White Dreams (3 page)

Though he dreaded to learn what mischief she was caught up in, he chuckled softly. “You’d have loved this one, Maggie. So full of life and spunk.” He hesitated. “Maybe a bit too much.”

Raising this girl would be difficult, not half as easy as the military career to which he’d once thought he’d escape. But life, and luck, had brought him back. The last time he’d seen Renny, she’d only been a few days old, an infant with big blue eyes and a thatch of golden fuzz covering her tiny head. How difficult it had been to leave her, especially with his wife’s sister, Hester Mae, trying to take control of both his children. He thanked his stars that his sister Ida had agreed to raise his daughters.

But now his youngest daughter was nine, full of rebellion and resentment and not in the least bit happy to have him back in her life—especially when it meant leaving the sister who’d raised her to return home with a father she’d never known.

Reaching the river, he paused, listened, then followed the sounds of hushed whispers. He found the two girls kneeling near a small cluster of rocks. “Ranait! What are you doing out here?”

Startled at his bark, Renny dropped a large rock back on top of the pile. Standing, she placed her body in front of it. Beneath the light from the moon and stars, she looked guilty as sin. His gaze narrowed when she hurried to stand before him, hands behind her back.

He refrained from looking toward the piled rocks and gave her his complete attention, saying nothing. Years of dealing with his soldiers had taught him that silence often broke down barriers, whereas questions frequently brought forth lies and excuses.

After several long seconds, Renny squirmed. “Nothing. Just playing. What do you want?” she asked, her tone sullen and resentful.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I gave you orders to remain within the boundaries of the camp. Return to the village immediately. It’s not safe for you to wander so far.” Hearing the harsh command in his tone, he winced, fully aware that his actions were much more authoritarian than loving. Her glare of resentment reminded him that he had a long way to go in learning how to speak to a daughter.

“I’m safe here.” She pointed. “Lone Wolf stands guard, just over there.” Her words ended on a smug note. Behind her, Morning Moon remained silent and watchful.

Drawing himself up, he held up his hand, palm out. “Do not argue, Ranait. As your father, I’m ordering you to return. You are not to leave the safety of the village at night again.”

Renny’s lips trembled but she didn’t cry. She glared at him, her small arms crossed over her narrow chest, furious defiance in her eyes. “My name is Weshawee. It means Red Girl.”

Staring into defiant eyes the same blue-gray shade as his own, he felt as helpless as the day he’d cradled her in his arms and named her. She’d been so tiny, so fragile. And with Margaret Mary gone, with everything changed…he’d been afraid of her, afraid of failing both his daughters without his wife at his side to guide him. The same fear of failure assailed him now, but this time there wasn’t anywhere to run.

What if I can’t do this? Maybe she’s better here, with Emma.

A soft wind caressed the back of his neck.
No. You know what is right. The two of you belong together. You won’t fail.

The voice in his head was familiar, so like that of his beloved wife—giving him the courage he so desperately needed.

Frustrated with his silence, Renny stamped her foot when it became apparent he wasn’t going to argue or plead with her. “I wish you’d stayed away.” She backed away, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“I hate you! I want to stay here with Emma.” She grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled. Both girls ran back toward the circle of tipis behind him.

Grady’s shoulders sagged. After months of sleepless nights and long days in the saddle searching for his daughters, his body felt close to collapse. Running a hand over his bearded jaw, he wondered if things would ever be right between them.

“She’s confused. In time, she’ll understand.”

At the sound of the soft, husky voice, Grady shifted and glanced over his shoulder. An Indian woman stood several feet behind him, her face pale and drawn beneath the gentle sweep of the moon’s glow. It was Star Dreamer. An emotion stirred deep within him. He owed this kind, gentle woman more than he could ever repay. She’d befriended both Emma and Renny, and had been instrumental in saving their lives.

He bowed politely in greeting, removing his hat and holding it behind his back. “She’ll never forgive me for abandoning her and her sister…and it’s no more than I deserve.” His words were spoken coldly, matter-of-factly. He had little tolerance for those who shirked their responsibilities, and this was his.

“You are here for her now,” Star pointed out.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” There was truth to her words. He was trying to do right, to make amends. But would it be enough? “I fear my reentrance into her life has come too late.”

Star shook her head, sending silky strands of black hair swinging across the tops of her shoulders. “You must not believe that. From what Emma has told me, it was Weshawee’s need to find you that made her leave home to come in search of you. Weshawee needed you then, and she needs you now. You are her
ate,
her father.”

“Ah, yes, she needed me. But it seems my headstrong daughter has changed her mind.”

