White Flame (26 page)

Fighting weariness of both body and soul, Emma’s voice broke. “It’s wrong to kill, Tanagila. There is nothing anyone can do to bring your sister or any of the others back. Go back and warn your people to move where they will be safe. Take the children away.”

Tanagila looked troubled, but stubbornly didn’t turn back. Ahead, Morning Moon, seated behind Renny on the back of the horse, turned to look at Emma. Her eyes were dark and serious. Her heart went out to the girl. From what Renny had said, Morning Moon had known Emma was leaving and the two girls had followed.

Emma’s heart grew heavy. She was torn. If Tanagila didn’t turn back soon, Emma would have no choice but to return with them. She couldn’t put Renny and Morning Moon at risk.

But what would she be returning to? A warrior who couldn’t put her needs first? A chief who would someday marry one of his own? Suddenly, her future loomed, empty of love and laughter.

“Emma, look.”

Drawn from her depressing thoughts, Emma glanced out across the prairie. Two riders were coming toward them. There was nowhere to go or hide. Silently, the group stopped and waited. As the pair of riders drew near, there was something about one of them that she recognized. Dressed as a trapper, there was no mistaking that moustache or gleaming blond hair.

“Derek!” Emma spurred her horse forward. He could take her and Renny to their father, leaving Tanagila and Morning Moon free to return. Then she would take her sister back to St. Louis and try to forget the handsome young chief who had stolen her heart.

With her attention focused on reaching Derek, Emma didn’t hear Morning Moon call her back.

Striking Thunder caught up with his father by noon. Stopping briefly so that Golden Eagle could fill him in, Striking Thunder learned about Star’s visions and the missing women and children.

Golden Eagle pointed. “They follow the river to the Big Muddy River.” He glanced at his son. “There is another set of tracks. All seem to be traveling together but I do not know who the other is.”

Striking Thunder rode toward the back where Star rode between his mother and sister. The three women stopped when he rode up. He looked into Star’s eyes and saw her fear.

“Can you tell me anything more?”

Star shuddered. “Soldiers. A forked path. One leads to peace and happiness, the other is soaked in blood. Hatred destroys those who walk that path.” Glancing at him, tears streamed down her face. “Choose wisely, my brother.”

Striking Thunder frowned. When he rejoined his father, he suggested they head across the prairie to cut Emma and the others off. Agreeing, they crossed the river. The hooves of the horses thundered across the prairie. Staring straight ahead, fear for Emma’s safety churned in him. This was his fault. He should have known she’d run again. With sudden insight, he realized he’d misread his own vision. Emma’s leaving, their separation, had been a warning, not a prediction.

And because he hadn’t shared it with their
wicasa,
their holy man, this mistake might very well cost him dearly—his heart.

Riding faster, he thought of Emma and the choice she’d made. Her father over him. While it hurt, could he blame her? Her sense of duty, like his own, was strong. His mind conjured up a child much like Renny, watching her father leave, not realizing he wouldn’t be back. The image of that little girl, charged with raising an infant sister, haunted him.

But his need to avenge Meadowlark was different. Would his father not have done his duty and married Wild-Flower rather than risk starting another war? Yet his father had suggested that there was duty to oneself. What was his duty to himself? Everything he’d ever done had been for his people. Except Emma. Taking her to his tipi, keeping her, that had been for himself. Because he loved her.

The thought of losing Emma, the flame of his heart, left him feeling hollow and empty inside. Dead. And if he felt this way, it would affect his ability to lead his people.

And what about Emma? What was his duty to her? Marriage? Protection? Provider? All of these were a warrior’s responsibility. But what about trust? Loyalty? Did he not owe her these? With a sigh, he put his troubling thoughts from him. There was much for him to consider. Right now, he had to find Emma and bring her back safely. Returning to the river, they followed it in silence.

The sun warmed the land. New grass formed a soft mat and tiny wildflowers added color and beauty. Striking Thunder appreciated none of it. By midafternoon, he was beginning to fear they’d lost Emma and the others. Ready to turn half of his warriors back, he glanced up into the sky and saw Black Cloud circling above them.

