Zach’s face lit up when he recognized Cap
tain Frank Purdue, a friend of long-standing.
They had served together in the Federal Army during the War Between the States. They were
both from Boston, and their families were
close friends. “Frank, what are you doing in
the West? I thought you’d left the army after the war.”
“I found I liked the life and reenlisted to
serve on the Western frontier. I’ve been Deputy Post Commander at Fort Laramie for six
months. What about you?”
“I’ve left the army.” Zach revealed. “Mercer
Freighting is now serving the West. I’m also
married and have a son. We live near Denver.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Purdue said, pumping
Zach’s hand. ”A son. Congratulations. I imagine those are your freight wagons that just
arrived.”
As they spoke of old times, an idea began
to form in Zach’s mind. When Purdue asked Zach to join him in his office for a drink Zach
accepted eagerly.
Seated in a comfortable leather chair in
Purdue’s office, Zach sipped his whiskey and
planned his strategy. When Purdue asked about
his wife’s family Zach was as truthful as he could be.
“My God, that’s an incredible story,” Purdue said after Zach told him about Abby and her
brother having been raised by the Cheyenne.
“Thank God Abby saved your life. Whatever
happened to her brother? You can’t help feeling sorry for him.”
Zach had awaited just such an opening.
“Wind Rider is being held in your stockade.”
“What?” Incredulous, Purdue leaned forward.
“You mean that white Indian in the stockade is
your wife’s brother?”
“I haven’t seen him, but I have every reason to suspect that he is. And Wind Rider would
never rape a woman. If you knew the Cheyenne
at all, you’d know that they do not rape. Has
the woman accused him? If so, I’d like to ques
tion her myself.”
Purdue grew thoughtful. “As far as I know,
formal charges have yet to be filed against
Mr. Larson. He claims he and the woman were
married in an Indian ceremony. Lieutenant
Gilmore denies that any kind of ceremony took
place. He is to investigate the claims and wire his findings to us.”
“I’m inclined to believe Wind Rider,” Zach
said. “I know the man. My wife dotes on him.
During all those years with the Indians, he
watched over and protected her. He’s not a
savage, Frank.”
Purdue rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Per
haps we should talk to the man. Lieutenant
Gilmore might have been overzealous in his
duty. I’ve heard rumors that Gilmore is quite
taken with Miss McLin. That’s the woman’s
name—Hannah McLin.”
“I’d appreciate anything you could do,
Frank,” Zach said gratefully. “If you saw fit
to release him into my custody I’d see that
he causes the army no more trouble. If he’s
identified himself as Ryder Larson, I seriously
doubt he intends to return to Powder River
country and the Sioux.”
Purdue strode to the door, opened it, and
called out, “Corporal Finnigan, have the prisoner in the stockade brought here.”
“You mean the white Indian, sir?”
“That’s right, Corporal.”
*
*
*
With growing alarm, Wind Rider listened
to the murmur of voices outside his door.
It wasn’t mealtime yet; he wondered if they
had decided to execute him without a trial.
He knew little about military justice or white
man’s laws, and he wouldn’t put anything past
them. He thought briefly about trying to escape
and taking his chances on getting killed. That
might be preferable to being executed. When
the door opened the sergeant of the guard
stood aside, allowing another soldier to enter
his cell. Wind Rider noted that the man
was young and looked inexperienced, and his
hopes soared. Maybe escape wasn’t impossible
after all.
“The captain wants to see you, Larson,” the
corporal said. He stood well back from the dangerous-looking man. “I’m to take you to him.” He drew his weapon and pointed it at
Wind Rider.
Wind Rider held out his arms. “Remove the
chains.”
Corporal Finnigan shook his head. “I’m not
crazy. Move, Larson; Captain Purdue doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Sending the man a black scowl, Wind Rider shuffled from the austere room, his stride limited by the length of the chains. When
Finnigan prodded him cruelly he swung around
and snarled, pleased when the corporal’s face
whitened and he retreated in haste.
It seemed to take forever to reach post headquarters, but Wind Rider was in no hurry to hear his death sentence. His one regret was
leaving Hannah in the hands of men like Harley
and Gilmore.
Finnigan held open the door so Wind Rider could enter the captain’s office, then stationed himself just inside the door in case of trouble.
His face impassive, Wind Rider directed his
gaze at the man sitting behind the desk. He
did not see Zach, seated off to one side.
Zach leaped to his feet, angered to see the fiercely proud Wind Rider chained like an animal. “I say, Captain, was it necessary to place the man in chains?”
Purdue shrugged. “It was Gilmore’s order.
With the General gone, and the entire fort to
run, I’ve had little time to devote to the pris
oner.”
Wind Rider’s eyes widened in shock. Zach
Mercer was the last person he expected to see at
Fort Laramie. What was Abby’s husband doing
here? he wondered. Not that he wasn’t glad to
see him. He hoped Tears Like Rain was with him; he longed to set eyes on her one last time
before he walked the spirit path.
“This man is my brother-in-law, Captain. The
charges against him are totally false. Where is his accuser?”
