Candace McCarthy (20 page)

They watched the Sioux village from the cover of darkness. Daniel, Black Hawk, and the rest of the Ojibwa band crouched low and observed the noisy scene before them. To Daniel’s surprise, there were white men in the village—fur trappers by the look of them. They had given the Sioux liquor; the Indians were drunk. Hooting and hollering, some danced about a central fire, while others passed around a jug. He watched as one brave swigged some spirits, which dribbled down his chin. The warrior next to him grabbed the jug from his friend’s hands and drank deeply.

Daniel exchanged glances with Black Hawk, whose face could be seen in the dim light.

“Stupid Sioux who drink firewater,” Black Hawk said. His grin shone white in the darkness.

He nodded. It would make it easier for them to enter the village and get out. Turning back to the scene, Daniel looked for a glimpse of white captives.
Where are you, John? Show yourself.

A high-pitched scream gave the blacksmith goose flesh. He saw the flap of a teepee fly open and a woman run from inside the lodge, chased by a bearded white man. Daniel stared hard, then cursed.
Kertell!
What was he doing here? he wondered. It didn’t sit well that the fur trapper was with the Sioux. The trapper staggered drunkenly
as he chased the woman. A brave reached out and caught the captive by the arm and laughingly shoved her in Kertell’s direction. Angry that the woman had tried to escape, the fur trapper grabbed the woman’s arms and held them behind her. Securing her wrists with his hand, he reached around to the woman’s left breast and squeezed, the woman shrieked, bucked, and kicked back with her right foot.

Kertell gasped as her heel made contact with his shin, and he released his hold as he reached to rub the pain. The dark-haired woman started to flee. Daniel saw the woman’s face for the first time. He drew a sharp breath.
Miriam!
It was the missionary, Miriam Lathom, Amelia’s friend. Joy spilled into his heart, and he felt the elation take hold, giving him renewed strength.

He glanced over at Black Hawk. The brave nodded; his dark eyes gleamed. He, too, had recognized the woman.

As several men scrambled to grab hold of the missionary, Daniel started to rise, wanting to help, but Black Hawk grasped his arm and shook his head. His eyes conveyed the message:
Not yet.

His heart pounding with the need for action, Daniel watched the tussle between the woman and the men. A bellowing roar from a brave exiting a teepee had the men releasing Miriam, who ran off as soon as she was free.

Daniel searched the village for signs of the other missing people: Amelia’s father, the other four women, and the children who had been taken.

Kertell laughed as the Indians shoved Miriam from one brave to the next. Miriam stumbled and tripped, but quickly righted herself, only to have someone grab and throw her again.

A regal-looking Sioux warrior called out something as he rose from the circle about the fire. The other braves
got quiet, and Daniel suspected that the man held a position of authority, probably the chief. The silence lasted only a minute, as the liquor made the Indians crazy, and they disregarded whatever their leader had to say.

The Sioux got tired of their game with the white woman, and one warrior tossed her to the ground. The brave called loudly for the jug, and there was a tug of war and much laughter as he and another brave battled for the jug until one took a drink then handed it smilingly to his friend. Miriam scrambled to her feet and took refuge in the shadows, safe, at least, for now.

Two of the braves began to chant something loudly. From beyond Daniel’s range of vision, two women entered the clearing carrying plates of food, which the warriors snatched away as the females approached. Daniel’s pulse started to race as he noted one of the women had cropped blond hair and looked familiar, but he was afraid to hope, to believe. She was thinner than he’d remembered her. Her hair looked as if it had been chopped off with a knife. She wore ragged linen clothes and was barefoot. He stared hard, hoping to get a better glimpse of her face. She turned then, and he could see her blank expression. Something clenched in his gut, for he knew that face. He had almost given up hope; he’d been looking for her for so long.

He touched his Ojibwa friend’s arm. Black Hawk started then relaxed when he saw it was Daniel. He frowned when he saw Daniel’s expression.

Daniel pointed toward the blond white woman and said one word, which summed up what he’d seen and what he was feeling.
“Nishiime.” My younger sister.
“Jane.”

