge of keen disappointment twisted his gut when he discovered the guns had been removed. They had either already been delivered or were hidden somewhere in Bailey’s store. Dropping to the dusty ground, Blade circled the building until he found an unlatched window in the rear. Boosting himself up, he wriggled through the opening, his broad shoulders barely scraping past its narrow frame.

Once inside, Blade found himself in a rear store room with no other windows save for the one he had just used to gain entrance. Searching through his pockets he located a match, lit it, and held it aloft. He faced a closed door, which he suspected led into the main part of the store. Blade saw a stub of candle atop one of the bales nearby and carefully lit it from his match. Then he made a thorough search of the storeroom. He found nothing remotely resembling guns or anything else of a suspicious nature. Though Blade doubted Bailey would be stupid enough to hide weapons in the main store, he cautiously opened the door and stepped into the large room crowded with merchandise of all descriptions. Wasting little time, he began a cursory search of the boxes and bags stacked on the shelves and on the floor.

His need for speed caused him to become careless, and he brushed against a tin can perched on the edge of a shelf. It teetered for a breathless moment, then crashed to the floor. Blade’s lungs filled with air, then he exhaled slowly as he doused the candle and crouched low behind the counter. He waited breathlessly to see if his blunder had aroused Bailey, whose living quarters were above the store. Suddenly a trap door lowered from above and Bailey, wearing a nightshirt over his breeches and carrying a gun in one hand and a lamp in the other, appeared at the top of the ladder.

“Who’s there?” Bailey called out, holding the lamp aloft to illuminate the dark interior.

On hands and knees, Blade crawled to the open door of the storeroom and eased through. He heard Bailey’s footsteps descend the ladder, move about the store, then falter outside the storeroom door. Blade realized that if he was found prowling where he shouldn’t be he’d risk exposure, be charged with trespassing, and punished. President Johnson had warned him he was on his own in this investigation, and he wasn’t certain even Major Vance would help if he got himself in trouble.

Bailey burst into the storeroom just as Blade dove through the window.

Though the hour was late, a single light still burned in a window in an apartment on officer’s row. Three short raps on the door brought an immediate response.

“I’ve been waiting. You’re late.”

Blade slipped inside and Wade Vance quickly closed the door behind him. This was the second private meeting Blade had had with Vance since his arrival at Fort Laramie. Blade had already revealed his suspicions concerning Clive Bailey and had been given permission to search the trading post for the smuggled weapons.

“They’re gone!” Blade announced with a foul oath. “Bailey has already rid himself of the guns. Damn, I wanted to nail that bastard.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Blade,” Vance consoled.

“He’s a wily son of a bitch. I’d be willing to bet this isn’t his first involvement with illegal weapons. I wonder if he has an accomplice?”

“If I hadn’t taken time to go after Shannon, I’d have the evidence we need. Now we’ll have to wait and see if Bailey goes back east in the spring and brings back more guns,” Blade grumbled sourly.

“There is a good chance Bailey will somehow expose himself,” Vance offered. “Sit down, Blade, and tell me what happened. Whiskey all right?”

“Whiskey is fine,” Blade said distractedly.

Vance poured two glasses of amber liquid and handed one to Blade, who sipped slowly on the whiskey while he told Vance how he’d searched Bailey’s wagon and store and found nothing, almost getting caught in the bargain. They chatted a while about their unfortunate luck, then Blade left to snatch a few hours of sleep. Before he departed he assured Vance he’d not give up so easily. Failure wasn’t something Blade took well.

Shannon awoke early, excited by the prospect of inspecting the schoolhouse and moving into her own home. She ate a hasty breakfast, and when Colonel Greer asked if she wished to see where she would be teaching, Shannon nodded her head with an eagerness that amused him.

The schoolhouse sat at the far end of the fort beyond the corral and horse shed. It was a one-room structure already furnished with desks and blackboard in anticipation of the teacher it didn’t have. A wide variety of books and supplies were on hand, enough to get them started. A wood-burning stove sat in the middle of the room. It was filthy. So were the windows. So dirty in fact that Shannon couldn’t see out of them.

Shannon learned that she’d be responsible for cleaning, carrying water, gathering firewood, and keeping supplies in good order. A teacher’s duties seemed endless. She’d be teaching the usual course of study, including reading, writing, arithmetic, spelling, geography, history, and grammar. All this for forty dollars a month and the house she would occupy. It was no great fortune, but Shannon didn’t mind. She was sure that not only would the job prove rewarding, but it would occupy her time during the long winter.

The house itself was in no better shape than the school, badly in need of a thorough scrubbing. Shannon realized that if school was to start in two weeks, she had her work cut out for her. Before Colonel Greer left Shannon to return to his duties, he imparted a stern reminder concerning her moral conduct.

“I know there is no need to caution you, my dear, but since you will be teaching our children, your conduct must remain above reproach. I’ve already done what I could to quell the talk circulating about your unfortunate ordeal with Mad Wolf. The rest is up to you.”

“I understand, Colonel, and you’ll have no complaint about my conduct.”

“Good, very good. I’ll leave you to your work now There is much to be done before school opens and I’ll help you by assigning a man to do the heavy chores.”

Shannon strode across the square wearing her oldest dress and carrying a bucket in one hand and a brush in the other, ready to tackle the awesome job of cleaning the schoolhouse and her new lodging. Suddenly she spied Blade leading his gray pony across the parade grounds. He looked big, lean, and dangerous—Nothing like the tender lover she remembered from the Indian village. She wondered where in the world he had found Warrior. They both assumed the animal had perished in the tornado. Shannon stopped, waiting for Blade to approach so she might question him about his horse. She was shocked when he passed her by without so much as flicking an eyelid in recognition.

“Blade, how dare you ignore me!”

Blade halted in mid-stride. He should have known Shannon couldn’t let well enough alone. Didn’t she realize he was avoiding her for a reason? She caught up with him, glaring at him with a challenge on her lips. “You weren’t going to speak to me, were you?”

“Believe me, Shannon, it’s for your own good. I’m not the kind of man a proper young woman like yourself should associate with. The new schoolmarm is expected to be more descreet.”

“You know about that?”

“News travels fast on a small army post. Is teaching the profession you’ve decided upon?”

“For the time being,” Shannon allowed. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. Besides, a steady income will allow me to pay my own way to Idaho. And I don’t like taking advantage of the Greers’ hospitality. Isn’t it fortunate rooms are included in the salary? I’m on my way there now,” Shannon added brightly.

With devouring thoroughness, Blade’s dark eyes feasted on every aspect of Shannon’s face and figure. God, she was an enchanting creature! She had no idea what she did to him or how badly he wanted to take her in his arms, to feel her softness melt against his hardness. Unfortunately, here on the frontier he was considered no better than a savage and unsuitable company for a well-bred young lady.

A desire stronger than life propelled him a step closer, aware that people were staring but unable to help himself.

“Shannon—”

“Is there a problem?” Lieutenant Goodman’s voice was harsh with disapproval. He had seen Blade and Shannon from across the parade ground and beat a hasty path to where they stood deep in conversation. He was astute enough to sense an undercurrent of emotion pass between them, and he seethed with anger.