Thunder on the Plains (48 page)

The door to her private car opened, and Blaine came inside. He had arrived the morning after Sunny's argument with Vince, wanting to surprise her by arriving sooner than expected. Sunny had hardly had time to recover from the ugly things Vince had told her, or time to contemplate how she would bear leaving Colt forever. Blaine had spent a day going over the Indian problem with Canary and the others, after which he and Sunny, Vince, Stuart, and Vi had left for Chicago.

Blaine was overjoyed that Sunny wanted to move the wedding date closer. He couldn't wait to get back to Chicago and get things in motion. He had attached his own private car to her train, and Vince had done the same. They were all going back together, Vince riding with Blaine while Stuart and Vi and their children used Vince's car. Others were left in charge of the Omaha offices, and Vi had taken leave from her work for the new hospital, so they all could go back together for the grand wedding.

“Hello, darling,” Blaine said, beaming. He walked over to pour himself a drink from a bottle of brandy that had been left on a nearby table from a small party they had shared earlier. Sunny shivered at the happy look on his face. Her life had become a maze of lies and make-believe now. She never wanted Colt or Blaine to know about her mother, or anyone else who didn't already know. She would have to lie to Colt about why she was marrying Blaine, to keep him from all the cruel gossip, and to make sure he wasn't killed. She had to lie to Blaine about loving him, pretend that she was happy. She had even lied to Vi about why she had made her decision, telling the woman that Colt had changed and had a new love interest and had gently told her that the old feelings he once had for her were gone. She suspected Vi didn't believe a word of it.

No one knew about her conversation with Vince, and they never would. As long as she never had to look into Colt's eyes again, she knew she could keep it all to herself. Colt was the only one who might be able to force it out of her; but even if he did, she didn't like to think of the look that she'd see on his face when she told him what her mother had been. She would rather he hated her than for him to look at her that way.

And
hate
me
he
will
, she thought. The thought brought the sick pain back to her stomach with such force that she grasped it with her hand.

“Sunny! Are you sick? I swear you haven't acted right ever since I arrived.” Blaine swallowed the brandy and came over to kneel in front of her. “This should be the happiest time of your life, but you certainly haven't acted like it. You smile, but I see no joy in your eyes.” He grasped her hands. “Don't tell me you're having second thoughts again.” His eyes turned to pleading. “Don't make me wait any longer, Sunny. For months I've thought of nothing but coming back here to marry you. Things are going well in the campaign, and when we get to New York, you can redecorate that big castle of a home I rattle around in any way you want.” He squeezed her hands. “God, it's going to be nice to have you there and have you put a woman's touch to it.” He leaned up and kissed her cheek. “What's wrong, Sunny? Have you been ill?”

Oh, how she wished she could love him; but she knew that she never had. He would never bring out the passion in her that Colt had. “A little,” she answered. There. Another lie. “I'm just worried about that Indian trouble out at the construction site. I don't feel right leaving before finding out what's going to happen.”
What
if
Colt
gets
hurt
and
I'm not there for him!

Blaine just grinned. “Sunny, you're just one of many. For heaven's sake, Canary and his men are there, and if there's any more trouble, Durant himself will go out. They all know we can't be concerned with all that right now. Besides, there are soldiers out there and plenty of men. The thing will get settled and by the time we're back from Europe, the U.P. will be well into Wyoming. Next year will be the elections, and the year after that we'll take a train all the way to Utah for the joining of the rails. That's where they expect to meet, if Strobridge and his boys can get moving. I guess they had a devil of a time up in those mountains last winter.”

He rose, keeping hold of her hands and pulling her up with him. “Sunny, relax and enjoy! Women are going to read about you and wish they were as beautiful, wish they led the life of a princess like you do, that they could have as grand a wedding. And it will get better once we're married. Just wait until you see Europe, the castles, the great cathedrals. You'll love France. I can't wait for you to meet my mother and sister! And Africa—the elephants and giraffes and all sorts of wild things. So much of Africa reminds me of the West, only bigger and more beautiful.” He pulled her into his arms. “You'll love it, Sunny. You'll have the time of your life!”