A flash of fire entered Black Hawk’s jet-black eyes, for he knew Jane’s story, and he had been searching, too, for four long years to help his friend.

Although he was disturbed by his sister’s appearance, Daniel couldn’t help the smile that curved his mouth or the joy of knowing that he had found Susie’s mother and would soon be bringing her home.

They remained where they were until the other Ojibwa had slipped silently to a crouch behind their leader, Black Hawk, to wait for his command. Daniel knew that patience had become important if they were to succeed. They would wait until the Indians and the white men were asleep in their drunken stupor, then they would slip into the village, rescue the white captives, and slink out into the night, undetected.

Patience,
Daniel thought, feeling everything but.

She shouldn’t have come, and worse yet, she shouldn’t have allowed the captain to talk her into bringing Susie. Amelia sat on a blanket on the ground, hugging Susie to her side, and watched as the soldiers sat around their campfire, laughing and swapping stories, passing around a flask of whiskey.

Susie shivered. Amelia glanced down at the child and was disturbed by her trembling.

“Susie, are you all right?” she whispered. She was glad they sat in the shadows, away from the attention of the men.

The little girl looked up, and Amelia was disturbed by her look of fear.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she said. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The child didn’t speak, but Amelia saw a glimmer of hope in Susie’s blue eyes, before she glanced away and burrowed deeper against Amelia’s side.

Amelia knew Daniel was going to be furious that she’d
left the cabin, worse yet that she’d taken Susie with her.
I promised, and I broke my promise, putting Susie and myself at risk.

She thought back to her meeting with the officer in charge of Cameron Walters’ army regiment and marveled how the man had convinced her to come—and to bring Susie.

Her gaze went to the captain as he sat there among his men. Captain Richard Milton’s good looks and charm had surprised her. He had been so sympathetic to her plight, promising to help her find her father … and Daniel who was overdue in his return home. She’d been captivated by his manners and his willingness to help. He had convinced her to come with him, telling her that he needed her to identify both Daniel and her father.

Amelia frowned as she tried to remember how Susie had entered their conversation, how Captain Milton had managed to persuade her that the child would be better off coming, too. As Amelia thought about it now, the idea of bringing a small girl on such a dangerous mission was ludicrous. How had he done it? Convinced her?

She closed her eyes with the realization that Daniel might never forgive her for being so foolish … and care-less with his daughter’s life.

She studied the captain and wondered what sort of man she’d entrusted with their well-being. He watched his men from his position, neither laughing nor partaking of the liquor that was being passed around. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but Amelia had no idea why she felt that way. In her mind, she compared him to a sleek cat, watching his prey, waiting, listening, for the right moment to pounce.

Her thoughts bothered her. When she’d left the army encampment outside the mission, she’d felt so sure, so
convinced, that going with the regiment and bringing along Susie was the right thing to do. After all, how much safer could one be than in the midst of a regiment of thirty men?

Susie stirred within her arms, drawing her attention. It was late, and no doubt the child was exhausted. They had come a long way during their first day.

“Susie, sweetheart, why don’t we get some sleep?”

Susie flashed her a look of alarm that startled her.

“It’s all right. I’ll sleep here, right by your side.”

Some of the child’s fear receded. Amelia saw her glance toward the group of men and look away. She nodded with-out meeting Amelia’s gaze.

Amelia moved then to readjust their blanket and pull a second smaller wrap from the modest-sized satchel she’d brought with them. She didn’t know what prompted her to put Susie on the other side of her, away from the men. She decided as she got comfortable that Susie needed to be shielded from the soldiers’ bad behavior.

She pulled a blanket to cover herself and the little girl. Then she lay for a moment with her eyes closed, until raucous laughter from the men drew her gaze back to the group—and the captain. Almost as if pulled against her will, her attention focused on the commanding officer. He was almost too good-looking, Amelia thought, and then realized that it was a strange thing to ponder. Her gaze narrowed. It was true, though, she mused. Richard Milton had taken off his hat, but his dark hair looked unruffled, a black wave lying perfectly across his forehead as if it had been coaxed by expert hands.

