Cheyenne Captive (48 page)

The officers at supper were noticeably, smitten with her delicate beauty and vied with each other for her attention. It never failed to make Austin nervous to see how men were affected by her. He still couldn’t believe he was going to be lucky enough to marry her. For years, he’d lived in nervous apprehension that some more charming, more handsome man such as his brother Todd, might steal her away from him.

At dawn the next morning, he went out to where the patrol was saddling up. A tall, lanky sergeant approached and saluted. “Meridith, sir, assigned to you.”

Austin saluted. “Oh, yes, Meridith, I think the colonel told me at supper that you’re from Vermont. What do you think of this new Territory?”

“Hate it!” the New Englander spat between his gapped teeth. “Like to see houses and trees myself. Nary a thing to see out here but miles and miles of emptiness!”

“Interesting that you feel that way,” Austin chuckled. “I’m sort of acquiring a taste for the endless horizon; gives me a giddy sense of freedom I’ve never known before.”

“They do say sometimes settlers out here go crazy from not enough contact with other folks and lookin’ at all that nothin’. I’m hopin’ to get sent back to civilization next time around.”

Austin watched the patrol load the supply wagon and saddle up a sorrel horse for himself and a gray for Summer. The two ladies had not yet appeared from breakfast. The scout joined the group and he looked no different from yesterday except that he now wore a Bowie knife and a big whip hanging from his belt. The scout rode the most strangely marked horse Austin had ever seen, a big bay stallion with a white rump. Brown spots splashed the white blanket of the horse.

He turned and saw Summer and Mrs. O’Malley coming out of their quarters and his heart sang at the sight of her lovely face. She had pulled her hair back under her bonnet and she wore a soft chocolate brown and blue riding habit. She smiled at him as she approached, and then she seemed to see the scout’s horse for the first time and her face blanched and looked stricken.

“Where—where did you get that horse?” she asked in a stunned whisper.

“Ain’t he a beaut?” The scout nodded proudly. “The cap’n in charge of that Injun raid where we rescued you, mah’m, let me cut him outa the herd! ’Course I have to quirt him purty hard to get him to mind me and I got to remember to mount him from the right side like an Injun would!”

Austin frowned and stepped forward to take Summer’s elbow. She looked like she might be feeling faint. Again, he got vibrations of warning that he decided to ignore. All night the prairie wind had seemed to blow and whine around the corners and through the loose shingles of his quarters. It almost seemed to whimper, “Go back! Go back!” at him.

He wouldn’t mention it of course. He’d already heard enough comments about his witch ancestor. But there was some terrible conflict between Summer and this scout that Austin sensed but was afraid to ask about. He was certain it concerned his vision of the love scene on the riverbank.
Those two knew something Austin. didn’t know
. He considered cornering Summer later and asking. Mentally, he quailed and decided against it. Whatever it was, he didn’t think he wanted to know.

The color gradually came back to Summer’s face and she shook his hand away. Austin reached idly for his pipe while he studied the stallion. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a strangely marked horse.”

“And you ain’t likely to see another, beggin’ yore pardon, sir.” The scout pulled out a cigar. “Someone told me they call ’em Appaloosas. Don’t know what it means or where this horse come from originally, but I’ll bet there ain’t another one like it for a thousand miles.”

Austin puffed his pipe and tipped his hat politely to the heavy Irish maid. “Did you have a good night, Mrs. O’Malley?”

“I said Hail Marys all night,” she informed him, “just thinkin’ about what me and me darlin’ lamb are facing in this wild country. You, there!” She waved at a soldier and gave a sharp order. “Be careful with me trunk as you put it on that wagon!” Her double chin shook as she allowed a trooper to assist her up on the wagon seat next to the driver. Austin was reminded of a plump hen fluffing her feathers as she settled down and got out her knitting.

“Are we ready to mount, sir?” the sergeant asked.

Austin nodded as he helped Summer to sit sidesaddle on her gray and then swung up on the sorrel he was offered.