“I understand that Miss McLin has been
returned to the man who purchased her inden
ture. And Lieutenant Gilmore has been tem
porarily attached to the Colorado militia in
Denver. He is supposed to get a deposition
from the woman and question some men
who have seen the prisoner riding with Indian
raiders/’
“If the woman didn’t admit to being raped
before she left the fort, I doubt she’ll do so any time in the future,” Zach said with such
firm conviction, the captain took another look at Wind Rider.
“I suspect it’s too embarrassing for the wom
an to talk about,” Purdue reasoned. “She must have admitted it to Lieutenant Gilmore or he
wouldn’t have made those charges.”
Zach took two long strides until he stood
beside Wind Rider. He placed a hand on his
shoulder. “That’s pretty flimsy evidence. I sug
gest you turn him loose. I’ll personally accept responsibility for his behavior.”
Wind Rider started violently. At one time he
had hated Zach Mercer, but now he couldn’t
ask for a better friend. He turned to the captain
and said, “Hannah McLin is my wife. I would
never harm her.” That was almost true. Her
lies had hurt him deeply, and he remembered
how she had clung to the lieutenant after tell
ing Wind Rider she’d go anywhere he chose so
they could be together. She spoke with a forked
tongue. When he saw her again, if he ever did,
he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.
“Harumph.” The captain cleared his throat.
“An Indian ceremony, if one actually took place,
isn’t legal. In the eyes of the civilized world, Miss
McLin is not your wife.”
“Civilized men do not kill innocent women and children,” Wind Rider spat, his eyes blaz
ing. “Are you forgetting Sand Creek?”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Larson.
Unfortunate atrocities have taken place on both
sides. But having a man like Zach Mercer speak
ing on your behalf is good enough for me.”
“Then you’ll let him go?” Zach pressed deter
minedly.
Purdue rested his chin on his tented fingers,
staring at Wind Rider, still undecided. “Where
do you intend to go if I free you, Mr. Larson? If
it’s back to Red Cloud’s village, I fear releasing
you is out of the question.”
Zach flashed Wind Rider a warning glance.
“I will go to Denver with Zach,” Wind Rider said. “I wish to see my sister and new niece or
nephew.”
“Nephew,” Zach said, grinning proudly.
“I suppose the militia can find you easily
enough if you make trouble in Denver. But
I’ll hold your brother-in-law responsible if you break the law.”
Wind Rider flashed Zach a grateful look. “I
will not break the law.”
“And meanwhile, if Lieutenant Gilmore finds
proof that you rode the warpath with your
Indian friends, the army will come looking for you. Do you understand?”
Wind Rider nodded, though he seriously
doubted anyone could be found who had seen
him riding with the Sioux.
“Remove the chains,” Zach said crisply.
Purdue called to the corporal standing just inside the door, ordering him to remove Wind
Rider’s chains. He approached Wind Rider gin
gerly and quickly unlocked the fetters. They fell away, and Wind Rider kicked them aside,
massaging the raw spots they had left on his
wrists.
“We’ll be leaving immediately, Frank,” Zach
said. “I sincerely thank you for what you’ve
done for my family. I won’t forget it.”
“I hope neither of us will regret this,” Purdue
mumbled as he stared into the silver depths
of Wind Rider’s eyes. He hoped he hadn’t
made a mistake. The man looked dangerous and untrustworthy. If he didn’t respect Zach
Mercer, he’d never have let the white Indian
go, though God knew it wasn’t Larson’s fault
he and his sister had been captured and raised
by Indians.
“Let’s go home,” Zach said, slapping Wind Rider on the shoulder. “We’ve got a lot of
catching up to do.”
“There is something I must do first,” Wind
Rider said once they stood outside head
quarters. “I go to find my wife.”
Hannah had to admit that life as an indentured servant was less difficult with Trent
Gilmore making Mr. Harley abide by the
rules. The drab brown dress she now wore
was much like the one she had worn when
she’d run away all those months before, but
at least this one was clean and not so rag
ged. And since Mr. Harley hadn’t suggested that she sell herself to his customers, she no
longer tried to make herself as unattractive as
possible.
During her long absence Harley’s frail wife had died, and now the man was looking at Hannah with renewed interest. His assessing glances worried her, and she was grateful that Trent visited the inn several times a week to check on her.
“Quit daydreaming, girl,” Harley grumbled
as he caught Hannah staring off into space.
“The reward I paid for your return has to be repaid, and you can’t do it by woolgathering. Get into the kitchen and help Conchita prepare tonight’s meal. If it wasn’t for that damn lieu
tenant, you’d be earning extra money on your
back. Spreading your legs for my customers can’t be any worse than spreading them for
Injuns.”
Color flooded Hannah’s cheeks. She might
regret many things, but becoming a woman
in Wind Rider’s arms wasn’t one of them. It took very little effort to recall Wind Rider, and even less effort to remember the way he made her feel. He was an incredible mass of sinewed strength—a powerful, imposing creature, who
had been taught to survive by Indians. Just
thinking about him made the blood rush to her head and her stomach flutter. Until she met Wind Rider, she hadn’t known the meaning of
pleasure. Unfortunately, she would never know
that pleasure again.
Hannah hurried into the kitchen to help
Conchita, welcoming the opportunity to escape
Mr. Harley’s notice. She hated the way he’d been
ogling her lately. Something was festering in his
mind, something she didn’t dare think about.