While the rest of his men looked dirty, their uniforms rumpled, and their dispositions out of sorts, Captain Milton looked pristine and perfect—too perfect, and too polite. As she studied him, the man glanced her way. He
stared at her, unsmiling, and she imagined she saw a hint of smugness in his expression. She held his gaze, refusing to be scared or intimidated. His face transformed as he smiled, radiating warmth. He gave her a nod, then turned his attention toward his men.

Amelia felt chilled as she raised the blanket higher around her and Susie, then moved closer to the sleeping child.

She lay curled on her side, facing the fire, wondering how she would sleep when she didn’t feel safe, when the soldiers were getting drunker and drunker by the minute, their voices raised in laughter, coarse conversation, and song.

Someone touched her shoulder. “Amelia? Miss Dempsey?”

She gasped, opened her eyes, and flipped onto her back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Oh, dear God, Cameron, you startled me!” She felt a rush of relief when she saw it was her friend.

Looking apologetic, he crouched down beside her. “I didn’t mean to,” he said sincerely. He shot an annoyed glance toward the group of men. “They’re acting like drunken fools. I don’t know why the captain is allowing this.” He had a puzzled look on his face when he turned back to her. His brow cleared as he studied her. “Now, don’t you be worrying about them, Miss Dempsey.”

“Amelia,” she said softly, recognizing Cameron as the only man here she could truly trust.

He nodded. “Well, Miss Amelia,” he said, the
Miss
making her smile, “as I said, don’t you be worrying. The captain … he sent me to look over you. He figured you were frightened and needed me to watch out for you.”

Surprised by the officer’s thoughtfulness, Amelia shot the man a glance. He spoke to the soldier beside him,
then as if sensing her gaze, looked her way. His expression seemed to soften as their eyes locked for several long seconds until another subordinate caught his attention and he looked away. Strangely enough, Amelia felt comforted by the captain’s look. She was left with the impression that he was concerned about her and wanted to assure her that she and Susie were safe and would remain so in his care.

“I’ll just sit right over there,” Cameron said.

She looked at him blankly. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t seem offended by her lack of attention. “Don’t let them scare you, Miss Amelia. The captain’s allowed them their liquor, but he’s taken away their guns.”

Cameron patted his side where the barrel of a pistol had been tucked into the waistband of his trousers. “But not mine.” He smiled. “The captain knows he can trust me.”

Amelia nodded. “Thank you, Cameron,” she said softly. She felt a little better that he was near. She didn’t point out to him that a man’s gun alone didn’t make him dangerous, that there were worse things a man could do to a woman than shoot her. The truth was that having Cameron as guard was better than not having anyone at all … and for that she was grateful.

Miriam found temporary safety in a teepee with a Sioux woman and another white captive. The Sioux woman was an elderly matron, who was kind when none of the warriors was watching and mean when they were. The missionary woman understood Dancing Water’s behavior, for she had seen the way some of the Indian men treated their women when they became displeased.

Dancing Water gestured for Miriam to move closer to
the other captive, a white woman with close-cropped blond hair and a blank expression that told Miriam that she must have suffered greatly at the hands of the Sioux. All Miriam knew about the woman was that her name was Jane.

She sat next to Jane, who met her gaze with blue eyes that were shadowed and lackluster. “Jane,” she said, “are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

The woman blinked without showing emotion. Miriam got a sense that the pain inside Jane was so deep that she had ceased to feel lest she break down and never be able to recover.

Miriam had been in the village for only a little while. The other woman missionary who had been traded with her was gone, traded yet again to a band of Indians; she wasn’t even sure they were Sioux. Miriam had stayed, because Dancing Water had wanted a slave and taken a liking to her.

“I’m all right.”

The simple answer was the most Miriam had heard Jane say. She smiled in an offer of friendship. “Do they get like this often?” she asked, as if they were discussing the weather rather than the behavior of a bunch of men.

Dancing Water had left the teepee, leaving her alone with Jane. Miriam waited patiently for Jane, hoping to learn about the woman, the village, and how Jane had come to be in such a sorry state.