It was interesting to him to watch Summer’s face come alive as they rode out through the bustle of soldiers, prospectors, and immigrants crowding the muddy streets of the surrounding settlement. Everywhere were covered wagons with banners proclaiming Pike’s Peak Or Bust! The saloons were in full swing with their raucous pianos though the hour was early. Swaggering prospectors and ragged immigrants passed each other in front of the bustling stores. An endless sea of prairie that yesterday saw only savages and buffalo now hosted civilization.

Summer’s face shone with excitement and her love for the wild country. It occurred to him he might make her very happy after marriage by accepting an assignment with the cavalry out here. Then he shook his head. Mother wouldn’t like it if he got stuck off out here hundreds of miles from civilization as Boston knew it. Besides, the advancement opportunities were in Washington where a well-placed, ambitious young lieutenant could make a mark for himself with the country’s leaders.

The journey went smoothly. After a couple of days riding west, the little party saw less and less of the droves of gold seekers who seemed to be moving across the plains. Austin was awed by the vast emptiness of Kansas. Three days west of the fort, they ran across a great herd of buffalo. It seemed to be one great brown sea, undulating like muddy waves as the animals shifted, grunting and rolling in the dust. When the herd moved forward, it echoed like thunder.

The sea of beasts made Austin uneasy. “There must be thousands of them!”

“Millions!” The scout spat to one side. “They say, maybe a hundred million roam the plains and them big wallows where they roll will be there years after them buffalo are gone. ’Course the hunters is startin’ to kill off a lot.”

The lanky sergeant rode up and stared uneasily. “Scares me to think about gettin’ caught in a stampede of those things! Wouldn’t find enough of you left to cover a buffalo chip, much less bury!”

Austin felt both danger and excitement as he stared at the great, moving herd. There was nothing like this in the narrow, crowded streets of Boston or Washington, either. The smell of their hot bodies and droppings made him wrinkle his nose in fastidious distaste.

Summer rode up and sat looking at the great herd. “The buffalo is the Indians’ pantry,” she said quietly. “Without them, the tribes would starve!”

“Now, there’s a worthwhile thought!” Dallinger drawled as he reached for one of those small, stinking cigars he always smoked. “The only way we’ll ever be able to corral them savages is to kill off all the buffalo.”

Austin shook his head as he watched two great bulls fighting. The air floated with red dust as they pawed the earth and snorted. “Since there’s millions of them, it doesn’t seem likely they’ll ever make much of a dent in the herds.”

“Reckon not,” the scout agreed, smoking his cigar. “Although the hide hunters is killin’ a few. That panic in ’57 has got a lot of men lookin’ for a way to make an extra dollar. The farmers shoot ’em, too, to keep them from eatin’ and tramplin’ their crops.”

Austin tasted gritty dust on his lips churned up by the great herd. There seemed to be no beginning and no end to the moving brown sea. Even rising up in his stirrups, he could not see anything but brown fur in every direction.

The sun reflected off the sapphire and diamond ring on Summer’s hand as she clasped her saddle horn.
The thought came to Austin that wearing a priceless gem like that out into this lawless country was probably as foolhardy as carrying a thousand dollars in gold in his saddlebags
. Then he shrugged it off. What better protection could one have than an armed cavalry patrol?

He could feel such hostility between Summer and the scout that it made him uneasy. Though she was friendly and pleasant to the rest of the group, she treated the scout with such remote disregard that he was almost embarrassed by her lack of manners. He wondered if many years from now he would ever have the nerve to ask her why she hated the scout and decided he would regret her answer.

Mrs. O’Malley never seemed either to cease talking or knitting. Austin felt sorry for the wagon driver when he rode close enough to hear the thick, Irish accent.

“We do need to move on, sir.” The sergeant broke into Austin’s thoughts. “If anything spooked that herd and it began to run, there’s nothin’ taller or stronger than a sunflower in any direction for us to climb.”