Suddenly, the bird shot across the sky. Following the bird’s direction, he saw a large group riding hard toward them in the distance. Calling a halt, he watched.

When he saw the flags and uniforms of soldiers, he gave the signal to form a line. Bows were readied but he gave the command that none were to shoot unless he gave the orders. White Wind and Star stayed well behind the strung-out line of warriors. Dove took her place in front of her mother and sister, her bow and arrow at the ready.

Striking Thunder waited, his heart pounding, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. Emma’s father had come. Emotions churned. Images of Emma over the last few months flashed before him. What he did now would affect everyone’s future. He glanced back at Star. She seemed calm, which suggested the danger surrounding Emma was not ahead.

Glancing at his warriors, he also knew what he decided here would affect how they viewed him and his leadership abilities. How could he put love before them? How could he not? Around and around he went. Time worked against him as the enemy advanced slower now. Soon, he must make his decision. Emma and love, or duty and revenge. It was a forked path before him.

When the soldiers stopped, the glint of light flashed on the metal barrels of their rifles. Silence fell as the two groups of fighters faced off. Striking Thunder had no trouble picking out Emma’s father by his long red hair, blowing in the breeze beneath his hat. He kept his eyes trained on that man.

Finally, the colonel dismounted. He was tall, trim and wore a neat uniform. Another man, dressed as a trapper, also joined him. The colonel gave the universal sign for peace with his hands and spoke the words. “I am Colonel Grady O’Brien. We come in peace.”

Concealing all thought and emotion, Striking Thunder nudged his mount forward. His father moved with him, keeping back a bit so all knew who was in charge. Normally the Indians, even if they spoke the white man’s language, didn’t reveal that fact. But Striking Thunder didn’t have time to play games. Emma was in danger, although, if her father was here, he wasn’t sure from what or whom. Still, Star had seen something. He would be careful.

“You are on Sioux land.”

If the colonel was surprised by his English, he didn’t show it. Without turning, he signaled his men to lower their rifles. Standing straight and proud, his hands at his side and well away from his pistol, he stepped forward. “I am in search of my daughters.”

“Look among us. Do you see your daughters?”

Grady’s gaze scanned over Striking Thunder’s warriors. “I seek a young chief by name of Striking Thunder. It is he who has my Emma.”

“You said daughters.” Striking Thunder knew with one slight motion of his hand that he could give the orders to cut down this man and most of the soldiers standing nervously behind him. Still, he hesitated.

Grady’s voice caught. “I do not know where my youngest daughter is. The information I have concerns only my elder.”

“And what information is this?” Striking Thunder listened as Emma’s father explained what he knew of Emma’s whereabouts. And he watched and judged. He saw no false concern and no hatred. The more the man talked, the less of a soldier he seemed. He became a father. A worried one.

The image was not what he was prepared for. Considering the man before him, and his sister’s vision of two paths, he knew the choice rested with him. Not to kill this man and keep peace between the two groups of armed men, or to kill him, avenge the deaths of his people and cause bloodshed. Tension grew.

Two paths. One with Emma. One without. One filled with love and laughter, the other cold silence. But what about duty, his people? Suddenly, everything became clear. His first duty was to his own heart. Though her skin marked her white, her heart and soul belonged to the Sioux and his belonged to her. They were tied. One and the same. His duty lay with her and together, with her love, he’d be able to serve his people.

The need for revenge drained away. Yellow Dog, the one who had committed the murders, had died. And if the colonel lost his own daughters, by their own choice to stay, wouldn’t that be punishment enough? All he had to do was tell this man he didn’t know of Emma and leave. The colonel would never need to know of his daughters’ whereabouts. It was enough that they were safe.

As quickly as he gave thought to that idea, he discarded it.

Emma would not want her father to worry. But did this man who’d put duty ahead of his family truly care about his daughters? Did he deserve to know the truth? Striking Thunder decided to test him. While meeting with the other chiefs, he had taken the colonel’s belt buckle. He pulled it out of the pouch tied to his waist and held it up. The sun sparkled off the silver and flashed. With a word, he tossed it to Emma’s father.