She rested against him, praying that somehow she could let him consummate their marriage and make him think she was enjoying it. Perhaps Africa was bigger and more beautiful than the American West, but she doubted it would lift her heart to see it. It would only remind her of Colt. She would see him there, riding free.

“You
do
love me, don't you, Blaine?” She looked up at him. “I need you to love me, to be kind, patient.”

“Of
course
I love you. What kind of a question is that?” He smiled, bending down to meet her lips, parting them gently with his tongue. How she wanted the kiss to be sweet and wonderful and stimulating the way Colt's kisses were. But she felt nothing. She could only pretend. She told herself that once they were married, once she had made vows to him and allowed him his husbandly privileges, it would change, especially once they were in Europe. There she would be so far away from the Sunny she had left back on the prairie, the Sunny who had lost a stocking out there…had lost so much more than that. Out there she had become a woman. No matter what she did now, that could not be changed. She would forever belong to someone else, in spite of her vows. She was expected to play a certain role, and she would do it, not to protect herself anymore, but to protect the man she truly loved, and to protect what little honor was left to her parents' memory.

Blaine kissed her neck, deciding her hesitancy was just a fear of the unknown. He would make a woman of her soon enough, and their marriage would be splattered all over the front pages of the New York newspapers—great campaign publicity. He thought how it was too bad about little Elsie Brown, the young girl who did his laundering and mending. He had caught her looks, knew she had been totally enamored with him; and during his long months apart from Sunny he had had a delightful affair with her. He wondered if the girl actually thought he might marry her. How stupid of her to let herself get pregnant. He had shipped her off to a special home in New England for wayward girls, with strict orders that the baby be taken from her once it was born and put in an orphanage so she couldn't come running back with it claiming it was his. Besides, how did he know that it was? Girls of her class usually went down for just about any man who smiled at them and had two dollars in his pocket. She had been a pleasant release for his needs while he campaigned and waited for his marriage to Sunny. Now, at last, the famous Sunny Landers would belong to him! He didn't doubt he would win votes just as much because of her as for himself.

“I'd better get out of here before I'm tempted to carry you back to your private bedroom,” he told her. He pressed her close and whirled her around before setting her on her feet just as Vi opened the door to come inside. The woman looked embarrassed and started to leave. “No, it's all right,” Blaine told her. He looked at Sunny. “I was just leaving.” He leaned down and kissed her again. “We'll be in Chicago by morning.”

She managed a smile and nodded. “I'll see you in the morning, then.”

He gave her a wink and left, and Vi closed the door, then turned to face Sunny, who turned away.

“What are you doing, Sunny? I tried to talk to you once when you first got back, but you fed me a line of garbage. I want the truth. What happened with you and Colt? I know you love him and he loves you, and I say there is no reason why you can't be together. Why are you going ahead with this marriage?”

“I told you. Colt has found someone else, and he said he didn't think it could work anyway. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced he was right. We can't recapture what we felt years ago, Vi. We've both grown and changed. I belong with someone like Blaine. It's that simple.”

“I don't think it is. I think I should write to Colt—”

“No!” Sunny whirled. “I've never been angry with you, Vi, but I will be if you dare to interfere in this! I'll be married and on my way to Europe soon, and I don't want you doing something that will bring Colt running, do you hear?”

“Bring him running? I thought you said you and he agreed this was the way it should be—that he had found someone else.”

Sunny's eyes teared. “Help me do this, Vi. Please! If you never do another thing for me, leave this alone. Believe me, it's for Colt's sake. It's for
everyone's
sake! Just leave it alone! I'm begging you.” She shivered, and a tear ran down her cheek. “You've got to trust me on this, Vi. Please, please don't contact Colt. I'll write him myself, after the wedding.”

