Elaine Barbieri (14 page)

The responsive grumbling of the men was an indication of the heightening heat of the conflict on the frontier, and Edwards frowned. The situation had steadily worsened from the day that Red Shirt had been incarcerated. He couldn’t be certain the Thurston girl’s capture was directly related to it, but what he was sure of was that Washington had handled both those circumstances poorly. Worse, by refusing to consider all alternate solutions proposed, Washington continued to contribute to a situation which was rapidly reaching catastrophic proportions.

Turning, Edwards scrutinized the faces of the soldiers behind him. The occupants of the wagon had miraculously escaped with their lives, but the men were nonetheless ready to fight at the drop of a hat. He knew how dangerous that was. He needed to defuse the situation—for the sake of the Indians who were his charges and who had no chance at all for ultimate victory, and for the sake of the young men in uniform protecting the frontier.

Mounting, Edwards turned his horse back toward the fort without waiting for the command to follow. He did not pause to make a formal report when he reined up in the fort yard later, but went directly to the telegraph office. There, knowing the time had come for a radical step, he picked up pencil and paper and started to write.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The scent of burning herbs was beginning to nauseate Miranda. The din of Running Elk’s chant throbbed into her brain.

Dipping a cloth into a bowl nearby, Miranda ran it across Rattling Blanket’s lips, but there was no reaction to her ministrations.

Looking up as Running Elk spoke to her in Cheyenne, then turned toward the door, Miranda realized that the elderly shaman had finished his chants for the day. Likewise, Walking Woman had left the lodge a short time earlier—having watched her tend to Rattling Blanket with obvious suspicion through the long hours since she and Shadow Walker had arrived back at the camp earlier that day. Strangely, she hadn’t felt annoyed by Walking Woman’s suspicion. Instead, she had accepted the fact that she’d done nothing to earn the squaw’s trust.

Dipping the cloth back into the bowl, Miranda realized that the water she had used to cool Rattling Blanket’s brow had warmed to an undesirable degree. She reached for the water pouch, and silently groaned when she found it empty. Knowing she had no recourse, Miranda picked
up the pouch and turned to the door. With a last backward glance toward Rattling Blanket, Miranda started toward the path to the stream.

Miranda walked rapidly, her gaze held straight ahead. She did her best to ignore the comments of the squaws she passed. Unable to understand their language, she had no trouble in recognizing their tone. Animosity sounded the same in any language.

With sudden, bitter amusement, Miranda reminded herself that in this camp, she really had no rights at all—that she was no less a captive at present than she had been that first day when Shadow Walker had delivered her, bound hand and foot and draped over his horse like so much baggage.

Miranda turned down on to the trail to the stream, grateful to escape at last the hostile gazes following her. She made her way cautiously as shadows darkened the pathway. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized for the first time that she was hungry. She’d had nothing to eat since she had arrived at the camp. She was hungry, thirsty, and tired from her exhausting efforts to comfort an old squaw who seemed beyond anyone’s help.

But most of all, she missed Shadow Walker.

Where was he? He had been absent from Rattling Blanket’s lodge the entire afternoon. She needed to see him, if only to settle the nagging uncertainties that seemed to expand with the shadows.

At the sound of a step behind her, Miranda turned, her expectant smile bright.

Miranda’s smile disappeared and her stance went rigid.

Held in dark relief against the brilliant colors of the setting sun, Spotted Bear stood behind her on the trail. She strained to read his expression, but the shadows concealed it. Yet his intent could not be mistaken when he said, “You expected never to see me again, but you were wrong. You feel safe here under Shadow Walker’s protection, but you are wrong again.”

Struggling against an inner trembling, Miranda asked, “What do you want, Spotted Bear?”

“I want what is rightfully mine.”

“What has that to do with me?”

“You are
my
captive—stolen from me by Shadow Walker’s trickery.”

“That’s a lie! It was Shadow Walker who chased me down and captured me, not you. And it was Shadow Walker who brought me back here as his captive.”

“That is what you choose to believe.”

“You told Shadow Walker that you gave up your claim when he spared your life. Was that a lie, too?”

“It was a convenience that freed me for a greater contest to come.”

“I thought the word of a Cheyenne warrior was true.”

“I am true to my word when I say that Shadow Walker will not enjoy your comforts much longer.”

Incensed, Miranda spat, “You speak bravely when Shadow Walker isn’t here to hear you.”

“I come to tell you that your efforts are wasted in trying to turn the camp to your favor. All here know who the true enemy is. Unlike Shadow Walker, they will not be deceived by your duplicity in pretending to care for the old woman.”

“My duplicity?” Miranda seethed, “If I’m so distrusted here, then perhaps you can convince the camp I should be returned to my people.”

“Rather, I would convince the camp to ‘honor’ you as the white horse soldiers ‘honor’ Red Shirt.”

Attempting to counteract the color she felt drain from her face, Miranda replied, “You don’t frighten me. Shadow Walker will—”

Grasping her arms roughly, Spotted Bear pulled Miranda close enough to see the true fierceness of his expression for the first time as he rasped, “
Shadow Walker?
I tire of hearing his name, and I will see the day soon when you will curse his name as well!”

Jerking her arms free, Miranda grated, “Get away from me or I’ll call Shadow Walker right now.”

“You will not call, for to call would chance that my blade will draw Shadow Walker’s blood again—this time more deeply. But I leave you now, because the time is not yet right.” Pausing, Spotted Bear grasped a lock of her light hair, then added, “It is not ended between us.”