Tension mounted as the colonel cradled the belt buckle in his hands. Lifting his eyes, Striking Thunder thought he caught a gleam of tears in his eyes. “This is mine, stolen from me months ago.”

“Stolen or given to Yellow Dog as payment to kill the Sioux?”

Grady’s head shot up. “Stolen. What purpose it served, I do not know.”

“You did not give it to Captain Sanders with orders to use it as payment to Yellow Dog?”

The colonel drew himself up. Barely restrained fury flashed in blue eyes with a hint of storm in their depths. “Ah, now I begin to understand. Let me tell you, that in addition to searching for my daughters, I’m also after Sanders. I have reason to believe he means to harm my elder daughter.”

“Why would this man want to harm your daughter?”

“I do not know for sure but he is dangerous. He has killed one woman and kidnapped another.”

Before Striking Thunder could ask more questions, Star moved up next to him. She stared at Emma’s father for a long time. “The Eagle,” she whispered, then turned to her brother. “The white man speaks the truth. No darkness surrounds him.”

The Indians withdrew a few feet and conferred. Grady sensed something deeper going on. Who was this warrior and what did he know? Tracing the initials on the belt buckle his daughters had given him, he also wondered how this warrior had come to be in possession of it.

Then with certainty, he knew. This had to be Striking Thunder, the young chief who’d killed Yellow Dog. He glanced around one more time. Where was Emma?

He longed to step forward and demand answers but he didn’t dare, not with arrows pointed at him and his men. Though he didn’t fear for his own safety, one wrong move could set off a bloody chain of events.

The two sides were well-matched. Even though his soldiers had rifles, those arrows would find their mark just as quickly as bullets. To still his impatience, he let his attention wander over the Sioux. To his surprise, there were three women. The one talking to Striking Thunder held his gaze.

She was a vision of loveliness with her short black hair and fragile features. And when she turned her gaze on him, her haunting beauty struck a chord deep inside him. She returned her attention to the other two women while Striking Thunder and the warrior with him dismounted and came forward.

Striking Thunder spoke. “I believe the father of Emma did not have anything to do with the killing of my wife or the others in my tribe. We, too, search for your daughters who left this morning.”

“Renny? You have her as well?” Grady felt like weeping with the relief that both his girls were alive. “Thank God,” he whispered softly, grateful his prayers had been heard and answered.

Striking Thunder sent him a pointed stare. “If you had not left them, they would not have come here.”

Grady didn’t refute the accusation, for it was true. No one knew better than he what his lack of responsibility had caused. He vowed to make it up to his children. But first, he had to find them. He eyed the young warrior with narrowed eyes, not sure he liked the possessive attitude this warrior—no, chieftain—showed, but now wasn’t the time to challenge him.

“We shall speak later of how you came to have my daughters. Right now, I need to find Sanders before he harms them.”

“We shall join forces. I shall tell you of my sister’s visions.”

Grady, still feeling incredibly relieved and lighthearted at learning his children were alive, nodded. “Zeb here has been tracking Sanders along the Cheyenne River. We’ve not seen any women or children traveling alone.”

Striking Thunder glanced upriver. “And we cut across the land to reach this spot as Emma and the others would not have gotten any farther than this since leaving last night, especially with the two young girls.”

Grady and Striking Thunder turned as one to stare at the stretch of river snaking toward the hills. “Then Emma and Derek travel toward each other.” Both men ran for their horses. Striking Thunder waited for Emma’s father to join him. Then, with his father at his side, and Zeb at Grady’s, the four men led the charge.

“Derek, I’m glad to see you,” Emma cried. She pulled her horse to a halt beside him. To her surprise, there was an Indian woman with him. She sat on her horse, bent over, her stringy black hair covering her face. Emma didn’t pay her much attention.

“Emma! You’re safe. You’ve had us all very worried.” Derek dismounted.

Emma did the same. Suddenly, the Indian woman came to life. Her eyes, black and swollen from being beaten, went wild with fear.

“Run! He kill you!”

