Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (30 page)

John sighed. "Isn't it enough to tell you that my reasons are sound?"

"No, not when you are asking me to leave my husband."

"Damn it, Breanna, wake up. Dakota is not here to pass pleasantries with his Arapahos. He has come to kill a man!"

Breanna turned to John, her face ashen. "No, John! Dakota wouldn't . . . he isn't . . . no!"

"I can assure you it's true. I hadn't meant to tell you, but I have to make you listen to reason. I thought before you got this far you would decide to turn back on your own."

"No, what you are saying is unthinkable" she replied in an unconvincing voice. Had Dakota ever killed a man? She couldn't bear to think that the hands that caressed her so tenderly may have committed murder.

"I intend to talk to Dakota about this," she said, gazing up at the sun, which had become unbearably hot. She tied her hat firmly under her chin, feeling the perspiration that ran down her neck, plastering her blouse to her skin. Was it possible that John was right?

30

Night covered the land. The camp had been set up, the tents raised, and still Dakota had not made an appearance. Breanna was just outside the ring of light given off by the camp fire, feeding and watering her horse. Although John and Levi had offered to tend her mare, she had refused their help. She set her jaw firmly as she removed a burr from the mare's tail, only to have the sharp barb stick into her.

Crying out in pain, she found the burr deeply embedded in her finger. She had not heard the silent figure that emerged from the trees just behind her, and she was startled when a hand landed on her shoulder. Spinning around, she saw Dakota. Like a child who has been hurt and needed sympathy, she held her finger out to him.

A soft smile curved his lips as he gently removed the burr and raised her finger to his lips, kissing the wound. "Sweet little girl," he said, pulling her into his arms. "You have a brute for a husband."

She closed her eyes, allowing his soothing hands to move up and down her back.

"I watered and fed my horse," she said. "Of course, Levi did help me with the saddle, it's quite heavy."

He shook with silent laughter. "Oh, Breanna, what am I going to do with you?"

She moved away from him. "Why do you say that? I did not ask for Levi's help."

"No?"

"No."

"Come," he said, leading her toward one of the tents. "You have had a long day."

When they entered the tent, Dakota lit a lantern, and in the warm glow he saw that two cots had been set up, and a buffalo hide had been thrown on the floor. "Baxley is a wonder. He can even make a tent look like home," Dakota observed. His eyes softened as they rested on Breanna's face.

"I want to say something to you, and when I am finished, I hope you will understand about me." He took her hand and seated her on one of the cots. "Not many husbands and wives start their lives together as strangers as you and I have. I understand how difficult this has been for you. I have not always known how to please you, and I admit I have made many mistakes. Now that we are in America, you see me as I really am, with all pretense stripped away. You may not like me this way, but this is who I am."

"I have always wanted you to be yourself, Dakota."

"You don't know the real me."

"I would like to."

He dropped down on his knees beside her and took her hand in his. "Breanna, there are many things that I cannot tell you. You will just have to know that I am doing something that I have to do. Until I have accomplished that, I cannot call my life my own."

She remembered what John had told her today. "Can you not tell me what is driving you, Dakota?"

"No."

She looked into his green eyes so she would know the truth. "Have you come here to kill a man?"

She saw his eyes dilate. "Yes," he admitted.

"But that's barbaric! Have you killed before?"

"Yes." His eyes hardened. "But I will not discuss this with you, and you have no right to ask it of me."

"But I do ask. How can you so coldly plot a man's death?"

His dark brows knitted. "I will say no more. But after this is all over, if you feel you cannot stay with me, I will not hesitate to set you free."

She caught her breath, unable to think about a life without Dakota. Was he issuing her a warning? "I have always known you were troubled about something, Dakota. Like me, you had no say in this marriage. And like you, I will allow you to have your freedom if that is what you wish."

A serious expression transformed his face. "I think we begin to understand each other today."