Her gentle laugh filled him with a strange warmth. “It is easy to wish for things, but when we get what we wish for we must accept the change that comes with it. That is always hard to accept, even for a small child. Give her time. She’s frightened of the unknown.” Star reached out and touched his shoulder, then walked past.

Grady pivoted, his eyes tracking her. He didn’t add that he too was scared of the changes in his life. The thought of leaving the army—it had provided a haven from his feelings, from his responsibilities—to venture back into the chaotic civilian life he’d fled now left him feeling as though he walked along a narrow ridge, high above a deep chasm. One wrong step either way and he’d plummet into oblivion.

Grateful for the Indian woman’s wise words, Grady replaced his hat and prayed that in time Renny would come to regard him as a beloved father. So much had happened in the last six months, since Emma and Renny had first disappeared on their way to Fort Pierre to find him. His well-ordered life had turned to shambles and beneath it all, he craved what he’d once known with his wife: happiness. Peace. Joy.

He squared his shoulders, determined to salvage what he could of his family. If he had to work harder, perhaps that was only what he deserved. Renny had a right to be angry with him; he should have been strong enough to overcome his pain at the loss of his beloved wife. He should have realized the army was not an answer, but an escape. And most of all, he should never have betrayed Margaret Mary by fleeing from her legacy—her two daughters.

Determined to do the right thing, he trailed after Star. He watched as she knelt down at the stream to cup water in her hands and drink. She sat back on her heels, silent and still, lost in thought, his presence forgotten. Her head fell back.

Transfixed, Grady couldn’t take his eyes from the slim column of her neck and the sharp jut of her jawbone as she lifted her face to the silver light of the moon. Her hands slid up her throat, over her jaw and into her hair. Tiny dewdrops of water glistened along her throat like pearls. Thick black lashes smudged her pale face, and her lips parted briefly as she drew in a deep breath.

His own breathing turned ragged. Though only seconds ticked by, he felt as if time had come to a stop. Then she tipped her chin back down, her hair swinging forward, hiding her face as she stared out over the misty stream.

Moonlight turned her black locks silver. Unlike the other women in the village, who wore their hair in long, thick braids, Star Dreamer wore hers short—a sign of her recent bereavement. Yet even in her grief, her hair shorn, Star Dreamer remained strikingly beautiful. An aura of fragility surrounded her, adding to her allure. His protective instincts rose. This woman drew him, made him want to ease the lines of grief from her face and put a smile on her lips.

He was attracted.

It horrified him, yet a plainer and simpler truth didn’t exist. It didn’t matter that it was against his will, or that he’d vowed to never love again. There hadn’t been another woman in his life—in any capacity—since the day he’d buried Margaret Mary, and he’d sworn there never would be. He would not feel that pain again.

But like a caged, starving animal, desperate for a morsel of food left just out of reach, a strange hunger tore at his soul.

His hand lifted, needing to touch this woman, wanting to pull her hair back from her face so he could gaze upon her moonlit beauty. He yearned to trace the taut flesh of her throat from the hollow where a hidden pulse beat, and kiss the soft skin beneath her chin as his hands skimmed upward to cradle her face in his large hands. Was her pale, golden skin as soft as her voice? Would a kiss ease the trembling of her full lips? His blood quickened, and the feel of it in his veins shocked him out of his foolish fantasies.

Grady angrily shook off his physical reaction. He was no better than the soldier he’d ordered back to camp. Taking a step back, he tried to convince himself it was gratitude that drew him to her, or maybe it was the sadness cloaking her. Or maybe he’d been out in the wilds of the western frontier too long.

He blamed his momentary weakness on the air, the marriage of his daughter and the bright moon and stars overhead. Grady backed away, intending to leave Star Dreamer to her solitude. He remembered his own need to be alone in the months following Maggie’s death. The howl of a lone coyote and the buzz of crickets near the water’s edge broke the silence. Suddenly she stood and joined him.

Uncomfortably aware of his body’s weakness, he sought a distraction. His gaze slid to the pile of rocks with which his daughter had been playing. “Perhaps it’s in our best interests to see what our girls were up to down here.”

“Where your daughter is concerned, that is a wise choice.” Humor once more threaded its way into her tone.

Star joined him as he lifted a flat-bottomed rock off the top of the pile. Together, they peered into a deep, dark cavity in the mound. “What the—?” Reaching in, Grady pulled out several pouches.

Star opened one. “Food.”

“Same here.” He dumped a bunch of dried chokecherries into his palm. Each pouch was stuffed with provisions: nuts, berries, dried meat. Now he understood why she seemed to have an abnormally large appetite. She was hiding food.