Spotted Bear disappeared from the trail as abruptly as
he had come, leaving Miranda shaken.

Reaching the stream moments later, Miranda submerged the water pouch and waited for it to fill, her mind racing. She couldn’t tell Shadow Walker that Spotted Bear had approached her. Spotted Bear was tall and well muscled, a physical match for Shadow Walker in many ways. The combat between them had tested both their strength, and she knew that had the situation been reversed, Spotted Bear would not have hesitated to drive his blade home.

The thought of losing Shadow Walker suddenly more devastating than she could bear, Miranda felt her throat choke tight. She needed to see him, to look up into his eyes and feel his warmth encompass her. She needed to reassure herself that she would not be separated from him.

The water pouch filled, Miranda stood and hurried back up the trail.

Shadow Walker emerged from White Horse’s lodge, his body stiff and his mind racing. His idyll with Miranda had taken him away from the camp only briefly, but so much had happened while he was gone. Unable to reach agreement on the offer extended for a peace parley or for a manner in which to free Red Shirt, Standing Elk, Crying Crow, and Buffalo Chaser had spent their frustration by leading raids on the outlying frontier. Angry, White Horse had called them into council. The dispute between them continued.

Shadow Walker had been drawn into a fray that had grown more wrathful with each afternoon hour that had passed. The result was indecision and a mounting vexation at Red Shirt’s entrapment that Shadow Walker knew would spawn more violence if a plan of action was not agreed upon soon.

Glancing up at the colors the setting sun had painted against the sky, Shadow Walker frowned. Yet other thoughts presently took precedence in his mind: Rattling Blanket, who lay close to death; and Miranda, whose trust in him was new and fragile.

Kneeling beside Rattling Blanket’s sleeping bench minutes later, Shadow Walker looked down into the old squaw’s face. Informed by Walking Bird as he approached the lodge that Miranda had been seen carrying an empty water sack toward the stream, he had not been disturbed to find her absent. Instead, deep emotions firmly restrained, he had settled himself beside Rattling Blanket, remembering himself as a child. The gentle squaw had nursed his wounds and had sat with him until the memory of gunfire in the darkness, army bugles, raging flames, and the cries of the dying faded from his ears. He recalled that she had shared Red Shirt’s pride in him as he had grown, and that she had looked on him as the son who had been denied her.

Tentatively touching her ragged gray braids, Shadow Walker spoke to Rattling Blanket softly. There was no response. His throat tight, he drew himself slowly to his
feet at the sound of familiar footsteps entering the lodge and turned to face Miranda. Noting her expression was shaken, Shadow Walker slipped his arm around her and drew her into the twilight shadows outside the lodge.

The first to break the silence between them, Shadow Walker said in a voice still gruff with emotion, “Running Elk has chanted his prayers and sung his songs to Rattling Blanket’s spirit, to no avail. Her spirit lies between two worlds, uncertain which way to turn. We must wait while she finds the path that was meant for her.”

Studying Miranda’s pale face, Shadow Walker saw sadness there, and an anxiety that caused him concern. He questioned, “Is something wrong, Miranda? Do you fear staying here with Rattling Blanket through the night?”

“No.”

“Do you fear for your safety in the camp?”

Miranda’s lips twitched in an attempt at a smile. “I’m as safe as I’ve ever been here.”

Shadow Walker studied her more closely. Miranda’s great eyes held his. They clung with uncertainty in a way he did not fully comprehend, leaving him unsettled. Reacting instinctively, he slipped his arms around her and drew her against his chest, but the gesture meant to comfort rapidly became more. Miranda’s slender form was sweet against him. It raised a tenderness and yearning that touched him in a way he had not been touched before.

Drawing back from Miranda with regret, Shadow
Walker acknowledged those feelings, saying, “The recent journey we undertook was meant to teach a lesson to you, but it taught me as well. To hold you close is balm to my aching spirit. Were these simpler times and were you Cheyenne, I would show my regard for you by waiting for you outside your lodge, where I would enclose you in my robe when you emerged. Heart to heart, thus hidden while in full view of all, we would open our hearts to each other, and an ease between us would grow that would bind us even closer. I would show you honor by bringing gifts to your relatives, and I would wait for the time when you would look on me with favor.”

Holding her gaze intently, Shadow Walker continued, “But these are not simpler times, and you are not Cheyenne. You are my captive, yet my feelings for you are no less true. So I tell you now, you need fear nothing while I am near, Miranda. I will protect you with my life, for you have become a part of me. This time between us has become more difficult, but we will—”

The sound of approaching footsteps halted Shadow Walker’s words. He turned to see Walking Woman stop a few feet away. Her disapproval apparent, she silently offered two steaming bowls of food. When Shadow Walker had accepted them, she left without speaking a word.

Looking back at Miranda, Shadow Walker felt her confusion, yet he could not suppress a smile when he said,
“All else waits when hunger calls. Come, we will eat.”

Miranda took the bowl Shadow Walker offered her and followed him inside the lodge. Unusually silent, she sat beside him on the sleeping bench while they ate.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Still seated in the waiting room where he had spent most of the day, Major Thurston looked at the empty chairs around him. The room had previously been filled to capacity. He had waited as those chairs emptied one by one, just as he had during the previous days he had spent in the nation’s capital.