Dallinger nodded. “The sergeant’s right. Besides, there’s usually Injun huntin’ parties around these big herds in the spring and I’d jest as soon not run onto Injuns!”

It took the small party two full days to move past the big herd and Austin grew more puzzled the farther they got into the wilderness. The more they moved west, the more remote from all of them Summer became. It was almost as if she were reliving some adventure she either couldn’t or wouldn’t share with anyone, not even him. He tried to talk to her as they rode along, discuss their future, but she seemed almost lost in the past. Her expression chilled him when it finally dawned on him where else he had seen that lost, dreamy expression.
Summer’s mother, Priscilla, often looked just that way
. He could feel Summer slipping away from him like gold dust through his fingers and he seemed powerless to pull her back to him. He watched her dreamy gaze as he rode next to her across the prairie and had the most terrible urge to turn the patrol around and ride back to the fort, leaving Todd to look out for himself.
But what would Mother say?

“What are you thinking about?” Summer glanced over at him as they rode along the flat landscape.

He laughed. “I was just remembering the story of Joseph in the Bible. Remember? He was his father’s favorite who could do no wrong and his father bought him a many colored coat?”

“Yes, I remember.” She nodded. “The older brothers finally got so fed up, they sold him into slavery in Egypt.”

Austin smiled in spite of himself. “When I think of Todd, I can’t help but remember how guilty I used to feel in Sunday school because I cheered for the older brothers!”

Summer threw back her head and laughed and he relished the sound. She had a soft laugh, like tiny, silver bells.

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” she said, suddenly serious.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I can’t help it. I adore you, Summer. I always have. You know that.”

She patted her horse’s neck. “It makes me uneasy to be worshiped like a marble statue on a pedestal. I want to be loved like a flesh and blood woman.”

He didn’t answer as he pursed his thin lips and tried to imagine making carnal love to Summer. It made him feel both filthy and guilty to think about her that way, and yet . . .

The image came back to him of his beloved arching her virginal body against a bronzed Indian stallion and he was so torn by jealousy and pain that his hand trembled on the reins. It had been his fate to be second in his mother’s affections. Now it appeared he would be the second man in Summer’s affections, too. But he would be grateful if he got that much from her.

Two days later, following a dry little creek, they ran across the little pioneer family in their sod hut. The farmer plowed, using a thin milk cow to break the hard dirt.

“Mama, we got company!” he cried out, running awkwardly to meet the group. “You all get down and set a spell! We ain’t had anybody ride through since last fall!”

A woman came out of the sod hut accompanied by two small boys. Her face had the appearance of tanned leather and they were all barefoot. “All you folks get down! We’re mighty glad to see you, Lieutenant.”

“We’d appreciate a little water if you have it,” Austin said, dismounting. “We’re almost out and the creek’s dry.”

The man came forward eagerly, holding out his hand which felt callused and horny to Austin’s own.

“Name’s Landry, sir. Been tryin’ to farm this for a year now but don’t get enough rain and the grasshoppers get a lot of it. We got a hand-dug well, kinda muddy, but drinkable if you’re thirsty enough.”

Austin looked over and saw Summer and the kindly Irish maid exchanging sympathetic glances. The little family did look bone-thin and their clothes were almost in rags. The home was built of the only building material available on the prairie, blocks of sod cut and stacked against a little rise. The floor was dirt and it couldn’t be very warm in winter, Austin noted.

The woman ran one big, bare foot over the other in embarrassment. “We’d be pleased if you’d join us for supper, iffen you’ll eat potatoes and flour gravy.”

Her husband nodded. “It was a tough winter, all right, but it ain’t gonna run us out! We’re here to stay! The ox died last fall and we got so desperate we ate the only horse we had last winter. We didn’t dare kill the cow ’cause we needed the milk for the young’uns. Old Bessie don’t plow none too good, but I got to get my crops in or we won’t have nothin’ to eat later.”