Star looked puzzled. “Why are they storing this? Winter is over.”

The full weight of parenthood dropped onto his shoulders. He released a long, drawn-out breath. “It’s my guess that my daughter will go to any length to avoid returning home with me—including running away.

“I thought to give her some more time here, with me, so she could get to know me before I took her away, but it’s not working. As long as she’s here, she won’t give me a chance.” He paused. “I can’t risk having her run off. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

“I will be sorry to see her go. She brings a spark to us and to our lives.” Star helped him put the pouches back into the cairn and accepted his hand.

Staring down into Star’s upturned face, Grady longed to smooth the lines along her forehead, bracketing her mouth and nose and etching her pale golden skin. He took a mental step back. He had enough problems without taking on anyone else’s. “Shall we rejoin the others?”

She turned, every line in her body stiff and unyielding. He felt as though he’d suggested she walk to her own execution. Again, understanding flowed between them. She was no more eager than he to return to the sounds of gaiety floating on the night air. Yet he couldn’t remain out here for much longer, no matter how much he enjoyed gazing at her. There was too much to do in order to be ready to leave at first light.

Even so, he hesitated. His daughter’s new sister-in-law looked as though she needed a friend. And from deep inside him, that starving, lonely creature he recognized as his own soul cried out for companionship. What harm could it do to remain with Star Dreamer a bit longer? After all, this quiet woman posed no threat to his heart. He was leaving tomorrow, and when next he saw her, she’d probably be remarried. He ignored the twinge that thought caused.

Surprising himself, he waved a hand at the meandering stream. “Would you care to join me for a walk instead?”

Star considered the colonel’s offer. She’d come out here to be alone, to avoid having to pretend all was well. Yet solitude invited morbid contemplation of the future, guilt over the past. Perhaps with the colonel, she would find safe ground. He seemed a kindred spirit. Both of them wore their inner torment like a cloak. Each had lost his mate, each worried over his children and neither knew how to throw off the tangled veils of pain and grief.

“I’ll understand if you’d rather return to your family.” Grady waited patiently for her to decide.

Star smiled weakly. Though her family meant well, her emotions were too raw and she felt too close to breaking to face more of their well-meaning concern. “I’d like to walk. But don’t feel you must remain out here with me. I will be safe on my own.”

Grady indicated the path before them. “I’d be honored to have your company this evening, Star Dreamer.”

Star smiled at his formality. Emma’s father was such a nice man. It was hard to believe he’d abandoned his children when their mother died. The love he felt for his daughters was plain to see. It emanated from him, as did his lingering grief, and she knew only too well how grief could eat at a person and change her.

They walked in companionable silence with neither feeling the need to talk. They followed the winding river away from camp. Star measured her steps a bit slower so she could watch him. Tall and handsome, he was so different from the men in her village and the trappers they occasionally traded with. He wore an air of authority with the ease most wore their clothing. The man was formal, polite and dignified, yet there was a savage wildness about him as well.

Unlike the men in her village, he sported a bushy beard that hid his jaw and chin. The facial hair, a shade darker than the bright waves of red hair that fell to his shoulders, fascinated her.

He slowed his steps so they were walking side by side. Nearly a head taller, Grady’s large frame could easily have frightened or intimidated her, but instead, in his presence she felt protected, safe. She gave him a grateful look and felt a wave of pleasure pass through her.

Though she couldn’t see his eye color in the darkness, she knew—she’d stolen glances at him over the past few days—that his eyes were the warm, gentle blue-gray of a lazy summer day. When he was worried or displeased, the color changed: the gray became sharper, like the bite of the cold breeze that crept into her tipi during long winter nights.

Frowning, she realized she’d spent a fair amount of time observing this Grady O’Brien since his arrival. Their shoulders bumped, startling her. She stumbled. His arm reached out to steady her, his touch warm but impersonal. So why did her heart leap to her throat?

Uneasy with the thought, Star noted the position of the moon in the night sky. It was time to return and collect her son and daughter from their play. They’d been up far too late already. A few more minutes, she promised herself. She just needed a few more minutes.

“It’s a beautiful night. I shall miss seeing this vast array of stars when we return.” Grady’s low voice drew her from her thoughts.

“You cannot see the stars from your home in the city?”

“Not like this. Here I feel so close to the heavens. Emma is fortunate to be able to enjoy this. I hope she will be happy among your people.” He paused. “It doesn’t seem right to leave her behind when I take Renny back to St. Louis.”