He towered above her, and she stared up at him. "Dakota, I want to ask you about John. What happened between the two of you? I can tell that there is something wrong, and I don't like to see this rift between you."

His eyes glistened with an inner green fire. "Have you ever observed a herd of wild horses, Breanna?"

"No, not wild horses."

"Then perhaps I should explain to you about the stallions." His voice deepened. "Two stallions cannot coexist in the same herd. When the beautiful mare is desired by both stallions, they will battle, sometimes to the death! The mare goes to the strongest and most able."

"I don't understand. Are you comparing me to a horse? Are you saying that John is interested in me?" She shook her head. "No, you are wrong. He has always been my friend and a perfect gentleman with me. I don't know what I would have done without him. John admires you so much. Think of all he has done for you"

Dakota moved forward and gripped her arms, bringing her to her feet. "You are an innocent if you believe that John only wants friendship from you. I am telling you for your own good that it would be a mistake to encourage him, Breanna."

She tossed her head and glared at him. "How dare you suggest that I am encouraging John! You have your facts turned around. It was you who practiced deceit, not me."

His jaw clamped tightly together, his temper stretched to the limit. "If you are referring to Rye Saffron, think what you will. However, I should point out that you are walking a dangerous path, Breanna. You can push a man only so far, even a man like me."

"You are hateful, and I don't like you very well at the moment," she whispered, turning her back on him. "Just leave me alone!"

"If that is your wish" he said in a hard voice. "As I said, we are beginning to understand each other. As for your John, I would prefer you not be alone with him. Levi will look to your needs."

Breanna turned to face him, a slow anger building inside her. "How dare you think you can order me about. As for John, you do him an injustice. And as for Levi looking after me, aren't you fortunate that you have him to take the burden of me off your hands?"

Dakota looked as if he would like to say more, but clamped his jaw tightly together.

Through angry tears, she watched him leave, fighting the urge to run after him. She hurled herself onto the cot and buried her head beneath a blanket. Even though he left her angry, bruised, and humiliated, she still ached to feel his strong arms around her. Why did she feel like losing herself to the misery of tears?

***

For two days, Breanna's spirit was dampened. Dakota did not come near her or speak to her. Each day Levi would ride at her side, but he made no comment about the trouble between her and Dakota. Evidently something had been said to John, because he did not try to approach her.

Breanna held her breath every time Dakota rode near her, but he didn't look in her direction, and he did not come to her tent at night. If the others noticed anything was wrong between them, they were too polite to comment.

Being young and spirited, Breanna could not remain angry forever. On a warm cloudless day, she decided to throw off her gloom, and she set her chin stubbornly. She was not hurting anyone but herself by acting like a hurt child. With a determined lift of her shoulders, she mounted her horse, urging it to the front of the column to ride beside Levi. By now, she was accustomed to Dakota riding off alone and not returning until long after dark. She didn't know what he did with his time, and she did not ask.

All morning the travelers rode along the tracks left by wagon trains, but in late afternoon, Levi guided them off the rutted trail, heading due north. "This is the last of any kind of civilization you will see for some time," he told Breanna. "From here on out, if you meet someone, they will either be a hunter, a trapper, or an Indian."

"When will I see my first Indian, Levi?" she inquired, glancing at the cedar and juniper trees with their stubby shapes, growing along the steep cliff walls.

"Chances are, an Indian will see you, but you may not see him. We are now in Sioux country, and they are not inclined to be too friendly toward the white man."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Not to me, and not to you, since you are with me."

"Oh."

They rode past high buttes of sandstone, some of which the wind had carved into sculptural forms, almost as if the hand of man had lent art to their shape.

After they rode for several hours, the arid buttes gave way to soft, rolling grassy plains, and Breanna saw her first herd of buffalo.

She stared in wonder at the shaggy beasts which aimlessly grazed on the sun-dappled grassland.

John rode up beside Breanna, staring at the strange sight. Their eyes met at last, and he smiled as if to tell her he wanted only to be her friend.