Vi shook her head. “I don't know what's happened, but I
do
know that you and Colt didn't just shake hands and say good-bye out there. When I heard you had gone out alone, I had a pretty good idea why. Now you're marrying Blaine, and I don't see any happiness in your eyes. Does Vince have something to do with this? It seems awfully strange, him being in Omaha when you got back and all.”

“It doesn't matter, Vi. I've made my decision. It's better that one or two people get hurt than a whole lot of people.”
I
can't let the ugly rumor get to your children about their grandfather
, she thought.
And
I
can't let Colt be murdered, not my precious Colt
. “Blaine and I have been friends for a long time. He'll be good to me. Please just be here for me when I get back and don't make all of this more difficult than it already is. That's what you'll be doing if you get involved.”

Vi breathed deeply with pity. “I think you're wrong, but I suppose it's your decision, Sunny. You know I'm here when you need me.”

Sunny reached out and embraced her, clinging tightly to the woman and again longing to have had a real mother when she was growing up. What kind of mother would Lucille Madison have been? All she had had to cling to until now was the thought that she was a beautiful, pure, loving woman who would have been a wonderful mother if she had not died. She had at least been proud of the memory. Now she did not even have that.

***

Colt watched the intense fighting from a distance, torn between duty to the railroad and the army to which he had once belonged, and loyalty to his own race. In other skirmishes with Indians he had had no problem defending himself and the railroad, but this time White Buffalo was involved. This time it was more personal. The man had saved his life.

Still, to remain uninvolved was not easy. Men were being killed in that valley between rocky bluffs, the haunting burial ground just beyond them. It seemed strangely symbolic. Dust rolled, the sound of gunfire filled the air, horses whinnied. Part of him wanted to go and defend Sunny's railroad, fight alongside soldiers as he had in the war. Another part of him wanted to turn on those very soldiers and join White Buffalo in one last effort at preserving something precious and sacred.

He had explained to the lieutenant that White Buffalo would accept nothing but a route around the burial ground. Lieutenant Tracer had sent a message back by wire to Omaha, and the reply had come. “The railroad goes through. Do what you have to do.”

It was all the lieutenant needed. He and his men had attacked at dawn the second day after they arrived, charging forward, more men circling around the village. White Buffalo and his warriors were ready. They exacted a surprising toll on the soldiers. Colt nearly groaned at just staying back and doing nothing, and he wished there could be two of him. The soldiers retreated and now were attacking again in a battle that lasted for over an hour. Through the dust and mayhem he noticed one soldier caught under a fallen horse. Dancer whinnied and pranced, sensing his master's anxiety.

Colt could hold back no longer. He galloped Dancer down the hill, and in minutes he charged directly into the melee, riding up to the soldier who was pinned under his horse, a young man of perhaps seventeen. Colt dismounted and hurried to the boy's side, pushing at the dead horse with all his strength.

“Get me out! Get me out!” the young man screamed, his chest bleeding.

Horses thundered past them, men shooting and yelping. Colt gritted his teeth and pushed again. “Try harder to pull yourself,” he shouted to the soldier. The young man put his free leg against the horse's back and used it to push himself away from the animal when Colt managed to lift it just enough that he could get free. Colt fell panting and sweating against the dead horse for a moment. He turned to the young soldier. “I'll get you to safety,” he shouted, looking around for Dancer.

Just then a warrior rode down on him, screaming, his face painted, a tomahawk raised. Colt rose up and grabbed him by the bone breastplate he wore, ripping him from his horse. At the same time he felt the tomahawk glance off him at the right side of his back. Both men went down, but Colt stayed down longer because of his wound. Before he could rise he felt another blow to the back of his right thigh. There was no time to think about the pain or wonder how bad the wound might be. It didn't matter now if he had to fight the very Indians he had once befriended. It mattered only that he save himself. He had to live—for Sunny.