Star took the poignancy of his tone as an excuse to look at him. His expression was tortured, revealing again how deeply he felt toward his daughters and what they’d suffered. She gave him a pointed look. “Emma
is
loved. She is a wonderful friend and sister and is cherished here. She has given my brother—and the rest of us—much, as has Renny. Renny is—” How could she describe the young, energetic child? “Renny is Renny,” she finished on a laugh. “She brings joy to all.”

“Joy and a bit more,” he agreed good-naturedly.

Star tried to find the words to reassure him. His child was stubborn, but beneath that, Star knew the girl desperately wanted to believe her father loved her. But words wouldn’t be enough. Renny needed proof of her father’s love—and that would take a strength that Star knew Colonel O’Brien had, though it had long gone unused. Still, she felt sure it was only a matter of time.

Star sighed, wishing that was the case with herself and Morning Moon, but time was her enemy. As Morning Moon grew and matured, the girl’s visions would grow in power and frequency, as Star’s own had. She closed her eyes.
Please,
she begged the Spirits,
please spare my daughter this. I will do whatever you ask, but spare my child.
In her blind supplication, she stubbed her toe on a large stone in the path and cried out.

Grady caught her arm. “Easy, there.” He led her to a large boulder near the river and coaxed her to sit. “Are you all right? You seem troubled.” Before she could answer, he continued. “I want to help you. Surely there must be something I can do in return for all you’ve done for me and my daughters.”

Ignoring the pain in her foot, Star’s mouth trembled. Without thought, she blurted, “No one can help me. I’m cursed.”

Kneeling before her, Grady grasped her cold fingers. “What?”

His hands warmed hers, eased the anxiety from the pit of her stomach. Tears trickled from Star’s eyes as she gave up; it was no use trying to keep her feelings inside. If anyone would understand, it suddenly seemed that it would be this man with the soft blue gaze. “It’s true. While time is your friend, Colonel, it is my enemy…” And then the words poured out. In short, halting sentences, Star told him of her gift, of the torment that came with it, and how she’d failed in the past. Then she told him of Morning Moon.

The dam burst; Star’s fear over the future overflowed. “She can’t be allowed to develop this gift. I’d hoped it would die with me, but now…” Now she longed to jump up and run from it, hide and deny its very existence. Yet the gift was a part of her, a part of the land and the Spirits around her. She stared into Grady’s confused eyes. He didn’t understand.

She gave herself an angry shake. Well, of course he didn’t. How could he? He wasn’t one of them.

Grady opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, she felt a pounding in her head. His voice faded into nothingness. His image blurred, his red hair darkening, filling her vision. Then he was gone and she was alone, trapped on a narrow, rocky ledge, teetering against a buffeting wind.

Another vision. Too weary, too exhausted mentally and emotionally to fight, she watched herself plunge off the ledge into nothingness.

Star gave a cry, but as she did Colonel O’Brien again appeared—this time on the ledge far above. He jumped, came after her. She heard the deep resonance of his voice as he shouted for her to grab his hand. She tried, but he was too far away.

Then his voice changed, became the shriek of an eagle. His hands lengthened and became wings. He arrowed down past her, spread his wings wide and caught her in his soft embrace.

All at once they were one. The pair of them were soaring through the air, across a brilliant blue sky, through wispy clouds, following the course of the sparkling rivers below. They dipped, turned and flew toward the sun before banking to float on a warm breeze.

Star saw what the eagle saw, felt its exultation as they flew through the heavens, leaving their grief and pain behind. Far below, her brother’s village faded as the eagle carried her off, away to some wonderful new world.

Then anxiety washed over her. This was not the first time she’d flown with this eagle. The memory returned, her riding the great bird, watching as another dived past. A hawk! But what was its prey? Oh, yes, that had been the vision that had warned her of the danger to Emma. But this time there were no dark overtones. Only the ringing echoes of laughter. Star turned her head to see where it came from. To her surprise, she saw Renny and Morning Moon riding on her back—the eagle’s back. And their eyes were bright with joy.

What did this mean? As suddenly as it had come, the vision fled. A sense of peace filled Star, even as she collapsed.

The eagle.

Twice now she’d flown with this eagle in her dreams. The first, the great bird had turned out to represent Colonel O’Brien. She’d realized it the first moment she’d seen him ride toward her—handsomely dressed as he was in his bright blue uniform. He had been the answer to that dream; he’d helped save his daughter from her cowardly kidnappers. But this time, what did the vision mean? What was she to do?

The sound of Colonel O’Brien’s worried voice drew Star back to reality… “Perhaps we should head back.”