Breanna smiled back at him in understanding.

"Well," John observed. "I suppose I am one of a handful of Englishmen who have seen a herd of buffalo in their own environment. Think of the stories I can tell at the club in London."

"It is truly amazing," she agreed, drinking in the animals' rugged beauty.

"Let's be riding on," Levi said. "Where you find the buffalo, the Sioux will not be far away."

"But you said they were friendly to you," Breanna reminded him.

"And so they are, but I try not to test them too often."

Levi seemed to read the land, and he knew exactly where he was going. It was almost dark when he held up his hand, indicating that they would make camp on the bank of the small river.

After Breanna had fed and watered her horse, she entered her tent to find that, as usual, Baxley had laid clean clothing on her cot.

The heat was oppressive, and the cool river was so inviting that Breanna had to take advantage of it.

As the dying rays of the golden sun painted the scene a tranquil hue, she found a secluded spot where she could bathe. Breanna slipped out of her clothing, grabbed up a bar of soap, and waded into the water, thinking how gloriously refreshing the water felt to her hot, tired body. She was lathering her long hair when she heard the sound of an owl. Peeping through the soapy lather that burned her eyes and nearly blinded her view, she remembered Levi telling her that Indians often imitated bird and animal sounds.

Breanna discounted the fear that prickled her spine. She was just being nervous, she told herself, washing the soap from her hair and diving beneath the water. As she came up through the water, she felt a hand clamp over her mouth and stared in horror at a hideously painted face. Breanna finally saw her first Indian!

She felt her whole body come alive with fear, and she fought against the rough hands that tightened about her waist. She bit at the hand that threatened to cut off her breathing, but the man was just too strong for her. He was dragging her out of the water, and there was nothing she could do to save herself.

She saw they were only a short way from the riverbank, and she fought wildly to keep her naked body from being exposed to the man. Kicking and twisting, she tried to gain her freedom, but to no avail.

The Indian said something to her, which she did not understand, but she understood the knife he planted at the base of her throat. A sob was building up inside, and she felt her body tremble with fear so strong it made her stomach churn. Would this man ravish her, or merely kill her? she wondered.

Just then, she glanced over the Indian's shoulder and relief flooded her eyes. It was Dakota come to rescue her!

He said something to her tormenter, but the Indian merely tightened his grip on her and touched the knife to her throat.

Again Dakota spoke, and this time the Indian's eyes widened. "Dakota?" the man asked. That much she did understand.

The two men conversed back and forth, and finally with a quick glance at Breanna, the Indian released her.

She plunged facedown in the river, too happy to be free to worry about the mouthful of river water she swallowed. When Breanna finally caught her breath, she saw that the Indian had vanished, melting away in the bushes.

Dakota quickly handed Breanna her clothing, while he placed his knife back in its sheath. "Get dressed," he ordered, his eyes alert to any signs that the Indian might return.

She pulled her gown over her head, but her hands trembled too badly for her to fasten it.

Dakota picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the river. Setting Breanna on her feet, he turned her around and fastened her gown.

"You will not do this again. Do you understand?"

She was still too frightened to disagree with him. "Yes. I only wanted to—"

"Do I have your word that you will not go off alone to bathe," he pressed.

"Yes, yes."

He lifted her in his arms once more and carried her back toward camp.

Levi was at the campfire, supervising the coffee, when he saw Breanna and Dakota emerge from the bushes. "Breanna, I thought you were resting in your tent," the hunter said, looking first at her wet hair and then at Dakota's angry expression.

"Come with me, Levi," Dakota ordered, making his way into Breanna's tent.

Once inside, Breanna felt her legs could not hold her any longer, and she sank down on the cot.

"You can guess what she was doing," Dakota said to Levi.

"Yep, it appears she went bathing."

"You were supposed to keep an eye on her. I hold you responsible for what happened."

"It wasn't his fault," Breanna said, only to have both men look at her with silencing glances.