Startled, Emma glanced at Derek. Rage contorted his features. Emma backed away, suddenly recalling his treatment and derogatory comments about Indians while they’d traveled to the fort—and his dealings with Yellow Dog. Had Yellow Dog been telling the truth? Had Derek paid him to kill Striking Thunder’s wife and stir up trouble?

No longer able to trust the captain, she spun around to remount and flee but the sound of a gunshot stopped her. With a cry of fright, she whirled around. To her horror, the Indian woman lay motionless on the ground, eyes staring blankly at the sky.

Lifting her gaze, Emma found Derek regarding her with a sneer. In his hand, he held a revolver, leveled at her own chest.

“Don’t be in such a hurry to leave, Emma.”

Shocked and scared, Emma strove to keep calm, but having the pistol pointed at her chest made her hands sweat and her heart pound. “Derek, what is going on?”

Derek snickered. “Just some unfinished business, Emma, my dear. Now, be a good girl and move away from the horse.”

He pointed the pistol at the group behind her. “Now, or one of them gets it next.” His voice turned hard.

With a fearful look at Tanagila and the girls, Emma did as she was told. “I don’t understand.”

“Ah, you will, my dear. You will.” Derek uncoiled a thin length of rope tied to his belt. He turned his attention to Tanagila. “You. All of you, get over here.”

Tanagila and the two girls dismounted and joined Emma. Renny ran to Emma and pressed tightly into her. Derek grinned at the group, his gaze lingering on Tanagila. He tossed the rope to Emma and ordered, “Tie her hands behind her back.”

For a brief moment, Emma considered refusing, but the cocking of the pistol spurred her to do as he ordered. She stepped behind Tanagila to bind her hands. To buy time, she asked him, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because your father expects me to marry you—but we both know you’re spoiled goods by now, don’t we, my dear?”

Without Derek knowing, Emma slid the small knife from her thigh and beckoned her sister toward her. Pretending to still be tying the rope, she cut a small slit in the doll the girl clutched and hid the knife there. Renny gave nothing away. Done, Emma stepped to the side. Renny moved close to Morning Moon.

“So, refuse to marry me.”

“And spend the rest of my life in some remote, godforsaken land, living a life of poverty? I think not, especially as your father knows where you are and plans to come after you. Too bad, you know. You were my ticket to being rich.”

He pulled out his gold nugget. “See this? There’s more. Lots more in those hills.” He eyed the dead body of Wild Sage, then moved toward Tanagila. “And this pretty little squaw will
take me to find the gold. Won’t you.”

Tanagila ignored him. Derek cut the dangling length of extra rope after making sure Emma had tied it good and tight. Then he stared down into Tanagila’s impassive features. “Yes, I think I will keep you around for a while.” He trailed the gun down her cheek. “It will be fun teaching you the meaning of fear.” Derek glanced around and motioned to the two girls. “Now, them,” he ordered Emma. “Tie
them
up.” He cut the remaining rope in two.

Emma wrapped the rope around Renny’s wrist in front of her, careful to keep the doll in the girl’s palm, the concealed knife facing the child.

“Put her hands behind her back and get rid of that lice-infested doll.”

Turning, Emma scoffed, “She’s a child. Let her have it. Surely she’s no threat to you.”

Derek glared at her then motioned to Morning Moon. “Tie the brat now.”

Before Emma could tie the girl’s hands, her sister charged forward, her hands fisted in fury.

“I won’t let you hurt my sister or my friend. You’re mean.”

Derek laughed and stuck out his booted foot, catching her in the stomach and shoving her back.

Renny stumbled back and fell, winded. Dropping the rope, Emma ran to her. “Leave her be.”

Reaching down, Derek grabbed Emma’s hair and hauled her to him. “If you’re nice to me, I’ll kill them brats clean. They won’t suffer. But if you’re not—” He fired off another shot, this one just over Morning Moon’s head. “If you give me trouble, they will die slow, with buzzards and wolves circling them before they are dead.

Terror paralyzed Emma. She fought it, knowing she had to keep a clear head.
Please, Striking Thunder,
she prayed,
come, before it’s too late. Please be following me.
“Please, Derek, listen to me. I ran away last night. Tanagila, Renny and Morning Moon followed to stop me. Striking Thunder and his warriors won’t be far behind. Let them go and I’ll go with you and help you get away.”