She opened her eyes. “I’m all right,” she reassured him. And she was. In fact, she felt relaxed, calm. It was something she hadn’t felt in so long, she’d forgotten how it felt. If only all her visions could be so soothing.

Staring up into the colonel’s worried face, it wasn’t hard to recapture the feelings and emotions of her vision. As usual, the effects of the Sight stayed with her. Sometimes they lingered for a few minutes, sometimes for hours—days. And right now, all she felt was secure, safe.

Grady held out his hand, his brows drawn together as he watched her.

Star accepted his help up and didn’t protest when he turned them back toward the village, his hand lightly holding her elbow as he guided her toward the fading campfire. His touch was comforting, and suddenly she felt very close to this man. Even though he didn’t understand her gift of sight, he hadn’t shied away from her.

Like most whites, he couldn’t comprehend the close ties her people had to the land around them. Earth. Sky. Air. Water. Those were
waken,
sacred. And because her people lived as one with their surroundings, the Spirits had given them special gifts to help them survive.

She shoved aside her fears of not being able to live up to her village’s expectations, her sense of failed duty. Putting her own problems aside, she thought of Colonel O’Brien’s plans to leave in the morning. “Renny and Morning Moon will miss each other.”

Grady sighed. “I know. Renny would rather stay with you than return home with me, her own father. I’d wished to give her more time…but that is impossible.” He smiled ruefully over at her. “Please forgive me my moment of self-pity. Renny’s attitude toward me is no more than I deserve.”

Star came to a sudden stop. The colonel’s words swam in her mind. In her vision she’d flown with the eagle—away from her village. Away from everything she feared. And she’d felt safe, free. A soft breeze caressed her face. She inhaled deeply as her mind latched on to the whisper of Spirits.

Clear as the sky had been in her vision, Star knew this man was the answer. If she and her children left with him—flew away—perhaps her daughter wouldn’t be able to develop the Sight. The gift came from the Spirits. In a great big city filled with noise, wooden buildings and a life so different from that which she knew, the Spirits wouldn’t be able to find either of them. The more she thought about it, the more she knew leaving was the answer.

But would the colonel take her and her children to the city with him and Renny? He had to. She moved in front of him. “Renny and Morning Moon can stay together.”

His brows lowered. “I don’t see how. I wish it was possible, but I cannot stay—and I will never leave the child again.” He drew a deep breath. “She’ll miss your daughter and Emma. When we get back to St. Louis, I’ll hire a woman with a child her age to watch over her and run my house. Perhaps then she won’t be so lonely.”

Star drew herself straight and took a deep breath. Her idea would work. “Morning Moon and I could go with you. I’ll care for Renny. Now you will not have to hire a stranger, and I can stay as long as you and Renny have need of me.” Her gaze latched on to his, and inside she willed him to agree.

Surprised, Grady rocked back on his heels. “I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t ask you to leave your home and your people.”

Afraid he wouldn’t let her explain, that he’d turn her down, Star reached out and grasped his hand, drawing on his warmth and strength to give her the courage to do what she must. “You said earlier you wished you could do something for me. I’m asking you to take us with you.”

Grady rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to leave your family and friends?”

Star glanced toward her village. “I will do anything to stop my curse from destroying my daughter’s life. Leaving
is
the only way. If you will not take me, I will take her away on my own.”

Grady removed his hat, ran a palm over his hair, then replaced it. “What of your family, your parents?”

Hope flared in Star. He hadn’t said no. He was considering it. “It is my decision to make,” she said. “Perhaps I will eventually return. You will take me?”

Heartbeats ticked by. He gripped both hands behind his back and regarded her intently. “You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

Star held her breath.

Finally, Grady nodded. “I will take you. On two conditions.” He paced before her, each step measured. His movements were precise, and she admired him quietly as he thought. She held her breath, excitement running through her.

This was the answer! She would do anything he asked, for it would save her daughter from the anguish she had known.

Grady stopped before her, and briefly Star found herself noticing the way his uniform was stretched across his broad shoulders. She had little trouble understanding how this man had become an officer; he seemed to exude power.

“First, as you will be in a foreign land, you must allow me to oversee your well-being and safety. And second, even though you are related to my daughter by marriage, I will not take advantage of you by allowing you to labor without compensation. I insist on paying you a fair wage for taking care of my daughter.”

Star opened her mouth to accept. He held up his hand.

“Here you do not need money, but it’s a different matter in the city. There, I’d have to hire someone to run my household and watch over Renny. I’d much rather entrust them to you. Also, this way you will not be beholden to me. When you choose to leave, you will have the means to do so.”