Derek ran the cold muzzle down the side of her neck, then followed the path with his lips. “I don’t think so.” He lifted his head and tightened his hold on her arm. “What is this Striking Thunder to you? Your lover?”

Emma winced but didn’t dare move with the gun moving up and down her throat.

Without warning, rage shook Derek. The gun rammed into the tender flesh beneath her jaw. “You’re no better than the rest of those squaws, are you?
Are you?
” he shouted.

He shoved her to the ground and straddled her. The gun in his hand shook. “You’re nothing but a whore. Like all squaws. You’ll spread your legs and trap any man.”

Intent on Emma, Derek didn’t pay attention when Renny crawled to Morning Moon who’d already moved behind Tanagila. Morning Moon’s eyes clouded over so Renny took the knife out of the doll and started sawing through the ropes binding Tanagila.

Striking Thunder rode hard, images of Emma and what they’d shared haunting him. On his left, Emma’s father kept pace. The rest of their rescue party followed.

Though he knew he’d done the right thing by letting Emma’s father know the truth, he feared that Emma, after seeing her father, would choose to return to her house of wood. Could he convince her to stay? Should he? The life they led was harsh. What if she couldn’t survive? Yet how could he let her go? He loved her. She was the flame of his heart. She set his blood on fire, sent white heat through his veins. With her, he felt alive.

Before, he’d believed that keeping his feelings under tight control made him a better
leader. But by denying his own passions and emotions, he’d limited himself, strangled his own growth. Now he saw the world through the colors of love, sorrow and grief. All had their place and made his world complete.

As in all things, they were part of the circle of life. And Emma, his white woman, his love, made his life’s circle complete. She brought him love, had taught him to feel. Somehow, he had to find the words to convince her to stay with him. Pushing his mare, he sped across the short green grass. Clumps of moist dirt flew through the air.

Above him, Black Cloud flew. Touching the medallion around his neck, he prayed to his animal friend for help once again.

Find her. Find my love.

The wise bird soared through the sky. When the raven circled ahead, Striking Thunder knew they were close. Stopping, he waited for the others then pointed.

“They are ahead.” He motioned for his warriors to split up and move to surround them. He had no idea if it was just Emma and the others, or if Sanders was with them.

The warriors dismounted and moved along the river’s bank on foot, while others ran away from the stream in both directions to spread out and set a trap in case Derek tried to flee. Grady also gave commands to his soldiers. Half would stay back in case Derek fled toward them. The rest would stay with him and Striking Thunder.

Waiting to give his warriors time to get nearer was the hardest thing Striking Thunder had ever done. He wanted nothing more than to charge ahead. But when he heard the loud report of a gunshot, his heart stopped. “Emma!” With a cry of rage and fear, he jumped onto his horse and urged her forward. Nothing mattered. Only her. The sound of a second shot sent terror slamming into his chest.
Don’t let me be too late.

Closing in, he heard screams. Slowing to take stock of the situation, his father and Grady caught up with him. They swept forward together.

Emma felt the ground trembling beneath her. So did Derek. He glanced over his shoulder, then swore. Pulling her in front of him to use as a shield, he hooked his elbow around her throat and pressed the muzzle of his gun to her head.

With fear in her heart, Emma saw Striking Thunder arrive with warriors and soldiers, their guns and arrows pointed at Derek. Next to Striking Thunder, she recognized her father.

Her heart lifted and she cried out with joy. Striking Thunder hadn’t killed him. For that, she was grateful. If she died today, her father would be able to take Renny home. Full of fear and thankfulness, Emma kept her gaze on Striking Thunder, trying to tell him with her eyes that she loved him.

“Put the gun down, Sanders,” her father’s familiar commanding voice boomed.

“Move any closer, she dies.” Derek pulled her back.

“You can’t escape.”

“Wrong. If you try and stop me, she dies.”

Emma tried pulling Derek’s arm from her throat but he tightened his hold as he dragged her toward the horse. “Please, let me go, Derek. They won’t kill you if you let me go.”

“Shut up,” Derek screamed, tightening his hold so that Emma could barely breathe. The horse, made uneasy by the tension, scooted away. Derek cursed.

Striking Thunder kept his gaze on Emma. A movement behind her caught his eye. Tanagila was free and creeping toward Derek on her hands and knees, the knife between her teeth. And Renny was standing, her doll held high overhead, staring into the sky while Morning Moon watched Emma. Fearing they’d do something to cause the gun to go off, he kept his eye on
them. Emma’s father, who’d also seen them, kept Derek distracted.

Renny moved forward and waved the doll in the air. The sun glinted off its bright red hair.

What was she up to? When the raven flew across the sky with a loud caw, Striking Thunder understood. He smiled reassuringly at Emma. “As the raven flies straight, his sharp eyes always searching for bright treasures, know that I love you, flame of my heart.”

Derek sneered at him. “How sweet. Declarations of love.”

Emma ignored Derek and spoke to Striking Thunder. “As I love you, my warrior whose aim is true.”

Striking Thunder drew his arrow and watched Emma’s eyes as she tracked the bird. When her gaze suddenly dove to the ground, he hissed beneath his breath low enough for only Grady and his father to hear. “Be ready.”

As expected, the bird flew down toward Renny’s doll with a loud, raucous cry. Startled by the appearance of the bird, Derek whirled around. That one moment of distraction, when the gun was shifted from Emma, was all Striking Thunder needed—but before he could fire off an arrow, Tanagila rose up and threw herself at Emma, knocking her out of Derek’s grasp and onto the ground.

A shot rang out, then another. Derek fell to the ground. Both Striking Thunder and Grady ran forward. Reaching the two women, Grady gently pulled Tanagila off Emma while Striking Thunder gathered her into his arms.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed. “Tell me you are unhurt,” he whispered, his heart pounding furiously when he saw blood welling from a small cut on her forehead.

“I’m not hurt. Tanagila? Is she—?”

Glancing over, Striking Thunder saw Tatankaota holding Tanagila. One shoulder was bare and bleeding from a gunshot wound. Grady and an army doctor, along with his mother and Dove, tended her. Listening to the doctor arguing with Dove lifted his spirits.

“She will be fine.” Bending his head, he kissed her, uncaring who saw. “You frightened this warrior. I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered against her temple, needing to tell her what was in his heart and to beg forgiveness.

“I was so scared that you wouldn’t come.” Tears swam in her eyes and her voice broke. She turned her gaze away from Derek’s lifeless form. Mindful of the women present, someone had covered him with a coat.

“You did good, white woman, flame of my heart. This warrior is proud of you. You were brave and full of courage.”

Emma reached up to cup his jaw. “No. I was foolish. I endangered the others by leaving.” She stopped at the approach of a soldier. Her mouth moved yet no sound came.

“Papa?” Her voice came out a croak of wonder and fear.

Striking Thunder stood and drew her to her feet, then he stood back. She stumbled forward into her father’s outstretched arms. Feeling let-down and strangely jealous, he turned away, willing to prove his love by letting her go if that was what she wanted.

Emma threw herself into her father’s arms, weeping. “Papa. You’re here. You came. I’m so sorry. I failed. I didn’t keep her safe, Papa. I’m sorry.”

Tears ran down Grady’s face. “No, princess. The fault lies with me,” he said, drawing her onto his lap as if she were once again eight. “I should never have left you. I’ve been running, afraid to face my loss, afraid to face life without your mother at my side. I failed not only you
and your sister but her as well. Your mother entrusted me with the two most precious gifts in the world and I never realized what I’ve missed. I’m a selfish old fool who would like to have a second chance to make things right.”

Emma’s heart felt like it would break. “Oh, Papa. I was so afraid.”

Grady stroked her head. “I know, princess. I know. Everything will be all right. We’ll go home. Papa will make it right.”

Before Emma could tell him she loved Striking Thunder, Renny shouted at him.

“No! No! I won’t go back with you. You don’t love us.” Defiant, Renny crossed her arms across her chest and glared at her father. “He doesn’t want us. I’m staying here.”